#once i figure it out i’ll draw them good copies of all the photos

[extraneous-stories]

my partner loves @sophsicle ‘s kill your darlings on ao3 and talks about how we’re literally rosekiller so i’ve been concept sketching the pictures barty has in his homework folder. here’s a rough draft of one of them :)

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Nightcrawler and the Princess

Kurt Wagner x Reader

Fandom: Marvel/X-Men

Summary: Being the princess of a small kingdom has its perks. However, you’re not sure this is a secret you can share with the rest of your friends…

Note: Did I make this a subtle crossover with the Princess Diaries? Yes. Yes I did. Don’t worry about it.

Reader is: Female

Warnings: Swears

Word Count: 1.8k

You carried the large box to the lunch table and set it there, in the middle of your friend group. Jean eyed it curiously.

“What’s that?”

“Care package from my mom.” You replied, using the pair of scissors you kept in your school bag to cut open the packing tape. “She said there’s stuff for the rest of you in here too. Probably candy or something.”

“That’s nice of her.” Scott smiled, watching as you opened the cardboard box.

“Ah, yep.” You reached into the bag and pulled out several packages of Genovian chocolates. “Here you go, guys.” You told them.

Kurt’s eyes narrowed at the bags, his tail hovering behind him curiously. He recognized that packaging. “These…I know these chocolates. Does your mother live in Genovia?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m from there, actually.”

Peter thought for a second, already munching on chocolate. “Wait, I thought you were American.”

“Nope.” You laughed, reaching further into the box and pulling out a handful of little Genovian flags she’d sent. “Ah, right. Independence day is coming up.”

“Where even is Genovia anyway?” Warren asked, admiring the little flag once you handed it to him.

“It’s a tiny little country between France and Italy.” You explained. “It’s really beautiful there, though.”

“It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.” Kurt reminisced, sighing fondly.

“When did you visit?” You asked him.

“Several years ago.” He said. “The circus had a few shows there when I was young. The people were so kind, and the coast sparkled like diamonds.”

“You were with the Munich circus, right?” You asked him, trying to remember. He nodded proudly, a smile settling onto his face. “I was at one of your shows! I knew you looked familiar! Oh my god…” You laughed and shook your head. “I should have put those pieces together sooner.”

“You were there?”

“Yeah! My mom took me for my birthday.” You smiled, remembering the show fondly.

And Kurt knew then the information that you were withholding from the rest of the group. His eyes widened slightly and he studied your features. He remembered you. He remembered that day and he remembered the feeling of his heart hammering when after the show, the Queen of Genovia herself introduced him to her daughter, who was about his age. She’d taken her there because it was the princess’ birthday. Though your meeting was brief, he’d remembered it all this time, thinking of it every once in a while…the time he’d met a princess.

You didn’t look all that different now than you had then. Why you hadn’t told the rest of your friend group, he wasn’t sure, but he would keep the secret for you. Of course he would. He smiled softly, admiring you with his new revelation in mind. Even before he’d figured it out, you’d already been a princess to him anyway.

Peter studied the look on Kurt’s face and squinted. Something was going on. Something was going on and he would get to the bottom of it…

***

Over the weekend, your friend group had decided to go to the mall, but before you left, Kurt knocked on the door to your room.

“It’s open, come on in.” You told him.

He pushed open the door and stepped into the room timidly. You were at your desk, reading what appeared to be a letter written on a piece of paper.

“What’s up?” You asked, not looking up from the letter when you asked it.

“You’re coming to the mall, right?”

“Yeah, what time is it?” You glanced down at your watch. “Oh shit. Sorry I’m late.” You chuckled, folding the note and tucking it into your dress drawer. “My mom wrote me a letter with her package.” You explained.

“How nice!” Kurt smiled and you couldn’t stop your heart from fluttering at the way it lit up his face. “Do you write each other letters back and forth?”

“When I have time to, yeah.” You nodded, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Well, shall we?”

Kurt nodded and offered you his arm. You took it and in a poof of smoke, suddenly, you were standing in the living room, where the others were all standing.

Peter had a weird look on his face and you weren’t sure why, but you knew he was up to no good. He always seemed to be…

The squad piled into the car, as usual, and arrived at the mall in under thirty minutes. Jubilee picked the tunes, which was always a good choice, so the ride there was pleasant and relatively uneventful.

You all walked inside and started the routine of shopping around in all of your usual stores. The prom was coming up, so you all spent some time in the dress place on the upper level of the store.

“What color dress do you think you’re going to get, (Y/N)?”

“Mmm, I’m not sure.” You thought for a moment. “Maybe something pink. Or…blue?”

“I think blue would look great on you.” Jubilee grinned, flipping through the rack of blue dresses.

“I agree.” Jean smiled, her eyes flicking over towards Kurt, who was on the other side of the store with the boys.

“Hey now.” You warned, your cheeks warming at the thought. “What did I say about reading my mind?”

“I didn’t need to read your mind. You’re more obvious than you think you are.” She chuckled.

“What she said,” Ororo agreed, causing your cheeks to flush even hotter. “Why don’t we ask the boys which one you should wear?”

“That’s a great idea.” Jubilee agreed, despite your shaking head. “Hey boys!”

“Yes? What’s going on?” Kurt bamfed over beside you, looking at Jubilee curiously.

“Which dress should (Y/N) wear to prom?” Ororo held up one pink dress and one blue dress.

“The blue one.” Scott said knowingly, crossing his arms and smirking. Okay. So he and Jean had talked, then. “Definitely the blue one.”

“I agree.” Warren nodded.

“What do you think, Kurt?” Scott nudged the teleporter.

“I think you’d look beautiful in anything. But I do like the blue one. It brings out your eyes.”

“T-thanks.” You blushed, giggling. None of you committed to dresses, so after looking around for a while the squad decided to hit the food court while looking over movie times.

“So…” Peter looked up at you and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the rest of the group. “When were you planning to spill the beans…your highness?”

You swore your blood ran cold. You looked up at him, your heart racing in your chest and the color drained from your face. “Excuse you?”

“You heard me.” Peter raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair confidently. “When were you going to tell the rest of us your little royal secret?”

You froze, staring at him for a long time. “Maximoff,” you said through gritted teeth, your eyes glowing faintly. “Choose your next few words very carefully.”

“Oh I have. (Y/N)’s the princess of Genovia.”

“Pfft. As if.” Scott scoffed, chuckling, but he stopped when he looked at the look on your face. “Oh shit, is he serious?”

“Who the fuck told you?!” You asked him, your voice raising the teeniest bit. “The only people who know are Professor Xavier and Dr. McCoy, so which one do I have to kill when we get home?”

“Neither. I snooped in Xavier’s office. Found your file.” Peter shrugged. “And of course, that begs the question: Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Listen…” You exhaled a long breath, looking to each of your friends faces for a moment before fixing your eyes on the table. “When people know, they treat me differently. I don’t think they mean to, but they do and it sucks. I like having friends and I love hanging out with you guys and I didn’t want to ruin that because of something as stupid as status.”

“You’ve got us.” Jean promised. “We’re not going anywhere. This doesn’t change anything. And…I already kind of knew. Not that you think about it often, but every once in a while…”

“I figured that might happen, yeah.” You chuckled. “Thanks for keeping it on the DL.”

“Of course.” She nodded.

“I knew too…” Kurt confessed, looking you in the eye.

You crinkled your eyebrows and then nodded, understanding. Of course he knew. You two had met before, after the show. You’d asked your mother if you could meet some of the performers, and she’d pulled some strings to make it happen. You distinctly remembered meeting Kurt. You remembered his smile and his adorable pointy ears.

“That’s right.” You smiled. “We met.”

“We did.” He agreed, nodding, a smile tugging at his lips and a faintly purple color creeping across his cheeks. “Although, I’ll admit, I didn’t realize it was you until…very recently. We aren’t kids anymore.”

“We sure aren’t.” You agreed, a chuckle escaping your lips.

And it was fine after that. It was normal. Much more normal than you’d expected it to be. Another week came and went. You finished your letter to your mom, Queen Clarisse, and when its response came back in the mail, you found it accompanied by a small picture she had saved all these years. As soon as you looked at it, a smile on your face, you knew you had to show Kurt.

So, you ran out to the courtyard, where you knew he was, and found him reading under the shade of a large tree in the front yard.

“Kurt!”

“What’s up?”

“My mom sent a few copies of this photo. Do you want one?” You asked, sitting next to him in the grass and handing him the photo. He looked it over, holding it very carefully in a large, three-fingered hand.

“This is us, ja?”

“Mmhmm.” You hummed, nodding. “A very long time ago.”

“We were so young…” He murmured, admiring the smile on his face as well as yours. He remembered you’d been nervous to meet him and at first, he thought it was because of the way he looked, but quickly learned it was because you’d been enamored by his performance. Absolutely blown away. You’d been so kind to him then, just as you were so kind to him now.

“We really were.”

“Do you mind if I keep this?”

“It’s all yours.” You told him. “So, what’cha reading?”

“Beauty and the Beast.” He told you. Ever since remembering that one of his best friends was a princess, he’d been on a bit of a fairytale kick.

“Mmm, that’s a good one.” You smiled and tilted your head, your eyes sparkling. “Read to me?”

“Of course.” He laid back against the tree again, holding the book open with his tail.

You got closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting your head against his lean chest. His arm wrapped around you and tugged you closer, and without even thinking about it twice, he pressed a soft kiss to your hairline before starting to read again.

Kurt decided then that there was no place in the world he’d rather be than under his favorite tree, a princess resting contently against his chest.

Part 2?

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight: [REDACTED] “Oh Goddamnit. DANNY!”

Prompt Creator: @mr-lancers-english-class

Even Danny’s school projects cause ghostly issues and Lancer really should have seen this coming.

Alright fine, Lancer knew this was a bad idea. He knew it. And yet... here they all are, with each of his students doing their self-chosen presentations. And as he should have expected, Every. Single. One. has been on Phantom. Sure at least there’s been some variety. Star’s piece on his fashion and how that reflects on his personality and the era he died was actually fairly interesting (if it wasn’t for the fact that Phantom spiced up his jumpsuit with t-shirts and whatnot sometimes then this would have been a very boring one). Kwan also surprised him some, apparently he’s spent the past year or so sneaking photos of Phantom eating and did a piece on Phantom’s rather peculiar food tastes (who dips their pickles in milkshakes???) as well as effectively providing proof for the existence of ectoplasmic food (there’s no way any earth apples are neon green on the inside). Dash’s wasn’t even correctly calculated, trying to figure out how far Phantom could throw footballs based on his known strength and if he could kill someone by tackling them (disturbingly the answer -regardless of Dash’s bad math- was decidedly yes. Daniel seemed particularly disturbed). And Paulina’s was quite literally a badly written self-insert ship fan fic; the added drawings of what their child would look like only made it worse (Daniel left, not that Lancer could blame him. Lancer’s also glad for the ghost fight interrupting the presentation). Emilie’s was... disturbingly about ghost hunger and purposed the thesis that Phantom, for the good of the town, should eat the aggressor ghosts (he actually had to cut her off for getting too graphic).

But the single most interesting thing was that a ghost apparently caught wind of this and literally Every. Single. Presentation so far had words that were permanently replaced with [REDACTED], which, needless to say, caused some chaos when Samantha gave the very first presentation.

-

Lancer clicked his pen, crossing his legs and resting the evaluation sheet on his thigh, “alright, Samantha. Feel free to start whenever you please, though soon would be preferred”, by ‘preferred’ he had meant required, but no need to be mean. He chooses to ignore the goth teen's eyeroll.

Predictably the projected screen doesn’t work when she opens her file so Lancer has to spend ten minutes fiddling with the outdated tech that they wouldn’t give the school funding to replace. Eventually, he does get it up and running showing Ms. Manson’s title screen reading ‘Phantom And Hate Crimes Against Blood Blossoms’. Lancer’s positive ‘blood blossoms’ are a type of flower, figures she would do something nature-focused. She’d make for a great herbalist or botanist someday. He does catch Daniel and Tucker giving her ‘death glares’, as the kids call it, though; Samatha doesn’t look any less smug. The second page has what he thinks was supposed to be a detailed drawing of a flower but it’s severely pixilated, almost as if it been blurred; Samantha looks visibly upset so he’s going to assume something when wrong with the file or pasting format. He’s not marking on artistic capabilities though, so effort is effort there.

She quickly clicks to the next page, where the actual writing of the assignment is and looks decidedly pissed; Lancer even quirks an eyebrow since at least two-thirds of the words are a very bold noticeable [REDACTED]. Lancer watches her yank out her physical copy while glaring with murderous intent at Daniel -Lancer will have to dock him marks if he messed with another student's project- before looking at the physical copy in bafflement for a few seconds. Half the class shrieking when she drops the papers and basically launches herself over the desks at Daniel, “OH YOU LITTLE FUCKER!!!! HOW THE FUCK!”.

Lancer’s sighs and stands, “language, Ms. Manson”, moving to pick up the papers and quirking an eyebrow over them looking the same. Sighing again and eyeing Daniel, who’s being choked -or throttled perhaps?- by Samantha yet is grinning innocently. “Daniel, messing with other students' work is against student policy”, sighing yet again, “and I’ll let Star go while Samantha fixes her document”, summoning up the blonde while glaring at Daniel. Some days that boy was more trouble than he was worth but he was also insanely bright and had a heart of gold. Lancer knows he’ll do good things someday, and that’s why he still tries with him.

Half the class is snickering or laughing now and Star is very clearly trying not to laugh as she sets up.

However, as soon as it opens up the class is met with a very familiar sight. [REDACTED] litters every single page; he checked. And Star’s physical copy was in the same state.

Kwan blinks, “okay seriously, what is going on”, before scrambling to grab out his own physical copy; the rest of the class going wide-eyed and following suit. Lancer just puts his head in his hands and sighs very audibly while shaking his head. Why could nothing go right? Sighing again as the class erupts into noise.

“Mines all weird too!”.

“Same here!”.

“Okay there is no way Fenturd messed up everyone’s work”.

“And I actually tried on mine! It was about the merits of Phantom getting armour!”.

“Oh damn do we just get auto hundreds now? Please please please say yes”.

“Oh damn, Phantom would actually look awesome in armour”.

“I know right”.

“Can we just skip class entirely now?”.

“Oh my Zone a ghost messed with or work”.

“Holy Shit”.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! You don’t think Phantom did do you?”.

“Why the heck would he do that? How would he even know??????”.

“Oh I hope Phantom was inside my computer. That would be so hot”.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe someone told him or he overheard shit. He’s a ghost, he can be invisible. Heck, he could be here, right now, invisible”.

“Invisible and laughing at us”.

“No! No! Hold up! What if he doesn’t want us writing about him or maybe someone wrote some sus shit and he just nerfed us all for good measure”.

“That would mean Phantom totally read my stuff, aw Hell yeah man. That was some boss shit”,

Lancer sighs and stands up, “alright that’s enough”, sighing again because why did this have to happen to him, “and I apologies for blaming you earlier, Daniel”.

Samantha snaps, “oh no, I still blame him”, and continues glaring at the teen. Lancer suspects Samantha would continue blaming the boy even if it was firmly proven he wasn’t at fault.

Addressing the class again, “here’s what we’re going to do, you’re going to read off what of your projects you actually can and allude to the rest. Please reframe from repeating what you know was there beforehand as I’d rather not have whatever ghost responsible -Phantom or otherwise- come here pissed off”, glaring at few students who look slightly encouraged rather than discouraged by that prospect, “anyone who does will receive automatic zeroes”, ah and the encouraged looks have deflated. Good. Gesturing at Star, “you’re already up here, so do continue”. Better to not bring the clearly infuriated Samantha back to the front until she’s had some time to calm down.

Star nods and clears her throat, thankfully everyone quiets down. “O-okay, well, um”, gesturing at the screen, “I did my piece on Phantom’s sense of fashion and the cover image was one with him dressed in one of the Spook Sense stores meme shirts....”.

-

Lancer shakes away the memory, he honestly slightly regrets giving this project. But regardless right now is Daniel’s turn and Lancer is honestly slightly fearful of what his file is going to look like. Thankfully all their files were saved to his computer before the [REDACTED] debacle, so no one could go back in and edit theirs to add [REDACTED]’s for an easy grade. Lancer’s still not exactly sure how he’s supposed to mark assignments that were anywhere from one-fifth to one-third [REDACTED]. That word will be burned into his head after this grading period.

Lancer moves to find the boys file, but stares when clicking it crashes the computer. Not once. Not twice. But thrice. The fourth time rebooting the computer he inspects the file and is a bit dumbfounded, “Daniel, your entire file’s corrupted. The file type has even been changed to redacted, which I’m fairly sure, isn’t actually any possible file designation”. Everyone’s silent for a bit before bursting out into laughter.

“Just what the Zone did you write, Danny!”.

“Oh we so have to know what this is now”.

“Danny has the forbidden knowledge! We haft found him! The keeper of things forbidden and Ghostly! Haza!”.

“Ha! It was probably so lame that Phantom wanted to save him the embarrassment”.

Lancer sighs, but Daniel gestures Tucker up, “hey Tuck, feel like trying to fix the file”. Tucker chuckles and walks up, though apparently glaring at the boy. Based on Daniel’s smirk he finds this quite amusing.

Tucker does manage to make the file viewable at least. Lancer nods and leans back in his seat, “thank you, Mr. Foley”, while the file loads on screen.

Tucker sits back down with a head shake while Daniel stands at the front and gestures to the screen, “aight, as you can see from my not redacted title-”, that earns a couple laughs, “I did mine on Phantom’s portfolio of crime. Every single time our dear Phantom broke ghost law. Including such wonderful things as, that time he caused not one, not two, not even three, but five, prison breaks in one day. Or that time he invalidated a Observant spectator duel by bringing an inflatable sword”. Samantha slams a hand on her desk, “IT IS YOUR FAULT YOU DICK!”.

Lancer has some serious questions as Daniel clicks for the next page, the entire class going dead silent as a screen comprising of almost nothing but the word [REDACTED] shows. Lancer sighs very audibly. Eventually the class starts up again.

“Fenton... actually has forbidden knowledge”.

“If it wasn’t for the teacher computer saved thing I’d think he was fucking with us”.

“I mean... he is a Fenton, right?”.

“Okay the fact that this entire presentation is on ghost crimes is concerning alone. But they’re forbidden ghost crimes at that”.

“Shit I wanted the tea. Damnit”.

“Better question, how does Danny know?”.

Daniel clicking the button to go forward is very audible. And, Chicken Soup For The Soul, every single page is [REDACTED] to the point of being completely and utterly unintelligible. There are occasional lines pointing out how Phantom apparently ate confetti at a ghosts third wedding (which is apparently illegal for some reason) or that time he beat someone up with a violin that had a pie inside it (Lancer can see this one, Lancer himself has smacked a ghost with stranger).  Literally the only photo that isn’t blurred beyond recognition is one of Phantom in a prison uniform (Paulina was very vocal about liking men in uniform here). Lancer is absolutely positive the end of his conclusion ‘[REDACTED] are a bunch of [REDACTED]’ is an insult.

Samantha chucks a boot at his smirking face, “YOU IDIOT. Of course they were going to block you from talking about them. Ancients, I can’t believe you”. Tucker’s busy laughing into his hand.

“Oh my Zone, they know too”.

“They’re really earning that weirdo trio title, huh”.

Daniel snickers as he sits back down, “they broke into my room and wrecked that epic puzzle I was working on. They shoulda seen this shit coming. Literally”. Tucker snorts, “they probably did but couldn’t do anything else about it. They can’t stop you and your endless bullshit”.

“Damn fucking straight”.

Lancer isn’t going to claim to know what exactly they’re talking about but apparently Daniel effectively orchestrated this entire fiasco just to annoy some ghost. Lancer is honestly more impressed than disturbed. A for effort but an A- for making everyone's work nigh unusable.

End.

Prompt: For the last project of their senior year in high school, Mr. Lancer is letting his class do presentations on literally whatever topic they want. He is very, /very/ sure that this is going to go poorly, but that's a problem for later...

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

scopaesthesia 👁️ chapter 5

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia, blood, gore, bloodplay, knifeplay, suicidal thoughts.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find yourself trapped.

Note: So I managed to finish this chapter before work really starts to kick my ass. Just letting y’all know, there will be a part 6 but I have an 11 hour day tomorrow and work straight through to wednesday so I’ll probably be exhausted.

That being said, I appreciate y’all reading and your reactions have been the highlight of writing!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You coughed into the blackness. Your awakening was gradual as you waded through the void and slowly broke the surface of consciousness. Your throat was dry and sore and your head swelled with each breath. You reached to touch the tender flesh along your neck, bruised by the rope which had so violently been strung around it. You only recalled the dread of your suffocation before the world turned dark.

As you moved, bright lights flicked on suddenly and you groaned as your eyes watered. You trembled as you pushed yourself up on the bed. The room was small, just big enough for the large bed and the metal chest secured with a heavy padlock. There was a heavy door with a slot and no handle and another smaller door to your left.

You shimmied to the side of the bed and turned your legs over the edge. You slowly turned as the wall behind the bed stood in contrast to the rest of the sterile white room. Every inch around the low frame, from floor to ceiling, was pasted in images and documents. A startling map of your existence.

Pictures of you in the grocery store, at work, on the train or even in your apartment, spanning years back. There were even a few of your dorm room, long forgotten to the haze of your college years. A transcript of your credits and copies of your resume and even pages of the journal you thought only known to you. The one you’d thought you lost in your move from student to adult. And the drawings; just as you remembered, sickening and horrifying.

You stood, unsteadily, and neared the demented collage. There were other pictures; of women who looked like you; crying, screaming, bleeding. You grabbed one and tore it off the wall. You crumpled it up, unable to look at the woman’s dead eyes.

You flinched as the heavy door jolted suddenly and you turned as it opened. You dropped the picture and pressed yourself to the wall as Bucky entered and the door closed behind him. His blue eyes were predatory and intent on you. His right hand twitched as he cleared his throat.

“Sit,” he said softly.

