#move aside I’ll design his outfits

[mootmuse]

shoves this message into a bottle and sends it back in time to every person in charge of every single one of jr ntr’s outfits in every dance he did in every one of the movies he filmed back when he was chubby:

your movie’s spent all this time building his character up to be so cool and so badass and so sexy and you change your mind at the last second? ‘they’ll only believe he’s sexy until they find out he’s chubby, got to hide it!’ no. incorrect. his outfits are being designed by cowards and fools. if his love interest gets to dance in cute little form fitting outfits so does he. stop putting him in potato sacks like we don’t want to see him. you tell me I should be into him and then you cockblock me like this

[waitimcomingtoo]

He’ll Have To Get In Line

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: Peeta amps up the star crossed lovers act when Finnick takes a liking to you

Masterlist

As you waited to get into your chariot for your second tribute parade, you calmed your nerves by petting the horses. You kept your head down with a plan to stay away from the other tributes until you knew what you were dealing with. Your plan was tossed aside when one of the tributes, Finnick Odair, saw you by yourself and approached you. He was noisily munching on a sugar cube as he walked up to you, making you look up. You noticed his bare chest, and then perfect chiseled face before gulping.

“Sugar?” He asked you.

“What?” You asked, too distracted by his lack of apparel that you weren’t listening.

“Sugar cubes. They’re good.” He explained as he held up a sugar cube.

“No thank you. I think those are for the horses.”

“Eh, who cares. They get enough of them. And they’re not the ones headed into a death game, right?” He chuckled and popped another into his mouth. You weren’t expected him to make light of your situation since no one else ever really did so you faked a laugh along with him.

“That was a fake laugh. But I’ll forgive you since we’re friends now.” Finnick said as he popped another sugar cube into his mouth. You felt embarrassed that he caught on to your inauthenticity but he didn’t sound upset. He had a way of being very blunt in what he said but charismatic with how he said it.

“We’re friends? We don’t know anything about each other.” You pointed out.

“But we share two things in common. We won our games and we’re painfully good looking. Now, come on. Try a cube. They won’t have these in the area.” He said and held one out to you. You didn’t comment on him calling you good looking but took the cube from the palm of his hand with a coy smile.

“Taste it. It’s sweet.” He said with a debonair grin. You looked him in the eyes and bit into the cube, tasting a sweetness you had never known.

“You like it, don’t you?” He said and already knew your answer.

“I might.” You admitted as you popped the rest of the cube in your mouth.

“I knew you would. I saw you standing over here with the horses and said to myself, that girl likes it sweet. I just knew I had to offer you one.”

“Well, thank you. You were right.” You smiled and realized you had been smiling like a child the entire conversation so far. You quickly dropped your face and covered your mouth self consciously, but Finnick had already moved on.

“Oh my. Forgive me, I didn’t notice what you were wearing until now. Thats certainly a get up.” Finnick smirked as he looked you up and down.

“It’s for my district.” You said in embarrassment and covered yourself with your arms. The clothes Cinna had dressed you in were beautiful but far from something you’d pick for yourself.

“I know. I like it.” Finnick replied with a wink. You felt your breath hitch in your throat and the effortless charm he was just exuded and let your arms drop to your sides.

“Oh. Well, thank you. Cinna designed it.” You told him. The way Finnick was looking at you in the moment made you forget most things you knew, but nothing could make you forget to give credit to Cinna for his remarkable abilities.

“I should’ve known Cinna was behind this. He’s great. But it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. No one’s gonna be looking at your outfit.” Finnick shrugged and looked you up and down again.

“What makes you say that?” You frowned. Finnick smirked a little as he reached towards your face and tilted your chin up with his thumb. You sucked in a sharp breath and stayed perfectly still as he gazed into your eyes.

“That pretty face is gonna get all the attention. Who could look away?” Finnick asked.

“Pretty?” You asked in almost a whisper.

“Extremely. But I’m assuming there’s another name I can call you by. I’m Finnick. And you?”

“Y/n.”

“And so you are. Lovely name for a lovely girl.” Finnick said and shot you another wink.

You smiled at him and momentarily forgot all about the parade and your nerves. You were so focused on the handsome boy in front of you that you didn’t notice Peeta in the distance. He was staring daggers at Finnick and trying to figure out what would possibly warrant him needing to touch your face. When he saw you laugh at something Finnick had said in a louder laugh than he had ever heard from you, his jealousy got the better of him. He walked up to where you were and stood beside you.

“Oh, hi Peeta. This is Finnick.” You said and gestured to Finnick. Finnick gave Peeta a wink but it was different from the one he had given you. Peeta’s jaw clenched and he stood up a little straighter.

“The parade is gonna start soon. Shouldn’t you finish putting on your outfit?” Peeta asked Finnick.

“This is my outfit.” Finnick chuckled and gestured to his shirtless torso and skirt made of fishing net.

“Oh. Wow. It’s so….unique.” Peeta replied and made no effort to hide his sarcasm.

“I know. My stylist likes to play up the whole pretty boy Capital darling thing. He said wearing a shirt would dull my charm.” Finnick shrugged and flexed his arms a little. Peeta heard you gulp and felt white hot jealousy go through his veins.

“I think he’s right.” You said with a nervous laugh.

“Do you? So it’s working then? I’m charming you?” Finnick asked and took a step closer to you. Peeta couldn’t help but roll his eyes all the way to the ceiling.

“I don’t know if I’d call it charm. But you’re definitely evoking some emotion.” Peeta said with a tight smile. Finnicks eyes left yours for a second to clock Peeta. He looked him up and down and smirked a little.

“You know what I think? I think that you and I should train together. I’m sure we have a lot to teach each other.” Finnick said as he turned his attention back to you.

“Oh. Okay. Sure.” You shrugged.

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you out there.” Finnick gave you one last wink before walking away. You immediately smiled and waved to him as he left.

“See you!” You called after him. Peeta stepped in front of you once Finnick was gone to bring your attention back to earth.

“He was so nice. He probably heard about me and wants to learn archery.” You said with a smile.

“Bullshit.” Peeta mumbled.

“Woah. You need to put a coin in the swear jar for that one.” You laughed in surprise and folded your arms.

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” Peeta said genuinely. He felt bad for popping your bubble just to ease his own jealousy.

“Hey, I’m just kidding. It was entertaining to hear you swear. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I had it in me. I have a lot of things in me.” Peeta insisted and suddenly worried if you saw him as less of a man now that you’d met the muscular and valorous Finnick.

“Like what?” You chuckled and raised and eyebrow.

“Nothing. Never mind. What else did you guys talk about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I blacked out a little. But we talked about the horses. And sugar.”

“Really, that’s all? You guys were talking for a while.” Peeta frowned.

“Honestly, I didn’t do much talking. He came at me with so many compliments and I was stunned to silence.” You realized.

“Compliments? What did he say?” Peeta forced a laugh so he didn’t come off as jealous as he felt that another man was complimenting you. It wasn’t just that he complimented you, but that you clearly liked it.

“He said I was pretty.” You admitted with a shy smile on your face.

“That’s it?“ Peeta scoffed.

“Why? Do you think I’m not pretty?” You asked and touched your cheek insecurely.

“No! Of course I do.” Peeta quickly explained. “I think you’re so pretty. I just don’t touch your face to tell you that.”

“Yeah. I guess he was pretty friendly.” You agreed and kept your hand on your face as you replayed him touching your chin.

“If that’s your way of putting “handsy”, then yes. Very friendly.” Peeta mumbled.

“I don’t know why I even care what some boy thinks. I guess I’m just not used to the attention. I can’t even remember the last time someone told me I was pretty.” You admitted as you played with the frills on your outfit. Peeta felt bad for making little of what Finnick has said when it clearly meant something to you.

“Maybe people think it but just don’t tell you.” Peeta said in a soft voice.

“I doubt it.” You shrugged.

“Well, don’t. Because I happen to think that you’re-“

“Good luck out there, pretty girl.” Finnick called from his chariot across the room. You looked over at Finnick and waved to him.

“Thanks. You too.” You called after him.

“I’ll have my eye on you.” He winked at you as his horses pulled him out of the room. You didn’t know what to say to that so you have an half hearted thumbs up while Peeta rolled his eyes.

“So what do you think? Should we train with him?” You asked once he was gone.

“Absolutely not.” Peeta said immediately.

“Really? Why not? He was the youngest ever winner of the games. He’s gotta be good, right?”

“I’m sure he is. But he’s not someone we should keep around.” Peeta replied.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because he asked me once if you and I were really in love or just putting on a show. And judging by his tone, I’m guessing he knows the answer.” Peeta whispered to you.

“He did?”

“Yeah. Right before telling me there isn’t gonna be any sugar or flour in the area so I’ll be out of luck.” Peeta grumbled, making you laugh. Peeta felt his jealousy return when he heard you laugh at Finnicks joke.

“Sorry. He was trying to be mean but that’s kinda funny.” You admitted.

“You think he’s funny?” Peeta asked quietly.

“No. I mean, I don’t know. I only just met him.”

“Hm.” Peeta hummed and looked to the side.

“What?” You wondered.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“I know. That’s why I’m asking. You always have something to say. Until now, mysteriously. Is everything okay?” You asked him and touched his shoulder. Peeta looked at where your hand had been and sighed before looking in your eyes.

“He’s been talking about you a lot lately. Like, a lot a lot.” Peeta admitted.

“Really?” You asked and didn’t hide how intrigued you were.

“One of the other tributes told me brings you up every chance he gets ever since we won the last games. He even said…” Peeta began but then trailed off.

“He said what?” You urged and shook his arm.

“He said he’s gonna have a hard time killing someone so pretty.” Peeta admitted. Your curiosity about Finnick quickly turned into fear.

“Was he joking?” You asked quietly.

“I think so. But I don’t find it funny.”

“Neither do I.” You agreed. You finally stopped thinking about Finnick long enough to look at what Peeta was wearing for the tribute parade. His shirt was made of the same material as your corset and bared his arms. You had never seen his arms exposed like that and wanted him to know you liked it.

“I like what Cinna put you in.” You changed the subject and nodded towards his outfit.

“Thanks. It’s cool and all but definitely not something I’d chose for myself.” Peeta laughed softly as he climbed into the chariot.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you’ve been waiting to show off these arms for a while.” You teased him. He held out his hand and helped you climb up into the chariot.

“You really do look beautiful tonight.” He told you.

“Thank you. But I don’t really feel like me. I feel like I’m wearing someone else’s clothes. And their face.” You admitted as you pressed your fingertips into your cheeks and felt the layers of makeup you had on.

“I know the feeling. But it’s just for tonight. You can be you again tomorrow.” Peeta assured you.

“So can you.” You told him with a soft smile. He held out his hand and you held it the way you did the first time you rode in the tribute parade.

“We can be us.” He said.

Following the parade, you dismounted your chariot and let Peeta pick you up to help you off the platform. Once your feet were in the ground, Finnick came running over to you and pulled you into an unexpected hug.

“There she is. Great job out there today.” He said once he pulled away. Peeta was once again staring daggers at him and took a step closer to your side.

“Thank you. But I didn’t really do much. I just kinda stood there.” You shrugged.

“That’s all you need to do. And I swear, you were the only one I had my eyes on.” Finnick said and touched your chin again. Peeta cleared his throat and wrapped a protective arm around your waist. Finnick noticed this and looked into Peeta’s eyes with a cocky smirk.

“So, what will you do with the rest of your evening now that the whole world wants to sleep with you?” Finnick asked you, making yours and Peeta’s eyes go wide.

“I don’t know about that.” You laughed nervously.

“Hm. Maybe just me then.” Finnick said with a causal shrug. Peeta clenched his jaw and stepped forward to let Finnick know he needed to back off. Finnick laughed and held up his hands in defense.

“Ah, I’m only kidding Peeta. I wouldn’t try to steal your girl right in front of you.” Finnick assured him.

“Oh. Good.” Peeta relaxed a little when he heard Finnick refer to you as “his” girl.

“I’d wait until your back is turned.” Finnick quickly followed up, making you laugh in surprise.

“Come on. I’m joking.” Finnick grinned and patted Peeta’s shoulder.

“Aren’t jokes supposed to be funny?” Peeta asked with a tight smile.

“Hey, I’m just messing with you guys. I’m like this with everyone. I just like to have a little fun so don’t take it out on me in the games, okay?” Finnick said and patted Peeta’s arm again, making Peeta yank it back and give him a look.

“I’ll let you guys go. We have a lot of training to do tomorrow so don’t keep her up all night, all right Peeta?” Finnick laughed as he walked away.

“No promises.” Peeta grumpily called after him. You stepped in front of Peeta and folded your arms once Finnick was gone.

“You’re gonna keep me up all night, huh?” You teased him.

“Shut up. He started it.” Peeta grumbled.

“And you certainly ended it. Come on. Let’s go to bed.” You said and started walking towards the sleeping facilities. Peeta followed you to the girls ward and lingered outside your door.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Peeta asked with a bit of a whine in his voice.

“You want to? I assumed your want the big fancy bed in your room all to yourself.”

“I just don’t want people to get suspicious if they see us sleeping in separate rooms. Since we’re madly in love and all that.” Peeta explained with a coy smile.

“Good point. Come in.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him and let him into your room. You slept on his chest like you usually did and he forgot all about Finnick.

In the morning, you and Peeta went downstairs join the rest of the tributes for a welcome breakfast. When you walked into the room together, Finnick was the first to greet you.

“Good morning, you two. I hope you got some sleep.” Finnick said with a suggestion wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Not much.” You said through a yawn. The other tributes at the table snickered and exchanged knowing looks with each other. You realized how that sounded and felt embarrassed.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You whispered to Peeta.

“It’s okay. Roll with it. It helps our act.” He whispered back and gave your arm a squeeze.

“Here. I saved you a seat.” Finnick said and gestured to the two vacant seats beside him.

“Please, no. It’s too early for him.” Peeta leaned in to whine in your ear.

“We have to be polite. You’ll be okay.” You whispered back.

“Fine. But I’m not sitting next to him.”

“I’ll sit in the middle.” You assured him and took the seat right next to Finnick. Peeta watched the way you smiled at each other and realized he made the wrong move.

“How did you sleep?” You politely asked Finnick.

“Not great either so I got up early and went for a run around the garden.” Finnick told you.

“This place has a garden?”

“It does. Have you done any exploring of the facilities yet? I could give you a tour if you’d like. We can start in my room.” Finnick replied, making Peeta choke on the water he had sipped.

“She and I already looked around. We just didn’t find the garden.” Peeta cut in.

“Well the offer still stands. I could use the company.” Finnick said with a suave smile that made Peeta roll his eyes to the ceiling.

“I’ll think about it.” You answered to be polite. An awkward silence followed and you could sense that Peeta was upset. You picked a piece of bread from your plate and took a bite.

“What kind of bread is this? I’ve never seen this in 12.” You turned to ask Peeta. He stopped being grumpy and smiled at the question.

“It’s called challah. I’ve seen it in my recipe books but I never had the ingredients to make it.” He answered you.

“It’s good. It’s sweet.” You commented and took another bite.

“Here. Take mine.” Peeta said and put his bread on your plate. You smiled gratefully and moved the eggs from your plate onto his.

“I don’t like them anyway. And I know you do.” You explained.

“Thank you.” Peeta smiled at you.

“Gross.” Finnick snickered. “Get a room.”

“We will. But we need to eat first.” Peeta snapped, making you laugh in surprise.

“Good one.” You whispered to him. The rest of the meal went by without anymore comments from Finnick or Peeta.

Training began later that day. You and Peeta stayed close by each other and built up your weakest skills while keeping a close eye on the other tributes. Meanwhile, Finnick was having a gallant time showing off at the different training areas. He didn’t take anything to do with the games seriously anymore so he was just there to have fun. You and Peeta watched him hit targets with ease with his trident and bask in the applause. You then looked down at what you were doing, which was leaning how to paint your body to camouflage into the ground. Peeta was teaching you some simple painting techniques but you couldn’t help but get distracted by Finnick’s skills.

“Not for nothing, but should we consider being allies with Finnick?” You asked Peeta.

“I thought it was just gonna be me and you in there.” Peeta said without looking at you.

“Is that what you want?” You asked him.

“I want what you want.” He replied and looked into your eyes.

“I just wanted you. But if he asks us, it wouldn’t hurt to be his ally. He has been training for this his whole life. It would be better to have him on our side than hunting us.” You shrugged.

“That’s the thing. He doesn’t want me as an ally. He only wants you.” Peeta reminded you.

“Why just me? You’re stronger and can fight.”

“Because he’s in love with you.” Peeta said loud enough to draw the attention of several tributes, including Finnick. Peeta hung his head in disappointment as Finnick sauntered over to you.

“Uh oh. Talking about me, I hope.” Finnick said with a grin. “Come with me, Y/n. I want to show you how it tie a fisherman’s knot.”

“She already knows how to do that.” Peeta grumbled.

“Oh really? What about a sheep shank?” Finnick asked you.

“What’s that?” You asked.

“Follow me and I’ll show you.” Finnick offered and held out his hand. Peeta watched the way you took his hand to stand up and clenched his jaw. You started to follow Finnick until you heard a little groan from Peeta. You didn’t want to upset Peeta, but you did want to learn a new knot.

“Peeta should come too so that he can learn.” You stated.

“Peeta’s busy. Besides, I don’t think knots are really his thing. He’s more into arts and crafts, right Peeta?” Finnick asked and shot Peeta a wink. Peeta stayed silent as he glared at Finnick.

“I’ll be right back.” You told Peeta with an apologetic smile. Peeta tried to focus on his painting but could not stop looking up at you and Finnick. Finnick did the classic move of wrapping his arms around you to show you how to do something which made Peeta sick to his stomach.

“Wanna take me for a walk?” Finnick laughed as he wrapped a knot around his neck. You laughed as well and Peeta couldn’t take it anymore. That’s when he realized he didn’t have to take it. As far as everyone in the room was concerned, you and Peeta were supposedly in love. That meant he didn’t have to stand by and watch some guy flirt with his girl. Peeta marched up to you and spun you around by the waist before planting a kiss on your lips. You stumbled back in surprise before kissing him back. Finnick watched the kiss and chuckled softly, knowing exactly what Peeta was doing. You gave him a confused by pleased smile when he pulled away but he just kept his usual cheery smile on.

“Sorry. I just need to borrow my fiancé for a minute.” Peeta said to Finnick before pulling you aside.

“Go right ahead.” Finnick replied.

“What was that all about?” You whispered once you were out of earshot.

“Nothing. I just wanted to tell you that I’m gonna check out the poisonous berry catalog in case you’re looking for me.” Peeta said innocently.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me.” You said and narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him. Peeta pecked your lips again before going over to the catalog. You touched your buzzing lips before going back to Finnick.

“Well somebody’s jealous.” Finnick chuckled.

“Leave him alone. You’re antagonizing him.” You scolded playfully.

“I know. And it’s very fun.” Finnick insisted.

“Well knock it off. He’s a good guy.”

“I know he is. But I’m bored of the other tributes and you guys are fresh meat. Let me play a little, okay?”

“All right. But I think he’s playing too now.” You warned.

And that’s exactly what Peeta was doing. Now that he remembered his advantage over Finnick, he used it anytime he could. He started kissing you when entering or leaving any room and making sure it was always in Finnicks line of sight. His hands were often on your hips or arm when standing near each other and he always had a grip on your leg when sitting. Finnick would always chuckle and look away, knowing it mattered a lot more to Peeta than it did to him. Peeta’s need for your attention also increased and you found that he was always right by your side or lingering just around the corner. You didn’t mind since you were anxious about the upcoming games and having him around always calmed you. But you couldn’t help but be bothered by the way he checked to see if Finnick was watching each time he kissed or touched you.

