#it's also pink because I was trying to compensate for all the blue and purple with mitsun masa and houki

[krys-does-art-stuff]

A typical meal time scene in Hideyoshi's house, with Masamune inviting himself over because why not.

Couldn't think of what I wanted with just Masa and Houki for their shared birthday, but through a relatively recent ask I got on main, thought it would be cute with a meal time scene inspired by the ask.

So, Happy Birthday to Masamune and Houki, my beloveds.

Sept 2024

[deceitfuldevil]

Cosmic Glitch

Baron Helmut Zemo X Reader

Summary: You always believed your soulmate was somewhere out there and that one day you'd see color, but the day you met him you refused to accept it. (soulmate AU! where you can't see color until you first look into your soulmates eyes)

Warnings: use of y/n, swearing I think?, poorly written, clearly from my drafts, headcannon turned imagine, fluff <3

Word Count: 2.2K

You had always been close with Sam ever since you served in the Air Force together, you were always up for any mission or task he needed help with.

After everyone was blipped back you had lost your job, so when Sam called you up asking you to tag along on a mission and promised compensation you couldn't turn him down.

You met Sam and Bucky in the garage and when the infamous Helmut Zemo walked in you locked eyes with him, and a fit a color exploded before you.

Zemo had stopped mid sentence

“I really don’t think I’m—“

Your heart sank deep into your chest

“Oh no” you said barely above a whisper.

“I uh, I’m not useful to this operation” he finished, stumbling over his words. Which you'd learn later on was very uncharacteristic of him.

You just stared at him as he nodded at you, a quiet hello.

Your luck was just impeccable wasn’t it? Zemo? Helmet fucking Zemo? It had to be him? The man that tore apart the avengers and bombed the UN for Christ sake! He was a fucking criminal!

The plane ride to Madripoor was above all else, awkward.

You barely spoke, not even making eye contact with anyone unless directly spoken to.

“You alright Y/n?” Sam asked, placing his hand on your shoulder.

You only nodded a small yes, feeling your soulmates prying eyes burning holes into the sight of Sam’s hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n, such a pretty name. I love the way it rolls off the tongue. Y/n.” Zemo said, toying with the sound of your name on his lips. Flustering you, but angering Bucky.

“Cool it Zemo, she’s just a kid.” He warned. Causing Zemo to wave Bucky off with his hand as he took a sip of his warm champagne.

But Bucky was right, you were just a kid. Your soulmate, the Baron for Christ sake, had to be at least 20 some years older than you.

Why did fate set you up with a man that was an adult before you were even born? Didn’t he have a wife before the battle of Sokovia? Maybe this was some kind of cosmic glitch.

I mean, it had to be... right?

Of course you wouldn’t be able to shake the Baron so easily, especially not when you needed a secret cover to pose as in Madripoor

There was only one role for you to play being so new on the “superhero” scene that you were unknown and considering you didn’t look like a single high profile criminal out there.

The Barons fiancé. His schatzi.

Obviously, you couldn’t just show up to a bar in low town in your suit either, so Zemo being ostentatious man that he is came prepared in the worst way possible.

You closed the door to first class and zipped open the black dress bag that Zemo handed you, telling you it would fit well with the part you were due to play.

A very short velvety plum dress sat in front of your color bound eyes. Ridiculously tall heels to match.

It was never something you’d wear out, you’d never have the confidence to wear such a short and expensive dress out to a bar of all places. But the material felt so good and with the new blessing of colored sight almost made you satisfied with outfit presented.

But you walked out fully dressed and maintained your attitude.

“Who am I supposed to be? A high-end hooker?” You quipped, trying to pull the hem of the dress down as far as it would go.

“You, schatzi, will be playing the part of my fiancé.” Zemo said simply. Fixing the cufflink on his left arm.

You stood there awestruck at what he had just said to you. It was hard enough for you to try and ignore that he was your soulmate but now you had to play the part?

“Oh, and you’ll be needing this” he said, digging into his pocket and flicking a ring at you. You caught it, examining it and gasping softly. You had never seen a diamond so big.

You slipped it on your finger, it fit perfectly. Which, made you smile to yourself in a way you knew you shouldn’t have.

He’s a criminal, he’s a psychopath. He’s a criminal, he’s a psychopath. You continually repeated to yourself the whole ride to low town, allowing yourself to think for even a second that just because he was your soulmate meant that he was a good person was not in the books. You simply couldn’t do it.

But as you arrived in the deeper part of Madripoor Zemo informed everyone that they must play their role to a T, because their lives depended on it.

As the car stopped Zemo walked around the side and opened the door for you, grabbing your hand and leading you out. Pressing a gentle kiss to your hand as you stood upright.

You eyes trailed up to his as a blush became evident on your face, when you locked eyes, boom, another shockwave of color screamed into your eyes. You saw the detailing in his fur collar, the bright neon signage all around, the gold detailing in Bucky’s vibraium arm, all of it.

You wanted to see color forever, you hated knowing that if you went without seeing Zemo for too long, the color would fade out.

In ordeal at the bar came and went, the business with Selby is where things got interesting and simultaneously made you nervous.

For some reason it’s almost as if Zemo could sense this because he squeezed your hand tightly and you both sat down on the couch across from Selby.

After everyone else had either been introduced or acknowledged, all that was left was you.

“And who’s this pretty little thing you’ve got yourself here Zemo?” Selby asked, clearing prodding knowing he’d been married before.

“This...” he trailed off, grabbing your left hand to show off the ring “is my beautiful fiancé” he finished

“Oh, got yourself a little trophy wife after the other one kicked the can huh?" She added, staring down the large rock sitting on your finger.

“That’s very sweet of you to think, but this one here is my soulmate. The first woman to ever make me see in color.” Zemo said, his words so sweet honey might as well as been dripping off his tongue. His gaze turned to you, boom, another bright flash of color that made a shiver run down your spine.

“Oh how sweet, but I don’t believe it.” Selby said with a grin, Sam and Bucky tensed up slightly. Siding with Selby because they too didn’t believe Zemo when he referred to you as his soulmate.

“Test me.” You challenged, stupidly if I may add.

“Excuse me?” Selby asked, quirking an eyebrow up at you

“If you don’t believe we’re soulmates, test me. I can name any color you’d like.” You continued, a part of you always looking for a challenge, the other part also wanting to test yourself see if maybe this whole color thing was faulty or one-ended.

“Fine, we’ll start easy. What’s the color of that slutty dress you’ve got on?” She asked, angry that you challenged her

“Easy, the same color as my soulmates turtle neck. A deep purple, plum if you will.” You said carefully caressing the material of Zemo’s shirt

“You could’ve been told that before you arrived, what about my lipstick?” She pressed as she pursed her lips out

“A cheap magenta” you deadpanned, done with her games. She scoffed at you.

“And this couch?” She asked grinning, patting the cushion beside her.

“Trick question. It’s a old a dirty worn out pattern, it has no specific color” you said with a fake smile, Zemo’s hand snaking around your waist as he pulled you a little closer.

The room fell silent just long enough for things to feel awkward before Selby started laughing uncontrollably.

“Well Baron, the universe certainly has picked you a handful! Now what business did you want to do with me again?” And just like that, it was over and you were suddenly running from bounty hunters on the streets.

When Sharon rescued the four of you the ride up to her place in high town was painfully silent. Zemo kept a firm hand on your thigh. Bucky stared off into space ashamed of how easily he fell back into form, and Sam sat on his thoughts wondering if you and Zemo were really soulmates.

No one really spoke to each other, just different conversations with Sharon. After what went down at the Bar and then with Selby... a mood was set, things had changed.

When Zemo stood up and announced he wanted to go join the party and made his way towards the exit you told Bucky you’d keep on eye on him. Sam wanted to protest but at that point you both were already out the door.

You sat from afar watching Zemo on the floor of the club horribly attempting to dance along with the rest of the party-goers. When you laughed a little to yourself he looked up at you, boom, that beautiful shock of color again. It never got old.

But you quickly averted your eyes and disappeared from his gaze as you went to the bar for a drink. When the bartender slid your drink over suddenly Zemo was at your side announcing he’d pay for it.

Zemo started to snake his hand around your waist once more but this time you smacked his hand away

“We’re not playing house anymore, Baron.” You told him, using his formal title.

“But you see what I see, do you not?” He asked, tentatively reaching for your hand.

“See what?” You asked, avoiding his burning gaze. You knew damn well what he was taking about but refused to admit to even yourself. He was a horrible man, a criminal, a rich psychopath! It ached your heart that someone with such a shitty past was who you were meant to be with for the rest of your life.

“The beautiful colors. I see your bright eyes, your sleek hair, those sweet pink lips. Now color is all around me too, I can see the colors of the club. I see the blue radiating off that light, the red in this drink you ordered, the green that lady’s hair! You love opened my eyes, Y/n. With you, I can see.” Zemo pressed on, smiling as he looked in awe at all the colors around him. He placed his hand gently over yours. You flinched but didn’t move away from his touch

“But this has to be wrong. I can’t be the person for you. You had a wife and kids right? Didn’t they bring any color into your life?” You asked, feeling a warm heat rise to your cheeks from the small contact you two were now sharing

“I loved my wife and son sure, but they were always grey to me. Remember that I’m a Baron, when you’re royalty your marriage options aren’t as wide as the universe has set for you.” He pointed out, taking your hand and slowly rubbing your knuckles.

“Still surely this has to be some kind of universal glitch! I mean you’re what? 20 some years older than me? What about all the horrible shit you’ve done? You’re a criminal! I was made to be a hero! We don’t mix, let alone fall in love!” You babbled on

“Listen, y/n. I am not proud of my past, I was a grief stricken man who had just lost his wife and child along with his entire country. I was only doing what I believed to be right at the moment, is that not what you try to do as well?” He asked, trying to find similarities between the two of you. Some common ground.

“Zemo I—“ you started, turning to face him and looking into his hazel brown eyes again and feeling that boom of color that would never get old, but did make you lose your train of thought.

“Zemo I’m scared” you finished off, your planned statement turning into a confession. You didn’t take your eyes off his this time as he stared back down at you. Bring his free hand to your cheek he smiled softly.

“I’m scared too, schatzi. But the feeling you give me makes me feel like everything is going to be alright. Stay with me, ride this out and see where it goes. I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Designer clothes, expensive jewelry, sport cars, you name it and I’ll buy it for you. I’ll fly you any place you’ve ever wanted to go, show you every sight you’ll ever need to see.” He tools breathe, a single tear slipping down his face.

“Please, let’s give this a shot.” He ended. Nine years with losing your wife, child, country, and being imprisoned for a few years really changed a man; and made him that much more desperate for someone like you, his soulmate, to stay.

And stay you did. The first year was rocky wrapping things up with the super soldiers on the loose and clearing Zemo’s name in the eyes of the Power Broker and the UN. Based on his efforts to take down the last of the super soldiers and good words from Sam and Bucky his sentence was reduced to one year under house arrest, which made for a great way to get to know each other better.

The years after that were far beyond smooth sailing, they were dare you even say perfect. You traveled the world with Zemo, lived the most lavish life, saw the most amazing things.

All in color.

[iambilliejeanok]

Omg can I plz plz plzzzz get a Dom!Kisame x Sub!Fem!reader? Where the reader and Kisame are constantly bickering back and forth and don’t like each other but one day an argument they have leads into some rough sex? I hope this makes sense. I really enjoy your writing by the way!!

I like this one. I like it alot. 😏thank you anon💜

Warnings: 18+. Unedited. NSFW. Language, slight overstimulation and violence.

“Not today Kisame! I’ve had enough stinky!”, you yelled, irritated beyond belief at the mere sight of the shark boy, let alone the mean words coming out of his fowl mouth. You huffed, crossing your arms and cocking your hip in a way that Kisame admired. He didn’t like that he thought you were very attractive and sought to squash any and every thought he had about you by being mean. “Get yourself together y/n”, he spoke in a very demeaning way, despite the fact that he was clearly aggravating you with his patronizing taunts. “I thought you could handle a little criticism. You’re weak and you ought to train a little more to at least compensate for your failures y/n”. That was it. He reached the boiling point. Why would he say that considering the fact that you were alone, on a mission to capture the four tails. Unlike like you, everyone else had a partner to help them succeed. The four tails was strong, forcing you to back out of the fight before you’d needlessly hurt yourself. Your taijutsu was neat, but you lacked the physical strength to inflict any serious harm, your strength being the ability to absorb chakra and return it to the user in five fold. Also that you were abnormally intelligent, making you a crucial member of the akatsuki as you played a role in managing the group, sometimes helping pick out the right teams for the right tasks. And your main focus was to collect information about the jinchuriki to share with Pein, who would use that information to select an actual team to hunt down the host. Kisame was happy you failed. There was just something about seeing you so miserable that he couldn’t help but take pleasure in. “Are you gonna let him talk to you like that y/n?”, Hidan deviously questioned, successfully riling you up. You literally pounced on him, not caring that you were in the midst of all the other members, taking him down by complete surprise. You both fell to the ground with a loud thud, Kisame completely taking the hit as you landed on top of him. He was rather stunned that you were able to easily take him down. “Yes y/n, get him!” Hidan cheered, enjoying the view of your ass as you hovered above your new opponent, earning himself a glare from Kakuzu. You certainly weren’t tiny. You were packing in all the right places, standing at 5’8, your curvy body showing in all its glory because your clothes burnt off in certain areas after escaping the four tails brutal lava release, making you look all the more fucking sexy to the swordsman, as well as every other member in the room. But even then, he was way too big and bulky for you to manage bringing him down to the ground in a spilt second all by yourself. You brought your fist up, ready to wipe away that smug look on his face with a nice and hard blow, infuriated at how he calmly waited for you to hit. Your fist connected with his cheek, Kisame quickly flipping you over so he was now on top of you, blood dripping out his nose and falling on your cheek as he easily pinned your wrists on either side of your head, his solid, muscly frame dominantly hovering above you. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”, he growled, angered by how you took him down in front of everyone, but also more than happy to fight you, to see what you’re really capable of. You brought your knee up between his legs, a loud grunt leaving his mouth as you landed a hard blow on his crotch. You used the opportunity to head butt him hard before flipping him over so you were right back on top of him. He was obviously holding back, but today you were in the mood to really fight. “Enough!”. You both snapped your heads in the direction of the familiar voice. Pein looked down at both of you, his purple eyes piercing your own, his expression stoic as always. You quickly got off of Kisame, dusting yourself off as you walked off to your room. He really underestimated you, but next time Pein wasn’t around, you would certainly give him a big taste of the strength he didn’t know you had.

The next morning you felt somewhat better, dragging yourself out of bed to start your day with the rest of the miserable human beings in the hideout. You finished up your breakfast, washing only your dishes, drying them and packing them away, growling at anyone who dared to near you with their dirty dishes. You would die before you washed somebody else’s dishes in this hideout. No one was worthy. Except maybe Itachi. You dried your hands off, walking back to your room to meditate, shower and change before you’d go out and train a little. Not because Kisame said so, you reminded yourself, now debating whether or not you should train, so Kisame wouldn’t think you were training because of his rude remark last night. You walked with your eyes glued to the floor, not watching where you were going as you sped walked the rest of the way in deep thought. You bumped into something hard, the impact throwing you off balance, causing you to stumble backwards and land hard on your bottom. “Ow!” , you whined, looking up to see Kisame. He didn’t have his cloak on, just a skin tight black turtle neck shirt with a pair of black pants. Barefoot. The shirt he wore hugged his muscular chest in such a sinful way. His beefy arms flexing as he gazed at you. This might of been the first time you’d seen him without a cloak. He wasn’t just a big shark. He was a tall, muscular, sexy shark. He reached down to grab your arm, pulling you up a little too fast, causing you to stumble once again, but this time, he held you until you were able to stand on your own. You were pretty much gawking at this point, gulping away your arousal as you immediately looked at the ground, embarrassed that he caught you. “Watch where you’re going little girl”, he said, ignoring how cute you looked still dressed in your pijamas. The pink, spaghetti strap shirt hugging your ample bosom, your nipples confidently introducing themselves through the thin cotton material. The shirt ended just beneath your natural waist, revealing your pierced belly button and a whole lot of smooth skin before your navy blue with white polka dots pants took over, a drawstring keeping them around your hips as they draped all the way down to your ankles, folded twice so you wouldn’t step on them. You both stood in the middle of the long passage, awkward silence surrounding the two of you as you shyly checked each other out. “If you were watching where you were going you wouldn’t of let me walk right into you”, you started, trying to distract yourself from the 6’4 hunk of sexiness standing in front of you. Quickly overcoming your shame you looked up at him, clearing your throat as his eyes were glued to your chest for a good few seconds before he lift them up to look at your face. Unlike you he wasn’t embarrassed at all, his eyes continuing their journey down your body as he nonchalantly replied, “Yeah whatever little girl, I don’t have time for this today”. Your eye twitched. “I’m not a little girl”, you spoke, trying to stay as nonchalant as he was. “Is that so?”, he challenged. “Yes. I’m much more than you could ever handle Kisame. But anyways, I’m not going to to stand here and argue with an angry fish, so bye”, you retorted, starting to walk past him and to your room. His large hand found your neck, causing you to stumble as he dragged you back in front of him, pushing you against the wall all in one swift movement. You gasped out as your back hit the wall, knocking a little air out of your restricted windpipe. Kisame eyes met yours, his teeth showing in his devious smile. He didn’t know whether to laugh at your confidence or respond to your smart remarks. Whatever it was he was feeling made his dick twitch. If only you weren’t so damn cute gasping for air in his hold he would’ve ignored you and continued on about his day. But today he reached his limit. He was going to teach you a very good lesson.

He leaned forward to whisper in your ear, “Much more than I could ever handle?”, he questioned. “Are you sure about that little girl?”. At that he let go of you, watching you greedily suck in air before easily picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. You blushed at how strong he was. “I’m guessing you don’t know how to be gentle”, you remarked, only further triggering his irritation. “For once you’re actually right about me. I do not know how to be gentle and I hope you learn from this”, he responded. You could hear the seriousness in his tone, hoping he meant to do what you thought he was going to do and not actually kill you this morning. Uncertainty travelled through your veins, making you nervous as you tightened your grip on his shirt, trying to keep your balance. His arm sat between your thighs, the grip on your upper thigh just below your ass the only support you had on his shoulder. You were genuinely concerned. Trying to think of a plan to escape or fight back if you needed to. He entered a room, shutting the door behind him. A few steps later he threw you onto his unmade bed. You could smell his musky scent all around you, spiking up your arousal as you sat up on your elbows, looking around you before concluding you were in fact, in his room. You looked up at him, gulping away your nerves as he lifted his shirt over his head. Holy fuck. At this point his sexiness would surely kill you before he got the chance to. You could only watch him in silence, as he crawled onto the bed, slowly making his way to you, like an animal sneaking up on it’s prey, forcing you to lie on your back. He spread your legs open to settle between them. You felt so little beneath him, actually nervous about what was currently taking place. Kisame stopped just above you, sensing your nerves building up. “Where did the cocky girl run off to?”, he chuckled. You felt rather embarrassed that he was right, all your confidence left your body when he threw you onto his bed, suggesting that he was going to fuck you. As aware as you were you couldn’t find any words to retort. A smile appearing on his face, showing his sharp white teeth as he waited for a reaction. “Did you forget how to talk?”, he asked, before planting a small kiss on your soft lips. He pulled away, looking at your face before coming back down to plant another kiss in the crook of your neck. You lifted your chin up to give him more access. His hand rubbed your thigh, slowly coming up to your hips, then your waist, your abdomen and finally your breasts, not ceasing the kisses that slowly turned into sucks and bites, his sharp teeth piercing your skin, making you moan out before his tongue lapped at the blood, soothing the pain he caused you. His big hand squeezed your boob, causing him to groan at the feel of the soft mound. His fingers pinched your nipple hard enough that you squealed. “Answer me y/n”, his tone serious as he continued his attack on your neck. You complied, “Yes I can talk, I’m just a little surprised”. You figured you should be honest about how you felt right now. He ceased his marking, coming up to look at your face. “I hate to admit it but I find myself very attracted to you, annoying as you are. Right now though, I want nothing more than to fuck you, hard and fast”, he confessed, emphasizing his last words with a buck of his hips, grinding into you, smiling at the way you bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan. “I’m sure I can handle you just right”, he continued, deciding to slowly roll his hips into yours, roughly dry humping you. “I’m just not sure if you could keep up”. At that you snapped your eyes open, a small moan escaping your lips as his erection rubbed your lady parts just the right way. “I can keep up Kisame. You’re not all that”, you quickly retorted. Kisame chuckled, watching you slightly squirm beneath him, enjoying the way he rubbed against you.

His lips smashed into yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, making you squeal in delight. His hands immediately worked on undressing you, quickly pulling your shirt over your head and dragging your pants off along with your underwear. In less than a minute you were bare beneath him, your legs spread out as he pressed kisses onto your inner thighs, slowly nearing your wet and aching heat. You brought a finger to your mouth, bracing yourself for what was to come. Kisame looked up at you, waiting for a thumbs up. You looked back into his eyes, whining as you bucked your hips up. Without further ado he drove right in, greedily lapping up your juices, spreading your lips apart before sucking on your throbbing nub, forcing you into a fit of long, breathy moans. You buried your hand into his hair, the other tugging on one of your nipples as you neared an intense orgasm. His large hands kept your thighs spread apart for him, purple nails digging into them as he ferociously ate you out. His mouth found your clit once again, sucking hard on it, the pleasure almost painful as you screamed out in ecstasy. You legs shook in his hold, juices spilling everywhere as he kept at it, making sure you let it all out before he pulled away from you. He got off of the bed, watching you squirm around in pleasure as he pulled his pants off, his boxers following, revealing his thick, long, glorious member. He crawled right back on the bed, flipping you over so you were on your tummy. “I’m sure you feel just as good as you taste sweet girl”, he teased, watching your fat ass jiggle as he slapped it, hard enough to pull out rough moans from you. He snaked his arm under your chest, wrapping his hand around your neck, your breasts snuggling his forearm. “Kisame!”, you moaned out, desperate to feel him inside of you. “What is it?”, he asked, biting his lip as he rubbed his dick along your slick folds, lubricating it and stimulating you at the same time. “Oooh please!”, you moaned, pushing your ass back against him. “You’re going to be begging me to stop soon little girl. Be patient”, he reprimanded, focusing on lubricating his dick in your juices, making you whine out in sweet frustration. Your legs were tucked underneath his own, your thighs pressed together, waiting for him to fuck you.

After what felt like forever he finally pushed the tip into you, slowly stretching you out. He watched you barely manage to take him, squirming beneath him as he sunk into your tight cunt. He couldn’t hold back a moan of his own, sinking his sharp teeth into the back of your neck as he pushed himself all the way into you, your tight pussy snugly swallowing him in. “Kisame! Fuck!”, you moaned out in pain and pleasure as he lapped up the blood dripping from your new wound. He didn’t give you anytime to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. “Mmm fuck! Here we go baby”. He immediately set to a fast and hard pace, his strong hips pushing you up the bed with every thrust, his hand on your neck keeping you in place as he pounded you into the sheets. You couldn’t speak, struggling to catch your breath as your screams took over. His dick was so big, hitting a spot inside of you that made you wonder if he was actually trying to kill you with pleasure. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, drool falling down your chin as he roughly fucked you. Your whole body was now violently convulsing beneath him and you hadn’t even reached your climax yet. Heavy pants fell from Kisame’s mouth as he brutally fucked you, enjoying the way your tight pussy threatened to milk him dry. “You feel way too fucking good baby. Come now”, he spoke through gritted teeth, the demand in your ear sending you over the edge as you came hard. All you could do was scream as the pleasure brutally consumed you, leaving you a complete mess as your grip on the sheets failed to anchor you through this one. Your walls clenched hard around him and he couldn’t hold back, grunting your name out in your ear as he came after you. It took everything in him to not bite you again as his orgasm ripped right through him. Sparing your skin from any more nasty marks.

