#messy sketch I didn’t bother rendering too much

[jin-enjoji]

he’s mid but i like him

[kyberphilosopher]

Dᴏꜱᴄᴇɴᴅᴏ Dɪꜱᴄɪᴍᴜꜱ

The reader tries to paint the Colossal Titan from memory, and Bertholdt seems to know more than most people. 

Requested: no.

Word Count: 2092

Docendo Discimus is a Latin proverb meaning "by teaching, we learn." It is perhaps derived from Seneca the Younger, who says in his Letters to Lucilius: Homines dum docent discunt., meaning "Men learn when they teach”.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The human body is home to somewhere between six hundred and eight hundred muscles. There are two hundred and six bones, seventy-eight organs, one hundred thousand miles of veins, and roughly ten pints of blood. Every individual cell has a purpose, important and needed for the body to continue to function. 

Assuming the anatomy of a titan was the same to that of the average person’s, the Colossal Titan should be easier to render than this. You’d sketched the face of muscle and teeth over a hundred times by this point, and each one of them seemed to draw further away from realism than you liked. 

Sure, it was arguable that the Colossal just didn’t have the same anatomy in his face as the average human. But then there should’ve been more factors in his face that shouldn’t have worked. 

For example, the monster didn’t possess a muscle called the orbicularis. You could remember that specifically from the time you and your fellow cadets had gotten a bit too close for comfort. But based on the lack of orbicularis, he shouldn’t have been able to blink. And yet, he had. There was also a strange muscle in his temporal region with horizontal fibers, that couldn’t have simply been his temporal. It doesn't seem to have any particular function, either. 

God damn it. It’s appearance should’ve been the one thing about this bastard to make sense, but instead it had confused you just as much as the rest of it. Never mind how smart you were. If you couldn’t solve this simple turned complex mystery, why hold out hope for studying anatomy when the world would return to normalcy?

In your frustration, you slam the paintbrush back into your cup of water. A stain of red clouds erupts in the liquid at once, angry from how direct the solid hits the surface. In front of you, the canvas shines with the new layer of red paint. Beside it is a coat of salmon, also fresh and lined with the titan’s muscles. 

“So stupid,” you hiss, half to yourself. You grab your cadet corps jacket, shrugging it on swiftly before crossing your arms and stepping back. 

It was supposed to be a gift for Eren. He knew you were something of a painter and had once jokingly asked you to make a dart board for him. The moment you conceived this idea, you knew it had to be a stroke of genius. But you wanted to get it right, and for that, the artist and realist inside of you seemed to be punished for it.

Was it something with the eyes? No, it was definitely the anatomy of the titan overall. “For fucks sake,” you wave off finally, turning on your heel to walk away for a while. But when you turn around, you’re face to chest with one so broad you nearly stumble back. 

The figure tenses up immediately. You tilt your head up to see who it is, recognizing the nervous, kaleidoscope eyes of your comrade. Bertholdt, you’re sure his name is. You haven’t talked too many times, but you’ve seen him in your circle of friends. There’s a memory in your brain of asking your bunkmate, Annie, about why Bertholdt would hang around someone so upstanding and obnoxious as Reiner, but you can’t recall her specific answer. 

“O-oh, Y/N!” Bertholdt nearly wheezes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stand so close.”

“It’s fine,” you mutter, rubbing the side of your head as you step away. “What are you doing here?”

Yes, what was he doing here? A little closeted off room by the girl barracks? And aside from that, how does someone as tall as he even sneak his way inside? It’s suspicious, to say the least. 

“I was just-” Bertholdt stares down at you, sweat already beginning to form on his face. Oh, goddess. How is he to get out of this one? If Reiner was with him, he could just lie his way out of it. But now, looking down at your apathetic, borderline tired, frustrated face, he knows he’s never had much luck with girls. Especially not pretty girls like you. 

His gaze shifts to behind you. There, on a perfectly square parchment of thick paper, is a rough sketch of a long face without any skin. It seems to be all muscle, labeled and detailed. Half the sheet is colored in with pinks, browns, and scarlets, with the other half marked with insane little scribbled patterns that remind him of words. 

You’re still waiting for an answer. He sees your steady, patient eyes and your balled fists by your hips, and Bertholdt wonders if you already know. “I saw you bring in those cans of paint, and I guess I got curious.”

“Oh,” you reply flatly. “Yeah. That.”

“It’s um...” Compliment her. Compliment her painting. “It’s a nice painting. What’s it supposed to be of?”

“The Colossal Titan,” you tell him as you rub the back of your neck. Then you turn on your side so you can view your art, immediately narrowing your eyes in disgust at it. “It’s not my best.”

Bertholdt’s words come out a bit louder than he intended. “Actually, I think it’s really, really great, Y/N!”

You turn back to meet Bertholdt’s nervous, almost quivering eyes. You certainly wouldn’t call yourself an expert on the male gender, but this tall bastard was exactly the stereotype of someone who wasn’t an expert on the female gender. It was almost funny. No, it was almost ironic. 