You were talking to Finnick in the hallway one day when you felt two strong arms wrap around your shoulders. You knew it was Peeta without looking because of the amused look on Finnicks face.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Peeta said and pecked your lips.

“Hello Peeta.” Finnick said curtly.

“Hello Finnick. Were you unable to find your wardrobe? I could loan you some shirts, if you’d like.” Peeta offered when he noticed that once again, Finnicks chest was bare. You clocked the sarcasm underneath Peeta’s kind tone and turned your head to laugh.

“That’s okay. I prefer it this way. It lets me move my arms more freely.” Finnick said and flexed his arms to prove his point. Peeta saw your eyes go wide and clenched his jaw.

“You must be really strong, Finnick.” You noted as your eyes stayed glued to his arms.

“I do a lot of heavy lifting back home. Go on, feel them.” Finnick said as he stared right into Peeta’s eyes.

“Oh, uh…” You laughed nervously and gripped Finnicks bicep like he asked. You didn’t want to deny the offer and seem rude, and you seriously wanted to feel his muscles, so Peeta was gonna have to take one for the team.

“Wow.” You gasped. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

“I bet you haven’t.” Finnick grinned and shot a smug look at Peeta. Peeta could do nothing but watch with jealousy brewing in his eyes, and that was all Finnick needed.

“Well, I should get some rest. We have another big day tomorrow. But I’ll be looking forward to when my eyes can see yours again.” Finnick said and nudged your cheek. You smiled timidly while Peeta rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

“See you around, Peet.” Finnicks chuckled and clapped Peeta on the back. Once you were alone, Peeta let out a sigh.

“Did you really have to touch his arm?” He whined.

“I guess not. But I wanted to. We are facing death right now and I’ll probably never get another chance to feel like a normal girl my age so I’m just trying to have some fun. You should try it sometime.” You said and came off just as annoyed as you felt. Peeta was surprised your tone and gulped.

“I can’t have fun when he’s lingering around you all the time like a hawk.” He mumbled.

“Who cares what he’s doing?” You groaned.

“I care.” Peeta snapped. You raised your eyebrows at him and he immediately felt bad.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you.” Peeta apologized. “It’s just that guy. I can’t stand him. I thought he was trying to get into your head to psych you out before the games but he’s gotten into mine instead. He drives me crazy.”

“Oh, I get it. So that’s why you’ve been kissing me so much lately? You wanted to get back at Finnick?” You asked with a sad smile.

“I just wanted to remind him that you and I are a team. Not that he seems to care.” Peeta sighed.

“I care.” You said and put your hand on his shoulder. Peeta put his hand over yours and looked into your eyes apologetically.

“But I also don’t like you using me to get ahead in your little competition with Finnick. I’m not a trophy, you know. I’m a person.” You reminded him.

“You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry. I should’ve have rubbed our relationship in his face like that. Especially not without asking you first.”

“Thank you for apologizing. And it’s not that I didn’t like all the kissing. I just didn’t like that you were only doing it to bother Finnick.”

“I mean, that’s not the only reason I was kissing you. I happen to like kissing you. Annoying Finnick was just a pleasant side effect.” Peeta admitted as a blush covered his cheeks. You smiled at him admitting it and took a step closer to him.

“Well then it’s a good thing we’re on the same page, then.” You said as you toyed with the buttons on his shirt.

“We are?”

“We are. But no more fighting with Finnick. We really need him as an ally so you’ll have to learn to be civil.”

“If he can learn to keep his hands to himself then I can learn to be civil.” Peeta mumbled.

“Peeta.” You said warningly.

“Fine. Yes. You’re right. I can be civil.” Peeta said begrudgingly. You were pleased with his answer and kissed his cheek to thank him for listening. A rosy blush covered Peeta’s face and he smiled fondly at you.

“But I guess I can’t really blame him. Because I’ve had a hard time keeping my hands to myself around you too.” He said and took your chin between his fingers the way Finnick often did.

“That,” you smiled, “I’m okay with.”

Tag list

- [ ] @ilovetoomanymen @kittimbo @sipsthecoffee @ohmyhuenings

@ilykitwalker @mayemperess @scenesofobx

@imaegonstargaryenswife0 @basicb1tchboy @planetevermore @bellasfavbisexual

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hey there, hi there, ho there! It’s your friendly neighborhood tailor! Pleasure to meet you Fellow! I’m quite the seamstress, and I always love to have people to practice styles on! I have, here with me, an entire wardrobe for you and your little brother there! I’ve got winter coats, summer shorts, formal wear for any kind of stuffy event, and a line of loungewear for any kind of casual affair! Hehehehehe. These are a little more experimental outfits, but a charismatic, distinguished gentleman such as yourself would be able to pull it off seamlessly, I’m sure. *Pushes the enormous mountain of clothing to Fellow to try on* Don’t worry about any cost, I just want you to be ready for any occasion. Everyone deserves to look and feel their best. Clothes make the man and all that. I…sincerely hope you and Gidel find something out there worth doing. Take these around for a spin and see how they work. I’ll make any adjustments necessary.

So tell me, do you wanna go?

The dressing room curtain wasn't red nor velvet, but pushing them aside felt like the opening night to a grand show anyway. Fellow and Gidel stepped out, dressed in brand new outfits--similar in construction to the originals, without the holes or the mismatched fabrics. They had been trying on various threads provided by the town's local tailor for the last few hours--and, at the end of the day, this was what felt most comfortable to the duo.

A full-length mirror had been propped up against the wall, allowing them to inspect their figures in full dress. Gidel twirled and twirled until he got dizzy and had to take a seat. Fellow adjusted his lapels many times over, admiring the look and feel of brand new fabrics and buttons.

"Hmph. Not bad. Not bad at all," he said to his smug reflection.

"You're both so handsome," the tailor gushed. "The clothes suit you well."

"You sure we can have all of this for free? No strings attached?" Fellow asked warily.

His eyes darted to wheeled rack that displayed many more items. He almost breathed a sigh of relief to see it still there. Not a figment of his imagination, not a reward to be yanked away at a moment's notice. Something tangible and real.

"Yes, really! I'd appreciate it if you took them off of my hands. They're some of the season's old fashions--they've been hard to move--and some experimental pieces I made in my off-time that don't have mass appeal. It'd be a waste to not let them be worn and shown off." They chuckled to themselves. "Besides, free advertising for the shop, am I right?"

His eyes lit up, mouth breaking out into a smile that showed all of his teeth. "Hot dog! Didja hear that, Giddie? We’re set!”

The two scrambled to gather their new things. Left uncollected for too long, and they feared the clothes would vanish.

The tailor peered into their changing stall and, upon spotting their old discarded outfits strewn on the floor, tutted. They bent, retrieving them.

“You forgot to pick up your…”

They stopped.

The dark green trousers they had picked up bore large diamond shapes along one pant leg, a design most unusual. Textiles with red, green, and golden patterns pilled in the diamond holes, sealed in place with neat, tight lines of stitching. Saddle, passing back and forth—the sign of hand, not machine, stitch.

There’s talent here, they realized. Untapped potential.

The tailor cleared their throat.

“Excuse me, but have you ever considered taking up the needle and thread for a career…? If so, I might just have the apprenticeship for you.”

[inaflashimagine]

(i’ll love you) til’ the day that i die

pairing: nagumo yoichi x reader

wc: 5k

features: a piece that is part of a multi-chapter nagumo x reader x akao rion story i've been working on–i found it fitting that this section talks about his birthday! the only present he'll be getting here though is angst. includes manga spoilers, numerous mentions of akao. no use of pronouns. and for some context, reader was a poisons-making student at the JCC

The harmonious union between Sakamoto Taro and Aoi is slated to happen during the middle of the worst heat wave in years.

It’s also the same week as Nagumo’s birthday.

Within a hand’s length lies a mini swiveling fan working its best in spite of the brutal conditions. When the weak breeze finally hits the front of your face you let out the most contented sigh. 

Today you’re supposed to water the bountiful assortment of plants decorating your living room and balcony–some cultivated for fun, like the tricky fern a doting, elderly neighbor had given you recently, and others grown for work, like your newly blooming sacred datura–but completing such a task would require you to stand up. And since moving from your current position requires energy you cannot manage to expend, you continue lying on the wooden floor of your apartment, limbs sprawled out lazily like a lounging starfish as you try to ignore the perspiration forming on your forehead. 

Staring at the ceiling, you think about the outfit Asami helped you choose a few days ago, an alarmingly expensive one that’s currently hidden in the corner of your packed closet–a simple, but elegant chiffon fit that flows down to the ankles. Unfortunately, you fear that a feather-light fabric won’t stop you from sweating buckets if your current get-up of a loose tank top and baggy shorts has anything insightful to offer on how you’ll fare the weather in the coming days.

You also regret not buying a present for Nagumo the day you went shopping. The wedding is not for three days, but his birthday is tomorrow. There’s no shot you’ll be able to leave your place today unless someone drags you out of it.

Even if you somehow manage to get outside, you’re still not sure what you’ll get him. Though he denies your accusations of him being a scrupulous person with refined tastes (“Me? Picky? Never!”), you’ll never forget almost choking on your dinner the one time you decided to search up the price of those shiny custom leather boots he likes to wear on assignments. The same missions where blood splatters all over the place.

Not that it matters. Unlike Asami, you don’t have the uncanny ability to distinguish and pick out good designer items, so purchasing anything in that realm feels pointless when he likely already owns that piece or will return the ones he dislikes. You guess being a professional assassin with a lot of money to spend means you can afford to be more deliberate with what you wear.

It also feels cheap to repeat presents, although there are a few golden ones to choose from the previous list. When he turned nineteen, he was initially wary of using the hefty supply of medicine you made to treat his motion sickness, considering you first gave him a similar concoction in high school that only had him hurling more violently. (A genuine mistake, you swear. Perhaps just as much as he swears his car sickness is genuine and not an excuse to get out of driving duty.) But aside from a mission that Sakamoto said would’ve been a disaster without Kamihate, lately you haven’t heard any complaints about him feeling carsick.

(Though two weeks ago, Shishiba picked up the batch of incapacitating agents and truth serums he needed for a target before randomly telling you that Nagumo still takes the pills whenever there’s a particularly long car trip. It almost felt like the blond was indirectly thanking you, since he said he was grateful that the rental cars could now stay tidy, but that small, knowing smirk irked you enough to tell him to get going with his mission unless he wanted to be forcefed an onion salad.) 

Maybe Nagumo would like an air conditioner. You sure would like one. 

There is one other option. It wouldn’t be particularly fancy or brand new, but perhaps the sentiment it brings will suffice. Slightly lifting your head, you stare at one of the only two pictures hanging on the otherwise blank wall. You swear you had a copy of it, but now you’re doubting yourself. The more you mull it over, the more complicated it seems, and you groan in frustration as your head hits the hard floor rather forcefully.

Just fretting over this makes you laugh. Your high school self could never imagine this being what you’d spend your waking days thinking about. Back then, the thought of calling Nagumo your friend made you instantly gag, and while now you sometimes hate admitting it aloud, it would be childish to outright deny your friendship with him. 

You only started getting him presents when someone suggested a group one for his eighteenth, begrudgingly agreeing to the idea because you figured a smiling, happy Nagumo was significantly better than dealing with a version that would resort to theatrics to lament the lack of receiving a present. Strangely enough, gifting him something not only celebrates his day but also feels like you’re keeping the spirit of another alive.

“Care to share your thoughts?”

Your lips pull into a slight frown, finding that the comforting canvas that is your ceiling has now been blocked by Nagumo’s large forehead.

“No wonder why you grow out your bangs.”

“Hurtful!” But his smirk hints that he’s not too offended, even when a freakishly long arm stretches outward to flick your own head. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘Hello’, dare I even say, a cordial ‘How are you’?”

“Oh. Right. I guess I can say that.” You blink slowly, a gesture he returns. “But maybe after you tell me how you got in here?”

That question is a moot one, considering he’s become an expert at discovering new ways to break into your apartment without causing a ruckus. To tally the number of times you’ve opened the front door just to see him lounging on the couch–smooching off your snacks and streaming subscriptions despite having his own–would require more than the two hands you currently have attached. Unfortunately, there’s no point in changing the locks when he knows how to pick each one.

He remains bent over from the waist up, hands placed on hips as his eyes idly roam across your face. From this position, falling strands of his jet-black hair look like icicles that are on the precipice of impaling your head.

“You know, you really should shut your windows when you’re not in the room! Who knows when a psycho might sneak into your lovely home?”

Entering through your bedroom window is a new method. Though you’ve only started living here for half a year, eager to move into a place that wasn’t directly above your’s family perfumery. After the JAA News Channel and the JAA Times deemed the shop the second-best fragrance store in the Western branches–tragically losing the coveted first-place spot to the Nishimuras–clientele has been an all-time high while privacy has been abysmally low. (Yet perhaps you’ve overestimated your ability to find the latter in the first place.)

You’re just glad you don’t have to go to the locksmith again–the poor old man started to worry for your safety when he saw you for a third time in less than a month. 

“Did you say hi to Mochi? He’s been enjoying his free roaming time.” 

He appears as if his brain stopped working, blank doe eyes as wide as ever. A nervous laugh leaves his agape mouth that becomes frozen into a forced grin. “He’s what?”

“What’s with that tone?”

“Oh, you mean my perfectly normal reaction to finding out your poisonous snake is outside its tank?”

Your dejected sigh is a long one. “For the millionth time, he’s venomous, not poisonous.”

The footsteps of professional assassins are quieter than that of a seasoned ballerina, so the fact that you can easily hear Nagumo’s hurried ones as he retreats to the hallway shows how dramatic he’s being. Your assumption that he’s heading to the guest room–which currently holds all your reptilian enclosures, including a safely stored Mochi–is right as he exclaims, “Oh, you think you’re a comedian now?”

Though the joke was short-lived your amusement thankfully lasts longer. “You still haven’t greeted him, that’s so rude! My, oh my, whatever happened to a simple ‘Hello’? Don’t hurt his feelings.”

“Killing the birthday boy is ruder! I can’t believe you’d do that to me.”

While Mochi is a boomslang, a snake whose venomous bite can have you bleed from all your orifices until you die, his previous owner made the rather unethical choice to have its glands removed. He’s probably the most timid snake you’ve rescued–and one of the most beautiful with such vibrant green scales–but you’d never free handle him. Of course, Nagumo doesn’t need to know that important tidbit. With how rare it is to successfully prank or lie to him, you secretly enjoy pulling his leg once in a blue moon.

“Not sure if you know this, but your birthday isn’t for another twenty-four hours,” you say with closed eyes, trying to picture yourself on a cool island rather than the sweltering oven that is your living room. Talking right now feels incredibly draining. “So at this very moment, there is no obligation to keep you entertained.”

Nagumo draws out a weary exhale. “Must you make our relationship sound so transactional? I just wanted to relax with a friend after a busy work day.”

When you no longer feel the faint wind from your fan, you crack an eye open and turn your head, only to see that the precious item has been moved so that he can direct it toward his own face while he places himself next to you.

His body lies in the opposite direction to yours, but both your curious gazes match at the same level. He’s replaced the suit and tie for an unbuttoned and eccentrically patterned camp collar shirt over a baggy black tank top and bright blue shorts, meaning the scorching heat outside is no fluke. It’s the first time you’re noticing how long his hair has grown, a small knot poking out from the nape of his neck.

“I’m not sure if our relationship is transactional since that implies a two-way model,” you explain slowly, like a teacher introducing a complex concept to their students. “I give, you take, and then I take when you give. If that’s actually the case, what will I get after you’ve stolen my hair tie?”

You just bought a new pack of them, too. The urge to head to your room to see if they’ve all been swiped from your vanity is strong, but the will to stay still is stronger.

He grins largely, the pale skin on his neck pulling taut as your glance falls to the Fibonacci spiral. That was the first tattoo he got after receiving the hefty commission that comes with being a member of the Order. It seems to glisten with small beads of perspiration, and you’re surprised the only enemy that triggers him to break out into a sweat is this unbearable weather.

“Well, I figured my presence was enough for you. Maybe more than enough, even.”

The snort that leaves you is less than graceful. “That’s a line all your targets must love hearing.”

He hums, stroking his chin. “I wouldn’t know, since I just came up with it today, and I took the day off.”

“You said today was a long work day.”

“Did I?” His carefree laugh sounds like chimes rustling in the soft wind. “Ah, you know me, I always take the week off for my birthday.”

“You’ve never done that.”

“It’s a new tradition. Thought it would be fitting with the little wedding happening in a few days.” His fingers lock together when he places them atop his chest, exhaling a wistful sigh. “Sakamoto-kun, getting married! They grow up so fast.”

Your body tenses at that. You know it should be good news–you’re happy for Sakamoto, too. It’s the implications that come with marrying a civilian that makes you worry.

Hyo brought it up during the last time he stopped by the shop, needing to pick up domoic acid for a mission; the sight of one of the tallest men you’ve seen cradling a miniature bottle would’ve provided more comic relief were it not for his questions that followed. When he commented that the quiet man was taking more time off and following through on fewer assignments, you figured he was mildly complaining about the need for other Order members to pick up his slack. Then he asked when was the last time you talked to Sakamoto.  

It would’ve seemed random–especially since you and Hyo seldom discuss anything beyond fragrances and poisons–had you not made that unspoken agreement with Nagumo months ago. Since that night, you’ve been careful with running into Sakamoto, or any 7-Eleven for that matter. 

And from what Nagumo has told you, no one else in the Order knows about Aoi, much less the fact that you two have met her. You hope it stays that way. The last thing this wedding needs is a splash of red.

Especially when you know the JAA doesn’t take well to assassins exposing the cracks in the association’s carefully constructed structure, and particularly when those who disrespect the rules causes others to question whether they could do the same. Almost two years have passed since Yotsumura’s defection, but his absence still looms over like a dark cloud in the distance that no one wants to acknowledge. The members first pointing out the fresh jagged scar on Shishiba’s chin was the last time anything connected to the founder of the Order was mentioned. 

His death serves a dull, painful reminder. A threat. Yotsumura was the one who hired you as a poisons expert retainer for his organization, a deal you only accepted after he assured you that you were chosen not because of Nagumo’s unabating–and Sakamoto’s sporadic–recommendations, but solely for recreating a highly coveted poison that was last made by your father. (“I don’t trust those two and I’m not the type to do favors. Besides, people who can make decent poisons are short in numbers these days.)

If the JAA treated their former No. 2 man like that, you fear how they might dispose of others who forget their loyalty. It’s a warning those like Hyo heed, and those like Sakamoto will ignore, especially if it contradicts what they want. 

So with Hyo being such a stickler for the rules, you simply shrugged at his question before changing the subject. If anyone is going to announce a JAA violation, it should be Sakamoto himself. Your job requires you to be okay with helping others kill, a fact you’ve never challenged, but you refuse to cause the death of an innocent civilian.

Thankfully, Hyo didn’t think much of your lack of an answer. Maybe he caught the visible discomfort in your shifting figure before dropping the topic, asking how your grandparents were instead. You sincerely hope his soft side–which you swear you’ve seen before–allows him to be more understanding of this delicate situation Sakamoto’s placed himself in. 

But the real concern lies in how long everyone will continue believing this false narrative that one of the country’s most formidable assassins won’t call it quits the minute he gets hitched to a normie.

“I still can’t believe it,” you say after a hot minute, eyes fixed back onto the ceiling. “They seem like complete opposites.”

Nagumos laughs, sounding quite amused. “Well, you’re definitely convinced they’ll stay together…”

“It’s not that, I just–” Where are you going with this? “Marriage is such a foreign concept to me.”

Even the way the word rolls off your tongue feels weird. Sounds off. 

“Foreign? Haven't you been to a wedding before?”

“Have you?”

Although he doesn’t respond right away, you can feel him burning holes into your face. 