His weight on top of you crushed you but also anchored you as you both rode your orgasms out. He calming himself before did, pulling you into him as he rolled onto his back. “That was quite intense. Are you okay?”, he asked, holding you tight against him as he kissed your face. His hands ran along your back, to help sooth you down, your whimpers muffled into his chest as you gradually caught your breath. “Y/n, are you okay? Answer me”, he asked again, slightly worried that he might of been a little too rough. He was sure it wasn’t your first time, considering how well you took him when he sunk into you. Maybe he was way too rough. He panicked, slightly tugging your head back to see your face. “Y/n. Answer me”. “K-Kisame. I’m f-fine”, you tiredly whimpered, snuggling into him to find sleep. He finally breathed out, kissing your forehead in relief. So this was all it took to get you to behave? He was hoping you’d be open to doing this again sometime soon, letting sleep take over as he relaxed onto the bed, feeling very satisfied with how things turned out.

[soulmate-game]

Upon further consideration. Even though it is entirely the wrong ecosystem and I know I already said that Merman!Adrien was born in the coral reefs. But. He totally looks like a betta fish. This guy is colorful and has long, beautiful fins and he totally has little neck fins that pop out when he’s angry (but just make him look even more adorable to everyone else). Like, if the mer-community cared at all about photography, he would still be an underwater model. Does everyone forget the fact that he’s one of the fastest swimmers in the School and definitely a vicious fighter when he needs to be? Yes. Yes they do.

Meanwhile, I don’t know you guys caught my little Easter egg before. But I totally want to make the Gotham Sirens all actual sirens in this AU. Because it works, and it’s funny. So here’s the rundown;

Selina Kyle: I want her based on an iridescent shark— which isn’t a shark, it’s a species of catfish. Which is... maybe partly why I chose it. Because of this, her tail is all her black, but in the right light some of her body is iridescent and shines with soft blues and purples. This isn’t bioluminescence like with a deep sea mermaid, it’s just the color of her skin shifting in the right light like glitter. I say skin, because she doesn’t have scales (iridescent sharks have no scales). So her tail is smooth and slippery. Great for escapes. Being a siren, some of her features are exaggerated even on her fish half. So, her tail fin is more flowy and feathery, almost like a beta fish’s but not nearly as long, and the edges of the tail fin are extra thin, so that they shine and are extra iridescent even in dim lighting. She doesn’t have whiskers, but she does have minor control over her hair. She can control how it floats or falls in order to evoke a certain aesthetic, and the tips of her hair do act as weak sensors. She can’t grab anything with it though, it’s kind of like if you can wiggle your ears. You can move it, but you can’t really... do much with that.

Harley Quinn: totally based off a Mandarinfish/ mandarin dragonet. She has a shorter tail than most mermaids, but it’s much wider and rounder. She has a long torso though, with a decently large, rounded dorsal fin on the middle of her spine. She is very, very colorful. You can tell she is meant to be a siren that captivates immediately, whereas Selina is more of a siren that was meant to allure with mystery. Harley is all bright blues and reds and the occasional dash of pink, supplemented by a few black spots and outlines to bring the other colors into sharper focus. She isn’t fast like Selina, but she is small and agile and very hard to grab ahold of. Her fins are very thin and delicate, but soft and incredibly flexible so they are almost impossible to grab and keep hold of. She is also scaleless like Selina, and her tail naturally produces a mucus that is enhanced by her Siren genes. Instead of being a smelly deterrent, Harley’s natural mucus is actually a quick-acting toxin that can be absorbed by the skin and induces hallucinations. She can control when she does or doesn’t produce it. She still keeps her hair up in pigtails (her hair is mostly blonde, but her fish half does color the tips of each side of her hair so she still has the split blue-and-pink look. Only natural this time). Don’t underestimate her just because she is much more compact in size than a normal siren/mer-person. She has a surprising amount of strength in her upper body to compensate for her lack of easily maneuverable tail.

Poison Ivy: I couldn’t quite decide which species I wanted most, but I knew immediately she had to be an eel mermaid. She’s still very environmentalist and all about protecting the oceans, she will straight up terrify to death anyone she catches dumping in the ocean. Litterbugs, beware. But we’re gonna go with a mix of a dragon moray eel and a snowflake moray. Her main body is dark green, but she has black-and-orange spots down her body and tail. Some look like leaves, others look like skulls. Really, it’s like an ink blot test so it mostly depends on whether or not she’s trying to intimidate the people who see her. Scared people will see skulls, people who are on her good side will usually fondly pick out leaf-patterns (Harley). And she still lives up to the nickname Poison Ivy (humans have this name to her, and she liked it) because she entire body is riddled with different toxins. Like Harley, her body can produce a toxic mucus— but Ivy’s mucus-toxin just makes the victim very drowsy and uncoordinated. Her kiss is also toxic, and is boosted by her Siren powers. Anyone she kisses, as long as she wills it, is temporarily mindlessly in love with her and will work to please her even without her having to say anything. This can be as simple as saving her from a tough situation to... more. Ivy is also the largest of the three infamous Sirens, clocking in at right about ten feet long from head to the tip of her tail, and she is the most physically strong. She suffers a bit in the mobility department purely because of how big her body is, but she is still extremely agile and quick-striking. She often hides amongst kept forests and dense seaweed because she likes plants more than people, but also because her body easily camouflages amongst the similar shapes and colors. Both a captivator and a mysterious beauty in her own right, she has skills that match both Selina and Harley in the Siren department, but it’s tempered by the fact that Ivy is the most quick to attack. Harley enjoys playing with her prey much more, Ivy just does what she needs to be able to get to the violent part. She is picky in her prey, however, in that she really prefers only preying on those who harm the ocean.

General siren information for this AU (or my take on it, anyway). Sirens do have a few common traits that solidify them as one distinct race of Mer-people even with each one usually taking on very different fish-traits. The most well known is a siren’s Charm ability, in which they can use their voice to captivate an audience and perform minor hypnosis. This can be done through both singing and regular speech, as long as their voice is in use and they are putting care into the types of tones they are using. The Charm ability becomes entirely ineffective on other mer-people once they realize that a Siren is not a normal mer-person and even if they don’t know, other mer-people are resistant to the Charm effect. It can only be as potent as social manipulation on other sea dwellers, and cannot make a mermaid or merman do something too far out of their normal character. For humans, knowing they are being Charmed allows them to slowly build up a resistance to the charm’s effect. If they build up enough resistance, then they become effectively immune unless caught off guard. A Charmed human will do almost anything the siren demands, as long as it is not drastic enough to shock the human out of the mind control (i.e telling them to kill a loved one or jump to their death knowingly).

Sirens are largely carnivores, where normal mer-people are omnivores. Some sirens (Ivy) do participate in eating humans, but it is known to be fairly unhealthy (like eating junk food) so it is now done mostly in moderation. Sirens have two sets of teeth, but unlike Deep Sea mermaids, neither set is retractable. The set that is visible is human-like, while behind those human teeth hides a set of needle-like teeth that can slightly extend further out of the gums when necessary for hunting but cannot be completely hidden. These teeth are backward’s curving, like giant snake teeth, and it is notoriously difficult to escape a Siren’s bite.

Sirens, unlike other mer-people, actually do have a need for air and cannot breathe under water. They can hold their breath for hours at a time and speak under water, much like dolphins, but they need to break the surface for air at least once or twice a day. This, of course, leads to more contact with humans.

Sirens are the only mer-people who can develop legs. This happens when they let themselves completely dry out, and if they desire to they can morph their tail into two legs. Their legs will never look human however, as their toes will be webbed and everything below their bellybutton will still be the same colors and pattern as when it is a tail, along with any scales or armor plates they might have remaining. A siren can only maintain this shape for a maximum of forty-eight hours before their skin dries out too much and they start to get dehydrated. Immediately upon contact with water over three inches deep, their legs will begin to re-morph into a tail. Splashing the skin with small amounts of water will only delay dehydration for a maximum of an extra twenty-four hours, as the body consumes water faster than it can be replaced by splashing or small amounts of rain.

That’s what I got :) hope you like it!

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Five): Just To Want It All

Notes: As stated in last chapter notes, i have a decent chunk of chapters done so these are coming out pretty rapid fire. Otherwise, I don’t have much to say other than massive thanks to my friend who reads these over for me and has been cool with me dropping 80+ pages of fic on them in a week. because yeah...I finished another chapter of this. 

Word Count:  7885

Chapter Warnings: mentions of alcohol and cursing, if that counts as a warning in cyberpunk 2077.  

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

Lizzie’s Bar stands out brilliantly in the city; out of all the gangs, she thinks she likes The Moxes aesthetic the best. Vivid pink and bright teal. Their colors splashed across the overpass, along with a neon pink skull sign with hair and a bow. At the side of the building is a towering neon skull girl sign, full bodied with an animated kicking leg and axe held above her head, the same hot pink color.

She parks and gets out of her car, doing a quick scan of the area, searching for more Militech drones. None that she sees, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. The credchip burns in her pocket, remembering some of the stuff T-Bug has taught her. How to crack an encrypted shard and see what’s on it, how to transfer its contents. V rifles through her bag, remembering she had a blank credchip somewhere. If Militech did anything dirty, V should be able to transfer the eddies onto a clean chip.

V makes a beeline to the front door, cement blockers and walls covered in graffiti.  More neon signs, the bars name over the door in glowing turquoise letters. Lizzie Jizzie scrawled across an outside wall; two screens on each side of the double stores, all covered in Nicola ads requesting V ‘taste the love’.  Groups of people loiter in the open outside the bar. V’s eyes are drawn to the two bouncers outside the doors.

Two women, one leans against the outside wall as she puff away on a cigarette. Short slicked back hair that starts blue and then fades to green, eyes hidden behind sunglasses and a gold septum piercing in her nose. The other one stands in front of the doors, a yellow spiked bat held over her shoulders. Long hair pulled up into space buns, purple roots and pink ends. Both of her arms are metal; black with pink and teal accents as well as spikes along the forearms.  Both women are skimpily dressed, no shame in that. The one wielding the bat has a white top with cleavage going beyond her breasts,  showing her almost plastic looking skin and the Moxes tattoo across her chest. The other shorter haired bouncer is wearing neon pink pasties beneath a teal bomber jacket.  V’s been here before, has maybe seen them in passing, both really attractive. She’s not sure there’s a Mox member who isn’t.

“Hey there, dollface!~” The bat wielder greets her with a grin, as if she could actually see V’s face.

“Interest you in a preem BD?” The smoker offers.

“What you got?” V asks to be polite, she doesn’t honestly even like brain dances. But the girls are cute, so… no harm in a little small talk.

“What don't we got? Women and men of your dreams, synaptic acting A-listers. No washed-up virtuporn boytoys or blow-up dolls here.”

“Auteur stuff - It'll grip your heart and blow your nerves right outta your body. Pure bit-based ecstasy - that’s why people come here.”

“Sure know how to sell it, don’t you?” V signs, trying not to laugh as the bouncers give her the spiel.

“Not a sales pitch, it's a warning. I'll give you one word - bespoke. Not for everyone's synapses.”

“Think you can handle it?”

“Think I can manage it,” she tells them, knowing damn well she has no intent to get any sort of virtus.

“Mmhm. Couple of things you need to know first,” she affectionately rubs her bat, “Ahem. Severe penalties for any unauthorized recording… “

“No drugs, no groping. Someone catch your eye, you do not grab 'em. You find 'em in the catalog, ask for a BD and get yourself a box.”

“No worries, not even my first time here.”

“Door's open. Have fun, Doll.”

“Welcome to Lizzie’s.”

The double doors open and V walks through a blue beaded curtain. There’s a front room, a stand where a woman with a bright pink mohawk is selling clothes, under another Nicola ad and neon letters saying ‘Fuck To Death’ behind her.

“My what a sweet face you have,” she says, her tone honeyed but its clear she hasn’t looked up from the counter, not even noticing as the masked merc walks past through another beaded curtain and double doors to the main club.

“Here in Night City~”

Music thrums as she steps in; the room is lit with strobing pink and teal lights. Couches with neon glowing lights on the underneath, some people with BD wreaths and others playing on their phones. People dancing  to the club music and  bar tucked away in the corner.  She doubts the client will be right at the start of opening, so V finds an empty stretch of couch, sitting down on black leather with a pink neon light at her feet.  V slides the Militech cred chip into her mask, it takes a moment, but she manages to crack it and get a look at the inside.

Ten thousand eddies and malware; it was meant to send all of Maelstrom’s data to another server and then fry the systems. Meaning, if V handed it over Maelstrom would get their systems fried, with her and Jackie dealing with the aftermath. V slides the blank cred chip into another slot in her mask’s edge, transfering the clean money over to it. Fucking around with tech and daemons isn’t her strong suit, but if she recalls Bug telling her that fairly simple malware like this could be reworked pretty easily. She works through the coding with her thoughts, the data and interface all on her mask. If she can get the coding right, she might be able to have it send something other than data back to the Militech servers…  Shifting and twisting what she thinks will work… if she’s done it right, instead of sending data back to Militech’s server, it should inject the same malware back into their system. If used, it would spike both Maelstrom and Militech.

She’ll call up T-Bug before they hit Maelstrom, double check she did the steps right. If Maelstrom play nice, they can pay and be done, if not...she can fuck over the gangoons, Militech, and walk away with an extra ten thousand in her pocket.  She puts the credchips in her pockets, spiked one in her left and clean one in the right.

Time to have a look around for the client. V making a beeline for the bar, bartenders always have all the info. Lizzie’s Bar in neon over the drink station, a brightly blue lit corner where a man works at making drinks, shelves of booze behind him.  She climbs onto a blue vinyl bar stool, feet no longer on the ground and unable to resist swinging them a bit. The bartender comes to her; a man with slicked back dark hair,  glowing white cybernetic eyes, and silver embellishments run across his cheeks and jaw. His shirt bright blue with a tropical design and if not for a single button above his pants, it’d be completely open. Beaded necklaces bringing even more attention to his exposed chest and stomach.

“Get you something?”

“Looking for Evelyn Parker,” she speaks the woman’s name, not wanting to waste time fingerspelling it even if the sound feels tight in her throat.

“And you are?”

“V, me and her were supposed to meet here.”

“Well, V,  it’s a pleasure. I’m Mateo.”

“Nice to meet you… any idea where she’s hanging around?”

“Club's big. Gonna have to look around. Can't do it for you-”

“It's all right, Mateo,” a feminine voice calls out and V’s eyes are drawn to a woman at the bar, “I was waiting for this one.”

There’s something about her, distinctly Mox and also not. Her hair is a short vivid blue bob with bangs cut straight across her forehead. Heavy makeup, a tight silver sequin dress with a dipping neckline, red thigh high vinyl boots, a black trench coat that pools around her knees with a pink and white feathered collar.  She holds two fingers up to the bartender and moves to the bar stool closer. There’s a clang and tink of glass; Mateo getting out a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.  

“That won’t be necessary,” V signs before he can fill the second glass, “I don’t drink on the job.”

“Aww, what a good girl,” Evelyn coos, a smile pulling at her painted lips, “Evelyn Parker. I knew it was you as soon as you walked in.”

“And you decided to let me wander around instead of introducing yourself?”

“I wanted to get a good look at you first.”

“And?” V watches as Evelyn takes a swig of her tequila.

“Rest assured, if I didn’t like what I see, you’d know,” she takes another drink, “C'mon. Know a place we can talk where ears won't prick up to listen. We'll be in the lounge, Mateo. Anyone asks we're not here.”

Evelyn takes her black clutch purse and leaves the bar, V puts some money down for Mateo; if nothing else to compensate for his time. V hops down from the stool and follows after Evelyn, through a pair of double doors that goes into a hallway tinted red and pink, booth doors lining the way. The blue haired woman opens up a door, standing to the side as V walks in.

The booth is small, circular with a red vinyl couch around it’s curve, a table in the middle projects a hologram of a stripper who twists and dances. V sinks into the cushions, watching Evelyn stride in and light a cigarette as the door closes behind her. Everyone in the city a smoker it seems.  As Evelyn puffs on a cigarette, V is somehow just noticing the gold nail like finger caps she wears.

“Dex had a load to say about you. Called you professional, effective. And trustworthy. I hope he wasn't overselling…“

“You don’t give a shit what he says,” V retorts, not missing the tinge of disdain Evelyn’s voice. V doesn’t need anyone to blow wind up her ass.

“You have trouble accepting compliments?”

“Flattery’s beneath you.”

“Maybe Dex is beneath you,” Evelyn moves around the table, grabbing an ashtray from the table, then sitting down next to V, crossing her legs, “Have you known each other long?”

“First time working with him.”

“Hmmm, I've heard there are two kinds of fixers. Those with stable crews on long contracts and short leashes. Loyalty and predictability they value above all else. Then there's the other kind- Dex's kind.”

“Meaning?”

“Headhunters. They lay their trust elsewhere, not in people but in a thing- their intuition. They bet on potential. And if they lose that bet…It's the last mistake they ever make. I’m hoping Dex’s intuition served him well in this case.”

“Let's get to the point, why am I here, what’s this about?”

“Your target - I trust you know what it is.”

“Arasaka biochip.”

“Mmmhmm, their Relic, secure your soul technology. Arasaka's poured billions into personality transfer technology. But me - I just want the data on this one. The chip is tucked away inside Konpeki Plaza, the hotel. You ever been?”

“Fancy corp hotels? Yeah, no, way out of my price range.”

“The decor's to die for. As you'll see for yourself.’

So, V and Jackie have to bust into some fancy hotel to get the chip people are arguing about on tv. Understood, so far. But, theres a lot of risks involved in a heist of this scale. Its one thing to rip off a dropped piece of cargo or a convoy from a corp; but this kind of top notch tech?

“You know where the chip is, exactly?”

“In a suite on the top floor. The room's occupied by Yorinobu Arasaka.”

V swallows the lump in her throat, the son of Saburo Arasaka, heir to the entire fucking corp. She’s once again finding herself wondering why Dex thinks her and Jackie can handle a job of this caliber, the Arasaka’s seem downright un-fucking-touchable to a merc like her.

“He’s in NC?”

“Don't you read the screamsheets?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Well, the media couldn't get enough of Yori coming to Night City, it was all over the headlines. He's heir apparent to the Arasaka empire - Saburo Arasaka's only surviving son.”

“So, he trying to take over while he’s in town?” V asks, trying to understand what exactly is going on.

“Only a handful of people in Night City know what the Arasakas' real plans are.”

“And you included in that?”

A smirk stretches across her face, green eyes devious; “Yorinobu is a puppet. He lost all his cards years ago when he failed to do daddy's bidding. Saburo's had Yori's balls in a vise for years. He might just turn the screw and crush them outright if he learns his son's up to no good again.”

“Someone like him is bound to have an army surrounding him, that hotel is probably a fortress by now.”

“Yorinobu keeps exactly no muscle around. Not one guard. Got rid of them a long time ago.”

“Why?”

“Surely you know what they say about Arasaka intel? Sneeze in Night City and a blossom drops from a cherry tree in Tokyo. Yorinobu was convinced his Arasaka security detail reported directly to his father.”

“If you got a spare ache up your sleeve, I’d love to see it.”

“ Now, this should make your tits perk up,” she says, putting the ashtray aside and leans forward.

“My tits are quite comfortable where they are, I assure you.”

“Cute, but more importantly, Yorinobu recently swiped the chip from an Arasaka laboratory. He's made a deal with NetWatch, aims to sell it to them. Have you spotted my ace yet or do I need to spell things out?”

“Okay, no muscle because he has daddy issues and no security on the device because he stole it from said daddy. Any idea where he’s hiding the thing?”

“Likely in a specialized container, one that mimics an organic neural environment. On the outside, it looks like an ordinary briefcase.”

“Which would be where?”

“You'll see for yourself soon enough,” she stamps out her cigarette and stands up, walking to the door, “Provided we're done gossiping about the Arasakas.”

“You know anything else about him?” V asks, wanting to see if she can mine any more useful information about the heir that could help.

“Quite a bit, actually. He studied finance and biotech in Tokyo. Hm, probably didn't have a choice in the matter, come to think of it. Saburo was grooming him to be his successor. But then Yorinobu vanished to chase his own dreams, cut himself off from the corp for years. Long story short, though the black sheep returned, the bitter taste remained. But that's only one side of him. There's another - an intelligent man who has always walked his own path and so has his own designs on the corp.”

There’s no doubt in V’s mind now that Evelyn knows Yorinobu personally, the way she talks and speaks is clearly colored by experience. Some prodigal son who ran away from his father and then came back with his tail between his legs when he couldn’t cut it alone. An odd lump in V’s throat at the thought; running away from shitty dads, being a black sheep…

“Sounds like any other corpo dick to me,” V signs, not liking the parallels her brain is starting to draw.

“Hm. Ever tried to imagine what life might be like for an emperor's son? You have everything, yet you are no one, nothing. At least as long as you remain in Saburo Arasaka's shadow. I…” she scratches almost sheepishly at her neck, her wannabe femme fatale attitude slipping for just a moment, “...sympathize. It's a vulnerability I understand well.”

V is still finding herself finding uncomfortable similarities between herself and fucking Yorinobu Arasaka. Its stupid, she doesn’t know the man and he has the wealth to destroy her for pretending she does. But, a power hungry leader for a father, leaving home, terrified of being under his thumb. Only difference, well many, but most pressing is she’s managed to make it on her own...so far… at least. Not that she hasn’t had her doubts or worries.

“So, what’s next?” V asks, practically shaking her head to dispel the weirdness swimming in her brain. Black sheep or not; Yorinobu Arasaka has a silver spoon in his mouth. She’s a nomad turned Night City edgerunner; their lives couldn’t be more far removed.

“Now comes the best part,” Evelyn opens the door and turns to leave, “Follow me. Got somethin' for you. Should help you plan. Braindance from Konpeki Plaza.”

V follows Evelyn out into the hallway, “ how’s a braindance going to help?”

“Think BDs are only good for fondling virtual tits, jackin' off to in those boxes?”

“Thought that was the main selling point, yeah,” V teases back as they turn a corner in the hallway, headed towards a door.

“No. They can be a very useful tool. Good for analyzing details human perception, even boosted, doesn't grasp. Exactly what you need,” Evelyn teases as they enters a dressing room, a few Mox at the tables painting their faces with makeup and styling their hair.

“What's on the tape?” Through another door and neon lights fade to harsher, darker lighting.

“Yorinobu's suite. The glorious interior,” the walk down a short metal flight of stairs, “You'll need to locate the Relic yourself. Hope I grabbed enough detail to make that possible.”

The stop at the end of the steps, Evelyn turning to look at V with a hand on her hips. Not that V really had any more doubt about it, but she’s been given more evidence that Evelyn and Yorinobu know each other.

“You recorded it?”

“Mhm. BD rec implant. Why, you object?”

“Not particularly, who you know and what you do with them is none of my business, lets see the braindance.”

“Judy'll help. She's a Mox, too,” down another short flight of stairs, deeper into the basement, “Besides, we go back… years.”

Evelyn stops them again outside a pair of double doors, Lizzie’s is starting to feel like a little maze at this point. But more importantly, Evelyn’s paused again, stumbled over her words and showed something under her facade. V felt something was off, a Mox but somehow not, and she’s starting to think Evelyn is purposely trying to put up a front. That she’s trying, a little too hard, to come across like femme fatale or corpo. Evelyn clears her throat.

“V, this is important. Judy's always been there for me. Always helped out. I trust her. But she's a Mox, not the latest member of your crew. Try not to forget. So you'll be a good girl, tread lightly and keep that tongue on a leash.

“Oh, but it's not my tongue you need to worry about.”

“Hmm, can feel you smirking under that mask, keep it up and I’ll tie those hands down, too,” Evelyn says with a wink as they pass through the double doors into another hallway, then through one more door.

Evelyn leads her through the basement doors, a dark little room with servers, netrunning chairs and screens. In an office chair slouching with one leg on a desk is a woman; late twenties or so with olive skin. One side of her hair is shaved, the other shaggy and down to nearly her shoulder, a deep green color with bright pink ends. The woman is heavily tattooed, bright red roses nestled above her collar bones, a spider web on her right shoulder, a cartoon ghost sitting in a shell, and a large number 13 on her bicep are among the standouts. But V could spend hours describing each artwork.

“Ahem.”

“Hey, there you are…” Judy greets Evelyn, a playful almost flirty tone to her voice.

“This is V. She's here for that BD roll. And V, this is Judy - best braindance editor I know.”