“I just mean that... it’s really good. It’s easy to see that you have heaps of talent,” the brunette reiterates, seemingly calmer this time.

What a nice thing to say to someone. 

“That’s not really my point though,” you borderline sigh. “The point is that no matter what I seem to do to him, it doesn’t seem realistic does it?”

“What do you mean by that?” Bertholdt questions, his eyebrows furrowing. That’s right, he wouldn’t be able to squint without his orbicularis. Something your art model was currently lacking. 

Do you even bother to explain it to him? It’s not like either of you are close, or like he’d exactly understand what you were saying to him anyway. But where was the harm, really?

You walk back towards the parchment, with Bertholdt just a few steps behind. 

“See this area?” you ask, gesturing to the Colossal Titan’s eye area. “There's a muscle here that’s supposed to let people close their eyes. But the colossal titan doesn’t have that.”

“W-why is that?”

You shrug. “Damned if I know. But doesn’t it look wrong on him?”

Bertholdt observes the painting. He sees all the details, all the time you’ve put into it. While you are right about the image and the titan’s strange features, it’s now that Bertholdt realizes just how intelligent you really are. Unlike other people, you actually knew things. If he were an enemy, he might be starting to feel threatened right about now. Ironic indeed. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” the boy says shyly. “Why does it have to be perfect, though?”

Good question. 

“No real reason,” you tell him, trying to hide the hint of smile. “I guess it’s just how it is. Eren is the one who asked for this.”

“O-oh... you mean like a...”

Your eyes flit back to Bertholdt. “Like a what?”

Bertholdt can feel the sullen wave of anxiety wash over him. He hadn’t meant to let the stray thoughts fall from his lips, but now he can’t take it back. Now what does he say? “I just mean, is it a gift or something like that?”

“Sure.”

Were you and Eren...?

“I might be able to help you with it,” Bertholdt stutters, again, louder than he’d intended. He’s lucky at least one of you is level headed during this interaction. 

“How so? Do you paint?” 

“No, but I think I might know some things about the Colossal that you don’t,” Bertholdt offers. His right arm reaches behind to rub at his sweaty neck. In that instant, you can see that the boy has an almost identical structure to that of your subject. You’d have to note that the tall boy would make a brilliant model for something like this.

“Like what?” you question. “Could you give me some feedback on my piece then?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. You were going to find out. 

Bertholdt pretends to be in deep thought for a minute, knitting his dark eyebrows together. His green, blue eyes sweep over the picture, watching the slick settle. “Well, you’re right about the muscle around the eye. I’d take that out, but maybe place the shadow of it?”

“The shadow?”

“The outline. And maybe make his eyes more glossy than this. Titan’s have a second set of eyelids.”

You don’t have time to question him further. Bertholdt continues the onslaught of information. 

“I think you should also make some of these areas here a bit lighter,” he says, pointing to the side of the Colossal’s face. “From the steam and the high body temperature, it would get a bit smoky.”

“Yeah,” you begin slowly, watching the shine in Bertholdt’s previously nervous eyes. “I hadn’t considered that.”

The lanky male in front of you lets his lips curl into a sheepish smile, closing his eyes as his fingers thread themselves between his hair. “I doubt most people do, so you’re not really in the wrong.”

“How do you know so much?” you ask. “You’ve been quiet with everyone up until now. Do the higher ups even know all this?”

“I mean, they’d have to right? I guess I just took a lot of notes in class.”

You hadn’t remembered your professor mentioning most of these things during your Titan Studies period. But maybe it wasn’t really worth questioning him over. Maybe Bertholdt was just more observant than you had ever really considered. It wouldn’t have been the first time. 

Your eyes are fixated on him. Bertholdt was kind of cute, actually. His eyes are both big and slim, with pale green orbs. His skin was always a bit illuminated with a nervous sweat, and he was incredibly mild mannered. But maybe that was actually a good thing compared to all the boys in camp who seemed to lack any conception of manners. Pouty, chapped lips, a gentle smile, messy dark hair. He seems like someone reliable. Kind. Trustworthy.

“Yeah,” you say again, breaking eye contact. “So, are there any other suggestions you have for me?”

Bertholdt is still for a moment, thinking it over. “No, other than don’t think so hard about it, probably.”

“You two sort of have a similar face,” you say, staring at the muscled beast you’d attempted to replicate. “Maybe you should pose for me sometime.”

Bertholdt tenses. 

“I’m only joking,” you assure. Bertholdt’s broad shoulders fall as he relaxes, and a soft exhale leaves from between his lips. “But I would like it if you’d let me model after you.”

“Me?” Bertholdt stutters, shocked. “You mean you’d want to really paint me?”

“‘Course,” you say, nonchalant as always. “You’ve got one of those faces.”

Bertholdt smiles naturally. Soft, but noticeable. You return it after a few seconds, feeling your previous frustration and anger at the piece begin to wander away. 

“I should get back to work,” you say as you turn around. Bertholdt watches you unclip the parchment from your sturdy easel, place it on the stone floor, and grab another paper from a pile. 