You continue to stare straight above. 

“Well, I guess I crashed one, but that counts, right?” He bites his lip in contemplation. “The bride didn’t appreciate me killing the groom before their photoshoot, though.”

It takes restraint to not laugh darkly at what you ideally hope is a joke, but are cynically aware could very likely be the truth. “Gee, I wonder why…”

“Anyway, you act as if people in our profession don’t get married.”

“They don’t.” You won’t. At least, you don’t think you will. But telling him that feels wrong, so you stick with the unpleasant, sour taste in your mouth.

“And your parents? Mine?”

You can’t recall the last time he’s mentioned his parents. In fact, you don’t think he’s ever brought them up before.

“I mean, married to civilians.”

The sound of the fan whirring back to life makes you switch your gaze back to the floor. To Nagumo positioning the petite contraption next to your face.

“Man, this heat has you all depressed! We gotta make sure you’re not behaving like this at the wedding–no one likes a party pooper.”

“Nagumo, be serious for once,” you plead wearily, hating that it sounds like you’re whining.

“Oh man, I can’t be the only one feeling this sense of deja vu!”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t be daft. Haven’t we talked about this before?” There’s a mirthful glint in his gaze that accompanies that teasing tone.

Right, the ‘tranquil’ nightly stroll featuring a civil conversation that felt more like some absurd ultimatum. “Not to the extent we should’ve.”

“Hmm, I remember calling it silly. A tad foolish. Ridiculous, sure. What else will fit…I’ll have to pull out a thesaurus at this rate.”

“I’m worried for her.”

He immediately stops ticking off his senseless list of words, sharp eyes studying your concern. “Hah! Worried? Come on, you know he’ll protect her. Will probably teach her a few moves, or maybe it’s the other way around. He did mention that she’s a Bruce Lee fan.”

The steady thrum of the spinning fan matches the rapid beats of your heart as you look at him imploringly. “And you know that’s not what I’m concerned about.”

His lips press firmly, a sudden grim expression saying more than his words ever could.

Nagumo may be as skillful as Sakamoto, perhaps even more adept than his old friend, yet his inability to move on hinders him. He can lie about no longer being affected by it. Can masterfully hide his need for closure. But any hypocrite can spot when someone else is relying on the methods they also use.

He’s like you, in that way. The thought strikes your head so abruptly it begins to ache.

It’s his turn to look up, hands behind his head as he sighs. “It’ll be okay! Seriously. She trusts him.”

“As if that’s enough.” In this world, it isn’t. If Sakamoto attempts to leave, it will only follow him. 

He has to be aware of this. Right? Blind trust is reserved for idiots who enjoy getting hurt.

“Hmm, who’s to say? But being so guarded sure makes for a boring life.”

Your stomach twists into knots, cognizant of who that’s directed toward. “At least it guarantees safety.”

“Please,” he chides, not unkindly, “then why stick to poison-making? And nothing in life is guaranteed. You know that more than anyone.”

He must catch your slight wince–of course he does, who are you kidding?–because he quickly adds on, a bit higher in pitch and certainly more lively than how you’re feeling, “One never knows when there’s an assassin about to cut off your head, after all!”

“I’m talking about Aoi, here.” Yet you aren’t fooling anyone with how defensive you sound.

“You really are the worst liar I know.” He turns his body to face you in the same direction, calling your name when you’re reluctant to do the same. His voice is so quiet your ears strain to hear the low mumble. “What are you so afraid of?”

It doesn’t help that when you close your eyes, you only see her face. Can even vividly picture every single strand of blue hair that hides the tiny dark flecks in those annoyingly golden eyes.

This really is the last conversation you want to have with anyone, least of all him. 

You suck in a short breath before rolling to your side, growing increasingly aware of how stuffy the room feels. How close he is to you. 

“I’m not afraid, I’m…” You falter. “I’m just tired of losing people.” 

Your face burns as you continue to be met with silence, a quiet that you doubt with how loudly your heart pounds against your ribs. The confession is incredibly shameful to say aloud, considering what you do for a living. It’s more embarrassing to admit it to another person, specifically to someone who will undoubtedly respond with one of his classic facetious remarks. (Though you argue such a reply is warranted.) 

But still, finally getting it out in the open, after sitting with it for so long, makes you feel a bit less lonely. 

He doesn’t say anything, his uncharacteristically sober gaze searching yours.

You feel him grab your hand gently, your muscles initially flexed when you see him place it on top of his cheek.

Yet there’s no other resistance on your end, and you’re frightened by how quickly your body reacts to the movement. Your palm even seems to have a mind of its own with the way it cups his face immediately. As if some primordial instinct just kicked in.

Nagumo stays still as your fingers trace soft lines across his smooth skin. From the delicate slope of his nose and the high set of cheekbones to the sharp edge of his jaw and the long lashes that frame round, dark eyes. Eyes that hold a void you’re never able to tap yourself into, unless you risk getting sucked into that black hole. 

You feel starved, unable to stop admiring a beauty so alluring. Inviting. He’s warm to the touch. 

Alive. 

And despite your brain reminding you that he’s here, right in front of you, another part of you can’t believe it until you’ve committed every feature to memory. The intimate action requires all your concentration that you nearly forget the light trail of sweat forming at the back of your neck, or the insufferable heat threatening to swallow you two whole.

Your fingers hover right above his lips with a slight waver, though you unabashedly stare at them and the way they twist upwards when he catches you in the act. 

“Go out with me.”

A mere whisper, terribly low that if you aren’t sharing the same breaths you might’ve missed it.

It feels like you just got the wind knocked out of you. Looking up, you blink away the reverie you slipped yourself into, trying your best to forget the moment when those exact same words were said by someone else so long ago. “What?”

“Go out with me,” he repeats, a bit louder this time, and that’s when you notice his hand is on your hip. “We can go to the wedding together. Be the hottest couple.” He pauses, thinking that over again. “Well, second hottest, I suppose. That’s what we’d tell them, anyway.”

You’d laugh from the shock of it all if it weren’t for your unsteady heart attempting to jump out of your chest. “How…forward of you.”

Even his snorts are graceful. “You say that as if it’s a new trait of mine.”

“That’s because I don’t know what else to say.”

He smiles enthusiastically, and there’s a rare hint of nervousness to its boyish character. “How about ‘yes’? That’s not only the easiest answer but the right one, especially for the birthday boy.”

“Hey, you can’t pull that card.” You’re surprised your racing mind can currently form a coherent sentence. “Not yet, at least.”

His eyes crease with the smug smirk playing on his lips. “Huh, I guess you’re right. Not that I need to use it. Because we both know you feel it, too.”

The tip of his thumb skirts under your shirt and a shiver wracks your body from the contact. 

To steady the slight tremor in your hand, you flatten your palm against his face. Grasping fingers find purchase in his hair, a light exhale falling past your lips upon realizing how soft it is. Uncaring for how you cause it to fall loose from the tied knot. You know you shouldn’t, that you should stop. But it’s the only thing grounding you at the moment.

You can see your conflicted expression reflected in those big brown eyes that you get lured into far easily. The cascading sunlight makes them appear as a rich, coppery chestnut you can’t, or rather, don’t want to tear yourself away from.  

For a brief second, you can picture it clearly, can sense it with every fiber of your being. His comforting embrace after a long, tiresome day. The curve of his lips against your own. Entwining his hands with yours. Taking in his scent until you can distinguish no other. Him having you all to himself and you having him all to yourself. Where no one else, no thing can reach. The image is so vivid that you can touch it with a stretch of your arm, feel it brush against the edge of your fingertips. Closing your eyes, you feel yourself lean in, almost allow yourself to give in, to be swept by the grandeur of it all.

Almost.

You’re not sure what exactly pulls you back, but the uneasy dread that begins pooling in your stomach becomes harder to ignore with each sharp breath. You swallow the lump in your throat, a dull ache in your heart as you painfully pry your heavy hand off him and shake your head.

“I can’t.” Air leaves your chest. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

The instant those words leave your mouth you know you’ve made a mistake. You desperately wish you could tell him why–to provide him some sort of explanation beyond the half-assed ‘it feels wrong’. Or at least something, anything, that doesn’t teeter between the straight razor edge of unnecessarily cruel and downright insane.

But when his smile no longer reaches his eyes, you doubt a clarification would’ve prevented him looking this sad. 

And then it’s gone in an instant. His well-worn mask is back on, the sunny disposition written so well across his face you wonder if the slightest inkling of disappointment was simply a figment of your imagination. 

He truly is a master of his craft. 

The room suddenly feels frigid and sterile, and panic begins to rise in your chest the moment he starts getting up. 

You find yourself standing, lamely trailing behind as he begins to open the door. “Wait, hold on–”

“Now, no need to look so guilty,” he says casually, back facing towards you. He tilts his head so you can only catch a glimpse of his face. Save for the thin stretch of his lips, you can’t begin to read his expression, much less fathom what’s going on in that head of his. “Not when I was just kidding!”

The cheerful delivery of that last line sounds so feigned you much prefer being stabbed in the gut multiple times than being the one to blame for all this. 

“Nagumo,” you try once again, voice getting weaker, “We should talk about this.”

He’s less than a few steps away from you but you’ve never felt this distant from him. You hate how good he is at making it seem like you’re an acquaintance he can now cross off his yearly check-in quota. Oceans apart would be a generous underestimate.

“See you at the wedding!”

The door closes before you can register that he’s left, not giving you the chance to study even the slightest change in his face. 

Then again, you don’t think you’ve ever been able to read past his facade. 

In such a short amount of time, everything seems to have flipped upside down, anxiety gripping its claws into you while you pace back and forth in search of a solution. You worry it might be too late to mend the gaping hole you recklessly created. 

In your frenetic pacing, your shoulder bumps into the wall, two pictures no longer in view as they fall onto the floor. The shattered glass punctures the silence that weighs in the air. Cursing under your breath, you bend down, careful to not cut yourself with the broken shards as you pick up the first photo and stare at the four people looking right back at you. 

It was Asami’s first photograph on the new digital camera you had gifted her for her birthday. She told all of you to smile and look at the fancy device, but (shockingly) only you, the poisons student who treated a lab manual like scripture, followed her instructions. 

Sakamoto ended up blinking in this one, and the last time you checked, a frown was not a smile. A squinting Akao was right next to him and to your left. Her black jacket slipped past her shoulders as she poked Nagumo in the cheek after she caught him wiggling his hand behind your head with two fingers up. One of his eyes was closed, the other one looking at you, but at least he was grinning from ear to ear. You can’t even remember what she was shouting at him, her open mouth–with the slightest upward curve at the corner if you examine it long enough–remaining frozen in time. All you can recall is their bickering making you laugh hard enough that your smile felt effortless. 

You try your hardest not to cry but realize it’s a lost cause when a teardrop dampens the photo paper.

[crownedghostprince]

Two Queens on a Chessboard (Descendants) pt 1

Evie x Female!Reader.

Fandom: Descendants.

(Y/N) is the daughter of Snow White.  She’s been attending Auradon High for a little while now and Prince Ben, (the future King of Auradon) just declared he’ll be bringing over four VKs (Villain Kids) to help them choose their own destinies and not what their parents want for them.  (Y/N) loves all things girly, cute, pink and fun...but she didn’t know “all things girly” included liking girls themselves.

Requests: Closed. Requested: no.

Warning(s): None, this is just a cute, gay romantic and fluffy story.

Note: In this Evie is not at all related to Snow White or anything, as in this Timeline the Evil Queen did not marry Snow White’s father.  Instead, she attempted to date her father and when he died he left a will claiming her to be trustworthy of everything he possessed until his daughter (Snow White) was of age to inherit it all (18) and that’s how the story goes in this world. 

I hope that’s not confusing and enjoy!

Word Count: 2,700+ (roughly)

[First Person Perspective]

(This incredible picture of Evie belongs to ‘lilicohirukoma’  on Tumblr.  Check her out, she has some fun relogs and other posts!)

I carefully observed as birds glided effortlessly across the sky, flapping their wings against the warm sun.  The sunlight drifted through my open window, lighting up my sketchbooks and coloured pencils.  I did my best to keep the wind from blowing my reference pictures off my desk as I drew the parrots above to the best of my ability.  Their coloured feathers that lit up the world as they passed it by were my favourite thing about them.  I was supposed to be getting dressed for the day, or at least doing something more productive, but I felt too at peace to move.

It took my mother knocking at my door to get me away from my desk to let her in.  Her pale skin came into view as the door swung open.  I reluctantly met her brown eyes as she spoke, clearly upset, “(Y/N) you should be dressed already!  I don’t care for these Villain Kids, or whatever Prince Ben is planning with them, but I’ll be damned if I let you leave the house not looking like royalty.  I swear, sometimes you forget you’re my daughter.”  She scolded, entering my room and shutting the door behind us so she could dress me in the outfit I chose.  “Look at this!  It’s so pink the pink tax could charge you twice for it!”

“Very funny, mother.”  I rolled my eyes and started to undress, letting her pull the pink dress over my head as she continued to comment on it.  While we were both distracted a couple of the parrots from earlier flew to the windowsill and watched.

“There’s so many frills I can’t see the bloody hem!  Do you think they added enough sparkles?  I swear this dress has more sparkles than the Fairy Godmother’s magic spells.”

“I think it’s a charming dress.”

“Charming?  Charming would be blinded by this dress’ glow!”  She scoffed, continuing to do up the corset and back bow.  The dress I chose to meet the Villain Kids in was a cute 1950s, Rock ‘n’ Roll inspired dress with the skirt reaching my knees with lots of frills, a bow in the back and lots of sparkles.  The top part of the dress was shaped with a scoop neckline and a simpler design aside from the corset so the skirt could catch people’s eyes first.  The skirt was the main focus of the dress and the top simply blended quite nicely.

I had chosen matching pink high heels, my nails were done with an almond shape in a very light pink colour.  Imagine white but with a tinge of pink, that’s the colour.  I was in love with the outfit and I even did my hair in a cute 1950s curly side bun hairstyle with a cute pink bow in my hair.  Can you tell I love pink?  I chose silver jewelry to match, a simple necklace and bracelet and some studded earrings.

But back to the present moment, my mother had finished doing up my corset and my outfit was finished with the added jewelry that she helped me put on.  She looked me up and down and shook her head.  “How did we go from my blue and yellow to your blinding pink?”  She sighed, putting her hand to her cheek as she tilted her head.  She doesn’t like pink all that much, she says only Aurora and her child, Audrey, should dress in pink as it’s ‘their colours’.

“Mother, you know I’m not a big fan of yellow.  Besides, I do wear blue!  I was just in a pink mood today.”  I explained even though we’ve had this conversation many times.

“I know, darling.  I just sometimes wonder who you get your personality from.  You don’t really act like your father or I at all.”  She stated completely ignoring that fact that I do many things she did at 17 years of age.  I guess she just blocked out those memories like most parents.

“Well, sometimes a little sugar needs some spice.”  I simply replied by saying our phrase.  She was always considered the sweetest princess and queen, which she was, and when I grew up to be quite more lively and sassy I was nicknamed her ‘spice’.

“Well, Little Miss Spice better grab her purse and leave for school if she wants to meet those Villain Kids so badly.”  She smiled.  I returned her smile and we both turned to my desk where my pink purse was and we noticed our audience.  The two parrots from earlier were there, but a squirrel, a bluebird and a doe had joined the window, watching with interest.

Like my mother, I naturally attracted animals and got along wonderfully with them.  But sometimes it was a bit unnerving to realize you’re never truly alone when you live right near the forest.  Oh, right, we live on the edge of Auradon, just outside a magnificent forest filled with many creatures - magical and non-magical - in a cozy castle.  It was more a mansion styled as a castle, but the comment stands.

“I’ll, uhm, be on my way then.”  I cleared my throat and grabbed my purse, giving the animals all a pet before turning back to my mother.  She sighed and gave me a quick hug, being careful not to smudge my makeup and eyeliner.

“Just promise me you’ll be safe and you won’t get too close to any of those children.”  She looked at me sternly.  Although it would be more intimidating if she wasn’t slightly shorter than me.

“I promise, mother.”  I smiled and kissed her forehead before jogging out the door and waving, “Bye!!  I’ll see you tonight!”  I skipped down the halls and a couple of the house mice joined me before running from our cat, Sherlock.

♡ ~~~~~~ ♡   

Finally, I arrived via limo to Auradon High.  Kids my age had already started gathering and the band was practicing before the kids arrived.  I stepped out, “Thank-you, Mister Desmond!”

“Have a lovely day at school, Miss White.”  He waved with his soft smile.

“I will!  Goodbye!”  I closed the door and skipped up to my two best friends: Jane and Elin.  Jane was the daughter of the Fairy Godmother and Elin was the daughter of Elsa.  Elin has ice powers like her mother, except her powers are smaller in scale and easier for her to control.  Well that’s what she told me, but I’ll never know for sure.  “Hey, Elin!  Hey, Jane!”  I called, finally skipping up to them.

“Hey, (Y/N)!”  They both greeted - Jane a little more nervous than Elin.

“Are you excited to meet the VKs?”  Elin asked excitedly.  Her soft blue eyes lit up as she smiled and finished braiding her white hair.  It was pretty long so it took her some time but it was always so worth it.  She was almost as good as Rapunzel’s daughter when it came to braiding hair.

“I’m really excited to meet them! I really hope they don’t cause us any trouble...I feel like they’ll be really cool to befriend!”  I answered, bouncing up and down a little.

“I’m not thrilled.  I hope they leave as quickly as they come.”  Jane gulped, nervously picking at her fingernails - an anxious habit she’d had for a while now.  I took her hands and squeezed them slightly.

“Don’t worry I’m sure they won’t bother us much.  They’ll probably think we’re all too prissy and princess-y to be worth bothering.”  I reassured her.  She smiled slightly but still looked worried.

“I’m more concerned about my mother forcing me to meet them and be near them more than I would like...”  She whispered uncertainly.  We both looked over at her mother who stood beside Prince Ben and his girlfriend Audrey at the front of the gathering, just in front of the band.  My mouth formed an ‘O’ shape as I realized what she meant.

Her mother was always so extroverted and confident and Jane was the total opposite, being more on the shy and reserved side.  “I’m sure she’ll take it easy on you, vennen.”  (Darling)  Elin reassured her in her thick Norwegian accent, placing her hands on Jane’s shoulders and giving her a little playful shake which elicited a little giggle from Jane.  “Besides, if you stick with us, we’ll protect you from them!”  Elin grinned and gave the air a couple fake punches to prove her point.

“Yeah!  And I’ll wear so much pink it would make any Villain gag from 30 meters away!”  I laughed and Jane cracked a smile.  Before any of us could joke around any more a hush fell over the group as Fairy Godmother clapped her hands three times like a primary school teacher and then shouted orders.

“Everyone hush!!  Listening ears and smiling faces on!  They’re coming down now!  Look bright and lively everybody!  Here we go!!”  She cheered and we all did our best to match her over bubbly personality.  Jane passed Elin and I some small flags made for occasions like this.  We excitedly waved them in the air as everyone cheered and the band started up once again.  It wasn’t the best welcome song, but it was pretty impressive considering they’d only had a week until now to practice.

The limo pulled up and the chauffeur opened the door.  We watched two boys tumble out, hushing us all with their arguing and battle for some piece of cloth.  Eventually a purple-haired woman stepped out and then followed a gorgeous blue-haired woman.  Her outfit, her hair, her smile - she was absolutely adorable.  I couldn’t stop staring and Elin had to physically close my dropped jaw with her hand.

Elin chuckled and gave me a discreet thumbs up, having hinted at me being bisexual in the past.  But...I always denied it.  I blushed and avoided eye-contact, my eyes slowly drifting back to the gorgeous girl rocking a stunning blue outfit and looking like she was a princess straight out of a fairy tale book.  I was especially in awe of her style.  She clearly had a good sense of fashion and she held her head high with confidence as she walked.