“Enough already, gonna make me barf.” There’s a slight accent to Judy’s voice, not unlike Jackie’s.

“Impressive set up,” V signs, at least, she assumes it’s impressive. Tech is already a bit of a blind spot for her, especially when it comes to brain dances.

“Mhm, Analyzers, sensory sig amps, acoustic and emotive wave monitors, facial expression translators.”

“Ahem, Judy,” Evelyn stops the inked editor before she can tell V more.

“All right, all right… Compiled your BD, Ev.”

“What do you think? Will it do?”

“Still pretty raw… but yeah, oughta do.”

“Mhm. V needs to get deep inside, that's most important.”

“So, let's calibrate, tune it to her,” Judy stands up from the table and moves to the desk closer to the door, sitting down below a neon pink light, “Believe me, I've dealt with worse. Should see the dig-Jig Street porn we gotta contend with sometimes.”

Evelyn has followed behind Judy, standing behind the editor’s chair, “So we drop V inside? Let her look, let her rummage around, right?”

“How 'bout it, V? Raw braindance - ever taken a dip before?” Judy leans forward on the desk, looking at V.

“No, not at all, but I’m a quick learner,” that feels like a lie as soon as she says it, “ and need to know what I’m dealing with. So.”

“Siddown, settle in, and we'll get you goin'.”

V turns around to the chairs, either netrunning or ripperdoc chairs, she’s not sure. But, she climbs into one, settling down into it as Judy comes back out around the desk. Judy is nearby, fiddling with a brain dance wreath.

“Be easier to fit without the mask.”

“Mask has optic tech, linked to my neuroport and biomon, should work just like it does with any set of cybereyes.”

“‘Fraid of ruining the mystery?” Evelyn asks, teasing again.

“Mask is for business, lot harder to track a merc if you got no clue what they look like. You that curious, feel free to try and track me down during my off time.”

“Fine, fine,”  Judy affixes the BD wreath around V’s head, lining it up properly on the merc before walking back to the desk,  “Gotta create your sensory profile first.”

“Go for it.”

“Now, sit still, look at me. Gonna run the analysis soft should feel a slight tingling…”

V’s breath catches as it prickles across her skin, a crackling and warm sensation crawling across every nerve. From the base of her skull, down her spine, across her arms to her fingers, running down her legs to her toes. A vague pulse, a current of something.

“OK now let's set the optics and other sensory sigs. Look smack into these two screens, pretend it's an eye exam.”

The two wreath panels flash and strobe white light, building in urgency and frequency.

“Gimme two more minutes. One more sec, need to get the pain receptor limiters in… OK. All set. Need to test your profile first. Tossing in a sam-”

“We can just use my recording, there’s no point in wasting time,” Evelyn interrupts Judy.

“It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“I’m fine with just jumping to her BD,” V interjects her opinion, “better to get right to it.”

Judy sighs and rolls her eyes; “Fine, fine, what do I know.”

“Great, I’ll just need to patch Bug in.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Who?” Judy jumps up from her desk, crossing her arms and looks at V like she just asked to summon Satan.

“Runner from my crew, security specialist. She'll tell me what to look for while we analyze. No problem, I assume?”

“Actually, it is a problem! You’re already asking me to cut fucking corners and now you want to bring someone else in?! Not what we agreed, Ev!”

“It’s not a big deal,” V signs, not sure what Judy’s sudden problem is.

“No big deal! You don't quite grasp the risks I took by lettin' you in here! What I'm risking pokin' around with this stuff!”

Judy continues to yell and V rolls her eyes, she’s a BD editor, not part of the actual crew, the client, or the fixer. If Arasaka goes after anyone it sure as shit won’t be Judy, so why is she throwing a fit.

“And you don’t seem to grasp the risk I’d be taking if me and my partner went stumbling into that hotel with no fucking clue as to what we or our runner are up against. I miss one hidden turret and I get pumped full of lead, either my runner links in or I’m gone.”

V makes a point to twist her head and look at Evelyn at the last part; Bug is the most highly trained member of their crew and Dex’s go to runner. Without her involvement and eyes on it, the job won’t be going anywhere.

“Bye then!” Judy yells out, “good riddance and don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”

“Judy, please…”

“Ev, she wants to bring a 'runner in. What part of that don't you understand?! How do I know she'll only perch in this footage, observe, not fuck with anything?!”

“Because Bug is literally involved with the heist, has a dog in this fight, and wants it to go well too,” V signs, hoping the AI voice is getting her annoyance across, Judy does level a glare at her over Evelyn’s shoulder.

“Me,” Evelyn steals Judy’s attention, “I'm your guarantee.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Help me, this one last time. I promise everything'll work out,  just like we planned.”

And it hits V, between the flirting and the soft drop in Evelyn’s voice here. The reason Judy is so worked up about this; her and Evelyn have something. Friends teetering the line into something else, girlfriends already, or maybe even more than that. V’s not sure. But there’s something distinctly not platonic to the way they interact. Maybe that’s the play on Evelyn’s. Scam Yorinobu Arasaka then run away with her porn editor girlfriend.

“Fine,” Judy shakes her head and sits back down, the anger gone, “call Bug and we’ll dive in.”

That issue taken care of V rings up T-Bug, the netrunner answering after a ring or two.

“What’s up, V?”

“Bug, listen. I got some useful footage from Konpeki Plaza. It's a braindance.”

“Konpeki? Ohhh, thought as much…” Judy looks up at Evelyn.

“Someone there with you?”

“Client and her...friend...is what I’ll settle on; that’s not what matters right now, its going to give us a layout of the room, a chance to find where the chip is, and some idea of security.”

“All right, see if I can walk you through it. Jackin’ into your tech now,” notifications alert across her mask’s interface, “Mh, you've gotta give me access. Opening port 1779… Secure protocol? Good, I'm goin' in. Should be getting my request… …now.”

“Got it. You ready?”

“Millisec. OK, connection confirmed, now some quick temp ICE and… we're clear. Ready to dance.”

“Let’s do this.”

And with that the wreath panels begin to flash and strobe in front of V’s eyes, quicker and quicker until the world goes out in white. And in the next snap of a moment, one reality becomes another. Her body is no longer her own, she’s placed in Evelyn’s mind standing outside an elevator. What feels like her body, moves to adjust a purse strap, gold capped nails.

“All right, V - eyes open. Gotta find out where Yorinobu is keepin’ the Relic. Everything is controlled by thought and intention; you can step into editor mode, access everything her cyberware picked up a signal of, can scan, rewind, fast forward. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

The doors open, exposing the hotel room, and a horror show of a man walking towards her. V can feel the spike in fear, whether from Evelyn in the moment or V’s own instinctual reaction; she isn’t sure. He’s around eight feet tall, complete metal and cyberware from his feet to his upper lip; more machine than human. Wire, hydraulics, steel; all branded with Arasaka. The flesh section of his head is sickly ashen protrusive veins, glowing red where eyes should be. As he draws closer there’s a whirr of machinery, hydraulics pistoning to give him movement. How is he alive? How is he functional?

“You look like a cut of fuckable meat. Are you?” He asks as he walks past, voice edged with something inhuman.

Evelyn reigns her fear back in, the past version of her walking deeper into the room, where a dark haired man sits at a table in front of a large screen where another blonde haired man speaks back to him.

“I said no,” the dark haired man speaks out, his voice colored by a Japanese accent and V knows it’s Yorinobu. Evelyn continues to walk closer, her heels clicking against the floor.

“They'll have my head for this…”

“Then you shall perish for a good cause.”

“But I-”

“Make yourself comfortable. I need a minute to finish,” Yorinobu tells Evelyn, sparing just a glance over his shoulder.

“Listen in on that conversation, V! Could be something important.”

She wants to watch through first, do an initial watch to look for things and then go more in depth. Two watches at least should mean she’s covered everything. Yorinobu switches the conversation to his holophone, pacing around the room. Evelyn meanwhile puts her purse down on the chair, then walks behind him, trying to keep him in range

“My father is a tired, visionless old greybeard who thinks nothing will change and he'll live forever in his tiny, frozen bubble! You will listen to this - Saburo is an addled despot utterly removed from reality, stuck in some fossilized vision of a world that no longer exists! Of a world that may never have existed! We have not seen eye to eye for the last twenty years. I am quite sure we won't now.”

Yorinobu continues to talk as Evelyn pours herself a glass full of champagne and takes a drink, the tech allowing V to taste the sweet bubbles as if they were on her own tongue. Glass in hand she takes a slow look around the room and walks back to the center of it, sitting at the table, the plush of the cushion letting her sink into it.

“Noted,” Yorinobu says into the phone as he starts to walk back to Evelyn, there’s something in his eyes, “enough.”

He hands up, putting the phone down on the table. Evelyn looks up at him and V through her eyes gets her first good look at the Arasaka heir. Dark hair with the sides shaved down close to the scalp, glasses perched on his nose. His cyberware is surprisingly minimal for a man of his wealth, two streaks of silver going up his neck to his jawline.

“Sorry, to make you wait,” he touches Evelyn’s shoulder and the woman rises, “business can be stupid.”

They’re close and V can feel his hands on her, Evelyn’s, hips. Evelyn’s hand on his shoulder.

“Mmh, it wasn't long,” Evelyn hums and it feels wholy unnatural to feel like she’s speaking with someone else's voice, “Not even long enough for me to grow bored.”

His hands start to creep and Evelyn goes to pull away, movements playful, when Yorinobu pulls her back in. Then he starts to dip his mouth.

“Fuck no!” V yells out as she pushes the thought to enter editor mode, separating her senses from Evelyn’s before she has to feel Yorinobu’s lips on Evelyn’s neck. She looks down and sees herself, though slightly digital, her bright blue nail polish and not gold jewelry. The scene around her has paused and a digital filter over them.

“Something wrong?” T-Bug asks with a slight laugh.

“Nearly had corpo droolon me,” V signs, happy to find the tech allows her translator to work in editor mode, “was going do a watch through, then a second go in editor mode, figured two look throughs would be best...then”

“Then you nearly had to lock lips with Yorinobu Arasaka.”

“Gag, rewinding back to scan the call fully.” With a thought she watches as Evelyn and Yorinobu move in reverse, getting back to win the heir was starting the call. Once she gets where she needs to be she scans his phone and restarts it from editor mode, thankful for the sensory disconnect. She hears the man on the other end of Yorinobu’s call speak.

“Please speak with your father. He's taken a particular interest in this project, he can certainly explain the risks invol--”

“My father is a tired, visionless old greybeard who thinks nothing will change and he'll live forever in his tiny, frozen bubble!”

“I should not even be listening to such things.”

“You will listen to this - Saburo is an addled despot utterly removed from reality, stuck in some fossilized vision of a world that no longer exists! Of a world that may never have existed! We have not seen eye to eye for the last twenty years. I am quite sure we won't now.”

“Read the documentation carefully. The Relic requires specific storage conditions. You MUST provide them.”

“Noted,” Yorinobu hangs up again and V pauses the BD.

“Heard that? Relic docs gotta be around here somewhere. Look for them,” Bug confirms.

“Once we find where the chip is stored we’ll do a clean sweep of the security, okay Bug.”

“Smart thinking.”

V watches half-heartedly as Yorinobu and Evelyn interact; her range of vision and senses limited to Evelyn. She fast forwards through the two canoodling, only mildly catching Evelyn mentioning something about ‘candy’ though V assumes it’s of the nose variety. Evelyn separates away from Yorinobu for a moment and walks to a control panel, offering to lend music to the scene.

But V’s interest is piqued when she catches Evelyn rifling through Yorinobu’s messages, a few spam and scam emails. Then she pulls up an email from Clouds, a dollhouse in the city. Evelyn deletes it, V rewinds back and pauses. The email thanks Yorinobu for his patronage; hmm, heir has a taste for doll prostitutes. Something, Evelyn doesn’t want that email to be there… Its all beginning to make more sense and V’s not sure she likes it.

The merc fast forwards further through the BD, moving through to Evelyn playing awful music and going to meet Yorinobu in his bed. Where he sits with a tablet, the second the screen is clear. She pauses and scans it, bingo.

“Manual details a special temp controlled container. Relic needs to be kept real cool,” T-Bug explains through the technobabble.

“Chip’s got to be in a freezer.”

“Yep. Could damage it otherwise. OK, switch on thermal layer detection in the editor. Should be easier to spot where Yorinobu's keeping the chip.”

V switches with a thought, the world turning into temperature signatures as she searches for unnatural cold places and spots. An air conditioner pumps out cold air, but that would be a stupid place to put billion dollar tech. One malfunction and you lost it all.  She rewinds back to get more of a view, a ice bucket for champagne, a fridge?

“That’s just a regular fancy fridge, not cold enough,” Bug tells her when she spends t0o long contemplating it.

V rewinds further and an amass of blue ice cold air from behind a pillar catches her eye, It seems to come up through the floor, unlike the AC, ice bucket, or fridge she has no clear idea where this one is coming from. A secret container in the floor? Seems like a much craftier place to hide expensive stolen tech, V scans it.

“Right, grabbed the heat sig. Matches the spec in the docs,” T-Bug tells her.

“Chip has to be here, we got it.”

“Mmhmm, time to scan security.”

V switches back to the regular mode, looking for what she needs to scan. The camera system first.

“Shit, cameras packed with newtech motion sensors, heat sig activators. IFF.”

“Can you kill it?”

“With access to their subnet, but we need the Flathead bot for that.”

They continue on, with Bug commenting on each security measure they scan. Alarm with fresh firmware, Automated turrets connected to the hotels server. Yorinobu’s pistol, loaded with the safety on. V rewinds and fast forward, searching anything else that might be an issue but comes up empty handed.

“Seems like we got everything. Looks like all their security systems are linked to the hotel subnet. We need the Flathead. No other way to shut down these systems,” T-Bug sumises.

“No way around it ourselves?”

“Nope. Least I'm fresh out of ideas. Think we got everything we need.”

“Okay, but hang on the line with me after we get out of the BD, need you to look over something for me, if you don’t mind.”

“No problem.”

V exists out of the brain dance, a flash of white and the world returns. Judy and Evelyn looking at her from across a desk, T-Bug still in the call panel of her mask. Her eyes hurt, her throat feels dry, and she can feel a migraine pushing at her temples. She fucking hates brain dances.

“Get everything you need?” Judy asks, a dark raised eyebrow.

“From the BD, yeah, got to clear something with Bug while I got her on the horn,” V gets the chip she fucked with out of her pocket and slides it into the proxy reader of her mask, “got a chip I fucked around with; decrypted and tried to rewrite the virus on it, so it will spike the people who gave it to me. But I want to make sure, I didn’t fuck up.”

“Need me to grade your work, V?”

“Kind of…”

“Oh, shit, V. You fucking over Militech?” T-Bug exclaims, a little pride in her voice as she reads over the code, thankfully her voice is only audible to V through her hearing aids.

“Mmhmm.”

“And you don’t want to sign and have your translator read it, because you don’t want to risk the client knowing you’re fucking over Militech while prepping to fuck over Arasaka.”

“Mmhmm, will it work?”

“It will fry the servers of any tech it’s plugged in proper and fry the servers it’s linked to, a Militech van from the looks of it. Won’t be a dent in their bottom line, but will surely piss off some reps. That what you meant for it to do?”

“That was the plan.”

“Preem work then, but I do want to make some...edits,” T-Bug edits the chips code in front of V’s eyes, “there we go.”

“Something wrong with it?” Nerves creep up V’s throat, if she fucked up, she’d rather learn her lesson now.

“Nah, I added a bit of a personal touch for you, nothing wrong with a little style added to your hacking.”

“Appreciate the help.”

“You know I won’t always be here to check your work.”

“I know, I know, but it doesn't mean I won’t take advantage while I can. Thanks again, talk soon.”

“Later, V.” With that V hangs up the call and slots the spiked credchip back into its respective pocket. Judgement, suspicion, and resentment are radiating off of Judy.

“I'll wipe the cache and your data. You were never here.”

Judy stands up from the desk and V tries to decipher a few of the tattoos she sees, noticing more sea themed ones, like a dolphin and sharks. V flinches behind her mask as Judy removes the BD wreath, glad to be free of the contraption, but she could have taken it off herself.

“Thanks…” V signs, despite this, just trying to be polite despite their spat.

“Keep it,” Judy hands her the wreath, V getting a good look at the octopus tattooed on the woman’s hand,  “I'll put it on Ev's tab. Portable device for handling BDs. I already uploaded your calibration settings. Not as sophisticated as what we got here, but should do the trick.”

“And it keeps you outta harm's way. Clever.”

“Speaking of harms way, know what I see looking at you,” Judy pins her hands to her hips and gives V that look again, “walking, talking corpses.”

“We needed this recording, just… relax, will you?”

“Relax! If Arasaka finds out you have it, you're dead. I'm dead! If you fuck this up and Arasaka comes knocking on my door!”

“Judy, relax, that’s… not gonna happen,” Evelyn is the one trying to soothe the editors temper again.

“Evelyn, please… no shortcuts. You go that route, city'll always win. So be careful.”

“'Course I will be. Besides, we'll talk in a bit,” Evelyn looks to V,  “lets walk.”

V stashes the new BD wreath into her bag and climbs from the chair, following Evelyn out of Judy’s basement space. It’s not like V is heartless or doesn’t know anxiety; but of everyone involved, Judy has the least skin in the game. V can’t spend her time coddling someone who doesn’t have a whole hell of a lot to worry about compared to her, Jackie, or Bug.

“Well? What do you think?” Evelyn asks and V can see that hint of nerves coming back.

“You’re not worried about this coming back on you, if they start looking through everyone he’s been dealing with?”

“They'll have a long list, then. Packed full of big names. Much bigger than mine. You tell me who they check first. Corpo hotshots and cutthroats? Or a little bedroom plaything like me?”

“Well, then... “ V tries to find her words, this all seems, too good, “intel on the heir, on the place, know roughly where the chip is, and how we should get to it… Seems like a perfect plan and job.”

“Mm. Thanks. Now the punch line, please.”

“Seems too good to be true, there’s got to be a catch…”

“Cold feet? Are you looking to get out of it?”

“I want to know you’re in control here; that there’s no secrets, no catches, no surprises that turns this heist from a cakewalk into a bloodbath.”

“V. I have zero reasons to haze you. We’re in this together. Really. Trust me that I got this.”

“Okay, if you say so, what next?”

“V….” there’s nothing good in the way Evelyn pauses, words stuck to her tongue for a moment, “Do this job for me. I mean me alone. No splitting the payout with anyone else. No middlemen. No Dex.”

Of course, of fucking course, there had to be something. Evelyn’s trying to play cutthroat corpo, fucking over a fixer because she has dollar signs in her eyes. But, she’s too damn naïve to the game to know that no merc with the lead in their gun would pull that shit. Greedy mercs who screw over their fixers end up broke on the street at best and swimming  with cement shoes at worst. And a high profile one like Dex has the means to destroy her.

“Fucking knew there was a catch, you want to fuck over our fixer.”

“Dex is a middleman. And a useless one at this point.”

“You don't fuck with fixers. That's the one rule every merc in this city knows - and actually follows!”

“But if we're smart…”

“There is no smart to this, a mistake like that will cost me my reputation and without that, a merc is fucking nothing in this city. Are you serious about this?”

“Better ask yourself that question. Do you want to spend the rest of your days blasting scavs? Or become a legend overnight? Your choice.”

“He would put me in the ground, if I pulled some gonk shit like that.”

“I could give you fifty percent, V, . Eddies enough to do whatever the hell you like, without needing Dex for anything. With cred like that, you wouldn’t want for anything, you could retire.”

“It’s not about the money.”

“I thought you were a merc. I thought it was always about the money.”

“No, its not actually. He trusts me, he’s taking a leap with me. And even if he weren’t, I’m not the only person I got to worry about. Bug vouched for me too and Jackie is my partner. I fuck over my fixer, it hurts them too. I’m not going to send them down the river for a bigger cut of the pie.”

“Fine. I never asked. But V?”

“Yeah.”

“I just hope you're as good as you are naive.”

“Pff, you think I’m the naive one, here. Cute.

“If you need me, call. I'll send you my number. Now go. I need a few words with Judy.”

“Later, then.”

And with that V heads back up the stairs, tension draws tight across her shoulders. This whole damn thing with Evelyn throwing her off. The BD and everything seems clear cut, if they get the Flathead, the job might even be easy. But, wanting to fuck over their fixer. Evelyn is not the corpo or femme fatale or whatever she seems to think she is. A doll, V’s sure of that.  Evelyn must have deleted the email from Clouds because its’s connected to her and the Mox offer protection to sex workers; must be where she and Yorinobu met. Clouds even has connections to Arasaka through the Tyger Claws. And she managed to become a powerful rich man’s plaything, so now she thinks she’s smart enough to fuck over not only him but Dex too.

She’s a messy client with good intel. V doesn’t want Evelyn to get hurt. The older woman is in over her head and doesn’t know how the merc world works. She doesn’t deserve to get hurt for that, the last thing V wants is for Dex to lose his cool and hurt the woman. But, V also owes it to him to let him know Evelyn put that deal on the table. If she doesn’t, what’s to say Evelyn won’t pull this on another fixer? Or Dex gets another job aligned with her and the next merc she offers this to isn’t so loyal? She has to tell him.

V fumbles with her holo as she walks back through the club, doing some quick research on Konpeki Plaza. Finding their policy on guns. Given the stealth nature of this mission, she can assume the only way they’re getting in is to find a way to get in like regular patrons. Which means they’d be scanned for guns as soon as they get through the door. If something goes south, she doesn’t want her and Jackie left unarmed with a hoard of Arasaka soldiers on their ass.

But they can’t confiscate cyberware.

Might be time to cash in her savings for something. Her holo buzzes in her hand as Dex calls; her stomach drops. Unsure for a moment what to say to him, if she should go ahead and tell him what Evelyn tried to pull. Would he lose his temper? Drop the entire damn heist? Would he hurt her for it? It weighs on her shoulders as she pushes through a blue beaded curtain, considering her options with a finger hovering over the phone.

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

mystic meadow and the sweet spot

pairing: harry styles x reader (farmers market au)

warnings: anxiety, awkwardness, shy!baker!harry, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, cockwarming

word count: 6.8k

synopsis: harry hates working the farmers markets, but the girl in the kombucha booth is cute

author’s note: hope you enjoy! xx all the love

masterlist

—

Harry used to hate working the farmer’s markets; there was so many people, so many awkward encounters, and so many stupid questions. The heat of the midsummer didn’t help either. He hated having to set the booth up and take it down, with the help of nothing more than an inadequate coworker, who spends most of his time on his phone or flirting with the other vendors. He hated working the markets, which is why he honestly contemplated quitting when his boss told him that he was scheduled to work the new rounds of the summer circuit, but the pay was double what he was normally making, in addition to mileage compensation.

It’s been a couple weeks since the market season began; every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, he has to set up his booth, put on a fake smile, try to sell as much as he can, and take the booth down, only to start it all again the next day in a different location. It’s exhausting, draining.

Today isn’t as bad as others. Cas, his poor excuse of a coworker, hadn’t even bothered showing up, but other than that, Harry hasn’t had any rude customers, and Andy, the guy who owns the spirits booth, gave him a couple bottles for cheap. By the end of the day, he sold most of the product, with only a few pastries and macarons to save for tomorrow, which will be handed out as samples.

He’s nearly all packed up when a girl meanders over near his booth. A loose yellow tee hangs off her shoulder with pale pink lace peeking out from the top of her chest, and she offers Artemis, the elderly woman who works the soap booth next to him, a soft grin. They make eye contact, and she gives him a warm smile. Thinking she’s a straggler who doesn’t know the market is closed, he offers her a tight smile while not-so-subtly boxing up the remainder of baked goods.

“Hmm, macarons,” the girl mumbles, fingering at the blue and white plaid tablecloth. “Any good?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says softly. He has never been really good when it comes to small talk, which is one reason why he probably isn’t able to have any lasting relationships; he barely had any acquaintances, let alone meaningful friendships. He scratches the back of his head, beneath a wool beanie he apparently had to wear, even though it’s been burning hot all day. Sweat seeps into his hair, threatening to drip down his neck. She nibbles on the inside of her cheek. He slides the tray of eclairs onto the side table, wrapping it with a healthy amount of plastic wrap before placing it in the insulated tote.