You gaped at him and shook your head. You quaked as you edged over to the corner as if you could hide there.

“Baby girl…” he warned, “Please, don’t make this difficult. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You grazed your neck with your fingertips and scoffed. The sharp breath scratched your throat and made you wince.

“You made me do that,” he said, “Please, sit.”

You blinked at him. His left hand balled into a fist and he shifted on his feet. Your heart jumped and your lip quivered. Slowly, you pushed yourself away from the wall and neared the bed. You sat sideways against the wall with one leg hanging to the floor. You folded your hands and braced for the unraveling of his wrath.

“Good girl,” he preened. “I just want to talk. That’s all I came for.”

“You’re a murderer,” you rasped, “So just kill me already.”

He smiled and chuckled. He took a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. He neared the end of the bed and gripped his hips.

“If that was what I wanted, I wouldn’t have waited so long.” He said. “All you have to do is listen, baby girl. And if you can do that, I will bring you a treat.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” you muttered, “You’re disgusting. You’re…” you shook your head as you couldn’t put into words how he made your stomach twist and churn.

He sniffed and took a deep breath.

“Where were you seven years ago? What were you doing?”

“Looks like you already know,” you paused and tried to clear your sore throat. You coughed and pressed your hands to your neck.

“You were just a student, yes?” He shifted on his feet as he spoke, “Innocent, unaware. Running across campus to get to your next class. So clueless you didn’t even notice the man you collided with. Didn’t notice me with that look in my eyes; distant, determined.”

You frowned, confused. You shrugged. You didn’t remember.

“And what did you think when you heard of what happened to the dean?”

Your heart dropped. You remembered that. It was in the headlines for weeks; the mysterious attack on the dean of criminology. It was revealed that he was a former intelligence officer but it could not be linked substantially to the event. He resigned shortly after and as any new cycle, the story washed itself out.

“You--?”

He sighed and his eyes darkened. “What I was… then. What they made me.”

“I don’t--”

“Shhhh,” he hushed you and neared the bed until his legs touched the mattress. “I was their weapon; a machine. My job was death but that day, their weapon failed. Their weapon was distracted and for that the weapon was reforged, honed, beaten down until it was once more sharp enough to use.”

You shook your head in confused, Your fingers curled until your nails cut into your palms.

“Even when they wiped my mind, you remained. The girl who smiled at me without thought; who apologized and asked if I was okay… Who gave me directions to the right building… never knowing… because she thought I was good.”

“I don’t remember. I don’t know you…”

He held up a finger and tapped his lips. You went silent and watched him.

“When I was free, when I found Bucky again, I found you.” He breathed. “And you were the same. Flitting around without a care. And you ran into me again and you apologized, as you had before, and not a second thought to the man who watched you run for the train. To the man who held the door for you the next day or returned to you the card you dropped on the sidewalk. Always just a smile.”

You touched your cheeks. You remembered the card, some forgotten coffee rewards counter you never used. It came clearer then. His gloves hand holding the cardstock, his blue eyes. It was just another random interaction in the chaotic city. But it wasn’t.

“No…” you shook your head, “But why--”

“You see, the people who corrupted me, their control has nothing to do with what I am. It is a part of me. The soldier, Bucky… one does not exist without the other. Bucky fell in love with you, Bucky wanted you, but the soldier… he didn’t how to help Bucky. How to get you. So he found the girls and he tried to figure it out.”

“Stop. Please. I can’t--”

“But even the soldier couldn’t hurt you,” he put one knee on the bed. “Bucky won’t let him.”

As he placed his other knee on the mattress, you turned to get off the bed. He caught your ankle before you could and pulled you down the bed. He climbed over you and straddled you beneath him. You struck out at him and he stopped your hands, gripping your wrists tightly.

“I told you, I won’t hurt you.” He said softly.

“You are hurting me,” you tried to pull away from him and wiggled beneath him.

“I am trying to help you,” he pushed your hands beside your head, pinning them to the bed. “I only want to love you.” He bent over you and his hot breath tickled your lips. “To feel you.”

“Please, you can’t-- I never-- I’m scared, Bucky. Please don’t hurt me.” You begged. “Please…”

His eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed. He glared at you and pressed his forehead to yours. He let go of your arms and his hands gripped your head instead.

“Listen. I’m not going to hurt you,” he growled. “But I will if you make me.”

You stared at him, paralysed beneath him. He squeezed your head until it pulsed then pushed himself up suddenly. He climbed off of you, jostling the bed, and scanned the wall of photos. He lowered his chin and nodded.

“Take your clothes off.” He said.

You stayed as you were, stunned and scared. He looked at you slowly and his lips curled.

“Do it or I will.” He warned.

You sat up. You were numb as you skirted to the edge of the bed and pulled your tee over your head. He snatched it from you and you stood to unbutton your jeans. You rolled them down and he took them in turn. You struggled to unhook your bra as you trembled and he spun you sharply. He snapped the clasp and the fabric fell away from your chest. He gathered it up and tore your panties just as easily. He even bent to take your socks as they sat balled on the floor.

You tried to cover yourself as you turned back to him. He marched to the door and stopped. He looked back at you and gritted his teeth.

“Good girl,” he smirked and then turned around and looked above the door. 

A small lens sat above the frame and the door unlocked. He opened it with his foot and sent you one last glance before he pulled it shut. You slumped onto the bed and folded your legs against your chest. There was only the sheet stretched across the mattress and a single pillow. You shivered and hung your head.

You felt the eyes of all the dead women behind you. Felt the weight of their souls. And yet you were horribly alone.

👁️

Shortly after he left you, a tray was slid through the slot in the door. You ignored it at first but your stomach began to ache as the hours dripped by. You took the tray and rested it on the foot of the bed as you sat carefully. You took a long gulp from the bottle of water and the muscles of your neck reminded you of your assault.

The sandwich was cut neatly in half; ham and cheese with mustard. You chewed it without tasting and emptied the cup of applesauce. That was all you could manage and you set the tray in the corner.

The other door, the smaller one, opened up to a small booth. A toilet and sink only. You refused to be thankful for anything but were relieved to have at least that.

You hugged the pillow for much of the time. Your only shield against the cold and your nudity. You dozed off for a little, a shallow, distraught slumber.

You were awoken by the door. You sat up dizzily and stared at the figure as it cleared in your vision. The lights were dimmer as Bucky moved around. He went to the metal chest and opened the lock. You pulled the pillow to you as he closed the lid and plopped a roll atop it.

He turned to you and you cowered as he knelt on the bed. Wordlessly, he pulled on your arm until it bent painfully away from the pillow. You fought with him as he dragged it to the top corner.

“What are you doing?” You whined. “Please, don’t--”

You choked on your voice as he pulled up a leather cuff over the mattress. He wrapped it around your wrist despite your struggles and buckles it.

“Bucky, Bucky, please--”

He hushed you and grabbed your other arm. You kicked you as he forced you onto your back and shook the whole bed as he secured your other wrist. You hit his shoulder with your heel before he grabbed your left ankle and tied in down before he did the same to the right. You were stuck, stretched across the bed, writhing and whimpering as he backed away.

“What--”

“Baby girl,” he tapped his fingers atop the metal chest. “I don’t want to gag you… You have such a pretty mouth.”

You grunted and tugged on your binds. It was pointless. Even if you got loose, there was no way out of this room, no escape from this monster. Your eyes drifted to the wall above you and you closed them against the sight of the tortured women. Would he do the same to you?

You heard a clink and your eyes snapped open. You looked over at the knives that lined the fabric roll and you sobbed. You let out a pathetic squeal that slowly built to a scream.

“Please, please, please!” You shouted. “Don’t do this!”

“Baby girl,” he hummed as he dragged his fingers over the blades. “I told you, you’re safe with me.”

He turned and his eyes roved over your body. He let out a thick breath and grabbed the bottom of his shirt. He pulled it over his head and let it heap on the floor. His gaze clung to you as he undid his belt and pushed his pants down. He forced his boots off as he stepped out of his jeans and his socks went with them. He undressed methodically, never looking away from you.

You grunted as you tried desperately to free yourself. This animal, this monster, was coming for you.

He went to the chest and slid a knife from the row. You bounced in frustration on the bed and shook your head. No, no, no, this couldn’t happen. His weight caused the bed to dip as he lowered himself between your legs. He looked up at you as he pressed the cold blade to your thigh. You squeaked and bit down.

“You see, if one doesn’t know what they’re doing then it’s difficult to know what cuts will kill and which won’t,” he slithered. “But if they do, they know how much pressure, what angle,” he pushed the point down and you felt it pierce your skin, “where to cut… just for a taste. That’s all.”

He sliced along your thigh, a shallow but painful cut. You cried out and he did the same to your other leg. Your feet arched as your muscles tensed and you pulled against the cuffs.

The warmth of your blood was met by the heat of his mouth. You gasped as lapped at the flow and smeared it over your skin as he edged closer to your cunt. You grasped at air as your fingers curled and uncurled. You let out pathetic noises as he pressed his thumb to the slice along your other thigh.

He purred as he brushed his tongue along your pussy. He pushed carefully between your folds and you gulped. The tingle it sent through you had your heart hammering. He spread his hand over your thigh and his other gripped your hip as his tongue teased you. 

He sucked on your clit as his hand slipped further up. You pushed your head down into the mattress as you felt a storm of hot and cold fill your core. He needed to stop. He had to stop. You couldn’t feel like this. It was wrong. He trapped you, he cut you, and now he was toying with you.

He traced two fingers along the crease of your thighs and pushed against your entrance. You moaned and he dipped them inside slowly. He stretched you around his vibranium digits until his knuckles were pressed to your cunt. He curled his fingers and moved them in time with his tongue.

You bared your teeth as you tried to resist the instinctual response of your body. The way your core pulsed and buzzed without your consent. You whined as he brought you closer and closer to your peak. Between your mewls, one word was clear; ‘no, no, no.” 

You went rigid as the waves rolled over you and your climax overwhelmed your fear. He urged you through it, his fingers working into you quickly as your sighs turned to sobs. He didn’t stop until you were shaking and wincing against his touch.

He raised his head and drew his fingers from inside you. You looked down at him, his beard and nose stained red. Your stomach flipped and your fear spiked once more. He took the knife from beside your leg and backed off the bed. His cock bobbed with each step as he went to the chest and unsheathed another blade.

He returned to you. This time he moved to straddle you as he turned the knife in his hand. He admired the sheen of the metal and poked your lips with the tip. He trailed over your chin and traced the line of your cheek. His blue eyes sparkled as he teased you.

“You’re beautiful…” he breathed, “I could never ruin that face.”

He brought the blade to your neck and lingered on the still tender flesh. He continued on to your chest and circled your nipples. His hand cupped one tit as the knife played with the other. He moved his hips and grinded against you.

He closed his eyes and took a breath. He hovered the knife below your clavicle and turned the tip to your skin. He split the flesh slowly along the centre of your chest, a red line rising between your breast. Again, it was shallow, enough to bleed, enough to make you sick.

He set the knife down on the mattress and his fingers crawled along the incision. Your torn skin stung at his touch and he bent over you. He traced the line with his tongue and lifted his head. He pressed his hot lips to yours and forced his tongue inside. You tasted the metallic taint of your own blood and groaned.

His chest rubbed against your and you felt the warmth as it spread across his skin. His hand felt around as he lifted his pelvis and moved his knee between your legs. He slickened his fingers with your blood and once more began to play with your cunt. You squirmed and tried to turn your head away from him. He bit down on your lip and shoved his fingers inside of you.

“Baby girl,” He drew away, “You’re ready for me.”

“No--” He pulled his fingers out of you and his hand came up to wrap around your neck and he shushed you once more.

His eyes bore into yours as he angled his hips. He shifted as his tip poked along your cunt. He slowly pressed against you until he slipped inside. You grunted and bit down on your lip. You shook your head as his hand grew tighter. He eased into you an inch at a time and your eyes rolled back as he reached his limit.

He sighed as he moved his thighs flush to yours. His heavy breaths filled your ears as he began to rock. He thrust into you carefully, relishing in each long stroke. He hummed as he kept a steady rhythm. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to resist the burgeoning swell in your core.

He moved fast and pushed himself up, his hand still on your neck, nearly crushing your windpipe. His other hand stretched across the gash on your chest and he slammed into you harder and harder. The clap of his flesh echoed through the room as the blood from your thighs seeped onto his.

The bed quaked beneath your bodies as he pounded into you, his voice rising with each tilt of his hips. Your own breathy moans floated in the air and knotted in your chest.

“Baby girl,” he growled, “Fuck, you feel so good… you taste so good.”

He lifted his hand from your chest and you opened your eyes. He licked your blood from his hand, his left still firmly at your throat.

“You’re gonna look so pretty,” he touched the cut again and played with your blood. His chest was marked with red and it trickled down his muscled stomach as he hammered into you. “This is gonna be a pretty little mark, isn’t it?”

You gnashed your teeth and turned your head. You stared at the blank wall as your thighs tensed against his. You gasped as your orgasm rose violently and your body spasmed.

Bucky let go of your neck and grabbed the knife. Your eyes followed the blade and he pressed it along his chest and cut into his left peck. He stilled as the blood leaked from his flesh and he put the knife aside once more. He coated his fingers in his blood and wiped them across your lips. He forced his way inside your mouth and began to fuck you again.

He lowered himself over you. He slipped his fingers from your mouth and grabbed your chin. He kissed you deeply, tasting the mix of your blood. He pulled away as he began to pant and rutted into you without relent. He snarled and pressed his lips to your cheek.

“You feel that, baby girl,” he rasped, “Hmm, you’re going to make me cum. You want it inside of you?”

“Please--” you whispered.

“I’m gonna fill you up, baby girl. Over and over--” He jerked his hips with each word, “And over-- and over--”

He hissed and thrust into as deep as he could. He spasmed and rolled his hips as his cum spilled into you. He slowed and let his weight down onto you. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest and your own beat loudly in your ears.

“Over and over… baby girl,” he murmured and flinched. He slid his arm up under you and slowly moved his hips. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

👁️

You were in a daze when Bucky finally untied you. He left you limp across the bed as he packed up the knives and locked them away. He sat lightly on the edge of the bed with a wet cloth and began to wipe away the blood from your cuts. You winced but only closed your eyes and waited for it to be over.

Your entire body hurt. You lost count of how many times he’d fucked you. He cut you again on your thighs and under your breasts. You were caked in your own blood and sweat. He washed you gently and you let him. You hoped he would go when he finished.

He stood and you heard the heavy lid of the chest again. He returned to you and wiped each cut; the alcohol tickled your nostrils and burned your skin. The bleeding had mostly stopped but he bandaged each carefully. The crumple of wrappers and the tinny clasp of metal. He rose again and the padlock was snapped shut.

“You have to keep yourself clean, baby girl,” he said. “I’ve left some bandages and wipes out for you. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.”

You ignored him and rolled onto your side painfully. You shivered and hugged yourself. You’d wait for him to leave before you cried. You listened to him dress. He hadn’t cleaned himself up. Your blood was still smeared over his face.

“Good night, baby girl.” He looked at you for a moment. “Are you cold? Do you want a blanket?”

You didn’t answer and just stared at the wall.

“It’s okay, baby girl,” he cooed as his footsteps neared the door, “It’ll take some time… but we both felt how much you liked it.”

The door opened and clunked behind him. Your eyes pricked and you closed them as the tears began to fall. You grabbed the pillow and hugged it as your entire body was wracked with sobs.

You wished he had cut you deeper. You wished he had just killed you. There was no other way out.

[levihantrash]

Not Hange, But Zoe

For @levihanweek Aug 2021 Day 4 prompt: childhood (one-shot)

Summary: After the war, Levi gets to meet Zoe—Gabi and Falco’s new friend in school. A leap of faith comes in the form of a small child with an abundance of questions and acute compassion for a person they just met.

note: kind of fluffy kind of sad (a hopeful ending tho)

cross-posted on ao3 🤪

-----

For Gabi and Falco, returning to normalcy meant returning to school, in a part of the world that hadn’t been completely crushed by enormous, fiery giants. Strangely enough (to Levi), they decided to stay with him and Onyankopon for the time being.

“What’s your new friend’s name?”

Levi enjoys being a part of the children’s lives. They adapt more quickly and play with more abandon. Even when the weekly nightmares that bring them to huddle into his bed, he is more assuaged that the pain, with time on their side, will recede. Even if the memories never quite disappear, children don’t hold on to them with the steely desperation that many more adults do; afraid that without pain, they might have nothing left.

Falco hesitates, but Gabi barges in, overwhelmed with excitement and lacking inhibition. “Zoe! Their name is Zoe!”

“Zoe…?” Levi nearly stutters, grip tightening on the wheelchair armrests. Even Gabi registers his shock, faltering a little. Instead of keeping quiet, Gabi elaborates more, in hopes of soothing Levi’s inexplicable reaction.

“Zoe is so smart! I do a bit better than them at math, though they don’t seem to care about getting good grades.”

“Gabi I think Levi doesn’t want to—”

“It’s okay.” Levi stops Falco’s interruption with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Go on, Gabi.”

Spurred on by Levi’s go-ahead, Gabi goes on in detail. “Zoe has been reading a lot of history books lately, but the teachers won’t tell her where to find books about the war.”

“You know, the war we were in.” Gabi swallows, finding comfort by clenching Falco’s arm.

Falco chimes in with increased confidence. “I think Zoe would love to talk to you! They’ve been asking a lot of adults. Nobody wants to talk about the war… for good reason… I suppose.”

-----

Onyankopon sits across Levi at the dinner table, hearing what Levi had to say about his conversation with the two kids after they bid them good night.

“They want me to meet this kid called Zoe.”

“An unfortunate name…” Onyankopon muses sombrely.

“Who knows?” Levi contends, casting a quick glance at the tabletop where a photo of Hange Zoe sits. They had insisted on taking a picture together when they arrived at Marley. For the memories! To find out a camera works. An arm draped around Levi, they gave a peace sign as he stood stiffly, gazing sideways at the grinning commander. Levi remembers the flash of the new technology caused him to instinctively reach for the knife in his back pocket, before Hange promptly caught his hand in theirs.

“That’s the camera flash, Levi. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” Levi grumbled.

“Oh, I’m sure you weren’t. I just wanted to hold your hand.” Hange chuckled, about to let go of Levi’s hand before he clumsily squeezed back. A tense moment is shared, dissipating into a calm intertwining of fingers. A subtle smugness spread across Hange’s face.

“Very smooth.”

“You said you wanted to hold hands,” Levi said, unable to look at Hange.

“You’ve definitely got my hand in a choke-hold there.”

Loosening his grip, Levi mumbled a quick apology. Hange only got bolder, tucking Levi’s hand into their coat with what seemed like a practised gesture.

“Will you meet Zoe?” Onyankopon asks, dragging Levi back into reality.

“What do you think?” Levi often asks Onyankopon for advice.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Onyankopon says measuredly. “Even if it’s Gabi and Falco who are the ones asking. I know you have a soft spot for them.”

“Who says so?”

“You literally let Gabi manically push you around in the wheelchair on a bumpy grass patch and let Falco climb into your bed at night when he gets nightmares.”

“They’re kids. What’s the point of getting mad?”

“Exactly my point.”

Levi sighs, staring out of the window and the darkening sky. “I’ll meet them.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard, okay?” Onyankopon says, remaining concerned.

-----

“Hi, I’m Zoe!” Dressed in a loose t-shirt and an equally loose pair of shorts, the bespectacled child thrusts out a hand in greeting. Gabi and Falco stand around them in anticipation of the long-awaited meeting (they waited a whole day).

“I’m Levi,” he says in kind, shaking the hand, quietly amused by the enthusiastic formality.

“What’s that?” Zoe points at Levi’s scarred eye. He lets out an unsteady breath. The sweat that has begun to accumulate at his pits tells him he isn’t sure if it had been a good idea to impulsively meet an uncanny reincarnation.

“Is it from the war?” Zoe helps him by asking more questions, seemingly not minding if they got responses or not. As though giving Levi a choice, a way out of the hard ones.

“Yes.”

Without missing a beat, Zoe pursues another train of thought.

“Gabi tells me I look like a commander that you used to know.” Zoe, for the first time in the whole exchange, almost looks nervous, shuffling between their two feet.

Maybe Falco and Gabi told them what happened. Words elude him if he were to try to explain anyway. For that, Levi is grateful for the straightforward manner of children.

Levi pulls out a photograph from his shirt pocket and hands it to Zoe. It’s a copy of the one back at home, printed in a smaller, carriable version.

“This is the commander. Hange.” He leaves out the surname, as Zoe observes the photograph of the two of them carefully.

“Did you two fight the war?” With that question, Levi confirms for himself that Gabi and Falco probably didn’t tell Zoe the whole story.

“Yes.”

“Did you win?”

There is a difficult, necessary silence that accompanies Zoe’s inquiry. “I don’t think anyone did.”

Zoe nods, eyeing the photograph again.

“Is that your best friend?”

Levi never quite thought about the nature of his relationship with Hange, so he pauses, eyes flickering towards the photograph—at the hand hidden in Hange’s coat.

“Like Gabi and Falco?” Zoe asks, making Falco blubber in denial, which he does so whenever someone associates him with Gabi as a pair.

“Yes.” Levi decides. The best of many friends.

“Your friend looks cool!” Zoe hands the photograph back to Levi, peering at him with wide-eyed intensity.

“Will you tell me more about the war?”

Placing his cheek on his palm, Levi bends closer to Zoe. “What would you like to know?”

-----

As the day draws to a close, Zoe still has questions. The sunset closes in on Levi and his small, attentive audience.

“Can I talk to you again tomorrow?”

Though fatigued, his body worn out from the unexpectedly long exertion, Levi finds himself agreeing.

“Yes.”

“One more question, please?”

Levi obliges.

“Do I remind you of Hange?” Zoe asks, a frown forming within the wrinkle between their eyebrows. Levi registers the suspicion, unable to figure out its source.

“Sometimes.”

“Which part?”