Her dress was a strange, but gorgeous, mix of leather with a blue jeans-inspired design and something similar to what the ‘Evil Queen��� from my mother’s past would wear.  She had a cute headband that matched and her whole outfit looked handmade, down to every seam.  She wore a contrasting red apple necklace; black, finger-less gloves and matching black and white tights.  Finally, I noticed how her hair was slightly curled, a bit like mine currently was, but her hair was fully let down and swayed in the gentle breeze.  She seemed ecstatic to be here and looked at everything like a small child seeing their biggest wish come true.

Elin snapped me out of my daze once again and we all watched as Fairy Godmother greeted them with her usual happy-go-lucky, primary school teacher attitude and then she introduced Prince Ben and Princess Audrey.  Prince Ben made sure to greet them all individually by shaking their hands and welcoming them, pausing a bit on the purple-haired woman and then continuing on afterwards.  I couldn’t see Audrey’s face but ever since her betrothal to Prince Ben I assumed she was pissed he wasn’t giving her all his attention.

Although that sounds ridiculous, I know Audrey very well.  She’s a very arrogant, ignorant woman who loves power and fame and money.  She cares little for other people, especially those actually in need of aid.  I remember watching once as she offered no food to a begging woman.  I made sure to buy some extra bread and cheese for the lady.  It wasn’t much, but she was thankful and that made me smile.  But for Audrey to pass her by without even acknowledging her?  Horrible.

We watched as Fairy Godmother wrapped it up and finished talking with everyone.  Prince Ben and Princess Audrey began leading them to the school, giving them a bit of a tour and talking about the history whilst everyone else in the area scattered and cleaned up any confetti.  I caught eyes with the beautiful blue-haired woman and we both paused for a second.  Even from a distance I could tell she was the daughter of The Evil Queen and she could probably tell I was Snow White’s daughter.  I felt my cheeks heat up and all I could do was smile, curtsy and wink and then quickly catch up with my friends.

♡ ~~~~~~ ♡  

“Pleaseee that was so embarrassingggg!!!”  I whined into Elin’s pillow.  Elin laughed in amusement from her office chair.  Elin was staying in a dorm room with Jane at the school as she travelled very far to attend and Jane stayed in the dorm room because she hated travelling such a long distance to school every day.

“I’m sure she found it cute, vennen min.”  (My friend) Elin shook her head as she spoke.  I looked up from the pillow more and stared pointedly.

“I assure you she probably did not, liebling.”  (Darling)  I tossed the pillow back onto her bed before standing up from the floor.  I brushed my clothing off and checked how I looked in Jane’s vanity mirror.

“How do you know?  You don’t!  In fact...there’s only one way of truly knowing.”  Elin grinned.  I watched her from the mirror as I fixed up my makeup before deciding to ask the dreaded question.

“And...how would I go about finding that out?”  I turned around and Elin stood up excitedly.

“At school tomorrow,” She grabbed my shoulders, “Introduce yourself and get to know her.”

“I--...I mean you’re not wrong, but...how would I even go about approaching her?”

“Well if you see you share a class, greet her then!  Maybe when you’re both leaving and also see what other classes you share!”

“Elin, mausebär.  (Mouse)  That’s incredible thinking!  You’re absolutely right!  I can just meet her at classes and then move from there!”  Elin and I giddily did a little dance on the spot.

“That’s the spirit!!  Overcome your fears!”  She cheered, her soft blue eyes sparkling with delight.  She began tossing little snowflakes above us like confetti.  “Jippi!��  (Yay)  She cheered.

We spent the rest of our time together with Jane, enjoying our lunches, joking and dancing around and doing each others hair whilst watching some movies like ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ and ‘Gentlemen Prefer Blondes’.  We had a lot of fun like we originally planned.  This day spent together and movie night is how we usually spend our last day before school.  My mother’s fine with me staying out until midnight, so I was able to do that again.

I tiredly said my goodbyes to Elin and Jane, hugging them both before I followed Fairy Godmother to the front door of the school.  We talked quietly, careful of the sleeping students.  “I’m glad you and Elin are friends with Jane.”  She smiled softly, looking up at the moon as we waited for Mister Desmond to arrive.  “She’s so shy and closed off.  I still remember the day she came home from middle school, ecstatic and talking fast.  She was so happy to have friends she didn’t say a single word correctly.”

I grinned, remembering how I first met Jane by walking into a wall right in front of her and balling my eyes out immediately at the slightest drop of blood that was created by the impact.  She’d always been such a kind person.  She leapt straight into making sure I was okay, screaming for Elin to help us both when poor Elin herself was lost.  Luckily our gym teacher was nearby and helped us get to the nurse’s office where we all sat crying and apologizing.

It was a silly way to meet, but I wouldn’t change it for anything else in the world.  I was so distracted talking to Fairy Godmother and thinking back on my childhood days with Elin and Jane, I completed missed the four students hiding in a bush just outside the school - waiting for us to leave so they could sneak back inside.  When I finally spoke up to Fairy Godmother about how we met, as Jane never coherently told her mother, I also missed Evie’s soft smile as she pictured the scenario I was describing.

It was a perfect night and a perfect start to a new school year...and a future relationship.

♡ ~~~~~~ ♡

(Part 2 coming soon!)

[giggly-squiggily]

#Fc89ac (Cupid's Parasite)

Heyo! So...I might or might not be addicted to Cupid's Parasite...

Nah but really; Y'ALL! I've started playing it recently and my goodness Ryuki is the best! (Granted as of writing this I'll have likely finished the game if not most of it so it's up in the air on who'll truly be my favorite) His route was so fun and addictive and just- YESH! I wanted to write something for him and Lynette and that's exactly what I did lols. I hope you like it! :D

Summary: Ryuki's struggling with his latest design and what color to make it. Lynette helps through unconventional ways.

#fc8eac…#ffc1cc…#ff6ec7…

Lynette scrolled through her search history with a small laugh, shaking her head. Since she fell in love with the fashion designer, it seemed like this was all she ever looked up. Not that she minded it of course; she loved her boyfriend with her entire heart- even if she had to look up several of the colors he mentioned on a daily basis.

Recently it seemed he was stuck on the color pink- his sketchbook filled to the brim with various dresses and skirt designs with various notes and hexadecimals. Around one particular dress several of the numbers were crossed out and re-written, a sign this particular garment was driving Ryuki insane. “No, that’s not it…it’s too muted.”

Another hexadecimal. Lynette tapped it into her phone to find “Soft Pink”. It was lovely. “I like it. It’s pretty.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t really go with the theme of the outfit.” Ryuki scowled down at the paper, narrowing his eyes. “Everything’s either too muted or too bright- I need something in the middle.”

Rolling onto her stomach, Lynette used her arms as a pillow as she peeked at his work. Unsurprisingly, the dress was gorgeous- flowy and fun with a mix of both western and japanese elements incorporated. “Wow, it’s so beautiful!”

“You haven’t been truly wowed yet- wait until you see what it’ll look like in person.” A touch of pride entered Ryuki’s voice as he puffed, starting to smile. Then that smile dropped as he looked at his endless bouts of notes. “If we ever get there, that is.”

Not good. Lynette sat up and clapped her hands. “Break time! Maybe you need to step back and revisit it with some fresh eyes?”

Ryuki looked ready to argue, but he gave in with a sigh after meeting her raised brow. “Maybe.” Closing the sketchbook, he moved everything aside and gave a small stretch. “But just for five minutes- then I’m going right back i-EH!”

“Fifthteen minutes. I demand a proper break.” Lynette argued, poking him in the ribs. “We’re having green tea and snacks- maybe even a walk.” She poked him again and again, watching him twitch and scrunch beneath her finger. “We can hunt down a crepe stand. They’re usually out this time of year.”

“H-How is tha-ahat gonna gehet done in fi-fiihfthteen mi-inutes?” Ryuki yelped between jabs, grabbing at her wrists as he thought down giggles. “Stop thahat!”

“Well, we’ll just have to take as long as we need, won’t we?” She teased, bringing her other hand in when he refused to release her. Scooting closer, she quickly scribbled into his open side, making him yelp and fall backwards. “You’ve been working on your designs all morning. Five minutes away isn’t gonna be enough.”

“Ihiihiht’ll be pleaahhanty! Geahhaha, Lynaehehehehhette!” Ryuki didn’t have the strength to remain sitting up, crashing unceremoniously against the pillows as he batted at her hands. “Cuhuhhuhut it ohoohoohohut, I’m wohoohhoohrking!”

“Noooo!” She cried back in glee, giggling up a storm as she threw herself across his torso. Her fingers danced up and down his sides, kneading here and there to make him arch and yelp. “I’ll never stop! I’ll keep tickling you until you agree to take a break!”

“Thahahaht’s nohohohoht hahahappehehehening! Geahhahahaha!” Ryuki squeaked when her fingers dug into his highest ribs, making him arch within a sudden boost of mirth. “Dohohohohoohn’t nohohohohohohohohoo! Aheahahahahahha Lhihihihihihihiynehehehehehhehehette!”

“Oo, is this a bad spot?” She cooed at him, enjoying how pink his cheeks got. “It must be with how much you’re blushing! I could listen to you laugh all day long, cutie!”

“Shuhuhuhuht uuuhuhuhp! Iihihihi’m nohoohohohot cuhuuhuhuhte!” He argued through his laughter, trying his best to squeeze her hands out. “Thahahaht’s it- cohoohme here!” With a sudden burst of strength, he reached out and grabbed onto Lynette, flipping their positions. “Now you get what’s com-ehehehehe, nohohohoho!”

“Huh? What was that? What do I get?” She teased, wasting no time as she grabbed at his ribs once more. “You gotta move faster than this, Ryuki-kun! Hehehe!”

Unfortunately for her, Lynette’s reign of mischief was quickly ended.

“AH! Aheahhahahahha nohohoohohohoho!” She squealed when Ryuki managed to grab her side, squeezing rapidly. “Nohohoohoho fahahahhair, nohoohoho fahahhair yohoohohu son of ahahah-”

“Goohoht you nohohow, yoohohu-GAH DOHOOHN’T!”

“TAHHAKE THAHAHT!”

“BRIIHIHINHG IT OHOHON!”

Their “battle” continued on as they rolled around in the bed, sheets crinkling and pillows flying as they grabbed and prodded at any and every tickle spot they could find on eachother. By the end of it all, they were gasping for air, cheeks flushed and hair a mess as they laid side by side in their messy bedding.

“Sohoohoho who wohohohn?” Lynette gasped out, hair falling free from its braid like a halo of sakura blossoms. Ryuki reached out, brushing her bangs back with the gentlest of touches.

“Mehehehe, obvihihihously.” He snorted, making her smile. She was especially radiant today- her natural hue the softest of pinks. It reminded him of…

“#fc89ac.” He mused out loud, then blinked. “That’s it-”

Lynette watched him sit up, scrambling for his sketchbook. While he did so, she quietly pulled out her phone, searching up the number.

Tickle me pink. She barely stifled a laugh as the coincidence of it all.

“Yep, that’s it. That’s exactly what shade I was looking for.” Ryuki nodded, something relaxed entering his expression as he circled the hexadecimal with pride. “You’re truly brilliant. Thanks for all your help, Lynette.”

“Aww, you’re too sweet.” She giggled as she sat up, tucking her phone away. “Can I have a crepe as my reward? That tickle fight made me hungry.”

Ryuki blinked before bursting into laughter, unable to hide his amused smile. “You’re too cute! God- I love you so much.”

She’s heard him say it before so many times now, and the effect was still all the same. Her cheeks warmed and her heart raced at the words, making her entire being feel soft and tingly. “I love you too.”

The crepes they got soon after were extra tasty.

Thanks for reading!

[itsthestutterforme]

Hey Rebel 1/2 (Alpha!Ari Levinson x omega!reader)

Summary: Ari tags along on one of your missions, nearly jeopardizing it when he catches a whiff of your intoxicating scent.

Notes: GIF is not mine, this is not a beta’d read, A/B/O dynamics, reader is Afro!Latina and a CIA agent, reader is very bratty in this series

**

“I see the target,” you said through comms. The loud bass from the music reverberated in your ribs as you push passed a few people in the club.

The club was a lot more busy than you anticipated which made your mission quite easy for you.

You preferred to work alone on missions but with this particular target was violent and the two of you had history.

He killed your partner and made you watch. He kept you alive to continue the torment of know that your mistake had your partner killed.

Though he wasn’t just your partner, he was boyfriend at the time. His scent was everywhere in your apartment, and when it slowly started to disintegrate in spaces he would hang out the most, you wanted to tear your heart out.

When his clothes stopped smelling him and started smelling like you, you had nothing left of him but memories.

He wasn’t your mate necessarily, but you he made you feel safer than any of your previous boyfriends had.

His death put you in second gear on your missions. Your accuracy increased by 23% and you spent every waking minute in the gun range or in the gym. You were a forced to be reckoned with and quickly became Ethan’s favorite agent.

And Ethan couldn’t have his favorite girl off on a potential murder mission without backup.

So he sent in a newer agent with a promising record in shooting accuracy for support. And he sent in Ari, his other favorite.

If the target made your cover, he was as good as gone. So you put your pride aside and disguised as an exotic dancer.

It was the best chance to get close to the target without immediately getting made.

You tugged at the bottom strap of your solid gold top to alleviate some pressure on your ribs. You were sure they gave you a size smaller than you told them so your breasts are practically spilling out.

The bottom was a measly and thin, it was very obvious that it was made of leotard fabric and tailored it to be a bikini bottom.

You had absolutely no breathing room in this outfit. Every inch of skin on your body that could be visible is shown.

You’re not necessarily used to your sternum tattoo and your thigh tattoos being visible to the naked eye.

Continuing through the crowd, a man slapped your ass as he walked by making you immediately tense.

You looked over your shoulder at him, watching as he drank your figure in. One disgusting man isn’t going to jeopardize your mission, so you continued moving.

The mixed scents of designations with smoke and sweat made you nose blind to anything else so you didn’t bother sniffing.

You made eye contact with the newer agent when he started speaking on coms.

“I count five guards,” he says, pressing and adjusting his Bluetooth in his ear.

A scowl made its way onto your face when you saw a larger man in an all black suit look in the new agent’s direction.

He flagged down another man and they converse for a few paces, sending occasional glances in his direction.

Shit.

“Do me a favor and stop messing with your comms. You’ve been made. Go to the rendezvous point.” You commanded.

“I wasn’t made.” “Fine then I’ll let Tweetledee and Tweetledum take you into the back alley and beat you to a pulp,” you snap.

His eyes widen when the two large men push their way through the crowd and beelined straight for him.

“On it. Sorry.” He rushes out the back door with them hot on his tail.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you rolled your neck around until it cracked. “Maybe you should go easy on the kid,” Ari points out.

“I’m not going to let anyone jeopardize my mission, Romeo.” “Your mission?” you opened your mouth to respond when a man whistled over at you, motioning you to come over once you made eye contact.

“Care to give me a dance, sweetheart?” The man asks, pulling you into his lap and squeezing your waist eagerly.

“Anything you want,” Ari’s gaze darkened when he saw your hips moving sensually to the soft beat of the music.

You threw your head back, your box braids swaying around until the landed on your chest. The man pulled you even closer, scenting the sensitive skin below your ear.

A omega woman approached Ari with a tray full of drinks.

“May I offer you a drink, sir?” She bends down slightly so he could take a drink from his seated position.

“Thanks honey,” he took out his wallet and gave her a twenty for her consideration. Her hand caressed his palm when she gingerly took the bill from his hand.

She moved her hair to the side, exposing her unmarked gland. “I’m not interested,” he takes a sip of his bourbon once the omega moves away from him.

Ari hasn’t had genuine relationship with an omega that wasn’t sexual. He initially fell for the bullshit theory that philosophers create centuries ago about the match made in Heaven.

An alpha and an omega destined to be together by the Alpha Gods.

He quickly realized when he married Rachel that not every omega can spark that special connection.

Just because omegas weren’t easy to find in common society, doesn’t mean they’re all special. Now he’s found himself caught in a marriage because an omega got pregnant

Neither of them have filed for a divorce yet because of the immense amount of paperwork and money that would go into it.

Ari came to terms with the fact that his child spends more time with the babysitter than with her parents.

With him away on missions and Rachel spending every waking minute with her sugar daddy alpha, the kid doesn’t stand a chance at a normal childhood.

And it’s not like anything is going to change any time soon.

Ari was seated in a loveseat across the room for you. He watches you over the rim of his glass, still dancing on the man’s lap.

He tilts his head as he tried to decipher your thigh tattoos from behind.

“I didn’t realize how tatted you were, Juliet.” You rolled your eyes at Ari’s remark and had glanced over the man’s shoulder at the target.

Rumlow. You thought to yourself. The man he was meeting hasn’t up yet, but you needed to prepare yourself for when he does.

Your strategizing was cut short when the man cradled your neck, smoothing a hand over your gland.

You stopped your movements, narrowing your eyes directly into his. The smile slowly fell from his face and a low growl grumbled in your chest.

His hand slowly dropped from your gland and you snapped at him.

“Shit. I��m sorry,” he holds his hands up and you slid off his lap.

“Pig,” you walked away from him and made your way to the bar. You were going to be giving drinks for the rest of the night. Screw the dances.

“Well that wasn’t very nice,” “Fuck you, Romeo.” He smiles against the glass before downing the rest of the bourbon.

Ari couldn’t help but notice the frequent head turning from groups of men when you walk by. Followed by the sniffs in your general direction.

Ari had to admit, you had an interesting scent. Actually, there is no scent initially and no way of telling what designation you were.

The way you carried yourself, you could easily be mistaken for an alpha. But Ari had a sneaky suspicion that you weren’t an alpha.

You were an omega that took the strongest scent blockers he’s even heard.

He’s smelled your original scent before. It was a faint whiff, but he smelled it and he’s been drunk for it ever since.

He made the connect that you scent spikes through the scent blockers when you’re aggravated about something.

Luckily for him, he had a knack for being aggravating. Truth was, Ethan knew you were capable of doing this mission alone.

It was Ari who insisted on tagging along.

But you will never figure that out. Or maybe you will, you’re quite the sharp tool. “We have a long night ahead of us. So let’s just play nice.” Ari suggests.

“Don’t provoke me and maybe I will,”

You continued serving drinks, getting more and more annoyed with every slap on the ass you received.

Ari kept an eye on the door to any new faces turn up and after a while, you realized how quiet your comms have been.

It’s been dead silent for at least five minutes. And Ari never knew when to shut up so you knew something was wrong.

You looked around for Ari only to find him staring at you confusingly. You needed to talk to him but you couldn’t pull him aside.

Otherwise that would break your cover. Letting out a sigh, you set the tray of drinks down at the bar and made your way over to him.

“Follow my lead,” you said to him, putting your hand on his shoulder and sliding into his lap. He keeps his hands by his side as he looked at you attentively.

You held his gaze for a moment before moving your hips against him and rolling your body. “What happened to comms?”

“No idea,” he slowly slides down the seat, his hands gripping the arm rests for dear life.

“Do you know how long they were out?” “No,” he grunts. “Do you think they’re onto us?” “There’s a chance. Are they looking?”

You glanced over his shoulder and saw Rumlow with a dancer giving him a lap dance. He downs his drink and shakes his glass at the bartender.

You felt Ari’s body tense underneath you and you raised a brow at him.

“If you want this to be believable, I need you to touch me.” “I’m trying to be respectful,”

“Please. Don’t pretend like your eyes haven’t been glued to my ass all night, Romeo.” He licks his lips and rested his hands on your thighs.