“Y-you’re starting again?”

“Of course,” you say. Your dominant hand laces around a piece of charcoal, preparing to drag it across the page. In one swift and scratchy motion, an onyx line appears at the top of the paper. 

Bertholdt’s cheeks dust pink from behind you. He’s about to offer if you want him to pose for you so you can memorize what’s underneath his shy skin, but he stays quiet. Instead, Bertholdt is happy that he even got to speak to you in the first place. He wanders out of the room with butterflies in his stomach, and guilt in his heart. 

And you, with your eyes narrow, basing the monster that ruined your life off the boy who had just helped you. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I didn’t proof read this. I feel like I’ve just been cranking stuff out lately. someone remind me to go back and edit thank you

[fannishcodex]

So I love @revasnaslan 's Where One Fell Verse, a SPOP AU. :D (Will add a link to the fic series in a comment or reblog below after remembering that tumblr sometimes has issues with embedded links, I think.)

Like, I really love it a lot, it borders on self-conscious "am I being too much, will this for some reason bother the fic writer??" And really, I’ve realized, no way, it won’t, especially since I write fic too and know I would be delighted if my fic got that reaction; but I think this may be more part of my self-consciousness and shyness. In any case, my affection for these fics is on hyperfixation level. I'm in the WOF Verse fandom. It's a thing I've been thinking about in some way since I found it late last year via @cirusthecitrus, it's one of the things that cheers me up these days. I struggle to articulate my pleasure with this fic, but I want to try to do it more.

This fic is a wonderfully character-driven story.

Fic spoilers under the cut, so recommend reading Where One Fell (fic 1) and Everything But A Door (fic 2) before this--and also, just, this fic has my deepest rec and everyone should check it out:

But, another different note first, even more self-conscious on my part: me writing about this fic more feels long overdue, but I really do struggle to sometimes articulate even my positive feelings about a thing because I want to get it across well--but I'm trying to more just spill it out now instead of trying to refine it more; and just also other things have been...a lot, there's been a lot (good and less good) that's pulled my attention in other directions too. So, long overdue, I wish I could've done more earlier, but I still just want to...gush about the fic; but I get self-conscious and worry about, like, "I don't want to end up pestering/pressuring and asking for immediate gratification for a new chapter/I don't want to guilt-trip for an update especially since I feel like I understand because I write fic too and I write slow and it's hard"...but I still want to gush about WOF verse, especially since it's like any other story I enjoy. I like gushing about the stories I enjoy.

So, again, this fic is wonderfully character-driven, which I love.

I'll bring up some canon for obvious reasons, but mostly in terms of contrast. One of the ways WOF Verse felt refreshing and drew me in was that after SPOP canon--well, in some ways SPOP canon feels like a wasted ensemble show; like many other things SPOP doesn't pull off, it doesn't pull off an ensemble show (especially when it ends up sidelining a bunch of characters that should've been prioritized more instead of a very mishandled character), and it kinda feels like it ends up having too many characters/like it starts feeling like too many characters if some are sort of just there and not really used (and I have my thoughts on who should've been prioritized, but that's another post; though granted I think my interest in this fic really indicates some of the characters I would've prioritized more).

So, I enjoyed how WOF Verse focuses on a smaller cast, giving them more attention and exploring them more. The general summary of the fic immediately drew me in, because I'm a sucker for family themes and dysfunctional families and familial love getting messy and complicated in fiction, and I hadn't realized I needed clone Hordak and his genetic template/progenitor Horde Prime shifted to them being literally brothers, plus the added twist of having Horde Prime actually care for his brother, but Prime's become thoroughly twisted in how he shows that affection and protectiveness--didn't know I needed that until I found this fic. And oh do I enjoy how this fic opened up the original '80s She-Ra/MOTU up to me more, because I just thought "wow, Hec-Tor Kur is a good made-up alt name/'real-ish' name with a last name for Hordak in this AU, and Anillis Kur just sounds cool and it just feels like it fits as an alt name/real name for Horde Prime when he's not always using that title," and I thought making them literally blood brothers was just a neat twist on them being clone and genetic template/progenitor. But nope, apparently Hec-Tor Kur and Anillis Kur are their real alt names from the original '80s canon which also heavily implies they're brothers, and that's really cool. (And I think it would've been really interesting if spop/the latest reboot had actually just explored that more, explored them more as brothers and siblings.)

Again, WOF is very character-driven, and I love that. And I enjoy how this feels like it also fits the story and world of the fic, which involves Anillis Kur/Horde Prime going into Extremely Overprotective Brother Mode and confining his sickly younger brother Hec-Tor (Hordak) to the Velvet Glove because he's that paranoid about anything happening to his brother due to a lot of family trauma that happened before Hec-Tor was even born/when he was just a baby (and baby Hec-Tor himself almost succumbing to illness and dying did not help with Anillis's issues), not to mention that controlling; so much of the fic so far is in a closed world, it adds to the hyper focus on the characters in that closed world. I appreciate how at times the fic really does have this claustrophobic feeling. I like how it sometimes makes me think of like a one-setting/limited setting play on a multi-chapter scale.