“And you’re not just obligated to say that since I’m a potential customer,” she smirks.

“Would never lie to such a pretty girl,” he says, smiling. He honestly can’t believe that those words actually came out of his mouth. A blush makes its way from his neck, to his cheeks, to the tips of his ears, and he prays that she can’t see it. The sun is setting; dull oranges and pinks peek over the tops of trees and wrap around her like wings, bright and comforting. He wipes his forehead, trying to conceal his blush from her. Just by looking at her, he’s sure that she wouldn’t even bat an eye at the rosy flush to his skin, but his stomach still balls up.

“Smooth,” she says. “You come here often?” Regret passes over her features as soon as she asks that, brows furrowing and head shaking. “Sorry, that sounded stupid. I just haven’t seen you. It’s normally Ryan or Cas,” she explains. She starts folding the tablecloth when Harry packs the final trays of pastries away.

“Well, Cas didn’t even show up today.” Harry can’t help the bitterness that seeps into his voice. He doesn’t mean to dump all of his anger on this poor girl, but she’s looking at him with such understanding eyes, it’s hard not to completely break and rant about everything that’s been building up. She hands the cloth to him, which he takes with an appreciative nod. “But, yeah, ‘ve been workin’ this fo’ a couple of weeks,” he says. Feeling like he’s being a little too standoffish, he offers her a smile, nudging the tray that caught her eye toward her. “You like macarons?”

It takes a bit for her to answer, and she bites at her lip, fingers wringing together. The skin of her palms are stained a pinkish-purple.

“Yeah,” she says. “They’re my favorite.”

“Here,” he says, scrambling to get a box. He digs into the tote, easily ripping into the plastic wrap. “Take some. Better you than me. ’Ve had enough sweets to last me the rest of my life.”

“Thanks.” She takes the box of pistachio-honey, raspberry-basil, and orange cream. “Pretty,” she says, fiddling with the gold ribbon he tied around it and already picking at the label. She lingers for a little bit, like she’s waiting to find something else to talk about, fingers tapping nervously on the table top. “I, uh,” she stutters, gesturing toward the booth across the way from his and a little to the right, “work the kombucha stand over there.”

It’s a large booth with large, draping black curtains shifting. If the wind catches it just right, he can see streams of warm colors painted on them, layered and bold. Two men are taking down a large banner that says ‘Mystic Meadow Kombucha’ with the outline of a bull’s skull beneath it, wildflowers winding around it. It seems to be more extravagant than Harry’s setup, with 3 large kegs in the front, decorated with fake vines and flowers.

“D’ya paint?” He asks suddenly, gesturing toward her hands.

“I do, but these are from some beets. We were testing new flavors, and I, well—” She bares her hands, laughing lighty, “I wasn’t careful enough.”

“I see.”

“So, I’ll see you around,” she says after a minute, offering him a shy smile. Before she walks away, she raises the box of sweets with gratitude. “Thanks, again.”

“See ya,” he says, eyes lingering on her, watching her skip back toward her booth. One of the men looks at Harry and smirks, nodding knowingly. The rest of the night, he finds his gaze wandering back over to her booth. A couple of times, she catches his eye, and when they leave, in an old van with a flaking paint job that wobbles over every bump in the road, she waves at him.

It’s ten at night before he gets back to the bakery, the sun long gone, but the dry heat still hangs heavy in the air. Marty, the owner, is still in the office counting the money for the night that she probably wasn't able to get to earlier. It’s a fairly small operation, with only two baristas, two managers, Marty and Ryan, and two bakers, himself and Cas, who probably won’t have a job after today’s no-call-no-show. Harry leans against the doorframe, handing her the bank pouch.

“‘M headed out,” he says. “See ya tomorrow.”

“How was it?” She asks before he can leave. He turns around.

“Wha’?”

“The market,” Marty supplies. “Is it still as bad as you thought?”

“Today was better than others,” he says vaguely, his mind wandering to the girl at the kombucha stand. A smile plays on his lips. Marty cocks a brow, leaning back in her chair.

“So you wouldn’t mind working next week?”

“Nah,” he says, “Tha’s fine.”

That night, he dreams of a girl, with pretty eyes, a yellow t-shirt, and stained hands.

In the weeks following their first encounter, Harry takes the time to visit the kombucha girl before the market opens, and at the end of the night, she stops by to get a box of leftover baked goods. He’s learned a lot of things over the past few weeks: her name is Y/N, she’s the daughter of the owners of Mystic Meadow, her main jobs being selling at local markets and businesses and coming up with the different flavors, she’s working on her bachelor’s degree, she’s single (Harry found it difficult to contain his joy when she told him that), and she’s an all-around sweet girl, who’s wonderful with people.

Harry also found out that he hates kombucha.

But that doesn’t stop him from getting one every time he stops by. It’s normally before the market is actually open to the public. She just gets so excited whenever he tries a cup of the newest flavor, normally an odd mixture of spices or herbs with vinegar and a fermented fruit flavor—it’s not even good fermentation, like with alcohol— it tastes absolutely horrid, but Y/N looks at him with such hopeful eyes the first time he has a sip; he couldn’t bear seeing the disappointed look in her eyes, so he accepts the little plastic cup from her, nodding thankfully, and takes it back to his booth, where it will sit for the remainder of the night, untouched and dripping with sweat, leaving faint rings on the tablecloth.

“I brought you something,” she says to him one afternoon.

It’s early August, the sun at its peak, beating down on his black tee; he really needs to learn how to dress for such heat.

“Yeah?”

She lugs a black glass bottle from the cooler in the far corner of the booth, hidden behind the wooden chair for her. Her smile stretches from ear to ear; it’s hard to contain his own, but why would he want to? When you’re in the presence of beaming sunlight, you shouldn’t shy away, rather, embracing it because you never know how long it’s going to last. Her finger is hooked in the small hole near the top, and she slams it down on the table, the decorated glass jar filled with inspirational quotes and stickers with the Mystic Meadow logo on them nearly toppling over. He clumsily grapples for it before everything falls.

“Sorry,” she laughs, rubbing the sweat that has already formed on the bottle. She holds it out for him to take. “It’s a growler of the pear and pink peppercorn,” she says, smiling. He takes it gingerly from her hands, turning it over and feeling the weight.

“Wha’?”

“You said it was your favorite,” she says, her grin falling slightly. His heart stops for a second. Guilt floods him as he smiles widely, dimples settling deep in his cheeks.

“Ah, yes,” he says. “Thank you.”

It’s quiet after that. Neither of them, he’s noticed, are very good at making conversation. Y/N is normally the one to initiate the pleasantries, but it still takes a little bit before they can actually get into a deep conversation. Sure, when they finally find a subject that the both of them are passionate about, they can talk for hours, like her paintings or his music, but the starting off is always difficult. Granted, that’s not abnormal for Harry; he’s never been much of a talker. He can fake it if he has to, but he’s a bit of a blundering idiot sometimes, and he’s learned that the less he speaks, the less likely he is to embarrass himself—especially when he’s around Y/N.

He’s been trying to find the courage to ask her out on a date for the past few weeks, hell, ever since the day they met, but of course: he hasn’t. Granted, he’s never had much luck in the dating scene, probably because he can’t flirt for the life of him. There are some times where something charming comes out randomly, but it’s soon followed by an uncomfortable silence, and he gets embarrassed.

He just needs to go for it. He knows that. He tells himself that every time he misses his chance, when he waits too long, and the window of opportunity is slammed in his face. Y/N is a wonderful match for him, and she’s too sweet to completely laugh in his face or flat out reject him.

But it’s still scary. His heart is in his throat, and his palms are sweaty. He wipes them on his jeans, noticing the slight tremor. He tucks them in the pockets of his jeans (yet another terrible clothing choice for such a hot day).

He just needs to do it, rip it off like a band-aid.

“Was wondering,” he blurts out, shifting nervously on his feet. “Do you have plans on Saturday?”

“No, do you have something in mind?” She looks at him with hopeful eyes, and he melts. He wishes he could be as comfortable as Y/N, to not be constantly worried about the approval and validation of the people around him. He wonders what it’s like to wear his heart out on his sleeve.

He wishes he could live like that.

“Uh, I have work,” he says, “but after, maybe, we could get dinner?”

“Sounds like a date.”

—

The Sweet Spot Bakery and Cafe is a cute little shop on a corner in downtown, ironically next to a nutrition store. A blue neon sign shaped like a mug flashes in the corner of Y/N’s eye. Rain pounds onto the red and gold striped awning, dripping onto the flooded concrete. There’s cute flower boxes beneath the windows, but the flowers look sad and droopy, the dirt splattering out with every powerful raindrop. Antique metal tables are stacked in the far corner, out of the rain. Y/N shakes off her umbrella.

A sweet chime sounds when she pulls open the door. Inside, the scent of coffee and sugar fill her senses. There is just something so comfortable about being in a bakery or even a cafe that always reminds her of warmth, of intimacy, of home. The shop is fairly empty, with an older man reading in one of the corners, snug in a velvet chair, and a couple quietly chatting on the other side, hidden behind a hanging plant, their legs crossed over each others’ on a leather stool.

An older woman greets her from behind the counter, obscured by a gold espresso machine. She’s short with graying black hair, brown eyes peeking behind horned glasses. Her red painted lips stretch into a smile.

“How can I help you, sweetheart?”

“Hi, is Harry here?”

As if he could hear her, Harry stumbles out from the back, the door swinging idly behind him. Flour coats his arms to his elbows, with a few stripes on his nose and forehead. The green bandana struggles to hold back his hair, curls slipping onto his forehead.

“Y/N,” he breathes out. He wipes his hands on the apron, a cloud of white billowing out. He coughs. He shoos the woman away and leans against the counter, his features impassive. To the untrained eye, he looks normal, fine, calm, even, but Y/N has learned how to read him; from the faint blush on his cheeks to the look in his eyes, which are unable to meet hers. He looks anxious, more so than usual, and there’s a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Sorry, I forgo’ to tell ya, but I’m scheduled to close tonight.”

“That’s fine.” She tries to hide the disappointment in her voice. “We can do this some other time, then.”

“I can take my break in a bit. Marty doesn’ really mind how long it takes. D'ya wanna sit? Be out in a minute,” he says quickly.

“Sure,” she says, nodding. She opts for the corner booth, away from the other customers. Harry comes out from behind the counter only a moment later, like he promised, clean with a large white mug clutched in one shaky hand and a white box, wrapped in a pretty gold bow, in the other.

“Here ya go,” he says, sliding a large mug toward her. Foam sloshes over the edges and onto the table, wetting the napkin under the cup as well as her hand. He curses under his breath, grappling for the napkin dispenser. A poorly shaped face made with cinnamon smiles up at her, and she wants to aw at the sight, her lips pouting.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, wiping her hand with a stale paper napkin.

“It’s fine, H,” she whispers, placing her hand on his.

He doesn’t really know why he’s so nervous (more nervous than usual). It’s not like this is his first time meeting her; they’re comfortable with each other, and they joke around, and he also knows that she’s interested because of how understanding she was when he told her that his shift changed, or maybe that is a sign that she’s not interested.

He really needs to stop overthinking these things.

He’s a grown man. He should be able to talk with her without his hands clamming up or his heart beating out of his chest. Maybe it’s the pressure of it being defined as a “date” that makes it even worse. He just hopes that he doesn’t psych himself out.

“Thank you.” She grins.

“No problem. Remembered that ya told me once that you liked honey and cinnamon.”

Her heart swells at his words. Even though Harry puts on an uneasy exterior, he’s very attentive and loving. None of her exes would have remembered how she took her coffee after she mentioned it once.

“Sorry,” he says again suddenly, looking at the sad excuse of a smiley face on her drink. “Don’ normally work the front unless it’s too busy.”

“You should. Such a pretty face, I can’t keep it all to myself.” She pinches his cheek, and he shys away, swatting at her hand playfully. He nudges the box toward her.

“Macarons. Your favorite,” he says, and she nudges it to the side, taking a large gulp of the coffee.

“How’s it been today?” She asks, rubbing some of the foam off with her thumb.

“Slow,” he admits, breathing out shakily. His feet tap nervously on the floor, tapping back and forth, from heel to toe.

“Hey, it’s just me,” she says, placing a gentle hand on his. “No need to be nervous.”

“Right,” he says, nodding. “I jus’ feel like I should apologize again. I should’ve said something to you about my shift change.”

“It’s no problem, Harry,” she reassures him.

“I just got promoted. Marty needs help with orders and stuff, so I’ll be the bakery manager, now. She wanted me to close as a part of my training.”

“That’s great,” she smiles, lacing their fingers. He stares at them, his thumb tracing over her knuckles gently. Her skin is calloused and warm. He tugs her hand up to his lips, and she gives him a shy smile.

“You’ll still be working the markets, right?”

“Ya can’t get rid o’ me tha’ easily, lovie,” he smirks.

“Good.”

They talk for a good ten minutes, but the conversation is no deeper than the short interactions they normally have at the markets.

Harry wishes that wasn’t the case.

“Harry,” Marty calls from behind the counter, interrupting them. “A timer’s going off. What’s it for?”

“Oh, um—” He stands up, looking at Y/N with apologetic eyes. “I promise I’ll make it up to ya. Tomorrow?”

“Sure,” she says, downing the last of her drink and gathering her things.

“Brunch? I’ll text ya?”

“Harry,” Y/N calls out after he slips behind the counter.

“Yeah?”

She presses a quick kiss to his cheek, not missing the red forming on his neck.

“See you tomorrow.”

She gives him a wink before leaving. Harry stands, stunned in silence, his fingers tracing the warmth lingering from her lips.

“Whipped,” Marty mutters, a soft smirk toying on her lips.

“Shut up,” he scoffs.

“I’m not judging. It’s cute, H.”

“I don’ need this, ‘kay?”

She throws a wet towel at him, catching his leg before the door to the back closes.

—

As promised, they had Sunday brunch, with bottomless mimosas and American biscuits, something he still isn’t used to, with jam and poached eggs. Y/N, who is a lot bolder when she has some alcohol in her, chattered on and on about her friends, her parents, and her classes. College never seemed like an option for him. He always held the belief that in his career choices, a baker or a musician, he doesn’t need a degree; you either have it or you don’t type situations.

But Y/N, the smart little cookie, loves school. She talked about how she may get an education degree, but one is plenty of work right now. She commended those brave enough to be in a double major. She asked him about his family and his job, mostly; he would rather listen to her than talk, so he kept his answers short and sweet.

Afterward, they went to the park, cliche as it seems, because even though he’s lived in the area for nearly five years, he never took the time to stop by any of the parks, and Y/N took full opportunity of this: she gawked at him, pulled him out of his chair at the bistro, and slammed some cash onto the table. He tried to argue with her, that he should at least leave the tip, since he was at fault for their date yesterday not going to plan, but she wasn’t listening.

“I can’t believe you haven’t been to any of the parks,” she said, tugging him along the sidewalk. “There’s a nice one around here, only a ten minute walk. It has a pond and that cute little playground equipment—you know, the tiny slides with tiny stairs for the little kids. Do you remember those?” She stops. “Should we get bread to feed the ducks?” She shakes her head, answering her own question. “No, we can do it some other time.”

They spend the rest of the day by the pond, people watching, another one of Y/N favorite past times. After dinner, Harry didn’t get home until after sunset and went to bed with a smile on his face.

The next day, Harry spends two hours contemplating whether or not it was too early to send a good morning text. He nervously rolled around in his bed before he accidentally sent the message. She responded quickly after, and they talked for the entire day (seriously, he didn’t get up unless he absolutely had to).

Tuesday, market day, comes around quickly, and Harry gets there earlier than usual, not so subtly waiting for the Mystic Meadow van to chug through the grass lot, and when it does, his heart speeds up, but he doesn’t recognize the girl that hops out of the passenger side.

His mind runs amuck, as usual. Even though they talked nonstop the day before, he thinks that maybe she’s not here because she doesn’t want to run into him, that she was annoyed by him already, his wariness and nerves. His heart skips a beat at the thought. He tries to reassure himself that there are so many other possible explanations, but his anxiety wasn’t having it.

It takes him a while to gather the courage to go over to the booth, and he tries to act as inconspicuous as possible, pacing slowly in front of the other booths, organic fruit, soap, paintings, and jewelry, until he’s at Mystic Meadow. The chalkboard sign that usually says Y/N’s name in fancy lettering says, ‘Florence will be helping you today’ instead. A girl with very long, very bright hair turns toward him. Thick blue eyeliner outlines her eyes, and smattering of freckles enlivens her pale skin.

“Can I help you?”

“Where’s Y/N?”

She looks taken aback by the question.

“Sick,” she answers slowly, brows furrowed.

“Oh,” he whispers. “‘M Harry,” he says. Her eyes widen suddenly, and she gives him a quick once over, leaning her hip against the table.

“You’re Harry?” She laughs. “We thought she was making you up.”

“Tha’s...” Harry doesn’t really know how to feel about that; it’s a cacophony of pride, excitement, and little anxiety. Pride for the fact that Y/N talked about him to her coworker (and potentially even more people, since Florence said “we”), excitement from the fact that Y/N seems very interested in him, and, of course, anxiety from this stranger's piercing gaze. He wonders what Y/N said about him; maybe she talked about how awkward he is or his gauky figure or his clumsiness—

“How sick is she?”

“Not too sick,” Florence says, winking.

“Oh, tha’s not—“

He hates the fact that he actually sounds disgusted, even though he honestly doesn’t mind the thought of it. Sure, Florence is right; he wouldn’t mind being with Y/N in that way, but that’s beside the point. They have only been out on two dates, and the first one was at his work, of all places, so he doesn’t really count that one. He wants to take their relationship slow.

“I’m messing with you,” Flo laughs, crossing her arms, “Although, it is nice to see a grown man blushing.”

“‘M not blushin’,” he says, wiping at his cheeks petulantly. “Uh, is Y/N alright? How sick—” He swallows thickly. His skin heats up even more, struggling to find his words. He’s trying to figure out how to ask where Y/N lives without sounding like a stalker. Maybe he should just ask Y/N himself.

“Where, um, does she—”

“Here,” she says, chuckling. She rips a piece of paper loose from under the register box and writes down an address with looping script.

“Thanks.” He leaves the booth with a quick nod, the paper clutched tightly in his sweating palm; hopefully, it doesn’t smudge the ink.

“Hey, Harry,” she calls out. He turns. “You’re a good guy. I’m glad she met you.”

If he wasn’t blushing before, he sure as hell is now.

—

Y/N looks worse for wear when she answers the door to her apartment, eyes tinted red with exhaustion, puffy and droopy, and she sniffles, a stuffy breath slipping through her lips. She’s wrapped up in a fluffy blanket. Her eyes widen, and she tries to hide slightly behind the door when she sees that it’s him.

“What are you doing here?” She squeaks.

His nerves spike again, worried he’s intruding or maybe it was too soon for him to start showing up at her house unannounced, when he’s never even been there before (he knew asking Florence for her address was a bad idea). They have only been on a couple of dates, and now, he probably ruined any chances he had with her by acting impulsively and like a total creep.

“I asked Florence,” he answers softly. “Said you were sick.” When tears fill her eyes, he’s sure she’s going to yell at him for disturbing her and tell him never to come again. He doesn’t think he’s ever regretted anything so much; his skin is hot, his racing heart sinking into his stomach. “‘M sorry. I jus’ thought, since you were sick, you may wan’ some company. I’ll leave, sorry, sorry—”

“No,” she says, grabbing onto his arm before he can leave. “I’m sorry for freaking you out, but…” Her throat closes, and she tries her hardest to not start ugly-crying, but with Harry standing on her front porch, visibly drained from work, arms full of grocery and pharmacy bags, makes it very hard not to break. It’s exhausting having to take care of yourself when you’re feeling ill, and with Harry simply there, and knowing that he was thinking about her, makes things so much easier.

“You’re so sweet, H,” she says, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“May I?”

“But—” She hesitates, nibbling at her lip. “I’m in my PJ's,” she says softly.

“And ‘m all sweaty from being in tha’ sun all day,” he smiles. He lets himself in, thick boots thundering on the hardwood. “I came straight from, but I did pick up some soup and Sprite and tea. Hope you have honey and lemon,” he rambles, tugging everything out from the bags.

“Wasn’t real sure what kind of sick ya were, so…” He scratches the back of his neck. “I got everythin’.” He gives her an awkward tight smile.

“Thank you,” she sighs, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her shirt. “Do you wanna shower? I’m sure I have some clothes that can fit you.” She guides him to the bathroom, laying some towels and clothes into his arms. “The shower head screams sometimes so don’t be worried. It normally stops if you wiggle it a bit.”

“Thanks,” he smiles. Her shower is filled with dozens of half-filled soap bottles decorated the shelves and the little basket hanging from the shower head. The hot water is nearly all gone by the time he decides to use the no-more-tears strawberry shampoo. Her towels are warm and soft, softer than he thinks he’s ever felt before, and they’re big enough to nearly swallow him whole.

He finds Y/N in the kitchen with a warped mug, seemingly handmade, filled with steaming tea. She stares at the cap of medicine on the counter, breathing heavily. He can see the confliction on her features, one moment she’s nearly convinced that she doesn’t need it, that her body can take care of it overnight, but she also knows that if she didn’t take it, she’ll be in for one hell of a terrible night; then she remembers how awful it tasted the last couple of times she’s had to take it.

Her nose scrunches when she finally decides to down it.

“Thanks for the tea,” she says, “I was just about to head to bed.”

“Oh, uh,” he says nervously. “I don’ want to impose. I’ll leave. I jus’ wanted to make sure ya had everything ya needed.”

A part of him wanted her to invite him to be with her; that part that is touch starved and eager to be near her again wants to toss any worries to the side.

“As long as you’re fine listening to my coughing all night, I’m fine with you staying the night.”

She listens to nature sounds to go to sleep.

How cute is that?

For the first couple minutes, they were ocean sounds, but she didn’t like the seagulls; she had him switch it to rain after a little bit. She looked a little embarrassed when she started playing them, but Harry listened to music in order to fall asleep, so it’s really no different. He never thought about listening to nature sounds, but it’s definitely something he could get used to.

It takes them a bit to finally get settled together. They start on their own sides of the bed. Not wanting to push his luck and make her feel uncomfortable, Harry stays on his side, trying not to hoard too much of the blankets, with a pillow hugged to his chest. She’s afraid that he won’t like her being so close to him, given her current state of health. They stare at the ceiling stubbornly, one occasionally glancing over to the other.

Soon, the night-time medicine kicks in, and Y/N throws caution to the wind.

“Fuck it,” she whispers, rolling onto her side, one arm nestling underneath him with the other prying between the pillow. “You okay with this?” She looks at him with pleading eyes, and he smiles.

How could he say no to her?

“Definitely.”

And so, she snuggles deeper into his chest, eyes growing heavy at the feeling of his fingers massaging her scalp, the scent of strawberry shampoo and Vix lulling the both of them to sleep.

—

Kissing her is something he doesn’t think he could ever get tired of. The feel of her soft lips over his, with tongue and teeth, aching and messy, is addicting. He never understood why people liked kissing so much; granted he’s only had five other ones to go off of, only two of them ever lead to a full-blown make out session on his bed, but still; how much fun could it be to practically suck another person’s face off?

But he severely underestimated the power of Y/N’s lips. The first time he felt them was a couple days after he spent the night with her when she was sick. It was a quick little peck he gave her when he dropped her off at her apartment, and ever since, he was hooked. It still completely baffles how much he aches for her lips when he can’t see her, and when he finally gets his fix, it feels perfect.

He finds himself craving the taste of her tongue.

How can someone’s mouth taste good?

It’s December, now, the market season long gone, and he and Y/N have been together for nearly five months. It’s more serious than any of his other relationships. Obviously, that’s not saying much since he hasn’t had many, but Harry slowly found himself opening up more toward her, which is more than any of his other ones.

He nips at the skin of her neck, tugging off her tee, and he finds the hickey he left a couple days ago, just below the collarbone, tongue pressing lightly on the tender skin. She whimpers.

“Fuck me, H,” she moans. She’s wearing a pink, lacy bra, the same one she was wearing the first day they met. He slips the straps over her shoulders, leaving a trail of kisses behind it. Her head lolls back against his, and his hand finds its way to her neck, caressing the warm skin. He can feel her heart rate pick up.

