#slight update to my rules to emphasize

[onlyathief]

*

[rafesangelita]

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

pairing: businessman!rafe x assistant!reader

summary: ward introduces his new assistant to the office, and rafe has to have her.

warnings: lots of flirting, secrecy, super sweet fluff, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting

word count: 3.2k

a/n: i wasn’t expecting you guys to love the moodboard so much!! thank you to those who requested more of this pairing, i see all of your asks, comments, and reblogs <3 if you couldn’t tell by the summary, this specific oneshot is telling how everything started, so there is a very slight time skip. don’t worry though, it’s nothing crazy.

“so if you’ll come this way, you’ll see the meeting room, which is where i’ll properly introduce you to the team in about fifteen minutes,” you followed mr. cameron, your new boss, around the cubicle packed room, smiling softly at those who cared enough to look up from their computers. “there’s not really much of a dress code, all i ask is that you dress for a corporate setting.” he lead you back to his office, where he asked you to take a seat.

“i won’t work you too much, i really just need someone who can keep me and my appointments with my clients organized. my son rafe, who is co-owner at the moment, will also be in need of your assistance, no worries though all he needs from you is to keep him updated on shipments and checking back in with clients to make sure they are more than happy with our services.” mr. cameron pushed a small stack of papers towards you.

“this is just the code of conduct, some expectations for here in the office. i’m gonna go take a phone call, and you can sign those documents in the meantime.” he patted your shoulder on his way out. you took a breath, flipping through the pages. everything looked pretty standard, all drugs prohibited, anyone under the influence will be asked to go home and will be terminated effective immediately, no firearms or weapons allowed while being in the building, etc…

then there was one rule, the only rule, in bold: ANY AND ALL ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS WITH THOSE OF HIGHER POSITIONS WILL RESULT IN TERMINATION OF BOTH PARTIES.

you hummed to yourself, mindlessly signing the papers with no clue of what was ahead of you. just as you finished signing the last page, mr. cameron walked in, flashing you a smile as you handed him the papers back. “do you have any questions for me?” he typed something up on his computer, the printer starting up soon after. “i do, actually. how come the rule for forbidding romantic relationships with higher ups the only one bolded? it’s not a problem or anything! i’m just wondering..” you cleared your throat.

“ah,” he stood up, “well the reason why it’s emphasized is because we want to avoid any and all legal troubles. lawsuits, investigations, it’s a really bad look for my company, and i would rather my employees keep their personal lives out of the office, especially those who are being paid very generously.” you nodded in understanding. “i see. very smart move.” you adjusted the ring on your finger, accepting a paper with your photo on it from mr. cameron.

“why, thank you. anyways, this is a temporary id for when you want to leave and enter the building. rafe is usually in charge of getting the id badges for our employees so he should have that ready for you by the end of the day.” he glanced down at his watch. “shall we get you introduced to everyone?” you nodded, making sure your head was held high as you two made your way to the already full meeting room. while everyone had been making small talk, rafe stayed silent while he stared at the blank presentation screen.

“good morning, everyone! i hope all is well, we’re here to discuss the construction plans for the skyscraper on the mainland, and i also have a new employee i’d like for everyone to meet,” rafe only saw your back profile, but with the view of your hips swaying in your tight pencil skirt and matching heels, it felt like eternity before you finally turned around, the sight of your perfect blowout and soft makeup doing something to his brain.. and his pants.

“this is y/n, and she is the new assistant to rafe and i. she comes from the mainland and has a degree in architecture, she is surely an amazing addition to our team, so i only expect the best treatment for her, as i do all of you.” you smiled, meeting everyone’s gaze, your heart stuttering in your chest when your eyes landed on him. he looked emotionless, but little did you know he was thinking of all the ways he could take you on his work desk.

“you can go ahead and take a seat, and we’ll get started.” you looked around, the only open seat being next to the man that made your stomach flip with a simple glance. you walked over, letting out a small ‘sorry!’ as you sat down, your knee bumping his. he didn’t acknowledge you at first, but once all eyes were on mr. cameron, rafe leaned in to speak to you quietly. “y/n, that’s your name?” you smelt his cologne before you could speak, the scent becoming your new favorite.

“yes, and yours?” rafe took your hand in his. “rafe cameron.” it took everything in you not to let your jaw drop. of course the insanely hot one was off limits. “nice to meet you.” you looked down, unable to maintain eye contact with him. rafe didn’t let go of your hand right away, clearly enjoying how shy he made you. “i’m assuming my father showed you around already?” you nodded, crossing one leg over the other. apart of you was slightly annoyed with yourself. you weren’t a shy girl, you didn’t avoid the stares of men, but rafe? he was a totally different ballpark.