And of course, I like the specific characters getting this sort of hyper focus, and WOF makes me enjoy them even more. I love Hordak, his character, his voice, his design, etc. Horde Prime also has such a cool design and again that same cool voice, I adore Keston John's voice acting and his range in it. Canon S5 doesn't give him enough internal depth or character though, and ultimately makes him too much of just an obstacle and symbol/too much of a plot device in the show and a wasted opportunity for a more interesting character. That becomes even more apparent in contrast to WOF Verse, because Anillis Kur/Horde Prime is so much more interesting!!! Like Anillis/WOF!Prime is so much more interesting, it makes me realize how canon Prime is lacking in character/interest.

Ohman, this Prime. Prime has a great design and a great voice, and WOF has an interesting personality to match those elements in quality. There's so much fascinating contrast with him in WOF, and it makes him feel like a more unsettling villain. We've seen him care, and so it feels more frightening when he turns more aggressive and ruthless and cold. WOF's opening scene really effectively sets that contrast with him; it starts with him exhausted but having a really sweet moment with a very young Hec-Tor, and then not long after that when Hec-Tor's asleep in his arms it's a very unsettling mood whiplash with how Anillis coldly treats the clone attendant; it's even very effectively distilled and crystalized even further with the image of Anillis holding a sleeping Hec-Tor in his arms while glaring daggers at the clone attendant, that contrast of love and threat. Like, definitely a character that can do Both and I love that. And contrast adds layers to Anillis, it renders him in even more emotional dimensions, he can be multiple things at once.

And I rather love that he's far less...touchy, with everyone; it more finally struck me that he's rarely negatively touched anyone until a pivotal scene, and it being a rarity made the scene pack more of a punch, and then I looked back and realized he just doesn't do that often, there's another earlier scene that also feels shocking because it's another rare use of explicit touch, his touch is more targeted--he doesn't need to constantly do it to feel threatening at all, and is in fact much more threatening and unsettling without it. (I literally had to pause some instances because I was nervous about what Anillis would do next.) It's so fascinating to watch Anillis steadily grow worse and to watch Hec-Tor gradually have the dawning realization of what Anillis is really doing and the truth of his situation. It's interesting to see Hec-Tor gradually realizing that what he's lived with his whole life and what has felt normal isn't a good thing, it's not acceptable.

And I really do like that familial love is such a motivating factor for Anillis, and that it's something that feeds into a lot of his ruthlessness and villainy; and it feels like something I still don't see enough in fiction. And it just feels more believable, more consistent. Anillis acts horribly, is abusive, but it still feels like what he does is out of love for his brother and he really is blind to what he's actually doing to his brother, that it's the opposite of what he wants, it's not protecting him like he believes. I like that level of character believability/consistency, and part of that also involves how it's overall framed, and it's still framed as pretty terrifying; Anillis cares about his brother, but his methods are twisted.

And my gut feeling does...well, feel connections between canon and this AU--and that may be obvious as source material and fic based on it, but I mean--it's as if canon were the very rough first sketch/draft, and WOF is the fully realized version of the character, plus the change of shifting his brotherly status into a brother that actually does care but goes about it in a horribly twisted way. WOF takes parts and pieces and little details from canon and fleshes them out into something more fully dimensional and more interesting. Like the trace of canon Prime's collection with plants/other things and even arguably the imagery at the end with his ship the Velvet Glove becoming a tree feel connected to a more fleshed out version in WOF where Anillis keeps a garden. And there's so much meaning that can be pulled from his garden--it's another reflection of his controlling behavior with the way he controls/manages the garden; on the flip side, it feels like it further reflects the contrast/dichotomy in his character, as gardens can still have positive connotations too--it can reflect the potential Anillis had (may still have?) for genuine good/for genuinely nurturing care. And it also does more explicitly point to Anillis's affection for family since his late father had kept a garden too and Anillis's own garden on the Velvet Glove still has his father's plants. There's so much done with Anillis's garden.

And with his backstory and the contrast in his character, just his...everything, I also want to know more about Anillis, I'm curious for even more of his backstory, even going more into "why are you like this?" Like this is a genuinely fascinating, charismatic, threatening, multi-faceted antagonist right here.  

And I can go on about Anillis, but I love Hec-Tor/Hordak in this too. I love Hordak, and I enjoy how this still feels so much like Hordak, but with a different life; I feel like there are commonalities that remain from canon within him combined with differences based on the AU he's in and the different experiences he's lived with. Like, there's such an interesting detail with Hec-Tor's growing anger issues that remind me of Hordak--it's there, but different because of their different lives, Hec-Tor's developing because of his isolation but still quieter, simmering, because his brother only has his best interests at heart, he shouldn't act like this... And then it’s so nice to see Hec-Tor be even more talkative about SCIENCE because he does have more space to be a bit more open about his passions in this AU/different life situation. And it's all like another AU I didn't realize I wanted until I saw it--I really dig seeing Hordak/Hec-Tor as a baby, as a little kid, getting to have a childhood and get to have more typical developmental stages and to have more familial experiences, albeit twisted ones. And I love how the story has shifted to Hec-Tor more, love his POV and following him on his journey.

