#my worry is that the white dots are going to get lost in them if i don't darken the blue at least a little

[gamebunny-advance]

Let's try this again...

So, I went ahead and made Ice a new yarn wig, among other progress.

(The clothes are placeholder.)

I was originally gonna cut it all short like the concept sketch, but I thought the long hair just looked so cute, so I decided to only trim the bangs and tie the rest of it back. I even braided some of it~

As for the rest:

I sculpted his horns and tail, and they're all delightfully shiny. It's kind of a miracle that his design called for horns because the pins I stuck them to are helping to keep the heavy-ass wig in place XP.

I don't know if I'm loving the face-up. Using the metallic paint for his lips is giving Bratz energy, but I don't know if I love the eyes. They're just missing something. Maybe an accent color? The original vibes I wanted to go for with Ice was "backup dancer from Mottai Nightland", but they're not quite hitting it yet.

Maybe something like this would work?

(Kinda reminds me of a jawbreaker~)

But since I'm working with acrylics, if it doesn't work out, I'm basically gonna have to start all over again, so I'm more inclined to just leave it be.

I dunno. I just don't like how small the BTS eye molds are. It worked for the one project I got them for, but it's not really my style otherwise. I think any future dolls are going to use more stylized bases (I'm trying to brainstorm some ideas for that Hairdorables/Cave Club hybrid I proposed). I need some giant eyes to work with.

Otherwise, assuming I leave the face-up alone, all that's left are the clothes~ You may have noticed that he's already wearing the apron, but there's still a bit more I have to do~

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 1

Or: a secret Admirer AU

Less than a month into the school year, and Steve’s already making use of the library. If Mrs. Click could see him now, she’d be proud–until she caught sight of the blank notebook page in front of him and the lack of textbooks on the table. 

He feels stupid; he’s hunched over his notebook, trying to make his thoughts transfer onto the page in any coherent form. But, he’s not like Eddie with his impassioned speeches and clever English papers.

Words flow through Eddie in fully-formed, concrete ideas. For Steve, it’s more of a drip. Each word has to be scaffolded onto the previous one with blood, sweat, and tears. Even then, it’s never quite right. Too abrupt, never what he was actually trying to say.

He’s just never been good with words.

By the time he gives up, there’s more crossed out than left written, so he gets a clean page of paper and transcribes it as best he can. He’s left with:

       Your hair is pretty. Do you use conditioner?

Steve tears it from his notebook and lays it flat atop his table in the library, smoothing out any crinkles in the page. It feels like the start to something, sure, but there’s more blank space on the page than words. By a lot.

He leans back over his work, adds a little wonky heart in his blue pen and signs the whole thing—

       ❤ your secret admirer

—the way all the girls who leave notes in his locker do. Their notes are usually on pretty paper, written in sparkly gel pen that smells like strawberries. The i’s are sometimes dotted with little hearts he’ll never admit to finding cute. And there’s envelopes involved, and usually more than eleven measly words.

His looks like something Eddie’ll toss out before opening, mistaking it for trash.

Steve grimaces. How do girls do this? Do they all take some sort of class on how to write pretty letters on pretty enough paper that boys will fall in love with them? Is that what they teach in Home Ec? He should have never let Tommy mock him into switching to shop class.

Should he ask a girl?

Under no conditions will he ever ask Carol. She’d have far too many uncomfortable questions and tell the whole school all of his embarrassing answers. He’d be run out of town within days, Carol holding the sharpest pitchfork.

Steve leans back in his chair with a groan too loud for the library and fists his hands to rub tired eyes.

“Are you okay?” Steve jerks, sending his pen and paper careening to the ground in his attempt to cover the compromising words upon the page. “Oh, sorry!”

Steve watches, horrified, as Chrissy Cunningham bends down to pick his supplies up off the carpet before he’s had time to scramble out of his chair. She’s in her cheer uniform, white zip-up Hawkins hoodie covering her arms. She looks perfect and preppy and just like all the girls who’ve ever left a note in his locker.

She’d be able to write something that Eddie would want to read.

“Steve?” Chrissy’s hovering over him, lips pursed, eyes big and worried. “Are you okay?”

“Shit, sorry,” he replies. She’s got his note clutched to her chest. He curls his fingers against the urge to reach out for it—that’ll just draw her attention, and that’s the last thing Steve wants right now. “Just got lost in my head.”

“Anything I can help with?”

He knows what she’s going to do before it happens. Chrissy’s sweet—if there’s a way to help, she’ll want to. So, she holds out the paper and begins to read, probably expecting an assignment she can tutor him on, and there they are: Steve’s damning words written in still-wet blue ink.

Her brow furrows as she takes an obscene amount of time mouthing out the words before she looks back up to meet his eyes. “Did someone give this to you?”

Her eyes are still big, but they look sad now, like just the thought of someone receiving the note he’d slaved over is enough to distress her. Unable to help himself, Steve snatches it from her hands and crumples it into a ball, damning words hidden in his fist.

Chrissy gasps at his abrupt movement and takes a halting step away.

“I wrote it,” he mutters, no longer able to meet her eyes.

She’s silent for long enough that he’d think she left, except the library’s quiet, and he hasn’t heard her take a step. He stares at the grains of the wood in the table, empty hand rubbing against the smudged top as he waits for her to do something.

“Are you…” she starts, trailing off for a moment before picking her thought back up, “…picking on someone?”

Steve clenches his fist tighter, note crinkling beyond repair beneath his nails as he mutters, “no.”

Chrissy’s quiet again. Steve doesn’t dare to look up, even as he hears the chair across from him pull out, the sound of her weight settling into the wood. The table’s just so interesting. Nothing has ever been as intriguing as the little chip out of its edge, the ring on the wood where someone had let their drink condensate against all the library’s rules.

“Who’s this for?” Chrissy’s voice is soft now, like he’s some sort of horse, prone to bolting when spooked. “Steve?”

Steve looks up. Her eyes aren’t sad anymore; they’re piercing.

He’s always liked Chrissy. She’s the nicest girl in the school, until someone does something she doesn’t like. Then, it’s all disappointed eyes, and pouty lips. It’s like disappointing his Mom, but worse, because his Mom’s never around to stare balefully at him.

The point is, Chrissy’s nice. She’s not like Carol. If he told her, there would be no lynch mob, or fleeing Hawkins in the dead of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back. Probably. Maybe.

Steve tries to smooth out the page, and scowls down at it when the wrinkles refuse to disappear. It’s even worse now, words made illegible by the deep creases his fingers have pressed into the paper. There’s no way Eddie’d ever want a note like this.

So, he says, “Munson,” looking up to try to watch his meaning land on her face.

It doesn’t. Her foreheads all scrunched up as she looks down at the note. Only then does Steve realize he’s caressing the wonky little heart. He pulls his hand back, curling his fingers in so she can’t see the smudge of blue on his pointer finger.

“And you aren’t making fun of him?”

Steve can feel his shoulders drooping. He wants to disappear into the floor, melt into the carpet and become one with all the other mysterious stains upon it. “No.”

“Oh,” Chrissy replies, drawn out and low as she peers down at the crinkled note with a confused frown. But something must click because she straightens, eyes wide beneath her bangs. “Oh!”

It’s loud enough that they both reflexively flinch. But, when no librarians come skulking around any corners, Chrissy turns back to him, gaze uncomfortably intent. Steve wonders, somewhat horrified by the turn his life has taken, if he’s about to get hate-crimed by a cheerleader half his size.

But Chrissy’s nice—always has been, always will be. So, she bites her lip and looks furtively around like she’s only just realized this is a conversation that shouldn’t have any witnesses. “But you like him?” she whispers.

Steve leans forward, matching her energy and pitch as he replies, “yeah,” quiet enough that it’s barely a breath. Chrissy smiles at him, warm and small, just like her hand as she reaches across the table to put it over his and squeeze comfortingly.

The note sits, damningly soiled beneath their linked hands, wrinkled, and smudged, and barely-legible handwriting. The weight that’d lifted with Chrissy’s smile sinks back into his gut.

“But it doesn’t matter,” Steve says, letting go of her hand so he can pull the note closer to himself. “I’m no good at this stuff.”

Steve crinkles the note back up. It’s unsalvageable—a stupid idea executed badly.

He’s in the middle of stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans to keep his keys company until he can toss it out in the comfort of his home when Chrissy says, “maybe I can help?” voice lilting up, like it’s a question.

Steve meets her eyes, hand still half-shoved in his pocket. She’s all earnest now, the way she usually is when there isn’t a sad boy infecting her with his own ineptitude. Eyes shining with conviction, bangs curling sweetly around her face. She’s no Carol, that’s for sure.

“How?” he asks, and when she smiles, it looks a bit like hope.

***

 “I can help you write a better letter,” Chrissy starts. He perks up like a dog the moment its owner gets home. “If you do something for me.”

She feels like scum when he curls back into himself, gaze forlorn.

When she’d caught sight of the note he’d spent what seemed like a full hour pouring over, this isn’t what she’d been expecting. And when she’d finally made out his chicken scratch scrawl, she’d been sure Steve was picking on someone, no matter how unlike him it would have been. But then his shoulders had curled in, and his ears had turned red, and his voice had gone all soft and squishy when he’d said Eddie Munson’s name.

And she’d just wanted to fix it.

So, even as he asks, “what?” all sad and droopy again, she knows she’s going to help him, no matter what he says.

“Date me,” she asserts. It’s only as Steve blinks stupidly at her that she realizes how that came out of her mouth. “No, wait, not really!”

Her hands are waving around wildly and she can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. In contrast, Steve seems to come back into himself, shoulders shoring up as he smirks across at her with his signature raised brow. The one he’d used while leaning on Nancy Wheeler’s locker last year, or holding her books as they walked to class, and all the other assortment of stereotypical boyfriend activities.

He’d worn it all the time, like it was part of the uniform. 

“I just meant, we could fake it?” His right eyebrow raises to meet his left, forehead scrunching up with his incredulity. “It’s just, Jason and I broke up? And he won’t leave me alone.”

It takes all her strength to keep meeting his eyes as the seconds tick away. But then Steve nods, swings his letterman jacket off, and tosses it across at her. Unprepared for his sudden movement, it hits her in the face and drops into her lap.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he says with a cheesy wink that somehow manages to feel more genuine than any of his actual flirting techniques. “Gotta sell it somehow.”

“What a romantic,” she replies, deadpan, but she pulls his jacket on anyway, something that feels an awful lot like relief steadying her heart rate as she smooths down the too-long sleeves.

Jason’s going to freak out. But after that, maybe he’ll stop calling her house, and trying to put his arm around her at lunch, and trying to pick her up for school every morning. She’d do almost anything to get it into his thick skull that she’s not interested.

So, here she is, hashing out the details of a secret admirer letter from Steve Harrington to Eddie Munson, of all the unlikely pairings.

“What’s wrong with what I wrote?” Steve whines, running his fingers through his hair until it’s all mussed up and falling into his face.

Chrissy snorts. “It sounds like you’re telling him his hair is frizzy and dry.”

“I said it was pretty!” He throws his hands in the air before crossing them and pouting his lower lip out.

Chrissy can’t help but laugh. She’s always liked Steve. He’s nicer than most of his friends, and he’s easy to talk to. But this is a side she’s never seen of him. She’s not sure anyone has; can’t imagine Carol or Tommy seeing him put his whole heart into something and not tearing it to shreds.

“Do you use conditioner?” she asks, throwing finger quotations around it as she reads it off the crumpled page.

Steve’s blushing again, cheeks all blotchy and red, rather unbecoming for the shoo-in for this year’s prom king. “Well, I thought you said you’d help!” he says, a little too loud for the library.

So, that’s how she ends up spending the next hour painfully turning Steve’s earnest thoughts into words on the pretty baby blue paper she’d carefully removed from the back of her daily planner.

In the end, they’re left with this:

       Eddie –

       I wish I could say this to your face, but I’ve never been good with words, and you’d probably think it was a joke.

       I can’t even get myself to talk to you, you’re so distracting.

       I like how pretty your hair is. How do you get your curls so shiny? I want to run my fingers through them.

       I hope this note brightens up your day. You deserve all the smiles you can get.

       Yours,

       Your Secret Admirer

It’s not what she would write, but still, it’s leagues better than what he’d started with. She slides it across to Steve, and he smiles down at it. He reaches his hand out, fingers almost brushing the page before he pulls his hand back, curling his fingers into a fist.

“What if someone sees me?” he asks, voice so quiet she can barely hear him even in the resounding silence of the library.

They’d managed not to talk about it, the dangers of Steve liking a boy. But it’d been present in the hesitancy by which he shared each of his thoughts, looking up at her like each remark would be the last straw before she recoils in disgust.

If someone finds out that Steve has a crush on a boy, it won’t take long until he’s getting beat up between classes or heckled straight out of school. Heck, even with all the rumors floating around about him, Eddie might be the one to throw the first punch.

“Do you want me to deliver it for you?” she asks.

“You’d do that?” he asks back, because apparently no one ever taught him not to answer a question with a question. “For me?”

“What else are fake girlfriends for?” she asks because they’re all questions now, no answers to be had between the pair of them.

Steve laughs, all tension leaving his shoulders as he throws his head back with amusement, eyes downright twinkling as he beams across at her.

“You’re the best, Chrissy,” Steve says, smiling even brighter as she replies, “I know.”

She leaves school that night after pushing Steve Harrington’s love note through the slats of Eddie’s locker, Steve’s letterman jacket keeping her warm from the cold.

This might be the best relationship she’s ever had, fake or not. Eat your heart out, Jason Carver.

PART 2

Welcome to my new AU! This will be posted in 21 parts. It is complete, so there will be a new update each morning until it's all posted. I've elected not to do a tag list, but it will be added to my pinned post each day as well. If that's not your speed, it will be added to Ao3 once it's all been posted here.

Special shoutout to @queenie-ofthe-void for not only their usual fabulous beta work, but also both the original idea and the writing of some of the secret admirer letters. You not only make me a better writer, but this work literally would not exist without you. <3<3

Title of the fic from the song Eyes in the Sun by Florist

[kombuuuu]

Somethin’ Soft for someone Tough.

Earth 42!Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

“Let me stitch you up, Miles.”

i ❤️ miles and he is so bf uhuh (i’m insane put me in a cell)

also he’s soooooo a simp in this, none of that ihu typa love his mama raised him RIGHT

warnings: injury, stitches, medical practices from someone who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing, some angst, slightly suggestive at times

I dot NOT speak spanish so if anyone is willing to help with translation for future fics, I would owe my life to you (and give early release? i dunno wtv u want babygirl)

—

Miles didn’t understand your hurt. He didn’t understand why you hated him being the Prowler—, didn’t understand you crying when you found out. Or your shame and disappointment when it came to his..

-Profession.

It confused him, he did this to keep you safe. He’d already lost enough, he can’t lose you. He won’t. You just didn’t get that.

Having you be mad at him, loath him, despise and detest him for being Prowler. It was easier than you dead because he wasn’t.

He would rather you hate him, than only have your memory.

So when he came home to you sleeping in his bed, waiting for him to return to you only two weeks after his initial reveal, he did nothing but lay down next to you and let your hand slowly drag into his. Interlocking your fingers in a twisted pattern of forgiveness and relief.

And he didn’t try to understand why.

—

It was warm this night, the heat of a summers Sun leaving Brooklyn a mucky kind of hot. Sweat dripping down the flesh of those still dwelling outside so late, only taking solace in the rare occasion of a breeze through their clothes.