“Your curiosity,” Truthfully, there was not much he could garner from a one-day spontaneous meeting. Zoe’s curiosity, however, was blatantly obvious. Nonetheless, plenty of children are interested in many things—it was not anything special, Levi internally assures himself.

Zoe pouts slightly, a troubled expression now apparent. “But I’m not Hange. I’m Zoe.”

“I know,” Levi says unconvincingly.

“Do you miss them?”

Levi doesn’t answer the question, preferring to gaze over their shoulder.

“I’m not Hange. But do you want to be friends?”

Raising an eyebrow, Levi tries not to sound too sarcastic. “A kid like you wants to be my friend?”

“Gabi and Falco think you’re very cool. They also think you could do with more friends.” Falco has the decency to avoid eye contact, preferring the scenery of his shoes.

“You don’t go out that much!” Gabi says, hitting the nail on the coffin.

The familiarity of Zoe still stings him in the gut, where the similarities make it appear like the universe is playing an awful, blessed joke on Levi.

What did Hange tell all of them, that day in the sweltering sun?

Let’s meet them ourselves. If they don’t understand who we are, we just have to teach them.

“I don’t really fully understand who you are and why you look so sad. But I hope to learn more from you, Levi!”

A leap of faith comes in the form of a small child. A spunky, talkative child with an unsatiated thirst for knowledge and acute compassion for a depressed man they just met.

Straining his hip, Levi reaches out to ruffle Zoe’s wisps of stray hair, tightening the rubber band that kept their ponytail in place.

“We have a lot to learn from each other,” Levi says softly, allowing himself this leap. Only this once.

Zoe gives him the brightest of smiles, revealing an open, toothy grin.

[actualsunflower]

ur art is rlly inspiring for me... I struggle a lot with line art, would u be ok giving advice? I rlly love ur art

I'm really sorry I left this in my inbox for long, I've just been trying to figure out how to answer fjdfskf but first that makes me very happy that you find my art so inspiring 🥺 really, I've worked so hard on my art for so long, and I struggle so bad to see it as good and worthy of even sharing. Looking back at old art I can see the progress, but it's still hard to look at it and call it good myself. I have a bad habit of comparing myself to other artists out there and I never compare in my eyes :/ it's really hard unlearning that but I've been making a lot of progress, and actually spending almost a year not sharing any of my art really helped with that. (I'm not saying do the same thing it's just my experience!!) Now it doesn't bother me quite as much.

See I left this ask in my drafts for so long. I was going to make a little tutorial on how I do things, see if that helped but I just kinda... Never did it, executive dysfunction and work and all. So I'll just give some tips instead

1- My first advice is to give up the tiny lines, the one teeny line at a time thing, and go for full lines. It doesn't have to be like the entire face shape at once, but do bigger chunks because the more lines the more shaggy and jagged it looks. You won't get a smooth cohesive line like that if you're going for a clean and smooth look. It's hard to get over habits like that but once you do your art And your wrists/arms/shoulders will thank you. (This only applies if you want a clean look, if that's your thing and what you're going for disregard that. But this is about my art specifically.)

2- always stretch your wrists, it really does help. Give your hand a good pull back (not to where it hurts) and make a fist and roll your wrist, it helps A LOT and feels good lol stretching your whole body is good as well, if you've got bad posture like me you'll start hurting halfway through. A lot of times though you won't even notice you're in pain until you try to sit up.... Ouch

3- USE REFERENCES!!!! It is not cheating, it's not cutting corners it is essential to learning!!! And not just learning but it's essential for just enjoying art, it takes away so much frustration of "why doesn't this look right?!" And something else nice, is if you're really struggling with something, just take a picture of yourself and trace it. I do it all the time and it has saved me many a frustrating breakdown. Just make sure you own or have permission to use the photos you're tracing over. Just don't use it as a crutch, as in for every single thing because it can at some point hinder growth. My advice is just sketch over the general shape, and then do the rest yourself. Just having that shape/position will help way more than you know. And don't be afraid to just cobble together references, paste and reshape and move whatever you want or need.

4- Play with and make brushes. I have a special brush that is used Only for Jay's vitiligo and it saves me a lot of time, pain, and just looks really cool and helps me keep it consistent. And you'll be surprised at how you feel by just changing the brush you do line art with. Softer/harder brushes can change everything

5- literally who cares about shading. If it looks cool, put it in. If you don't think it looks cool, erase it. You are the god of lighting and shading in your own art, it doesn't matter where the light is coming from. Just say there's multiple light sources even, it really don't matter

6- learn to use multiply and add layers, they are super helpful and fun. Multiply layers are great for shading AND blush, I use one clipped over Jay's face for blush, just clip, watercolor over cheeks/nose/ear tips, slight transparency and bam perfect blush (for color, I pick base skin tone, slide bar to red, deepen a bit, perfect) (I use the color box/w the side bar) add layers are great for glowing things and bright lighting. (A tip for glowing things, use the desired color, blur a bit, then use a dot of white in the middle, blur that. Extra glow!)

7- warming up is a great idea. I just scribble a bunch, do little doodles of my pets, go from faintest to hardest in pressure and back again in on line, then I usually do something a bit more substantial, which is typically drawing Jay or Nick lol that's why I always have so many Jay and Nick drawings. It helps though

8- this one I feel is very important. Don't ever feel like you're copying someone else. People add and remove things from their style subconsciously, I have seen more than once where I post in my style and later see someone else who did something that incorporated that specific thing I did. It just happens. You do it without thinking, and you can do it while thinking it too. Don't trace people's art, but if you love the way someone draws eyes, just draw them like that too. Nobody owns an art style, no one can stop you and you will not get in trouble from doing that. Eventually anyway it will evolve into your own unique way, and people will do the same when they see your art. It's and endless cycle in the art community and it is one of the treasures of sharing our art. Whether we think it or not we are all influencing each other and it's a beautiful thing.

That's all I can think of rn so, I hope this is helpful and I apologize for taking forever lol

[anightflower]

Come and Find Me Chapter 5: The Game

Sorry this chapter is a bit short, I am in the midst of finals and final projects. Thank you for sticking by my side, despite the crazy schedule 

Spencer Reid x Reader 

Masterlist

Warnings: Stalking, Swearing, Violence

Spencer made his way to the counter, a smiling Ava greeted him. 

“Spencer! I’m surprised you’re not with (Y/N), not that I’m not happy to see you of course.” 

Spencer returned her smile with a slightly nervous one, “She’s still in bed, I thought I would bring her some coffee before I head to the office. I also wanted to talk to you about something.” 

“Oh Spencer, if you’re confessing your undying devotion to me now, I’m afraid it’s a bit too late, I have my own sexy superhero boyfriend now.” Ava said, doing her signature eyebrow waggle, causing Spencer to laugh. 

“I do have a confession, but it involves (Y/N).” Spencer said, a smile spreading across his face.

Her expression became more serious. “Wait is (Y/N) pregnant?” 

“I- no, that’s not what-” Spencer stuttered, Ava let out a giggle out Spencer’s flustered face. 

“I want to ask her to move in with me.” Spencer said finally. 

“Oh my gosh Spencer, that’s fantastic! And I’m honored that you’re asking me, as (Y/N) was mine first, so it’s only right you ask me permission.” Ava grinned, pressing a hand to her heart. 

“Do you think she’ll say yes? I don’t want to rush her, I know we’ve been only dating for 8 months, but it just feels right. I love her so much and I want to wake up to her every morning and kiss her goodnight every night. Besides it will be so much easier because she basically lives at my apartment now and I just want to make it official, you know?” Spencer rambled. 

Ava’s face radiated pure joy. “Oh Spence, she’ll definitely say yes! God (Y/N) will be over the moon are you kidding? You two are the cutest fucking thing, oh my god this is so exciting!” She squealed. 

“I’m going to ask her when she gets back from Florida, I know her lease is almost up so that will make things a lot easier too. I’ve been looking at different apartments that are slightly bigger because I know she wants an at home office and I’m sure it will be nice to have her own space-”

“Spencer, I am so glad she has you. You make her so happy and treat her so well. I know she’ll be happy with whatever. But beware, her full interior designer will come out if you guys get your own place.” Ava warned teasingly. 

“I’m looking forward to it.” Spencer grinned. 

________________________________________________________________

His hand shook as he opened the door to his apartment. As he slammed the door shut, he met the worried face of his roommate, who was putting on his jacket to leave.

“You okay man?” His roommate Nick asked, eyes filled with concern. 

“Don’t worry about it dude.” The Boy said with an angry shrug making his way to his room. 

“Uh, okay dude, if you need anything shoot me a text. I’m meeting up with Ava, I’ll probably stay at her place for a couple days.” 

“Cool bro, have fun.” The boy said flatly. 

Nick looked like he was about to say something, but he shut his mouth and shrugged.

“Later.” Nick said quietly, grabbing his bag and fleeing out the door. 

The Boy didn’t respond. He just stomped into his room, red filling his vision. 

The Doctor was going to take you away from him permanently, he could feel it. 

Moving in leads to marriage, then kids. How could he have let it get this far? The Boy should have intervened earlier, opened your eyes to the truth. 

The Boy let out a scream and punched a whole in the wall. It felt good to let his anger out. He pictured the Doctor in place of the wall, the image brought of that man bloodied and pleading sent pleasurable shivers through him. The Boy made his way to his bed and pulled out a box from underneath it. It was an obvious spot to keep it underneath there, but Nick respected his space, so the boy had not been worried. 

He pulled out his pictures of you. Each image lovingly taken of you, images of you getting ready for work, smiling with Ava, and then his favorites, the ones of you sleeping peacefully in your bed. He had to resist reaching out and caressing your face. He knew he couldn’t risk waking you up, it wasn’t time for you to see him yet, but now it was. 

The boy had started to calm down, until an image of you kissing Spencer fell out of the pile. Red filled his vision once again. He had purposely taken this picture to remind himself of his goal; being in the Doctor’s place. 

He ripped the image to shreds, and threw the box of goods causing your pictures, some of your old coffee cups and Drew’s home videos to fly all over his room. His rage filled him as he flipped his desk. He couldn’t stop himself as he ripped his rooms to shreds, breaking things and tossing various items at the wall in rage. 

When his breathing finally returned to normal, the boy grabbed a bag and began packing. He threw in all of his essentials and grabbed the tapes and photos he could of you. He wasn’t coming back here after this. You and him were going to start a new life in Florida, he had already set everything up. He had his own secluded place and sent ahead some of the things he needed ahead. 

He would leave tonight and be down in Florida a day before you. He had planned to arrive a day ahead of you so he could get your home ready. He had even made a little room for you to adjust to everything, knowing how this big of a change would affect you. But he knew you would do it once you realized that you two were meant to be. 

Joy filled the boy as he looked around his mess of a room, he felt relief at the thought of never seeing this place or the Doctor again. Yet in his happy stupor, he failed to see the photos and tape he had missed to pick up.

________________________________________________________________

Present Day

Reid had reached speeds of nearly 110 as he raced back to the precinct with Emily. SHe had not chastised him for his speeds, too worried about the sorrow in Penelope’s voice and what that could mean. 

They raced into the precinct and found Penelope, JJ, and Morgan in the meeting room. 

“Hotch and Rossi are still talking to Curtis, but they should be back in 30.” Morgan explained. 

“There is no time to wait.” Penelope growled. “I can show this to them once they get here.”

“Any luck at Special Delivery?” Emily asked JJ. 

“It shut down 5 weeks ago apparently. So whoever we saw, still had access to a uniform. They probably did it to copy Curtis.” JJ explained, her face solemn. 

“Shit.” Emily said, flopping down into a chair.”

“I received this ten minutes ago.” Penelope explained, drawing everyone’s attention to the screen at the front of the room. “Reid, you aren’t going to like this, I’m so sorry.”

Spencer’s blood ran cold as he prepared himself for the worst. 

The screen was black for a few seconds and then an automated voice rang out from the speakers. “Ring! Ring!”  the deep voice said. “Have you figured it out, Dr. Reid?” 

Spencer’s heart stopped as images of you flooded the screen. Photos of you and Spencer flashed across the screen. None of which either of you had taken yourselves, each of these was taken from afar. He felt ill when he saw the ones from outside of your apartment. He nearly vomited when the screen switched to photos of you inside your apartment, peacefully sleeping, completely unaware that a completely crazed man was inches away from you. 

“I’ve been to your lectures, Dr. Reid.” A voice narrated from the screen. “I know you’ve studied men like me. It’s very fascinating to hear someone talk about you like they’ve known you since birth, when the two of you haven’t even met once. You took one of my dearest friends away from me. But we adapted, your small victory didn’t stop him from guiding me to my love and taking her from you. Do you think with all your knowledge, all of your cases, all of your team, that you can find her in time?” 

A timer appeared on the screen, counting down from a minute. 

“What?” Penelope cried out, “That wasn’t there before, how in the hell is it there?” She rushed to her computer and began messing around on the keyboard. 

Spencer shot out of his chair and raced over to Penelope’s side. “Penelope, what does this countdown mean?” He asked, panicked.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! It didn’t appear before this. The email didn’t even mention a countdown! I tried to track the email, but it was a throwaway.” Penelope looked ready to cry. 

“Spencer, it could mean anything.” Morgan said, trying to calm him down.

“Oh yeah Morgan?” Spencer spat. “Well considering it was showing images of my girlfriend before it, my hopes aren’t too high!”

“Spencer.” JJ snapped, “Yelling isn’t going to solve anything.”

“What if it was Will JJ? Would you be calm?” Spencer growled back at her. 

The timer was quickly reaching its end. 

“Penelope do something, please.” Spencer begged, his voice breaking.

“I’m trying, I don’t know what to do.” Penelope cried out, horrified at her helplessness. 

Tears began to flow down Spencer’s face. The room watched in horrified silence as the timer reached zero. 

It was silent for a moment and then Spencer’s phone rang.

He looked down at it to see it was an unknown number. His heart stopped as he realized “Ring! Ring!”

“(Y/N) promised to call me after her meeting, if she had been there, she would have called me now.”  Spencer said quietly. 

“Spencer, if you answer it, I can try and track the number and centralize the area it could be coming from.” Penelope explained urgently. 

Spencer took a deep breath and answered the phone. They all jumped up in shock as a video feed came on at the same time he pressed answer. 

His heart swelled with relief, you were alive, you seemed unharmed, but god you looked terrified. 

“Penelope, scan the room, see if you can find any recognizable items.” Morgan mumbled quietly.  

As Penelope’s keys began clacking a way, a voice that sounded eerily like the one in the video of you smugly said, “Hello Doctor, so nice to finally talk to you. Or have we talked before? You never know, let’s see if that big brain of yours remembers.” 

“Who are you?” Spencer hissed into the phone.

“Someone who you’ve taken so much from. My mentor, the woman I love- but luckily this ends now.” The voice purred.

“What do you want?” Spencer tried to keep his voice calm. 

“I want to play a game with you Doctor, let’s see if that genius brain of yours is as good as they say. You have 24 hours to find your girl. If you are so smart you’ll be able to find her. But when you don’t, and you won’t, it will prove that you don’t don’t deserve her. That you never deserved her. If you can’t find her in time, you will never see her again.”

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST

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[lindstromm]

Simplified Bookbinding:  Font and Text Ornaments

In the first post in this series, How to Make a Cheap First Book, I set out the four steps of bookbinding:

1. Format the text and print it. (This post is all about this step.)

2. Create the text block.

3. Create the case.

4. Attach the case to the text block.

In this post, I’ll give some pointers to get your story from a word processor, or an AO3 story, to a printed page. There are two main formatting sections: (1) the intro pages like the title page and the “about this book” page:

And (2) the text of the book, which may include specialized chapter title font and text separators:

Formatting tips and pics under the cut.

I use Microsoft Word for formatting and printing. I know one method and I stick to that, and I use basically the same formatting process on every story. I get overwhelmed if I have to do something specialized every time or have too many choices. So look at this tutorial as your starter pack, and once you get comfortable, branch out and get as fancy and specialized as you want.

In the Simplified Bookbinding method, we print on A5 pages, which makes the pagination a whole lot easier than printing signature booklets. I have two separate files per book - the intro pages are one file; the text is a second file. This way I don’t have to figure out how to suppress page numbers on part of a file. The intro pages file does not have page numbers; the text file has page numbers.

Page Setup in Word

1. Open a new document.

2. Click “Layout” then “Size.” You need to tell Word that you’re printing on A5 size paper. If the dropdown menu doesn’t include A5, then click on “More Paper Sizes” at the bottom of the menu and fill in the A5 size manually. It’s 5.83 wide by 8.27 high:

Click ‘OK’ and let’s get started putting text on the page.

The Intro Pages

Go pull a professionally published book off your shelf and look at the title page. You’re going to format your title page basically the same way. It’s going to have the title, the author and maybe a text ornament. Center it on the page.

I googled the name of the fandom to get a text block that says “The Old Guard.” A recognizable symbol for that movie is the main character’s labrys, so I googled “labrys line drawing” and snipped it. I titled my story “The Next Job” because I lack the fanfiction ability to select beautiful lines of poetry for story titles. Not as lovely, I’ll grant you, but it fits better on the spine of a book. Anyway, play around with your formatting until you like how it looks. Print a test page.

This is a good time to find out how to print on A5 paper. My printer has a paper size option in the menu, in which I could select “A5″ and then just push the paper holder in the tray for the smaller paper. If you don’t have a printer or can’t connect it, then . . . um, problem. Some bookbinders send print jobs to Staples or other office supply shops. You would have to ask them about printing on custom sized paper and see what they charge. (If you’re going to have it printed at a shop, don’t use easily identifiable text ornaments unless you want to explain to the print shop employee why you aren’t violating copyright laws.)

Depending on your fandom, you may be able to find a fun text ornament that identifies your fandom, like the Avenger’s symbol, a Star Trek symbol, Star Wars, whatever fandom you’re in, I’m sure there’s a graphic you can use. Things like these:

Now we’re going to format the “about this book” page. Look at a professionally published book. This is where you have the copyright information and publisher information. I put in basic information in a list format. In most of my books, I put in a word count and which font I used, just so I can keep track of about how many pages a word count will be. You can put in different info.

On a third page, you can format the author summary and any author notes you want to include. I keep author notes that talk about what the story means to the author. I don’t keep author notes that are basically apologies for not updating often enough. That’s entirely up to you.

So those are your intro pages. It’s 2-4 sheets of paper. I always set 4 blank pages in front of the title page. You’ll notice that professionally published books have a few blank pages before the title page as well. I also put 4 blank pages at the end of the book.

Story Text Pages

Now we’re going to format the actual story. There is a page limit to how much you can bind into one book when using this Simplified Method. You’re limited by the size of the binder clips used in perfect binding. Yep, true, binder clips are your limiting factor. The most I can usually get into big binder clips is about 225 sheets of paper. It varies depending on your paper weight. Take out about 12 sheets for intro and end pages, and that leaves me about 210 printed pages, which double-sided is 420 pages of text. The max word count I’ve bound in one book is 140,000 words. You can bind lengthy works but you will have to play around with margins and font size to keep the number of pages to something that fits into the binder clips.

1. Open a new Word document.

2. Set the paper size to A5 the same way you did for the intro pages document.

3. I always set all four margins to 0.7 just to get more words on a page. I wouldn’t go much smaller than that. You can keep your margins at 1 inch if you want, and I would recommend it if you’re printing less than 50,000 words.

4. Insert page numbers.

5. Go to the story on AO3. Make sure you’re in the “Entire Work” view because it’s a pain to cut and paste chapter by chapter. Press Ctrl-A to “Select All.”

6. Navigate back to your document. Press Ctrl-V to paste the entire mess into your document.

7. Save the file. Save often. You don’t want to lose your formatting.

8. Delete all the stuff that isn’t story text. The “Select All” will have picked up all the buttons and the kudos list and comment box and everything. Just delete it all until you only have text left. The text will have spacing between paragraphs, no indents, chapter headings in the middle of pages, and so forth.

9. When you’ve got nothing but text, press Ctrl-A again to select all the text and we’re going to do some basic formatting. With all the text selected, make these changes:

     a. Change the font to Gentium Book Basic 12 pt. (There are hundreds of fonts to choose from. I stick to Gentium Book Basic 12 pt or Book Antiqua 12 pt for the text of the story.)

     b. Get into the paragraph format menu. Change the spacing Before and After to 0, and add a first line indent of 0.3. On an A5 page, the standard indent of 0.5 is too deep.

Click out and your page count should change drastically to something pretty close to what your finished page count will be.

10. Now we’re going to format the chapter headings. If you’re in a highly merchandised fandom, you’ll be able to find custom fonts that you can use for chapter headings. Some are free to download. I’ve got the font for Frozen and another one for Star Trek.

Fun, right? If you don’t have a fandom-specific font, I recommend using Narkisim or Baskerville Old Face for chapter heading text. Both are included with Word.

     a. If you have more than a couple chapters, it’s easier to set a Heading to auto-format your chapter titles than it is to select text, change font, and center for every single chapter. To do that, format Chapter One the way you want it. Select font, font size, center it on the page (you’ll have to turn off that 0.3 first line indent for just the chapter heading text). While you have your chapter heading text formatted and selected, go to the Home menu and right-click on Heading 2, then select the top option: “Update Heading 2 to Match Selection”. I couldn’t get a snip with the right-click, but this is what you want to right-click on:

Then for your next paragraph, just select the text of chapter number and title, click Heading 2, and it automatically applies all the formatting for you. Yay!

     b. With the copy and paste we did to get the text from AO3 into Word, the chapters may start in the middle of a page. Make sure you press Ctrl-Enter at the end of a chapter to start the next chapter on a new page.

     c. If you want to insert a text ornament at each chapter heading, that can be fun. If that’s too much right now, don’t worry about. I didn’t start using text ornaments until I had done about 15 books. You’ll have to work to get the text ornament the right size and positioned under the chapter heading text.

Are you done with chapter headings? Moving on!

11. Scene breaks. You know those places inside a chapter where there’s a scene break? Go look at a professionally published book. Many will just have a double space between paragraphs to mark a scene break. That’s probably the easiest way to mark a scene break. Go right ahead and do it that way.