The second his hand touched your bare thigh, you inhaled sharply. Heat spread from your thighs up your waist and chest, finally resting on your face.

Your mating gland throbbed painfully and you stopped moving against him. His grip on your thighs tightened when you tried to move off of him.

Ari groans as the same burning heat took over him, his gland pulsing at the same rhythm as yours.

Your heart sank in your chest when you made the realization. Your scent was spreading passed the scent blockers.

Ari’s hands move up your back and held you close, dipping his head to inhale your sweet scent of honeysuckle and warm honey.

You let out a fearful growl when the tip of his nose brushes the base of your throat.

Your heart continued to patter in your chest when you made eye contact with the group of betas looking over at you, sniffing in your general direction.

The anxiety caused your scent to spike and you attempted to leave his lap once again but he held you down.

“Let me go,” “If I let you go now, they will swarm you. Just trust me,” he says the last few words slowly, removing his grip from your back.

He takes a few deep breaths, moving your body with each breath. You looked over at the initial group of betas who crinkled their noses and looked away from you.

His husky scent of pine and sandalwood invaded your nose in strong wafts. He was masking your scent with his, staking an unwanted claim. You had matched your breathing to his, bring you out of your anxiousness.

You hadn’t realized you were digging your nails into his dress shirt. Releasing him from your grip, you slid off his lap.

And when you looked over at the target, he was gone. “Mission’s over,” you hugged your arms to your chest and beelined for the changing room before Ari could reach for you again.

He waited for you outside in the car and you had changed back into your black slacks and white blouse.

You had pulled your box braids into a low bun. Sliding into the passenger seat, you tossed your duffel bag in the bag and sent a text to the new agent letting him know you were on your way.

Ari watched you turn your face to look out the window once you send the text. You were actively avoid any interaction with him.

At least before you entertained him with snarky remarks and insults. This was much worse. He reverses out the back alley and onto the highway.

“So are we going to talk about what happened in there?”

“Nothing happened, Levinson.” “Bullshit. You felt something and it scared you.” “No I wasn’t. I was pissed that I missed another chance to take the some of a bitch down.”

“Yeah, sure.” He says skeptically. “Why do you take such strong scent blockers?”

“Because of what happened in there. I’ve always had an intoxicating scent. And it’s gotten me into a lot of trouble as a teenager so I suppress it.”

“It is very intoxicating,” another silence fell over the two of you and Ari looked at you but your gaze remained outside the window.

“You’re really not going to talk about it?” “No. I already have a lot on my plate with work. I don’t need this right now.”

“Our primal instinct doesn’t care about our human duties,” “You sound just like those ancient men in those history books,” you dismiss.

“Look at me,” “No,” “Look at me, omega.” “You’re not my Alpha. You don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I just want to talk to you.” “There’s nothing to talk about,” “Yes, there is. Stop dismissing everything, Y/N. This is serious.”

And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

You looked away from the window and said, “How serious is this, Ari? Hm? Is it life or death? Or just some stupid reason for Alphas to have complete control of another living being?”

You poked harshly at his arm and he growled at the tone you used and you emitted a growl low enough to make your chest vibrate.

“Y/N,” he warns. “I am not an omega you can just claim, Ari. If you try, I will make sure to make your life a living hell. So just drop it.”

You held his gaze for a few seconds before returning your gaze back out of the window. Ari made the conclusion like this was nothing like how they described it in the history books.

If you truly was his mate, then how the hell was he going to prove that to you? He had better luck finding a needle in a haystack.

**

Ari wasn’t sure what to do about pursuing you. Your inner omega was aggressive and untamed despite your calm human nature. You were strong for an omega and you made it clear that you had to be earned.

He spent weeks bring your flowers, contacting some of your coworkers to learn your favorite foods and wines. You didn’t trust him at all, but you decided to give him somewhat of a chance.

He took you on a date on horseback. Once he found out you grew up in el campo, he immediately researched the nearest horseback riding stable and booked a session.

He wanted to know as much about you as possible. From you of course, but you’ve been keeping him at arm’s length since you met him.

When he tried to lean in to kiss you after the date, you growled at him and retreated back into your house, leaving him completely dumbfounded on your porch.

You kept him on his toes, which encourages the chase. But Ari’s concern is that you never stop running from him.

That he won’t get the chance to catch you and he’ll lose you forever.

The last thing he had to remember between you was an argument. It was the day before he was set to leave for Ethiopia and wanted to see you before he left.

He would have been gone for weeks at a time and there was no telling when he would be back.

You were pissed because he hid the fact the was married from you. He thought you knew from Ethan but you hadn’t.

He replayed your argument almost daily in his head up until the drive back to your place after the assignment; his face would heat up at the mere thought of it.

“When were you going to tell me? Were you even going to tell me?” “Of course, I was- I thought you already knew.”

You scoffed and turned away from him to walk into your kitchen. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have given you the time of day.”

You took a glass from the cabinet and poured a bourbon on the rocks. “You barely give me the time of day now,”

“Any normal person would have gotten the hint by now and move on,” “Then I guess I’m not a normal person,” you down the drink in one shot, making a face when the burn lingers.

“Ari, I really don’t think this is going to work. You’re married. You obviously married her because you had some sort of connection with her. So focus on repairing things with her instead of starting new with me,”

“No. There was never a connection. I did it out of obligation.” “So.. does that make me an obligation then?”

“I want to be with you, Y/N. We share a connection whether you want to or not. So stop being stubborn for once and allow it to happen.” He snaps.

You met his gaze from across the counter and let out a long breath. “I think you should focus on your mission for tomorrow,” you said after a long pause.

He huffs and presses the palms of his hands against the counter. “Okay,” he said softly and left your house.

You waited for the door to close to lean your head against the wall. He wasn’t going to go away. So that means you have to.

Ari was immediately concerned when he was greeted by a for sale sign in your front yard when he pulled into your driveway.

He left the flower he bought you in the passenger seat and ran up the stairs. The front door was locked so he went around back to check if the sliding glass door was open.

He sighed in relief when the door smoothly slid open. Everything was moved out from the house and your scent has faded out, even in your bedroom.

He bowed his head when he realized that you were gone for nearly as long as he was on assignment.

Where the hell did you go?

He pulls out his phone and clicked on an unsaved number. On the third ring, someone answered.

“Well isn’t this a surprise. How’s it going, sunshine?” Lloyd greets. “Lloyd, I need you to do something to me,” “Name it,”

[quinloki]

Positively Victorian Again

Sabo x afab reader

Cw: oral, fingering, glove kink, implied power dynamics, noble Sabo tones, ~ unedited, apologies for any major errors.

Notes: Not really a part two to Positively Victorian, but kind of a part two xD idk I need to just make this vibe a full on story at some point.

It’s a reward for both of us. His words rang in your head as you saw the state of the seat you were to take.

Plush and beautiful, rich hand carved wood, everything you could expect down to the small details of a seat meant for a noble to use during a long opera.

Except for the small fact that most of the seat was missing. Barely enough for your ass honestly. There was almost no back to it, but it was obvious both from the design and your outfit that your skirts were meant to go around it.

Aside from the required items to keep the shape and style of your layered, expensive dress, you has nothing else on beneath it. At Sabo’s request, of course, but when he had invited you to the opera, you had expected him only to tease you during the hours long production.

With words.

Moving the skirts with practiced ease you settled onto the strangely comfortable seat. You had to place your legs on the sides of the chair, in order to put yourself in a comfortable position, and you were acutely aware of how bare you were beneath it all.

“This box,” Sabo begins, sitting down beside you, and keeping his voice low. “Is a bit of a tragedy. The acoustics are almost as good as those from the stage. Normal conversation carries down to the seats below quite easily.”

He leans closer, speaking quietly into your ear. “It would be imprudent for me to nap on your skirts, my sweet dove, so when i find rest beneath them, do keep your… complaints quiet.”

You can feel your heart race at the implications, and take a minutes to calm yourself before replying.

“Naps during a show are imprudent on their own.” You tease. “Aren’t you meant to teach me manners, young lord?”

Sabo smiles, bright and charming. “Consider it a test.” He says, taking off his hat and stepping around behind you. “Control of one’s expressions and emotions are paramount.”

“Wait, where are you go- Sabo the play hasn’t even started.” You nearly hiss the words, a little bit of panic as he’s already lifting your skirts to sneak his way under them.

“Do keep your eyes forward,” he admonishes softly, leaning forward and kissing your neck softly and swiftly. “The second act tends to drag a little, and curious eyes will certainly wander during that time.”

“It’s three hours.” You nearly whine, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I’ll count how many times you cum, so just focus on the play.” He promises, disappearing under the seat and your skirts easily.

With a resigned sigh you shift your attention to the stage. You aren’t surprised to feel warm, gloved hands, against your legs. Of all the tricks he would pull to cause you to make noise, surprise wasn’t one of them.

His hands moved against your ankles, calves and thighs like he was mapping them out and committing their every curve to memory. It was pleasurable and relaxing and even as it had you needy for more, it allowed you to focus on the play.

If only a little.

Gloved thumbs slipped over bare labia, waxed smooth from a “punishment” a few days prior. Sabo had warned you about the price for stepping on his shoes while the two of you practiced dancing. The lesson had been useful, but it had also brought your relationship to a new level.

“I think I’ve moved my feet out of the way enough,” he’d said with a reluctant smile. “So do be careful going forward.”

You’d grinned. “I wondered why, no matter how I tried, I still hadn’t stepped on your foot… young lord.”

Sabo had paused the dance to regard you a moment, and you’d taken that chance to purposefully step on his shoe, grinding the toe of your shoe into his, defiant grin on your face.

He’d resumed dancing afterward, voice low and eyes sharp. “If my sweet dove desires punishment, she need only ask.”

You felt the shiver roll through you as he spread your labia apart, breath hot against your soaked folds. His fingers shift, gloved digits moving between your thighs, fingers hungrily pressing and sliding over the hot, slicked, tender intricacies of your vulva.

Your fingers tense, gripping your skirts as you try to keep your focus on the stage. You can feel him keeping you open, exposed, and you’re certain he’s simply staring.

A single finger against your clit pulls a soft shuddering breath from you, and your legs tense as it swirls in a lazy circle. For long minutes he teases you this way, and you can almost move the sensation to the back of your mind to focus on the stage.

Though not much interesting is happening now. A tepid conversation.

As the tension of the conversation builds, the tempo of Sabo’s finger rises, pressing heavier and rubbing you faster. With a little bit of dread you realize this bastard has the play memorized.

When the conversation on stage reaches its grand reveal, his fingers push into your pussy, rushing a soft gasp out of you in time with the surprised gasp of the theater crowd.

And so the play goes. Sabo teases you as the tension in the play builds, pleasing you roughly here and there as there are reveals and other peaks within the story. He edges you as the characters experience frustrations, and buries his face into your cunt suddenly, sucking and licking your clit as his fingers pump inside you.

The powerful orgasm hits you as the lead soprano’s note fills the theater. Your stifled moan is swallowed by the powerful sound - not that Sabo grants you any mercy afterward. He’s never satisfied with just one, pulling the first rush into a second.

Leaving you to sob with the audience as a sad scene in the third act leaves everyone in tears. Yours are from overstimulation, legs trembling as the third orgasm seems to earn you some small reprieve, Sabo’s tongue licking you clean gently, instead of rushing you to another crescendo.

Two more slowly built up orgasms leave you breathless and exhausted as the play starts to wrap up. Sabo come out from under your skirts, tidying himself a little, and putting his hat back on as he sits down beside you.

His gloves are obviously stained and wet, but he makes no move to take them off as he grips the arm rests of his seat. He gives you a kind, knowing smile, as the curtains fall and helps you stand so you can give the same ovation as the other opera goers.

“Good job, sweet dove.” He says, taking his hat off no using it to shield the both of you from the rest of the theater as he gives you a kiss. “Perhaps we could have an encore on the ride back home, hm?”

[sekaithemystic]

Neve Gallus Analysis and Theory series [Part 2]

Rana snapped a salute as we entered. Knight-Captain Jahvis stood on the other side of the desk, all patched-up armor and sleep-deprived glares in front of an expensive marble fireplace. I sympathized. My family has more templars than mages. I’m sure that says a lot about me. The point is, I’m not from an old family and I felt as at home in Lady Varantus’s house as Jahvis looked.

The section under this contains spoilers from the podcast Vows and Vengeance.

[part 1] [part 3]

Neve and Radonis - the possible bastard of the current Imperial Archon

Let’s start with the similarities in their designs

Serpent theme: This is less visible in Radonis’ design compared to Neve. Aside from the collars and his staff, there isn’t much to talk about. However, in the illustration of Archon Darinius, we see that he has a snake’s head on his headpiece, which does give out the idea that Archons have some sorts of relation to the serpent theme.

Teal color: Radonis wears a full teal outfit, and we can also see that Darinius has teal accent in his as well. I guess we can say that teal is something to associate with the Archon, or at the very least, Tevinter itself. One of Neve’s alternative outfits, the one that concept art Neve wore, actually made it into the game, and you can see that it is a full teal outfit, just like Radonis. I would like to say that the design is quite clean cut, and it gives out the impression of someone from the upper classes - quite the opposite to her default one.

Also, their faces, guys! That DNA test is coming out at 99.9% /j

Next I’ll move onto Neve’s tarot card. This section is actually more concrete than the designs’ similarities to be honest.

The background: The Archon’s Palace can just mean that they are in Minrathous, but then it is also, well, the place the Archon lives and reigns. Having a blood moon that indicates changes can be read as “the changes are coming to Tevinter” or more specifically, the Archon himself.

The shadow: Here I will break it into smaller points

I mention that the shadow is quite similar to an Arcane Horror, except that this Arcane Horror is holding a staff. Now, throughout the last three games, all the Arcane Horror we have encountered use their bare hands to cast magic. Why? Because they don’t need a catalyst to focus on to channel their magic into; they are demons! So seeing one with a staff means that it has to be different somehow. More intelligent, more powerful? Someone like the Archon himself?

It’s not just the presence of the staff, but also the design of it that is questionable. You can see that there are some types of scales near the head - it kinda reminds you of a dragon/snake’s head. Radonis’ staff has three heads instead of one, but then, I don’t expect Bioware to actually put a copy of his staff in here when these cards are more about symbolisms. Maybe this is his staff after being corrupted? 

My favorite finding really, and I’m quite proud of this. Note how the orb of Neve’s staff is positioned right at the center of the shadow’s chest. In Heroes of Dragon Age, Radonis had an orb of the exact location. In Magekiller, however, the orb has been discarded, but there is still this empty space that is of the orb’s shape. Certainly something to consider.

Neve: This is based on vibes only, but you can feel like Neve is waiting for the shadow to come. Why? Is this somebody she knows?

This is more of a personal tidbit but from Vows and Vengeance episode 1, we know that Neve has made quite a lot of enemies in the Magisterium for how much she knows about the Magisters and their shady business. So just how come she is still alive? I know that she is a talented mage, but let’s be honest, if any of those Magisters wants her dead, I don’t expect her to stay alive that long, or even just live normally in Minrathous. I’ll say that there’s an external factor here, someone trying to keep her alive. But then, who has the power to do so except for the person above these Magisters?

And how interesting would it be if this is true? The lowborn bastard who doesn’t believe in the superiority of mages and the mighty Archon who rules over with magic, both fighting for their visions of Tevinter. 

[spinningbagel]

Heyyyy y’all I come bearing a gift for you all ✨✨ (it’s Sheriff’s design in the Cyberpunk Au)

I debated posting this, not sure if I should wait to do the others but decided to just do them individually so I can talk about the design, the character in the Au and other things I feel the need to mention.

So without further ado, here’s Sheriffs design:

And an alternative version to show off some glowy parts of the outfit:

So, with Sheriffs design I wanted something interesting yet something that’d be mostly practical for his line of work. So he’s got a cool jacket for that with some orange accents to represent the district he lives in (I’ll talk about districts at a later date.) the orange accents are also on his shoes and the thingys on his pants.

The back of his jacket has the star to represent the sheriffs star he has in canon because I didn’t want to give him an actual one in this, if you’ve seen the one or two drawings I did of Hero, i did the same thing there just with the sleeves.

Moving on.

On his right arm, you’ll see what is essentially an electronic glove with a screen in his arm. It’s something Shooter created early into his and Sheriffs partnership, it does many things including having a built in map and communication app of Shooters design. Aside from using earpieces, this is their main form of contact, especially during stealth missions where it’s dangerous to speak.

And moving onto the left arm, we’ve got Sheriffs cybernetic arm, this is obviously to replace his mutated one in canon. It’s got dark greys on it in order to blend into the night but does have a light mode variant he can switch to at anytime. Yes, the shell of the arm can switch between light and dark and even a bunch of other colours. It’s a newer model in the world and is highly customisable. The arm also shifts into a gun as seen below the arm on the main drawing. There’s two variations, the first being where the hand becomes the gun and the second where it pops out of a compartment on the arm. I’m leaning more towards the first option but you guys can leave your thoughts.

There’s also his visor which is not on the main drawing but beside it, another one of Shooters creations, the visors job is to scramble facial recognition technology in order to keep Sheriffs identity secure. It can also make it seem like his eyes are a different colour to what they are. The visor also comes equipped with a mini map for when checking his sleeve isn’t an option.

Those are really the main parts of his design I wanted to mention. So let’s talk about other things about him.

In the MBCPAU, Sheriff is a bounty hunter and occasional assassin. He takes up odd jobs even given to him by clients or by other sources who give him information on criminals who have a bounty over their head. He’s obviously in this for the money, needing to pay off the loan he used to purchase his cybernetic arm (and have the surgery to get it attached. Yes it’s surgically attached to his body.) and to keep himself and Ryan under a safe roof. Ryan is wheelchair bound and doesn’t have an electronic one, not being able to afford it. Sheriff is also saving for one because he doesn’t want Ryan to strain himself trying to get around the house (which has been made as wheelchair accessible as possible.)

Sheriff met Shooter in high school and the two have been close ever since, Shooter has been assisting Sheriff on his missions since Sheriff barged into Shooters apartment one night, bleeding and delirious. Sheriff is thankful he’s on his team, Shooter saving his ass more times then he can count. Shooter doesn’t usually join him on missions, instead hanging back in his apartment and offering guidance from there.

Also this isn’t about Sheriff but Shooters parents are absolutely loaded (they’re head engineers for the company who produces cybernetic parts) so he lives in district 3.

Anywayss.

I believe that’s all, for any further questions you may be having, please head to my query box. It’s always open for asks and I live receiving them!!

As always, Stay safe and eat bread O/

[numbfandom]

I really wanna redesign Bell’s Hells… cause I draw them differently every time and I wanna nail it down.

I’ll comment or reblog this whenever I have a new idea for their designs cause yeah.

Bertrand - I’ve literally never drawn him!!! Which is so crazy to me, cause the group is named after this old man. I don’t know if I’d change much about his design, aside from making his colors more diluted/purple toned, and changing up his boot situation. I’ll have to rewatch some clips to get a better feel for him.

Dorian - He is perfect. But I do feel like his blues clash a bit, and it’s difficult to get the gradient right on his hair, so I’d probably lean into the teal memo, and emphasize the silver feel. I always draw him with a little bit of facial hair (usually a goatee) because it’s so hard to keep him baby faced.

Laudna - I prefer her outfit in her first design, but likely with an updo, and her gloves, which I’ll have to figure out. Pâté nests in her hair. Her colors are more black and purple centric, because of Delilah, and she has gold and red jewelry. Her eyes are almost all black. Tree imagery is still there.

FCG - He has a tongue. And eyebrows. I like his new coat, but it doesn’t look like it comes off easily, so I’d have to figure out a way to make it removable while still having his shoulder pauldrons there. I might move his changbringer coin to his wheel.