Which is why you felt ever grateful lying in an air conditioned apartment dawned only in a pair of your lovers boxers and a ribbed white tank top.

It was the pair you bought him a while back when browsing street stalls, decorated with little cats and hearts. You thought they were funny, he was not impressed (but he was happy you were happy).

Miles had been out a lot lately. Assignments, as he called them, had been increasing in frequency as of late. Willing you more and more worried about the boy you loved, he just kept coming home injured.

Which you endearingly (aggressively) scolded him for, tones of care seeping into your monologue of being safer with his job whilst he huffed and puffed begrudgingly.

Assuring you he was nothing but careful,—

“Mami, ¿por qué iba a ser imprudente con mi vida cuando te tengo a ti para volver casa a? Alguien tiene que cuidar de ti.”

"Mami, why would I be reckless with my life when I have you to go home to? Someone has to take care of you."

A bashful murmur of “Just be more careful.” Would only reward you with a hand on your waist and the beginnings of a smile. You sighed out in boredom, draping a hand over your forehead dramatically. Spread out on Miles’ bed awaiting his return that’s seemingly taking years.

A crash outside your (boyfriends��) window alerted you out of your position, the piercing sound of metal scraping against metal grating your ears. Shooting up from your laid position, you messily shuffled off the bed, almost tripping over yourself to get to the figure struggling beyond the glass. A heavy claw dragged the window open with the apparent little strength it had left, heavy breaths and short rumbles of discomfort reaching your ears.

The neon pink of the Prowlers mask greeted you, quickening your aid in slamming open the window and catching Miles’ stumbling body from toppling through.

A husking groan sounded from your sweetheart as the mask slowly peeled back, revealing the trails of blood creeping from a cut in his lip.

“Hey, mami.”

Miles was gorgeous, he was a still picture of a painted deity in living form. The plump of his lips dripping a slow streak of burgundy did nothing to taint the sight of him, you wished it had, maybe you could be madder.

“Miles, what happened?” Your concern had outweighed your admiration, you were now fretting.

“I tripped.”

You scoffed something unbelieving, smiling despite the ache in your chest at the poor sight of him. Your emotionally stumped man.

“C’mon, baby, come inside.” Your right hand caressed the side of his face, left collecting his claw adorned fingers in yours to help him through and into his room.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he stepped over the sill, sucking in a breath and hoping you didn’t catch it.

Glancing up at you from his hunched position, you gaped back at him, unimpressed but worried.

He dropped your hands, the clasps on his gloves clicking, and the metal dropped to the ground with a dull thud. Pushing his arms back and letting his backpack fall too, he cracked his neck and winced again.

You all but pouted at him, reaching for his hurt body in discontent.

He leaned down to put his head on your shoulder, breath tickling your neck as he peppered you with light kisses, nipping your skin in just a graze. He wasn’t one to usually be so affectionate, but his guard always lowers with you, shoulders dropping and pulse quickening.

“No está tan mal, ma.”

"It's not so bad, ma."

His hand lifting from out of yours and onto your waist, circling the exposed skin between his boxers and your shirt.

His boxers,—

—,his hand twitched.

“Not that bad?” Your hushed voice bled of concern. “There’s a gash in your side!”

The simple serenity he had found buried in your neck had been ripped away from him in an instant.

You all but hauled his body to the bed, urging him to sit down against the sheets whilst he sulked grumpily behind you. Pushing against his chest and sitting him down.

You ran to his bathroom, washing your hands thoroughly before opening the cabinet under the sink, reaching back to the first aid kit you had placed here for this exact reason and towel, you rushed back to his room and shut the door behind you. “Amor, It’s just a—“ Cutting himself off, he hissed and cursed some under his breath.

“No digas que es sólo un corte.”

"Don't say it's just a cut."

“Mi sol, I have suffered worse.”

“Let me stitch you up, Miles.”

You turned back, shooting him an exasperated look while you threw the towel. Miles catching it without much effort and putting it under him. Flipping open the latch on the kit you sat yourself next to his bed, knees underneath you and digging harshly into the scuffed wood. You grabbed everything you assume you’d need, setting it on the open lid of the kit and focusing back on Miles.

“You look good like this, mami.”

You choked slightly, glaring up at him.

“Take off your jacket, Morales.”

"Sabes, si querías que me desnudara..."

"You know, if you wanted me to undress..."

“One more word.”

“Understood.”

He groaned as he did. Jacket falling off his shoulders and onto the bed, he pushed it to the floor beside you and spread his knees. You shuffled closer between them, lifting his shirt enough to see the damage on his torso and sighed shakily when figuring he was right.

It was just a graze, but a damn deep one. On the right of his torso, falling just under his ribcage was a thin, deep gash.

“What were you cut with, Papi?”

His stomach clenched as you prodded around, checking the wound for any signs of oncoming infection and signalling for him to take his shirt off.

“A knife, probably.”

Despite the weary of the situation, a smug look adorned his face. You poked his stomach, him wincing.

“Figures.”

You hid your smile.

He slipped his shirt over his head, grimacing at the pull of his wound. You took it from him and set it aside, getting an unopened bottle of water from the kit and pouring it over the cut. The water ran through the blood, trickling down his abs and soaking the waist band of his pants, he tipped his head back, groaning lowly in pain.

“Mami, entiendo que estés enojada, but please be gentle.”

"Mami, I understand that you're angry, but please be gentle."

He gazed down at you lazily, the drawl of his accent coating his voice syrupy in light of his injury. He looked downright sinful, braids draping lazily and shoulders dropped. Leaning back on his palms with his legs spread.

“I am gentle.”

“Sure.”

You focus returned to his wound, grabbing a clean hand towel and patting his cut dry, gently.

The occasional hiss or moan would interrupt you, but other than that Miles stayed relatively quiet. Watching you work as you fixed him.

“There, all done.”

“Not gonna kiss it better?”

You huffed, amused as you started to put everything back where it belonged. You could change the sheets and dispose of the hand-towels tomorrow, right now he just wanted you.

Miles grabbed your waist as you stood, hands slipping behind you to shove you forward into him. He buried his face into your stomach and sighed. You giggled lightly, the lack of a smile on his face tagged with the need for your touch was something no one but you could get used to. Your hand slowly trailed up his bare back, nails scratching lightly at his skin. He shivered, tightening his hold on you further.

“Lay down, baby.”

He whispered your name, “Chiquita, you take such good care of me.”

Humming, you unhooked his arms from you and pushed him to lie back by the tips of your fingers.

“Gon’ spoil you after this.”

You grabbed the towel, surprisingly dry and dropped it to the floor with the other discarded items.

“You already spoil me, Papi.”

Miles kicked off his shoes, sparing you a glance and a hum at the endearment.

“‘S’cause you deserve it.”

He unbuckled his belt, threading it out through the loops and threw it to land somewhere. You dragged the corner of the quilt back up to the both of you, stopping halfway. Miles sighed in annoyance, huffing at his pant button and cursing it as he fumbled to pull his pants down.

You giggled, “Need help, baby?” He scoffed lightheartedly. “I got it.”

“Mhm.” He eventually did get it, pulling his pants off and over his legs, coughing slightly at the wind crushing his cut had caused him.

“C’mere mami.” He grabbed your thighs, dragging you on top of him. “Mm—“ “Shh, it don’t hurt.” You let yourself relax slightly, mostly leaning on your need as not to hurt him.

The stars in his eyes as he looked up at you, he sighed quietly.

“It’s hot baby, we’re gonna get all sweaty.”

“Hopefully.”

“Miles.”

You rolled your eyes in a laugh, hooking your arms around his neck and leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Mm, there. Now you’re all better.”

He rubbed shapes into your thighs, loving the proximity. The way your breaths mingled and skin stuck together.

He thanked the Moon and the Stars for letting him keep you, begged every day to anyone out there that could hear him to tether your souls and kill him have he ever lose you. Would kill a million men to keep you safe, and he’d already had a running start.

He cleansed himself of his sins with your love, showering in the light you provided for him, and watched the blood of any man drip from his fingertips and into the rivers you’d created in his veins. Letting it mix with his own and beat by the tone of his heart. Which only ever raced for you. Only beat for you. He could only live for you, your love and acceptance.

Of which Miles would never understand why you loved him, and he would never try to.

“Much.”

He laid down, you following. Lying your head on his chest and listening to his breathing stutter at the contact.

It was late now, far later than a healthy time to finally sleep. But nothing could break the bubble of ease that now seemed to suffocate him. Lulling him into a slumber with his love against his heart.

—

first fic shoulllllf probably be fluff b4 i angst again

as angst is all i’m good for

i literally don’t know how to write fluff so pray it was good

IF ANY TRANSLATIONS WRONG PLESASSSSSE CORRECT ME

[eclecticpatrolroadlawyer]

Illicit affairs (chapter 2)

Chapter 1

Summary: Bucky and Y/n are in arranged marriage. Bucky is having an affair. This is all it is about... Let's see where Y/n's fate lies... Should we?

Pairings: Bucky x reader, Bucky x Dot ...

Genre: angst, affair, unrequited love

next day

Y/n's POV

The tea kettle's loud whistle pulled me back from my thoughts, and I remembered a moment—a moment that stung with disappointment.

As I took down the tea, the warmth of the steam evoked the chilling recollection of our wedding night. In the intimate dance of shared vows and whispered promises, Bucky's words had pierced the veil of anticipation. "Don't ever expect anything from this marriage," he had declared, the weight of his words settling like a heavy shroud.

The routine of making tea felt a bit sad, each step taking me back to that night. The sounds of cups and boiling water seemed to replay that moment when our hopes started to crumble.

As I lifted the cup, it held not just tea but also memories. The warmth of the liquid was mixed with the bitterness of that night, a night where promises felt broken. The smell of the tea carried the ghosts of our wedding, a reminder of a vow that seemed to fade, and the quiet acceptance of a marriage that had lost its sparkle.

I sigh when I see he's gone, probably meeting her under the excuse of jogging. Disappointment settles in my chest, and it feels like trust is slipping away. The air is thick with things we're not saying, and I take a deep breath to steady myself.

I decide to hit the supermarket while he is away, so I head to our shared bedroom to get ready.

half an hour later

at supermarket

In the bustling mart, my eyes catch a plushie perched high on the shelf. A whimsical desire takes hold, but I bite my lip, hesitating—I'm a grown woman, after all. Glancing around, I make sure no one's watching, and then, in a spontaneous moment, I decide to go for it.

Standing on my toes, I reach, my fingers brushing the soft plushie. Just as I stretch, someone's chest presses against my back. Startled, I turn to find a tall figure in a leather jacket, their presence both surprising and comforting.

Those green eyes meet mine, the contrast between the familiar and the unknown. Bucky's eyes held the depth of the sea, turbulent and mysterious, while this stranger's gaze resembled something serene about them, like a forest bathed in sunlight. It's a peaceful encounter, and for a moment, I forget the complexities that linger in the shadows. Unlike the stormy intensity of Bucky's ocean-blue gaze, these eyes carried a calm, a sense of peaceful allure that drew me in. With dark blonde hair and a hint of freckles, this stranger feels like a breath of fresh air, a divergence from the familiar.

Startled by the sudden closeness, I gasp and take an involuntary step back. My retreat, however, is met with a minor mishap—I lightly crash into the shelves. In that split second, just as I brace for impact, I feel the stranger's hand at the back of my head. It's a gentle touch, preventing my head from making contact with the shelves, even though the impact would have been light. The unexpected act of kindness leaves me momentarily flustered, caught between embarrassment and gratitude.

"I-I-..I'm sorry," I stutter, feeling the heat creeping up to my cheeks. Suddenly, words escape me, and I find myself at a loss, caught between embarrassment and an unspoken gratitude for the stranger's unexpected kindness.

"Are you okay?" I manage to ask, my heart beating a little faster. There's an unfamiliar feeling swirling within me, and for the first time in my life, it feels right.

The man chuckles, a light shake of his head accompanied by a crinkle near his eyes. He smirks, revealing a set of little white teeth, and speaks softly, "No worries, my lady… Actually, I should be the one asking you, are you okay, miss?" His green eyes lock onto mine, and a warmth spreads through me. I gulp down the breath that got punched out of me and find myself nodding, still unable to find words for the whirlwind of emotions. My brain insists it's wrong, but my heart seems to have its own answer ready.

In that fleeting moment, it feels like time stops. I find myself smiling, trying to take in every detail of his form—the way he styles himself, his unique way of speaking. It's as if everything about him becomes the focus in that small span of time—a love at first sight that catches me off guard.

8 months earlier

Dot's POV

"I can do it," I tell myself, taking a deep breath before entering the interview. My head held high, I step into the room, the confident click-clack of my heels echoing against the marble floor.

2 hours later

Walking through the park, I find a bench, sighing sadly as I take a seat. Muttering to myself, "Ugh, not again," I slump down, frustration evident in my sighs. "Why do I always get nervous?!" I groan, burying my head in my hands. "At this rate, I'll stay poor for the rest of my life," I whine, feeling overwhelmed.

Suddenly, a handkerchief touches me, and I look up to see a handsome man extending it towards me. His ocean-blue eyes draw me in, and for a moment, I'm lost, drowning in their depths. It takes me a few minutes to realize I've been staring, and I snap out of my thoughts, shaking my head. I smile at the man, stuttering, "Oh, I...th-thank you, sir. I'm sorry. You really didn't have to stop to help me, but thank you," I say, grateful and slightly flustered.

"Oh, my mother taught me better than to ever leave a crying woman or to ever make a woman cry," the man replies, smirking charmingly with a wink and adds "Especially when it's a beautiful woman like you, miss." As those words leave his lips, it's as if the man's looks, which were already a source of fluttering butterflies, now weave a spell on my heart. I feel a blush creeping up as I glance down, nodding shyly in acknowledgment. "Thank you," I murmur softly, accepting the handkerchief with a light touch, my heart still dancing to the charming melody of his words.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, not trying to be nosy, but may I know why you are crying, beautiful?" The man asks, taking a seat beside me while maintaining a respectable distance. His blue eyes, as usual, lock onto my brown ones, managing to steal my breath away. I maintain my composure, nodding as I reply, "Just knowing I messed up my job interview." Sighing, I look down, my fingers clenching the soft fabrics of the given handkerchief, my lower lip caught between my teeth as I reflect on the interview.

The sound of a clap pulls me out of my thoughts, and I find the man smiling at me. "Oo! I think I know how to bring up your mood…Wanna have a cup of coffee with me? I know the best place." I look at him, unsure, considering he's still a stranger. Before I can voice my thoughts, he continues, "Oh! Sorry…I forgot to introduce myself. I'm James… James Buchanan Barnes. In short, Bucky or Buck." He extends his hand as he introduces himself.

I smile involuntarily as I take his hand and shake it. "Pleasure to meet you, James. I'm Dottore… Just call me Dot," I introduce myself with a hint of warmth in my smile.

Third person's POV

Who would've thought that this random meeting could turn into something so special? It became a beautiful story, defying expectations and creating a connection that wasn't supposed to happen. From a simple park encounter, something magical unfolded—a tale of love that wasn't allowed, something forbidden, filled with both joy and heartbreak. In simple words, it turned into an 'Illicit Affair,' a story written by fate and emotions, painting a picture of love in unexpected places.

Bitter always follows the sweet,

especially when it comes to love.

Especially when it comes to forbidden love.