12. Text separators at scene breaks. If you want, you can put in a text ornament to mark a scene break. There are full line text ornaments, or tiny text ornaments:

I found all my text separators by googling ‘images text ornaments’ or ‘text dividers’ and then snipping from the screen. Here are a few I haven’t used yet, which aren’t quite as blurry as everything I take a photo of (sucky camera phone):

To get a text ornament on the page of a Word doc, you go to “Insert” and click on “Pictures” and then select your image file. Then you have to resize it and position it, plus curse because it knocked all your text out of alignment, wonder what the purpose of image anchors are, drag, accidentally drop it in the middle of the paragraph, discover that Word has green guidelines that appear at random. I tell you what, text ornaments are a real treat. I just like them, okay? I like the way they look, I mean, they are annoying to work with. I did discover that once I have it resized, I copy that image, and then paste it into the next scene break rather than inserting the image from file again. That way I know all the text ornaments are the same size.

All done? Got it all formatted? Looks so great, doesn’t it?

Take a deep breath. Take a few days off. The hardest part is yet to come.

Printing

You’ll have to figure out how to print double-sided on A5 paper. I have very little advice here. It’s going to be you figuring out how to get your printer to cooperate. I’ve discovered that auto-double sided printing does not work on A5 paper. The print rollers just aren’t designed for little pieces of paper. My inkjet printer would auto-double-side on A5 paper, but it would offset the text on the front and back by a centimeter. My laser printer won’t auto-double-side at all on A5 paper. I manually double-side the pages. I can do it in batches of 20 pages at a time, so it’s not so bad.

If you are manually double-siding, make sure you know how to orient the pages when you stick them back in the printer. Instead of practicing on your actual book, just print pages that are blank other than the page number. Print pages 1-10 double-sided and see if you have to rotate the pages 180 degrees, or flip them over before putting them back in the paper tray.

Printing is a pain in the butt. Especially if you run out of toner partway through, or your printer starts printing a black line down the middle of every page. WHY??? It just does. It takes me about an hour to print about 80,000 words. I hope you will someday be more efficient than I am, but that’s how long it takes me.

Phew. Okay. Formatting and printing are done. Yay!! I’m very proud of you. That’s a huge job.

[yurissweettooth]

Yay For 10 Years!🎉🎉

*Psst, click the image for higher quality!*

I have zero shame in saying that this show (and all related media) has changed my whole life in so many ways! I’m also not shy about the fact that my heart belongs to Yuri (I think he's so cool!) so of course he was the obvious choice for who do draw and write a short, light hearted fic about (which you can read below the cut!)💚💙

I hope everyone has had a lot of fun on this day!

“Let’s see here… Kotetsu Kaburagi damage report… Kotetsu Kaburagi damage report… Kotetsu Kaburagi... damage report…” Yuri exhaled, massaging the bridge of his nose in exasperation as he leafed through a mountain of crinkled, coffee stained documents. It was of little to no surprise that the pile of paperwork that had been left on his desk while he was away on his lunch break could mostly be attributed to the more reckless half of Sternbild’s prized crime fighting duo. With  a sigh Yuri lifted the receiver of his phone, intending to politely  remind Tiger once again not to use his paperwork as a coaster. However,  before he could dial the number it had begun to ring.

“Justice department, Yuri Petrov speaking.” he answered, suppressing his annoyance and replacing it with his usual polite tone.

“Good afternoon Mr. Petrov, it’s Agnes. As you might be aware, today is the ten year anniversary of the Justice Tower’s remodeling.” She explained.

“Remodeling?”

“Yes. Ten years ago today all of the walls were repainted and appliances replaced to give it a more modern look to reflect a new era of Heroes.” She stated, as if that really explained anything at all.

“That is quite lovely to hear Ms. Joubert. The paint is, uh, a very nice color.” he stated politely, not even sparing a glance at the boring grey walls that surrounded him.

“Look, you don’t have to flatter me, I couldn’t care less about the paint color either. The sponsors are complaining that the returns on their investments are decreasing so we need to drum up some interest and we need to do it fast. Anything can be a reason to celebrate if you look at it right way, right? I mean, do you have any better ideas?”

“Ms. Joubert, I’m merely a judge… I apologize, but I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“Yes, precisely! You’re a judge, bringer of justice, upholder of the law!” she passionately proclaimed “Apollon media stands for justice, as such it’s only natural that we feature a man of true justice like yourself..”

Yuri elicits a sound of smug approval and leans back in his chair “Well, I suppose when you word it in that way I may be able to see your point.”

“Fantastic! So, of course our main heroes are our star attraction, our second league heroes are a nice side dish, but you’re probably somewhere right below that when it comes to your importance in delivering justice. ”

“Oh… is that so?” Yuri asked as his briefly amused tone fell flat at her backhanded remark. Was she trying to insult him?

“Precisely.” she said as though she believed she had just bestowed upon him the complement of the century. “I was thinking, in a way you’re kind of like a minor hero yourself so maybe we could spin it as something like a ‘Meet Sternbild’s Hidden Heroes!’ segment. Of course we’ll save all the big questions for our real heroes but maybe at some point we could get your perspective on what you think of the decor of the tower and what it’s like to be a judge.”

As he began to feel the backs of his eyes grow warm he made the quick decision to end the call there before he lost his composure. “Agnes, you always have incredible ideas and I wish you all the best with pursuing that. Thank you for the information, I'll think it over. I’ll be returning to my paperwork now but please don’t hesitate to contact me again when you are in need of further assistance.”

“Oh, you're doing paperwork? In that case, this is actually a great opportunity. Stay put and act natural, I’ll be there in just a minute with the supplies and the film crew.” Agnes made a point of hanging up quickly before he even got the chance to protest.

Just as she’d promised, Agnes and her posse were barging into his office and shoving cameras in his face before he’d even been able to sign off on the first document. She wasted no time in bounding right up to his desk, turning towards the camera.

“Would you look at that, Sternbild’s very own Judge Yuri Petrov, hard at work as usual!” She gracefully spun around and held the microphone out to him “So tell us Yuri, what are you working on currently?”

He pursed his lips, just barely masking his disapproval. He had never been one for interviews, especially not while presenting simply as Judge Petrov, so he figured it best just to blurt out a few simple answers and get it over with quickly. “Well you see, Wild Tiger has again destroyed more property in one week than a group of delinquents could in their entire lifetime." He motioned to the papers in front of him "As you can see, I have a lot of damage reports that I need to-.”

It was rather frightening how suddenly Agnes was able to snap out of her charming, professional mode. “Hey! Take your job seriously!” she shouted, slamming her hands against his desk. “You’re supposed to say ‘Heh heh, I’m sure you would love to know but that’s confidential.’ and wink at the camera or something like that.”

“You’re right, my apologies." Yuri said. He tucked a lock of his hair behind his ears, shuffled his papers, and started again. Sorry, I can’t tell you what I’m working on as doing so would violate the code outlined in article 371 B of the Sternbild judic-”

“Ugh, forget it, moving on. Ahem, soooo Mr. Petrov, why don’t you tell us a little bit about what led you to become a judge and why serving justice is so important to you.”

“Ah, well that one is simple.” he said, putting on the vaguest semblance of a friendly smile “I believe that justice is important.”

Agnes nodded her head, the microphone still pointed at him for a moment longer. That is, until the moment passed without him saying anything else. “I-is that all?”

“I’m not sure what else can really be said on the topic.” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Jeez, who hired this guy…” she muttered. “Well, can you at least tell me what you think of the new penholders?”

“Aren’t these from ten years ago?”

“Well they’re newer to you because you only started working here just within the past two years.”

“Mm, I see… but couldn’t the same have been said for the pen holders that were here before the renovation if they were still here now? Does being new to me really make them new?”

Agnes lowered the microphone and gave him a look that would make even Lunatic tremble in fear. “Alright, I had hoped we could avoid it but you’ve left me no choice but to resort to plan B.”

The words “plan B” didn’t leave the most pleasant feeling in Yuri’s gut and, for a moment, he almost considered interjecting and asking to restart the interview. However, Agnes already had her mind made up and was knocking his paperwork and carefully arranged pens aside to make room for a large box displaying the company logo. She rifled through the contents, producing a large cupcake bearing red and green candles in the shape of the number ten among other various party related items.

“Bring it in.” Agnes motioned her crew closer to get a better shot as she rounded the corner of his desk and placed a large, blue and green party hat on his head, pressing it down to try and make it sit smoothly atop his curly hair. “You like these colors, right?” she asked, as if the colors were what might be wrong with this.

“Well, yes but…” he started, but she silenced him with a simple wave of her hand.

“Alright, great. Here, put this in your mouth.” she said, shoving a party blowout, rather reminiscent of Sky High's suit, towards his lips “Try not to get any lipstick on it, we need to reuse this for next year.”

“May I ask why you are making me do this?” Yuri asked, his resolve wavering.

“I’ve decided we’re doing a magazine interview instead. I’ll write out all of your answers for you, we just need a few photos of you to accompany them. Now, pretend like you’re having fun!” she reached back into the box, grabbed a handful of confetti, and sprinkled the colored paper over his head. “Cain, go go go!” she instructed, hoping not to have to waste all of their confetti on just one shoot.

Yuri complied, albeit begrudgingly, but only because it seemed to be the only way to put an end to this save for burning the place down. He gave her the smile she requested, posed with the cake, and shuffled his papers around a few more times to make it look like he had been working.

“Alright, that’s a wrap.” Agnes said at last “This should be enough to work with." She said as she began to pick what confetti she could from Yuri’s hair and place it back into the box.

“Ms. Joubert, I must ask, will something like this really be helpful to our image?” Yuri sighs.

Agnes closes up the box and sets it on the floor beside his desk.“Well, it will be interesting, that’s for sure.” she answered vaguely, “Thanks for your time, I think I can use what I got. I saw you eyeing it so you can keep the cake as compensation, just have the other stuff back to me by this evening.” She had already turned to leave before another thought popped into her head “Oh, and Yuri?”

Yuri, rather reluctantly, looked up with a questioning look. He prayed it wasn't another weird question or dumb photo idea.

“Maybe try to be a bit more cheerful sometimes, with an attitude like that people are going to start thinking you hate heroes or something. Plus, you actually look sort of pleasant when you’re smiling and having fun, even if you're just faking.” she shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll have a copy of the issue on your desk when it comes out.” she said, waving her crew after her and closing the door behind them.

Yuri, now alone in his trashed office, exhaled a sigh of relief at her departure. “I suppose the public wouldn’t be too pleased if they thought their judge hated heroes.” he remarks to himself as his glowing fingertips make contact with the candle wicks and set them alight. Once his hand had cooled he brushed it across the surface of his desk and collected the remaining confetti, repeating Agnes’s words from their phone call earlier about how anything can be a reason to celebrate. He took the stack of papers and shoved it into the bottom drawer of his desk. In a swift movement he sat back and tossed the confetti into the air above his head in celebration of ,what he just decided, was going to be a well deserved and much needed day off. As the scraps of paper rained down on him he recalled  her other words and smiled to himself.

[queenbirbs]

waiting for rain | Ethan x MC

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC

Warnings: language

Word count: 2,786

Summary: After the funeral, Sloane catches a ride. Post chapter 11. 

------

It’s a beautiful day. 

The last week has been nothing but blue skies and balmy temperatures, with autumn peeking its head around the corner. The city is lovely anytime of year, but Boston thrives in the fall. The Common and adjacent gardens come alive in a spray of colors as the leaves change, the canopy dipped in orange and yellow and red. 

It feels wrong, then, that the day is so nice and bright as they trudge along the rows of graves and back towards Bryce’s car. Glancing over her shoulder, Sloane frowns at the swath of black as Danny’s family gathers around the grave to watch the interment. Their labored breathing and soft cries carry over the open lawn and down to the road. 

“What a shitty fucking day.” Jackie kicks at a pile of loose gravel along the pavement with her heel.

“At least the rain held off,” Sienna pipes up from where she’s slumped against the car. Clenched in her shaking hand is a gladiolus that Danny’s sister gave her from the casket spray. Noticing Sloane’s attention on the flower, Sienna traces a finger along the white petals with a wobbly smile. “I’m going to press it in my copy of The Secret of Ninradell.”    

“Nerd,” Jackie mutters, coaxing a tremulous chuckle from Sienna. 

Beside them, the doors unlock with a droning whir. The three of them pile into the back; Elijah and Bryce’s voices drift down as they approach. 

“You know, all those parking tickets you keep getting are starting to make a lot more sense now.”

“These hands are for performing surgical miracles, not parallel parking on an incline.”

“A kid with a learner’s permit could parallel park this, dude. Your car is the Chevrolet equivalent of a sardine can.”

“We’re well aware of that,” Jackie chimes in from the center seat. “So can you two hurry it up?” 

As Bryce helps Elijah into the passenger seat, Sloane catches sight of Ethan’s car tucked in along the other side of the access road. She caught a brief glance of him at the graveside service, but he disappeared into the crowd of mourners soon after her impromptu eulogy. The sun’s reflection on his windshield prevents her from seeing if he’s even inside. But then, a few cars down, Harper gives a little goodbye wave towards his car as she and Aurora reach her own vehicle. 

Sloane throws open the door. Jackie frowns and reaches out for her as she slides out. 

“Hey, what are you--”

“I’m going to catch a ride with Dr. Ramsey.” At the wave of worried expressions she receives, Sloane sighs. “I’m okay. I promise. You guys shouldn’t… I’ll see you at home.” 

With that pithy attempt at reassurance, she shuts the door and crosses over to the S-Class. The driver’s side window rolls down before she reaches it, revealing Ethan in his customary black suit. His striking blue eyes are tinged red -- a sight Sloane has become accustomed to over the last week when catching herself in the bathroom mirror. 

“Hi,” she says.

“Hello,” he returns. He glances down her figure, as if cataloging something, and then back up to meet her eyes. “Come on, then.”

“Thanks.” 

She crosses to the passenger side and settles into the seat, avoiding his curious gaze by feigning a struggle with the seatbelt. Thankfully, he drops whatever question is plaguing him and starts the engine. Within a few minutes, they’re cruising south down the highway. The classical station finishes its latest piece and the suave-voiced host segways into a round of commercials. When the local news spot starts, both of them reach for the volume button, their fingers bumping clumsily. Ethan reaches it first and turns off the radio, then reaches down to capture Sloane’s hand with his. He links their fingers and squeezes, once, then again, before resting their clasped hands against the leather armrest. His thumb makes easy, gentle strokes along her skin. 

Sloane eases back into her seat. The dull roar of the road isn’t enough to fill the aching silence inside her head. It makes her think of being back in that tented room, all alone, waiting to die. 

“The service was lovely, as was your eulogy.” 

“Sienna should’ve gotten to speak. She -- those were her words, all she could bear to write, but she asked… well, begged me at the last minute to say them for her.” 

“That was kind of you to do.”

Her eyes clench tight at his praise. She focuses on the measured sweeps of his thumb, but all the bitterness in her chest keeps building and building until it bursts free. 

“It should’ve been raining. Why was it… why did it have to be so sunny today? It should’ve rained. He deserved that much, at least. He was one of the only staff on my side when Landry was trying to sabotage me. He didn’t need proof or need to hear my friends vouch for me. He just believed me, straight up. And he was so sweet, and so kind, and so funny and now he’s dead, and I know we took Lasagna’s oath to not play God, but if I could, I would bring back Travis just to kill him for all the hurt he caused, and I know that goes against every--”

“Hey.” Ethan glances up from the road and over to meet her watery gaze. “It’s all right. You’re allowed to feel angry, and hurt.”

“I know,” she says, but it still feels dirty, somehow, to agree. She survived, didn’t she? Why should she get the privilege to fall apart at the seams when two people are dead and buried six feet under? 

She keeps quiet for the rest of the drive. Unfortunately, it’s a rather short one, what with the cemetery being only twenty minutes north of the city. All too soon, they’re crossing the Tobin Bridge. The city skyline crowds the horizon, stacks of gray and glass forking up into the cloudless sky. Ethan takes the wide curve of an exit that crosses the Charles River and into the tunnel, down below the blue blood streets of Boston. As he prepares to merge over to take them towards her apartment, she squeezes his hand to grab his attention. 

“Can I…?” she trails off, regretting how weak the request sounds. She bites back a relieved sigh when he pulls his focus away from the side mirror and over to her. 

“Of course.” 

They make their way through the ever-present downtown congestion before he turns down a side street and into his building’s garage. Neither speak as they exit the car. His hand finds hers once more as they step into the elevator. Jenner greets them at the door with her favorite stuffed duck, insisting on meeting her quota of belly rubs before allowing them entrance. 

“Would you like a drink?” Ethan asks as he steps over the sprawled form of his dog with practiced ease. 

“Yes, please.” 

After a few more pats, Sloane wanders over into the kitchen. Ethan’s suit jacket lays slung across the island, a more telling sign of his mental state than anything visible on his face. His tie joins the pile as he pours them both several fingers of scotch. She takes the tumbler and knocks it back, ignoring the fierce burn at the back of her throat; she hands it back for a refill. 

“Fine,” he sighs, “but this isn’t a jello shot at some tiki bar in Panama City Beach.”

“I wouldn’t know, seeing as I spent my spring breaks waiting tables,” she mutters against the rim of her glass, taking a small sip at his behest. 

“I hated every second of it, if it’s any consolation.”

The murmured confession draws her up short.

“Wait -- you were a PCB spring-breaker? You? The man who can’t name a single artist on the top forty hits? The person whose idea of a good time is reading the green journal and annotating the margins with all the mistakes?”  

“I don’t see how knowledge of Harry Mars’s discography would increase my enjoyment in life.”

Sloane’s face breaks into a grin at the name faux pas, prompting a scowl from him. “What? You said it yourself that I don’t know--”

“No, no, ignore me. Go on.” She rests her hip against the counter. “Please tell me about how you wound up in Florida for spring break.”

“It was Tobias’s idea, actually. He told me we were going to a medical conference in Atlanta. It wasn’t until we passed through Atlanta and he showed no sign of stopping that he told me where we were actually going. By that point, it was far too late to request he turn around. I was, in effect, doomed.”

“Doomed to spend a week at the beach. Poor you.” Rolling her eyes, she knocks her elbow into his side. “Did you at least have some fun?”

“I did. Well, after I went into a store and bought some more... appropriate clothing. Everything in my bag was pressed khakis and polos.” 

Her mind immediately conjures up a younger Ethan, wearing board shorts and flip flops in whatever searing color the local beach shop sold. 

“There has to be pictures, right? I’ve met Tobias, he’s too much of a snake not to have snapped a photo or two.” 

“I’m sure he does,” Ethan agrees. “For blackmail purposes, of course.” 

“And here I was hoping that our time in Miami was your most memorable trip to the Sunshine State.”

“It was.” The weak little smirk she wears disappears, folding under the intense scrutiny of his gaze as it rakes across her. “Why did you ride back with me?” he asks. 

“Because Bryce’s car is ‘the Chevrolet equivalent to a sardine can,’ according to Elijah.” 

He doesn’t acknowledge her lame attempt at brushing aside the question. When the silence grows too long between them, Sloane drags in a shaky breath and caves. “Because being around them, having them dote on me and worry about me, it’s… suffocating. And not because I don’t love them, or appreciate them, but I don’t… I don’t see the point. They should be able to grieve without me burdening them.”

“Sloane.” The way he says her name with all the care in the world drives that guilt deeper. She wants to shrug away his hold on her as he wraps his arms around her shoulders, but she doesn’t. She sinks into his embrace, breathing in the scent of his cologne, feeling the thud of his heart against her cheek. “You are not a burden.”

“Hearing that and knowing that are two different things,” she points out. 

“Then I’ll repeat it a thousand more times until you get it through your thick head.” 

“I don’t know what to do. I’m sad, and hurt, and angry about Danny. He didn’t deserve what happened to him, and neither did Bobby. And Rafael, he almost died, and-- and I almost died. And I’m sad, and hurt, and angry about that. But what gives me the right to feel that way, when I got to live, and they didn’t? Danny, he… he begged Travis to let us go, and all I did was stand there. I fucking stood there and let him kill my friend.”

She doesn’t notice the tears on her face, not until Ethan catches them and wipes them away. “And even after you came in, even after I was wheeled out and got to see Kyra, even after I was discharged, there’s been this crushing weight on my chest. I even wrote goodbye letters on my phone, but I can’t bring myself to delete them. Because what if we’re wrong? It’s like… like what if my body suddenly rejects the antidote and I’m back in that bubble? Like I’m going to wake up and be back in that room, as if this is all a last-ditch effort my brain has conjured up to help me cope with dying.”

Ethan makes a pained noise in the back of his throat. Gathering her impossibly closer, he presses his lips to her hair. 

“This is real. You’re okay. You’re safe, Sloane. This is real.”

“But I don’t want it to be. I want it to all be some sick dream. They wouldn’t’ve even been there if it weren’t for me. If I hadn’t stolen the senator from Mass Kenmore, Danny and Bobby would still be alive. I just… I want to go back. I want to order them all out of that room before Travis ever gets his hand on that canister. If I could trade places with them, we wouldn’t be burying our friends.”

“You’re wrong,” he tells her. “If you were the only one in that room, we’d be burying you. And after coming close to such a thing, it isn’t a reality I’m ever willing to face.” 

Sloane shakes her head as the tears come faster and faster, her body trembling against his. She feels as if she’s drowning, but her head’s above water. 

“The responsibility for what happened lies solely with Travis,” he tries to assure her. “He’s the one who pulled the trigger. He’s the one who was determined to get his revenge, no matter who got caught in the crossfire. He admitted as much to me in his last moments without an ounce of regret.”

“Ethan, I…” her throat closes around the rest of her plea, but somehow, he hears the words. 

His arms loop around her waist, holding her up as her knees buckle under the sudden weight of her grief. His words become nothing more than soft murmurings as he picks her up and carries her off down the hall. 