“we’ll talk in my office after this.” he let go of your hand, smiling at you softly as you took out a notebook and pen, jotting down notes from what mr. cameron was going over. just like the rest of his father’s meetings, he wished this one would hurry up and end, wanting nothing more than to get you to himself already. thirty minutes later, and you found yourself sitting in front of rafe, both of you laughing about a topic he brought up.

“you know.. you carry conversation very well. a lot of people don’t know how to do that.” you adjusted your purse on your shoulder, both of you exchanging looks. he was wearing a white button down and slacks, his sleeves rolled up slightly. “thank you.” your words came out soft, the urge to steal a peek at his arms nearly unbearable. rafe examined you for a moment. “you dress very nicely, i like that.” he walked around his desk, leaning on the hardwood. “is this satin?” he rolled the fabric of your sleeve between his fingers.

if it was anyone else, you would’ve curled your lip in disgust before storming out the room and never looking back, but with the way this man towered over you, his eyes hungry as he stared you down, you met his gaze. “it is. and this? all leather?” it was a bold move, even for you, but if he was going there, you were going to meet him halfway. rafe sucked in a breath as your fingertips skimmed his belt. his hand came over yours, trailing it down his slacks, “we’re going to get along just perfectly.”

-

the next two weeks are a blur. first, you were too shy to look at this man, now he was stroking your thigh underneath the table during meetings. after he guided your hand over his hardening cock that fated day, it’s been nothing but hell for him, and you were enjoying every second of it. no one suspected a thing, and mr. cameron had actually told you to reside in rafe’s office for the time being while he worked to set you up somewhere nice. while rafe has been doing everything to get you where he wants you, you’ve been teasing him endlessly.

like today, you wore a black lace bra under your blouse, leaving it three buttons too shy so rafe could see what’s underneath. “mrs. thornton is on line one.” you’d bat your eyelashes up at him innocently, his teeth tugging on his bottom lip as he stared at your exposed cleavage. “you’re killing me, woman.” you’d laugh before getting out of his chair so he could take a seat. while he talked on the phone, you thought about the next way to torture him.

before you could start writing a dirty note for him, there was a light knock at the door. “come in!” rafe shouted, resuming his phone call while margaret, the receptionist, brought in the largest vase of flowers you’ve ever seen. “y/n? these are for you, honey.” you blinked, rushing to get up so you could take them out of her hands. “are- are you sure?” there was a small white envelope poking out the top. “positive. ask whoever sent you those if they have a brother.” she winked, leaving you dumbfounded.

you plopped down in one of the chairs in front of rafe’s desk, taking the envelope and revealing the small card inside.

you look beautiful everyday, so you’ll get flowers everyday <3

your head shot up at rafe who was already smiling at you. “sounds good, i look forward to our meeting mrs. thornton. yes, uh huh, alrighty goodbye.” you walked around his desk, rafe moving to face you. “did you get me these?” you took a seat on his lap, the most you ever let him touch you in two weeks. he sighed wrapping his arms around you as you read the card over and over’s again. “i did. ‘figured roses were too practical, so i got you peonies.” you smiled, pecking his cheek. “they’re my favorite.” there was a lot of intimacy going on right now that rafe wasn’t used too, but it was intimacy with you, it felt right.

“good to know. maybe we’ll get you through the catalog.” his hand rested flat on your tummy where your shirt had rode up. “you really didn’t have to do this. i love them.” you brought his coffee cup to your lips, your lipstick staining the rim as you placed the card back in the envelope. “i was thinking.. since tomorrow is the weekend and the office will be closed, why don’t we do something? i’d love to see you prance around in a bikini on my yacht.” he rested his chin in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

“i bet you would,” you laughed, “that sounds fun. what time should i be ready?” you adjusted yourself, so your legs were hanging off his thighs. “mmm, how about two o’clock? we’ll stay to watch the sunset.” rafe stroked the side of your face, your eyes falling to his lips as you nodded. “i’d like that.” your voice dropped down to a whisper as he leaned in closely, his breath fanning the tip of your nose. “i want to kiss you so bad right now.” his jaw clenched as you ran a hand across his chest. “so kiss me, rafe.” you wrapped an arm around his neck to steady yourself.