-Karina Halle

(WANNA GUESS THE GUY WHO Y/N MET AT THE SUPERMARKET?😆I GAVE ENOUGH HINTS...EVEN THOUGH THEY ARE HIS FACE FEATURES 🤭 BUT HE IS FROM SOMETHING SUPERNATURAL GENRE TV SERIES AND OLD ONE)

Note: Hey guys! Hope you like it. English is actually my second language so if there's any mistake you can inform me by messaging me privately. And PLEASE REBLOG AND DON'T STEAL MY WORK. Please like and comment too so, that I can know your views. Thank you for reading guys! Have a nice day and please comment if you wanna be tagged in.

Taglist: @angstysebfan @cjand10@learisa@themorningsunshine @binkszamsstuff

@dreamerglassesgirl @winterslove1917 @perfectpieslimeprune @nikkivillar @bethexo07 @vicmc624 @pattiemac1 @ozwriterchick

[bigfan-fanfic]

I'll Always Worry (Spiderbro x Peter Parker PLATONIC)

Spiderbro taking care of peter after a mission cleaning his cuts, making him dinner and setting a bath for him and listening to him rant about whatever is on his mind also offers cuddles since my peter love language is physical touch

"Where's May?"

"Out. She's gonna be at a F.E.A.S.T. meeting all weekend, so I'm in charge."

Peter nods, and you see him for the first time. "Holy shit, Pete!"

He's covered in scratches, some of which are still bleeding, and didn't even try to get out of his Spider-Man suit, which is practically shredded.

He barely reacts when you snap into action, pushing your laptop aside and half-carrying him to his bed.

You help him get the wretched fabric off, and spend a while cleaning his scratches and cuts.

"Dude, what happened?"

Peter launches into a full on tirade and well, you asked. You sometimes forget that he doesn't have anyone to talk about this stuff with besides you, because your mom will worry about him even more than she already does and his friends don't quite get it

So you let him vent, and ask questions where needed

And watch the tension practically drain out of him as he talks himself all out of steam.

"Well... that sucks, buddy." You chuckle, and are relieved to see Peter smile wanly.

"I should get back out there...." he says softly, and you clear your throat.

"I'm in charge, Pete. Remember? So you're gonna stick right here. You need to recharge your batteries."

"But what if people are out there that I can help? With great power... comes great responsibility."

Your dad was a good man. But you have a feeling that Peter is making his last words into almost a mantra for existence as opposed to the dying words of a man desperately trying to distill all the paternal advice he would be unable to give into something, anything.

"You also have a responsibility to yourself, Peter. And part of having great power is knowing your limits. You can't help anyone if you hurt yourself doing it." you say sternly.

You gently take Peter by the shoulder, and he leans into the touch.

Thankfully, he relents. "I still feel guilty, though."

"Well, feel guilty in a bubble bath. I'm gonna make something for dinner for us, and I want you all melty and relaxed."

He chuckles. "I haven't had a bubble bath since I was a kid."

"You still are a kid, kid." You tease. "So relax, will ya?"

He raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay..."

He takes a while, so you go all out with dinner, making some cheese sandwiches, grilled with butter and smeared with a homemade pesto, and with some freshly cut tomato. You make a nice pile of them, and serve them with some soup.

Peter emerges in a loose white shirt and shorts, and he smiles at the meal you've made.

The sound of you two eating dominates the table - the food too good and the comfort too sweet to bother talking.

But finally when seconds and thirds are finished and your bellies almost uncomfortably full, you tell Peter this weekend is a recharge time. No Spider-Man.

You expect him to protest, but instead he nods, and he just... looks so lost.

"I figured we'd catch up with each other over the weekend. You know, order some pizza, play some games, chill."

"I'd like that."

"You wanna watch a movie with me?"

He nods again, and you grin at the eclectic collection of themed Band-Aids dotting his arms and legs.

You both crash on the couch, grabbing some blankets, but very soon, you stretch out an arm, and he leans against you.

Peter melts into the side hug, like he always does. The poor kid seems to crave physical affection.

Remembering when he first came to live with you all, when his parents died... he needed that loving, to make sure he knew he wasn't alone.

He became your little brother then, not just your cousin. And that first night he fell asleep in your arms, you promised yourself you would protect him.

It's become harder to protect him these days, but at least you can be here for this.

Your little brother falls asleep against you, and you let him rest, smiling a little as you watch the movie on a lower volume, watching over him.

[spyderlondon]

An au, where everyone’s memories are lost including the crew thinking they were ever real/humans when they got transported into the digital circus, they all think they are their respective characters and act as their characters personalities, heavily deviating from the ones in the show

Pomni a semi crazy goofy jester

Kinger…. A normal king

Jax, a helpful voice of reason(with a little southern accent)

And so on

A/N: .......evil Caine route? Evil Caine route. Definitely no showtime in this- it'd be far too toxic. There will be a referenced BunnyDoll though.

CW: Mind wiping, mental manipulation, puppeteeing unwilling participants, amnesia, loss of free will

Art by @00belle00lovely00

Pulling All the Strings

Ko-Fi

----

There was a small gasp then a groan as a small woman awoke in a dark room with no light visible aside from a small crack under, what she assumed, was a door, "Ugh... where-where am I...?" She mumbled quietly.

There was an almost unnoticeable dark chuckle from the corner of the room, "Seems my new puppet has awoken from her sleep~" A voice called out as she was forced onto her feet slowly and steadily as if strings were pulling her upwards against her will.

Her eyes widened in fear as she began struggling, attempting to get away. Only to feel her flesh being cut into by the invisible threads. She could only gasp in pain, "Let go! Let me [^^%*&^%] go, you ba-" She cried out as the strings seemed to yank against her neck, threatening to cut deep if she spoke another word.

Once the woman went silent and the figure seemed to feel slowly stop to struggle, he spoke up again, "They always struggle." He sighed as he on the strings once more before loosening them up, "Always struggle, almost always curse. You're all so... human." He hissed out 'human', sounding disgusted by the word. He went silent as he looked down at her, only his glowing narrowed eyes could be seen. It was as if he was examining her, judging her, figuring out who she was, "Hm, yes, you'd make a wonderful jester~" It sounded as if he was grinning, "Let me adjust your mind a tad..."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN AD- Ack!" She was silenced with another pull of the invisible string on her neck, drawing blood.

"Now, now, pet. You needn't worry about a thing..." A hand was placed on top of her head, forcing her to peer up into his heterochromatic eyes that began to quickly flash with dots and strobbing lights. She attempted to shut her eyes to avoid looking into his but that merely resulted in tiny strings taking her eyelids and forcing them open, "Do not look away from your new puppet master." He commanded with a low growl. She whimpered in fear as she had no choice but to submit to him, gazing into his flashing, wide eyes, "Good, my little jester~ Just stay like that..." He mumbled as watched the color from her eyes slowly dull from the bright violet coloration they once had and slowly had the colors separate into blue and red in a pinwheel pattern before her eyes were allowed to flutter shut.

------

"Pomni. Wake up. Time to prepare for the show." A voice spoke out, waking the jester from her sleep.

She rose as if booting up like a computer. She looked up at the floating figure in front of her with blank eyes for a moment as if registering who she was looking at- red coat... white under shirt... black pants... top hat... oh! "Hello! Caine!" She greeted as she jumped out of her bed with a bright, kind've unnatural smile on her face.

Caine hid a smirk as he watched the girl- his new puppet. His new 'AI' smile at him while rocking back and forth on her feet as if waiting orders from him. He hummed as he silently looked her up and down, admiring his work on the jester. She had a black and red color scheme unlike her blue and red eyes but her outfit had entirely changed- she had a hat on that completely covered her hair with the front part of it going down in between her eyes and barely going over the bridge of her nose with little yellow bells on the ends of the liliripes; she had a dark red vest with little purple jewels attached on the lapels; gray long sleeves that had cyan embroidery on it of some swirly patterns as well as the letters 'C&A' on the shoulders; she had dark blue and crimson gloves on her hands; her tights were black and red alternating zig zags; and her shoes were like her gloves dark blue and crimson.

The ringmaster rolled his shoulders a bit, "Hello, my dear." He mused as he greeted her, "I apologize for how I had to force you into sleep mode last night, you were just acting out too much. I had to reprogram you a bit." He explained with a feigned sigh of disappointment, "But, don't you worry, any injuries sustained were patched up Bubble!" He clapped his hands together as if everything was going as normal as always. Pomni's programming simply messed up and had to be fixed after!

"Oh! Sorry for whatever I messed up on, Ringmaster!" The jester apologized with a silly bow before glancing up at him to see him chuckling in amusement, brightening her mood up.

"Ah, it's all okay. No harm, no foul after all, my dear." He waved off, "But we mustn't stand here chatting! Jax and Ragatha's act should be over here soon! You are up next, my dear, the audience mustn't be kept waiting after all!" He urged her to get ready before he zipped off to check on the current act.

----

"You cannot see

How much I long to be free..."

A stiff looking rag doll was spinning on a large music box in the center of the main stage of the circus- she was dancing around as if she was nothing but a decoration on the mechanical contraption.

Near her was a purple rabbit with a yellow light jacket on top of a seafoam green shirt and dark yellow pants. He was moving and dancing around as if under control of an invisible puppetmaster, "Truly Scrumptious~" He sang towards the doll despite how she never glanced his way and remained ever turning, "And if I may seem presumptuous..." He danced over to the mirrors attached to the music box and looked at himself like it was choreographed... until he paused and stared himself in the mirror as if he saw a flaw on himself.

"Turning around-" The doll's eye subtly wandered towards the rabbit and noticed what he was doing, she could tell the audience and the now nearby Caine, were becoming suspicious by the rabbit's actions, "-on this music box that's..." She waited until she rotated closer to him before jolting a tiny to ram his face into the mirror, making him stumble a bit and looked around.

There was laughing from the audience and the rabbit went back to singing, "Never... never... ever..." He wandered back in front of the doll's music box where he saw a hand close to his and he couldn't but use his puppet like movements to get close to trying to give her hand a kiss.

"Wound by a key." Her moved upwards quickly, slapping one of his ears lightly- causing more laughter from the crowd.

"Go away." She made sure her arms and head moved in a perfect, robotic motion as she spun and tried to ignore the blush that tinted her cheeks a little when she saw him try to kiss her hand.

"Yearning..."

"My heart beats so unruly..." The bunny placed a hand on his chest and had it move like a heartbeat.

"Yearning..."

"Because I love you truly..." He opened his arms wide as if to get a hug from the doll.

"While I'm..." The doll sent him a small look that told him to 'stop it'.

"Honest, Truly..." The rabbit hugged himself instead.

"Turning around and around." She suddenly became frozen, the music box no longer turning.

"I do." He halfway flopped downwards, the tips of his ears barely touching the ground.

Once the music ended and there was a roar of cheering amongst the crowd, Caine popped in between two, "...meet me in my office after the show..." He ordered the two of them silently, his eyes glowing a bit as the two of them gave a quick nod before running backstage.

The ringmaster looked up to the audience, "Weren't they wonderful, audience?!" Everyone in the stands cheered loudly, "Hope our next act, the jester can impress us all just as much!" He roused up the crowd, getting them excited for the new jester.

The rag doll and rabbit stared in horror from behind the currents as they heard the announcement of a jester. The doll had to grip the rabbit to keep herself from letting her mask fall, not when another character was so close by, "He got a new person..." She mumbled under her breath, her voice trembling as she watched Pomni make her way up to where the trapeze platform were, "...we have no net to catch her if she falls..." Her face paled, "Jax..." Her grip tightened.

Jax put a hand on hers and tightened it a bit, "Caine can control her, she'll be fine, Rags..." He murmured to her, his own eyes never leaving the sight as well. Especially now that the jester had begun her performance.

-----

Song used in the fic: "Doll on a Music Box" from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

[myraniellejkelly]

A Bitterness Welcome

╰┈➤ Suguru Niragi x Reader

Part 1 | Part 3

Author’s note: I’m planning on part three sooner or later, enjoy the fic.

Another note: This only be focus on Y/N’s story, sorry ya’ll for wanting Suguru Niragi in this story, so don’t worry I’m working on it, all images aren’t mine, and grammars ahead.

Warning: vulgar language, alcohol, smoking, mentions of suicide, and a slight angst ahead.

Summary: Y/N was invited to hang out with Arisu and his friends, so she instead take a break from work.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Karube: Hey, where you guys at?

Arisu: Be there in three minutes, I’m almost there.

Chota: Guys, I hate to break it to you.

Chota: I have extended one hour to work on full paperwork to do because of my boss.

Chota: Sorry guys, I’m gonna be busy today.

Karube: So if Chota may not gonna be there, then...

Karube: Hey Arisu is Y/N gonna be there?

Arisu: I sure hope she does, she never replied to us at all.

Karube: Does she always focus work instead of us?

Karube: I hate to admit, she doesn’t fucking care about us.

Arisu: Karube, she’s been through a lot, I know she may not be the type of friend who always hangout all the time.

Arisu: Look, she’s my neighbour and I wanted her to be like herself.

Karube: I swear, it hadn’t been a while and I don’t seem to know Y/N anymore, she’s just a basic stranger who’s your neighbour, Arisu.

Arisu: Karube, she’s not a stranger, she’s always this upset about the thing she does.

Arisu: I feel bad and I’m worried about her, just give it a chance.

Karube: Fine, I’m just saying because the Y/N that I know, used to be so nice, freely, shy, and swaying all around.

Y/N joined in the chat

Y/N: You all need to stop spamming shit for three minutes.

Karube: And there she is, the rude and distant bitch.

Y/N: Hello to you too, Karube.

Y/N: I’ll be there in six minutes.

Y/N walked by in the streets as she came after when Arisu showed up where they would meet; she wears a designable sleeveless top: white with polka dots and a turquoise coloured of her top, and bell bottom jeans with sneakers; she has multiple accessories: black bracelet, silvered rings on her right hand, ring piercing earrings on her left ear, including a lip ring on the left side of her bottom lip and a heart necklace.

She was carrying with her bag around as she check the time from her phone. Y/N look at her surroundings while it’s crowded around in Shibuya, waiting for the traffic light to go on and then she walked on the crosswalk. It was sunny and bright outside, Y/N sighs and moved quickly in the streets; Arisu met up at the middle in front of the building, just as when Karube stood there and saw him.

“Arisu!”

Arisu ran and happily laughed as they have their own high-five: bro to bro, then they pat their back afterwards. Karube grins then turned as he frown as Y/N isn’t here and said, “I guess, it’s just the two of us.”

“Hopefully, she’s here.”

Karube sighs and rolled his eyes impatiently, in fact Y/N might’ve lied from the beginning; he believe that it’s always her making excuses to not show up at all, except for Chota who’s still working on paperworks. He muttered in waits of her coming by, but all they get was the crowd and not Y/N; Karube isn’t waiting any longer for more than six minutes when she told them over a text message. In fact, it’s more than six minutes already, itching the back of his neck and that Arisu was hoping that she’ll be here.

“You know what… she really is a lost cause anyways,” he said, taking out his phone and start smoking. Arisu was in disbelief and swore she was coming by, but all he truly care was for her to be happy.

The clear view in Shibuya had gotten more quiet, more less crowded, and more without Y/N being around. Arisu was upset while Karube was irritated. Until someone approached from the behind as Arisu first saw her and said, “Y/N!”

Karube turned around and made him skip a beat when he flinch as she was right in front of her. “Jesus! Y/N!” he shouted, putting his hand on his chest. “You scared the shit of me!”