In his bedroom, he sets her down on the bed. Kneeling before her, he picks up one foot and then the next, unbuckling the strappy heels she wears. Sloane leans forward and strokes against the grain of his stubble; she drags in a steadying breath when he leans into her touch. She reaches down for the hem of her dress, but he beats her to it. Raising her arms instead, she lets him slide the dark fabric over her head. He adds his own clothing to the floor, then joins her in his bed, his naked skin warm against hers. 

Under the covers, Ethan tucks her there against his chest. Her eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his fingers tracing along her bare skin. It reminds her of that last morning they shared together, after the trial. The heartache now is different, vicious in that way only death can be. Sloane burrows closer, wishing she could bottle this feeling of safety and drink from it on the darker days ahead. 

“Yours was the longest,” she admits, her voice sounding small in the quiet room.

“Hmm?” he murmurs. 

“Your letter.” 

The line of him stiffens, his hand stilling its movement. 

“Hand me your phone.”

She rolls over and digs through the pile of their clothing, retrieving her phone from the pocket of her dress and handing it off to him. He holds it between them so she can watch as he navigates to her notepad app. The letters are all there, just as she said, in alphabetical order. She doesn’t miss how his thumb hovers above Naveen’s. 

“I asked him to look after you,” she explains, biting her lip against the rush of emotion at knowing the words hidden beneath the names. 

“When did you write these?”

Ethan’s eyes move from the screen and over to hers, tears collecting in the cradle of his lower lid. Her gaze never waves from his as she answers. 

“After you took Raf away. It… became real, after that. Not that it wasn’t real before, with Danny, but to see him fall into a coma right next to me was a wake-up call. I didn’t want that to happen to me. Not without being able to say goodbye to the people I loved.”   

Leaning across, he kisses her temple, and then her cheek, and then her lips. Then, with a few, quick taps, he deletes the letters and returns her phone. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. At her raised brow, he doubles down. “Not for-- that was for you. I’m saying thank you because you listened to me.” 

She snuggles close once more when he curls his arm around her and flashes him a curious smile. 

“Go on.”

“You didn’t give up,” he tells her, his voice gone thick with emotion. 

Between the sheets, her hand finds his.

“You didn’t give up, either,” she reminds him.

“On you?” he hums, pulling their linked hands towards himself to press a kiss to her fingers. “Never.”

------

Author notes and what-have-yous:

So, I learned that only eleven percent of medical schools still recite the Hippocratic oath verbatim, and about thirty-three percent use Lasagna’s modern oath (which is why I included it instead).This is coming from a few articles I read, all seemingly based in the U.S., so it may not pertain to every school. 

The ‘blue blood streets of Boston’ is pulled directly from a Bob Seger song, though there is a historical connotation behind it. 

The green journal is another name for the American Journal of Medicine. 

[alaraxia]

Process Breakdown: Starfall

Since I got some positive responses to my question on process stuff I’m gonna do a behind the scenes breakdown for my most recent piece to help people see the process I use and how I problem solve. I didn’t plan to do this initially so I won’t have a ton of process shots but I did save a handful. There’s a few scattered hyperlinks to other pieces I reference too. Just a warning this is mostly train of thought so it’s super verbose.  

So base sketches were mostly focused around me defining the shape of the girl since she was the focal point and building the environment around her. Going in the things I knew I wanted were a girl precariously balanced on top of a massive capybara catching a falling star, while surrounded by smaller sleeping capybaras on rocks. I layered out a general forest scene surrounding it but didn’t really commit to much in the sketches. Messed with the angles of the large capybara a few times to make it feel less flat and more 3D in the space, used a lot of reference photos of capybaras and sorta simplified them to what I thought was cute/ what stood out to me as their defining features.

Skipping ahead a solid amount is midway through the initial lineart, with some areas just colored in to define them as separate. Initially this piece was supposed to be in a similar style as my “Stratosphere Dreaming” art, with a single uniform line thickness, bright colors, and no gradient shading at all, but I realized pretty soon after I finished the lineart and started coloring that I had done what I tend to do a lot and made it too complex to pull off successfully in that style so I had to pivot to using gradient shading and other non-cell style techniques (though you can see a lot of those methods still in the coloring of the girl). This caused an even bigger challenge as I was drawing on a large canvas with high DPI in Procreate which resulted in me having a cumulative 50 layers to work with at any given time (hell).

Now once I made that rendering style pivot is when the really hard part began, and why on top of my persistent arm injuries this took me about two months to finally finish.

1.) I had an extremely difficult time trying to figure out the color pallet for the piece. I had an idea of the values and general colors I wanted (you can see some pallets and random base color tests in the image above) but I just couldn’t get them to look right and I became extremely more aggravated as I kept trying new and different things. My biggest mental block was feeling like I was stuck trying to make the initial pallet idea work, but eventually I was able to bump it to a slightly adjacent pallet and it worked far better. Essentially a lot of angry experimenting and testing.

2.) I made the piece too complex for its own good when it came to the foliage and scene. After finding success with a very specific way to render foliage in one of my favorite pieces I started to use it as my standard, but that standard started to show cracks when I had foliage heavy scenes like in my Hollow Knight piece from last year. The rendering style became insanely too time consuming, and incredibly distracting when used in abundance, taking away from the focal point. I knew this but I still attempted to use the same style to render the foreground foliage MULTIPLE times in increasing states of frustration until I stepped back, evaluated it wasn’t working, and tested out a very similar style with the same effect but that I could throw together twice as fast without the aggressive distraction and minuscule details that were irrelevant in the scheme of the art. This frustration in the rendering not working was only exacerbated by the color pallet indecision making a lot of the attempts just look bad both color and style wise.

Due to the limited layers I had to finish rendering out the girl very early and merge her together to free up layer space, and couldn’t keep my lineart layers as separate as I would have liked to allow for quick line color swaps. She ended up being a key point in defining the rest of the color pallet of the piece. The dress shape was indeed inspired by the Lirika Matoshi strawberry dress, but with my own twist.  

Once I got a more solid color pallet down the rest started to come a lot easier and I was able to begin filling stuff in and doing general color adjustments to make the backgrounds darker and give it more depth. I don’t have any more process shots beyond the initial color pallet exploration unfortunately, but the last hurdle I hit was at the very end once I was doing final touch ups. I found that with the only light source/ lighter color being the falling star that it washed out a lot of the rest of the pieces and made the details I spend so much time on feel unnoticed. I found though that adding the bright orange stardust specks into the trees, the girls hair, and falling from the star itself gave the last bit of color I think it needed without completely destroying the atmosphere. Originally (you may see it in some of the process shots) there were going to be jars with stars already in them illuminating the bottom of the piece, but after multiple trial and error iterations it just didn’t work out and ended up taking the focal point away from the girl and the star too much so I scrapped it.

Finally once I got everything done I made a copy of the entire art file to save as a backup, then with one of the copies merged all the layers together. Once all merged I made a copy of the fully merged layer, and went and adjusted the entire layer copy using a Gaussian Blur, reduced the opacity of the blurred layer to a super low percent, and put it on top of the original merged layer. This gave it that ethereal sort of feel that is difficult to notice unless you zoom in but really helps soften the piece and make it more dreamlike overall. Then I merged that blur layer down, and turned on about a 3% noise layer on it all to give it a bit of texture.

But that’s enough rambling from me, hope this helps give a bit of background to my process and decision making and it wasn’t just a wall of random musings. 

My last piece of advice is if you’re looking to do art professionally, do commissions, or make a lot of pieces in a short period of time I would highly advise against directly copying techniques I use. Because while I’m always working to improve I do only do this as a hobby rn so I have the luxury of being able to invest a lot of time, energy, and details into higher complexity pieces that would take way too long in a professional environment. I can put a lot of time into making a single piece exactly as I want it since I’m not reliant on art as my sole income. As I improve I can make things faster, but it’s still an overall slow process and I just end up moving my quality standards up with any level of improvement anyway. Use stuff I do as inspiration but I cannot stress enough to learn as many shortcuts as possible (I’m still struggling with this myself).

If y’all have any questions about bits feel free to dm, if I do something like this again I’ll try to get better screenshots during the process n try to be less verbose.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty-nine: new kid

Sam, Aurora, and Zelda stayed in San Francisco until early Sunday morning, and even though the latter had had a room with Zetro, she stayed the night with the two of them especially since they were all headed back to the Northeast together; and meanwhile, Lars vowed to take care of them for the rest of the weekend. His fridge was full of food and his tiny house was warm and dry from the dense, cold San Francisco fog bank. Some time in between then, on that Saturday afternoon, Lars took out a faded photograph from his bottom clothing drawer and he showed it off to Sam. A young couple with a young child in between them: the man had a thick lush beard that extended down to his chest while the woman wore a light lacy shawl about her shoulders.

“It's me and my parents,” Lars told her in a low voice.

“Aw, so adorable,” Sam remarked as she cradled it in her hands. She eyed Lars nestled in between them: his apple cheeks were large and round and his bright eyes gazed back at her. “How old were you here?”

“I was—seven, I think? Seven or eight?”

“Your hair looks so soft and smooth,” Aurora added as she peered over Sam's shoulder.

“It still kind of is, too,” Lars pointed out with a stroke across the crown of his head with his palm. “Speaking of which, I feel like a shower right about now, my ladies.”

“You wanna look good for us before we leave, right?” Zelda joked from the hallway. She appeared in the doorway and rested her hands on either side of the door frame.

“That's for me to know and for you to figure out,” he retorted with a wag of his finger. Sam peered down at the photograph and she wished for her journal right then, or at least a singular sheet of paper and her black ink pens with her at that moment. She could do it right there for him.

“When I see you again after we leave here, I'll try to remember to bring it back for you,” she vowed to him.

“Oh, no, it's alright,” he told her as he put his hands on the bottom hem of his shirt. “My dad actually has the original one back at his place down in Los Angeles. That one's just a copy I got and asked the photo people to make it black and white just 'cause it looks nicer to me.”

“Right, right...” Without another word, Lars stripped off his shirt and Zelda whistled at his slightly round little body.

“Avert your eyes, girls,” he commanded with a wave of his left hand. He ran his fingers through his smooth light brown hair and he let it drift down over his shoulders and the upper part of his chest. Sam skirted past him towards Zelda and the doorway, and Aurora followed suit. The three girls filed out to the hallway and, once Lars shut the door behind them, they headed into the den to wait for him.

Once Zelda sank down on the left side of the couch, and Aurora took her seat in the spindly chair next to the table right outside of the kitchen, Sam couldn't help but laugh as she looked on at the photograph in her hands.

“What?” Aurora asked her, but she never answered with anything other than another soft snicker.

“What is it?” Zelda joined in as she drummed her fingers on the arm of the couch.

“These people and their desire for me to draw their families,” she chuckled.

“Or just them as kids,” Zelda chimed in.

“It's because art makes one youthful and timeless,” Aurora explained.

“It's also indicative of a kid's behavior, too,” Sam added, “you know how when you're in elementary school, it seems so easy to make art and make a lot of it, too?”

“Absolutely,” Aurora said with a nod of her head. She then turned to Zelda with a stern look upon her face. “By the way, I'm taking what you told me about the label into account and I'll be chatting with Jon about it once we get back to New York tomorrow. Well, not tomorrow—Monday. But, you get the idea.”

“Okay, thank you so much,” Zelda said to her as she clasped her hands together.

“You're quite the manager, Aurora,” Sam told her. “I did work side by side with you over the summer.”

“Imagine if she's manager for the Cherry Suicides,” Zelda suggested.

“It'd be quite the promotion,” Aurora pointed out. “I could be manager for you girls and Sam could one for Stormtroopers.”

“Although I don't know how hard it's gonna be to listen to any harder music, though,” Sam confessed with a shrug of her shoulders. Both Zelda and Aurora showed her soft looks of comfort. It was in fact the truth: Cliff's absence made everything feel different, especially with the thought of that music scene firmly in mind and all around them.

“Speaking of Stormtroopers,” Sam started again, “what's the story on them? They kinda just stopped, didn't they?”

“I was talking to Scott yesterday about that,” she said, “and I guess that's—not too far from the truth. It's like an outlet for him and Charlie.”

The sound of water running in the wall filled in the brief silence and Zelda snickered at the sound of it.

“What's so funny?” Aurora asked her.

“Just thinkin' about Lars in that shower,” she confessed.

“You and drummers, I swear, Zelda,” Sam joked as she set her free hand on her hip. Anything to help her with the

“'Cause I be a drummer, too, y'know,” Zelda retorted with a little gyration of her head and a pattering of her feet on the hard wooden floor beneath them.

“You can be a drummer and like other musicians after all—like you and Zetro!”

“He's got a girl, though. Besides, I can't do that to my dear Lewis, either.”

“Louie Louie,” Aurora followed up.

“Louie Louie, yeah!” Zelda then lay her head on the top of the cushion and she tilted her head up so she could look at Sam upside down. “But what comes after Cliff now?”

“Just taking care of myself, I guess?” she said with another shrug of her shoulders. “Keep making art and being friends to these boys because they need us now.”

“They do need us.” Aurora drummed her fingers on the table top before her. Silence settled over them again. Silence save for the water that ran through the pipes in the wall.

But then the doorbell rang.

“I'll get it,” Zelda quipped and she ducked passed Sam there at the side of the couch. She turned to Aurora there at the table.

“Are you hungry? Especially since we haven't really eaten anything all day.”

“Nah, I'm good. I am kinda dying of thirst, though.”

“Okay—”

Sam sauntered into the kitchen for a glass of water and, when she poured it out of the pitcher rested upon the counter, Zelda's voice floated in from the front foyer.

“Aurora?”

“Yes?”

“Alex is here to see you,” she said.

“Me?” Sam stopped right in her tracks, and she faced the doorway. Alex was there again, and yet she had no idea if she wanted to see him again given he was so cold to her the day before. She had no idea if he would still be nonchalant towards her and thus she stood there before the counter with the glass of water in her hand.

“—he's in the shower, though,” Aurora was saying. “So what brings you here?”

“I want you to do something for me,” Alex started in a near whisper; careful not to bring attention to herself, Sam shuffled in closer to the doorway. They were about five feet away from her and yet he spoke in a voice so soft that she stopped at the counter's corner and leaned in closer to the doorway so she could better hear him.

“Go on,” Aurora encouraged him.

“Well, it's actually for the whole band—I'm just the one telling you, though.” He hesitated for a second and Sam wondered how he was feeling.

“Go ahead, Alex. It's okay.”

A soft rustling followed.

“Want me to leave?” Zelda asked them.

“No, no, it's okay—you're a musician, too,” he assured her.

“What is it?” Aurora gently encouraged him.

“Do you have any idea if we have a deal with the label yet?” he asked her in a small voice.

“First off, why are you asking me this?”

“I was asked to do it while you're still here in the Bay Area. Yeah, I was literally asked to do it. Apparently the guys think because I'm smart enough that I can do it.”

“Eric couldn't do it?” Aurora was flabbergasted by that.

“He had to go somewhere. So because I can drive now, I'm here.”

“I haven't heard anything, no.” She paused. “Why? 'Cause you're eighteen now?”

“Yeah. Like—I'm kinda ready to go on tour now. I'm out of school and everything.”

“Right, right. Well—I'm not really the right person to turn to with that, but I'd be more than happy to ask around, though. There is one thing I want to ask you, though, Alex, and that's the band's name. I distinctly recall hearing about a year ago that there's another band elsewhere called Legacy.”

“It's The Legacy, though, if I remember correctly,” Alex told her, “that's as far as I know. I'm kind of the last guy in the pipeline to know these things.”

Sam knitted her eyebrows together at that. If he was so smart and so cool for his young age, then why was that the case? He was in fact that young, she remembered. She was only three years older than him.

“I think Billy said something about that,” Zelda recalled. “I have a vague memory of that—of all of us sitting in that little room together and he said something about that. I forget what he said, though.”

There was another pause.

“Is there someone else here?” Alex asked them.

“Sam's here,” Aurora replied, to which Sam herself closed her eyes. “She's in the kitchen getting me a drink of water. Which, by the way—hey, where's my water?”

Sam sighed through her nose and she headed out of the kitchen with the glass in her hand. Alex, who had taken his seat across from Aurora, had his back to her. He turned his head when she stood in between the two of them and she caught a glimpse over at Zelda, who had returned to the couch. She shook her head at her.

He knew she was there. How did he know she was there?

He gazed up at her with those deep eyes. At least he wasn't wearing the yarmulke that time around.

“How're you doing?” he asked her, still with that cold tone of voice.

“I'm doing alright,” she replied, and she shifted her weight in that spot in between them. He just sat there with pieces of his thick black curls strewn down his shoulders and onto his chest and his hands rested upon his slender thighs in repose, and yet she was unnerved by that grave expression on his face. Young and old at the same time, and that tiny gray pearl over his brow didn't help matters, either.

The water switched off in the wall across from them, and that was her cue.

“Oh, good, Lars is out of the shower!” Sam declared as she felt her face growing warm. “I have to ask him something—”

She handed Aurora the water and she bowed away from there. She scurried past Zelda and down the hall to Lars' bedroom. She pushed open the door and ducked inside.

She let out a long low whistle but she almost jumped out of her skin when Lars emerged from the bathroom behind her.

“Sam, what the fuck you doing in here?” he demanded, and she covered her eyes with one hand once she turned around. “It's okay—I'm just wearing a towel but still! What're you doing in here?”

She lowered her hand; Lars stood in the doorway with the towel wrapped around his thick waist. His hair dripped wet and his chest heaved from the surprise.

“I just needed to get out of there,” she sputtered.

“Why?” he stammered as he padded out of the bathroom to his dresser.

“Alex is here.”

He stopped.

“Alex is here? Really?” His face lit up.

“Yeah, he's—talking to Aurora right now about something.”

And then he froze.

“Wait. Why exactly are you in here?”

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and then fetched up a sigh.

“He's—unnerving,” she confessed in a low voice.

“What do you mean, he's unnerving?” He knitted his eyebrows together.

“He's like—chilly. Like there's something off about him.”

“Oh, that's just how he is,” Lars assured her. “The kid's a work horse having to balance school and being in a serious band for a while now, so it's matured him a lot in such a short amount of time. And as a result, he does seem a little bit arrogant to a lot of people. That's just how it is with Alex. It's nothing to take personally. In fact, if it's any comfort to you at all, he intimidates all of us. He's a young Jewish kid with this ferocious fire in his belly that's totally not what his parents expected and yet he still went with it. And he was taught by Joe Satriani, too. Kirk was a student of him, too, but even he's afraid of Alex.”

“Well, he hasn't been very comforting towards me, whereas most everybody else has been, especially you and Kirk. Actually no—I take that back. You and I were pretty much alone yesterday.”

“Well,” he began again as he turned towards his dresser for a fresh change of clothes, “a lot of it has to do with the fact that you were kind of hidden away when you and Cliff were together. It was a secret he kept away from even the three of us. But now that Cliff is—out of the picture—you can mingle and integrate yourself more with these people. It's alright, though. I had the same problem when I first came to America. Exact same problem. It just helps to—be a little more assertive. I can help with that.”

“What did you do?”

“What did I do?” He took out a clean pair of underwear.

“Yeah. And—you want me to avert my eyes again?”

“Please.” And then she turned away from him. “But I talked. Just talked to people. Just introduced myself to people, shook their hand and bonded right there. That was how I did it, I don't know about you, though.”

“Hmm...”

“I mean—I hate to do this to you, but your name is Sam. You can turn around now”.

“Right,” she stated as she did. “And what about it?”

“It's a man's name. You have a man's name. You have an androgynous name.”

“And?” She shook her head at that.

“When you have a man's name, you ought to go forth like a man. Be a lady but also be a man. That's the best advice I can give—is to act. Act like how men act, but I do not mean that in a literal sense. Take Alex's cool collected demeanor. You don't have to be as cool as a cucumber like him, but it does in fact help, though.”

He slipped on a clean pair of blue jeans, left leg first followed by his right.

“I mean, the fact you were able to move to a different coast and set up a homestead there tells me that there is a bit inside of there. You just need to—” He zipped up. “—tap into it more and tap into it more often to boot.”

“Be like Zelda,” she said.

“Zelda is a good one to draw from,” he noted as he slipped on a black Deep Purple shirt over his head. “I think her being a trommer helps, too. Very visceral and just—something about sweating brings something out primeval in a person.” He lifted his dripping hair out from under his shirt and then he reached for his towel again to better dry it off. He doubled back to the bathroom to hang it up on the rung, and then he returned to her with a twinkle in his eye.

“Come,” he beckoned her, and then he stopped. “Actually, no. You should be the one telling me to come.”

“Okay, come then,” she said with a straight face and a gesture of two fingers, which brought a giggle out of him: she noticed the little indentation over his left eye, about the size and shape of a pea, something she never noticed before then.

“What's this right here?” She fingered the spot over her own left eye.

“Oh, my scar? James gave me that about three years ago. You really honest to god don't want to know how he gave it to me.”

She then gestured for him to follow her back out to the hallway. If she was to be more forth going, then it began with comfortably standing next to Alex. Lars followed her into the front room, where Alex himself and Aurora stayed at the table, but he had picked up the photograph Lars had given Sam as a reference. He showed it to him once they came back into the room.

“Is this your parents, Lars?” he asked; his voice seemed a lot bigger and louder to Sam now that they were in close quarters rather than out in the open.

“Yeah.”

Alex turned it back around for a second look. “Kinda thought it was my parents at first. And I was thinking, 'my brother probably took this.'” That brought a laugh out of Aurora, but Sam and Zelda stayed silent: the former stood next to the couch with her hand on the top, right behind Zelda's head.

“We are both Jewish after all,” Lars pointed out.

“More so me, though. I dunno if you ever had your own parents refer to you as 'meshuggah' for wanting to go into music before and for the music you play, but that's the case with me.”

“A couple o' Jew boys,” Zelda joked.

“A couple o' Jew boys, exactly!” Lars laughed, but Alex continued to look on at the photograph, still with a collected look on his face. There was in fact something intimidating about him as Sam watched those deep eyes scan over the photograph as if he was reading over something important rather than a family portrait. There was a young boy in there still, but he had been locked away behind those deep penetrating eyes and that sliver of gray.