And the clones! The clones are great in WOF and give me feels too. I love how more of them are focused on as individuals, and that we get to see more of their characters and glimpse their differing views. And when Etherian characters join in, they're as well written and interesting too (the Entrapdak is so good). I just like WOF's cast, and the line-up plucked from canon and how they adjust to the AU; this ensemble just feels better, and it's utilized and treated better than canon.

And the worldbuilding with Anillis & Hec-Tor’s race and the clones and their world is so good and seamlessly interwoven with story and character, enhancing the whole thing even more and making things even more interesting.

I just...really love these characters and this story. They have a lot of heart and intrigue.

(Disclaimer: I definitely ended up having trouble figuring out tags for this. Especially since I think only the first five tags actually show up at first? And I think last I checked tumblr freaks out over dashes within a tag so while “hec-tor kur” probably fits better, I don’t think tumblr can handle that for some reason so just going with “hordak,” which also really still just fits.)

[cowtingz]

Musically Inclined

Musically Inclined  

GoodAnimeGirl4536

Summary:

"James asks Sam to run into town and pick up some music for him, and this one dumb errand turns into a trip he won't soon forget."

Notes:

Music Store AU that is fluffiness to the max.  

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Story:

Sam didn't get the Human World.

Sure, there were some sweets perks to living in it: he had way more freedom than when he was living in the Abyssal Plains, for one. Yeah, he'd pretty much slacked off that whole time, but at least here, he could slack off and not have his douchebag Dad breathing down his neck.

Video games were pretty cool, too. Matthew had dug up some old human gaming console from the mansion’s basement the first week after they’d arrived, and since then, handing his ass to him never got old.

But the rest was kind of a shitshow.

Sam didn’t know much about Human World history either. Unlike James, who for some reason actually liked studying every aspect of human life. Their traditions and cultures were fascinating to him, and he seemed to start on a new research topic every other week. This time it was music. More specifically, a bunch of long-dead musicians.

“Sam, I’d appreciate if you could simply do me this favour,” James yelled tiredly through the open window. Sam didn’t have to see him to know he was pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.

“Why the hell do I gotta go out and get your stupid music? Whaddaya even want it for anyway?” Sam groused, not bothering to open his eyes. Cushioning his arm beneath his head, he shifted onto his side, enjoying how the afternoon sun warmed the roof.

He heard James sigh.

“I’ve already told you. If we are to stay in this world, we must learn all that we can about the people who occupy it. The research I’m compiling highlights the men and women that greatly affected humanity; explorers, theorists, musicians and scientists alike. Beethoven, Bach and Mozart for example - seen as geniuses for the prominent pieces of music they’d composed in their lifetimes, and whom are still considered to be the most brilliant minds of the age in modern-”

“Ok, ok, I got it. Geez… But why me? Isn’t this Damien’s kinda thing? He loves all that stuff about humans: just get him to do it.”

“Damien and Matthew are out shopping for this week's groceries, and before you ask, Erik is gone as well. He’s picking up some books that I need from the library.”

“So why don’t you go and get the CD’s then?” Sam retorted, adding under his breath, “You’re the one who actually wants to waste his time listening to ‘em.”

“I heard that,” James snapped, “And for your information, I’m still in the process of finalizing our Citizenship documents. Fake as they may be, blending in with the humans and their routines is crucial to the start of our new lives. Unless you’d rather spend the duration of our time here confined to the mansion.”

How the hell did his stupid research have anything to do with that last part?   Sam didn’t respond, rolling over onto his back.   Their freedom depended on some old dead guys who could write music? That logic made zero sense. But even the idea of not being able to leave the mansion for the rest of his life really sucked.

Before he had a chance to finish his internal debate though, James took his lapse of silence as a ‘yes’.

“Be sure to take some money with you, as well as one of the disposable cell phones I bought, just in case. And you can take the bus into town to get to the record shop.”

“Oh, one last thing,” James called over his shoulder, voice growing fainter as he walked away. “I’ll leave you a note with directions and a list of several composers and song titles on the dining table. It should make finding the materials simpler.”

And with that, he left, his footsteps echoing softly off the marble floors.

Once he was sure James was gone, Sam opened his eyes, squinting up at the sky. Freakin’ perfect. Reluctantly, he braced himself up on his left hand, rubbing his other palm into his eye.

All this for some stupid music…  

♪♫♪  

While on his brothers’ dumb errand, Sam discovered something else he didn’t understand about humans.

Why the hell they ever took the bus.  

Hot and cramped, with fifty other people crowding around him, it reeked like sweat and the ‘gasoline’ James had told him powered the thing. It was loud as shit too. People talking, some kid was crying, and there was a guy playing a game on his phone and screaming at it.