As Y/N laughed and had took her time while them not noticing what she did: Karube’s bracelet was gone. She steal it and hid behind her back while Arisu laughed and didn’t know for the moment. He was honestly happy to see her showing up, and that at least he could see the old Y/N who’s acting pretty much like herself. He didn’t expected of how different she was, Arisu didn’t know she has piercings and even her style change. Before, it was her formal attire and now she is in her preppy punk attire.

“Heya, Karube!” she said with a big smile, despite looking so distraught in the inside. Karube slowly smiled and used his right hand without his bracelet and high-five, “What’s up big man?”

“Jeez as I thought you’re some bitch who already ditch us,” he said. Arisu notice Y/N was holding behind her back as he was about to open his mouth. Y/N looked at Arisu and give him a sign ‘Shush’ with a mischievous smile on her face quickly, then she turned back; pretending like she didn’t steal it from him.

“Who couldn’t thought, a dickhead, would think I’m betraying the offer,” as her eyes pointed at Arisu then back to him, “all thanks to him, who’s at my office and asked me to hangout.”

“Are you held hostage or something?” he joked with a big grin and chuckled.

“If I were held hostage, you guys would’ve bring me to one of your guys’ bizarre adventures.”

“You could say that.”

Y/N glare at him and slowly asked, “What do you mean by that?”

Karube made that filthy grin as it caught her off guard. “I don’t like where this is going…” she said while glaring at his eyes, as if she might’ve know or heard of it. “Neither, I don’t want an answer from you.”

“Well since…” as when he moved his hands, Karube felt something off and light like his bracelet must’ve been gone off. He looked at his right wrist and said, “Who the hell took my bracelet?”

Arisu’s eyes widened in silence, crossing his arms as he were about to tell the truth but couldn’t; Y/N got the best of him as she grin at him. “It’s not what you think, Karube, I never steal anything from you, y-you know that?”

“True, we’ve been friends for quite some time, but not as much as Y/N…” Karube turned to Y/N in frown. “What? I just think it looks dangling and shiny,” she said and giggled like a child.

“Damn it, woman,” he said. “Give it back!” as he curls his fingers and want his bracelet back.

Y/N raised her hands up high as she surrender in defeat, while holding on to his bracelet from her left hand. The chain of his bracelet shakes while she made an innocent smile. Karube rolled his eyes in annoyed and snatch away from her, then he place it back on to his wrist. “As I was saying… since Chota takes another one hour, how about some drinks at my bar?”

“So, we’re waiting for him?”

“Of course, unlike you wanted us to ditch him, is it?” he said and frown, like it was his biggest complains of her showing up. Y/N slowly frown coldly and stare at his gaze.

“Karube, come on, Y/N has been through enough.”

Karube sighs as he knows Arisu was trying to get the gang together again; he doesn’t want to make Arisu even more upset, but the past is still holding on to him more. Karube glares at her even more, “Don’t mess up for the three of us, including you into this. We know how much it really means for us in bringing you here, luckily, Arisu was there when he knew you where just there. A chance that we can get to see you all day long.”

Y/N looked at him coldly, standing so still while she listen to everything what he said, “It’s been a while but there’s something about you that really bugs me so much of,” as he moved past after her, then Arisu followed along with him.

But he turns to look at Y/N with worries, “Y/N, don’t worry about all of this, Karube, maybe a bit too focused on the things that you did. But it wasn’t your fault at all, I swear, this is just some misunderstanding.”

“Well tell to that asshole to piss off.”

“Y/N—”

Y/N walked past at a fast pace in anger, “I’m moving along.”

Arisu sighs and follow along with them.

⋆♤˚⟡˖ ࣪🃁 🂺 ˖⟡˚ ♤

About an hour since Chota showed up just in time, the three of them sat down on the stool, while Karube was cleaning the table. Then he poured them some alcohol on their glass on the table.

“It’s so good to see you again, Y/N,” said Chota with a cheerful smile. “Sorry for the late,” as he shortly bow for the waits.

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said, chuckling at him. “It’s been a while like it’s just yesterday,” as Y/N hold the glass and twirl around as she drink the alcohol.

Chota laughed and drinks, then Arisu also drinks and blinked as his eyes fixated the problems with Y/N and Karube: they give each other a glare to one another. It gotten silence for almost three minutes, making Chota and Arisu given an awkward look, they watched them staring at their drinks but not to them eye to eye.

“What did I miss after being my another one hour at work?” Chota whispered. “They seem to be very… very, very in each other’s throats for three minutes.”

“It’s one of their silent argument going on because Y/N had not been with us for few years, plus she’s been through a lot; Karube thought Y/N didn’t care about either of us as her friends,” Arisu whispered. “He even thinks Y/N is ungrateful, selfish, but I don’t know what to do about this.”

“So this again, another one of their silent argument?” he asked, remembering the time that neither Y/N or Karube even get along. It’s like an on-and-off friendship between two people who cares about each other then hate each other.

“Yeah.”

Karube and Y/N keep drinking and drinking while they looked down, not facing each other and looking away. The silence speaks too much volume, Chota and Arisu could sense the loudness of silence speaking to them.

“So… I’m gonna ask, Y/N?” Chota asked and start the conversation.

Y/N turned to him and said, “Hmm?” as she dragged her tired eyes on him, laying her face on to her knuckles and lifted her eyebrow at him.

“Why did you decide to become a therapist?”

A loud sound coming from her glass when she lays it down firmly on the bar table, Y/N heavily sigh and groaned as she tried to talk properly to them.

“Well… it’s not because I want to emotionally or physically break everyone’s characteristics, and made them psychologically unstable just to press every buttons in their mental state. Seeing their weakness and their potential or values depending on their struggles but…” Y/N tapped her fingers on the bar table and continue, “…the reason being is, my mom is a psychiatrist and my dad is a doctor, technically I always follow one of my parent’s footsteps, so I decided I want to be a therapist and held people I can do.”

She proceeds to drink and then, “And for all I care about some shitty reasons.” Y/N covered her face for a moment and sigh as she couldn’t bear to handle her own problems. Then she look back at them blankly with tiring voice when she spoke, “After when my mom passed, I’ve always wanted to be like her, who help others like I really do but… it’s just too hard to act like everything is okay.”

Karube’s gaze softened and looked down after realizing what she’s going through; he felt bad for reacting out on her and was a bit ashamed for saying the things. The fact that he missed her, makes him want to hate her more. At a slight that it bothers him so much to the point he ask himself why it made him so mad about it; he misunderstood from her side.

“I study so much about psychology as much as I hate knowing that I become less of myself,” she explained, putting her pointy finger and spin around the thin-lipped of the glass. “I talk to a lot of my patients, some of them move on… some aren’t…”

Karube pinch the bridge of his nose and become impulsive and asked, “Then why didn’t you quit being a therapist?” as it caught Arisu and Chota’s attention in shocked. Karube shouldn’t asked her like that but he wasn’t hesitant and isn’t careful with his words properly, he can’t at least hear her out or give her a chance to speak: deep down, he hated when he talk like this.

“Karube—” Chota tried to stopped him but Karube couldn’t cut out for this, and kept complaining as he let it all out from his mouth.

“Okay listen…” as he pointed at her, “…you know I’m getting really annoyed to the point on why she ever was our friend at the beginning? I mean, you moved into Arisu’s neighborhood and yet, there she is Y/N L/N, the girl from before and a strange for few years.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in silent.

“I get that your job is so important more than any of us in here, but you never texted nor talk to us for a year… like how many did we text you and your calls during that day?” he said with a little tinge of anger, her eyes widened and felt ashamed in not responding to anything. “Because you… you never explain anything to us but you keep moping a single shit about yourself.”

“Karube, you need to—”

“I’m not done!” as he turned back to Y/N after he shouted at them. “The last time I met you, you were so bright, happy and cheerful and where she is now? Maybe, she doesn’t care about us, nor having close contact and it’s just bullshit!”

No response to Chota and Arisu.

It became silent for a second then he continue complaining, “It felt like as if you abandoned us and all because you never seen in us as those group of friends who cares about you,” as Y/N rested her head on her fingertips. Chota was about to gently comfort her in holding her shoulder but… Y/N stopped as quickly take his hand away as he heavily sighs from it. “You know a damn well that you never felt the same for us,” as he chuckle off in anger, “Y/N L/N, of course that’s what she is. She just never respond and ghosted us, she’s cold and distant, rude much that she doesn’t give a fuck.”

The silence became loud like never before and it becomes more crowded between four of them, Karube keeps complaining and is tired of it. “You know that’s how friends were, they change and move on, forget every friend their most dear with. A girl like you with a coldness at heart inside, you fucking piss me off so much to brag about everything in—”

Y/N banged the bar table as Chota and Arisu were genuinely flinch, she clenched her teeth and dragging her cold eyes on that bartender man who complains.

“Who the fuck say I didn’t care?” as she spoke calmly and her eyes never blinked, “Have you heard of being busy all day, just to get my ass to come back. I never have time to hangout with you guys because most importantly I had to deal with this thing called emotionally stress, dipshit.”

Karube heavily sigh and rested the side of his side on to his fingertips. I was grieving… I was in so much pain that time,” she said, “so, why complaining about all of those things, you just make me look bad as if I shouldn’t been friends with you all in the beginning. You know there’s so much things you don’t know about me. I hold so much grudge and regrets in my life, priors that I had to keep watching those people die the last time I saw them.”

Karube furrowed his eyebrows in silence and he fucked up pretty bad. “There’s so many patients who deal with suicide, you know? People die and what does it get me? Nothing… just nothing, I had to keep myself distance away from everything. I was so tired that my eyes burns in a second it start to came out,” she said, never broke eye contact on Karube, who listens everything to what she says.

He knows so much that he would be ashamed of himself for saying that to her. “That’s what I hate about my job and that’s the very little thing I hate about myself, is that I watched them quickly dying in a second I came here. Everything I did was making them feel worse and…” she paused and clenched her hands, covering her face as she shakily sigh.

Then she grabbed her hair and slick it back, Y/N continue, “… and then I made it worse,” as she pointed at herself like she admitted that she blame everything for it, “just for all of you,” she said, then pointing directly at him. “As for you, you’re such a dick sometimes, Karube, just grow the fuck up. You got a life going on and so did them as well as people know that I don’t.”

Y/N scoffed and broke eye contact, looking down at the bar table, feeling furious and couldn’t express herself. “Do you… all really think of me that way?” the boys looked at her in guilt, “That I bitch, I ditch, I ignore, I ghosted, I was selfish, I distance away, and I was cold or heartless, isn’t it?” as she look at them in the eyes and little sparks may appear as there’s little left in her, when her friends were the only thing she may appear as human.

Unexpectedly, the boys don’t know how to word it out and with the right word to say to her. Y/N slowly nodded and understood that actions really spoke more than words. “Okay…” her voice was a little low and crack, “I doubt that… none any of you have the right words to say to me, honestly, I understand.”

Y/N get off on the stool and walked away then leaves, she was outside and stand there. Clenching her hands and shakily breathing as she took out a pack of cigarettes from her bag, then she takes one and put it on her mouth. She struggles to maintain her friendship and severe grief she’s holding, aside from everything, is that she always pushes everyone and drive them away from her life. She couldn’t fix it to what is being done.

And for all she thought inside of her head, Y/N had gone off just heartless without holding a tear: a blank cold stare to the sky and pretends that she feels the tears begin to sting. Meanwhile, the boys were stunt to speak after an argument in the bar; Arisu looked down trying to provide an explanation to Y/N after the argument; Chota was really upset that he pulls his gaze on Karube and tried to speak him up, the way he acted upon her; Karube felt like a n average dick and instantly regrets what he said that hurt her completely.

“Shit,” Karube said, he was given a headache after that argument turned out. He hissed, slamming the table as Karube swings the bar mop towel at the alcohol beverages; the rest of the alcohol beverages falls on the floor and it breaks. “Fuck! My boss is gonna kill me,” he quietly spoke to himself, putting down the bar mop towel on the table and trying to clean it up.

“Karube,” Chota said with a frown.

Karube stopped and heard him as he stand up, looking at him in glare, “What?! I admitted that this is my fault, okay, I shouldn’t lash out on her,” he heavily sigh, trying to massage his forehead, “you know how hard it is for me without Y/N around to go talk shit about.”

“Then why arguing with her?”

“It’s been few years, Chota, haven’t you thought about it for a while now?” said Karube, having a reason why he is mad about.

“It’s true…” Chota agrees and looked away.

Arisu laid his face in his hands and sighs. “But me and Arisu never blame her for personal reasons, she change and she’s just Y/N being Y/N,” said Chota, as he cares so much about her and hadn’t even thought for a while now. “She’s just a workaholic and maybe depressed some times, it’s hard for one of us to understand her…”

Karube takes a deep breath and hadn’t move on from the past, his fingers turn white on the edge of the bar table and said, “Look.. she hadn’t even come close, talk, or hang around and I…”

He was upset after he paused then proceed, “…I missed her and… she was the only person who I could rant shit about and I guess… I’ve took too far from it.”

“Yeah asshole,” said Chota and drinks the glass of alcohol. He sighs and still eyes on Karube while Arisu turned behind him, looking at the transparent door and saw Y/N standing there smoking. Karube said, “I mean… I was worried sick of everything, if she might’ve pushed herself over her limits. I love her as if she was my little sister and that I wanted to protect her.”

“Never thought, you would think of her that way after you two keep having this on and off friendship going on; you spat her shit and she spat your shit,” said Chota, “you guys act as if you were like siblings and I can see that from you.”

As he lifted his eyebrow and glare, “Of course, we’ve missed her, dumbass, why mention about everything she did. Like, we misunderstood her that we don’t know anything of her,” he said, “okay, it’s been a while and she hadn’t gotten used to like we used to do back then.”

Karube sigh, “You know what… I’m just gonna…” as he put down the bar mop towel and hop over the bar table, then he ran out of his bar and came outside.

“There he is again saving the day, Mr. I’m-sorry-for-what-I-did,” said Chota as he turned to watch Karube, talking to Y/N.

Karube ran to her as Y/N turned in shock, he hugged her as she was confused but a little mad. “Prick, what the absolute fuck you doing?” she muffled from being wrapped around by his arms, while he hugging her.

“I apologize… I’m sorry for lashing out on you,” he apologized. “I didn’t see what you were doing for few years, I didn’t mean to say how horrible you are. You must’ve been overwhelmed while talking to other people,” as Y/N gradually rolled her eyes but understood with sincere of his apology, “but… I missed you, Y/N, I mean we missed you being there with us all the time.”

She scoffed and sigh, hugging him back and lay her head on his chest, “We’re worried sick of you, or so we thought you forgot about us. You never respond back to our calls or texted us, it’s infuriating me.”

“Are you done with your apology monologue speech?”

Karube looked at her down while Y/N stares at him coldly, “You’re not mad, aren’t you?”

“No, I was mad at myself for not acting the way I used to, I always started with an argument then we made up then going on repeat,” she said, while she smokes. “Also, during your apology,” as Y/N showed his necklace in her left hand, “I manage to steal your jewelry again.”

“Y/N!”

“What? I always had a hobby of pick-pocketing things,” she said, chuckling and gave him back his necklace.

“So, do you still forgive me?”

Y/N punched him in the shoulder so rough, that he grunted and hissed in pain, “Agh! What was that for?!”

“Get a hold of yourself, I’ve been a horrible person after not realizing that I hurt everyone around me, including the people I care,” she said. “Which means, I shouldn’t be the one who asked forgiveness from you and even for them.”