The three girls and Lars spent the night together, and then he drove them back to the airport bright and early that next morning. He threw his arms around all three of them before he let them climb aboard.

“I already told Zetro I was leaving early,” Zelda assured him as she picked up her suitcase. “And he gave me the biggest frickin' kiss before I said goodbye.”

“Aw!” Lars laughed at that. “Alright, safe travels, ladies! And Sam?”

She whirled around for one last look at him, and his expression switched to one of seriousness.

“If you need anything at all, just call me,” he told her, to which she nodded.

“Yet another person to tell me that.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Neither of us have much but we do have each other, though.” He then blew her a kiss and the three of them padded down the gate to their seats.

“Charlie and Marla already go home?” Zelda asked them in a low voice given it was still pitch dark outside of the window.

“Don't know,” Sam confessed. “Lars didn't say anything about them all weekend...” Her voice trailed off for a moment and then she remembered what she had said to Lars before they stepped into the plane. “By the way, Zetro kissed you?”

“I was thinking the same thing!” Aurora chimed in.

“Yeah. Just a little peck on the cheek, but yeah—he kissed me.” She halted right in her tracks. “Louie and I are just roommates,” she assured them. “I'm just paying his rent.”

“You sure about that?” Sam asked her as the image of them together at that market popped into her mind. Zelda let out an exasperated sigh.

“Okay, fine. Louie and I are in fact a couple, and we've been a couple for a long time, but—I don't think it's gonna last.”

“Why?” Sam was taken aback by that.

“Because of Legacy. They're a West Coast band and I'm a Rhode Island girl. It's been hard on him to be in the Northeast but he does it anyway because—” She pursed her lips together.

“He loves you,” Aurora stated in a soft voice, to which Zelda nodded.

“Yeah. He does. It's hard on both of us but we manage and we've managed for this long, too—we were together when Alex joined. We met at a Plasmatics show, believe it or not, and then he told me he had just joined a band and he was a drummer. And—” She then fetched up a sigh. “—I feel us slipping apart. We live together and we've lived together for almost two years now, and I feel us slipping. So I started talking to Zetro more because he treats me better.”

“That explains why you guys weren't really communicative with each other the other day at the ceremony,” Sam recalled.

“Yeah, and that's why I'm also flying home with you, too.”

Aurora gasped at that.

“Aw, I'm so sorry.”

“He'll be back at some point, though,” Zelda assured her. “He needs to fly back to Providence to fetch his things, so he needs to be back just to sign a thing saying that he doesn't live with me anymore. Or maybe I can send 'em back for him, I dunno yet...” Her voice trailed off and the three of them fastened their seat belts.

“I am gonna say this, though,” she piped again, that time with a serious look on her face and one pointed at Aurora. “The new Cherry Suicides album is going to be one worth looking at.”

“Will do,” Aurora vowed, and they took off from the blackness of the Bay Area and made the flight back to New York. Zelda picked up her car and Sam and Aurora drove back to the latter's apartment; meanwhile, Sam herself took the subway home.

“Are you gonna be alright?” Aurora asked her as she gave her one last embrace.

“Oh, yeah,” she assured her. “I have people to talk to now.”

Sam returned home and then she walked into school the next day and the next couple of weeks with a fresh feeling over her head. She continued to wear that hat but that time, she kept it on her head as she headed back home. Cliff was always with her even when he wasn't. She kept the hat next to her on the table as she ran her paint brush over the heavy grained water color paper and worked on the current painting of a cluster of red and yellow tulips.

Yellow to honor him, red to keep his spirit going even in his wake. The green of the leaves and the background meant he was part of the earth yet again.

It took her a week given the washes on the petals kept on washing out upon drying out, but she managed to make the darkest shade of red on the biggest tulip at the front with a pure bit of paint rather than from her palette. She handed it in that Friday before she walked up the block to visit Aurora on her break.

The autumnal rains were upon New York City once again as she held onto the hat by the crown. At a quick clip, she strode up the sidewalk to that vast white building on the left side of the street. The front door hung a little ajar, and she saw that the front room was completely vacant.

“Hello?” she called out, and Aurora surfaced from the far end of the hallway in front of her, complete with the deep purple sweater wrapped around her body.

“Hey! You came just in time!”

“For what?” Sam shut the door behind her and made her way down the hall.

“Two things,” said Aurora with a twinkle in her eye, “the first is we're moving.”

“You're moving?!” She was stunned by that, but Aurora burst out laughing at that.

“No, not me! Anthrax found a better place to jam and record at—a few blocks from here. The second is—meet Metallica's new bassist.”

She moved to the side and the tall, long haired boy stepped forward. He had a smooth, slightly square face, a prominent nose and brow, and yet his face lit up when he saw her. His long smooth mousy hair drifted behind him, much like Joey's hair, and he wore a short black coat that looked to be from a nearby thrift shop.

“Already?” Sam muttered aloud.

“Already,” he said in a soft voice, and he showed her a little grin as a result. “My name is Jason. Jason Newsted.”

“Hi, Jason Newsted,” she replied as she took off her hat for him and he nodded his head at her. “Awful quick.”

“I know, right? It was all kind of a whirlwind but I got into it.” He gave his hair a slight toss back and she noticed a bare spot on the right side of his head, right underneath the longest part of his hair, as if he had a cowlick there.

“He followed Metallica around for weeks on end this past tour,” Aurora told her.

“Yeah, I did! I was with another band called Flotsam and Jetsam, and when we didn't play, I studied Cliff's parts down to a T, like I took copious notes and tried it out myself. So when I tried out for the audition, Lars and James looked each other like, 'uhh, yeah? We need this guy with us!'”

“Well—I wish you best of luck,” Sam said to him in a soft voice and she held the hat close to her chest.

“Aurora told me about you and Cliff and—I just wanted to meet you first before we leave for Europe soon. He was an inspiration to me. You were a lucky girl.”

“And you're a lucky man,” she said, still in a soft voice.

“I have to make a couple of phone calls,” Aurora told them both.

“I do, too,” Jason added.

“And I have class in a few minutes,” Sam said as she put the hat back onto her head.

“Stay in school,” he advised her, “and I love that hat on you!”

“Cliff did, too,” she told him as she adjusted the brim. The three of them headed out of there and back to the burgeoning rain. Sam peered over her shoulder at Aurora and Jason as they headed up the sidewalk, the other way. No one could replace Cliff, but she had a good feeling about him. She had a good feeling that Metallica were in good hands with the new kid.

[justcallmefox89]

The Demon Prince’s Wedding Part 1 - Truth or Dare Series

It’s been four months since Diavolo’s proposal to Mammon and Arianthi, and their wedding ceremony is only a few days away.  The trio has been trying to keep their bond strong even though resentment is brewing between Diavolo and Arianthi.  Mammon tries to hold the relationship together, but is fearful he’ll have to eventually choose between his first love and his new love.  Arianthi is keeping a secret from her fiances.

This story is told from the perspective of my female OC Arianthi.

I sit in an armchair in Diavolo’s study, my legs curled beneath me, restlessly tapping my pen against the notebook I’m holding.  I stare listlessly into the fireplace, the dancing flames captivating me and drawing my attention away from the list I’ve been perusing.  

We are making a huge mistake.

“Arianthi........beloved?”  Diavolo’s low voice eventually draws me out of my reverie.   

“Mmmm?  What’s up Dia?”

I glance over to where he sits bent over his desk, muddling though his nightly paperwork.  He’s stripped off his red jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled his shirtsleeves up on his forearms.  His auburn hair is disheveled, a sure sign he’s become frustrated at some point and run his fingers through it in irritation.  

He’s beautiful. 

“Could you light the candles for me?”  Diavolo asks absentmindedly, not looking up from the forms he’s signing.  

I look around the study in surprise.  I’d been so lost in my own thoughts I hadn’t even noticed that the room had grown dark.  I give a lazy flick of my wrist and tiny flames burst forth from my fingertips, lighting the dozens of candles strategically placed in the study, and bathing the room in a soft golden glow. 

“You’ve gotten very good at that.”

I adjust in my chair to look at Diavolo; he’s gazing at me with a proud smile, his eyes soft and adoring.

“Lucifer’s been helping me train,” I tell him.

Diavolo’s mouth quirks to the side, the barest flicker of annoyance at the mention of his second in command.  Several months into our relationship and there are still some bitter personal feelings between himself and our fiance’s eldest brother.  

“I saw that,” I murmur, turning my attention back to my list.

Extra food for Beel?  Yes.  Levi’s fitting for his ceremony outfit?  Scheduled for tomorrow.

Diavolo gives a rather undignified snort.  “Saw what?”

“That look you get when ever someone mentions Lucifer outside of work.”

“I do not have a look,” he grumbles, shuffling through the papers on his desk.

“Whatever you say my love.”  I don’t bother to glance up from my notebook.

Ceremony ribbons?  Yes.  Extra extra food for Beel?  Double check.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen my father this evening, have you princess?”  Diavolo asks hesitantly.

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes and almost give myself an aneurysm.  

Fucking Arawn.  

“I have not.  Do you want me to find him and see if he wants to join you for a late supper?”

Diavolo shakes his head.  “I was just curious.  I wonder where he’s got off to.”

“Sleeping with one of the servants?  Sabotaging the caterers?  Eating small children?  Torturing one of the Little Ds?  Planning yet another way to break up our relationship?  Maybe slashing up my wedding dress for funsies?”  I toss out several helpful suggestions.

“Princess........”  Diavolo sounds exhausted.  

“Diavolo.”  I arch an eyebrow at him.

“I’m doing my best here Arianthi.”  Diavolo visibly tenses behind his desk.

A sound of annoyance breaks low in my throat and I turn my attention back to my list.

My rings for the boys?  Locked in the safe at the House of Lamentation.  

“Princess.”  Diavolo’s tone is soft and cajoling.  

I set my notebook on the arm of my chair with a deep sigh and raise my eyes to look at him.  

“The man is a menace Dia.  I’m tired of him trying to ruin our relationship and seducing the staff.  And he absolutely terrorizes the Little Ds.  They're scared half to death of him.”  

“Five more days my love.  Five more days, and once we’re married the transfer of power will be completed and I will be king.  Once he has nothing left here to entertain him my father will leave.  I promise you.”

I sigh deeply.  “Fine.  But if I find him having sex with another servant I’m setting them both on fire.”  

I pause, thinking back to a day last month.

“I’ll never look at the dining room table the same way ever again,”  I shiver in revulsion.

Diavolo pushes his chair back from his desk and holds his arms open.  “Come to me.  That’s an order from you future king.”

I roll my eyes and huff out a low laugh, crossing the room to settle into his lap.  Diavolo gathers me in his arms and holds me tightly to his chest.  When he finally speaks I can feel the vibrations of his deep voice.

“I love you.  So very, very much.”

I raise my head and press a soft kiss to his jaw.  “You better,” I murmur.  “Devildom knows you’re a proper handful to deal with.”

He gives a low chuckle, the sound reverberating deep in his chest.  I snuggle deeper into his embrace and nuzzle my face into his neck.

“You’re cuddly tonight,” Diavolo whispers, idly playing with my hair.

“I’ve missed you.”  

Diavolo frowns.  “I’ve been right here princess.”

I frown, toying with the buttons on his shirt.  “Not really.  I’ve been busy with the last minute details of the wedding, you’ve been working at R.A.D. and with the court, and Mammon’s been working on his new photo campaign with Majolish.......”

“I’m so proud of him.”  Diavolo beams.

“I am too,” I answer, returning his smile.  “I miss you both though.  We haven’t all slept in our bed together in weeks.  Or even been able to eat a meal at the same time.”

His arms tighten around me and he brushes his lips against my forehead in a gentle kiss.  “Mammon should be home soon.  Why don’t you go on and start getting ready for bed?  Give me another thirty minutes to finish this paperwork and I’ll come up.  We’ll all spend tonight together princess.  Promise.”

“I have a proposal concerning our activities for the evening,” I murmur, running my hands through his hair and bringing his face down to mine.

“Mmmm.  Tell me more my queen.”  He takes my lower lip between his teeth and gives it a gentle tug.

“I’d rather show you.”  

He raises his eyebrows, smirking at me, before claiming my mouth in a soft kiss.  I sigh into the kiss, reveling in the plush satin of his lips.  Diavolo nips at my lower lip, teasing my tongue with his.  The kiss quickly turns heated and he works his hands under my shirt, stroking his fingertips along my rib cage. 

Someone loudly clears their throat behind us and we break apart, startled.  

“Hello Diavolo, Arianthi.”

Arawn stands in the doorway of the study, three lower ranking members of the demon court standing next to him.

I bury my face into Diavolo’s chest and groan.

What now?

“Can I help you father?”

Arawn gestures to the other three demons.  “There are a few matters we would like to discuss with you before the ascension ceremony.”

“Of course.  Just speak to Barbatos to sche -”

“Tonight.”

I stiffen in Diavolo’s arms.  “Dia,” I whisper.

He looks down at me and gives me a sad smile before kissing my forehead.  “I’m sorry my love.”

I push myself out of his lap.  “You promised.”

“Princess........”  He reaches out and grasps at my fingertips.

“Goodnight Diavolo.”  I know saying anything else is useless; I’ll be asleep long before he comes to bed.

“Goodnight Arianthi.”  Arawn gives me a charming smile as I brush past him to exit the study.

“Piss off old man.”

I hear a shocked gasp from one of the courtiers but I keep walking, making my way to our bedroom.

Arawn is lounging against our bedroom door when I get there.

I close my eyes and count to ten, willing myself not to set his hair on fire,

“Have I told you how much I hate you do this?”  I ask, leaning against the banister opposite our door.

“Several times.”  He gives me a charismatic grin, a carbon copy of Diavolo’s.  “Warding the room against me was a cute move.”

“I hope it hurt,” I answer, looking pointedly at a singe mark on the sleeve of his shirt.

The only reason we had to ward the bedroom was because you showed up naked in our bed trying to get me to sleep with you.

I shudder at the memory.

His eyes widen in mock surprise.  “You’re so mean Arianthi......we’re going to be family soon.  We should act like it.”

I sigh heavily and pinch the bridge of my nose.  “I’m not in the mood for this tonight Arawn.  What do you want?”

He shrugs nonchalantly.  “Just looking for Mammon.”

“He’s working.  He told me about you trying to bribe him into leaving Diavolo the last time you talked to him.”  I give him a dirty look.

Arawn pouts at me.  “You’re not really upset about that are you?  Besides, he didn’t take the Grimm.”

Five more days, five more days, five more days.

“The fact that you sound disappointed about that is almost as aggravating as you trying to bribe him in the first place,” I mutter.  “Don’t you have anything better to do than trying to destroy your son’s relationship?”

Arawn looks up at the ceiling, pretending to think, then gives me an impish smirk.  “Not really.”

I roll my eyes and shoulder past him to remove the ward and enter our bedroom.  I reach out to turn the doorknob and he grabs my wrist, catching it in an iron grip.   I suck in a deep breath and grit my teeth as the small bones of my wrist are crushed beneath his fingers. 

“You should remember who your king is little demon,” he whispers menacingly into my ear.  

“Diavolo is my king,” I hiss, glaring at him.

He yanks me closer to him, studying me carefully.  “I would think long and hard about how you speak to me young one.  Especially since you don’t have just yourself to think about anymore.”

My eyes widen in shock.  “How -”

“I’m not as oblivious as my son or that dimwitted fallen angel you both insist on bedding.  I wonder what it says about your relationship that neither of them have figured it out yet.  After all, it only took me a few moments.”   

 Arawn releases me, giving casual shrug.  “It was nice talking to you little demon, but I think I should rejoin the group in the study.  Tell Mammon I was looking for him, will you?”

He tosses me a backwards wave as he walks away.  I take a shaky breath before slipping into our bedroom.  

Five more days.

The bedroom feels too big without Mammon and Diavolo in it, and I scowl at the huge bed in frustration.  I send a small fireball floating through the air to light the fireplace and wander aimlessly around the room.  I run my fingers over the spines of the books sitting on the bookshelf before selecting one and tossing it into an armchair. 

I walk to the bathroom, shedding my clothes and leaving them haphazardly on the floor as I go.  I stand under the warm stream of water, moodily contemplating my upcoming nuptials and twisting my engagement ring on my finger.

Even if I decide not to go through with the wedding they’ll find out eventually.  And once they do I highly doubt they’ll ever willingly let me leave the Devildom.  

I shake myself and try to push worst case scenarios out of my mind.

Dia and Mammon would never force me to do anything I don’t want to, no matter what the circumstances are.  I know them better than that.  Right?

I turn off the water and towel off, feeling worse than I did before I showered.  I grab Diavolo’s robe and slip it on, the silk cool and smooth against my skin.  The hem of the robe hangs almost to my ankles and it smells like Diavolo.  Tears prick my eyes as longing washes over me.  For the first time since I’ve come to the Devildom I feel utterly alone.

I snag one off Mammon’s pillows from the bed and sink into an armchair, cuddling it close to my stomach.  I pick up my book and crack the cover, trying to lose myself in fantasy world of The Seven Lords.

Some time later I’m awakened by someone shaking my shoulder and a voice saying, “Oi!  Ya better not be drooling on my pillow!”

I grunt and cling tighter to the pillow, refusing to open my eyes.  

“Fine.  Be that way ya grouch.” 

Strong arms lift me from the armchair and carry me across the room to lay me gently onto the bed.  Mammon settles in bedside me and pulls the covers up around us before wrapping his arms around me and holding me close.  I grumble and try to burrow deeper into the mattress.

He presses a kiss to the back of my neck.  “Come on baby, tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Diavolo promised he would spend tonight with us and then Arawn showed up and sucked him into another meeting,” I mumble into the pillow.  “Dia didn’t even try to tell him no.”

Mammon hugs me.  “I miss him too baby.”

I roll over to face him.  “Mammon......do you think we’re making a mistake?”

He frowns in confusion.  “What do you mean?”

I hesitate for a moment, scared of how he’ll react.  “Marrying Dia.  Are we making a mistake?”

“Seriously?”  Mammon scowls and releases me from his hold.  

I roll back over and curl in on myself in an attempt to avoid his scathing gaze.

Mammon heaves a deep sigh and gently turns me back to face him.  “I’m sorry baby, I shouldn’tve snapped at ya.  Talk to me.  What’s got ya thinkin’ like this?”

“He’s already so busy.....and it’s only going to get worse once he’s king.  The court is virtually useless and they’re going to depend on Dia to handle everything.  Do you think he’ll make time for us?  Or will it always just be us two with him making the occasional appearance?”

I sigh and close my eyes.  

“You’ve heard the rumors floating around the Devildom.  To them we’re just his thief and his whore.  Barely anyone supports this marriage.”

“You’ve always known he was gonna be king someday.”  Mammon looks at me sadly, blue eyes filled with something that looks very much like disappointment.  “Do you still love him?  Still love us?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then trust Diavolo.  Trust me.  We both love ya more than anything and I know he’ll do everything he can to be a good husband to us.  And even when he’s busy we’ll always have each other.”

“I do trust you.  I trust both of you.  I’ve just been thinking.....”

“About what?”  Mammon cuddles me close to his chest.

“Just about how different life is here in the Devildom.   I never imagined my life would be like this,” I admit.

“What did ya imagine?”

I shrug.  “I don’t know.  I just, I had my own life before this you know?  Separate from you guys.  Before he brought me down here.  I had my friends and I was gonna start a new job and I had -”  I cut myself off, biting down hard on my lip before I say too much.

Mammon looks at me strangely and his blue eyes flicker away from me momentarily before resting on me once again.  “I’ve never asked ya this before but..........you had someone up there didn’t ya?”

I nod slowly, not trusting my voice.

“Tell me about ‘em baby.”  Even though his voice is soft this is a command, not a question.

“Their name was Ryan.  We’d only been together for a few months.  They were ten years older than me and ready to commit, ready for something serious.  We talked about moving in together after my lease on my apartment was up.”

I brush some hair out of my face and smile a little as I remember.  “They were sarcastic, gorgeous, driven....................one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.  Everything was just so easy with them.”

“Did ya love ‘em?”  Mammon asks, his voice rough and hoarse.

“It was going in that direction, yeah.”

His eyes narrow.  “Then why didn’t ya go back to them after your year was up?”

“Are you serious Mammon?  A year is a long damn time for a human.  My job wasn’t just going to welcome me back with open arms.  Ryan and I weren’t going to just pick up where we left off; not after a year of me being missing and not having any contact with anyone.”  I glare at him, angry and defiant.

He shrinks back from me a little.

“And I fell in love with you.  Both of you.”

“So what’s the problem?”

You dense motherfucker.

I just shake my head and roll my eyes.  “Really?  Are you being serious right now?”

Mammon glares at me.  “What?  Would ya go back right now if could?  Choose them over us?”

I start at him for one long moment before shaking my head.  “No.  I wouldn’t.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The point is I should have had a choice Mammon.  When he brought me down here Diavolo took away a year of my life; he took away my opportunities and my relationship.  Everything I’d worked so hard for in the human realm didn’t matter anymore.  I had to start all over; without my friends, without my partner.......he brought me here with nothing.  And when the year was over I couldn’t get any of it back.” 

I rapidly blink away tears of frustration.

“I love you both so, so much.  But I gave up everything to stay here; I gave up my humanity to stay with you both.   And yeah, maybe I’m angry about that.  Maybe I’m starting to resent Dia for bringing me here.  I’ve given him everything Mammon.  Everything.  And he can’t even keep a simple promise to spend one night with us?  After us being apart for how many weeks?”  

The words are tumbling out now, faster and faster, and I can't stop them.  Mammon is staring at me, shock and outrage warring across his face.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that Mammon!  What have you ever had to give up to be with us?  You were more than happy to move into the Demon Lord’s castle.  More than happy to accept all the perks of being with Dia.”  

I probably could have stabbed him and hurt him less but I can’t stop, letting out every fear and frustration I’ve felt for the past year and a half.

“Is it always going to be like this?  Am I always going to be the one giving things up?  Settling for scraps of his time?  Aren’t you mad about him never being around?  Or the way he never stands up to Arawn?  How long is this going to go on?  What happens when the-”  I clap my hands over my mouth before I finish the sentence.