She slips her pajama pants and panties down, kicking them across the room. She slips further down the sheet, his hands firm on her hips. He tugs her frail bra up over her head. He fondles her breast for a bit before his lips trail down the valley, his warm mouth wrapping around her tender nipple, tongue soft against the pebbling skin. Y/N feels herself melt into him, skin sensitive to every teasing kiss he leaves down her body.

“Hey, babe?”

He rests his chin on her tummy, the thin hairs coating his jaw ticking her skin.

“Yeah?”

A sweet smile crosses her face at the chills that cover her skin when he speaks, lips so close to her skin, her pussy throbbing. Her thighs twitch. She runs her fingers through his hair, fingers smoothing the flyaways down. He kisses her bellybutton.

“I love you.”

He isn’t expecting that.

He chokes a little bit, his throat closing up on him.

“What?” He lifts himself up, crawling back up her body, and she cups his face. “Really?”

She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek.

She’s not afraid that he won’t say it back. Hell, there's a part of her that doesn’t even expect him to say it back. (There’s an even smaller part that thinks that he’s just going to leave, but she doesn’t want to think of that). She’s not afraid because she knows that she needs to be the one to reassure him, to love him, to coax him out of his shell, and she’s completely willing to do that, to put forth the time and effort, because she is wholeheartedly enamored with him.

She waits for him to process everything; she can see the confliction in his eyes. Ever the worrier, Harry is thinking of the negative outcomes that can come if he goes about this the wrong way, but he doesn’t dwell on them for too long. He thinks of the mornings that he woke up in her arms, the afternoons they spent in tje park, a new tradition for them, the evenings they spent in contemplative silence, where she would paint his profile and he would serenade her with another love song, and the nights they spent making love.

Loving her is probably the easiest decision he’s ever made.

“Love you too, babylove.”

Y/N lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and she pulls his forehead onto hers.

He wants to thank her, for being patient, for being understanding, for loving him, for just being her, really. He doesn’t think she realizes how much of an impact she has on him.

She sits up and pushes him beneath her. He leans against the headboard. It’s cold against his hot skin, sweat slipping down the small of his back. They both struggle in pulling off his pants; he almost hits her in the head. She settles low on his thighs, straddling him, and her feet tuck beneath his calves. She spits on his cock, wetting the red tip, and strokes him slowly. He moans, pouting slightly.

“No teasin’.” He tugs her forward, until their chest to chest, his hands settling low on her hips, rocking her wet pussy back and forth over the length of his cock. Her clit rubs against the head, making her hips jolt within his grasp. He easily slips inside of her, his head knocking against the headboard. She teases him, still, just barely putting the head inside before pulling out slowly. It takes a couple more tries before she sinks fully onto him, a drawn out groan slipping past his lips. He pulls her back in for a kiss, fingers trailing along the curve of her spine.

“So deep,” she moans, her thighs twitching and quivering at his side. She caresses the skin of his belly, thumb teasing along the thin hairs.

“There ya go, baby,” he coos. “Takin’ me so well.” He sets his hand on her lower abdomen, feeling the little bump. “Can feel m’self,” he smiles. He waits for her to start moving. It takes a little longer than usual, probably from the lack of preparation, but she doesn’t let that stop her. She moves her hips back and forth, wiggling about to find that one special spot.

He thrusts himself into her, and she nearly collapses completely onto him, with a broken whine breaking from her chest. Hands gripping her fleshy ass, he moans against her neck. She tastes of sweat and cherries, addicting, and she grinds harder into him, hands gripping the headboard, which hits the wall with every move of her hips. The mattress creaks noisily beneath them, but they can barely hear it over the sound of each others’ moans of pleasure.

“Love you,” he says against her lips.

She breathes out her response, a pledge of her own love; it’s weak, but that’s no surprise, since she struggles for air when he bucks his hips, hitting the deepest part of her. The aching in her chest only adds to the pleasure, the burning fire in her stomach. Her arousal slips down to his thighs.

“‘M gonna come, babylove,” he whines, skimming his nose over hers. Her teeth nibbles his lips, riding him faster.

“Come in me, H, wanna feel you,” she says breathily. His arms quiver around her, squeezing her tight to him, his face digging into her neck. Her toes curl when he comes, his nails digging into her skin. She eases him through his high, cupping his cheeks and wiping the sweat from his forehead. She pulls his head to her chest, fingers carding through his curls; his heaving breaths leaves her skin wet. She moves up, whimpering softly, but he stops her, feeling some of his cum slip out onto his thighs.

“Hm, no, lovie,” he whines, wrapping an arm around her waist. He gently moves them onto their sides, while keeping his cock nestled deep inside her. “Wanna feel you.”

She loves being so close to him, warm and full. She’s never done this with anyone. It’s intimacy at its core, with Harry holding her so tightly against him. It nearly brings tears to her eyes. She’s so glad that she met Harry, so thankful that she took that leap of faith and talked to the cute guy at the baked goods booth, who had wise eyes and a nervous smile. She’s glad that she inched past that guarded exterior to find his soft, gooey middle. Harry kisses her forehead, shifting slightly, and her sensitive walls flutter around him.

“Feels good, baby,” she moans, rubbing along his waist.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah,” she says, still at a loss for breath, her fingers absently tracing over his inked skin. Goose pimples rise in their wake.

“I don’ like kombucha.”

“Good, ‘cause I don’t like macarons.”

—

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Looks Like Someone Picked a Whole Bushel of Oopsie Daisies

Chapter Ten: Shades of Blue

As always, thanks to @edward-or-ford and @pacific-ship!

How can you leave me on my own? Desperate and destitute, these seconds feel like lifetimes without you.- New Years Day, My Dear

Mabel marked off February 1st in her calendar with an X in her pink gel pen with sparkles (was it really even a gel pen if there were no sparkles? Mabel’s opinion was firmly on the side of ‘no, absolutely not’).

Just two hundred and twelve days to go. She was counting the days, the hours, the seconds (okay, maybe just the days, she wasn’t that good at math) till her parents could no longer keep her from her soulmate.

Because on August 31st, 2017, Mabel and her super awesome brother-boyfriend-soulmate combo would be turning eighteen, and there was nothing their parents could do to keep them apart once they turned eighteen.

Their parents had insisted they were monitoring their texts, and that they weren’t allowed to speak under any circumstances.

Of course, Dipper had called Mabel from Grunkle Stan’s phone (turns out their parents had been total liars about that, too, and neither Grunkle Stan nor Grunkle Ford was in any way opposed to the whole soulmate situation) as soon as she got home, and they had both downloaded an untraceable messaging app where they could text, make phone calls, and send pictures.

As one might imagine, they sent a great deal of pictures.

And also videos.

They had a lot of phone sex and sexy texting time, okay? They’d only gotten to have actual in-person sex twice (twice!), so they had to compensate somehow.

In any case, there was nothing they could do about it before they turned eighteen, so they had to come up with workarounds.

Not that it could prevent the withdrawals that were likely to hit if another month or two went by without them seeing each other, of course, but it sure made the days go by easier.

Mabel wasn’t sure what her parents were planning to do once they hit the three month mark and the first of the withdrawal symptoms started. It wouldn’t be so bad at first, according to what Dipper had told her regarding the massive amount of research he’d done. Probably just more of the usual depression she’d been having since she watched him disappear behind their car, and then sleepiness, then headaches and body aches, and then things would get progressively worse until eventually, they wouldn’t be able to function at all anymore.

She didn’t know what their plans were for anything, really. She hadn’t spoken to them since they’d left Gravity Falls. She hadn’t said a word to them on the drive home; just put her headphones in and tuned out. She hadn’t said anything to them since, either. Her parents would try to get her to talk sometimes. Her mom did it more often. She had headphones on most of the time. She wasn’t even home very much.

She didn’t tell her parents when she was going to a friend’s house the way she had before. The first few times, her parents had called the parents of various friends until they found her. After awhile, though, they stopped.

She didn’t care if they were worried. They clearly weren’t worried enough about her and Dipper to let them be together, so Mabel didn’t see any reason to notify them or her comings and goings, despite their protests. Just because they wanted to cherry pick their concerns for her well being didn’t mean she had to let them.

Besides, she came home every few days, anyway. It was usually only for a night, of course. Then she’d go back out again. And yeah, that meant she was out on school nights, but her grades were good, and she always made it to class on time.

She wanted Dipper. She wanted to be in his arms again. She slept in the shirt she’d taken from him every night, and she hadn’t even washed it. It smelled more like her by that point than it did him, and not in a good way, either, but it made her feel a little better.

Plus, whenever she sent him pictures of herself wearing it (sometimes leaving enough of the buttons undone to where her cleavage was visible, other times leaving all the buttons undone), he got all possessive and sexy, and the night usually ended with them panting each other’s names into the phone as quietly as they could.

Mabel stared at the cheery pink gel pen in her hand. She wasn’t feeling particularly pink. She hadn’t felt pink in just over a month, as it happened. Which was strange, because Mabel always felt some shade of pink or purple.

But she could hardly remember what Dipper smelled like. She could hardly remember what he tasted like. What he felt like. If she couldn’t remember those things, she couldn’t make herself feel anything that wasn’t some shade of blue or other.

She hung the gel pen back up on her calendar, grabbed her overnight bag, and opened her bedroom door.

She had her headphones in and was looking at her phone, pulling up a playlist, so she didn’t notice her mother there until she spoke.

“Honey, why don’t you spend the night here? I’ll make your favorite, if you want, and we can watch a movie, and…” tears welled up in her mother’s eyes. “Please, sweetheart, I can barely remember what your voice sounds like.”

Well, Mabel thought, maybe you shouldn’t have decided to separate me from my soulmate, then.

With that in mind, Mabel shot her mother a glare severe enough to make her flinch, and pushed past her, her overnight bag bumping against the hallway wall as she did.

Her friends were waiting for her in their car outside.

Mabel loaded her bag into the trunk and ignored her mother watching her behind the curtains in the living room.

Squeezing into the only empty seat in the car, she grinned at her friends.

Kristin, Eva, and Julie had been total lifesavers. They knew about Mabel’s soulbro situation, and they were, like, super supportive.

“Your ‘rents still giving you shit?” Julie asked over her shoulder as she pulled out of the driveway.

Mabel sighed heavily, her shoulders drooping. “It’s not shit, exactly, just…” she sighed again. “They just, y’know. They won’t let me see him.”

“Yeah, that still doesn’t make any sense to me at all,” Kristin said, adjusting her black lipstick in a compact mirror. “I get that having an incesty-soulmate isn’t, like, ‘socially acceptable’ or whatever,” she did air quotes with her fingers, the motion seeming a bit off due to the tube of eyeliner she had in between her pointer and index fingers that she was using in lieu of lipstick. “But if my parents can handle me being bi, yours should be able to handle your soulmate being your brother.”

“Okay, so here’s the thing,” Eva cut in, turning around to address Kristin and Mabel. “I feel like, if it were me, and they were my kids, at first I’d be all freaked out, y’know? Cause like, they’re your kids, and then it turns out they’re soulmates and have to bang a whole bunch or they’ll get all eeeeuuughh, right? That’d mess anybody up, I think,” she paused for a moment before continuing. “But the thing is, though, I feel like after that initial freak out, I’d be kinda relieved, honestly.”

“Relieved? Really?” Julie was so surprised she forgot to use her turn signal when changing lanes. “Oops, my b,” she said, half to herself and half to the driver who had honked at her. Not that he could hear her, of course.

“Why relieved?” Mabel wondered.

“Well, if you’ve got a kid, right, and your kid finds their soulmate and it’s some stranger you don’t know, how do you know your kid’s soulmate isn’t gonna hurt them, or be a terrible person or something?” Eva reasoned.

“That’s a good point,” Kristin agreed, shutting her compact mirror with a snap. “Soulmates aren’t exactly exempt from domestic abuse and shit.”

Eva nodded. “Exactly, so like, if it were me, I feel like I’d be cool with it once I got used to the idea, because I’d know my kids, right, so I’d know they’d never hurt each other.”

“That makes sense,” Julie said thoughtfully.

“Mmm,” Mabel hummed. “I guess. I dunno. They’re weird about it.”

“Wait a sec,” Kristin interjected. “Didn’t you say your parents mentioned something about their parents being, like, religious fundies or something?”

Mabel nodded. “I think my grandmother on my mom’s side might be. Which would make sense, honestly, since my mom has been so militant about keeping the Dipster and me apart.”

“Okay, first of all,” Eva had a haughty air to her voice, and Mabel raised an eyebrow at her. “First of all,” she said again. “It’s ‘the Dipster and I’.”

The other three girls groaned, and Julie took a hand off the wheel to swat at her half heartedly.

“Ommigod, shut up!” Mabel giggled.

“Whatever, you love me and you know it,” Eva said with a grin.

The others grumbled but did not object.

“FYI, Mabes,” Kristin put a hand on her arm. “You should send him a selfie real quick.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” her friend nodded sagely. “You look hot, and it’s a damn crime he doesn’t get to see it in person, so you gotta help a brotha out!”

Mabel smiled and snapped a few dozen pictures of herself.

“Okay, which one’s best?” she asked, handing her phone to Kristin, who scrolled through and inspected each one.

“No, no, no… meh, maybe… no, no… oooo, yes, love it, this one, totes send this one! Look at how much boobage you got in there, just fuckin’ go for it, man!”

Mabel grinned and sent the picture to Dipper, along with a short little miss you <3 text.

He responded with a miss you too and then, two seconds after, fuck you’re beautiful.

She giggled and showed Kristin his response. “Mhm, mhm, told ya.”

“Okay, so, confession time,” Julie said, pulling into her parents’ driveway.

“Spill it,” Eva immediately demanded.

“So you guys know Chad, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Kristin said with a grimace. The guy in question was a bit of a fuckboi.

“No, don’t say that!” Julie whined, getting out of the car. “He’s really sweet!”

”Of course he is,” Eva deadpanned.

“He is!” Julie insisted. “Anyway, so he asked me out.”

Mabel groaned. “Jules, tell me you didn’t.”

“I might have, yeah.”

“Ugh, ew,” Kristin said.

“It’s not ew!”

“No, it’s totally ew,” Eva pointed out, and Mabel nodded her agreement.

“If it helps,” Julie was saying sheepishly as she unlocked her front door, “he’s really, really good.”

“Of course he’s really good, numbnuts,” Kristin said with an eye roll. “He’s slept with half the school.”

“So have you!” Julie said defensively.

“Oooo, gotta point there,” Mabel snickered, pointing a glittery blue nail at her friend.

“Yeah, but I’m, like, discreet about it,” Kristin pointed out. “And I’ve actually dated people seriously, too!”

“Anyway,” Julie cut in. “So the consensus is ew, then, huh?”

“Definitely ew,” Mabel agreed.

“Why are Chads always such Chads?” Kristin wondered aloud, opening the door to Julie’s bedroom.

“They really are,” Eva laughed, plopping down on the bed.

“Soooo…” Mabel trailed off. “Cards Against Humanity, anybody?”

———————————————————————Her friends always helped push the separation anxiety to the back of her mind, but with the other three girls asleep, there was nothing for Mabel to do but wallow.

Her phone lit up the dark room, illuminating the air mattress Mabel lay on.

Dipper had sent her a message.

I want you.

Mabel unplugged her phone and scrambled up as quietly as she could, crossing the hall into the guest bedroom and locking the door behind her and turning on the light, typing out a quick okay in response.

She knew from experience that as long as she was quiet, nobody would hear her.

Now? he asked.

Now.

And then he was calling her, and she was hastily stuffing her headphones in her ears and hitting the little phone icon on her screen.

“Hey,” he greeted, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“Hey,” she said back. It was always such a relief to hear him. “I miss you.”

“We’ve been texting all day,” he laughed.

“I know, but…”

“It’s not the same,” he agreed with the words she hadn’t said.

“Yeah,” her voice was soft, and she heard him sigh on the other end of their call.

“Can I see you?” he asked after a moment.

“Y- yeah, one sec.” They’d done this more times than she could count, but somehow, she was always nervous.

She stripped out of her shorts and unbuttoned his shirt to let it reveal her breasts, pulled her panties down a bit with her thumb and smiled into the camera.

She only had to take six or seven pictures before she had one she was satisfied with. Sending it over and promptly deleting them from her phone, she waited for it to arrive.

She knew when he got it, because he said, “Fucking hell, Mabel,” with a groan, and she could almost picture him stroking himself.

She’d only seen him do that a handful of times, when they’d gotten the chance to do this on the rare occasion she was at their parents’ for the night. She could have watched it for hours.

“You’re so perfect,” he sighed in her ear, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine he was there with her. He’d kiss her neck, maybe, and then squeeze her breasts and pinch her nipples. Mimicking the things he was doing to her in her mind’s eye, she trailed a hand down her body and stroked herself lightly through her panties, listening to the way his breath was quickening.

“I wanna see you, too, Dip,” she sighed into the phone.

A few seconds later, a picture came through of him holding himself, and when she saw him naked… well. She had seen him naked more times than she could count by that point, but it was always breathtaking each time.

“Are you wet for me, Mabes?” he murmured in her ear.

She nodded, pulling her drenched panties off and kicking them to the side, before remembering he couldn’t see her. “Yes.”

“Show me.”

She took another picture, this time of a part of herself she didn’t really understand why he wanted to see, but he liked it so she sent it to him anyway.

“I wish I had gotten to taste you,” he gasped. “I think about that a lot.”

“O- oh?” How embarrassing. She knew she was blushing. She could feel it.

“Are you blushing right now?” Dipper asked. “I bet you are. You’re so cute when you blush.” She giggled a little, and he went on. “Will you touch yourself for me?”

“Mhm.” She brushed her fingers over her slit, dipping one inside slightly, just for a second, and gasping as she did so.

“Pinch your nipples, too, okay? I know you like that.” He did know, didn’t he? He knew all the things she liked. He seemed to know them intuitively. To be fair, though, he’d said she knew all the things he liked, too.

Pinching her nipple and brushing a finger lightly over her clit, Mabel whimpered.

“Does that feel good?”

“Y- yes,” she gasped out.

“I wish… mmmf,” he cut himself off with a groan. “I wish this was your hand instead of mine.”

Mabel squeezed her breast roughly, rubbing a finger back and forth over her clit.

“Me too,” she whined. “God, Dip, I want… I want you inside me so bad, I-“

“I know, Mabes. I know. I’d give anything to be inside you right now.”

She rubbed herself a little faster, and her legs were going to give out, she could tell they were, so she allowed herself to collapse onto the cold of the hardwood floor.

“You okay?” Dipper asked when he heard her fall to the ground, concern evident in his voice.

“Yeah, I just had to… ah!” she gasped. “I had to sit down.”

“Oh, okay,” he murmured, and it sounded like he went back to stroking himself.

“I need you.” She’d resorted to begging. She always did that when she was getting close.

“I know,” he groaned. “I need you, too.”

“Dipper, I- please, I need…” she rubbed herself faster, and her hips lifted off the floor an inch or so.

“I know,” he said again.

“I need you.” She couldn’t stop. It felt too good. “I need it, I want you so bad, please,” she begged. “Please give it to me, please Dip, god, I can’t-“

“Are you gonna cum for me, Mabes?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, I’m gonna- fuck, I want your cum in me, yes-“ her wrist hurt, but she kept going. She was so close, so fucking close-

“Cum for me, I wanna hear you cum for me.”

“Dipper, ah, oh fuck, Dipper, I’m gonna-“ her body spasmed, and she fell limp.

A few seconds later, he followed her with a grunt.

It had felt so good, and Mabel felt so content for a split second, because she’d forgotten that Dipper wasn’t there with her.

The tears started to fall, and she began to sniffle. It usually ended that way. She couldn’t help it.

“Mabel,” he said with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she hiccuped.

“No, no,” he assured her. “I just… I wish I could be there with you.”

“I don’t care where we are as long as we’re together,” she cried softly.

“I know,” he sighed again. “But we’ll be together soon, okay? I’ve got an idea.”

“An idea?” What kind of idea, she wondered.

“Yeah, but it’s a surprise, so until I’ve got everything worked out, just be patient for me, okay?”

“Okay,” she sniffed.

“I love you,” he told her softly.

“I love you, too.”

After a few seconds, he said, “and on that note, I need to clean this jizz off my stomach before it drips all over my bed.”

She giggled. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”

“You’ll text me tomorrow, right?”

“Uh, doi, when don’t I?” She sniffed again. It was hard to force the silliness that usually felt natural when she felt so blargh.

“Good point,” he chuckled. “Night, then. Love you,” he said again.

“Love you, too.”

After they hung up, it took several minutes for Mabel’s body to stop tingling from her orgasm, and then several more minutes before she could stop the tears and go back to bed.

Being without him was tougher than she’d imagined.

[ghostpajamas]

i looove ur art so much!! ur colour palettes are so nice !! :D super inspiring makes me wanna experiment with colour more! :> do u maybe have any tips with colour palettes? :o if not dw! :> love ur art! keep up the awesome job ❤️✨ :D

WWW THANK YOU, THATS SO NICE!!!! im glad it inspires you 😭💞❤️💞❤️

i Love to talk about using color but the second someone asks my brain melts so this might be incomprehensible ahhh

(note: this is just how i do it, i dont know normal methods. also i dont think about it when i do it so this is more trying to put my brain rules into words)

so theres 3-ish ways i tend to choose colors.

1: central color with all the other colors analogous to it, maybe 1 or 2 that break the mold in small parts (green/blue, orange) (pink, purple/green,blue)

this is generally for STRONG ambient light, affecting midtones the most.

2: color for highlights, opposite-ish color for shadows. 1 or 2 special colors for flair (desat blue-green/saturated golden brown/orange) (saturated blue-green/desaturated orange/yellow)

for... weaker? ambient light. because it affects the midtones less and is more about the direct light colors.

3: local colors with funny tinting to compensate for ambient and direct light. (ambient pink/direct blue)

weak ambient light and direct light. (i tend to use it for paintings because changing colors is hardd)

i have a chart (???) showing different schemes, some for the pictures shown above.

from left to right,

3 of the 2nd method, with a saturated light, desat shadow, the scheme of the angel painting, and a desat light, sat shadow.

then a central green scheme with desat shades of other colors so they fit in smoothly. 1st method.

and last, 1st method, similar to the tommy pic but with a few more highlights for fun.

[faraway-in-headspace]

I?? I searched Chicken Choice Judy on google out of curiosity because it sounds oddly familiar like there’s a similar-sounding name and I found 4 websites selling the shirt design. But the descriptions on these pages are BUCK WILD??

Written version of the descriptions under the cut (very long).

[Begin ID

First image states:  Long ago, when I had hair, I was an undergrad living in a house with nine other men. Near as I can tell, three of them (not sure which three) never bought food, just lived off what they stole from the Chicken Choice Judy shirt But I will love this other seven. We had several house meetings about it, but nothing changed. One day, I came in from grocery shopping. By coincidence, all 10 of us were in the kitchen. I started putting my stuff away. 1st thing I pulled out of the bag was my half-gallon of milk. I opened the carton, took a couple of drinks from the carton, then gargled some of it, and spit it back in. I opened my tub of margarine and licked the whole surface. By now, the room chatter had stopped because the other nine jaws had dropped open.) To your original question, those specific topics would take several years to build, as they depend on several layers of pre-requisites, which would require either that more advanced topics such as algebraic topology to be taught in elementary school, or that the buildup process happened blazingly fast during high school – both of which probably stretch the biological limits of what pre-teens and teenagers can reasonably be expected to accomplish. I spit on all my veggies, took the bread out of the package, and licked and spit on it, then carefully put it all back in the plastic bag. Remind teenage daughters to look through them before going on date with the boyfriend, in case they want to use one. I labeled it all and put it away. None of it was stolen. I never said a word, but I made it a point to repeat the performance anytime anyone was around to see it. Others began to emulate my approach and food theft stopped. Even I found it revolting, but it solved the problem. Works even better if you are sick or can at least make your thieving roommates think you are. While some cities are starting to reopen in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, people around the country are continuing to wear masks in public and practice social distancing. Vogue is committed to staying safe, and offering hopeful, optimistic content that highlights moments of camaraderie and exceptional acts of heroism from around the world. We are all looking for a little comfort too—be it a soothing Instagram account or a stylish creator on TikTok. It reminds us of the power of little things.