just as his lips ghosted over yours, there was another knock at the door. both of you sighed, your foreheads resting against each other’s before you got up, taking the vase of flowers to your desk. “come in!” rafe wore an annoyed expression as mr. cameron walked in. “great timing, dad.” rafe grumbled, making a small smile grace your features. “listen, i need you to stay later and go over some of the projects that have been sent in, and flag the ones you think are worth investing in. i’m leaving so me and rose can catch our flight on time, we’ll be back by monday.” rafe nodded absently.

mr. cameron smiled. “good afternoon, y/n. flawless work these last couple of weeks, i almost forgot how easy things can be when properly organized. you have a great rest of your day.” you returned the gesture, tilting your head slightly. “why, thank you. i hope you have an amazing flight.” mr. cameron walked out, leaving you and rafe alone once again. “just what i wanted to do tonight. work overtime.” you watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “i could stay with you, help you out.” he shook his head. “i couldn’t ask you to do that. don’t worry it really shouldn’t take me that long.” you waved him off.

“don’t be ridiculous, i’ll be more than happy to review the submissions with you.” he wasn’t going to tell you no, so he let you have your way. after a few hours passed by, you made your way to the front desk where margaret was getting ready to leave. “you have a good weekend, y/n. see you monday!” you laughed at how quickly she got on the elevator to go home. you walked over to the copier room and grabbed the papers fresh out the printer. “well, office is officially empty. margaret just left.” rafe yawned, loosening the tie around his neck. “damn, it’s eight o’clock already?” you placed the papers on his desk, humming softly.

you let your hair down from it’s updo, the waves falling past your shoulders. “what?” rafe was looking up at you with half-lidded eyes. he pulled you down, making you straddle him. “thank you for doing this with me. because of you, we don’t have to stay late after all.” his hands ran up and down your back, untucking your blouse from your pants. you shivered when you felt his fingers against your bare skin. “you welcome.” you tried your hardest to suppress the moan that sat at the back of your mouth.

“do you remember where we were before we were rudely interrupted earlier?” rafe started unbottoning your shirt, revealing your black lacey bra underneath. “fuck.” he closed his eyes, clenching his fists as if he was holding himself back from ravishing you right then and there. you smiled, running your thumb over his bottom lip. “there’s no one here to interrupt us now.” he grabbed the back of your neck, finally taking your lips in a heated kiss.

he groaned, making you grind your hips against his. this kiss was like something you’ve never felt before. there was tension, hunger, the desire building up over these last couple of weeks now rising to the surface in this very moment. the sounds your lips were making was enough to make you pull away, your cheeks reddening. “you gonna get shy on me now?” he tilted your chin up so you could meet his stare. “no.. i’ve just wanted to do that ever since i saw you in the meeting room.” rafe smiled, standing you up.

“you wanna know what i’ve wanted to do since i saw you in the meeting room?” his fingers worked to unbutton your pants, sliding them down your legs before pushing you back on his desk. you sucked in a breath as he ran a hand up your thigh, his finger slipping underneath the waistband of your underwear before letting the elastic snap against your skin. you gasped softly, your head falling back as rafe trailed kisses from your navel to your neck, slotting himself between your thighs where he leaned his weight on you.

you shuddered, his hands cupping your tits through your bra as he laid you down. “i thought about bending you over, fucking you to tears while you struggle to keep quiet.” his words elicited a moan from you, your hips lifting so he could slip your underwears off. “as much as i want to do that right now, i want to taste you more.” your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed wet kisses to your inner thighs, his arms locking you in so you couldn’t close them.

you thought you knew what pleasure felt like, but once you felt rafe’s tongue plunge into you, your mind went blank as he went to work on your clit, your back arching off the hardwood. he switched from slow languid strokes to fast flicks that made you see stars. “feels so good, rafe,” your hands shot down to hold onto his, your nails digging into his wrists. “yeah? like it when i tongue fuck you like this?” your body jerked when you felt him at your entrance, your toes curling in your heels.

rafe was loving this. you tasted so much better than he imagined, his cock straining against the fabric of his slacks. just making you moan and whine was enough to make him feel like he could cum in his pants. “please,” you whimpered, “please fuck me.” rafe pulled away, snaking up your body to align with your lust filled gaze. “i want to fuck you, baby, i do. but i want the first time i fill you up with my cock to be more heartfelt. i promise tomorrow that’s all we’ll do.” your heart swelled at his want to make you feel special.