If the humans thought it was bad, it was a thousand times worse for Sam. With his enhanced senses, the smell and noise were practically choking him, and getting jostled every two minutes by the old lady knitting in the seat beside him wasn’t helping.  

Agitated, he tried to adjust his hold on the safety pole but felt the steel crumple in his grasp. He quickly loosened his grip, only to find a perfect imprint of his hand dented into the metal. Sam groaned and resigned himself to leaning against the damn thing instead. That was precisely the moment that the old lady finished her row, and jabbed him squarely in the ribs again. Startled, he fell to the dirty bus floor, landing on his ass with a thud. The guy on his phone snickered, and Sam's blood boiled.

Fucking awesome.  

When the bus finally stopped, he vaulted over the seats, dashed out the sliding doors with inhuman speed, and skidded to a stop on the sidewalk. Bent over with his hands on his knees, he gasped for air, taking several deep breaths.

He was walking back to the mansion, no fucking question.  

Once the horrible smell was out of his nose and the ringing had faded from his ears, Sam straightened. Breathing hard and pissed beyond belief, he pulled the paper James had left him out of his vest pocket. The faster he got this done, the better, and according to the crudely drawn map sketched on the note, the record store was a just a little further down the road - the fifth on the left.

He heard it before he saw it. Muffled laughter and music floated down the street, coming from a run-down looking shop.

It was definitely old, crammed between an arcade and a bookstore. The bricks were chipped and worn. Cobwebs blew gently in the corners of windows that were littered with faded posters, and a stained welcome mat sat in front of a tarnished brass door. In short, it looked like shit, but Sam couldn't have cared less; it wasn’t like he planned on taking his time.

Pushing the door open, a bell chimed above Sam's head and scattered voices mixed with the music playing in the background.

It was bigger than it looked outside, but just as messy. Boxes were stacked everywhere, while different instruments hung on the walls. A busted light cast shadows over the back of the store while the sections of CD’s were brightly lit. Rows of shelves held hundreds of discs for people to browse, but thankfully it was nowhere near as cramped as the bus.

Now that he was here, all he had to do was find James’s shit. Then he could get back to the mansion. Sam wandered to the nearest shelf and unfolded the list again. Ruffling his hair, he started scanning the names, already bored. After the first couple lines, though, he furrowed his brow and brought the paper closer to his face.

Looking over the titles a little more closely, his eyes widened. Shit...  

He couldn’t recognize one damn word on the page.

It was no big secret that Sam couldn’t read, not extensively anyway. He knew the basics, kinda, but James and Erik were the ones who’d been taught properly, being the prospective heirs and all. Matthew had picked up some reading and writing from his mom, and Damien… Well, he had actually tried to learn once they’d ended up in the Human World, combing through the mansion’s library for practice. Sam had meant to join him once or twice, he just… hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

He could read some smaller words, and he’d been kind of betting on that to get him through the stupid trip. But the names and titles James had written were long and complicated, completely foreign to him. If he couldn’t pick out any familiar words, how the hell was he supposed to find the right CD’s?

Gripping the paper tighter, Sam tried to focus on the letters of James’s handwriting, but they melted and blurred together.

Fuck. Now what was he gonna do?

Growling under his breath, he picked a random case off the shelf and scrutinized it, trying to match the title cover to something on his list. …No, this one didn't start with the right letter. He dropped it back in its slot and picked up another. The font was curly and intricate, which made reading it even harder. …Was that one long word or two really short ones…?  

“Hi there! Can I help you with anything?”

Sam stiffened at the sudden, perky voice behind him, his fingers gripping the case in his hands hard enough to audibly crack the plastic. He was not in the mood for this shit right now…  

With a grim set of his jaw and a biting “No, I’m fine, leave me alone ” on his lips, he whirled around, but the words promptly died in his throat.

A girl was standing with her thumbs hooked casually in the front pockets of her jeans. Long, dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders, shining even in the dim light. Contrasting sharply against her fair skin, it brought out her wide, emerald green eyes; eyes that were watching him closely.

She tilted her head to the side, concern dimming her cheerful smile as she stared up at him. “Hey, are you alright?” she asked, noticing how white his knuckles had gone around the CD case.

“What?” Sam replied thickly, his thoughts buzzing as he tried not to swallow his own tongue.

Her expression softened, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Can I help you?” she repeated patiently. “Are you looking for something?”

His brain froze; he couldn't help it. Her voice was so soft that if he’d been another foot away, he might've missed it. And yet, it held such tenderness, something Sam had no experience with at all. He was utterly stunned; the deadly combination of both shock and awe rendering him baffled.

Blinked owlishly, he nodded, handing her the crushed note robotically. When her fingers brushed his, more warmth seeped through his already flustered body.

“It’s nice you have a list. A lot of the time, people just come in here with a general idea of what they’re looking for, and they end up wandering around for hours.” She laughed nostalgically at her own memory, before smoothing the paper over her leg and reading through it. “Alright, let’s see… Oh! 'Bach, Beethoven, Chopin, and Mozart'. You’re interested in Classical music?” she presumed.