Second image states:  A couple of guests informed me my office was too minimalist and that they expected more things to be hanging on my wall the Chicken Choice Judy shirt besides I will buy this next time they visited my wife’s and my home. I kinda hope they held their breath while they were waiting for our next invitation. They both went on to backstab me and my wife pretty bad a few years later. Another set of guests tried to squat. I had driven them all the way from Florida to Massachusetts under the impression that they had jobs and a place to live lined up. They offered no money for gas, hotels on the three-day trip, or compensation for the inconvenience and effort. He even tried to weasel out of the dinner he offered as a thank you by forgetting his wallet. The dude got me off the streets years ago and I wanted to pay him back in some way, but my wife and I were in no position to have extra residents in our home. We just don’t have the room or money. I made all of this VERY clear and told my old buddy that we could only house them for a couple of days max. There are MANY other details, but the disrespectful thing my former friend said was wordless. As I was kicking them out and they were angrily loading stuff into my car to bring them anywhere but here, my buddy left his gigantic knife right in the center of my wife’s desk. Like that was supposed to make us change our minds and let them stay? In the days of dial-up, I had a family call and not be able to get through because we were online. They decided to show up unannounced. They literally caught me in my underwear as they were let into the apartment before I could even react to being rudely surprised. Some of my family members have a history of abuse, violence, and stalking, something at least one of the visitors, my mother, was quite aware of since she lived through it with me. Her tagalong friend decided to put in her two cents and tell me I should get a call waiting or a second line because they were trying to call me. That did it! I suddenly forgot I was just wearing underwear and angrily asked my mother’s friend if she was paying my phone bill. My mother-in-law, stepfather and mom’s friend beat a hasty retreat and NEVER did the pop-in ever again.

Third image states:  That was why when we did get to reality shows, Etro and then Dolce & Gabbana plus Jacquemus later in France, it was wonderful. Clothes are all about contact: As a wearer, you feel them on your skin, and as a watcher, you process them with your eye. The watching part can be done secondhand, but the Chicken Choice Judy shirt in contrast I will get this impact will always be second to the real thing. I read some commentators in the U.S. saying, “Too soon” or “Wear a damn mask!” which I always did, but these opinions while valid enough lack perspective. Milan and its surrounding region Lombardy went through what New York did but earlier. Through sagacious governmental management much more effective than that of the U.S., Italy has managed dramatically to flatten the curve across the rest of its territory. These shows just like the reopening of flights, stores, factories, and restaurants were symptomatic of recovery that, far from being taken for granted, is being tended to with vigilance and cherished with gratitude. The digital Fashion Weeks were better than no Fashion Weeks at all, but as an upgrade on the real thing? Nah. Like everyone, I missed the shows in the experiential sense this season. But for the first time since I began covering the collections several years ago, I didn’t miss a single brand or designer’s contribution to Paris Fashion Week. Which is to say, thanks to the Fédération’s online platform, I was able to watch every name on the haute couture and men’s calendars. This brand on-demand convenience not to mention being spared the logistical headaches of zigzagging across the city was pretty great. Also, everything was on time, from the films to the manner in which we filed our reviews. While efficiency can be satisfying, it’s not necessarily exciting. Ultimately, we had to accept that the focus this season wasn’t going to be the clothes but rather the brands conveying some combination of identity, process, and values. And in the absence of standardized criteria as in, showing a minimum number of looks, specifying a time range, it was interesting to observe how heterogeneous these experiments proved to be quasi–ad campaigns versus short films, conceptual or fantastical visions versus raw and documentary style. A proper kimono takes nearly an hour to put on – I’m sure most Japanese girls would much rather spend a few seconds and slip on a dress. Get survey responses from targeted consumers today.

Fourth image states:  Around a decade ago, not long after he started his own label, Massimo Alba made a great mistake. A batch of shirts and T-shirts he was working on that had already been garment-dyed one color were mistakenly exposed to another. Speaking at his showroom presentation this weekend, Alba said: “It’s very interesting to me that so many good things start out as mistakes like this.” That accident was to Alba what the Chicken Choice Judy shirt moreover I will buy this mold-infected petri dish was to Alexander Fleming: a stumbled-upon eureka that led to a career-defining course of the investigation. This collection featured a series of softly tailored jackets, corduroy pants, and shorts, plus light cashmere sweaters that were hand-overdyed two, and sometimes three colors. It’s a process that led to variations in tone that included acid-trip floods of purple on purple to subtle bleeding of magenta across mustard yellow. Like most of Alba’s garments, these dyed pieces appeared at first glance conventionally prosaic. The more attention you gave them, however, the more their exceptional qualities became evident. Take a pale blue jacket, for instance, which at that first glance seemed passingly related to a surgeon’s scrubs. To the hand it was light and almost textureless in its softness: The fabric was a cotton mousseline developed for Alba by Albini. Long-sleeved, in a delicately mottled finish of washed-out sky blue, it made for an ideal mid-summer shake in pink, sleeveless, it was an impactful shirting second skin. Other interesting developments this season included a cotton pant named the Myles with acutely kinking stitched gather at knee-level on both legs and another handsome pant, baggy in white poplin, with patch pockets. A blue tropical weight jacket named the Lenny, after Bernstein, was Alba’s interpretation of a bohemian creative’s ideal piece of workwear. Collarless shirts in ripstop linen and button-up short-sleeves in terry were further finely effective coups de théâtre. Alba is a self-deprecating yet dangerous designer: Try just one carefully chosen piece and that’s it, you’re spoiled for good because nobody else quite compares. The museum in Prague where this portrait is held describes the ring on her first finger as the ring given to her at her wedding. It’s not comfortable. Maybe a lot of girls think that a see-through blouse can attract the attention of boys or they think that it will make her look much smarter. Meghan has no dress sense: no knowledge of fabrics, fit, styles that flatter, proper tailoring, Her father raised her in L.A. Enough said. Her idea of dressing for an event is “dress up” like a little girl dressing up as a princess. Shiny! Tight! Celebrity “fashion” not elegant, just flashy.

/end ID]

[honnybunnie]

Of course! A event or party hosted by Diavolo is sure to be be grand. when you say their color, im hoping the color they usually wear or the colors they have on during their demon forms.

I apologize for how long it took, I can’t go in blind, I had to design some clothes to get a better picture of the fancy outfits<3 <3

Lucifer:

There were only 2 reasons you decided to work the party. Diavolo offered to pay for your service, and second once you saw Barbatos display your outfit it became motivation. Lucifer along with Diavolo was the talk of these parties. Even with all seven brothers you weren’t even able to attend a party with a date, so it didn’t hurt to work at a party.

This party was to celebrate Lucifer’s thousands of years of serving as Diavolo’s loyal friend.

You Stood there welcoming the guests with a bow. The guests smitten by the attire that draped your body. A white laced choker with a red bow, White corset in addition to a red blazer with stilted tails in the back, tight high waist black pants with a damark pattern. The last detail was the red peacock feathers embellished with black and gold eyes. Diavolo acknowledged that even his wait staff needed to be well suited for every occasion. You were at the command of every guest, still not having a sight of Lucifer. There was a slight touch felt on the lower back. Reacting with a full body turn, you didn’t see anyone. Sighing at the action, you resumed your duty of collecting empty champagne glasses, and handing out horderves. Barbatos sent you on a run to the kitchen to get more champagne. 

Pouring the champagne into empty glasses, you jolted at the sudden touch that was felt on your lower back. Swinging a hand to hit who the culprit, only to have it caught spinning you around to face them. Lucifer with a smirk pulled you closer by the lower back. “I apologize was this not what you wanted?,” he mumbled adjusting his lips to your ear, “Didn’t you wear this outfit to finally receive my attention. Don’t think I haven’t notice how great you look dressed as my animal, and in my color no less.”

Mammon:

You had told Diavolo about the hotels with gambling as a main attraction. Though gambling was illegal in devildom, he decided to make it into a little charity. As soon as Mammon had gotten wind of it and he needed his lady luck to attend with him. “Mc, as ya first demon, ya should know that you will be attending the gambling charity with me,” he demanded with a slight smirk, “Make sure to wear something that a lucky Lady would wear.” The night of the event you were running late, because Asmodeus kept making adjustments to your look. He said its no good looking like a cheap whore for an extravagant event.

Mammon was already at the event gambling... losing and acquiring more debt as time passed.

Emerging into the event hall multiple eyes turned to glance at your appearance, You wore a ruffled black shirt, tucked into a yellow skirt with a slit on each side of the skirt, topped with gold chandeliers earrings, and a crow pendant necklace. which Asmodeus claimed were both charmed to bring good luck. One demon already approaching them, “why Hello, you must be the hum-,” he was stopped by a knock to the teeth. “Hey they’re spoken for, don’t pursue just any human,” he growled, “this is my lucky charm.”

Walking away with arm around your shoulder, “gold really suits you,” he cooed. The night was mainly you plastered onto his lap, and when you weren’t directing touching him coincidentally he’d lose.

Leviathan:

Diavolo wanted to hold an event to help gather the otaku’s of devildom, and so he planned to host a cosplay cafe in a month, at rad. All the server’s were going to wear different outfits, and Barbatos had jolted down the measurements for the cosplay outfits that the seamstress to sew. Barbotos stated that the seamstress was going to make the outfits and design them. You were excited to see what the outfit was going be designed and sewed for you.

You were excited to tell Levi about the event, but he was always busy in the room, and when he left it was always to run to the craft store. He was definitely working on a big project. The day of the event Levi knocked on your door with a bag stretched out into your face. “th-this will look g-great on you,” he stuttered, “see you at the c-cosplay c-cafe.” Was he the one that made the cosplay, shrugging you stormed to rad.

As the cosplay Cafe was about to begin. You gazed at the cosplay in the mirror. Just wow. White collared purple tank top romper, a black tie, black bunny ears and tail. The top part of the romper was very revealing. Ready to work you picked up a plate and placed some starting treats.

You skimmed the cafe, hoping to find the purple haired otaku. Once in sight you rushed over with a skip. "Welcome back master, I hope these treats will find you well," you voiced. "M-mc!?!?! Huh.. h-huh," Levi panicking concealing his red tinted face with his arm, "t-thank YOU FOR THE TREATS... You LOOK GOOD IN THE OUTFIT I MADE." Your hunch earlier was right, you smiled and bowed, "thank you master, I hope you and I can put it to good use again." "Y-yes we will," he muttered.

Satan: 

They caught your attention at Cat Cafe. Diavolo wanted you and Satan to be at the event as helpers, because he was horrified at the thought of some of the demons would eat the cats. You both were instructed to wear a something formal with some cat ears that they will provide. Hearing this you constructed a outfit in your mind.

At the Cat Cafe you presented your self, in a green button shirt, black sailor high waist shorts, cat apron, and green cat ears to match. Satan was stealing glances at you often, and you wanted to confront him about him. “MC... you should wear those ears more often,” he whispered into your ear. He patted your butt, “Maybe next week to the library. lets make it a date while we are at it.”

You blushed at his comment. “I noticed that you choose carefully on the color too, you choose my demon color.” he added.

Asmodeus:

You knew that when ever their was a Diavolo hosted party at the fall, Asmo was always tailing someone to make them his that evening. You wanted to be the next pray, you observed his motions, and types he would pick up at every party whenever both of you attended. He prayed on the ones that covered up more. I guess he was the type to reveal what was kept to the imagination. He also really love people who showed some shoulder showing.

Arriving at the fall, with a long sleeve pink knitted shirt with the shoulders, burgundy leather pants, some caramel high knee boots, and a black scorpion brooch located on the heart. He was already prowling around, but when you swiftly swung the doors opened and strolled in, his eyes locked onto your hips. they swayed side to side, the confidence that build with ever stride.

He approached you. “Mc, what a breathtaking look,” he purred “who exactly are you trying to impress, so I can destroy them. You grin, “well then your gonna have to destroy you self,” replying calmly to his comment. Smitten by the comment he cupped your check, “Oh Mc, this color really bring out the color in your shoulders.”

Beelzebub:

You were to attend as a maid to Diavolo's tea and treat tasting party, he would compensate you for your time. Honestly all you cared about was being able to dress as a maid to impress the cute Gluttony demon. Barbatos prepared a puffy orange maid dress, that have a black leather apron, and gloves for the party. When the party was on its way, you were to offer tea to anyone who requested.

You weren't surprised to oversee the ginger take in every treat in sight. Of course wasn't there for the tea, so you walked passed him to pour some tea for someone who was asking. He must have not noticed you, continuing the duties tasked to you. There were already 2  times that Barbatos had to restock the food that Beelzebub had already consumed. Pouting that not once did he ask for tea. This time Barbatos wanted you to replenish the food that was to be laid out in front of him. 

“MC, thank you, I’ve been hoping you would serve me treats and tea,’ he smiled patting your head “you look very cute in orange. Please be my maid again soon.”

Belphegor:

A sleepover party was enough to make this cowboy excited. You could see it in his texts. Lately Belphie’s been urging you for more naps, although he thought that maybe you slept too little to begin with. He was always upset your sleep schedules clashed. If he was tired you’d be wide awake, and vise versa.

He knew that when ever Diavolo organized an event, You would always make time for it, sleepy or not. The best part was that pajama’s were a must, and you needed to make the final tug on the reel. Your attire was a satin cow patterned printed shirt, and satin navy blue shorts. though the type of fabric wasn’t as breathable, and was too nice for a sleepover. The night was spent wide awake lounging around on the bean bag chair. Closing your eyes, enjoying the rain and thunder sound a sudden weight sinked onto your lap. Glancing at a groggy Belphie, “you look adorable, so Im going to sleep here with you,” he demanded “maybe if you were my sweater you’d look cuter.” 

[zirkkun-uthcs]

Generic Headcanons (Sanses)

This list includes short bits of information on the various Sanses to be included on this blog. If you’re looking for a specific one, please use CTRL+F to search for the AU, due to the length of this list. Reminder as well that most of this information is entirely headcanon. If there’s canon information that I’ve messed up somewhere on this, please let me know so I can fix it and adjust accordingly!

Please note: When answering asks, I will first list the character being requested in the format of AU!Sans, but the nicknames here are listed because sometimes I drift off while writing and lean towards those names.

Undertale

Nickname/s: Comic, Tale Date of Birth: ??? Height: 4′9″ / 145 cm Gender: demiboy Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: demiromantic / asexual

+ takes a lot of time to like someone at all, usually by default doesn’t trust people + isn’t a fan of physical contact, but if someone was to manage to get close to him, he’s incredibly cuddly + horrible with directions, will get lost really easily; uses shortcuts to make up for it

character tag

Underswap (original concept by p0pcornpr1nce, who has left the fandom and deleted the content)

Nickname/s: Blue Date of Birth: ??? Height: 4′9″ / 145 cm Gender: non-binary Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: demiromantic / bisexual

+ is a pun connoisseur; will only accept the best puns, anything less is just unacceptable + is emotional, but tries to hide it because he feels the need to keep on a strong persona for the sake of everyone else +  is secretly an incredibly talented writer and has a lot of written works in his room

character tag

Underfell (original concept by Vic the Underfella)

Nickname/s: Red, Fell Date of Birth: ??? Height: 4′9″ / 145 cm Gender: cisman Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: panromantic / pansexual

+ is extremely self-conscious and hides this by acting like as much of a confident asshole as possible + crushes incredibly easy due to the lack of caring people he has in his life, but refuses to believe he’s lovable + secretly hates cats. doomfanger may or may not be the cause of this

character tag

Underlust  (original concept by nsfwshamecave, who has left the fandom.)

Nickname/s: Lust, Lusty Date of Birth: ??? Height: 4′9″ / 145 cm Gender: demiboy Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: biromantic / bisexual

+ is secretly a hopeless romantic, but has yet to meet anyone interested in romance over sex, so he takes what he can get + flirts with anything that breathes; has a plethora of horrible pick-up lines + has been outside of his own AU and is well-versed in the multiverse

character tag

Xtale (by jakei)

Nickname/s: Cross Date of Birth: Oct. 10th Height: 4′9″ / 145 cm Gender: cisman Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: demiromantic / bisexual

+ has difficulty trusting anyone anymore due to the betrayal he’s had in the past + he finds comfort in doodling or other art-related things, and can often be found locked away for hours doing so + will wear literally anything but his uniform when no one’s around, no matter how stupid it looks

character tag

Ink (by myebi/comyet) (same headcanons apply to Underverse!Ink)

Nickname/s: None Date of Birth: April 15 Height: 3′9″ / 116 cm Gender: demiboy Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: aromantic / asexual

+ his ink vials’ colors represent: green = comfort/safety, yellow = joy/energy, orange = encouragement/creativity, red = wrath/violence, pink = love/care, purple = lust/attraction, blue = sadness/concern, cyan = calm/relaxed + refuses to ever drink his pink or purple vials anymore due to the fact he doesn’t want to mislead people into thinking he cares about them + his tastes change based on what emotions he’s feeling/ink he’s drank

character tag underverse-specific

Pale (by unu-nunu-art/unu-nunium)

Nickname/s: None Date of Birth: May 26th Height: 3′9″ / 116 cm Gender: cisman Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: aromantic / asexual

+ clings to people who help him literally only once, because he considers all nice gestures as “Oh, so we’re friends now?” + appreciates any and all physical contact and can get a bit nervous if he’s near someone but can’t hug them + when he absorbs an AU for emotions, he has even more emotions that Ink does, but it’s far more temporary

character tag

Fresh!Ink (by myebi/comyet)

Nickname/s: None Date of Birth: ??? Height: 5′0″ / 152 cm Gender: cisman Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: aromantic / asexual

+ is a parasite like Fresh is, but isn’t the same exact one; they exist as separate beings + doesn’t ever really drink ink vials, hence why he’s replaced them with his spray cans entirely, which just contain normal pain + enjoys making large street-art style murals, but never keeps them, so he places them in hugely inconvenient parts of the multiverse just to annoy people

character tag

Error (by loverofpiggies/CrayonQueen) (same headcanons apply to Underverse!Error)

Nickname/s: None Date of Birth: April 4th Height: 5′4″ / 163 cm Gender: cisman Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: demiromantic / demisexual

+ doesn’t trust anyone and would rather just dispose of someone before he gets the chance to even try and trust them + has tried to delete his own emotions on several occasions, but concludes he must lose his SOUL to do so, and is too scared he’ll die + lacks logic due to the fact that he’s a glitch in a program, meaning he can no longer create logical conclusions

character tag underverse-specific

Template (by unu-nunu-art/unu-nunium)

Nickname/s: None Date of Birth: April 3rd Height: 4′5″ / 135 cm Gender: cisman Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: demiromantic / demisexual

+ constantly does a plethora of redeemable, good things within the multiverse to compensate for the fact he’s an “Error” + tries to be more comfortable with things like hugs in order to further distance himself from Error, despite also having haphephobia. + unlike Error, remembers his past as Geno a lot more vividly

character tag

Ragnartale (by NaomyMikolMaria) (please note I’m a bit behind on this AU)

Nickname/s: Knight Date of Birth: ??? Height: 5′5″ / 165 cm Gender: cisman Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: heteroromantic / demisexual

+ doesn’t like using his magic anymore, but can’t exactly remember why it leaves a bad taste in his mouth + actively tries to void out his emotions for others’ sake, as he finds his own life far less valuable + part of him likes being a monster more than a human, because he thinks he looks horrible now and that more people will leave him alone

character tag

Dusttale (by ask-dusttale)

Nickname/s: Dust, Dusty Date of Birth: ??? Height: 4′9″ / 145 cm Gender: demiboy Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: lithromantic / asexual

+ absolutely despises all humans and it wouldn’t be surprising if he tried to kill any on sight + can often be seen talking aloud to “himself,” but he’s actually talking to “Papyrus” + has the same observant skills as Sans and is just as quick on his feet if not faster, however he’s also more rash in his decision-making due to his insanity.

character tag

Fresh (by loverofpiggies/CrayonQueen)

Nickname/s: None Date of Birth: April 20th (pretends it’s April 1st) Height: 6′3″ / 191 cm Gender: genderfluid Pronouns: he/him or they/them Sexuality: aromantic / asexual

+ while he be default doesn’t have any emotions, if for some reason he starts to feel anything, he will reject it immediately, and become incredibly harsh + started dressing in 90′s clothes as a joke, now he enjoys them unironically and has genuinely started watching human 90′s shows + sends memes to Error just to piss him off; his favorite to send is Rick Rolls

character tag

Outertale (by 2mi127)

Nickname/s: Outer Date of Birth: ??? Height: 4′9″ / 145 cm Gender: demiboy Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: demiromantic / asexual

+ because he can see the stars all the time, he’s far more fascinated by the Earth’s sun and atmosphere compared to other Sanses + has had his jacket since he was a kid but just didn’t bother getting rid of it. that and he never outgrew it. sometimes people still think he’s a kid because of it + gets cold easily; his jacket is extremely thick and fuzzy to make up for this

character tag

Altertale (by friisans)

Nickname/s: Guardian Date of Birth: ??? Height: 4′9″ / 145 cm Gender: demiboy Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: biromantic / demisexual

+ despises his brother so much that he won’t even look in his general direction and will likely burn or destroy anything that reminds him of his brother + appears very calm and collected most of the time, but can easily turn around and be manipulative or angry when least expected + is horrible at keeping watch of the human children because he always teaches them how to exploit things and they use that against him

character tag

Aftertale (by loverofpiggies/CrayonQueen)

Nickname/s: Geno Date of Birth: ??? Height: 5′0″ / 152 cm Gender: demiboy Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: demiromantic / demisexual

+ is really bad at social interaction due to extended isolation and because of that may come off as blunt or rude + if anyone acts friendly around him, especially if they are a more physical kind of person, he will instantly not trust them + seeing spaghetti is a sure way to make him burst into tears, but he’ll pretend he’s not actually crying

character tag

Swapfell (by poptatochisp and community)

Nickname/s: Mal Date of Birth: ??? Height: 5′3″ / 160 cm Gender: cisman Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: panromantic / demisexual

+ doesn’t do well with people who disagree with him. this will cause genuine unintended arguments over the smallest things + very formal in most situations possible, but assumes everyone else should be too + is bad at emotions, just, in general. understanding them, having them, everything

character tag

[maya-tl]

Sanders Sides Among Us AU

Fuck it, it was bound to happen. Inspired by @waokevale 's incredible AU, but almost completely different from theirs. This is fairly long but I have a mighty need, so y'all gonna have to bear with me.

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IMPOSTORS: Logan/Blue, Roman/Red

CREWMATES: Patton/Cyan, Remus/Lime, Janus/Yellow, Virgil/Purple, Thomas/Pink, Emile/White, Remy/Black

???: Orange, Brown

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THE SKELD

The Skeld is manned by the core sides.

Logan is their physician/scientist and spends most of his time in Medbay, which made it easy to fabricate scan and sample datas to pass him & Roman off as crewmates.

Janus is the elected captain. He knows how to command a room and has a sharp mind, which makes him likely to spot impostors. He works in Communications and Admin.

Patton is their chef and janitor. He spends most of his time in the Cafeteria and is the only one authorized to use the vents. He takes care of the trash and cleans the vents and O2 shoots.

Virgil is their engineer. He's all over the place, from Electrical to the Reactor to the Engines to Storage, but he spends most of his time in Electrical. He's partially colourblind and struggles with the wires.

Roman is their data analyst and head of security. He alternates between watching the cameras in Security and transferring data to Admin. He's a master of sabotage and can fake tasks flawlessly. He sometimes helps Virgil with the wires.

Remus is their technician and weapons specialist. He spends most of his time playing asteroids in Weapons, but also primes the shields and checks Navigation from time to time. The ship is on autopilot, but it requires occasional manual adjustments.

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MIRA HQ

Mira HQ is run by Thomas, Remy and Emile. It serves as a home base to The Skeld and a permanent residence for them.

Thomas is in charge of the base. He spends most of his time in Admin and the Office, and regularly checks in with Janus in Communications.

Emile is their primary physician, who also doubles as a therapist/gardener. He keeps track of their storage, keeps the Cafeteria stocked and looks after the Greenhouse. He does checkups for the crew when The Skeld stops by.