“When the what princess?”

I close my eyes tight and grit my teeth in an attempt to block out Diavolo’s question and the anguished tone of his voice.  

“Arianthi........ do you really feel like I took everything from you?”

I refuse to turn around, locking my eyes on some distant point over Mammon’s shoulder. 

“Diavolo she didn’t mean it.”  Mammon’s eyes dart worriedly between me and Diavolo, and he’s starting to look panicked.  

“I meant it.  I meant all of it.”  I climb out of bed, facing Diavolo.  My stomach clenches at the sight of his ashen face, but I tamp the guilt down and anger quickly takes its place.  

“Have you always felt like this?”  Diavolo asks softly.

“Maybe, in the back of my mind.  It was always easy to ignore because I was so damn happy with both of you.  But now all I can think about is our future and what it’s going to look like and.......” I trail off, running my hands through my hair.  “I can’t do this right now Diavolo.”

I start to move past him so I can leave the bedroom, and he reaches out and attempts to touch my shoulder.

“Princess, please.....we can talk-”

“No!”  I unfurl my wings to block his hand and dart out into the hallway, leaving my fiances starting after me in shock.  

I walk the castle halls without a particular destination in mind, finally arriving at the throne room.  I gaze around the room, taking in the ornate decor.  The room feels oppressive, and it’s hard to imagine that Mammon and I will ever have a place here.

I wander the perimeter of the room, toppling standing candelabras and knocking portraits from the walls with languid flicks of my tail.  When  reach Arawn’s portrait I hurl it across the room, impaling it on one of the last standing candelabras.  Feeling slightly more empowered after finishing my path of destruction, I ascend the steps of the dais that stands at the front of the room.  I circle the throne, my fingertips dancing over the intricate carvings and gold inlays.  

I eventually sprawl out in the throne and look out over the cavernous room, trying to imagine it full of people looking up at me while I gaze at them from this place of superiority.  

That sounds completely miserable.  No wonder Diavolo was so desperate to be treated like a normal person.  For someone to just see him and not his title.  

I sigh and scrub my hands over my face in equal parts frustration and sadness.  I summon a tiny fireball and lazily roll it over my knuckles a few times before tossing it at the wall where it quickly fizzles out, leaving a sooty scorch mark behind.

Hmm.  Satisfying.

I spend the next several minutes tossing fireballs, peppering the wall and curtains with scorch marks, making random patterns.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

I roll my eyes at the sound of Mammon’s voice and summon another flame.  “If you’re here to get me to go apologize to Dia I’m not interested right now.”

“You should,” Mammon says softly.  “He’s really upset.”

I snort, sending a small orb of grimfire to orbit around Mammon’s head.  “And I’m not?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down.  “What’s done is done.  We’re about to get married.......what’s the point of worrying about it now?.”

I straighten up on the throne, staring at him intently, and for one brief moment the grimfire pulses with a dangerous green light.  Mammon’s eyes meet mine and I sigh; the orb fizzles out with a puff of acrid smoke.

“You always take his side,” I mumble.  “Always.”

“Baby come on.”  Mammon tries to cajole me out of the throne.  “Let’s go to bed and forget about all this.”

I shake my head and close my eyes.  “Just go Mammon.”

“Ari...”

“GO!”

My command echoes throughout the cavernous room, and I eventually hear Mammon’s footsteps recede at he leaves the throne room. 

I shake my head in disgust.

I don’t belong here.  

“Be careful my dear or you’ll shake something loose.”  

I whip my head up and stare directly into a pair of bright green eyes, a mirror of my own.  She looks different from the first time I saw her; her face is free of blue woad markings, and she’s wearing a plain black hoodie and a pair of jeans.

“Morrigan?!”  I’m so shocked I can barely squeak out her name.

She gives me a cocky grin.  “What kind of grandmother would I be if I didn’t show some support for my granddaughter’s marriage?”

“How are you here?”

“I’m ancient, not dead,” she replies dryly.  “Just because I choose not to waste away down here doesn’t mean I don’t occasionally visit.”  

“Morrigan why are you here?  For real.”

Morrigan sighs and pauses a moment before finally answering my question.  “I’m here to make sure you’re not making a mistake.”

“You think I’m making a mistake marrying them?”  I bite my lip anxiously, afraid to hear her answer.

“It’s doesn’t matter what I think, it only matters if you think you are.  And since I’m the only relative you have left I feel an odd sort of responsibility for you.”  She shrugs one shoulder languidly.  “So, do you think you’re making a mistake?”

“Maybe?”

Morrigan doesn’t say anything, just nods encouragingly.

“I had to leave a lot of things behind when Diavolo brought me here.  And I had to give up even more to stay with them,”  I say, trying to sort my thoughts.

“Do you love Mammon and Diavolo?”  Morrigan asks softly.

“More than anything,” I answer.

“But you still feel resentful.  Because you feel like Diavolo took choices away from you.”

I nod.  “Yeah.  That exactly.”

“I think it’s understandable that you feel this way,” Morrigan says slowly.  “Diavolo yanked you out of your life without warning, and even though you’ve made a new life here, it’s natural to mourn your old one.”

I slump back into the throne.  “So what do I do?”

Morrigan moves to stand next to me.  “I can’t tell you that.”  

She pauses, looking deep in thought for a moment before speaking again.  

“I was on a trip to the human world when I met Ayden..........your grandfather.  He was a force of nature, unlike anyone I’d ever met in the three realms.  Stubborn.  Fierce.  A born warrior.  At certain times you remind me of him so much.”  She smiles at me sadly.

“I couldn’t come back here knowing that I would have to leave him behind.  I tried once, but I only lasted a week.  So I went back and stayed in the human realm.  Ayden and I were married and eventually we had a son, Kane.”

She stops speaking, and I see her hands shake almost imperceptibly.    

“I watched my family grow old while I didn’t age.  I buried my husband, my son, my grandchildren.......... and it became too much, so I just faded away.  I couldn’t stay with them, but I couldn’t return to the Devildom either.  So I’ve just been wandering for a centuries, alone.”

“Why are you telling me this?”  I finally whisper.

Morrigan is silent for so long I think she’s not going to answer me.  

“Because even with all of the loss and the pain and the anger, I wouldn’t trade the time I had with my husband and my son for anything in the three realms.”

She turns to face me, staring directly into my eyes.

“And if I was given the gift of being able to have them with me forever.....”  She swallows hard and blinks rapidly.  “I know that you’re angry Arianthi, and you have good reason to be, but if you love those two even half as much as you say you do, don’t let that anger fester and rot your relationship.  Don’t squander the gift Lilith and I gave you when we sent you back here.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“That’s my girl.”

I push myself up from my seat and shift back into my human form before gripping Morrigan in a tight hug.  

“Oh!”  She stiffens in surprise before clinging to me just as tightly.

“Thanks grandma,” I say with a smirk when she finally releases me.

She rolls her eyes good naturedly and gently cuffs the back of my head.  “Like I said, you remind me so much of Ayden.  Now go, to bed with you.  You need your rest, especially now.”  

She quirks an eyebrow at me and gives me a knowing look.

“Seriously?”  I ask, exasperated.  “Can a bitch have no secrets here?”

Morrigan grins.  “Not from the old ones my dear; very little gets by us.  Besides, it’s time to tell them isn’t it?”

I grumble a few choice words under my breath.

She reaches for my hand and squeezes softly.  “I need to go before Arawn figures out I’m here.  Go.  Talk to them.  Trust in yourself that you’ve made the right decisions.”

“Am I going to get to see you again?  Outside of my existential crises and near death moments?”

“I’ll find you when you need me most,” Morrigan assures me, before she opens the doors to the throne room and slips into the hallway.

I wait a few minutes before leaving the throne room, shutting the doors firmly behind me and making a mental note to speak to Barbatos about the mess. 

I’ll take care of it. 

I climb the stairs to our bedroom and give a soft knock before hesitantly entering.  Mammon and Diavolo are in bed; Diavolo’s head cradled on Mammon’s chest while he softly strokes Diavolo’s hair.  They both eye me warily as they sit up.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, unwilling to meet their eyes.  “I should have brought this up along time ago instead of blowing up at both of you like that.”

Diavolo gives me a soft look of concern.  “I need to apologize as well princess.  I didn’t consider the long term effects that the exchange program would have on a non-magical human.  I was so enthusiastic about the program that I didn’t take into account that it would negatively impact your life in a very major way.”

He swallows hard and looks down, restlessly twisting the bed sheet between his large hands.  “If you wish it I can speak to Barbatos and have him find the proper timeline so that he can....send you back.  To before you came here.  You could have your old life back.”

“What?”  Mammon glares at him then worriedly looks at me, waiting for my answer. 

“No.”  I shake my head emphatically.  “No, I don’t want to go back.”

Both demons sag against the pillows in relief.

I start anxiously twisting my engagement ring around my finger.  “There’s something I need to show you both.  It’s why started thinking about my old life and our future in the first place.”

“Ok baby,” Mammon says reassuringly.  “Show us whatever you need to.”

Diavolo nods in agreement.

I dart into the closet and find the pictures I’d hidden in a giant pile of Mammon’s sweaters three weeks earlier.  I walk back to Diavolo and Mammon, pressing a picture into each of their hands.  I sit on the edge of the bed, anxiously waiting for their reactions.  

Diavolo furrows his brow and delicately traces the sharp lines that rise and fall the length of his photo with one calloused fingertip.  Mammon’s face mirrors Diavolo’s confused expression as he studies the glossy black and white picture in front of him.  The carefully study each other’s photos before glancing back at their own.  Mammon is the first one to put the pieces together.

“Baby are you....?”  He looks at me with wide eyes.

Diavolo’s realization comes a few moments later.  “Are we really...?”

I nod, a hesitant smile on my lips.

Diavolo cups Mammon’s face in his hands and gives him a sweet kiss before resting his forehead against Mammon’s.  “We’re going to be dads,” he whispers reverently.

Diavolo leaps out of bed and sweeps me into a hug, spinning me in a circle and laughing.  “You’re going to be a mom!  We’re going to be parents!”

He gathers me in his arms and carries me to bed, gently settling me between Mammon and himself,  immediately placing one hand on my stomach.  Mammon gives me a soft kiss and rests his head on my shoulder, while Diavolo is practically vibrating with excitement next to me.

“We need to make an official announcement.  The entire Devildom needs to know that there is a new heir on the way!  We’ll need Barbatos to plan a celebration ball and there will need to be new royal portraits to add you three-” 

As Diavolo speaks I find myself becoming more and more overwhelmed, his overbearing energy sweeping over me and causing a ball of anxiety to grow deep in the pit of my stomach.  Mammon looks over at me and takes note of my panicked expression.  He reaches over and grabs one of Diavolo’s hands.

“Oi!  Ya need to calm down, you’re freaking out Arianthi!”

Diavolo instantly wraps his arms around me and pulls me close.  “I’m sorry princess.  What’s wrong?  Tell me what I can do to make it better.”

“You could calm down for one,” Mammon says, impatiently raking a hand through his hair.

I nod in agreement.  “I know that there are certain things that need to happen, but this is a lot to take in right now.  And I’d really like to wait to make the announcement until a few weeks after the wedding.”

“Why?  Everyone should know now; this is amazing news!”  Diavolo frowns at me in disappointment.

“This is about more than just you,” Mammon grumbles, giving Diavolo a dirty look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dia, this is going to be a really big change for all of us.  I’d rather not draw more attention than we absolutely have to.  There’s already going to be enough speculation about the baby because of our relationship.”  I look into his eyes, pleading with him to understand.

Diavolo shakes his head.  “I don’t understand.  What’s that supposed to mean?  What’s wrong with our relationship?”

Mammon sighs in exasperation.  “There’s nothin’ wrong with it.  She just means that people are gonna be payin’ a lot of attention and gossipin’ about the baby, because there’s a damn good chance it could come out lookin’ like me.”

“We’ve already talked about this.”  Diavolo’s face darkens and he scowls at Mammon.  “This baby is ours, all of us together, no matter who the biological father is.”

“You really think everybody else out there is gonna see it that way?”

I shrink back into the pillows in an effort to stay out of the way of the two bickering demons.  

I finally hesitantly speak up.  “Does it matter to you guys?  Would you want to know who-”

“No!”  They exclaim in unison.

“Diavolo’s right,” Mammon reassures me.  “It doesn’t matter.  This baby is gonna be all the best parts of all of us no matter what.”

Diavolo hums in agreement.  “I don’t care what the rest of the Devildom has to say about it.  This is my child.  You’ll be my wife and Mammon will be my husband.  We’re a family, and I love all three of you unconditionally.”

He delicately strokes his fingertips over my stomach.  “Hello little one.  I’m your daddy.”

Mammon hesitantly reaches out and places his hand next to Diavolo’s.  

“I’m not hurtin’ ya, am I?”  He looks at me anxiously.

“Not at all,” I answer with a smile.

“That’s your papa,” Diavolo whispers conspiratorially to my stomach.  “He’ll never admit it, but he worries a lot about me and your mommy.  He’s already worrying about you too.  It just means he loves you.  You’ll get used to it.”

“You’ll get used to your daddy talkin’ too much and being bossy too,” Mammon grumbles with a slight smirk.

My eyes start to flutter closed, and I sink back into the pillows while Diavolo and Mammon continue to murmur endearments to their unborn child.

Morrigan was right.  This moment, these three.......... they are worth everything.

[swordmaid]

Plastic Surgery pt2) “So, what exactly can you achieve?” Brienne asked nervously, looking at the photo of herself on Qyburn’s screen. “Well let’s take a look, shall we?” Qyburn suggested. He typed some commands and Brienne saw herself transform. Her draw dropped. There was a narrower, prettier face. Fuller figure. Still quite plain, but with hair and makeup… and it would be worth spending on hair and makeup, with a canvas like that. 1/15

“So?” Qyburn asked, “Shall I have my assistant pencil in an appointment for you?” Brienne shut her open mouth, and shook her head. “Not yet,” she said quickly. “I need some time to think.” 2/15

pt3) The bodice was padded. The dress itself was stunning, a rich sapphire blue, empire waistline. Simple, clean lines. “So,” Jaime asked, almost a hint of nerves in his voice, “What do you think? We can get it altered if it doesn’t fit right. The tailor knows to expect my call, I just, well I wanted it to be a surprise.” “Do you think I should get a boob job?” Brienne asked suddenly. Jaime blinked. “What?” “The bodice is padded,” she said by way of explanation. 3/15

“And you think I was dropping a hint?” Jaime said slowly. Brienne blushed. “Sorry, I was being stupid. It’s a lovely dress.” “Well, if my father is insisting on a welcome home party, the least I can do is make sure you’re dressed for war.” He caught sight of the pensive look on her face. “Brienne, are you seriously thinking of taking up Cersei’s offer?” Brienne bit her lip. “Well, I haven’t definitely decided against it.” “Why?” Jaime asked, genuinely perplexed. 4/15

Brienne laughed. “You ask why? You made it clear enough when we first met.” Jaime flinched. “I was wrong,” he said plainly. “I shouldn’t have said those things. Look, this, I know now that it’s all just pointless. I’ve grown up around people whp spend half their life on a surgeon’s table to match a standard they’ve set themselves. It’s all just made up.” “But what isn’t made up is the way I’ve been treated,” Brienne said bitterly. 5/15

rest under the cut

“I’ve grown up around people who spend half their life on a surgeon’s table to match a standard they’ve set themselves. It’s all just made up.” “Can you really not see why I don’t want to live the rest of my life apologising for daring to exist, with a face like this?” Jaime swallowed. “I’ve seen my sister lose herself trying to measure up,” he said quietly. “Your face, it’s yours and yours alone. No one has one like it. I don’t want to see you become another copy and paste plastic doll.”

“But it is your face and I hear your feelings. I’m sure whatever face you end up with will become as dear to me as this one. I won’t stand in your way. I’ll even bring you flowers in the hospital. There, I said my piece.” 7/15  

pt4) Brienne loathed formal parties. Just the thought of walking amongst this nest of vipers made her stomach crawl. If Qyburn had promised he could fix her up in time for Jaime’s party, she would have shaken on the deal then and there. She had gone to a salon, Jaime’s treat, and spent the day being pampered and preened. She had never been to a salon before and a good deal of the treatments she’d been subjected to; the body scrub, the micro blading, the waxing, felt invasive. 8/15

And to keep up the standards she would have to go through it again and again. At least the surgery she would be drugged. As she made to leave, the beauticians tried to push different products for her to purchase. Masks for her brittle hair, lotion for her dry skin. All of it utterly essentially. Brienne hadn’t been informed of possessing so many faulty parts since the last time she took her car to the garage. 9/15

Walking through the party now, hearing snippets of conversations from the guests, her mind couldn’t help but feel this was all a con. ‘Dr Pycelle said that if I really want to make a difference, I need to go the whole hog and have a face lift.’ ‘Cole suggested it when I went in for my chemical peel. He said it would make the world of a difference’. At least a third of the conversations were about some process or the other. It was practically a lifestyle for some of the guests. 10/15

Plastic Surgery Fic. Would that be her? A part of her had been so convinced that if she fixed her face, she would fix her life. But she wouldn’t be escaping the battle, just entering a new one. One that she couldn’t even fight with her integrity intact. 11/15

Jaime touched her elbow. “You want to dance?” he offered. Brienne shook her head. “Need some air.” Jaime took her arm and escorted her onto the porch, grabbing a glass of water from a passing waiter as he did. They stood in companionable silence, looking at the stars and the dark shadowed garden sprawling out before them. The bushes and the flower beds were pruned and trimmed and manicured to perfection, but Brienne found herself missing the wild woodlands and jagged cliff tops of Tarth. 12/15

“I don’t think I’m going to take Cersei up on her offer,” she said at last. Jaime’s eyes lit up in triumph, but he kept his face neutral. “If that is what you want,” he said evenly. Brienne finished her water. “Do you want to go back inside?” she offered. “Let’s stay out here a bit longer, it’s peaceful.” The chatter of the guests was faint beneath the carrying music. Brienne found she knew this song. An old favourite. 13/14

“Jaime,” she said, “I do think I would like that dance. Just… not in front of those people.” It took Jaime a second to catch on, but once he did, Brienne was in his arms. And her lips may have been too big and her nose too crooked and jaw too large, but in that moment her smile swallowed her face whole, and nothing else seemed to matter. Just for that song. 14/14

[maple-writes]

Dissidia March 2021: Week One

Big thanks to @onmywaytobe for sharing Leo with me for this! I’m really excited to keep writing these two together :D

and thanks @dissidia-writeblr for hosting again!

the intro got kind of long but I was having a good time so it stays like this lol

###

Warren hit send on their email and quietly hoped the recipient would actually read everything this time before asking another question they shouldn’t have to answer again. At least that was the last they needed to respond to for now. They double checked though, just in case they missed anything from an order, an information request, requests for meetings, or sometimes the odd message sent to the completely wrong email address.

They reached for their near-empty travel mug and downed the last of the coffee as they crossed off email replies from the to-do list they’d drawn up first thing in the morning. Today it wasn’t as long as it could be, but would still be more than long enough to keep them busy until the end of the workday. After that… They smiled to themself as they turned back to the computer screen. The woman at the store tipped them off the other day that pears would probably be on sale today. Older style pears hadn’t been on sale in a long time especially since newer hybrids started coming out a few years ago. The new ones were sweeter, softer, and lacked that weird texture if picked too late, but there was something about the older pears. The new ones were almost too sweet, too soft. They still had some wine from last night too that might go well with it after dinner.

The click of short heels echoing down the hall brought Warren back from thinking about fruit and wine a moment before Indigo poked her head into their office. Her opalescent white hair pulled back in a low pony-tail suggested she was here to check up on the labs. When the light hit just right, the hollow, prismatic strands refracted subtle orange, blue, and even hints of green. Right, it was Wednesday, she usually came in on Wednesdays.

When she noticed Warren was in, she stepped in with a polite nod. “Any word from the Norris Lab?”

Warren smiled. “Yes, actually.” They leaned forward, pulling up the documents on their computer. “I spoke with one of their reps today, and honestly,” they sighed, one hand up and massaging the side of their head at the memory of that agonizingly long phone call, “it was like pulling teeth but I convinced her to send over their manuscripts. I’ve also set up a meeting with a member of their team for the twenty-seventh.”

“Well done Warren,” Indigo purred. She rested her hand on their desk and leaned forward as Warren turned the screen to show her the documents. The way her eyes flickered over the words and tables she seemed to know better than them whatever it was this research was about on anything more than an abstract level. “Oh that’s perfect.” She glanced down at them. “Could you send those files to me and print off a copy of each when you get the chance?”

She’d probably want an extra copy too, one for them to file away with the other hard-copy records. Warren nodded and jotted down a note for later. “Can do.” Paper records and files hadn’t been mandated for decades now but Indigo usually insisted on physically backing up important files. “Anything else?”

“Not at the moment.” She straightened up with a smile, a genuine one rather than the ones they’d seen her give at events and meetings with people she had to pretend to like. “Thanks Warren.” She started to turn, but seemed to remember something. “Actually, if you could do me a favor, I need something confidential ordered along with this week’s deliveries. I’ll send you the info by the end of the day.”

Warren made another note, nodding down at their paper pad. “I’ll see what I can do.” This wouldn’t be the first time she’d asked something off the record like this, but with her position she was bound to have some projects that weren’t ready for public attention yet.

She thanked them, left, and Warren turned back to their computer to update their to-do list. They were already planning on taking a trip down the hall for the printer for some labels so adding a couple copies of the manuscripts Indigo wanted probably wouldn’t take too much longer. As much as her insistence on physical backup copies filed away just in case was a bit of a pain sometimes, it was nothing compared to what some of their other coworkers wanted them to do. Some of the ‘great ideas’ some of them came up with were nothing more than a logistical nightmare, and some of the clerical work they had at the end of the week was usually tedious at best.