Fearne - She has an elongated face, more goat-like, with patterned fur framing her face and her shoulders. She has white freckles, like a deer. Her leg fur is brown but it fades into the same light green as her hair. She is more uncanny, now that we know her background in the feywild. Maybe goat eyes.

Imogen - She has blue and orange/gold vibes, with her gray clothing blue tinted, and golden accessories. Her hair is lighter, and the same color as her scars before they fade to red. She has glasses for reading. Her hair is wavy and very messy.

Orym - Little guy! He has a tail, because I love that for him. There are little white flowers all over his armor, and leaves tucked into his clothing. Keep the fingerless gloves. He has claw marks over his right eye from Chetney. This is probably gonna stay close to canon, aside from the tail.

Ashton - Probably gonna make their colors more vibrant, expand on the weirdcore glass head, and give their dark punk aesthetic some neon blue. He needs some knuckle rings. And more piercings. Tits might be out. Golden top scars. Black fingernails. Eyebrow slits. Eyebrows are more gemstone-y.

Chetney - idk how to fix him. More wolf like, probably. All scarred up. His wolf form is tiny.

[alchemil-studio]

Devlog #3 - June 2023

Hello~!

June has ended and with it we have some more updates regarding the progress of Norvale!

As we mentioned in the previous devlog, we’ve finished the initial story draft for the Craft Store route. In this route, Morgan decides to visit the local craft store in search of something that they can pick up as a new hobby. But once they arrive, they find two men arguing in the middle of the street…

NEW CHARACTERS

The designs for the two men, Frank and Kushal, have been completed and we’ve uploaded their character introductions yesterday.

Frank is the father of Louis, one of Morgan’s childhood friends, and the owner of the local toy store that sits across the street from the craft store. He’s someone that comes across rough at first but once you get to know him, he’s a pretty friendly guy. Despite being on good terms with Kushal’s wife Lathika & his daughter Sara, he never seems to get along with Kushal himself and is prone to starting arguments with him over pointless things…

Compared to the initial sketches, his face became a bit more oval compared to the rounder face of the pencil sketches. While making rough designs for his clothes, they were simple like a plain t-shirt and sandals or a sloppily tucked in shirt to go with his rough but friendly personality. But we decided to make him dress a bit neater and added a jacket to his outfit as well to fit the late spring season the story takes place in.

“He decided to head outside for a bit and threw on a jacket, just in case it gets chilly.” is the basic idea behind his final outfit.

Kushal’s design was pretty straightforward. Although looking back, he might’ve lost a bit of the aloofness of the pencil sketch since his features turned softer in the final design.

Kushal is the father of Sara, another one of Morgan’s childhood friends, and the owner of the local craft store. A man of few words and even fewer expressions, his stoicism and blunt words sometimes tend to rub people the wrong way. While he usually prefers to stay out of trouble, he’s always ready to throw words with Frank.

I drew the first outfit, the red Kurta with black pants to draw out a more traditional Indian feel, while designs 2 through 4 were mostly inspired by things dads usually wear haha

We ended up going with the outfit in design 2 since we felt it was a good casual but still somewhat formal outfit someone like Kushal would wear, while keeping the skin color of the first design.

The blue looks a little striking at first glance but I think the white accents bring some balance.

There’s still a little bit more sprite related work to go before I finish the character art for this route. After that, the plan is to move onto character designs for the third route and once those are done, the focus will be shifted to drawing backgrounds. There’s still a lot of artwork to go but I’ll do my best! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

DEVELOPMENT

Not much to update for the development side, aside from how we’ve started working on applying the new GUI to ren’py and experimenting on some GUI features we’ve thought about before and while conceptualizing the newer GUI. We’ll continue to finish implementing the GUI to the ren’py script before fixing some kinks/feature fixes then the story script itself unto the game. 

tl;dr: we’ve made quite a lot of progress for the 2nd part of the story in terms of assets. We’ll slowly but surely continue to develop and flesh out the full version of the game, so please continue to support us!

In summary, we’re making progress! Although small, we are making progress and a positive one at that! Please look forward to the full release of Norvale!

---

Links

Carrd: Alchemilla Studios

Twitter: @Alchemil_Studio

Instagram: @Alchemil_Studio

Itch.io: Alchemilla Studios

[whatsnewalycat]

Designated Person | 9

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 9: Where The Wild Things Are

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 8.6k+

Tags / Warnings: alternating pov, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship, angst, food mention, jealousy, alcohol & alcoholism, lying, conflict avoidance, crying, internal conflict, birthday party, a low-key dudes rule moment (bros! bros! bros!), tried my hardest hardest with Spanish but I am a white girl I’m sorry if its wrong pls let me know, a lot of dialogue like so much dialogue fuck, children, toxic relationships just bad all around

Notes: WELL HI, long time no see! I know it’s been over 6 months since I’ve updated. I went on a warpath with another series (Psychomanteum—it’s finished if you wanna check it out). But I’m back to force these two dummies to walk through hellfire 💘

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ][ Next Chapter ]

———————————————————————————

Nothing seems right. 

For what has to be the hundredth time, you sift through the sparse collection of t-shirts and dresses hanging in your closet. Each time you push a hanger aside to consider a potential outfit, your brain falls into the same pattern. 

First, you wonder if Frankie would like it. Granted, if you showed up wearing a cardboard box he’d still want to fuck you. 

You want him to like it more than that, though. 

You want him to see you and get all weak in the knees. You want him to look at you in that way he does sometimes. That soft, magnetic look that tugs at every part of you. The one that argues against logic and speaks to intuition instead. That can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of look. 

After considering this entirely reasonable and attainable goal, you picture yourself wearing the clothes through Angie’s eyes. 

You dissect each potential outfit as she would. This dress too low cut, that one too frumpy, the other too short. A critical chorus of slut slut slut plays in the back of your head, accented by the memory of her manicured hands wrapped around your throat, the growl she let out when she squeezed around your windpipe. 

“You little slut, I will fucking kill you.”

Throughout this whirlwind of turmoil, snippets from this morning rise to the surface and drown out everything else. 

Frankie’s lips on yours, hungry and certain. His strong hands on your body, digging into your skin. The way he talked to you, voice low and strained—Whose pussy is this?

Every time these words repeat, your heart hammers in your chest. Tingles trickle out from between your legs and work up your spine.

The time before this, right after he moved in, when you fucked on the couch… you felt dirty afterwards. It sent you into a spiral of self-guilt that gnawed away at you for days. It reminded you of how sex was towards the end last time. Like you could have been anyone. Like he needed something to make him feel alive, and you were just the most ready and willing participant. 

But it felt different this time. 

Intimate in a way it hasn’t been in so long. It felt like an act of something bigger and stronger, like he needed you specifically. Not the rush of endorphins. Not just the heat of another person. Not a substitute for the love his wife wouldn’t give him. It felt like he needed you and nothing else would sate him. 

“I won’t do that to you again, mariposa, I promise. I’ll fix it, I promise I’ll fix it, ok?” 

Right about here is when indecision ties your brain off in a knot that seizes the production of valuable output. 

Then you return to yourself, staring into the closet like it’s fucking Narnia, and slide the hanger aside to do it all over again. 

—

Frankie collapses into a patio chair with a groan, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair before replacing his cap, then tilts his head up towards the blazing sun and closes his eyes. 

When he trekked through the Andes with his team, there were nights where he felt the cold so deep in his bones, he wondered if he would ever be able to get warm again. 

Right now is the opposite of that. 

Right now he would give up fistfuls of cash to feel that bone-deep freeze. 

He casts a longing glance at the cooler and fantasizes about drinking a cold beer. That psssch-ahsound it would make when he opened the tab. He imagines the condensation cooling his heated skin and the alcohol calming his fried nerves. 

Fuck, that sounds perfect. 

Through the open window to the dining room, he can hear Angie and her sister Marta gossiping to each other, talking about how so-and-so is dating what’s his face again and blah blah blah. His ears perk up when Marta segues into their personal life. 

“Speaking of people getting back together… How are things with you and Frankie?” 

Angie doesn’t say anything, but must make a face at her sister because she follows the question up by giggling, “What, can I not ask?” 

“Ay, Marta. No seas metiche.” 

A beat of silence passes. Marta must non-verbally pry, because Angie speaks again, quieter this time. 

“We’ll see.” Then quickly, almost defensively, she adds, “He’s getting his act together, you know. He quit drinking, and he’s doing this parole program. It seems like… it seems like he’s trying.” 

“Mmm. Is he still living with that girl? Su amante?”

Frankie knows Angie well enough to know she rolls her eyes in response. 

Marta tsks, but any further conversation is cut off by a sudden commotion of squealing and bickering.

He looks down at his watch, reading 1240, and guesses that Angie’s friend Carmen arrived with her five children. 

His eyes clamp shut and he fantasizes about drinking a beer. Maybe three. Hell, make it ten. Ten would do just fine. Ten would anesthetize him just enough to let him clear his head and make this whole ordeal manageable. 

“Just get through today,” he tells himself, “Just one more goddamn day, then you can be done with this fucking charade.” 

The backdoor opens, releasing a burst of chaotic noise. Angie and Carmen step out, and he stands at attention. 

“Oh wow, look at all this,” Carmen tells Angie, “Damn girl, you really went all out, didn’t you?” 

“We don’t really know what the situation will be next year, with Frankie and everything,” Angie’s eyes flick to him, and she shrugs, “So I figured, make it memorable. For all of us.” 

“Sure,” Carmen nods, concern creasing her brow, then she acknowledges Frankie with a quick head-to-toe scan, “Francisco, how’re you doing?” 

“Better than I deserve,” he smirks, and gestures to the gift bag hanging off her wrist, “Let me take that for you. Want anything to drink?”

She hands off the present and glances at Angie, then back to Frankie, “Can I get a beer?” 

“Sure,” he nods to Angie, “How about you, amor?”

“I’ll take a beer, too.” 

“Two beers coming up,” Frankie calls behind him while descending the stairs. 

As he walks to the 10’ x 20’ white canopy tent, he tries to eavesdrop, but the two women talk to each other in hushed tones. He has no doubt it’s about him, though, because he hears Carmen exclaim, “Oh shit, really?” then, quieter but still distinguishable, “Good for you, mamá.” 

After dropping the gift bag on the designated table, Frankie goes to the cooler to grab two cans of beer and a bottle of water, then returns to the deck, where Angie and Carmen both lean against the railing. They both murmur a thanks when he hands them their drinks. 

He rubs between her shoulder blades, “Need anything else?���

“A fucking Xanax,” she jokes while cracking her beer open. He watches foam bubble up from the mouth of the can and his pulse surges green with envy. She takes a long sip, then sighs, “Mmm let’s see. Food is done, Mamá and Marta are bringing everything out. Your mom should be here with the cake any minute. You got everything set up in the tent?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Alright, well,” she takes another swig and shrugs, “Wanna get the slip ‘n’ slide going? We can get the kiddos changed into their suits.” 

“You got it.”

He starts away, but she grabs his shirt to stop him.

When he turns back to her, eyebrows raised in question, her golden brown eyes meet his, then drop to his lips, “Thank you.”

His hand finds her waist and he nods, “Not a problem.”

She kisses him, and he kisses her back, thinking of you—always fucking thinking of you— as he tells himself: One more day.

—

Leah picks up on the second ring. 

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Tell me I shouldn’t go to this party.” 

She releases a big sigh that makes you grimace, then says, “Tell me you’re not actually thinking of going.” 

You glance up at the Morales residence through your windshield, sinking down into your seat when you spot Benny, Will, and Dani making their way up the driveway. 

“I’m outside in my car.” 

Leah is quiet for a moment before she asks, “Do you want to go?” 

“Yes and no,” you watch the Millers open the door and go inside the house, “I want to see Sarah, and I wanna be there for Frankie, just because… I don’t know, everything, but…” 

“But Angie?”

You nod, casting your eyes down to your hands to pick at the frayed cuticles, “I’m afraid she’s going to say something or do something to retaliate against me.” 

“You did have an affair with her husband—”

“I’m well aware,” you snip. 

The silence that follows wrings guilt from your stomach. A burning sensation works up your throat behind your eyes, so you pinch them shut and hang your head. 

“Fuck, sorry. You’re right. She has every right to despise me. I deserve it. I shouldn’t go, it’s stupid.” 

Your words come out all pathetic and warbled by tears, but you continue anyway. 

“I feel so torn. I care about them a lot and I wanna be there. I want it to be better so that… fuck. I don’t know. Nevermind.” 

“Why do you want it to be better?” 

“It’s stupid.” 

“No, I want you to tell me.” 

You take a deep, shaky breath, tilting your head up towards the drooping ceiling of your car. The answer pulses through your body and tingles on the tip of your tongue. If you speak it you might shatter to dust. 

Instead, you offer up a consolation prize to distract her. 

“I did something I shouldn’t have,” you whisper, then swing your head down to stare at your steering wheel, “I… had sex with him.” 

Leah snorts, “I fucking knew it.” 

“Shut up, you did not,” you scoff, “It just happened this morning.” 

“Rach owes me $10.” 

“You bet that—God, you are the worst.” 

You hang up on her, then stare at your phone for a few seconds before sending a text to Frankie. 

< ME:  < Are you sure I should come? I feel nervous

A few unresponsive seconds go by before you flip the visor down to inspect your reflection in the mirror. Not terrible. Some black smudges around your eyes. Could use some lipstick. 

You remedy these problems while trying not to think too hard about what you’re about to do, lying to yourself in hopes that you can somehow warp the truth. 

This will be fine.

—

By the time Frankie gets the hose hooked up to the slip ‘n’ slide, his mother- and sister-in-law are setting the last few food items out on the long folding table under the tent. 

Two of Carmen’s sons dash across the deck in their swimsuits. As he passes them on the stairs, he ruffles the older one’s scraggly dark brown hair, calling after them, “Soda and water in the cooler if you boys are thirsty.” 

They holler an acknowledgment as Frankie makes his way inside. 

The relief of stepping into cool, conditioned air quickly dissipates as the commotion hits him. 

At least a dozen conversations meld together in this wall of indistinguishable sound. He can’t quite focus on any of the vaguely familiar faces or isolate one single voice from the warble of people talking. 

A heavy, frantic pounding starts in his chest. His hands start to tingle. Noises disappear completely for a second, replaced by a high-pitched ringing in his ears. 

Jesus fucking Christ, I’m losing it.

He pulls a chair out from the dining room table and sits down, praying nobody notices him clench his eyes closed to inhale a deep, wide breath. 

Then another. 

Then another. 

Everything starts to come back into focus, and he tunes into someone asking, “Fish, you ok?” 

He startles when a broad palm settles between his shoulder blades. Looking towards the source, he finds Will’s dusty blue eyes studying him with concern. 

“Shit,” Frankie mutters, running a hand over his face before he clearing his throat and standing, “Sorry, yeah. Think I got too much heat or something.” He gives his friend a quick, one-armed hug, “Good to see you, man.” 

When Will parts ways with Frankie, he gives him a look that says he doesn’t buy it for a second, but doesn’t push the subject. 

His wife, Dani, approaches with a cautious smile, “Frankie, good to see you.” 

“Good to see you, too” Frankie gives her a hug, “Thanks for coming.” They separate and he asks Will, “Benny here yet?” 

“Yeah,” he smirks, jerking his head towards the living room, “Shooting the shit with your mom.” 

“Figures,” Frankie chuckles and shakes his head, “I gotta go make my rounds, but, uhh,” he gestures from the gift box in the crook of Will’s arm to the back door, “There’s a gift table outside. Food and drinks and all that, help yourselves.” 

“Catch up later, yeah?” Will nods. 

Frankie mirrors the action as a few waist-high kids race past, budging in front of them when Will opens the door. 

He notices a cluster of aimless partygoers lingering between the dining and living room, and starts directing the halted human traffic out to the backyard. It prods them into action, thinning out the crowded common area as he makes his way to the couch, where he finds his mom sitting with Sarah in her lap and Benny at her side. Benny says something to Sarah that makes her and her grandmother giggle. 

“Is this guy bothering you?” Frankie asks, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. 

“Francisco!”  

She passes Sarah to Benny and struggles to get to her feet. 

“Christ, mamá, let me help you” he mutters while taking her well-worn hands in his to pull her upright. 

She’s always been a woman of small stature, barely measuring up to his shoulders once the growth spurts petered out and left him as tall as he’d always be. But each time he sees her, she seems to have shrunk a little bit more. 

As soon as she steadies herself, she kisses his cheek, then pulls him down into a surprisingly tight embrace, telling him, “I missed you so much, mijo.”

“Missed you too, Ma.”

She pulls back from the hug, but holds onto his arms to look him over, “How have you been?” 

“Fine,” he nods, looking away when her keen dark eyes narrow, “What about you, hmm? How was the drive?”

“Bien bien,” she waves off his questions and takes a step back to smile at the birthday girl, “She’s getting so big, Pancho. Such a pretty dress.” 

Sarah grabs at the puffy hem of her skirt and giggles at the attention. 

Frankie snorts in admiration at his daughter, then asks her, “You wanna go see your party, princesa?” 

“Yes!” 

He looks at Benny, “I gotta see if Ang needs me to do anything, do you wanna…?”

“Escort these lovey ladies?” Benny winks at Julieta, “Shit, I’d love to.”

“Jesus Christ,” Frankie mutters, then tells Sarah, “Go with Uncle Benny, I’ll be there in a minute, ok?” 

She jumps off Benny’s lap and runs to the back door, leveraging her weight against the knob. It swings open and she escapes, sending Benny chasing after her, laughing, “Hey, wait up!”

Julieta starts after them just as Sarah’s bedroom door opens, and two little girls come charging towards the back door. Carmen and Angie trail behind, the former carrying a baby tucked into her side, the latter looking around with a puzzled expression pasted to her face. 

“Everyone outside?” Angie asks her husband, slowing to a stop a few feet away from him while Carmen continues outside. 

“Yeah. I, uhh, got the slip ‘n’ slide set up, all the food is out—anything else you need me to do?” 

“Is your girl here?” 

She smirks and tilts her head at him, like she’s joking or teasing, but the humor doesn’t reach her eyes. 

His skittish heart skips in his chest. 

Sensing a trap, Frankie searches her face and shakes his head like he doesn’t understand. 

Angie raises an eyebrow at him, “Don’t act like you don’t know who I’m talking about.”

So fucking sick of this. 

“Whatever,” he blinks, “No. I haven’t seen her yet. Anything else?”

The forced amusement immediately drops from her face and she stomps outside, slamming the door closed behind her. 

He takes a deep breath, pulling his hat up to run a hand through his hair, then glances at his watch. 

1308

He shakes some of the nervous energy from his fingertips and starts to pace the living room. 

What if you decided not to come?

Honestly, it would make today much easier. He could just go out there and play his role. Put on his mask and blame his disposition on the ongoing legal battle. His mother, wife, and friends, they’d be none the wiser. 

Something inside him lurches at the thought. 

Suddenly and very clearly, he understands that if you don’t show, nothing will change. He will drive this ship into the ground. 

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. 

He jogs down the steps, swings the door open, and there you are, wearing a pretty floral sundress and a nervous smile. 

“Hey,” he backs up to allow you entry.  

“Hi,” your smile grows wider, and you step past him as you enter the house, “Long time no see.”At the foot of the stairs, you turn to face him, “Where’s the party?” 

“Backyard.”

“Oh.” 

When you glance down at his mouth, one hundred butterflies start chittering away at his stomach. He licks his lips and notices himself gravitating towards you. It doesn’t help that you’re doing it, too. The subtle way your body bows in his direction, inching so close he can smell the bright burst of your perfume and the damp musk of your sweat. 

“Is everyone out there?”

“Pretty sure,” his eyes flick to the vacant upstairs, then back to you, “Why?” 

Just an inch away, you clamp a grin closed and shrug, “No reason.”