Remy is their engineer and technician. He's all over the place, doing wires, checking O2, monitoring the weather or doing asteroids. When The Skeld is docked he spends most of his hours at the launchpad checking for anomalies. The rest of the time he alternates between Reactor and the Balcony.

Bonus:

*The vents on Mira HQ are never secured and Remy uses them frequently to get around faster, even though he's not an impostor. He's the only one authorized to do that.

*No one on base uses the laboratory, but they let Logan loose in there when The Skeld docks.

*Neither Logan nor Roman can go through Decontamination safely. The chemicals burn them.

*Emile is the legal guardian of two orphan children: Elliott and Kai. They both like to water the plants. Elliott never strays far from Emile, but Kai sometimes plays asteroids with Remy.

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POLUS

The Polus research station is technically abandoned, but it has yet to fall into disrepair.

It used to be manned by a full crew of ten. Most of them were reassigned after it supposedly closed down due to unstable weather conditions, but Thomas still receives regular updates from the station that are definitely manually sent.

The Skeld is not authorized to enter the sector of space in which it is located. They were assigned only once, to investigate the updates, and while the station looked to be in use, they found no life forms and had to depart prematurely.

Logan was the only one who had anything noteworthy to report: all the vital monitors had been disconnected from the mainframe except for two people, under the codenames Orange and Brown.

Virgil claimed to have seen silhouettes through the snowfall, but couldn't identify them.

Logan and Roman have their suspicions, but they can only recognise a fellow impostor if they meet them in person and they hadn't managed to run into anyone on the station, even with their superior vision.

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Fun Creativitwins Facts:

*Roman and Remus are not biologically related, but they do look very much alike. 

*Remus knows his brother is an impostor and keeps trying to coax him into committing murder for fun.

*No one suspects either of them because impostors are not known to have siblings, but if they had to guess they would pick Remus.

*Janus knows. He figured it out. Remus knows that Janus knows, Roman suspects that Janus knows, and Janus knows that they know that he knows. None of them have brought it up.

*Virgil made a dark joke once and Remus immediately adopted him as the Third Brother. Neither Virgil nor Roman had a choice in this matter, but they’ve warmed up to each other.

Other Miscellaneous Facts:

*Virgil has mild Protanopia, a type of red-green colour blindness. He sees the world in shades of yellow and blue, which makes it difficult to identify people when they’re fully suited up. He tends to stick with Logan or Janus.

*Patton kept scaring Virgil half to death by popping out of vents at inopportune times, so they had to learn each other’s schedules and work around them.

*Thomas was suspicious of Janus for the longest time, because he carried himself like someone who had something to hide, but eventually learned that no, he’s just really skilled at keeping a level head and mediating conflicts.

*Virgil once fell asleep in Medbay listening to Logan talk about samples. Logan, who was used to people being discomforted by his presence, decided he would protect Virgil with his life.

*Roman likes to personally check in with people around the ship, just to have some company. The only person who passes by him when he’s on Cams is Virgil, who does a lot of back-and-forth trips between the Engines.

*Remus often neglects to prime the shields, but claims to compensate by doing double and triple shifts on asteroids, because “the ship can’t get hit if there’s nothing left to hit it”. This has caused multiple emergencies that had nothing to do with either impostor.

[thecrazyworldbuilder]

Raclis

(Rah-ck-lee-s): a list of intelligent species that are made up by me, both alien and fantasy. This is Episode One, where we gonna see some of the races from the A litera.

(PS: I have a list of 203 fantasy/alien races and most of them are my own creation, while the others are the classical elves, centaurs, orcs and et cetera. The list is arranged in alphabetical order and for now has only the shortest descriptions: these posts will be something like a description paper for every single race. I would love questions asked and will answer them with pleasure.)

Abyss Elves

Once technically normal elves, a large group of them was sent into the Abyss (also called Aumenel) for crimes they didn’t commit. Locked here for eternity, they slowly forgot most of the information about their past. They praise the myths about the sun, the sky, a world where there is no pain and darkness. They started calling each other Foariar (Those who are without sunlight). And slowly evolved into their modern looks. Dark skin, tints of green and purple, turquoise glowing eyes, whitish pink hair. Their blood is dark purple and has an odd scent of mashed tulips.

Fast facts:

- Super good climbers and parkourists due to the terrain of the Abyss.

- Are mostly always ripped athletes. 

- When cut off, their hair will glow a pretty bright light for nearly five hours.

- In sunlight they go into an euphoric state which they hardly resist.

- Are incredible hunters and gatherers: farming in the Abyss is almost impossible.

- Abyss Elves have migrated to many other realms, especially the Spring World.

- They name their realm, Aumenel, means “without sky” in quenya.

Onomasticon: 

(for Spring World Abyss Elves)

Gender-reversed modern european and ancient greek names. (Aurorus, Eugenia, Xenis, Anastasius, Agath)

Anagrams from spanish. (Roucos, Roeherr, Cadoraz, Jerichoter, Viona)

(for Abyss inhabitants)

Quenya and latin hybridisation (Hravai, Ilmarinorum, Incatrix, Terrandil, Indos)

Ada’klo

One of the species from the realm of Emiare, which is bound to the very fabric of time. Ada’klo - as all the other races from the klo family - have something called a cycle: a period of time when they exist. Their cycle is ten years long. Thus, they live for ten years, and afterwards disappear only to appear again after the same ten years without aging anyhow. 

Fast facts: 

- Due to their cycle length they gather at the great Adakloan Temples, where their place of disappearance is kept safe.

- Ada’klo look pretty much like humans, but are slightly different on the inside, anatomically and chemically.

Onomasticon:

Use old english and european names. (Alcott, Demelza, Borden, Terrel, Sacrifice)

Ain’klo

One of the species from the Emiare realm, these members of the klo species family have a one thousand years long cycle. 

Fast facts:

- Have an incredible ancient culture which has many customs, like forced marriage (from both sides), child labour, extreme xenophobia.

- Are dangerous and non educated, will fight to death only to keep their traditions.

Onomasticon:

Use ancient babylonian names and their imitations. (Akki, Marnabu, Nazarat, Buvalu, Irigibel)

Aliquenar

A race which somehow combined all of the main features of elves, dwarves, orcs, humans and halflings. Slightly greenish skin, pointed ears, not-so-long beards, big hairy feet, no need in sleep and the ability to see over the horizon. Like jack of all trades, they have a wide set of talents and opportunities, but are masters of none. Hated among all of the species they combined in themselves, they try to live peacefully in their cities, not willing to make any conflict.

Fast facts:

- Due to the discrimination directed at them from the other races, they have a trait of being shy, polite and quiet.

- Are able to learn magic on the same level as humans.

- A legend has it that they came from a city trapped in the mountains, where all the five races met and after a long long time merged into one by breeding.

- Some may have more standing out traits of a specific compound race: as, orc tusks, elven lack of facial hair and eyelids, dwarvish height or beards, strange sexual dimorphism and others.

Onomasticon:

Use the languages and names of the humans, elves, dwarves and hobbits (orcish names are way more rare), and then, if wanted, merge them together, imitate them. (Legoli, Aiwenson, Thurwise, Kurumiel, Indis)

Alfers

Species of semiquadruped lizards with telepathic minds, which are able to evolve fast, adapting to the stressful situations. Tall two and half meters in the withers (8’2 feet) and long nearly five (16’4 feet), they are agile, omnivore and strong.

Fast facts:

- Alfers evolve fastly not only biologically, but linguistically. Their language changes so fast no one will never understand what they are saying, except some separate words, taken from other languages.

- Alfers are able to speak telepathically, but only talk: not reading thought but hearing the inner monologue of someone, thus communicating.

- They have a high regeneration factor, and are hard to kill.

Onomasticon:

Any possible names, words, abbreviations and anagrams. (Villaissa, Gerdan, Menttor, Seba, Lmne)

Anciento

Race of stickman-like, three eyed beings with high power and unreachable wisdom and intelligence. Can reproduce by giving any other living thing something they call “open intellect”, and then teach them how to turn into an anciento. Well, traditional reproducing is possible too.

Fast facts:

- While reproducing they, ironically, do not know how to turn back into their original state.

- Know a wide spectrum of using life energy for different purposes.

- Are able to fall into an anabiosis state for a long time.

- Are almost instinct.

Onomasticon:

Names are mostly two syllables, unisex, and have no meaning, because of their proverb “You mean nothing at birth: give your name a meaning by yourself”. (Koni, Jaro, Neho, Mibta, Vere)

Androids of Binarica

Robots made by the techno-magic goddess-planet Binarica. Are unique from other robots by their design: solid parts are slowly merging into soft ones, and they look humane but have slightly object-like heads.

Fast facts:

- Were being enslaved for many centuries by other races of Binarica.

- All of them by custom have light-blue photosensors (eyes).

- Follow directives, which can be changed by hacking.

- Feel emotions and have souls.

Onomasticons:

Leet, deites on abbreviations, scientifical termins, or even all at once. (M45 T4R, G3x2x2, S5Z2, Tetratom, Cleleven Zero)

Anmanibes/Ri’be’li

Species from a far realm of jungles and plains, anmanibes have some unique features. First of all, they have no arms. At all. Down to the shoulderblades - no arms. But thye have a compensation for this flaw: the ability for telekinesis, and many other paranormal abilities. Anmanibes (which means “armless”) call themselves Ri’be’li - “the second born children of the gods”. They are digitigrade and have a pretty long lizard-like tail they use for balance. 

Fast facts:

- Ri’be’li are one of my favourite races.

- The paranormal abilities they are known to posess are: channeling (speaking with spirits and other paranormal deities), levitation, telekinesis, telepathy, biolocation, materialisation, atmokinesis, aeromancy, pyromancy, thermokinesis, teleportation, television, precognition, and other.

- Have two pairs of eyelids: one for blinking and one for “television”, or also called telescopic vision.

- Have ears which are suspiciously pointed, like those of elves.

- One myth from their culture says that the ri’be’li were born from the us’ib’tor’tor: a firstborn race in their world. The first ri’be’li was called A’ud’ca, and he was born without arms. His parents abandoned him, but A’ud’ca had the power to bend wills of other people, and slowly he made it so other us’ib’tor’tor could give birth to ri’be’li, and then he somehow, after a long time, made the us’ib’tor’tor race vanish into the sands of history, giving place for ri’be’li to rise.

- Most of them are disgusted by arms and hands in general, calling any creature with arms an a’us’cla (limited).

Onomasticon:

Use latin, then take every syllable and put them in reverse order, placing apostrophy between each syllable. Most names are gender neutral. (Pha’al, Ta’del, Ta’be, O’di’gla, Ra’tet)

[mamichigo]

Title: glass bottles

Pairing: Kokichi/Shuichi

Rating: G

Word count: 2,1k

Tags: Fantasy, Fairytale Elements, Phantom Thief Thief Kokichi (with a twist), First kiss

Summary: Shuichi has something of his stolen in the quiet of night, by a boy with mischief in his eyes.

Notes: Gift for participant #29 in the @kokichigiftexchange

*

Shuichi had seen them only briefly. One glimpse of a large smile with sharp teeth and purple eyes that seemed to glow. They were light on their feet, quiet as the night as they made it inside Shuichi's room on their tiptoes, like a particularly graceful ballerina. Shuichi didn't have a chance to speak up before the person raised a hand and blew glittering powder into his face. He had collapsed on the spot, but not before the mysterious person supported his swaying body by keeping a hand on his back and another to the back of his head.

The next morning, Shuichi woke up with glitter in his hair and on his fingers, along with a sense that something had gone wrong. Or, like something had gone missing.

He didn't realize the source of that impression until his friend, noticing Shuichi failed to react at all to upsetting events, joked that maybe his emotions had been snatched while he wasn't looking. Kaede had also been startled when he pinned her with an intense gaze and agreed with a terse nod.

"Is it really possible to steal someone's emotions?" Shuichi asked.

Kaede, never one to ignore even his silliest remarks when he was serious about it, put a hand to her chin. "It's not impossible around these parts. I might have heard something like that before, but it's more of a story to scare children than an existing fact."

"But we can't say for sure it doesn't exist?"

"That's right."

Satisfied, Shuichi relented and allowed the topic to change. As soon as he was done, Shuichi set out to research if there was any chance that he had been robbed of his emotions after all. After days of talking to more people than he was comfortable with, Shuichi found somewhat of a specialist (or so that was what he claimed to be). He had an oppressing, almost scary aura to him, but the man spoke of tails that made Shuichi go a little bit starry-eyed.

"Spirits are quite the trick loving bunch," Korekiyo explained over a cup of tea, "perhaps to compensate for what they didn't have the chance to do in life."

"So they're dead…?"

Though Shuichi couldn't see Korekiyo's mouth, he was sure he was smiling somewhat mockingly. "Yes, that would be the logical conclusion."

Shuichi hummed and looked down at his hands. Maybe he'd feel a little sad for this person, if they hadn't stolen his ability to do so.

"Is there any chance for me to find them?"

"Luckily for you, I have many reasons to believe you've encountered a spirit I'm already familiar with."

From the subsequent long monologue that he listened to, Shuichi extracted two important pieces of information: go north, find the closed orphanage that stands at the top of the hill; and, his little robber was apparently a boy who called himself a phantom thief. Or rather, the Phantom Thief, capitalized. Shuichi was doubtful that was his true name.

Nonetheless, Shuichi set out just as instructed. On the sunset of the next day, Shuichi had found himself facing the building that looked a bit like an abandoned church rather than an orphanage, if only because all the windows were stained glass colored vibrant red and pink, for the most part. Shuichi squinted at the building as he struggled to catch his breath.

Though Korekiyo had believed the opposite, Shuichi didn't feel safe, after all. Even a village kid as him knew the stories about people who encountered spirits and never came back afterwards, and knew even more of the ones who returned but not as themselves. Shuichi clutched the sleeves of his shirt.

While he pondered if he should go in or not, the doors slammed open on their own. A giggling voice could be heard, distant; a whistle of the wind. Shuichi tensed up, but shrugged to himself. That was as much of a friendly invitation as he would get, he decided.

The atmosphere inside the orphanage was strange, but perhaps only because he passed rows and more rows of open bedrooms, with beds as small as the ones he used to have in his room when he was nothing but a child. The place was covered in dust and debris, as well as wildlife, like it had been standing so long it was now splitting at the seams.

Though Shuichi was sure he had been wandering without aim, his feet took him to the only room that seemed lived in, to a sense. The dining hall had a table in the middle that went on for miles, and it was the first object Shuichi saw in here that was not dirty. It was also lined with candles in fancy candelabra, making the room just a bit too warm.

The room changed once he stepped properly into it. The bare, rotting walls were now covered in an intricate, elegant wallpaper; the table was surrounded by too tall chairs with plushy looking cushions; the table itself was now full of plates of all kinds of sweets that Shuichi had never seen before. At the center of it all, a carefully balanced tower of beautiful glass vials, adorned with flowers or stars or wings.

Finally, at the head of the table, swimming in his chair, sat a boy who watched him predatorily. Shuichi recognized his teeth first, bared in a childish smile. His face was framed by swirls of red paint, but the rest of his attire was perfectly pure white.

"Phantom Thief," Shuichi greeted.

"So you already know who I am," the Phantom Thief drawled his words, pleased with this outcome. "I'm so glad you went through the trouble of finding me!"

Guessing it was alright to do so, Shuichi sat on the opposite side of the table. The glass tower in the middle obstructed their vision, and they both inclined their heads at the same time to look at each other.

"Of course I did, you have something of mine," Shuichi said, straight to the point.

The Phantom Thief pouted. "We could've made a game out of it, you didn't need to say that right away." He heaved a forlorn sigh. "The rudeness of it all."

"Game?"

"Of course, I love games. Don't you?"

"Occasionally."

The Phantom Thief nodded twice, then dipped his finger into the nearest platter of food. He stuck his finger into his mouth, and promptly spat out whatever it was he just ate.

"Let's talk business, then," the Phantom announced magnanimously. "You're here for what I've stolen from you, is that right?"

"Yes."

"And what are you willing to do to have it back?"

Shuichi blinked. "I don't have to do anything since it's rightfully mine."

There was a stunned silence, followed by loud laughter. The Phantom Thief clutched his sides and his head dipped out of sight for several moments, but Shuichi could imagine the amused expression that was currently on his face.

"That's not how it works here, sorry." He didn't sound apologetic at all. "You have to try harder than that if you want your flask back."

Immediately, Shuichi's eyes were drawn to the glass standing between them. The Phantom Thief applauded him.

"That's right, that's where it is!"

The Phantom Thief stood up and turned to face his chair, then he put one foot up on it, followed by the other. He climbed onto the cushion, then the table with the nimble movements Shuichi just vaguely remembered from their first encounter.

"You see, this wasn't my first heist," the Phantom spoke while he kicked food, delicate china and expensive cutlery aside with the tip of his shoes. He walked to the middle of the table until he could reach for the vials shining in the candlelight. "Yours wasn't all that difficult to catch, either. But it's very special to me, so I can't give it back so easily."

The vial at the very top, placed in the spot of honor, was removed from the overall tower by the Phantom's hands, then held to his chest as if cradling a child.

"So, what is your proposition?"

Shuichi frowned as he watched the navy blue liquid inside slosh. He wondered what would happen if it fell, then broke. Shuichi clutched his hands to his knees.

"What could you possibly see in my sadness?" Shuichi inquired, and if he sounded miffed, well. He was. "Wouldn't it be more rewarding to steal someone's happiness?"

The Phantom contorted his face into a grimace. It made the paint on his cheek distort disturbingly.

"For the record, we don't steal anyone's happiness. That's against the rules." He tilted his head. "Right?"

The question wasn't directed at him. He saw nine heads, nine people all dressed similar to the Phantom Thief, nod in agreement then disappear before Shuichi could process that he wasn't hallucinating. He shuddered as he realized he was being watched by whoever those people were.

"I suppose that's fair," Shuichi conceded. He added, mildly, "But that doesn't explain why you did it, and why you won't return it to me."

The Phantom Thief rolled the flask in his hands and spun a circle himself as he went over the question.

"You wouldn't remember anyway," the Phantom decided.

"Enlighten me."

The Phantom was slightly taken aback by the response, a small stumble to his steps a proof of it.

"...Huh." The Phantom thought and thought, and finally said, "You felt sadness for me."

Shuichi furrowed his head. He was sure he wouldn't have forgotten about an encounter like that.

"When?"

"In a dream."

The Phantom decided to continue his track, this time towards Shuichi. There was more clatter as everything in his path was damaged beyond use. He came to stand above Shuichi, chin tilted up as he looked down on Shuichi.

"Or maybe I'm lying,?" The Phantom Thief challenged. "You'll have to find out yourself, all you have to do is remember. Now, I'll be taking this--"

Shuichi grabbed his ankle before the Phantom could turn on his heels. The Phantom tested the strength of his grip, but didn't try to break free.

"What do you want?" Shuichi asked.

"Oh?"

"We could strike a bargain."

The Phantom smiled in clear self-satisfaction, and from this angle it looked especially cat-like.

"Aren't you the courageous type," the Phantom complimented.

"It can't be anything too bad," Shuichi defied, but the words weren't convincing even to himself.

"You're so lucky I have just the thing in mind today, and it should cause you little to no pain, as long as you don't struggle too much." The Phantom Thief bent down, and suddenly he was crouching and leaning close to Shuichi. "How about it?"

"I'd like to hear what it is, first."

The Phantom Thief giggled. "Alright." He tilted the vial this and that way, showing it up to Shuichi. He inched himself a tad bit closer. "I'll give you your precious emotions, the one I've been treasuring… I'll give it to you, as long as you kiss me in return."

Shuichi couldn't help but gape. He was back to clutching his knees, for an entirely different reason. 

"...Is that all?" Shuichi choked.

"You're blushing," The Phantom pointed out without mercy. He watched Shuichi as his face went through the full spectrum of the color red. "So, what will it be? Take it or leave it, I won't take any other bargains, and I won't wait forever. Tick tock, Shuichi."

Shuichi swallowed dryly, and, with his head blessedly blank, pushed himself up by the chair's armrest, and his head met the Phantom's halfway. Shuichi expected him to be cold, to be a corpse covered by a porcelain face, but the Phantom was warm and pliant above him. The Phantom's hands trembled and Shuichi had to grab for the vial before it fell. The sudden touch of skin on skin broke Shuichi's thread of reason, and his other hand found the Phantom's hair and stroked the back of his head.

The Phantom's lips tasted of nothing. Shuichi exhaled softly and found some echo of a distant memory, not his own. Shuichi pulled back, vial in hand.

"Was that enough?" Shuichi asked, voice hoarse.

The Phantom was unresponsive for a beat. Then, he leaped forward, kissed the corner of Shuichi's mouth and demanded, "Call me Kokichi."

"I can do that."

Without a moment's delay, Shuichi downed the contents of the glass vials. It went down like a block of ice. Shuichi watched Kokichi from the corner of his eyes, and the boy did the same.

"This won't be the last you'll see of me, you know," Kokichi commented.

"I'm not afraid."

Kokichi smiled, sharp teeth in his mouth and glitter at the corner of his eyes, with a mess of a hair that framed his innocent looking face.

"Good, I won't stop until I have your heart."

Shuichi chose not to reply. As he left Kokichi standing alone atop the table, too small among the too big furniture, Shuichi could finally feel the stab of sadness that came from the sight. 

[mythgirlimagines]

Now that Tuesday is here, I’ve got a brand new talentswap for the week! The ice to last week’s fire, it’s Myth, the Former Ultimate Ice Skater!

———-———————————————

BACKSTORY AND TALENT

Myth has been exposed to ice skating ever since she was little, which makes sense considering her parentage. Myth’s mother happened to be a famous figure skater and skating coach back in her home country of Ukraine, until she settled down and married Myth’s father, a fellow American ice skater. According to many critics, Myth’s ice skating style managed to pay homage to her mother’s ice skating style, while still providing her own unique spin on it. Her fanbase often refers to her as “Aurora Incarnate”, for her mysterious style and the main color scheme of her figure skating outfit. Winning plenty of international tournaments, as well as being a viral sensation was what earned Myth her application to Hope’s Peak. Even when she became a Former Ultimate, Myth still didn’t give up on her primary passion. 

——————————————————

RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate VS. Debater

Myth and Wyre have been best friends ever since childhood, and they’ve continued being friends even after becoming viral sensations in completely different domains. Myth occasionally guest stars on Wyre’s web series, “WHO SHALL CONQUER?!”, an edutainment web series about pitting historical and prehistorical powerhouses together, and debating about who would win.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Procrastinator

For someone with such a listless talent, Anon Scar, or as she calls herself, “The Timemaster”, has a flair for theatrics that could rival the many figure skaters throughout Myth’s 10+ year old career. Myth wonders how someone with so much energy in her performance could be so lazy in every other aspect of life, no matter how many times that Scar refers to it as “waiting for just the right time”.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Puzzle Solver

Fusion got famous by both being on and winning multiple puzzle game shows, in order to win the prize money for his family. Fusion and Myth quickly bonded and have a mutual respect for each other, having seen each other’s performances on TV multiple times. They also regularly exchange advice on how to chill their nerves for TV appearances.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Essayist

Fusion II and Myth have a bit of a neutral relationship, considering their contrasting domains. Fusion II can regularly be found hutched over her computer, typing out long essays at incredible speeds. Myth, at times, can’t help but be concerned for this girl’s sleep schedule, considering that she subsists off of coffee to get through the rest of the day, and dismisses people’s concern for her with sarcastic comments.