“Of course, we all do forgive you, Y/N.”

Y/N scoffed and blows a smoke of cigarette at his face, it made Karube sting his eyes. “Woman! You bitch! What the fuck?!” he shouted, “You still mad at me?”

She crossed her arms and hissed at tinge of her anger, “A little just to get your ass down in the dump,” then she inhale her cigarette, “and by the way, haven’t you gotten your proposal yet?”

Karube was surprised and covered her mouth, “Who the fuck told you that?” he whispers. Y/N moved his hand away from her mouth, “You know I could tell the sense of your gaze over that woman you work with… hmm… let me guess…” as she muttered random names: “…Asuka… Keiko… Amaya… Hana…”

Until she snapped her fingers and smirk at him, “Emi.”

He sighs and admitted, “Yes, I was going to propose to her.”

“But you really are an asshole who keeps making out with her, despite that she’s your boss’s girlfriend,” she sighs and realizing the result of one’s affairs, “I really expected you better than this, rather you keep on cheating with the boss’s girlfriend and the affair really went on and on. I’m not pushing you into this, it’s on you and not me.”

Karube watches Y/N walking back to the bar and said, “Just don’t—”

“I’m not telling anyone, Karube, just get back in here!”

Then he ran back to the bar, Chota and Arisu looked at them; they both made up after he apologized and well they suspect that they would argue about several times. “What took you so long? We hadn’t gotten to make popcorn yet,” said Chota jokingly as Arisu laughed with a big smile.

“We’re cool now.”

“Good,” Chota nodded and so did Arisu, “good.”

“Why are we stopping?” as Karube wrap his hand around her shoulder tight then smiled and said, “Since Y/N is here, you know what we should do?”

The boys slowly smirk at each other, then to Y/N as her eyes widened and thought, Oh, not that filthy smirk… oh shit, are we going to—

“A Motel Nightclub!”

I am so fucked…

[annymation]

Okay, I know Valentine's Day just passed, but how would a Valentine's Day interaction go with Aster and Asha? What would each of them do for each other on Valentine's Day?

Sorry for the VERY late reply, haven't got much time to answer lately, and before I didn't have much inspiration for this one, but @uva124 gave me an idea, so here's a little Valentine's day story

Asha decided that for Valentine's day she'd make a painting for Aster, a painting of a field of purple aster flowers, with a beautiful night sky.

However, because she's quite the perfectionist, and not as skilled with painting as she is with drawing, she felt like the painting wasn't quite good enough no matter what she did. So for days before Valentine's day arrived she'd hide in her room trying to finish it, not letting Aster see it.

But then the day actually arrives and she loses track of time trying to finish it, before she knows it it's already close to night time

*knock knock*

"Asha? You're in there?" Aster asks worried from outside her room

"A-AH! Don't come it yet! I'm busy!" Asha has her hands and arms all covered in paint as she tries to hide her unfinished work behind a cloth

"I know, you said so earlier but... Valentine's day is almost over, do you wanna hang out?" Aster sounded a bit sad that they didn't even see each other earlier

Asha looks surprised noticing it's indeed sunset, she completely lost track of time "Oh no! Ugh I knew I should've used acrylic paint!" She says in frustration

(For those who don't know, acrylic paint dries way faster than oil paint, I'd know, I used to make oil paintings)

"What are you talking about" Aster says coming in the room, they see her covered in paint "*gasp!* You were painting!?" He smiles widely "I didn't know you knew how to draw AND paint too!"

"That's because I honestly don't know how to paint, this turned out a mess" She points to the canvas hidden behind a piece of cloth

"... Let me be the judge of that" Aster walks in and pulls out the cloth to see her art.

The night sky is full of white dots splattered around that do resemble stars, and the purple field of flowers looks quite messy because the flowers all sorta mixed together into one purple blur.

Aster looks at the canvas in awe while Asha covers her face in shame "It looks like a child made it, I'm sorry, I've wasted the whole day instead of spending time with y-"

"I LOVE IT!" Aster exclaimed hugging her tightly "It looks amazing! What do you mean "like a child made it"???"

Asha smiles at him, but she still feels insecure about the painting "I wanted it to be perfect"

They smile at her reassuringly "You don't have to be perfect, you just have to be you, and that's way more than perfect for me, okay?" he says while still hugging her

She blushes as a big smile stretches across her face, she hugs him as well "Okay heheh" she giggles a bit, feeling her heart flutter

"Now! It's my turn to give you a gift, come on!" Aster pulls her by the hand out of the room

They go to the cliff next to the tree Asha wished upon Aster

(I make a lot of romantic scenes take place next to this tree but come on it's a cool location)

They watch the sun set together, leaning on one another without really saying anything, just admiring the beautiful sight

Once the sun is gone and the stars start to appear, Asha says "That was a beautiful gift" holding Aster's hand

"Oh that wasn't my gift yet" Aster corrects her with a cheeky smile "OKAY GUYS! Do your thing!" Aster yells to the sky above them

Asha looks up, already excited to see what he got planned but... Nothing seemed to happen

"... Guys???" Aster asked the stars, already getting nervous they wouldn't do the one little favor he asked

Then, Asha sees it, a shooting star cutting through the night sky

"*Gasp!* You asked for a shooting star just for me?" Asha asks hugging his arm

Aster looks quite disappointed though "... No, I asked for a meteor shower, it was supposed to be A BUNCH of those, like come on, is throwing some asteroids around too hard???" They ask, frustrated that things didn't go as he planned

"Hehe you don't need to make a whole cosmic event happen to make me happy" She leans on their shoulder "I love just watching the sun set with you"

Aster feels his heart beating faster "And I love you"

"I love you too"

They kiss under the starry night sky.

A few more shooting stars can be seen passing by.

[anadxanax]

Celaena I —

Some branches of the story get lost over the years, despite her importance to the events that unfolded in the Dance of Dragons, Celaena Targaryen's name is not given due credit in any of the records made by the citadel's maesters. There are many justifications for this, but none of them please me so this is my tribute to the dream tamer...

Previously - Index - Next

The air was dotted with stars, their fire thousands of miles away illuminating the earth that burned like never before.

Fire, salt, tears.

Wind was nothing more than a memory.

The walls were damp, red, and moving like sea waves. Contracting and expanding, swallowing. The water that covered her from the knees down was bright green, so bright and beautiful that it made her want to cover herself completely in it, but she couldn't, something in the back of her mind screams that was dangerous to play with that.

Muffled screams outside remind her that she must keep going, she couldn't stop now. She needed to climb.

The girl climbs the narrow, damp walls, and when she finally manages to stand, the floor sinks beneath her feet. It's fluffy, lumpy and rough, there are traces of the green liquid there. In front of her, a narrow corridor of raw flesh stands, the sides covered in ivory white stakes that come from the floor and ceiling. Hot wind passes through the gaps between the stakes but doesn't burn her. Nothing can burn her. She's made of dragon's blood.

A gutural noise echoes up the hole she came out of and it contract's again. The girl turns and stares in terror at the sight: wild fire. It climbs the hole slowly and then expands. It wasn't green water, it was wild fire. The walls open and the fire covers everything in a strong and destructive breath. The ground above her feet disappears, she's falling and when she looks up she can only see the dragon that spat her out close its mouth and fly away rocked by it's withered wings. She screams, but the dragon doesn't comeback to save her.

Why doesn't he come back?! She was like him, her blood was fire too! Why didn't he come back?

Her skin falls apart, scattering into the air until all that remains are bones of her former self and silver hair. Warm wind embraces her in her fall. She looks up, seconds before being embraced by the ground, and sees the moon, full like never before, explode and expel a million dragons.

When the dragon's blood finishes its fall, the ground turns into ice and Celaena opens her eyes.

"The dragon..." Celaena screams sitting up in bed when he finally woke up. She was drenched in sweat, her hands were shaking and her breathing was uneven.

She was used to these dreams, the ones that seemed too real. When she was immersed in them she didn't know how to get out. Celaena knew they were just dreams, that nothing could hurt her body, but the mind... It was her mind she was worried about.

The light emanating from the window bathed the room in a silvery glow, the moon was full, huge like never before just like in the dream. Its comfortable glow contrasted with the infernal heat in the room, She was sweating so much that she had wet the bed sheets.

How disgusting, what would they think of her? She was no longer a little girl, she was already twelve years old and practically a woman. Imagine what they wouldn't think if they thought she still wets the bed when she sleeps? No. Celaena couldn't let the news spread. She got up and took the sheets off the bed throwing them in the fireplace so quickly that she didn't even needed to think.

As soon as she finished cleaning the bed, she looked for a new nightgown among the countless trunks that her servants had brought from Dragonstone. Celaena didn't understand why there was a need for so much clothing since they would leave shortly after the end of the tournament, still, she mentally thanked the maids every time she woke up sweaty at dawn and had a clean nightgown to wear.

Outside the Red Keep the city was in an uproar, the arrival of nobles from all corners of the kingdom certainly boosted local commerce and, of course, the festivities too. King's Landing was the kind of city that was alive at night, but Celaena's room only had the view of the Blackwater bay that ran slowly with the soft shushes of the water. She could hear the ordinary people in the city living their lives, screaming, moaning, laughing... she could also hear the dragons roaring in the pit and... no, this roar was too close.

Celaena's lost eyes turn to the moon through the window, full like never before, as if it would explode and expel thousands of dragons like in the dream the girl had just woken up from. There was a black spot in front of the moon, cutting it in a smooth and slow flight. The roar of that creature echoed throughout the Red Keep like a lullaby to Celaena's ears, she knew who it was immediately.

The Dreamstealer circled the Red Keep in the air as if it were his prey, his orange eyes swept the countless towers, gardens, gates and windows until they settled on the only thing he could recognize as his: Celaena. As soon as he saw her, he changed his flight path, diving towards the balcony where she was waiting for him with a huge smile on her lips.

His long wings swept the ground, spreading dust and star's as he landed messing up the little girl's hair and nightgown. He was young, so small that she was barely able to put a saddle on his back, but she loved him.

He was the most beautiful dragon to be born in centuries, the blue and purple scales contrasted creating an almost boreal effect never seen before. When he flew in the night sky the only thing that gave him away was his bright orange eyes that adorned his face like little suns. He was a wild dragon that hated being caged, but was also extremely gentle and faithful to his owner.

"Skoriot emagon ao issare, Dreamstealer?"

"Where have you been, dreamstealer?"

Asked the Targaryen approaching her dragon and touching its nose. There is more in dragons than ordinary men can understand and the Targaryens understood this on a certain level, their dragons might not speak but they always made it clear what they wanted and Dreamstealer wasn't any different. He tilted his head towards Celaena's body, poking her and then pointing back to the moon.

He wanted to fly.

"Nyke kostagon daor sōvegon sir. Se istia sagon isse zaldrīzes ripo."

"I can't fly now. And you must be in dragon pit."

She scolds him, but can't seem angry at all, just enchanted by the beautiful creature in front of her. Celaena always found herself admiring Dreamstealer and couldn't get used to how beautiful and unique he was, the smallfolk used to say that Targaryens were closer to gods than to men, and for Celaena that was true because there is no way that there is anything more divine than dragons in this whole wide world.

"Ēdā iā bantis ossȳngnon tolī?"

"Did you have a nightmare too?"

Dreamstealer grunts poking her again, he wanted to fly. He didn't need words to make it clear that he too had been disturbed by the world of dreams. Celaena's mother told her that in her first years of life she used to spend the nights screaming in her sleep, that she would be disturbed and woke up sweaty and shaking every night. These nightmares only calmed down after Daemon gave her the egg that gave birth to Dreamstealer.

The bond between them was remarkable, sometimes it seemed like he was more people than dragon, that he understood her like no one else could. When Celaena cried he did too, when he was sick he also weakened, and when she had nightmares he was also disturbed.

There were no records of such a dragon.

"Bantis zōbrie issa se ossȳngnoti lēdys, yn kostā sōvegon isse lyks, ñuha byka mēre. Iksan ȳgha."

"The night is dark and full of terrors, but you can fly in peace, my little one. I am safe."

With one last touch to the dragon's forehead Celaena stepped aside to give him space as he reluctantly took flight. His long, shiny wings sweeping the ground. He was like a dream, but better than anything she could ever dream about.

"My lady?" the voice coming from inside the room woke her up and Celaena quickly turned her back on the balcony and returned to the room.

"Sor!" she scolded him as soon as she closed the balcony door and could look at him. She didn't know that man, he wasn't her sworn sword sor Daren Waters. "What makes you think you can come in uninvited?”

"Nothing, my lady" replied the man with a cheeky smile making a short bow. "Forgive me for coming in without asking permission, but I heard a noise and thought-"

"Oh, no... it's not your fault. Sor Daren should have warned you that I have these night terrors and might end up screaming."

The soldier nodded, he was gigantic and very beautiful. Celaena was used to seeing the same men every day, the dragon seeds her mother took in as her wards and common people who served in Dragonstone. That soldier was different from the people she was used to, he didn't have an ordinary face neither was Valyrian. He's features were something else, men usually made Celaena afraid with their perverted eyes that found pleasure even in a child like her, but his eyes were big and kind, and even if she tried, she couldn't feel afraid of him. It was almost funny how respectfully he avoided looking at her body, it made her want to smile.

"Oh, sor Daren warned me about the screams but there was something else a-"

"A big noise like thunderstorm coming from my chambers?"

"Exactly!" he responded clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, eliciting giggles from the young lady.

"That was my dragon, sor..."

"Harwin" the nameless soldier finally introduced himself and Celaena couldn't help but echo the name, sliding it off her tongue. Harwin... "Exactly. Harwin Strong, my lady. And... a dragon? What was he doing here at such a time? Shouldn't he be in the pit?"

"He had a nightmare" replied the young lady, knowing it would sound childish, but with no better answer than the truth.

"A nightmare... just like you did."

"Yes, sor Harwin, just like I did."

His gentle eyes carefully analyzed the lady's strictly serious face, trying to distinguish if that was really true or if she was just trying to have a laugh at his expense.

"Impressive" he concluded after a few seconds of silence, shaking his shoulders and looking around. "So there's no threat against you in this room?"

"That depends, sor, are you a threat?"

"I don't think so, my lady" replied Harwin, bowing again.

"Great. Thank you, sor Harwin."

"At your service, my lady."

N/A: I know this may seem confusing, but my intention is to follow a POV structure similar to GOT, so yes, there'll be chapters from the pov of several oc's and maybe canon char's.

Also, again: please be kind. English is not my first language and is hard asf to translate, especially because some things sound great, like real poetry, in my language, but in English it doesn't work. 😭 (crying in latino america)

Continue in:

[r4g1n-c4jun]

♡︎kitty strolls♡︎

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:

damien karras x reader

(I CAVED SO BAD HE NEEDS LOVE ♡︎♡︎)

based on a comment by @ashley-slashley

It was below freezing, cold enough to send icicles down the spines of anyone who stepped foot in the snowy weather of Georgetown, it was usually this cold, a snow storm here and there but mostly..it would go away after a day or two.

Leading man, Damien karras, a priest and a psychiatrist in one, he had just finished a few papers in his office. He crept down the stairs solemnly as he watched the snow fall, worrying about his dear mother, possibly considering bringing some coffee and cake to share with his mother, he figured it would be a nice surprise for her..he loved his mother truly..Ah but what flavour of cake would he get? he made his way to the large oak doors and opened them up.

strawberry cake? banana? chocolate? did he dare slide red velvet into his mix? well.. maybe some-

"Damien!!"

his thoughts were dropped to a halt immediatly, he jumped, surprised by the voice of which he couldn't recognise. He shook himself out of his little trance.

oh thank the lords! it was just [name], his sweetheart..his mother invited them to dinner, it seemed they'd be walking together.