“Uh huh,” he raises an eyebrow, daring to rest his hand on your waist. The contact floods his body with a hot, thudding pulse he can taste. 

Searching his face, you slide your palm over his heart. Beneath your touch, the muscle pounds at its seams. 

Against his better judgment, he leans in to capture your lips in his. Warmth spreads out from his chest through his limbs. You hook a hand behind his neck and pull him closer, your body curving flush against his. 

Only hours have gone by since he last saw you, but it feels like months. It’s like that with you. Timeless when you’re together and an eternity when you’re apart. 

Pulling back, you look at the floor and shake your head, “Sorry.”

“For what?” 

“We shouldn’t, umm,” you swallow hard, shaking your head again as you glance upstairs, “Here, now, you know…” 

He glances at the back door, “You’re right. We should get to the party.“

“Yeah,” you take a big step back and clear your lungs with a deep breath, then hold up your gift bag, “Where should I put this?” 

“Right this way—” 

“Wait, look at me,” you chuckle, tugging at his hand. 

He faces you, asking, “What?” 

You cup his cheek and lick the pad of your thumb, bringing it to his bottom lip, “Lipstick.”

Your brow furrows in concentration, tongue poking out the corner of your mouth as you scrub off the evidence. 

It’s kind of adorable, the way in which you do this. Doting, almost. Reminds him of the times Mamá would catch him with a dirty face in public and try to make him more presentable. 

Briefly, he pictures you as the matriarch of a rowdy crew of children. Driving a minivan to school drop-offs and extracurricular activities and family outings. It suits you. 

He can’t stop his lips from curving into a smile. 

“What?” you grin, eyes flicking to his. 

“Nothing,” he murmurs as you tilt his face around and inspect him. “Better?” 

“Better,” you nod, “How about me?” 

He pinches your chin and looks you over, correcting a smudge before telling you, “All clear. You ready?” 

You give a half-hearted shrug, looking around at the ground, then ask, “Your wife isn’t gonna like… yell at me in front of everyone or pelt me with produce, right? This isn’t an elaborate revenge prank?” 

“Is that what all the tomatoes are for? Shit,” he teases, earning a chuckle and an eye roll from you. “No, but really. She agreed to be nice.” 

“Ok,” you nod, “So I’m like allowed to talk to you and everything without worrying she’ll try to murder me?” 

Frankie snorts, “She wouldn’t murder you—” 

“She has literally told me ‘I will fucking kill you.’”

“That was—” he shakes his head, then brings his hands to your shoulders and stares into your eyes, “It’s gonna be fine, mariposa. We’re gonna go bullshit with people and eat some food, and then we’re gonna home and watch a stupid fucking movie. Ok?” 

You laugh, dropping your gaze for a moment before returning with a bashful smile, “Ok.” 

—

As you make your way down the food table, piling tamales and Spanish rice and fresh fruit on a flimsy paper plate, you feel eyes on the back of your head. Whether it’s just one set or ten, you don’t care to know, but the feeling sends a shiver up your spine. 

When you reach the end of the line, you take a deep breath before turning to find a place to sit. 

Like every other party, the crowd is mostly separated into cliques. 

Parents from around the neighborhood stick together at a few long tables, bribing their children to eat and drink water before returning to the slip-n-slide. At another table sits Angie’s family, including the queen herself, whose pointed stare you gloss over, ignoring her and Frankie at her side. You find some familiar faces at a table near the edge of the big party tent: Benny, Will, and Dani. With them is a small, elderly woman who must be Frankie’s mom or an aunt or something, due to the striking resemblance. 

The whole thing reminds you of choosing a place to sit in your high school cafeteria. Much like you did in those days, you gravitate towards an empty table nearby, but halt when some calls your name. 

 Frowning, you look around to find Benny waving at you. 

“Over here,” he pulls out the chair beside him. 

You approach with a smile, the tension held in your shoulders dissolving just a little as you take the open seat and greet everyone. 

“Thanks. I didn’t know if, umm… it was ok,” you chuckle nervously and drop your eyes to your plate, shaking your head. 

“Oh, come on now, you’re always welcome with us,” Benny grins, leaning back in his chair to reveal the tiny graying woman on the other side of him, “Have you met Frankie’s mom, Julieta?” 

“I have not,” you reach across Benny to shake her hand, “Good to meet you, I’m—” 

She waves you off and pushes her chair out behind her. You half-expect her to furiously walk away at your presence, but instead she wobbles over to you and holds her arms open. 

“I know who you are. Come here, mija.” 

You stand to accept the invitation, stammering out, “Oh—ok—” 

Emotion wells up in your chest when her bony arms squeeze tight around you and she tells you, “Thank you for taking care of my boy.” 

Not sure what to say, you just hug her back for a few long seconds. The embrace says it all. It feels maternal and earnest and brings a few tears to your eyes. When she pulls away and smiles at you, you notice she’s a little misty-eyed, too, and you smile back at her. She gives your cheek a few pats before you both return to your seats. 

“How’ve you been?” Dani asks. 

You contemplate the question long enough for Benny to interject. 

“Well, she’s keeping Fish out of trouble so I’m sure she’s having a hell of a time.” 

You shrug, “It’s nothing compared to some of the toddlers I’ve had to deal with.” 

Your audience chuckles, then awaits a follow up. 

“No, I, umm… I’m doing ok. Going through a breakup, so that’s tough, but… mostly I’m good.”  

Why did I say that?

“A breakup?” Benny leans back and drapes an arm over the back of your chair, “What happened?” 

“Oh, we don’t have to—” you laugh at your plate, stabbing a chunk of watermelon. 

“Come on, give us the dirt,” Benny prods. 

You shove the watermelon in your mouth and wrinkle your nose at him, shaking your head. 

“Let the girl have some privacy,” Dani scolds, “If she doesn’t wanna talk about it, she doesn’t wanna talk about it.” 

“If she didn’t wanna talk about it she wouldn’t’ve mentioned it,” he counters. 

“It’s fine, it wasn’t even a big deal. We were only dating for a few weeks and it wasn’t a good match,” you explain, glancing around the table, “I don’t know why I said it, sorry, I’m just, umm… nervous.” 

You notice Will studying you and hold his meticulous gaze for a moment before dropping your eyes to your plate. He speaks up then, drawing the fire away from you. 

“Hey, that’s alright. Not like Benny has room to criticize,” he gives his brother a lopsided grin, “Remember that girl that tried to stab you?” 

“Not this again,” Benny groans.

“Ok well now you have to tell me,” you say, flashing a grateful smile to Will before nudging Benny, “Come on, give me the dirt.” 

“Well, if you’re gonna twist my arm about it.” He visibly shifts into storytelling mode, sitting up straighter as a glint of mischief sparks in his eyes, “First of all, I had no business dating her to begin with. She had a PT Cruiser with whiskey plates. If that’s not a red flag, I don’t know what is.”

—

Trying to be a halfway decent host, Frankie makes his way around the party checking in with people, introducing himself to all the unfamiliar faces and making small talk, recycling the same lines. 

Drinks are in the cooler if you’re thirsty. Thanks for coming. I’m doing great, how about you? 

Meanwhile, Ang seems to have taken on his former role as the champion beer drinker of the party. Every time he glances at her she’s either guzzling it down or popping open a new aluminum can. 

When she and Carmen start directing slip ‘n’ slide traffic and seem sufficiently distracted, he walks up to the table where some of his favorite people are seated and takes the open chair next to Will. 

“Look who it is,” Will smirks at him, “We were just talking about you.” 

“Christ, do I wanna know?” he leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. 

“Probably not, I was talking mad shit about you,” you tease, looking at him with a grin that makes his heart swell. 

“Figures you would be,” he shoots back. 

You chuckle and shake your head, “No, actually I was just telling them about how I’m teaching you to cook.” 

“Oh yeah,” he looks around the table, “Did you tell them about the stir-fry?” 

“Ok, you tried with the stir-fry and it was almost edible—” 

“Almost edible?” Benny laughs 

“Somehow the rice was both undercooked and burnt, and the veggies were mush,” you share, sitting up taller when you meet his eyes, “But it could’ve been worse. You’re learning!” 

“I’m just impressed you could get him in the kitchen in the first place,” Benny says, then turns his attention to Julieta, “Mamá, you didn’t make him cook anything growing up?” 

She tsks and waves him off, then explains, “His father wouldn’t let me. He was very traditional, you know, said it was women’s work.“ 

“It’s ok, Ma,” Frankie assures her. 

“I am glad you’re learning now.” A smile stretches across her face, “You must be grateful to have such a good teacher.” 

“I am, really,” he nods and glances at you before admitting, “I’d be a fucking mess without her.” 

Everyone at the table seems to sit with this information in silence for a moment before Will clears his throat and asks, “Are you still working on that car?” 

Frankie leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, “Here and there. Lately it’s just been collecting dust.” 

“Mind if I check it out?” Will inquires, “It’s been, what, a year and a half since I’ve seen it?” 

“Sure,” he frowns, looking over at you and your creased brow as if seeking permission, at which point you give a shrug, then he squints up across the yard and spots Angie talking to her mom and dad. “Let me just tell Ang so she doesn’t lose her shit if she can’t find me.” 

The three men stand from the table. Frankie gives you one more glance before starting off towards his wife. With each step he takes across the grass, he wishes more and more that he could kiss you again. Give you reassurance that you’re doing great in this precarious situation. 

Angie’s father glares at him as he approaches, which isn’t abnormal. Angie follows his line of sight, wobbling a bit as she lays eyes on him. Surprisingly, she smiles, “Hey!” 

“Hey—” 

She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him, the action so unexpected he stumbles back a step. Her lips taste of beer and poor judgment. When he pulls away, he plasters on a fake grin and says, “The guys wanna look at the car, is it ok if I slip away for a few?” 

“You boys and your toys,” she rolls her eyes, “Fine, just be back for presents in a couple minutes, yeah?” 

“Alright,” he searches over her shoulder, “How’s Sarah doing?” 

“Good, good,” she nods, “She’s playing with Carm’s kids in the sandbox.” 

“Make sure she gets some water, I don’t think she drank any with—” 

“She’s fine, Francisco. I’ve got it,” she insists, patting his chest. 

He studies her for a moment, then says, “Ok, I’ll be back in a minute. We’ll be in the garage if you need me.” 

“Give me a kiss,” Angie demands, her long nails scraping at the nape of his neck. He leans in and presses his lips to hers, feeling nothing but irritation and disgust. 

—

When Frankie and the Miller brothers disappear into the house, so does your social armor, leaving you exposed. 

For a while you make scattered small talk with Julieta and Dani, discussing Sarah and the party and the weather. You watch Sarah play with her friends from a distance, not wanting to disrupt their sand castle building by approaching. Every once in a while, your eyes cheat to Angie. 

A vile, familiar sensation sits heavy in your stomach. 

He warned you that it might be difficult seeing them together, but you forgot how bad it hurts to witness. 

The way she kissed him doesn’t help. Hanging off him, looking at him with bedroom eyes.

It’s not the same this time. He’s different now. 

The foul thing in your belly goes dead weight, making you lurch. 

What if he’s not? 

Before you can spiral too much, you hear, “Chacha!” and realize Sarah is running towards you

“Hi, pumpkin!” you smile and outstretch your arms to catch her as she slams into you. 

“I’m not a pumpkin, I’m just a girl,” she giggles. 

“Are you having fun at your party?” 

She grunts out an “mhmm” while you pull her up onto your lap. Her face is flushed, skin all heated and damp with sweat. 

“You look like you’re hot, do you want some water?” 

“Um. Ok!” she smiles. 

“Ok let me get you—” 

“I got it,” Dani stands and starts towards the cooler. 

You murmur a thanks and return your attention to Sarah, “Thank you for letting me come to your party. I’m having so much fun.” 

She giggles in response, leaning into you. 

“How are you liking daycare? Do you get to play with your friends?” 

She nods. 

Dani returns with a cold water bottle, twisting the cap open before handing it to you. 

“Here you go, sweetie,” you bring the bottle to her lips and slowly tip it back as she takes big gulps of water. Periodically, you pull it away and let her catch her breath, then start again until she pushes it away. 

“Better?” 

“Much better,” she nods. 

“Maybe she should go inside and cool down for a minute?” Dani suggests. 

Julieta leans over to feel her forehead, “Too much sun, hija.” 

“Do you wanna go inside for a minute?” You ask, tucking her hair behind her ears. 

“Chacha will you go with me?” 

“You want me to—oh, um… should we ask your mom…?” You frown at Dani, who grimaces, then Julieta. 

“Just take her,” Julieta insists, “I’ll tell Angelica if she comes looking.” 

“Ok. Ok sure. Let’s go, sweetie.” 

You rise from the chair, sliding Sarah to your hip, then carry her up the stairs into the house. Once inside, you sit on the couch with her for a few seconds before she wriggles away and scampers off down the hallway. 

“Chacha come see my room!” 

“Oh my fucking god,” you whisper under your breath, glancing nervously up at the back door before following her, “Ok, but just for a minute, then we should go back out to the party.” 

—

“Are you seriously calling him?” Frankie blinks, leaning back against the workbench. 

Will shoots him a look while raising the phone to his ear. 

“Unbelievable. It’s like six o’clock in the morning there, you’re gonna wake—” 

“Hey Pope, I’m gonna put you on speaker.” Will presses a button and sets the phone down next to Frankie, “Now I want Fish to tell you what he just told me and Benny.” 

Gnashing his jaw back and forth, he stares at Will, then Benny. They both watch him expectantly while Santi speaks up, his voice groggy from sleep. 

“Alright, let’s hear it.” 

Frankie clears his throat and rubs his mouth before saying, “I’m gonna ask Ang for a divorce.” 

“Oh shit, ok.”

Will prods Frankie further, “Tell him the other part.” 

“Will you just—Fuck, ok. I’m… seeing someone.” 

On the other line, Santi chuckles a little, “Uh-huh.“ 

“Any guesses on who that might be?” Benny asks. 

“Oh, I have one—” 

“Wait wait wait, let me give you a hint,” Benny grins while scrolling through his phone, pushing off the hood of the car to grandstand, “On June 10–only seven weeks ago, mind you—Fish said about her, and I quote: It’s not like that, we’re only friends. To which you said—” 

“—I said bull-fucking-shit!” Santi finishes, then howls, “That is fucking delicious, thank you.” 

Frankie crosses his arms and shakes his head at Will, “See, this is why I didn’t wanna tell him.” 

“How long?” Santi asks. 

“How long what?”

“How long have you been sleeping with her?”

“It’s… complicated, ok?”

Benny giggles and repeats, “Oh, it’s complicated.”

Santi questions further, “Sure, well, let me ask you this: How long have you been in love with her?” 

“Why does it matter?”

“You do, though, right? You love her?” 

Frankie crosses his arms and glares at the phone, “Yeah.” 

“When did that happen?” 

Heat flares through his veins. He wrings his neck and mutters, “That’s a stupid question.”

“Why’s it stupid?”

“Cuz, Pope, that’s like… that’s like asking how long ago mankind came to exist. Or asking what point a chrysalis becomes a butterfly. I don’t fucking know, man, it just does. I just know that I do, I love her, and I have for… a while.” 

The two men before him are silent, along with the voice on the phone. Frankie, on the other hand, finds momentum in his confession. He continues. 

“And Ang… Jesus Christ, I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve felt like this with her. And the longer I think about it, the more I convince myself I never did. Not this way, like I can’t live without her, you know?” He taps his fingers against his lips, then shrugs, “Maybe I could have at one point, if I tried. But even then… I don’t like who I am when I’m with her. It doesn’t feel right. It’s like I’m wearing someone else’s skin and it doesn’t fit me.” 

He glances up at Benny, then Will. Their faces are somber, but understanding. Benny approaches, leaning on the workbench beside him to rope an arm around his shoulders and give him a supportive squeeze. 

“When are you gonna tell her?” Will asks. 

“Soon. Not today, but this week probably.“

Benny withdraws his touch and crosses his arms in front of his chest, “She’ll go right for the jugular. You know that, right?” 

“I know.” Frankie takes off his cap to run a hand through his hair, then puts it back, “She’s gonna try to take Sarah. Fuck, I’m gonna need another goddamn lawyer, aren’t I?” 

“Can you afford that right now?” Will furrows his brow, studying him, “Be honest.” 

“Probably. Well, maybe. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.” 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but is now the right time? You’re on parole and looking to add felony charges to your wrap sheet. Not to mention the infidelity. On paper, your custody case is shit.” 

Frankie shakes his head, “If I have to keep living like this… all this lying and pretending… I don’t know, man. I can’t do it anymore. Something inside me is about to break. I can feel it.” 

The Millers exchange a look. 

“I don’t think I’m speaking out of line by saying we all just want what’s best for you, Fish,” the voice over the phone tells him, “We want you to be happy. If you need to get out, get out.” 

Frankie glances up at Will, who nods in confirmation. 

“Thanks. It-it means a lot to me,” he shifts his weight to one leg, looking down at his wristwatch, “We better get back to the party. Talk soon, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Santi says, “Hang in there, buddy.”

After hanging up the phone, Will gives Frankie a pat on the shoulder, “We’ve got your back.”

As they file out of the garage into the entryway, Angie walks out from the bathroom. When she notices them climbing the steps, she calls, “Hi boys.”

To his credit, Benny puts on a convincing smile and greets her with a high five, “What’s up, Angie?” 

She steps aside to let him pass, then fixes her glassy eyes on Will, “How’s the carcocha looking?” 

“Better than the last time we saw it,” Will shrugs, glancing over his shoulder at Frankie, “Just needs a little TLC.” 

“Needs to go to the scrapyard if you ask me,” she snorts and tilts her head at her husband as he reaches the top of the stairs, “Hey handsome.” 

He gives her a half-hearted smirk, then frowns, “Where’s Sarah?” 

“She’s fine, still playing. Francisco,” she tugs on his shirt, so he comes to a stop. 

Jesus Christ, her breath smells like a brewery.

His eyes flick to the Millers stalled at the back door. After waving at them to clear out, he raises his eyebrows at Angie, “What?” 

“I need your help with something.” 

“Sure, what?” 

Instead of answering him outright, she takes his hand and leads him down the hallway. His stomach twists with understanding when she pulls him through the doorway towards the bed. 

“If you wanna lay down for a bit, I can take care of every—” 

She turns to face him, placing her palms on his chest and sliding them up to his shoulders, “I want you to fuck me, Francisco.” 

“Ang,” he chuckles with exasperation, shaking his head, “We have a backyard full of guests here, come on.” 

“They’re all having fun, no one will notice.” She takes his hand and guides it to her face, gently folding down all his finger but the index and pouts, “Please, Frankie.” 

He swallows a groan when she wraps her full lips around his digit and sucks. The wet hot plush of her mouth makes his eyelids flutter and weakens his resolve. 

“I don’t think—” 

She pulls his finger from her mouth like a lollipop and bats her eyelashes at him, cooing, “Don’t you wanna fuck me like you did the other night? Didn’t that feel good?” 

“Well, yeah—” 

“We can be quick.” 

As she reaches for his belt, something moves at the edge of his vision. 

“Mommy, Daddy!” 

He looks at the doorway to find Sarah in the hall, holding one penguin toy in each of her pudgy toddler fists. A big, toothy grin spreads across her face and she giggles, galloping into the room. 

Thankful for the diversion, Frankie smiles and takes a big step away from his wife, crouching down to ask Sarah, “Hey sweetheart, what’re you doing in here?” 

“Showing Chacha my penguins,” she tells him, holding up her toys, “This one is an emperor penguin, and this one is a macaroni penguin!” 

“Chacha?”

Something inside him drops to the floor. He looks up and sees you emerge from Sarah’s room. You pause briefly in the hallway, glancing at Angie before meeting his gaze. The pained look on your face rips his heart in two. 