Just Anon, Ultimate Astronomer

A natural scientific prodigy, Janon can usually be found outdoors, on an air mattress and blanket and staring up at the night sky. Janon regularly claims that it is “research”, but to everybody else, he‘s just being lazy. Because of Janon’s cynical and apathetic attitude, Janon doesn‘t get along with anybody, let alone Myth. But hopefully, Myth can find a heart of gold, hidden within Janon’s moon bunny hoodie.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Romantic

Sparkle and Myth get along with each other very well. This can be attributed to their shared flair for theatrics and love for all things romantic. Myth is currently teaching Sparkle how to ice skate, allowing for some romantic moments to spark between them. Sparkle was thinking of performing ”THE SPECTACULAR SPARKLE MEETS AURORA INCARNATE (ON ICE)”, when she fully masters the art of ice skating.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Trivia Master, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Voice Actor

Despite what the duo’s innocuous talents would suggest, the Freak Twins are a presence to be feared at the Kibo-Con. Whether it‘s Wet Sock’s abrasive attitude and creepy voice, or Egg‘s flippant attitude and wide disposal of cursed trivia, very few Anons can actually tolerate the two’s presence. Even the chill Myth nervously excuses herself when this cursed duo enters the room and begin conversing with her.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Speedreader

Because of Curious’ obscurity outside of their hometown and their stoic and unflappable demeanor, very little is actually known about Curious. Myth very quickly bonded with Curious over their shared love of literature and their chill attitudes. However, you’d think that an avid reader of romantic novels would be quicker on the uptake when it comes to the rare affections of a certain cynical space geek.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Surgeon

Despite pursuing a talent in the medical field, Nerd‘s has a short temper, a rude and hostile attitude and a foul mouth. However, Myth’s mother didn’t raise a quitter, and no matter how many times Myth was threatened with a cyanide injection or an open-heart surgery without anaesthetic, Myth still continues to be an absolute and total flirt towards this high-strung medical prodigy, in hopes that Nerd would loosen up and just accept his feelings for Myth.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Personal Assistant

Despite Eldritch’s small size and frail build, Eldritch compensates for it by being quick and efficient with the various tasks assigned to him by others. Myth thinks that Eldritch would make a great speed skater and wishes to tutor the pint-sized secretary. However, Eldritch doesn’t seem to trust anyone or even anything, which is ironic given his talent. However, Myth will do whatever it takes to open up the heart of this paranoid personal assistant. 

Dream Anon, Ultimate Ornithologist

Having an interest in nature ever since she was little, this hyperactive and bouncy birdwatcher wishes to jump up and fly, just like the birds she loves so much. Dream likens Myth’s performances to a bird in flight, and Myth is definitely flattered by that comparison. Dream, like Sparkle, is also being given ice skating lessons by Myth, for which she takes like a duck to water, proving to be a natural at it very quickly.

 Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Conspiracy Theorist

Iris, despite what her talent would suggest, is very energetic and optimistic. Most of Iris’s conspiracy theories revolve around the possibilities of alien life living among us, which she uses as an excuse to treat everyone as a friend, even people like Janon and the Freak Twins. Following in the lead of Dream and Sparkle, Iris also attempted to ice skate. However, unlike with Dream, the continuous lessons have merely resulted in a bruised behind and legs, but she is still learning and trying her best, and Myth can’t fault her for that.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Palaeontologist

Despite her timid personality and complex vocabulary, Purple Anon’s academic journals are heavily respected by various academic circles. Myth actually recognises Purple from her occasional guest-appearances on Wyre’s debate channel, offering Wyre knowledge on the capabilities of dinosaurs and other prehistoric life. Apart from Wyre, the only other person that Purple really talks to is Fusion, her translator and psuedo-bodyguard. Most of Myth’s information about Purple comes from either Wyre or Fusion.

This series mostly revolves around these two BFFs and viral sensations meeting up with other viral sensations.

——————————————————

APPEARANCE 

IceSkater!Myth wears a figure-skating dress with a pink to purple to blue gradient as you go down, which is how she got the nickname of “Aurora Incarnate��. Over that, she wears a grey hooded jacket with the same-collared gradient as her dress on each sleeve. Her jacket also has snowflake drawstrings and a bi pride badge on her right lapel. On her feet, she wears grey stockings and white sneakers with a rainbow-gradient tongue and sole. She wears her purple-dyed hair in a smooth ponytail, held in place by a light blue scrunchie with a snowflake clip. She keeps her glasses from the original design.

——————————————————

PERSONALITY

Myth has what could best be described as a ”gap moe” personality. On the rink and in front of an audience, IceSkater!Myth is cool, calm and collected, able to pull off the most complex moves with ease. Off of the rink  and behind the scenes however, IceSkater!Myth is a massive dork, with an equally massive teasy side. IceSkater!Myth is also very determined. If she doesn’t perfect a move on the first try, she’ll spend all night at the rink perfecting the move. IceSkater!Myth is also happy to teach her underclassmen all about ice skating if they wanted to try it. She is patient as well, making her the perfect instructor for inexperienced skaters.  ——————————————————

Yeah, I knew it was about time that I did a talentswap with the Anon KG talents, so I’ve chosen Ice Skater for this week’s talentswap! I’ve partially based IceSkater!Myth’s mom and dad off of Viktor and Yuuri from Yuri On Ice, respectively. Let me hear your thoughts on the AU, if you have any!

-Fusion Anon

—

This is so freaking cool, I think in another life I would’ve been an ice skater! Or, at least, I like to think I would be ^^’ meanwhile my dad is the only one in my fam who actually knows how to skate lol

[gruvia4ever0910]

My Miss Independent

CHAPTER 1: HEARTBREAKS

It is cold evening at the month of May, but the job of a fireman still continues. A group of a firefighters are trying their best to eliminate the fire that is spreading around the tall building. A man with a pink-colored hair named Natsu, who is the leader is ordering some men to focus on the entrance, so that a rescue team can go inside and look for some casualties.

There are two groups of the rescue team, Natsu is included. They enter the building with a complete gear, and he is instructing his team with their tasks then they all went to their assigned floor. Natsu is heading to the fifth floor with the other two firemen; their names are Loke and Gajeel. They are using the stairs since the elevator is impossible to use.

As they open the emergency door and starts searching the area, they see a middle old woman and a young boy, and both are hiding under the table.

Natsu: Let's go! Gajeel take the woman and you Loke take the boy…

Both: Yes Captain!

Natsu: I'll search for more casualties…

Gajeel and Loke walk towards to the two persons who needs assistance. They carry them and went back to the door. Natsu didn't find any more casualties in the room, so he follows Loke and Gajeel then walks out from the room.

They succeeded to rescue more people and after three hours the fire finally disappeared. There is no news of loss of human lives, just some injuries and Natsu and the other firemen are grateful for that.

***

Back to the station, Natsu is in the locker room removing his uniform; with a clear view of Natsu's body he is a lean, muscular young man of average height with a slightly tan skin tone. Then a man with black-colored hair, toned skin and muscular as well, named Gray appears then went to his given locker.

Gray: That was a great rescue…

Natsu: Yeah, it was…

Gray is also a captain like Natsu, but he is in a different group. Natsu is the captain of Group "A" and Gray is the captain of Group "B". Their groups were the one that was assigned from earlier incident. They are good friends. They knew each other since college, and they trained together to be a fireman.

Gray: You seems to be in a good mood…

Natsu: (smiling) Oh yeah… I'll be seeing Lisanna tonight…

Gray: Oh, I see…

Natsu: How about you? It is Sunday. Supposedly, it's your day-off. No date with your girl that you have no intention of introducing to us.

Gray: (smirks) Not anymore…

Natsu closes his locker then confusingly looks at Gray.

Gray: We broke up 2 days ago…

Natsu: Who let go? You or her?

Gray: For the first time in my life, it was a girl who broke up with me…

Natsu knew Gray when it comes to girls. Gray never took a relationship seriously and Natsu is always lecturing him about it.

Natsu: What, she found you cheating? (Gray laughs) I'll take that as a yes. You never learn Gray (pats Gray's shoulder). You are my best friend, but you need to change…

Natsu walks past him.

Natsu: I'll see you tomorrow… (left the locker room)

***

2 days ago.

A girl with a azure blue wavy hair, a snow skin complexion, and with a two beautiful midnight blue eyes; named Juvia was hiding behind a big and thick tree together with her best friend that has a mid-back length brown hair, with flawless tanned skin, and has a large brown eyes; her name is Cana.

Juvia: Cana, what are we doing here? I didn’t come here to hide behind this tree… (irritated)

Cana: You will know soon, just relax, will you? I did not force you to come here without a reason…

Juvia glanced at her friend and just rested her back on the tree. After a few minutes, Cana suddenly hit Juvia's shoulder and it surprised her.

Juvia: What?!

Cana: Show time (pointing her finger at the bench that was 20 meters away from where they were hiding) …

Juvia looked at where Cana was pointing her finger and she gasped with her eyes wide open. She was seeing a man who happened to be her boyfriend and he was with pale-skinned woman, dark purple hair, and brown eyes. They were so intimate; the man was stealing kisses from the girl.

Cana looked at Juvia and it may be hard for her to see her friend hurting, it was the only way for Juvia to believe her that her boyfriend was cheating on her.

Cana: I'm sorry for letting you see this, but it is the only option for you to believe me…

Juvia: (sighed) It's okay… I'm sorry if I didn't believe you before… (stood up straight then composed herself) Let's go, Cana. I still need to return to the restaurant…

Cana: But, what about them?

Juvia: (faced Cana) I don’t want you to be involved in this. I can deal with him later…

Cana: Are you sure?

Juvia: Yes… (walked away)

Back in her apartment, Juvia was sitting on the sofa with a laptop on her lap. Then her doorbell rang, she stood up then checks the small monitor and she saw the person she doesn't want to see anymore. She was just staring at the monitor and took a couple of minutes to open the door

Juvia greeted Gray with an emotionless expression, but he chose not to give it any attention. He went inside then leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek, but Juvia stopped him by pushing him lightly.

Gray: (frowned) What's the matter?

Juvia: (still with her poker face then sighed) You are no longer allowed to go here…

Gray: (smiled) What are you talking about?

He was trying to get close to her, but she was dodging his hands and it was making him annoyed.

Gray: Juvia…?!

Juvia: I saw you!

Gray: Saw me? What do you mean?

Juvia: Oh, please Gray! Stop denying it already! I saw you earlier at the park near where you work, and I was with Cana. You were with a girl and both of you were kissing each other and that was enough proof for me.

Gray can’t look at Juvia, and it was obvious that he was feeling guilty.

Juvia: You need to go, and I already packed your stuffs…

Juvia crossed her arms and just looking at him fiercely then Gray glanced at the bag near the door then back at Juvia.

Gray: Juvia, please… (walked towards her)

Juvia: (stepped backwards) Don’t touch me… I should've believed Cana before when she first saw you, but I chose not to because I trust you… But after what I saw, it's over now. So, please leave my apartment this instant.

Gray knew that Juvia doesn’t want to talk anymore, because when she sets her mind, it is final, and no one will change that. He nodded, then picked the bag, opened the door, took a last glanced at Juvia then left the apartment.

When Gray was gone, Juvia fell on the ground. She released the tension she was feeling and let go of the tears she's been holding a while ago. She tried to compose herself in front of him, but when he left, she just had to let all the emotions she's been hiding.

***

Natsu just parked his car in the parking area of the restaurant called, Lluvia. It is small, but a well-known restaurant in Magnolia and it is towns favorite. The restaurant opened a year ago, and it bloomed quickly because of its delicious meal, very cozy, the ambiance is pleasant, and most importantly; a friendly staff, including the owner itself.

Natsu opens the door of the restaurant and the staffs immediately greeting him. He smiles at them then immediately spots his girlfriend. He waves at her and she just gives him a half-smile. He kisses her on her cheek then sits on the chair in front of her.

Natsu: I have got to admit, this is a really nice restaurant…

The girl just smiles again, and she is avoiding his eyes. He then senses that something is wrong.

Natsu: Lisanna, are you okay?

Lisanna: Uhm, yes. Why don’t we order first?

Natsu: Hmm, sure. I'm already starving…

Lisanna calls the waiter then when they are done ordering, they look back at each other.

Lisanna: So, how’s work?

Natsu: (grins) Earlier, we had another fire incident. Luckily, no one died and just a few people who got injured. How about yours?

When Lisanna is about to answer Natsu, a sudden noise interrupted them. Not only them, but the whole customers in the restaurant. When Natsu turns around, he saw a woman customer just slaps the girl waiter.

Woman: Are you blind?! Look what you have done! My dress is ruined!

Girl waiter: I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn’t mean to ---

Woman: I don't care! How are you going to compensate me! Where is your manager?!

A woman with long white hair, with large blue eyes, and curvy body named Mira approaches the woman who is causing the disturbance calmly. Natsu recognizes the woman with long white hair and he looks back at Lisanna who gives him another half-smile.

Mira: Hello, ma'am. My name is Mira and I am the manager…

Woman: Great. Now, I need my money back. (pointing a finger at the waiter and Mira) This dumb waiter of yours spilled the drinks on me!

Waiter: (Mira looks at the waiter) I swear Manager, it is not my fault. Someone tripped me…

Woman: Really? You are defending yourself?

All the attention is with them, even Natsu is curious of what will happen next even if their foods are already been served. The manager is talking calmly with the woman, but the noisemaker is not making it easy for them.

Then suddenly, a woman with a slender curvaceous figure and blue wavy hair passes by Natsu's table. His eyes follow the woman and she stop beside the white-hair woman.

Mira: Juvia…

Woman: And who are you? Are you going to solve what is happening here?

Juvia: As a matter of fact, I do ma'am…

Woman: How?!

Juvia: You don’t need to shout, ma'am. Can we please talk in my office, so we can't disturb other customers…?

Woman: And why would I follow you? You need to fire this waiter of yours! And you didn't answer my question. Who are you?

Juvia: (smiles) I am the owner of this restaurant, ma'am. Juvia is my name. There are surveillance cameras here, so we can check what really happened and I can decide from there…

Woman: I am not going with you…

Juvia: (sighs) Alright, if you don’t want to, I'm not going to force you… (the woman smirks)

Woman: Compensate me then I'll leave…

Even if Natsu is not part of the commotion, he is getting pissed of the woman. He thinks that the blunette is handling the situation very well and he can't help but smile.

Juvia: I am afraid I can’t do that, ma'am. (Juvia faces at Mira) Can you please get my tablet in my office…

Mira: Of course.

Mira hurriedly went to Juvia's office and just a few minutes she came back with the tablet. Juvia took the tablet and began watching the footage then shows it to the woman.

20 minutes earlier, actually Juvia already saw what happened. She was watching it from her computer. Since Mira approached the scene, she waited but when she saw that the woman was pointing her finger to the waiter and Mira, she decided that it was time to step in.

Juvia: It is very clear ma'am that you were the one who tripped my staff on purpose and it just happened that she spilled the drinks in your direction. I am not permitting anyone to insult my staffs, especially if it is not their fault and you are no longer allowed to set foot in my restaurant. That is your compensation…

The woman is now being cornered and because the evidence is clear, Juvia did make a fair decision. The customers awed with what Juvia did to the customer and with her staff and a certain pink-haired man is also amazed.

***

It is now back to normal, Natsu and Lisanna are done eating their meal, but Lisanna is now feeling uneasy and it is bothering Natsu.

Natsu: Lisanna, are you alright? I've been observing you and you look like you want to say something to me. (Lisanna stares nervously at him) What is it?

Lisanna: Natsu… (biting her lower lip)

Natsu: Tell me…

Lisanna: (releases a big sigh) Let's break up…

Natsu is confused for a second, he is just looking at Lisanna.

Natsu: What did you just say?

Lisanna: (her expression became firm) I said, let's break up. I don’t love you anymore Natsu…

Natsu: W-w-wait… Lisanna, you can't be serious…

Lisanna: I am… I found someone and I love him… He can provide more for me…

Natsu: What do you mean? I can also provide for you…

Lisanna: It is not enough, Natsu… I want my life (rolls her eyes) --- I don’t need to explain it to you. I need more Natsu and you can't give me that (stands up) … I'm sorry, but we are over…

Lisanna left the restaurant, leaving Natsu alone with an unclear reason. He can’t believe what just happened. "She wants more. She needs more.". He thought. The girl he loves the most and willing to do everything for her just left him.

***

3 months later…

The room is filled with fire fighters and there is an old man who is standing in front of them and explaining some details to them. Makarov Dreyar, the Fire Chief of Magnolia Fire Station.

While Makarov is still talking, he notices that one person is not paying attention. He calls his name, but he didn’t get any answer and he keep on calling this person’s name.

Loke: Natsu…

No response again, Loke punches Natsu's shoulder really hard and finally Natsu is back in his senses.

Natsu: (stares at Loke with a frown on his face) What was that for?!

Loke: Chief's been calling you…

Natsu looks at their Chief who has a serious glare.

Makarov: Everything okay, child?

Natsu: (clears his throat) Yes, I'm sorry…

Makarov: As I was saying --- (he continues to explain some details to the fire fighters)

Inside the locker room, Natsu is just sitting then he receives a smack on his head. When he looks up, a tall and muscular man with a blonde hair and has a lightning bolt scar on his right eye is looking at him with an angry stare.

Natsu: Laxus! Can anyone of you stop hitting me!

Laxus: What is your problem?

Loke: Yeah man. What happened to you? You've been really distracted these past months…

Natsu didn’t answer the questions that's been throwing at him, instead he just looks down on the ground.

Laxus: Look Natsu (his arms are crossed), as your group's Deputy Chief, I want you to focus… I don’t want to see anymore flaws in our next mission. You've been making a lot of mistakes and I don’t need that, especially if saving lives is our job…

Natsu: I'm sorry… It will never happen again…

Laxus: I'm counting on that… (walks away)

Natsu stands up then walk towards his locker, he opens it and his eyes falls on Lisanna's picture. He remembers the day when Lisanna broke up with him and he sighs.

Gray: You need to forget her, flamebrain… It's been 3 months…

Natsu: (smirks) Easy for you to say. Oh yeah, it is easy for you because you are good at that…

Gray groan angrily at Natsu, but Loke stands between them.

Loke: Relax both of you…

Loke pushes Gray slightly, telling him to leave Natsu alone and he did. He pats Natsu's shoulder then also gives Natsu a space. Loke is also a close friend of Natsu, they became really close when they were placed on the same team.

On the other side of the room, another tall man (not as tall as Laxus) with a long black hair, has red eyes with no eyebrows, and has tan-skinned is just watching them then give them his unique way of laughing, "Gihihi".

Loke: What are you laughing at Gajeel?!

Gajeel: All of you has problem with girls…

Loke: (smirks then roll his eyes) As if you don’t have one!

Natsu closes his locker holding his phone, then sits beside Loke.

Natsu: Oh yeah, metal head. You think we don’t know? You've been eyeing one of our Inspectors, the petite blunette… (smiles)

Loke: Oh man, Natsu's right…  (faces Gajeel) So? No progress?

Gajeel: I don’t know what you are talking about.

Gajeel pouts, closes his locker with a little of force then left them. Natsu and Loke laughs with their friend child act. When Gajeel is gone, Loke faces Natsu with a serious look on his face.

Loke: Natsu…

Natsu: Hmm…?

Loke: This is off the topic, but why don’t you try to date someone again? Or maybe do a blind date?

Natsu: (soft laughs) A blind date? I don’t know man. I'm not into that kind of thing…

Loke: There is no harm in trying… Lucy told me that she has a friend who is also single and really pretty… I’ll talk to Lucy so she can set the two of you…

Natsu: I'm okay, Loke…

Loke: No, you are not… I can see that… Ever since Lisanna left you, you were acting different… You are supposed to be fun, energetic, and always smiling, but I cannot see that anymore…

Natsu: How is Lucy? I haven’t seen her in a while…

Loke: Don’t change the subject, but she is fine… We are doing pretty well… (smiling shyly while rubbing the back of his head, he is also blushing)

Natsu: (half-smiles) Good for you…

Loke: So, what do you say?

Natsu: I don’t know… (stands up) I'll think about it…

Loke: Yosh! I'll tell Lucy…

 ***

It is a great afternoon, but Juvia just wants to remain in their apartment. Juvia and her best friend Lucy are sharing an apartment. She moved out from her previous apartment 2 months ago and when Lucy was looking for a new apartment, they decided to look and live together.

Lucy is working in Heartifilia Publishing Company as an editor-in-chief, and it is owned by her family. Yes, she is rich.

Juvia and Lucy has a different family background. Lucy came from a wealthy family, but she chose to be simple and not live with a silver spoon in her mouth. Her mom died when she was still a kid due to an illness while her dad is focused more on their family businesses. When her mom died, her father stopped giving her attention, she was raised by her nanny. When she reached the right age, she decided to leave their mansion and find a work on her own, her father agreed of her leaving the mansion, but he gave her a condition of working in one of their businesses and she chose the publishing company because it is always been Lucy's dream to become a writer.

While Juvia was raised in the orphanage, she didn’t know her biological parents. She was adopted at the age of ten and her adoptive parents were sent by angel's. They treated Juvia as their own and they really loved her. A car accident happened, and it killed both of her adoptive parents. In the age of 15, it was the start of her life to be on her own, but her adoptive parents did not leave her with nothing. They gave her quite enough funds and she used some for her education, tried different jobs to earn more money, and she worked hard to pursue her dream.

Juvia and Lucy were in the same university and they met because of a friend. Then they started to be more comfortable with each other and became close friends.

Juvia just got out from the bathroom near her room and she is only wearing a towel and it is still showing her curvaceous shape. When she enters her room, Lucy is sitting on her bed with a bright smile on her face.

Juvia: (raises one brow) I know that smile. What now?

Lucy: (stands excitedly) Well, I talked to Loke earlier and he said that his friend agreed to do a blind date…

Juvia: Okay…? Why are you telling me this?

Lucy: (holds both if Juvia's hand) Because you are going to be his blind date…

Juvia: What?! Lucy…! You know that I'm not into that kind of thing…

Lucy: (laughs) That what Natsu told Loke too…

Juvia: Natsu? So, you know him?

Lucy: Well, yes…

Juvia: Okay, wait. Can we talk about this later and let me put some clothes first…?

Lucy: Oh yeah… Okay, I'll wait for you outside… (she went out from Juvia's room while humming)

Few minutes later, Juvia comes out from her room and she sees Lucy sitting on the sofa while watching her favorite program on the television. Lucy pats the sofa, telling Juvia to sit beside her. Juvia rolls her eyes, but still sits beside Lucy.

Lucy: So, do you agree?

Juvia: No, I don’t have time for that (focuses on the tv) …

Lucy: Oh, come on, Juvia. It's been three months; you need to move on…

Juvia: (faces Lucy) I already moved on. It is just that I'm busy with the restaurant…

Lucy: You're busy, but you are here?

Juvia: It’s my day off…

Lucy: But still…

Juvia: And how do you know this guy?

Lucy: He was my classmate in high school, we are good friends and it just happened that Loke and Natsu has the same job…

Juvia: (stares at Lucy with a questioning look) He is also a fire fighter?

Lucy gasps when realized that Juvia's ex-boyfriend is also a fire fighter.

Lucy: Do you think they knew each other?

Juvia: Possibly, you mentioned that Loke is in Magnolia Fire Station, right? (Lucy nods) Gray is there as well…

Lucy: So, his name is Gray… Well, you never mentioned anything about this ex-boyfriend of yours; except that you two broke up…

Juvia: You also did the same with this Loke…

Lucy: You know that I'm not introducing the guys that I'm seeing unless it is serious, and I don't know anything about this Gray as well…

Juvia: Because he was busy playing with someone else… (suddenly frown) Wait, so this thing between you and Loke…

Lucy: About that, (smiles) I think this time is serious and I am going to introduce him to you, I swear…

Juvia just smiles then she stands up, walk towards the kitchen and Lucy follows her.

Lucy: Juvia…?

Juvia: (sighs) I don’t know…

Lucy: Natsu is a good guy. He is one of the sweetest men I've ever met…

Juvia: Are you sure that you and this guy never dated?

Lucy: (eyes widen) No, (shaking her head) we never did. He is my friend, but he is not my type…

Juvia: Lucy…

Lucy: Just try it… If you and Natsu didn't worked out pretty well, I will never force you to go on a blind date again…

Juvia: Are you forcing me because he is your friend?

Lucy: Yes, and I'm sure he will treat you well… He is a fire fighter, he saves lives…

Juvia: (sits on the dining chair) Are you forgetting that the last guy that I dated is also a fire fighter and he cheated on me…

Lucy: (smacks Juvia's shoulder) Natsu is different… Maybe he is the fire fighter that is meant for you…

Juvia: I don’t know about that, but (sighs) fine…

Lucy: (gasps) Really? (shaking Juvia's shoulder)

Juvia: Yes, stop shaking me, but only this time…

Lucy: Sure, sure. Oh mavis! I'm going to call Loke now…

Lucy excitedly jumps from the chair then went to her room.