"ah..there you are dear-"

he let out a sigh of relief..thank god it was just them, he almost had a heart attack..but didn't they look so beautiful in the snow? the way the white spots landed softly in their hair, like an angels blessing. I mean how ironic..they were his angel after all.

"I figured to drop by, since we're walking to the station and too your mother's home yes?"

they asked poileity..it was nice to hear their voice. He smiled, nodding at their question and gently grabbing their hand, starting their journey to the station, He felt like a lucky man, being able to have someone like them, was it truly a blessing? he was a man who'd lost almost every part of his faith and even himself, he forgot long ago about god but now he felt god had sent him a gift, a gift for all his devotion..could it be a parting gift? a thank you?

as he let his mind run he didn't notice that his lover had stopped in their tracks, a gasp leaving their lips. He panicked for a moment, thinking someone had startled his beloved he took a quick turn and came into a staring contest with a little black cat with a tiny dot on its neck..like a clerical collar?

"oh my god Damien!!"

[name] was smitten, love at first sight.

"ohh how cute! she's been following you dims!!"

the cat meowed immediately, reaching itself to Damien who hesitantly took the small animal in his arms, she looked at him, big brown eyes staring right at him.

"she is cute.."

he spoke softly as not to startle her.

"can we keep her? I've already chosen a name, molly!!"

[name] insisted..but Damien stood his ground and put the cat down.

"my dear she probably has a family already.. perhaps her mother is waiting for her? just like mine is for me- we have to get to the station.."

[name] sighed in defeat, allowing him to drag them too the underground station.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

As they waited for the train to strike past not a word was spoken. [Name] was thinking about the cat while Damien thought about what kind of cake he wanted to surprise his mother with.

"oh dims..-"

Damien raised an eyebrow at [Name's] tone before turning to face them, his gaze shifting to exactly what their eyes where on.

oh no..

there she sat, Molly. the little clerical cat..meowing at him.

"oh lord.."

he muttered, he turned back to [name] who simply pleaded with their eyes.

"..no-"

he spoke but his lover just ignored him, lifting the feline into their arms. their eyes practically sparkled, gazing at the tiny kitten, absolutely smitten. Karras' heart simply melted, oh god how could he say no now?

"..fine-"

he sighed, [Name] tilted their head.

"we can keep her.."

He smiled ever so slightly at the dozens of kisses being placed on his face.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

"mama?"

he called out, waiting for a response from his mother, he wasn't sure if she was awake..

"dimmy!!"

oh, yes she was. she grabbed his face, kissing all over his face as he laughed.

"hi ma, [Name's] just setting the drinks and food down.."

But mama karras was far to focused on the kitten in her son's arms.

"baby!!"

she exclaimed happily, scooping the kitten into her arms, she smiled widely.

"oh dimmy, it's looks like you!!"

she wasn't wrong..the black fur, the white neck dot and the brown eyes..

"actually Mrs karras..she's for you, her names Molly.."

Damiens eyes widened as [Name] spoke, was this their plan all along?

"for me? oh!"

Mrs karras was beside her self, Damien helped her back to her chair as she cradled the kitten while damien scooted off into the kitchen and turned to [Name].

"was that your plan?"

he asked, a smile gracing his features opening his arms for them. [Name] shuffled over, allowing damien to wrap his arms around them, he smiled softly.

"maybe..I mean, your mamas so lonely dims..she needed someone- or well.. something? I hope Molly makes her happy.."

Damien chuckled softly, kissing the top of their head.

"I'm sure she'll make my mother the happiest, your a sweetheart.."

he heard his mother singing songs in Greek to the kitten, clearly head over heels for the small feline.

"we'll sort out the all the other things like the cat bed and a litter box tommorow.."

[Name] muttered, yawing softly as Damien lead them to the small couch in the living room, laying back and allowing his love to make themselves comfortable.

"you've got a good heart.."

he let his hands rub their back as he hummed, listening to their breathing, the following words from his lover had his face a cherry red.

"mm..and I allowed you to steal it.."

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡

good lordy alright, I caved, damien lovers come get ur food before I snatch it back ♡︎

(let me know if you spot any mistakes<3!!)

[humanerrorbutterflyeffect]

Prelude

Dawn cracks. You could hardly tell as the sun hasn’t peaked over the mountains yet. In the distance are gentle hums of arriving aircrafts in the distance. Those sounds get lost with the hustle and bustle of people walking and talking, loud beeps from the overhead speakers as announcements are made, spoons hitting teacups, all of which are unbearably overwhelming to handle.

Out of all the things he had accounted for, this is the one thing he didn’t think about. Even if he had, he quickly realised that the music he’d drown out the noises with would drown out the boarding call announcements. His knee kicks up and down anxiously as he yawns, absolutely knackered from the lack of sleep; he prays to Kigem that he can get at least a couple of hours of sleep on the aircraft.

His new boss paid for the business-class seat, so it should be fairly comfortable to sleep in… but what if it isn't? Having never flown in an aircraft before, he worries about if it’ll be neigh impossible to sleep due to various unforeseen factors: frequent turbulence, awful seats, loud children, seats that cannot even fit his tall stature…

He didn’t have long to find out.

“Now boarding business guests flying from Anerita to Endina at boarding gate 5.”

His ears perk up at the announcement, getting up and grabbing his suitcase as it’s repeated once more.

With each step to the front of the line, his nerves grow stronger, rethinking the past month to make sure he has everything he needs, knowing he won’t be able to afford a trip back home for a long, long time.

He checks the pockets of his tan, heavy cotton trousers for his passport, panicking at the realisation it isn’t there.

He checks the outer and inner pockets of his dirty white, light weight lab coat that extends down to the knees, with a hole in the middle of the upper left arm, showing its vintage nature. Not in the waist pockets, nor the right chest inner pocket.

While he uses his right hand to pat down his chest, checking if he somehow dropped it down his black, short sleeved shirt. As he looks down to look at his shirt, he stops as he notices.

“Oh,” he thinks, taking the passport out his mouth, “there it is.”

He adjusts his large, round, bulky googles to make sure they aren’t crooked. The purple lenses distort his eyes to appear as small dots. The metal rims are cushioned at the base, with the strap covered by his thick, bushy hair that flows down to his neck.

His well used, vintage suitcase is adorned with scuffs and dents across the worn blue leather body and golden metal corners. In contrast to its age, the address tag looks brand new, signed with his name but lacking an address.

His thought to open it and check for any missing objects is halted before he can even begin to start as the gate agent politely yells “next!”

He steps forwards, handing them his passport and boarding card.

“Name, please?” They begin typing on a computer as they look at their passport and boarding card.

“Victor. Victor Dontoya.” The friendly sounding gate agent eases his nerves, beginning to dawn a smile.

“Lovely name. Going to the lab, Mr. Dontoya?” They ask, Victor mistaking their small talk as interest.

“Yes, actually!” He nods with a cheery tone, or at least as cheery as you can get with his deep, typically monotone voice, “Well, n-not today,” he stutters, correcting himself, “I start work tomorrow. Today will be my last day here.” Victor glances out the window, as if looking at a dog he has to leave behind.

“Well, that’s nice!” Their small talk has become genuine interest, “What are you researching?”

“Plants!” He smiles at the gate agent, “they’re a lot more interesting than you’d-”

“Oh.” The interested look in her eyes quickly disappears as she cuts him off. “I hope you enjoy your flight. Next!”

Victor’s beaming smile fades into a disappointed frown, putting his passport and boarding card into his inside pocket as he walks down the boarding tunnel towards the aircraft, waiting in another line to get onto the aircraft. He’s happy it’s at least progressing faster than the other one, enough to where it feels like a slow walk than a start and stop; before he knows it, he’s already in the aircraft, showing his boarding card to a welcoming flight attendant so they can point to the direction of his seat.

The first thing Victor sees are the spacious first-class seats with a shrug. Too extravagant for his tastes. Victor considers himself a simple man, and the seats look far too large for him. Though, he does lament the thought that he might need to book one in future travels if business class is too snug.

While Victor is skinny, he is taller than most at 6-foot (approximately 1.82 meters) and has always had trouble sitting in the majority of non-adjustable chairs comfortably. Upon walking into the next cabin, he figures he must be in business-class when he sees the similar, but thinner, cubicle-style seats. Feeling anxious, Victor looks at the boarding card to find his seat number, comparing it to… wherever the number is. Not on the floor… not on the seats… not on- ah, there they are, placed on the lowered roofs above the seats.

He gives the numbers a quick scan as he walks past, checking the boarding card frequently.

E6-7… F6-7… G6-7… H6-7… H6-7. This seems to be it! Victor bends down to avoid bumping his head on the lowered roof as he sits down in his aisle seat. The first thing he notices is how roomy it is; stretching out his legs as far as he can comfortably. It would be roomier, were there not a suitcase beside his legs.

On the wall in front of him is a small, but perfectly viewable, TV with a footrest underneath it. On the wall next to it is a small door that, upon inspection, has two sealed bags: one containing a set of pyjamas and another containing all sorts of hygiene amenities he had no use for.

Next to that is a fogged window that he finds strange but shrugs off, looking below it to see a mesh pocket that contains safety card and a menu for food and drinks that, for the most part, aren’t to his taste.

Looking at the window, he notices the frame has a small indent on the top. Pushing down on it, he-

“AH!” he screams

“AH!” the woman in the seat on other side screams back.

“Oh Kigem, I’m so sorry!” He apologises to the stranger, grabbing his chest as he recovers from the scare.

“It’s fine, just don’t scare me like that again…” she looks annoyed as she also recovers.

“S-sorry…” Victor apologises again, partially putting the divider back up before, pulling it back down again. “Real quick, do you know where I can put my bag…?”

“Above your head,” she grumbles, going back to her newspaper before gasping to herself. “Wait- is this your first time flying?” Her tone is curious, with a hint of excitement.

“Yeah… sorry again for-”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” She tsks with excitement in her voice, getting up and opening a door behind the head rest to a storage compartment to get out her bag. “You can have my seat! Mine’s on the window, it’s a must if you’re travelling to Endina, especially for the first time!”

“Moving, actually.”

“Even more of a reason to have my seat!” Her excitement, as well as her insistence, is unmeasurable.

“Are you sure?” He asks nervously, “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“Oh, it’s fine!” She waves her hand reassuringly, “I run a travel related newspaper, I go on trips all the time,” she humbly brags, “I’ll have the window seat on the way back anyways, ain’t no skin off my nose, especially when I have a rare opportunity to give someone the best first-time flight experience I can!”

“I… guess, then.” Victor is beginning to wonder if this friendly face is going to turn obnoxious quick. Out of all his worries, he didn’t think someone who might talk his ears off throughout the entire flight would have been one.

“I’ll try to leave you alone for the most part, just enjoy the view!” She smiles as she gets into the aisle seat, reaching across the open divider to grab her newspaper before closing it, along with sliding privacy a door he didn’t even know existed.

He walks past her seat and into the small corridor to his new one. It looks similar, except with the addition of the place behind the head that he quickly takes advantage of. He gets seated with a relaxed sigh, looking out the window at Anerita, his relaxation slowly turning into sadness as he realises this will probably be the last time he’ll ever see it with his own eyes. It’s all he’s ever known. He feels like he’s not just leaving behind his home, but his memories, most of himself. He wonders if this will be worth it as the anxiety kicks back in-

“Oh, one last thing!” The helpful blogger from earlier scares him from the pulled down divider. “The lock is by your head. Enjoy your flight!” She beams a bright smile before closing the divider, followed by a click of a lock.

A sudden buzz from the speakers on the roof of the cabin startles him as someone says something he can’t quite understand. Victor has been studying Endinian for a long time, so he isn't sure if the quality of he just couldn't understand what they were saying or if the quality of the microphone was awful, (assuming it was even Endinian at all). Shortly after, the TV at the end of his seat turns on, aided by the audio coming from the cabin speakers.

“Around two hundred and fifty years ago,” a mature, yet youthful, voice narrates as an animation plays, showing a silhouette of man climbing a snowy mountain “a man by the name of Venver Keya climbed the midpoint of one of the many mountains that surround Endina. On that snowy night, he looked to a nearby cave blocked by a rock for warmth. Moving the rock revealed something beyond our imagination: Kigem, the origin of the universe, trapped in the cave for millions of years. Out of appreciation of Venver, she told the whole world of her rescue, as well as giving him a kiss on the head.” The animation shows Kigem kiss Venver on the head, then panning to show the front of Venver’s face with the kiss in gold. “While Kigem may have returned home, her blessing has remained on the heads of the Keya family for generations,” the camera scrolls to the right, going past Venver to others from the Keya family, slowly increasing in speed as it passes a silhouette of each member of the Keya family, with only the kiss on the head staying the exact same. Eventually, it shows the final silhouette, then fading to show a plump, white woman that looks to be in their mid-30s. Her brunette hair is bunched up in a bun, held by a flowery clip. Her brown eyes are framed with purple eye shadow, complimented by her glossy lipstick and faint blush on her cheeks. Her outer robes fade from white at the top to purple in the middle, with her inner robe having a purple flower pattern on the left side and white on the right, with a black waist belt with red string tied in the middle. “I’m Keyla Keya,” she welcomes, standing in the aisle of an empty aircraft, “heir of the Keya family and all its subseries! As you should know, when Venver returned home, the world tried to give him as much as they could as thank you for helping Kigem, but he did not wish to be given help, opting to give help to those in need of it. We continue that tradition today through the Keya Foundation, and today we extend that help to you...”

“...Help make sure you have a safe and comfortable flight.” The camera cuts to an elderly white woman, around her mid-60s, displaying the name 'Kristen Keya', leader of the Keya family. Her grey hair is, like Keyla's, is also tied in a bun, but with the sides flowing freely down and over her ears. Kristen's green lipstick and eyeshadow are a stark contrast to her brown eyes, but match the knee length dress perfectly, lightly decorated tree patterns. Kristen looks comfortable in the first-class seats Victor saw earlier. “Before lift-off, it’s important that your tray is folded away and your window shutter is open. You can hide your tray by folding it in the extended armrest beside you...”

“...Or in the seat in front of you.” The camera cuts once again, this time to a formal, yet faintly gruff sounding white woman in her early-30s by the name of 'Ivy Keya', the youngest of the family. Ivy humbly sits in what Victor can only assume is economy-class. Her thick hair, black flows down her back and right side of her face, partially covering one of her brown eyes. Her robes, though a similar set to Keyla's, except with no outer robes and decorated with pink, same for her eyeshadow. All three members have the kiss mark on their heads shown proudly, like it was a badge of honour. Next to her is an elderly man, looking contently out the window. “It’s important you don’t leave your hand luggage in the aisle, so please stow them in the overhead lockers above your seat, or under your seat.” The footage shows Keyla putting two bags in the overhead locker, then Ivy putting a bag under her seat.

As the video drones on, Victor's gaze turns towards the window, beginning to wonder why people as famous as the Keyas would dedicate themselves to something so mundane. It's not like they need the publicity, their history is well documented and taught internationally. Perhaps he, like seemingly most of people, are apathetic to them. That gives Victor an interesting thought: how could people ever become disinterested in the living proof of a higher power? Despite his apathy towards the Keyas, he has donated to the foundation whenever he has the spare cash. He admires their goal, especially once they helped his town put out and recover from a fire that burned half of it down. When Victor gets to Endina, he wants to pursue the local customs, such as going to the temple cave and donating to the shrine every New Years, or attending one of the many parades. Maybe that will give him a greater appreciation for the Keyas.