“okay,” you whispered, tasting yourself on his lips. before you had a chance to think, he shoved two fingers inside you, thrusting them while his thumb rubbed hard circles on your clit. he was unforgiving, the wetness of your cunt echoing in the confines of his office. “oh, fuck,” your eyebrows knitted together as your mouth fell open, his eyes burning into your face. “do you hear how fucking soaked you are?” your chest was heaving at this point, your eyes rolling back as your thighs threatened to close around his hand.

the force alone was making you squirm, your orgasm so close you could taste it. with his thumb rubbing your clit faster, and his fingers curling inside of you, hitting that spot that made you scream, you came with a cry of his name. “oh, that’s it baby, that’s it.” he cooed, your breath stuttering while you shook in pleasure. you felt like fireworks were going off in your tummy, your eyes screwed so hard shut that you could see colors behind them.

“can’t- can’t anymore,” you whined, overstimulation taking over. he didn’t stop, determined to pull one more orgasm out of you. rafe kissed you again, swallowing all of your whimpers and moans as he managed to push you towards the edge one last time tonight. “fuck!” your mewled, your eyes shooting open when you felt a gush between your legs. “o-oh! i’m sorry.” you looked at rafe’s shirt that was now wet with your slick. “sorry for what, beautiful? i was hoping i could make you do that.” he pecked your forehead, easing you through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“you’re so perfect, you know that?” you blinked, your eyes shining up at him. “i don’t think i’ll ever be ready for this.” rafe groaned as you palmed him through his pants. “i don’t think i’ll be ready either.” he laughed, buttoning your shirt as you sat up. your legs were like jelly as you pulled on your underwear, rafe dressing you while you sighed blissfully. once you were both put together, rafe carried your purse and your vase of flowers for you as you two rode down the elevator to the empty lobby. he put your stuff in your car, making sure to shower you in kisses before letting you go in the driver’s seat.

“see you tomorrow?” he was leaning against your window as you nodded. “i look forward to it. goodnight, rafe.” he smiled. “goodnight, gorgeous.”

[namjoonchronicles]

tumble | yg

↳ genre fluff, established relationship, slight smut at the end

↳ words 5k ↳ summary preparing for close friend’s wedding gifts is a given for young married couple. an unexpected encounter with an old flame led to an unwanted rekindled feelings but karma reminds you who your heart truly belongs to, because it’s all about the actions, not words.  ↳ notes this i wrote during first week of university of my final year, trying to run away from responsibility. midway, my friend @hellotherehoneybee​ was having a difficult week at hers too, so i wrote this extra fluff for her, i hope she noticed. thank you for working so hard! (i wish someone would comment on the work i put on the banners of each of my stories, but nevermind) ↳ warning attempts of infidelity (not by you) ↳ song ‘happiness is a butterfly’ lana del rey

Nimble fingers punched the numbers on the passcode pad, just outside the door. Crumpled papers on the floor. Supreme skateboards stacked on the wall. Yoongi walked in, greeted by a line of guitars at the corner of his studio. His attention was on the phone, preferring to text over calling. His face was shone by the light from it. His feet kicked away the crumpled papers on the floor to get to his computer. There’s a frame of baby breath on his table next to his stationery. A picture of you next to his desktop. Bothered by the melody he endlessly replayed in his head, he plans to record the notes in digital form. He hasn’t decided which work of his he wanted them in, but any of it would be just fine. Today, he is expecting a guest that will contribute to the guide. Jimin springs in first, as usual.

“Why do you lock the door knowing that I’m coming?!” Jimin groaned outside the door. He is leaning against the frames, knocking repeatedly.

This is exactly why he had those locks put up. Several young producers lined up. Yoongi is teaching them how to make music. With a wry look and dry greetings, Yoongi invited them in and started the meeting. The project is rather simple. Yoongi has provided a raw sample to the aspiring producers who will try to make lyrics. These melodies are then sung by Jimin. Yoongi whipped out his sample from his computer and he will give exactly 30 minute for the producers to think of ways to make the music a song. The young producers wrote down notes given by Yoongi. They write and they erase. They wrote and erased. Write. Scratch. Write. Scratch.

Noticing this, Yoongi gave a soft smile. It reminded him of himself when he was just starting. The uncertainty, the overwhelming feeling of not knowing if the lyrics are good enough, or just plain dumb. As an underground rapper with social anxiety, he was afraid to be ridiculed the most, and he is pretty sure that these producers have the same fear. What he is about to say is nothing new. In fact, he advises it frequently in his lectures. Clearing his throat and with the aura of a seasoned lyricist, he said,

“Go with your gut feelings. Understand the feel of the sample and what you could derive from it. Let your mind run wild. First rule of writing music is that there are no rules.”