“I, umm…” you stammer, dropping your eyes to the floor and shaking your head, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, I was just—leaving. There’s a thing and-and I have to go.” 

With this, you flee down the hall, then the stairs, your footsteps still echoing heavy in his head while the front door slams shut. 

—

“Whiskey coke?” 

You look up from the bar top’s glossy wood finish to give Bubba a nod. 

“Ain’t seen you around here in a while,” he comments while scooping ice into a glass. 

“Yeah.” 

It surprises you a little, how hoarse your voice sounds. A self-awareness passes over you and you straighten your spine, glancing around the bar before digging a compact mirror from your purse. By the time you finish rubbing the bleeding mascara from your swollen eyes, Bubba is placing your drink in front of you. 

You exchange the mirror for your wallet, but when you fish out your card and hold it out to Bubba, he shakes his head. 

“On the house.” 

“What, do I get the sad sap discount?” 

He chuckles a little at this, then shrugs, “If that’s what you wanna call it.” 

“Thanks.”

Leaning forward onto the bar, you pull the glass closer, then stab the ice with your straw a few times. Little bubbles of carbonation fizzle up to the surface and release the gassy scent of rail whiskey. Nostalgia sours your stomach. 

“Everything alright?” 

A deep ache branches out from the weight beneath your sternum and curls around your shoulders. Every cell in your body feels heavy and burdensome. 

Staring at the glass, you shake your head. 

“I’m all ears if you wanna talk about it.” 

“It’s a long, messy story.” 

“I got time.” 

You glance up at him, studying his concerned expression, and sigh, “You know that guy who meets me here sometimes? Brown hair, usually wearing a hat? Started a fight that one time?” 

“The vet?” 

“Yeah,” you nod and swallow down the thickness in your throat, then tell him, “We’ve been off and on for years. He’s, umm… he’s married. I was their nanny when it started. I fell in love with him. He made it clear he didn’t feel the same and he wouldn’t leave his wife, but I kept seeing him because I’m an idiot.” 

“Sounds like you kept seeing him because you loved him, not because you’re an idiot,” Bubba observes. 

“Same difference,” you shrug and tilt your head at your drink, “He’s an alcoholic. After his wife caught us fucking, he went off the rails completely. Still kept seeing him even though he kept me at an arm’s length and drank himself dumb every night. The thing is… I never believed him when he said he couldn’t love me like I loved him. I felt it, and I thought…” 

Tingles work up your throat behind your eyes, and everything becomes blurry as you choke out a sob. 

“I’m sorry—” 

“It’s ok.” 

You shake your head and wipe away your tears, but they keep coming. 

“I thought if I kept loving him he would see how good it could be and come around. I thought he would admit to himself that he does love me like I love him. I wanted that with him so bad, I just couldn’t fucking let go. Then, umm…” 

You clear your throat and take a deep, shaky breath. 

“I had to give him an ultimatum. Her or me. He picked her. I cut it off and tried to move on with my life. He called me a few months ago from jail and asked me to bail him out. I got roped into being his custodian while he’s on parole, so he’s been living with me. We agreed not to get involved in, umm, that way again. 

“He’s been sober and opening up emotionally while working through this shit. It’s been really hard. But it’s also been good, you know, because we’ve had to hash out all these problems that we’ve ignored for years. I’ve been able to see the real him, and… I love him more than I ever have.” 

“Uh-huh,” Bubba raises an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms above his beer belly, “So what happened that’s got you in a fuss? He still doesn’t love you back?” 

The question pierces your heart. 

Your voice balances a tightrope as you confess, “I thought he did. I really did this time, I was so fucking certain. He promised he would fix it, that we could be together—and I fucking believed him—” 

Waves of emotion swell in your chest and flood your eyes with hot tears. You fold forward, burying your face in your hands, releasing sob after sob as you replay the last two months in your head and wonder how you could be so fucking stupid to think it was real. 

The world around you melts away until it’s just you and that dense, pulsing pain. Like it’s always been. Like it always will be. 

It doesn’t matter how hard you try to help him. It doesn’t matter that you love him more than anything else in this world. It doesn’t matter. 

Nothing matters, because he doesn’t love you and he never will. 

A hand rests on your shoulder blades and pulls you back to reality. So lost in your self-pity, you didn’t notice Bubba come around the bar to console you. You sit up and wipe your eyes, mumbling out an apology. 

“It’s fine, darlin’. Can I do anything to help?” 

Sniffling, you shake your head, “I’ll be ok.” 

“You sure?” 

You inhale a shattered breath and give him a weak smile, “Fifty-fifty.” 

He furrows his brow and studies you for a moment before nodding, then taking a step back. 

As he makes his way back to his side of the bar, you stare at your drink. A fat droplet of moisture rolls down the thick condensation lining the glass and gets swallowed up by the cardboard coaster beneath. 

You wish you could forget about him. 

You wish you could feel nothing. 

You wish you could hurt him the way he’s hurt you. 

So, you pluck out the straw, raise the cup to your lips, and start drinking. 

—

The setting sun paints the wispy clouded sky above a brilliant shade of orange. Beneath his feet, the soles of Frankie’s shoes scuff against the driveway. He glances down at his mom, with her arm hooked in his, and says, “Thanks for coming out, Mamá. I hope you had a good time.” 

“It was a very nice party, mijo.” 

She gives him this stifled polite smile like she’s holding something back. So he prods her. 

“What?” 

She waves him off, “Nada nada.” 

“Come on, Ma.” 

They come to a stop at the driver’s side door of her car and turn to face each other. She studies him a moment, then gives in with a huff, “You have been like this all afternoon. Why?” 

“Like what?”

“So stormy.” 

He deflates, “Don’t worry about it.” 

Her lips purse as she tilts her head at him. The ‘don’t make me smack you’ look. 

“It’s messy, mom. How I’m feeling,” he wrings a hand behind his neck and shrugs, “I don’t know. Everything is a mess and it’s all my fault.” 

“All your fault how? Did something happen?” 

“No—well,” he catches himself, swallows, then corrects, “Yeah. I did something bad. And I lied about it. Then I got caught in the lie, and, you know…” 

She nods slowly, waiting for more. 

“I think I might be a bad person.” 

Her expression softens when Frankie says it. She cups his cheeks and stares straight into his soul. Suddenly, he’s five years old all over again, Mamá comforting his bruised heart. 

“There is a good man inside you. I know him well because he’s my son. Let him be brave.” 

He absorbs this for a moment, then croaks, “Ok.”

“Give me a hug.” 

He hunches over to hug her, burying his face in her neck, “Quiero mucho, mamá.” 

“Yo a ti,” she squeezes him, then pulls back and asks, “Will you call me tomorrow?” 

“Sure.” 

He waits for her to get in her car and drive away before returning to the house. Inside, he finds Sarah and Benny reading a book on the couch, while the siren song of the party still roaring out back rubs at his nerves. 

Frankie pulls out his phone to confirm you, predictably and rightfully, did not respond to his messages or calls. Reconciling with you will be a fucking nightmare. Going home to face the consequences seems less appealing with each passing second. 

He starts to consider other options. 

He could stay and drink. Join the party. Doubtful that Angie or any of her people would give a shit. Hell, they would probably encourage him.

Better yet, he could stay and drink by himself in the garage. There’s enough booze laying around, nobody would notice if he drained a bottle or two in order to reach that blissful numb. 

He plops down on the couch next to Sarah and brings his attention to Benny’s reading. 

“—‘Now stop!’ Max said and sent the wild things off to bed without their supper. And Max the king of all wild things was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all. Then all around from far away across the world he smelled good things to eat so he gave up being king of where the wild things are. 

But the wild things cried, ‘Oh please don’t go—we’ll eat you up—we love you so!’ And Max said, ‘No!’ The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws but Max stepped into his private boat and waved goodbye… and sailed back over a year and in and out of weeks and through a day… and into the night of his very own room where he found his supper waiting for him… and it was still hot.” 

Benny flips the paperback closed and looks down at Sarah, who yawns and rubs her eyes, then to her father. 

“Still want that ride home?”

Frankie considers this for a moment before nodding, “Yeah. Let me put her to bed and talk to Ang, then we can take off.”

[ Next Chapter ]

[raenparade]

weekly update #2 - 20/02/23

This week has been a bit of a shift, into more character design stuff! I’m starting to feel more confident with my ability in Storyboard Pro, but wanted to revisit Jamie and JJ’s designs a little bit (especially Jamie’s) so I wasn’t feeling uncertain when it comes around to polishing any work I do.

I wanted to both do character stuff and board this week, but the character stuff did take up a bit more time and effort than I initially anticipated - and that’s okay! Work is work, and I’ve made more progress than if I’d spent all my time panicking about what I hadn’t yet done.

Sketching on paper is pretty fun, doesn’t feel as intense as using a sketchbook? I think I still feel the need to have a ‘pretty’ sketchbook when that’s really not the case. But Jamie and JJ both have full names now, which is nice!

I flipped between sketchbook work and digital work, honestly gravitating towards whatever appealed to me most in the moment.

The issue I had for a while (aside from not feeling like I understood Jamie well enough) was that he looked pretty kid-like! I want both Jamie and JJ to be around mid-late 20′s - essentially not kids. 

I’d sketched Jamie late last year, when I was still prioritising concept art over storyboarding, and he definitely looked a lot older here, although I wanted him to be a bit more stylised. I also thought his hair could do with some more shaping, instead of just being a bit messy, keeping the consistency would help with boarding a lot. 

While I really liked how some of these poses had personality to them, it was kind of the same problem! He looked like a kid! 

So - I tried to marry everything I’d done so far.

I’m pretty happy with how this turned out! I don’t feel like I had to change much to age Jamie up, making his build a bit stockier and keeping a bit of facial hair ended up doing a lot of the heavy lifting here. 

I didn’t end up boarding anything, and I don’t think I opened Storyboard Pro once last week. Obviously overloading myself every week won’t be good for sustainability, but I don’t want to fall too far behind with any one thing throughout my work. 

This week I want to have a more polished character sheet for both Jamie and JJ, and some outfit alterations. These won’t be portfolio-ready, but set up a bit nicer and have colour and the like. I also want to board! Feboardary has a week left, and so I want to use the ‘Confrontation’ prompt with the little environment sketch I did in the second picture on this blog post. In-between work I’ve been thinking about some story elements I’ll have to start developing soon, so this will be a nice entry point. These boards will also be more polished! I’m capping myself at around 20 seconds, but I want to actually have Jamie and JJ express and move! No more vague noodle people.

[moemoemammon]

. Have you ever seen those tiktoks titled "Ask your boyfriend to go do things he loves." Can I ask for the MC to to that with the demon brothers?

"Hey, Can We Do that Thing You Like?"

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros!)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

What did you do

Or what did HE do? Are you trying to butter him up? Did you do something wrong? What did you break where's Mammon-

The fact that you're genuinely interested in a FACTORY TOUR is... well, Lucifer always knew you were the type to understand his refined tastes. ✨

And what's there not to be excited for? He's sure you'll both have a great time, with him as your guide. Don't tell anyone, but Lucifer's so excited he got his coat stuck in the door twice-

"I'll clear my schedule for the day, then. I have to admit, MC, I never thought you'd have an interest in something like this. I wonder if we have more in common than I originally thought?"

Mammon

*comedic spittake*

Legit?? So excited?? You actually want to go gambling?? He didn't think it’d be your sort of scene!

Wait what did he do to deserve this- Nah, it's probably that you've finally recognized how great THE Great Mammon really is!!

Already clearing his schedule just for you- There's no way he’d miss a chance like this for the world! He's even canceling that modeling gig he's got later!

"Wait, seriously?? Y-ya wanna go gamblin' with me? Then.... let's do it! Let's make a night of it! I know all the best spots for a beginner like you, so just stick with me, alright? The Great Mammon's gonna make sure we're rakin' in a FORTUNE tonight!"

Levi

SERIOUSLY?? Like, you're not joking?!

You want him to tell you about EVERY PIECE of Ruri-chan merch he owns?! You promise you won't get bored? No no, of course you can't get board when you're in the presence of the ever-radiant Ruri-chan!!

He'll even show you the stuff he's got in storage! See, he has so much that it can't all be displayed, so he rotates them out every week, and-

But you really wanna see?? There's no backing out now! And try not to let your head spin. It's okay to be jealous of his amazing collection! 😤

"Isn't she cute? The craftsmanship for this figure is the reason I HAD to have her. Aside from it being Ruri-chan, of course. They really caught the details in such an accurate way that it makes it seem like she's in the room with me! Do you want to listen to the albums too? I've even got vinyl! Oh right, I've got a ton of stuff recorded! Let's watch those! Here, this is one of my most prized possessions! See? I got this from the time I went to my very first expo, and-"

Satan

REALLY?!

Wait that was super loud ehem-

So you don't mind helping him turn the garden into a cat paradise..? It'll give you both the perfect view of the strays that might be attracted!

He's already got a ton of ideas. He wants to install a little perch near the window, put up some steps that wind up the tree, clear out a space for a napping spot...

"I've already worked out a design plan for the entire thing. I planned on doing it in secret, but knowing you want to help me makes this even more exciting. Should we also plant some catnip in the garden? I'd like to watch them play in it. Ah, and maybe I'll make a large community feeding bowl? Hm..."

Asmo

Wait.. really? Are you sure you wouldn't rather just bask in his beauty instead??

You actually want to help him organize his closet?? You know how big it is, right? Maybe it's because you want to take in all his lovely vibes, but he's still touched! It's not like people normally want to help with something so boring.

But he's been meaning to update his entire wardrobe, and not even Satan wanted to help with that! The fact that you're offering with no strings attached.... 🥺💕

Everyone knows how fashion forward Asmo can be, and he's got SO many clothes, it takes ages to get it all organized! It could take days, or even WEEKS! But it's sure to pass in a breeze with your help!

"You're a DOLL, MC~! I love you! Now then, I've been thinking that I should add a couple of pieces that are better suited for cold weather. You know how I HATE the cold, so I don't usually add many winter outfits. But wouldn't it be cruel to deny the world my beauty just because it's cold outside?? Here, should I go with this, or this?"

Beel

ARE YOU SURE?! You really wanna go on that food tour of the devildom he signed up for?!?!!?!

Beel immediately gets out of his chair, wide eyed like a little kid who was told they'd be going to Disney World.

Scrambles around to find his phone because he's gonna get your ticket RIGHT NOW

A day of trying every food in the devildom, AND he gets to spend it with you?? Pinch him, he had to be dreaming. Was this heaven?

"Okay. I'll call so I can add you into the tour with me. There's this black apple pie I really want to try with you. Oh, and I heard the blood orange meringue pie is good, too! There's also the black boar platter where they flambé the meat in demonus, and the fat becomes caramelized...."

Belphie

You don't mind..? You know it's cold out, right? And the hike is gonna take forever??

You actually WANT to go stargazing with him?? Belphie's gotta admit that there's nothing like seeing the stars in person so he can understand why you'd wanna go, but it really IS a long way...

Still, he's not gonna let you take back your offer. AND you're offering to let him use your lap as a pillow?!?!? He'd be suspicious if he weren't so happy right now. Not that he'll let you see it-

Trying his damndest not to be all giddy, but you've never seen him move so fast to get ready in your life.

"Don't tell the others we're going, okay? I want this to be our secret. And maybe... we could do it more often? We could even invite Beel next time to carry me up on his back, unless you're up for that too. Eheh, I'm joking."

[multifandomfanfiction]

I Wanna Dance with Somebody Chapter 7

TITLE: I Wanna Dance with Somebody Chapter 7 PAIRING: Willard/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: 7/? SUMMARY: Molly has just moved to Bomont with her older brother Ren after the death of their mother. Where Ren gets into trouble, Molly tries to remain invisible. That is until an awkward country boy tries to befriend her. Can Willard help her regain the confidence she lost? And more importantly, will he help her to dance again?

Molly eyed the building warily.

Wren and Ariel wanted to have some fun, so of course they dragged Molly and Willard along with them.

Being in large crowds made Molly very uncomfortable, so she stuck close to Willard’s side. He dressed in what she would consider a very stereotypical dressy cowboy outfit with a baby blue shirt, tight blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a tan cowboy hat. The baby blue shirt had black designs across the shoulders and down his chest. She thought blue looked rather good on him.

By some coincidence, Molly had chosen a blue sundress with a pair of white cowboy boots that Ariel let her borrow. Molly blushed when she noticed that she and Willard matched on accident.

They entered the country themed bar and saw people dancing.

Ariel headed for the dancefloor while Willard and Molly hung back.

“Come on,” Wren said.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll watch you guys,” Willard said.

“Mols?”

Molly shook her head.

Wren turned to Ariel. “You go out there and have some fun.”

Ariel nodded and headed for the dancefloor.

Wren pulled Willard aside. “What’s the matter with you, huh? We drove two hours to get here. You’re gonna stand around and mope? You could at least ask my sister to dance!”

“I don’t dance. All right? I don’t dance.” He looked at Ariel having fun dancing and leaned in toward Wren. “I can’t dance. At all.”

“It’s country line dancing. It’s a white man’s wet dream. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.” Wren pushed Molly towards Willard. “Molly can teach you. She was on our school’s dance team.”

Willard looked down at Molly. “What? You didn’t tell me that.”

Wren made his way to the dance floor, leaving Willard and Molly alone.

“You wanna go get a drink?” Willard asked.

Molly nodded and slipped her hand in his as they headed for the bar. Since they were underage, the bartender just gave them sodas.

“You look real pretty tonight,” Willard told her.

Molly blushed. She pulled out her phone and typed in a message. You look very handsome. Blue looks good on you.

This time Willard blushed.

Communicating through phone had become their thing since Molly still wasn’t comfortable speaking in front of people. She only spoke to Willard when they were alone and even then, it was in short sentences.

They watched Ariel and Wren dance for a while.

Molly tapped Willard’s soda can and pointed to the bar.

“You want another?” he asked.

Molly nodded.

“Comin’ right up, darlin’.”

As Willard walked away, she grabbed his hat and put it on her head. While she was waiting for Willard, a young man walked up to her.

“Hey darlin’. You’re lookin’ pretty tonight.”

She glanced over her shoulder, looking for Willard.

“What’s your name?”

Molly tried moving away from him, but he grabbed her wrist.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

Molly wanted to scream at him to let her go, but she couldn't. She tried pulling away from him, but he only tightened his grip.

“Hey! Get your hands off her!” Willard yelled, pushing through the crowd. He punched the guy in the face.

The man let go and Willard turned to Molly. “You okay?”

She nodded and looked for Wren, who was still on the dance floor with Ariel. Molly was too distracted to see the man grab Willard and punch him, sending him to the floor. Molly gasped and looked around for a weapon. She saw a beer bottle and broke it over the man’s head, before dropping to her knees beside Willard.

His cheekbone was starting to swell and he would definitely have a shiner come tomorrow.

Tears filled her eyes. This was all her fault. If only she had the courage to speak then Willard wouldn’t have had to be her knight in shining armor and he wouldn’t have gotten punched.

“Molly?” Willard asked.

Molly shook her head and fled the bar.

“Molly!”

Molly made it the car with Willard hot on her heels.

“Where are you going?” Willard asked, “Wren has the keys.”

“My fault…” she whispered.

“What?”

Molly turned to Willard and placed a hand on his cheek. “My fault.”

“No. No, darlin’. Nothing that happened tonight is your fault. He shouldn’t have grabbed you.”

Willard wrapped his arms around her. “It’s not your fault. I promise.”

But Molly couldn’t shake the guilt she felt.

Taglist: @theforevermorereject @urmomssidehoeposts @multiple-fandoms-girl @shiny-captain-no-pants @lizzylynch1 @imheresohi​ @vhaenen