As the sunlight finally peaks over the mountain, the runway has a beautiful glow and the windows of the airport a glistening shine. While not the best, this view makes it worth getting up at 4 in the morning, it makes him excited for what the view from above will be like. He can hardly believe it's already 9 in the morning.

Returning his attention to the TV, he notices Keyla holding a small, brown fabric pouch with gold-coloured laces, decorated with a white kiss mark similar to the one on her head.

“As the flight crew do a final safety check, we would like to ask that, if you have any donations you wish to give to the Keya Foundation, you can find a small donation pouch in the mesh pocket in front of,” Keyla narrates as the camera shows Ivy pulling out the small pouch from the pocket on the back of the seat in front of her, “or beside you,” she continues, cutting to Kristen pulling out the same pouch from the mesh pocket in the extended arm rest, similar to Victor’s seat. However, upon inspection, Victor sees no such pouch. “Any amount is greatly appreciated, and we accept any currency you may have on you. Even if it’s the spare change in your pocket, it’ll mean so much to those in need. From all of us in the Keya family, we hope you have a safe flight and enjoy your stay at Endina. And for returning residents, we can’t wait to welcome you home!”

With that, the TV turns off.

Despite his search, he cannot find the small pouch, deciding to get the attention of the flight attendant walking down the aisle.

“Sorry to be a bother,” he apologises, “but I don’t see a pouch anywhere.”

“So sorry, we no longer provide the pouches, but you are more than welcome to use the donation tray as you disembark!”

The flight attendant takes their leave, checking on the other passengers before the aircraft slowly starts moving. He watches out the window as he sees the aircraft moves backwards out of the loading bay, before turning and moving away from the airport.

The aircraft beings making humming sounds, confusing Victor at what the heck is happening and wondering if the sounds he’s hearing are normal, before suddenly… the aircraft stops.

Trying to avoid worrying, he tries to get as relaxed as he possibly can in his chair as he waits for what feels like forever until the PA system makes another noise. This time, he heard the flight crew loud and clear.

“We are cleared for lift-off.”

A loud, high pitched electrical sound is heard as the blades of the quadcopter start to spin. Although the cabin does a good job of dampening the sound, making it bearable to listen to, it’s still a lot for someone as inexperienced as Victor. Soon, the high-pitched sound is overpowered by the sound of the propellers at full speed as Victor feels butterflies in his stomach from the feeling of the quadcopter slowly, but surely, lifting off the ground. Victor’s eyes look towards the window as he sees the airport slowly lift out of view and the sounds of the aircraft dampening as the wind from the blades no longer reflect back onto the cabin, quickly becoming little more than background noise. As he looks out the window, seeing the quadcopter move up and over what he called home, that anxiety he felt earlier no longer lingers, those memories of the past become bittersweet, and the goodbye no longer hurts as much. That feeling of dread and worry is replaced with peace and excitement, ready for whatever new adventures await him as he lays back in his seat, sighing with a sense of content and relaxation.

Once the seat belt signs turn off, he gets out his notebook from his suitcase, pulls out his table tray and begins to write down notes for his big project to pass the time. Given he’s a new hire, he wants to start small by researching the Bluebell Rosequartz, a plant that surprisingly has little to no research despite its beauty. While it is more in his interest, Victor thinks of questions that would help secure funding. “What medicinal value does this provide?” “What causes the petals to have a sparkling blue and pink gradient?” “How does it react when put in habitats outside its own?” “Could you reconnect a severed nerve of a human with the stem of…” okay maybe not that last one. As much as he finds the idea interesting, he crosses it out.

Getting ahead of himself, he ends up writing ideas and notes down for his other research project ideas, eventually getting to the end of the notebook. His thoughts stop dead in his tracks as he looks as the last page. Turning the book upside-down, he sees the old scribbles and doodles of a simple robotic mechanism. He wasn’t always an aspiring plant biologist, he experimented with robotics before then but dropped out once he realised it wasn’t really a role for him. He thought that if he could rebuild the engine of his car, he could build a robot that could help mechanics by fetching tools. The skillsets were too different; plants interested him more anyways.

Not wanting to dwell on the headache that is robotics, he puts away the notebook and pencil just in time for the helpful journalist from earlier to gently pull down the divider.

“Hey!” She grins. “It’s time!”

“Oh, uh, hey. Time to land?”

“No, silly! Look out the window!”

Victor opens the window shutter and peaks down below at Endina, his new home. It’s much smaller than the view of Anerita, but still large enough to not see the whole country from the small view the window provides. The towns below are quite small, with plenty of grass land between them. It reminds him of where he used to live. As he looks closer, he can see tractors going around the farm as a dog chases animals back into their pens. He’s always wanted a dog… his dad was always allergic, and university never let him have one in his dorm. This time should be different. As he looks up, the small community towns become less frequent as places become more and more dense, until eventually he sees it: the National Institute of Science and Research. While it isn’t the tallest building in the country, it’s by far the biggest, with employees using scooters and rollerblades to get around the facility (or so he’s heard). Looking further ahead, he sees the coastline. He’s never been to a beach before! The idea of standing at the edge of the only continent on the planet is still so surreal to him. Soon, it’ll be within walking distance!

“We should be over it now!” She sounds excited, almost kicking her legs.

Victor, confused, looks down to see they're right over top a mountain, and right below he can see a small, wooden structure that stands at three stories tall on the east side of the building, with the west being one story tall, but much wider. Further up the east side of the mountain, about a 5-minute hike up, there’s a construction crew that seem to be installing solar panels that connect to a thick, long cable that run down the mountain to the back of the building. The construction crew and a plump person in purple wave at the passing quadcopter, the person in purple more enthusiastic than the others.

“So, whadya think?!” She asks with an impatient squeak.

“Wait,” Victor squints his eyes. He slowly starts to recognise the building; how could he not have realised it before? “That’s the Keya temple! And is that Keyla?”

“Keyla?!” She gasps, frantically trying to unbuckle her belt as she rushes towards the second window in Victor’s area. “By Kigem’s good graces, it is! How exciting! I’m jealous, you really got lucky today!”

“I guess so,” he nods for a moment before looking back up at the city, “you see the institute?” Victor points, even if she can’t see where he’s pointing to. “This time tomorrow, I’ll be having my first day there.”

“Oooooohhhh, won’t be long until you see the head Keya herself, then!”

Before Victor could ask for elaboration, the seatbelt sound plays as the accompanying sign turns on, causing her to immediately rush back to her seat and lift the divider back up. The flight crew announce over the PA that the aircraft is approaching Endina International Airport and will be descending shortly, asking passengers to get buckled up, close their trays, and put their seats in the upright position.

As the aircraft makes its way to the airport, unknown to anyone, Keyla is also starting an adventure of her own…

Sumate Junel, While I was overseeing the construction of the solar project, something rather strange happened. For a brief moment, I felt like I flashed back to the past, standing in front of a small, sad, young boy. I didn’t think of it much at first, perhaps it was a boy who was visiting the cave? Lots of children are scared of the cave below the temple. But, as I pondered more on it, I recall seeing him in the guest lounge after a party many years ago. Perhaps an early teenager? Either way, it was quite strange… I told Ivy about it and while she may know what I’m talking about, she wasn’t entirely sure. Mother and father did not share the same sentiment. Mother didn’t recall such a child, while father just, well… he just looked to mother, saying nothing after she shook her head. This memory feels like an itch I must scratch, but I don’t have the foggiest idea as to why. Perhaps this is something worth investigating, or maybe this isn’t anything at all, but what I do know is that I won’t find the answers inside the temple, but I might just be able to find them outside. Wish me luck. Sulame, Keya Keyla

<[Previous Chapter]< - >[Next Chapter]> - <<[Chapter 1]<<

[no-shxme]

Ko-Fi Fill

(my kofi) (other fills)

shx note: they asked for hwei + anything. so i wrote jhinhwei in a regency-ish au, where hwei is a court painter and jhin is a travelling performer. this actually ended up long so i will put most of it below a read more.

.

The gardens are a sprawling empire of greenery, dark and monstrous by night. During the daytime you can stand on one of the west-facing balconies and peer over the well-manicured hedges to see the flowers growing, budding or blooming in reds and yellows and pinks and most other colors that you might believe in. The gardens are dotted with benches throughout, and statues hidden in alcoves, of which you can only see the tops from the balconies if at all; the polished heads of royals, the stone feather in their hats. Hwei himself has spent hours admiring them and the way sunlight soaks into the stone. A master sculptor makes them in a little studio across the channel. He’d come to visit in person once, unveiling his latest creation the way someone introduces their new bride. Hwei had paused, his brush hovering above his canvas like a hummingbird. The tarp had been drawn away like a veil, Hwei remembers that detail specifically, and the rest of the attending court had sucked in a breath, just one breath together, split between all of them.

That’d been the winged eagle, caught mid flight, that now sits atop the central fountain in the gardens. It’s magnificent. Hwei still doesn't know how he’d done it. Sculpting is something you have to see to believe. If you stand on the balcony you can spot it with wings outstretched, talons sharp and reaching, about to snatch something from the waterspouts.

Hwei is not usually allowed on the balconies. They are reserved for royalty or their guests. You can’t see anything at night anyway. He is standing beneath the balconies, waiting, and the oddly shaped hedges have become evil spirits, coiled in the dark. Hwei is staring at the wall of bushes to his left, imagining a hand reaching out through them like a tree branch, thin, twisted fingers looking to drag him into the blackness. So when Jhin whispers his name he jumps.

“O-oh,” he says. “Apologies—I was lost in thought.”

Khada Jhin takes to shadows well. He is wearing his stage mask again, tilted up to shroud his face even further. Beneath the balcony it’s already very dark, and Jhin becomes a streak of black, moonlight only finding his shoulder and his pale mask. Hwei takes a step towards him, his shoes sinking into the soft grass. The artist in him doesn’t want to disturb the scene—the perfect composition, so he tries to commit it to memory. It would be a difficult piece; Shadows are easy to ruin. And it would have to be done privately, away from the court’s eyes, while everyone is asleep. But Hwei almost doesn’t want to paint this, because if he begins then he’ll eventually finish. Maybe if he never starts then Jhin will still be waiting for him to set up his easel, and the moon won’t move.

He hasn’t brought his easel, anyway, or his paints, only the small golden snuff box hidden in his hands. And Jhin won’t stand there forever. Hwei crosses over to him. There is an ache in his chest. It’d started a week ago and had only grown, becoming an enormous bruise inside of him. It throbs at the thought of Jhin leaving, as if it is alive.

“I was getting worried.” Hwei laughs, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Jhin makes him feel—younger. That’s a good way of putting it. Hwei hasn’t felt nervous like this since he’d been a teenager.

“The night before takes much longer,” Jhin says. They’re speaking so quietly to each other, but Hwei can still hear the missing pieces of his sentence. The night before we leave. 

“You don’t have to go,” he says, half-joking. Jhin knows he’s half-joking. He doesn’t answer. Hwei can barely discern the features of his face, a flash of his white teeth.

“Well.” Hwei glances down at the grass. “I’ll miss you.”

Sometimes Jhin stands so still that Hwei cannot fathom what he’s thinking. 

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” Jhin finally says, and Hwei is unable to ignore the fact that he’d worded it like that. Jhin is deliberate. Even so, Hwei still wants to protest. Two months of meeting under the balcony can’t mean nothing. Two months go by and suddenly this is the last night, the final period dotted on a summer-soaked letter. Hwei doesn’t shy away from big feelings, but this is different. He knows there is a change upon him, even if he can’t figure out what it looks like yet. 

Then Jhin adds, with audible difficulty, “I will miss our talks,” and Hwei relaxes, even as his ache worsens. 

His fingers dance on the sides of the snuff box before he offers it. “I’ve made you something.” He presses it into Jhin’s hands.

“Wha—”

“Don’t open it yet,” he says quickly, a little too loud for the quiet gardens. Hwei lowers his voice. “Wait until tomorrow night.” (And this time Jhin is the one surely picking up the meaning: When you’re far away from here.)

Jhin says nothing. This close, Hwei notices a small smear of something—mud, maybe, on the edge of his normally pristine mask. He rubs it off with his finger. “Maybe the King will invite you back. He loved your troupe.”

“Perhaps,” Jhin breathes, sounding strange. Hwei can’t tell if he thinks it’s likely. The King loves art, even if he doesn’t have much of a critical eye for it, but Jhin’s troupe travels far and wide.

“I have to go,” Jhin murmurs. 

His heart seizes. “Already?”

“We leave early,” He answers, taking a step back. Hwei reaches out to catch his hand, to feel his fingers slip out of his grip.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he blurts out.

Jhin pauses. 

“Neither have I,” he admits. And half of Hwei has felt enough, the ache blossoming like a rose bush into something beautiful. And for a moment he might be happy with nothing more, never untangling whatever time they shared, because all the most beautiful things never last anyway. The flowers, the sunset—even the statues will weather away and lose their edges. If they lived forever it wouldn’t mean as much. For a moment he would be fine never answering the question, because sometimes the question is enough, and once it’s answered you regret asking. And he and Jhin have had some form of religious experience together, for two months under the balconies, that much is irrefutable. Hwei doesn’t want to lose the power it has over him, he doesn’t want to take another bite and find out it’s gone sour.

Only for a moment.

Jhin has disappeared into the darkness, back to his troupe. Hwei is too wound up to return to his quarters yet, so he wanders into the garden and sits by the fountain. A cloud has covered up the moon and in its absence Hwei imagines Jhin’s face on the marble busts, scattered in the dark garden waiting to be discovered. His ache envelops him like a shadow, a wash of color tinting his whole world. He sits there for a long time.

[thinplacesradio]

a field of white, three-bladed wind turbines at night, seen through a car's windshield. deep blue sky. the image is distorted by VCR static. white text reads:

[021] THE BALANCE. A CALLER FEELS WISTFUL. THE HOST WATCHES WINDMILLS.

listen here, or anywhere you find your podcasts. transcript under the cut:

[static, radio tuning]

[Traveling Sales Rep: Don’t touch that dial! We’ll be right back, after these short messages.] [static, radio tuning]

[click]

Hello and welcome to Thin Places Radio. I’m your host,

and it is the middle of the night. But don’t worry. You’re not alone.

[Thin Places theme] 

I’m coming to you awed from my studio, which is what I like to call this silent, endless field of windmills I’ve found myself at the foot of. I am smaller even than the dot at the center of the blades. Every second, they blink red, then go dark again. Red. Black. Red. Black. There. It’s like they’re all breathing together, or all looking out for something, a hundred eyes opening in unison.

Something is beginning to spin them off in the distance, coming this way. I don’t feel a breeze. The night air is still and empty. But something has them shuddering and turning, faster and faster, moving through the herd like a swarm of biting flies.

So… what is Thin Places Radio? Well, you can call in about anything strange that you’ve got going on in your life - feelings, omens, premonitions, hauntings.

Are you getting help from the other side?

Are you looking for something small?

Are you seeing someone across the street that no one else can see?

When the veil between worlds is thin, we get closer than ever to the strange and the unexplained - but also to each other. Call in, get it off your chest. Lines are open.