A couple of documents proofread later, Warren sent the files to the print server and got up with a stretch cracking some of the little joints in their shoulders. On the way out of their office, they plucked their lanyard with their ID and key card with an outdated photo and a little sticker label with they/them stuck to the casing, draping it around their neck as they stepped into the hall. The one time they’d decided to just stick it in their pocket it fell out and they hadn’t noticed until they found themself locked out of the building in the middle of winter, banging on the door until someone heard. Not doing that again.

They stopped at the coffee maker along the way, leaning against the counter as the single-serve pod brewed and trickled into their travel mug. It was old, the mug, paint starting to chip off around the top and bottom, but it was a gift from years ago and it still worked well enough so why replace it?

Taking a sip of their fresh coffee, Warren reached the print room. They raised their key-card to the scanner, pausing as it beeped and the light turned green. Years ago when they’d started here someone had explained why the print room was locked like this, something about some very fancy and expensive kinds of machines that they’d never had any use for in their work. They dropped their card to dangle around their neck again and opened the door.

This was not the print room.

Warren froze, wind toying with their ruby hair and tugging at the lanyard around their neck. Grasses brushed against the cuffs of their pants and white clouds drifted across the open, unimpeded sky. The air carried the fresh scent of plants and unfamiliar toiled soil. An unfamiliar city rose in the distance behind fields filled with crops and farmers and uniformed people patrolling the planted plots.

This was not the print room, not even close. Warren broke the ice holding them ridged to glance back over their shoulder, twisting to try and find the door. But there was nothing. It was gone. Nothing but more fields and more farms and more farmers and more uniformed personnel. Soldiers maybe? But what were they doing here? They frowned. Better question: what was here?

Someone standing nearby looking nearly as lost as Warren caught their eye. Dressed different from the other farmers and soldiers he probably wasn’t from around here. Although, Warren really couldn’t tell where he might have been from either. He had a very old-timey look, plain dark skin and darker hair with eyes to match. Maybe he came from some remote town in the middle of nowhere, but even then… Odd that nowhere in his ancestry there’d been anything altered to pass down. Still though, he was far more familiar than the people working around them in the farms.

Warren turned towards the stranger with a deep breath. “Hey,” they paused a heartbeat as he turned towards them, “uh, do you know what’s going on?”

The dark-hard main just shrugged and muttered something about all of this just being a weird dream.

A dream? Warren scrunched their eyebrows and took a sip of their still nearly too-hot coffee. Strange. They didn’t remember going to sleep. They woke up like usual, had breakfast like usual, got dressed like usual and as far as they knew had been at work for a couple hours already. Were their dreams really that boring? They frowned. If this were a dream then how come they could still taste? At the same time though, it wasn’t like this made any sense either.

Dream or not, this was the only vaguely familiar-looking person anywhere in this field and he looked almost as confused as they did. They turned back towards him. “I’m Warren, by the way.” It was probably only polite to tell him their name.

The mysterious stranger nodded once. “Leo.” He paused, stealing a glance, then added, “nice hair.”

Hair? He liked their hair? “Oh, thanks.” Warren flustered. “I just kind of brushed it this morning and I guess it’s working out for me today.” Okay, stop talking. They cut themselves off with a very long sip of coffee. Leo just said he liked their hair no need to ramble on and on even if nerves prickled all the way up and down their body.

The sun shone down warm on their shoulders, the air fresh with plants. If this really was a dream maybe it wouldn’t be so bad as long as they were actually asleep and not collapsed and dying on the copy room floor. They frowned. No one really went that way unless that had to, and most people in the office dealt exclusively with digital files. Hell, Warren might have been only one of a handful of people who even knew how to use some of the older model machines.

Were they… Dead?

No, no way. They’d been fine all day why would they be dead now? Leo’s idea of a dream sounded much nicer. Warren sighed and squinted against the sun, staring over the sunny fields. This time their eyes settled on one figure walking between the plots in their direction.

They glanced at Leo. “Do you think that guy’s coming for us?”

“Looks like it.”

Warren shifted from side to side on the soft grass and tightly gripped their mug as nerves built. No question now, the new stranger was headed straight for the two of them. Warren tried to look away, at anything else. They didn’t want to look like they’d noticed, didn’t want to draw his attention more than they already had.

But the stranger wasn’t swayed, stopping in front of the both of them with a bow and a smile. “You two must be so confused.” He said. “My name is Sichoris, and I work for one of the leaders of Ritania.”

He gestured to the city towering behind the farms. Ritania? Warren’s head spun. Sure it’d been a long time since they’d looked at a map or a chart or anything, but they’d sure as Hell never heard of Ritania.

Sichoris kept talking. “If you would follow me, I can explain everything along the way.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and started back the way he came. Warren hesitated, but only a moment. Standing around in a field wouldn’t get them anywhere and if Sichoris really did work for some leader maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. As false-faced and draining some of the officials they’d had to interact with every now and then were, it wasn’t like any were usually cruel towards them. At worst a little demanding with no idea how long it actually took them to do the work they wanted but not horrible.

With a deep breath Warren unstuck their legs and followed Sichoris towards the city but paused when Leo didn’t move. He still stood, staring glass-eyed up at the unfamiliar city. Was he just going to stand there? What was he waiting for?

“Hey,” Warren called, catching his attention. “Are you coming?”

Leo glanced between them and Sichoris already paces ahead, then seemed to decide following along would be the best bet. Walking just behind Warren’s shoulder, his eyes wandered, and he reacted strange as if in a dream. Which maybe that made sense, but maybe not. But it wasn’t like they had any kind of better answer up their sleeve.

Some of the farmers looked up as they passed, watching curiously before getting back to their work. Some of the soldiers—they looked like soldiers anyway—did the same. No one looked anything like what they were used to, and they couldn’t help but hunch in on themself just a little. They stood out here, especially the way the sun caught the iridescent structures in their hair, shimmering from red to faint violet and blue where the sun hit just right. As much as they weren’t a farmer either, they couldn’t begin to recognize what exactly grew in the fields, or even why they might have been using so many open air fields like this either.

Warren took another sip of coffee and stole a glance at Leo. So far the only thing they knew were his and Sichoris’ names, and at least Leo seemed to be in the same kind of disbelief as they were. He seemed trustworthy enough. Even if he didn’t seem one for talking, at least they weren’t completely alone.

[jokertrap-ran]

(未定事件簿) 陆景和 SSR [绘恋春风] [Tears of Themis] Lu Jinghe SSR [Love upon a Spring’s Breeze] Card Story Translations (Part 2)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist / Lu Jinghe’s Masterlist is under construction. *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *In which, Ran attempts Chinese…I’m certainly getting faster at this hmm...

Part 1 / Part 2 / Video Call

Lu Jinghe hadn’t been lying; the skill he had shown while drawing his own tattoo had been stunningly impressive.

Lu Jinghe: Think you can trust me now?

MC: Yup, I’m all yours!

Lu Jinghe: Sit over here then. We’ll start immediately.

MC: Okay.

I sat down in front of him, copying his earlier actions by rolling up my sleeve before sticking my arm out.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

He gently took my hand. He observed my hand with a keen eye before taking in a deep breath, lowering his head once more as he started drawing. But this concentration of his was different from before; I could tell that he was handling my arm with utmost care.

Lu Jinghe: The pigment used in this Tattoo is quite special so you might be allergic to it.

Lu Jinghe: Tell me if you feel unwell at any moment in time.

MC: Okay…

Lu Jinghe: ……

Not another peep came from him following that. He was completely focused on drawing my Tattoo.

He skillfully maneuvered the brush, each stroke gentle and weighted. The way he was acting was almost as if he was holding a rare treasure in his hands. Looking at the expression on his face as he furrowed his brow in concentration, I couldn’t help but to relate it to the artists who had painted the Church murals during the Renaissance Period.

Was this how they looked whilst they painted the gods? Not just sincere, but more…affectionately so…?

MC: Lu Jinghe…

Lu Jinghe: …Don’t move, or I might miss a stroke.

MC: …Okay.

I shuddered as some of the stiffer bristles of the brush’s nib brushed against my skin. I couldn’t tell if what I felt was from the nervousness of getting my first Tattoo, or if it was from him, who was clearly acting extra serious and extra gentle in front of me.

All I could feel was scorching heat, burning forth from my heart to my skin, just like a Prairie Fire.

Lu Jinghe: Don’t be so flighty, it’ll be done soon.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

MC: Can I say something?

I decided to find a topic to talk about, in an attempt to alleviate the inexplicable warmness in here.

Lu Jinghe: Go ahead.

MC: You haven’t yet told me just what this Semi-permanent Tattoo is.

Lu Jinghe: This is derived from a Traditional Handicraft; you can think of it as a type of Body Painting.

He lifted his head to glance at me, dragging out the syllabus as he spoke.

Lu Jinghe: But what makes Tattoos different from Body Paint is that it has the essence of emotion within.

MC: …You mean, like how couples tattoo each other’s names on the other as a form of expression of their love?

Lu Jinghe: That’s only one of the many.

Lu Jinghe: The meaning behind a Tattoo doesn’t always have to be how it’s drawn. It is it’s own expressive medium.

Lu Jinghe: The needle that pierces into your skin brings pain, also leaving the imprint of unspeakable feelings in its wake.

Lu Jinghe: All these other feelings that lie behind the Tattoo with accompany you for life, until the fateful end.

MC: How romantic…

Lu Jinghe: But those are all Permanent Tattoos. I’m afraid this one you have here will be completely gone by the time you go back up to Court.

Lu Jinghe: It may have a short life-span, but I hope you’ll always remember it.

MC: Don’t worry, I will.

Lu Jinghe: Good then…

He released his hold on my hand.

Lu Jinghe: It’s done. Take a look for yourself.

MC: This…looks similar to the one on your arm, but not quite?

Lu Jinghe: Yup. Take a closer look at the Lisianthus Flowers you have; what do they look like to you?

MC: …What do they look like?

I was full of questions as I bent down to take a closer look at the artwork on my arm.

Lu Jinghe: Yes, now try turning your wrist.

MC: ……

MC: Oh! I know, it’s “α”!

I turned my wrist just like he directed, the huge Lisianthus Flower following. I found something resembling a “α” between the leaves below the Flower when I turned my wrist side-to-side.

Lu Jinghe: That’s right, and the one on my hand…

He flashed his own Tattoos, pointing to a certain part of the design.

Lu Jinghe: An “ω”!

MC: This is way too magical!

Lu Jinghe: That’s not all there is to it too. There’s another symbol hidden between these two drawings.

MC: There’s a 3rd!?

I was taken by surprise at his revelation. He was able to hide 3 different ones in such a normal looking Flower?

Lu Jinghe: Well, it’s pretty normal for you to be unable to spot it, because the third one…

He suddenly lined his arm up with mine.

Lu Jinghe: Looks like this.

The two flowers became one when he joined them together, forming an odd symbol of sorts. I carefully observed the lines and gradually, a bold, but pretty good idea of what it could be came to mind.

MC: …It can’t be a…”∞”, now…can it?

Lu Jinghe: As expected of the Lawyer big sister, you saw though my design at a glance!

MC: But why put the Flowers together with those Symbols? They don’t seem to have any co-relation with each other.

I took the opportunity to ask him the question that had been festering in my heart. But Lu Jinghe only looked at me silently for a while before rolling his eyes. I had absolutely no idea what he was thinking about.

Lu Jinghe: “α” and “ω” are the first and last letters of the Greek Alphabet, respectively.

After that, he opened his mouth to speak once more.

Lu Jinghe: And when both images are placed together, it shows an steady, but endless path.

Lu Jinghe: And if we add on the Flower Language behind this particular flower…

He paused for a while.

Lu Jinghe: “The love I have for you is true and endless; Everlasting, from the beginning till the end of time itself”

MC: ……!

Lu Jinghe: …That’s how it’s explained in Literature.

MC: ……

Lu Jinghe: This is something that was originally engraved on the rings of a couple. I only used 2 of the symbols and re-designed it.

Lu Jinghe: I never had the chance to try it but I’m glad I could whip it out for a test today.

MC: So…I ended up being your Guinea Pig?

Lu Jinghe: But aren’t you pretty fond of this image too? …It doesn’t matter if you were my Guinea Pig or anything like that…

He turned his head, feeling slightly guilty.

MC: …It’s fine, I won’t roast you for it this time.

MC: But this picture’s really beautiful! Thank you, Lu Jinghe!

Lu Jinghe: So long as you like it.

I returned my gaze back to the Tattoo’s design, observing it with renewed interest. And that’s why I failed to notice Lu Jinghe’s small intake of breath as he silently whipped out his cellphone.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Inside the Experience Hall

MC: But this picture’s really beautiful! Thank you, Lu Jinghe!

Lu Jinghe: So long as you like it.

Xiao Jin: You guys done?

Xiao Jin, who had been waiting for us knocked on the door before opening it a peep, poking his head inside.

MC: We’re done. I’ll be leaving the Stamps to you then.

Xiao Jin: Not at all. Just stay around and chat a little, I’ll just be a jiffy.

He took the booklet and closed the door to the Experience Hall back up again after he said that.

MC: He’s really enthusiastic.

Lu Jinghe: He’s always been like this ever since he was in school.

Lu Jinghe: I really did trouble him today.

MC: How long have you know each other?

Lu Jinghe: He was a Graduate Student under my teacher back when I was still studying in Florence.

Lu Jinghe: But, there was a period of time where I didn’t see hide nor hair of him.

He gave a half-hearted sigh.

Lu Jinghe: He was busy with his own workplace after graduation and after I went back home…I didn’t really have much time to contact him either.

MC: But you two look like you get along really well.

Lu Jinghe: At that time, we were the only two people who came from the same country among the few students our teacher had.

Lu Jinghe: So we had more common topics to talk about, and we gradually became friends.

He looked at the far-end of the place, his dark orbs flickering with emotions.

Lu Jinghe: Back then, Xiao Jin and I would often group along with a couple of other friends.

Lu Jinghe: We’d create masterpieces together, share thoughts, insights and even have little competitions with each other when we felt like it.

Lu Jinghe: Those times were really the height of freedom, where we were free to roam and soar to new heights as we pleased…

Reminiscing such memories made a fond but peaceful expression appear on his features. Although he didn’t out-right say it, I could still feel his inner longing to return back to those times.

MC: That must have been some wonderful, memorable, memories.

Lu Jinghe: Yup. They are very special, and very happy memories.

Lu Jinghe: I don’t think I’ll ever get such a simple and carefree time in my life ever again…

He laughed bitterly at that. He seemed to think that it was all just a small and trivial matter, seemingly unbothered by it, but it left an odd feeling in my heart.

My gut urged me to say something to him.

MC: Lu Jinghe, you…

Not waiting for me to finish speaking, his cellphone suddenly vibrated to life.

Lu Jinghe: ……

MC: What’s wrong? Is it urgent matters relating to PAX?

Lu Jinghe: Wait here for a while, I’m going to go pick this up.

MC: No worries, your work comes first.

He nodded, answering the call on his way out. I watched his figure disappear through the door, swallowing the words that had been on the tip of my tongue.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Waiting in boredom all by my lonesome, it wasn’t long before Xiao Jin, who went off to get our Stamps made an appearance again as he returned.

I took a photo of the Stamp and sent it to Cheng Cheng, confirming that I had completed the thing that was of top priority today. While waiting for Lu Jinghe to return, Xiao Jin and I started talking about the Tattoo I had on my arm.

Xiao Jin: As expected of  “The Amazing Lu Jinghe”!

He was also excited after having understood the mystery behind the Lisianthus Flowers.

Xiao Jin: Only he can think up of something so mysterious.

MC: The Amazing Lu Jinghe?

Xiao Jin: It’s the nickname all of us from Florence dubbed him. There weren’t many people who were as talented as that guy.

MC: Honestly, he’s even able to draw a Tattoo this well? His artistic talents really surpasses my expectations.

Xiao Jin: Talent plays a part as well, of course; but Lu Jinghe’s willingness to work hard is the top 1 or 2 in our school.

Xiao Jin: But it’s truly a pity…

He breathed a light sigh.

MC: A pity? You mean, him?

Xiao Jin: Yeah. I’m pretty sure he must have an immeasurable amount of stress and responsibilities on his shoulders now.

Xiao Jin: I’ve never once seen that cheery smile on his face ever since then; the joyful kind that comes with finding your inner-self and enjoying it…

He never opened his mouth again after that. I recalled what Lu Jinghe had said earlier and the feeling I felt then re-emerged from the depths of my heart once more.

What exactly was he feeling, to have let shown such an indifferent smile earlier?

Xiao Jin: But I’ll have to thank you today, for I don’t think I’d ever have gotten the chance to let him let loose if it wasn’t for you.

MC: Let loose? Thank me?

I was utterly confused as to why he was even trying to thank me.

MC: …Wait a minute, do you mean that everything that happened today…

I was told to re-queue and it had somehow turned out to be a DIY Tattoo experience…

MC: You mean, you were pulling the strings all along ever since we went to queue again!?

Xiao Jin: There are some things in this world you’re better off not knowing.

MC: ……

Lu Jinghe: What are you guys talking so happily about?

Lu Jinghe had already ended his call while we were both conversing with each other and returned.

I scrutinized his current expression and found nothing unusual.

Xiao Jin: Nothing. We were just making casual talk.

He blinked at me meaningfully.

Lu Jinghe: Right. Do you have any other arrangements after this, (Y/n)? Do you want me to send you to the Exchange Counter?

MC: Speaking off, Cheng Cheng just sent me a message saying that the Exchange Period’s already over.

Lu Jinghe: Is that so…pity, really.

MC: But…

I recalled the silly words Xiao Jin had told me earlier. Looking at Lu Jinghe in front of me, looking a little distressed, I secretly made a decision.

MC: How about we go round the other Experience Halls and try them out? I’ve not gone to a whole lot of them yet.

Lu Jinghe: ……

Lu Jinghe: Okay!

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Home

After bathing, I sat on the sofa, listening to the news as I folded the laundry. My eyes fell to the Lisianthus Flower on my arm as it moved into my field of vision, making me halt in my movements.

MC: This Tattoo…it feels like something incredible no matter how you look at it…

MC: It’s a pity that it doesn’t last long…

I sighed regretfully as I remembered what Lu Jinghe had told be regarding it’s life-span. And then, I suddenly remembered something that I had forgotten for a long time.

MC: …So why didn’t I take a photo of it as a memory…?

MC: If I don’t take it today, I fear the Tattoo might already be gone by the next time I see him again.

I couldn’t help but to feel that it was all such a pity that those two images would never see the light of the day again once they were gone for good.

MC: Forget it, it’s gone if it’s gone. Maybe I’ll have another chance to do thing again in the future…

I was still in the midst of mentally preparing myself when Lu Jinghe called.

Lu Jinghe: You okay to be calling now?

MC: What’s up?

Lu Jinghe: Xiao Jin’s planning on riding the coat tails of his recent popularity boom from today to open up a shop in Stellis City.

Lu Jinghe: It’s slated to open near in the next half of next month and he has invited us both to go check the place out.

Lu Jinghe: How about it? You free?

MC: I do have the time to spare, but I’m not touching any Tattoos…

Lu Jinghe: Don’t worry, don’t you have me with you?

MC: That works too…

Lu Jinghe: It’s decided then. I’ll contact you again once the details are fixed.

MC: …Okay.

Lu Jinghe: ……

Lu Jinghe: What’s wrong? Not in a good mood?

MC: …I actually just remembered that I forgot to get a good photo of our completed Tattoos today.

I heaved a long suffering sigh.

MC: This kind of Tattoo doesn’t last long so it’ll probably be completely erased by the time we see each other again.

MC: It’s really a pity.

Lu Jinghe: Actually…I’ve already taken a photo.

MC: Really!?

His reply made me perk back up in joy.

MC: Could you send me a copy? I want to keep one to remember it by.

Lu Jinghe: Hmm…Then, beg for it. Beg, and I’ll send it your way.

MC: ……

MC: Farewell.

Lu Jinghe: Wait, wait! Don’t cut the line!

Lu Jinghe: I’m just joking; I’ll send it to you later.

MC: Thank you, I’ll make sure to save it.

Lu Jinghe: Actually, you don’t have to be so worried about a mere photo.

Lu Jinghe: I could always draw it again even if it’s gone.

Lu Jinghe: Whenever you require me, Tattoo Artist Lu Jinghe will always be at your service!

MC: Cut it out, please don’t.

He already has to manage his company all day long and complete his University Courses while he’s at it; how could I trouble him over such a small thing like this?

MC: You’re really busy so you should take the time to rest whenever you’re free.

Lu Jinghe: Being with you is the best form of rest to me.

Lu Jinghe: I’m really relaxed and happy when I’m with you.

Lu Jinghe: So don’t refuse me, big sis.

MC: ……

I could vaguely hear him breathing on the other end of the line, but none of us said anything.

MC: I…

Lu Jinghe: I’ll send the image to you in a moment so make sure you check if you get it.

Lu Jinghe: I’ve got a conference call incoming so I’m hanging up first.

He sounded a little rushed and flustered, unwittingly calming down as I felt the small urge to laugh.

MC: Go do your work then, see you again someday.

Lu Jinghe: Yeah, see you again.

Not long after we ended the call, I received the photograph of our completed set of Tattoos. Maybe he had been a little nervous while snapping it, for it was a little blurred. But the wonderful visual effect it provided blended in really well with the design it depicted. Looking at it, I felt a little lost.

The purple Lisianthus Flowers bloomed silently in the center of the screen, it’s vibrant colors standing out starkly from the rest of the room.

MC: “The love I have for you is true and endless; Everlasting, from the beginning till the end of time itself”

I recalled what he had previously told me.

MC: That’s so romantic; I really hope I…

MC: Wait a second, something’s not quite right here…?

MC: If that’s true, then doesn’t that make this a Couple Tattoo?

MC: Lu Jinghe! You baited me again!

Realizing that I had been baited into another one of his “ploys” hook, line and sinker, I felt ashamed and angry at having fallen for it; but I subconsciously stroked the tattoo on my inner forearm with my hand.

I don’t know why, but I wish it’ll disappear a little slower.

——𝔉𝔦𝔫.——