“Uh, well, yeah. I guess?” Sam muttered, cursing himself for stammering like an idiot. She was just some girl - a human girl - and yet he could barely string together a proper sentence. What the hell was wrong with him?  

“Cool! It’s been too long since someone showed an interest in something other than the usual Top 40’s.” Nodding thoughtfully, she refolded his list and peered down at the CD he was still clutching. “But you know, I think you’re gonna have a little trouble finding what you're looking for here…" she said matter-of-factly, and Sam's breath hitched.

Shit - she’d made him. What the hell did he do now? Explain why he couldn’t read the labels? He blanked, her sudden appearance and the panic now flooding his veins leaving him incapable of responding, let alone defending himself.

But instead of scrutiny, her eyes sparkled with mischief, and she chewed her bottom lip. "…Because the Country section is a really bad place to start.”

The blood drained from Sam’s face, and she snorted, bursting into a fit of laughter. Light and happy, it rang clear as a bell, and even as he sagged against the shelf in relief, warmth flooded his chest. Who had a laugh like that? Dumbfounded, he listened as she continued to giggle softly, nose scrunched.

Then indignation had him scowling half-heartedly. She was laughing at him. That girl nearly gave him a heart attack, and she thought it was funny? What the hell?!  

Still trying to smother her laughter with her hand, she looked back up at him with the sweetest smile Sam had ever seen. His scowl faltered.

Well, she was… actually… kinda cute. She had to work here, right? Why else would she ask him if he needed help? Maybe he could get her name… No way, she’d probably freak out or something. Worse, she might figure out what he was, and then James would kick his-

Wait. Country?  

Realizing his mistake, Sam’s face burned, and he quickly returned the disc. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he awkwardly cleared his throat, “So, um, w-where can I find those uh-”

“I can show you!” she offered, maybe a little too quickly, and her face flushed a warm pink. Sam gawked at her eager response and, embarrassed, she looked down at her shoes. “S-sorry. It’s just… been awhile since someone came in looking for Classical music, that's all…”

The pink tint to her cheeks proved to be incredibly distracting, and since he still wasn’t all there, Sam just continued to stare like a dumbass.

It got uncomfortably quiet for a second; Sam standing like a statue while the girl shifted her weight from foot to foot. His brain was screaming at him to say something - anything - but she beat him to it.

“You know what, you-you brought a list, so you obviously know what you need.” She smiled sheepishly, and Sam’s heart lurched into his throat. “I should probably just leave you to-”

“No!” he cut her off sharply. Taken aback, she stared up at him with wide eyes, and he shook his head vigorously. Without her, he had no goddamn hope of finding the stuff for James. And for some stupid reason… he didn’t want to see her go. “Uh, no,” he said again, a little more put together. “You can help… If you want.”

His mumbled words were almost indistinguishable, but she caught them anyway, and another beautiful smile lit up her face, effectively taking his breath away for the third time.

“Ok then! Just follow me.” Beaming, she turned on her heel, and Sam couldn’t help but admire her figure as she walked away. Slim, but curvy, she held herself with the same grace he remembered from the higher ups in the Abyssal Plains. But that was where the similarities ended. There was something else - it wasn’t the same ‘holier-than-thou ’, 'walks-with-a-stick-up-their-ass’ kind of attitude. The way she folded her hands, the light behind her smile. She was just… warm.

“Are you coming?” Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he quickly jogged to catch up to her. Together, they breezed past row after row of music, and at every turn, she was recognized by someone; asking how she was, or if school was going well.

“You’re pretty popular,” Sam commented as they wormed their way through the store.

She scoffed, which still somehow managed to sound endearing.

“Thanks, but I’m really not. I’ve only been working here part-time for about 6 months, just until I finish up my last year of high school. Most of our customers are regulars anyway; not many people actually go out to buy their music anymore, ya know?”

No, he didn't. But Sam chose not to mention that in fear of looking even more stupid than he already felt.

Finally reaching an aisle around the far end of the shop, she spread the list out beside her and set to work, skimming her fingers lightly across the tops of the albums. Stacking CD after CD, she worked diligently with a determined smile, expressing how genuinely happy she was with the task of helping him.

Sam watched the pile steadily grow until there were about two dozen cases, at least.

Geez, how much music did James need?  

Every so often, she’d lean over and check the paper before setting back to work, but the motion kept untucking a lock of hair from behind her ear. And seeing her run her small fingers through it, attempting to pin it back into place over and over again, was driving Sam crazy. So were the soft sounds she made, the little ‘hmm’s and oh’s when she got frustrated, or the ‘uh-huh’s and ‘ah-ha’s when she found the correct album.

After a few minutes she finally finished, and Sam could breathe properly again. Adding one last case to the pile with a loud clack!, she turned back to rest against the shelf.

“Phew! That should be all of them! Quite the collection you’re starting; I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone buy so many CD’s at once.” Her bubbly enthusiasm was infectious, and slowly, Sam found himself relaxing.