[click] [voicemail:]

I am feeling particularly wistful this evening, and wondering if time itself has lost its balance. Maybe, just maybe, there is something out there - smaller than we think it is. 

[click] 

You’ve got me wistful over here, too, caller – next door to you in the neighborhood of the cosmos.

I don’t think time has a balance – or, if she does, not one that I will ever understand.

[steel guitar - eerie, curious music begins]

There is no real moment where the hourglass is balanced. A grain of sand doesn’t suspend itself in midair. The next one is always falling behind it. We never have the present moment. And yet, the present moment is all we ever have.

Time doesn’t need to hold steady. She passes. Sometimes slowly, and sometimes relentlessly, but she never pauses, not once. There is life to live. There is rot to progress. There is hair to gray and water to flow and billboards to peel and bleach white. Even if you lose track of her, she never loses track of you. Well. Of most of us.

We’re all one of those little grains of sand, caller. Everything big is made up of something smaller, and smaller, and smaller. The windmill field is each windmill, and each blade, and each atom of metal, and each person who welded it together in the factory, who loaded its parts onto the train that would bring it across the country to this place, who worked the machinery to piece it all together. And each of those people is every moment they’ve ever been through, and every person they’ve ever loved, and every mistake they’ve ever made, and every bright thing that’s captured their interest or their ire.

Am I making any sense, listeners? Maybe not. I’ll try again. The big things are hard to touch. We let them pass through us and then remember how it felt. We keep the big things in the small things, because the small things are what we have. But that’s good. That makes them easier to hold on to.

I’m here. So are you. All the impossible things exist anyway. And thank God for that.

[click]

[a swarm of creatures]

[click] 

The windmill above me is creaking to life. There’s still no wind, but I can feel something moving, trying to settle around me. The red lights are flashing quicker, now, uneven. There’s a pattern to them that I can’t understand. I think they’re speaking, in whatever way they can, but they aren’t speaking to me. The invisible swarm passes right by me, and around me, but it doesn’t settle – except for the brush of one small animal-insect-something that does not have a taxonomy that lands on the back of my hand, for just a second. I feel chitin or scales or feathers or fur. And then it’s gone, and everything, including the windmills, is still again.

[click]

Thank you for listening, callers, and thank you for calling, listeners. I hope you feel a little bit lighter. I know I do. As always, our number is 717.382.8093. That’s 717.382.8093. Until next time. I’ll be here.

[static] [Traveling Sales Rep: visit us at the - diner just off -] [Various Garbled Voices: the - road - provides - the - road - provides -]

Thin Places Radio is a podcast written by Kristen O’Neal and produced by Kaitlin Bruder. The voice of Your Host is Kristen O’Neal.

Tonight’s voicemail was left for us by Kent. Editing and sound design are by Kaitlin Bruder, and the music tracks you heard in tonight’s episode are: the Thin Places theme, by Miles Morkri, and Unearthed by Miles Morkri. If you have a question to ask, a story to tell, or a suggestion for the host, give us a call at ‪(717) 382-8093. The lines are always open.

[Thin Places Theme outro]

[rosenongrata]

Heart of the Sea

⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 Summary. A serene jazz songstress slowly makes her way through the artistic ranks of Fontaine—hoping to eventually connect the dots to her past and lost memories through music. And as she always says, "People come and go as the tides of the sea do."

⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 A/N. yes. another oc/canon fic i'll probably have trouble with finishing…………………. LOL! anyway, im obsessed with these two as of yesterday. someone get these worms outta my heaaaad!!!! enjoy :)

⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 AO3 Link.

⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 Chapter W.C. 1039.

⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 CW. None................YET. Fluff.

Chapter 1 — A First for Everything.

It's raining again today.

People scurry back to their homes as the rain pelts them from above. Sure, rain is normal here in Fontaine, but it's hardly pleasant either most of the time, even within the Court.

But, somehow the rain intensifies the fragile beauty of the songstress' voice that sits on stage. As her slender, veiny hands dance across the black and white piano keys, her eyes flitter shut to fully dip herself into the song.

Chief Justice Neuvillette doesn't want to be here—no matter how pleasant the water tastes and no matter how wonderful the woman on stage sounds. But, some of the little Melusines had implored him to tag along to a little jazz studio down the street.

He prefers hearing the songs that the heavy rain sings. A human voice could never compare to the pitter-pats of raindrops on the stony pavement—

"Hm?" Neuvillette finally notices one of the Melusines that invited him here has disappeared. "Where did she go…" He mutters to himself, turning in the other direction in his seat at the corner table only to notice the other Melusine is also gone. "They're all gone—" It dawns on him that he spaced out so hard that all four of the little girls had gone with the wind.

When his icy eyes flicker to the stage, he notices the four little Melusines standing at the edge—jumping up and down with pure, unfiltered glee. One of them asks for an autograph on her napkin…it was all she had on her person.

The songstress nods to the four little girls before finishing up the song—ending on a bittersweet note that could only allude to the abrupt death of a lover. He wasn't paying attention too much to the song itself, so when he hears those last words about "Beloved of the Sea," he feels his heart sink. He nearly frowns at the implication, but puts it beside himself for now.

The songstress hops off the small stage after the end of the song, picking up a quill pen from the nearby bar. She laughs about something with the bartender for a brief moment—her smile sweet as candy. Not that Neuvillette of all people would know how candy tastes unless a Melusine forced one into his mouth.

The four small Melusines tag along, following her to the bar. The woman notices with ease but acts surprised when she turns back around. It makes the four girls giggle and apologize bashfully, she pats one of them on the head and forgives them with the grace of an angel.

"H-Here!" Menthe sleepily chirps, handing the songstress the napkin.

"Thank you, little Menthe." The woman nods and scribbles down her very first autograph onto the unused napkin, adding a couple of small hearts as a nice, memorable touch.

"O-Oh, you know my name?" Menthe jumps in surprise, she's unsure about whether she should be scared or not right now. "I hadn't even introduced myself yet…!" She bemoans.

"No worries, I heard such a lovely name in passing the other day when I passed the cafe." The older lady reassures, "And I will tell you mine." She crouches down to the Melusines' short statures, handing Menthe the napkin back. "My name is Kafka. And here's your autograph. Thank you so much for being my first fan!" She nods and claps her hands together.

"Your very first?!" The girls let out a collective gasp of surprise.

"Indeed. People come and go as the tides of the sea do." Kafka giggles, "So, please… Keep that autograph safe." She affirms.

"Y-Yes, Mademoiselle Kafka!" Menthe nods rapidly, hugging her napkin close to her chest. She scurries back off to her table with two of her friends, leaving only one behind.

"How can I help you, Sedene?" Kafka interrupts the lonely Melusines' thoughts.

"Can…Can I put in a song request?" Sedene asks, a curious expression on her features as her hand touches her chin.

"Of course. I'd be happy to try my best." Kafka beams.

As Sedene and Kafka discuss the new song, the three other Melusines return to Neuvillette. They're radiating with joy, and he can't stop himself from finally relaxing. He smiles a little.

"What might you have there, Menthe?" He inquires softly. He already knows what it is, but it's the right thing to do to ask about what happened.

"Mademoiselle Kafka's autograph!" Menthe hops up and down on her bare heels, presenting the signed napkin to him. "Be gentle with it, though." She says very sternly, which he takes to heart.

"I will be as gentle as possible, do not worry." He nods, taking the soft paper napkin from her.

"Thank you for being our first fan!! Sincerely, Kafka and Anais…❤"

That's what the autograph reads—the handwriting is rather small and messy, but still legible. He can only assume Anais is the barkeep. He sighs a little, his icy eyes drifting back to the little girls. He hands the napkin back to its new owner.

"Congratulations on getting your autograph, Menthe." He smiles a little more, "Take good care of it—"

"I want to frame it." Menthe interrupts, a curious expression painting her features. "…Where do I buy a frame?" She asks, sitting down next to him with the other two at the table.

"I will find you one soon." He offers, causing her to clap softly.

"Thank you so much, Monsieur Neuvillette!"

"Not a problem." He nods while he watches Sedene reapproach the table, "Hello, Sedene. What were you two discussing?"

"Oh, well… I asked if she had any songs about Melusines," Sedene starts, crawling up onto her seat before plopping down. "She doesn't, but she said once she does her research, she's going to compose a song for us."

"How wonderful." He assures, "…She sounds very kind-hearted. An autograph and, soon, a new song for you all…" He murmurs. "I am very happy for you four." He speaks up, a soft twinkle in his pale eyes.

"She's so nice! Almost as nice as Monsieur Neuvillette!" Muirne nods happily, "Her hand is pretty rough to the touch, but she was so gentle about patting my head…" She recalls.

He sighs in relief.

…And the rain finally stops.

[ducknotinarow]

[Stolas Shane] "I can't believe you did all of this for me."

| 💜💜💜 --- 'I love you' Sentence Starters;

Stolas felt giddy as he looked over the gift box he had perfectly wrapped not a single scarp of paper stuck out all the edges were crisp. A silk like ribbon tied around the sides. A deep pink warping paper with a purple ribbon, was he trying to be subtle on his color choices here? Absolutely not and why should he? He was free to go all out to dot and express how he feels for his boyfriend Shane. In truth it was such a freeing aspect to their relationship with Shane. Stolas was able to just openly love Shane in the way Stolas wanted to express that love. Not feeling like the effort was going to waste or unwanted even. Shane seemed to more enjoy how over the top Stolas could be instead. Or, at least accepted it as just part of who he was. Stolas thought to himself as he twisted the end of the rib ion around his talon. Holding up his face in one hand happily chucking to himself.

It just felt good. Good to feel this way good to be truly in love and able to express his love freely. No worries about his arranged marriage with his divorce handled long before he and Shane became official. No worries of pushing Shane snap or react not quite in the manner Stolas would expect? Sure Shane wasn’t word for word following along with the male leads of his romance books or soap or romcoms even. But, Shane at least reciprocated Stolas’ efforts here. they were on the same page, and that alone? Was enough to put the owl prince into his current moods. Lost in thought of soft white locks, and cute little heart markings. Hoping Shane would like his gift and part of him feeling Shane would likely be happy with anything Stolas gifted to them.

Shane was just that kind of demon. That cute little unsure smile and their habit of averting their gaze as they rubbed at their neck. Despite his demon species Shane was more on the shyer side when it came to personality. One would be likely to assume a demon of the succbuss/incubus kind would be far more well promiscuous for one and outgoing as well. Likely more perverse even?

And well could one truly be blamed for having those stereotypes in mind when it came to demons that came from he lust ring for one, home and ruled over by Assmodeous himself? The same demon prince who flaunts his brand as ‘lust’

But that wasn’t Shane’s way. Which to Stolas had him feel it was more proof that they were genuine.

When Stolas' butler came to tell him his 'guest' was here, Stolas stood up right away clutching at the gift box carful not to let any of the paper to forum a winkle. Slightly biting on his bottom bill he could tell from the aide glance given by the butler who has severed by him for so long was thinking. But stolas didn't care to 'correct' his actions as the door was opened and entered Shane. That permanently sleepy gaze that Shane wore was enough to get the princes heart to flutter. Clearing his thoart a moment.

"Darling, I'm so glad you could come by." Still holding the gift between his talons. Hoping it be as good as Shane's was. No, he needed to remain in his confidence. Side stepping so they could come in as they walked together his butler making mention of having tea ready for Stolas and his 'guest'. That did get the princes smile to fade a moment. Unsure why they kept insisting on referring to Shane in that way. They were more then a ‘guest’ after all. Stolas decided to ignore it, if Shane wasn’t bothered than perhaps he didn’t need to worry over it himself, smiling as he held out a hand to Shane. “Shall we?”

Of course, Shane had seen the gift box and was bound to be curious, some how Stolas forgot about it when he got up to greet them offering just a faint smil as he went ahead and hand the box on over towards the incubus. “A gift for you, You brought me those wonderful roses, that are doing rather well in my garden by the way.” Stolas made known as he detoured in his speech, soon gesturing down at the gift box. “So, I wished to repay the gesture it’s rather small, I didn’t want to go over board.” Least no yet it was bound to happen but Stolas was still trying to learn from past mistakes, “well?” He asks slightly bend down to get more on their level as he slightly tugged on to the end of the ribbon so to give them the permission they might be seeking before ripping in to the paper.

Stolas stood up straight once again and watched as the wrapping was peeled away and ribbon untied to unveil the leather bond sketch book, Shane's name was imprinted into the dark pink leather cover. Along with some detail cravings of swirls and hearts to match up the usual style of lust. Along with a small metal tin box of a set of pencils to go with. "Sorry I can't help it anymore, I saw your other one and thought a new on might be needed. I asked your sister about the pencils so I hope those will be to your liking." Stolas stated, "But when you told me you like to draw I couldn't help getting in touch with a book binder I know of. They have worked to handle all the books used in Goita matters" he states with a wave of his hand "But it was nothing to get them to make time for this after all. And this way you have very high quality paper." Sometimes being a royal demon had many perks, that often went over the prince's own head on how that may come off. "I even had them engrave your heart tattoo on the spine there."

"I can't believe you did all of this for me."

"hmm and why do you say that? after all you gifted me my prize rose bush. And I have to admit the chance to spoil you makes me twice as happy as getting those roses from you." because he never was allowed to before, such a small act meant more than all his power did. "So do you like it?"

[shanzualjourneypart2]

Graffiti outcome planning and making

After gaining feedback on my designs i finally made a decision and went for the design i made in the session. On this slide are some photos of making my final mural in waterloo.Continuing from before i use the blue, purple , black and white colours but i also added silver into the design as i believe this would fit with th futuristic look of the outcome and give it an almost robotic feel. I am overall pleased with the colours i have used. During the making process i was quite worried about how this mural will turn out as i haven't done this before but it went so well for a first attempt i believe. I decided to use the white as a base for my design soi could make it proportional to the design in my book. When i got to waterloo ,i purposely tried to find a place that looked like it would be walked down a lot and so more people will see the mural and be pulled in from it. I had an issue with the amount of graffiti that was around my design when i started painting as it was making my mural not clear and a bit lost .luckily a painter was next to me and he kindly gave me some wall paint that got rid of a lot of the designs around my design. I think i was underprepared for this so it is definitely something i need to consider if i go mural painting again and bring some wall paint so i can make my own space . the wall paint didnt get rid of the graffiti underneath fully as i only used one layer but this was okay as i believed when i had done the painting this added some layers into my mural that looks interesting and gave off ideas of the history of the paintings that are here and how they all get covered and replaced. I think the main focus of my mural was the portrait inside so i made this the focal point of the piece and be centralised in the wall. When painting , even though i liked the futuristic colours, when i painted these all together, i did look a little lost and im thinking to develop and in the future that i do mayb indeed a contrasting colour just to break it down more.

To create fine details i used a posca marker , this worked successfully in making lines clean and facial features stand out. I used the stencils i made and these worked especially well especially the dots texture one. This gave the piece that extra technological glitchy feel and gave it more aesthetics. The title stencil worked well too, creating hidden messages within the artwork. I think if i was to use these again i would make these slightly bigger though or a variety of sizes so the text could be collaged around and more clear and draw the audience in more but i do think the hidden messages work well too. When painting the text i got feedback when talking to sam of asking a question to the viewers to walk past. Asking them ARE YOU THE FUTURE OF LONDON. Asking this question made my whole piece come together more and solidified my ideas in my work.

Overall this piece is a reflection of whoever walks by from the future showing them what the future will be like, looking through the technology of the world. Asking the viewer if they want to be part of the future of london