“Thanks,” he said, scratching at his jaw absently.

“No problem. By the way, my name is Mika. Probably should’ve said that awhile ago but…” Trailing off, and once again brushing back that piece of hair, she looked at him expectantly.

“Sam,” he introduced stiffly, “I’m Sam.”

She must’ve smiled at him more than a half a dozen times now, but it didn’t stop her from sending another his way, just as dazzling as the others. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam.”

♪♫♪  

Fifteen minutes later, his CD’s were packed into shopping bags - three to be precise - and Sam was ready to head back to the mansion. Mika had offered to check him out, and she’d been incredibly patient as he floundered with the currency James had left him. Seeing his distress, she’d taken his money and counted out exactly how much he owed, despite the growing line behind them.

“Thanks... again,” he muttered lamely, collecting his change off the counter.

“It’s ok. You did have quite the bill,” she laughed brightly, scribbling something down on the last CD before dropping it into one of the bags. “I hope your friend enjoys the music, by the way.”

“Whaddaya mean?” Sam questioned, and she arched a brow.

“The music. It’s not for you, is it?” She drummed her fingers against the wood tabletop. “I mean I don’t want to assume but…” He swallowed as she appraised his appearance with gentle curiosity - his vest, ripped shirt, and silver dog tags - before meeting his gaze with keen eyes, “You don’t look like you’re into Classical.”

Sam felt heat crawl up his neck and into his face. He dragged a hand through his hair in what he hoped seemed like a controlled action, awkwardly trying to regain a grasp on the situation.

It would be easier if she’d just stop looking at him like that.

She waved off his stuttered attempt at an explanation with a shake of her head. “It’s fine. I hope you’ll come back again soon, though. Maybe then I’ll get a chance to find out what kind of music you like to listen to.” The invitation to return had his heart sputtering wildly in his chest.

“Hey, lovebirds! Can we hurry it up please?” an aggravated voice shouted behind him in line, and Sam choked.

He whipped his head around. “We’re not-!” he began hoarsely - mainly because all the air in his lungs seemed to have disappeared - but Mika cut him off.

“Tony, be nice. We’re not going to have a repeat of last month’s karaoke night, are we?” Laughter erupted in the line, and the man -Tony? - grumbled angrily.

Mika leaned on her forearms against the countertop, shielding the side of her mouth with her hand. “Had to be 'removed from the premises’ when he flipped over a patio table,” she whispered under her breath, amusement dancing in her green eyes, and Sam smirked. She bit her lip to keep from giggling, hoping to maintain some form of professionalism as he picked up his bags and headed for the door.

“Thanks for stopping by!” Mika called from behind the counter with a little wave, and Sam’s heart gave one last loud thump at her brilliant smile. He nodded with a hesitant grin, and suddenly he was out on the sidewalk.

Sam blinked rapidly, turning to look back in through the large window, and saw she was already helping the next customer. It was the man who’d interrupted them, and by the way he was hanging his head and Mika’s stern finger wagging, she was letting him have it.

Chuckling, he walked back to the bus stop and was right on time to catch the next one out. He was lucky enough to score a seat this time around too, and gratefully dropped the bags of CD’s on the floor underneath him.

Sam quickly craned his neck to get one last look at the store. Mika was partially blocked by the angle, but he could tell she was talking animatedly to someone, and smiling just as warmly as she had before. Then she was gone, enveloped in a cloud of black fumes as the bus pulled away.

♪♫♪  

Sam shifted in his chair, trying to get comfortable, but while the smell wasn’t as bad this time around, the noise was still insufferable. With a groan, he gave up. Desperate to distract himself, Sam noted the bags on the floor and shrugged, leaning down and yanking one open.   Shuffling through the contents, he examined the cover art and odd titles until he finally came across a case at the bottom of the bag that made him pause. The artwork appeared to be graphics of chainlink over a black background with bold, white text. That wasn’t what caught his eye, though.

Sam’s brows rose as he read one of the only English words he knew: his human name. Written on a piece of tape stuck to the front, it pointed with a little arrow, indicating he should open the case. He did so, and found a small, handwritten note scrawled on a fold of paper that had his ears burning:

Sam: “You seem like a rock kind of guy. Here’s an album by Rise of the Phoenix. I think you’ll like them! Let me know, ok? ♪ (XXX) XXX-XXXX ♫" - Mika  

He couldn’t quite make out all of the text, but he sure as hell could recognize a phone number. Grinning to himself like an idiot, Sam let the bag of CD’s drop back to the ground below his seat but held tight to the one Mika had left especially for him.

He’d meet up with Damien in the library to start practicing first thing tomorrow. After he listened to a certain album.

Notes:

Thank you for reading this fluffy fic. I hope you enjoyed! And in case you missed it, the album Mika gives to Sam is a direct reference to the single 'Chained the Monster', which is the opening theme for Seduce Me the Otome! I highly recommend you take a listen to it if you haven't already; it's an awesome song!

Copy and paste to see song:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RlYYsnVREC8