He emphasizes on creativity. Jimin was trying to write the lyrics too. He wanted to learn to write faster. “Jimin, your problem is that you’re a perfectionist…” Yoongi spat, “Your mind goes haywire at the possibility of writing everything, you have no clear direction. That’s why it’s so hard. You select a theme, and you stay on it…”

“But Namjoon…” Jimin began.

“Namjoon is a genius. His diction is out of this world, and he has been writing lyrics for years. Don’t compare yourself to him or rather, learn with him rather than coming to me, uninvited,” Yoongi swivels in his chair as the three other producers hang their head low.

Jimin puckered his lips and muttered curses under his breath.

Yoongi reaches for the journal he kept by the book rack. When he opened them, a warranty card fell out. He crouches down to get them. It was from the phone you bought. He caught you buying a phone on an online store when he returns to the studio, earnestly picking a good one. You even asked him about these specs and technology terms you don’t know about. Some of it was written down as notes in this journal along with his own scribbles of song lyrics. You wanted to buy a phone for your mom and pretend that it was from your dad. Your mom always complains that your dad never gave her gifts and is reluctant to spend money on her. Yoongi didn’t need the extra information but you gave it to him anyway. Yoongi learnt from you that your mother had been using the same phone for a decade, and nothing can be updated anymore. And because your father isn’t doing anything about it but think about himself, you decide to buy your mom a good new phone. Saving your father’s face by pretending it was him who bought it.

You didn’t know this but, Yoongi fell in love with you once more.

That phone comes with a warranty card that is now made its home in his old journal. You know he wouldn’t throw any of his journals away.

Glancing at the digital clock on his shelf, he wondered, just how his favorite person in the world is doing…

Yoongi entertained questions from his students. Explaining the build up, the body, climax and ending. Sharing what is fun and what is not, in writing music. What’s cliché and what’s attention grabbing. But his explanation was cut halfway when his phone vibrated, and swiped his thumb over the caller ID and answered with a small, “Hello?”

Jimin and the students studied his face. At first, Yoongi seemed pretty laxed, and then he stood up, abruptly. Instantly and visibly tensed.

“Where are you?” Pause, “Okay, stay right there, I’ll be right over…” He grabs his coat from the hanger and his tongue glides along his drying lips upon ending the seemingly urgent call. He appears distressed but it is masked by his calm exterior.

“Is something the matter, hyung?” Jimin asked. “I have to leave, I am sorry because I  have to cut the classes short. Make sure you email me the verses by noon tomorrow. I will deduct marks for late submissions…” Yoongi said in one breath and yanked the door open, had them leave the studio at once and locked them.

Namjoon was standing outside the hall, watching Yoongi as he trudges through. The older one was putting on his jacket albeit roughly and as quickly as he could. Namjoon couldn’t even get a proper greeting in return. It seems Yoongi is troubled by something.

Troubled by something is indeed accurate.

A few hours ago.

You thought you made a great choice. It’s what you wanted when it was your wedding, and you’re sure that Jungkook would like it too. Knowing just how obsessed he is with having everything the same color code, the sapphire blue kohiki plates would have fit in right into his kitchen like it’s one of the built-in. Yoongi always thought that Jungkook’s gifts are the hardest to choose because he is picky, but also not very picky. He has specified interest but also not very specified. You know more than anything that Jungkook is neither of those things. Ever since you knew the boy, he had always been grateful for any gifts he was given. It didn’t matter how expensive or how rare, it’s the thought that counts. Many years ago, Jungkook came to your house, when you and Yoongi were still dating, and he frequently used the kohiki bowls you have. He said he liked it. That's how you came to decide that his wedding gift would be just that. For his wife, you don’t really know her well, but you had Yoongi book a Swarovski perfume after recognizing that she frequently carries the fun sized bottle around when she’s out.

“Would you like to also see the latest collection of our Kohiki plates, Mdm. Min?” the salesperson politely addresses you and you thought that simply looking wouldn’t hurt. You after all had time to kill today.

Your hands glide over the impressive finishing of the white kohiki plates, truly in awe of the time and the craftsmanship involved in making this. They came in many sizes and as you narrowed down to the end of the gallery, you recognized a collection so similar with the one at home. You turned to the salesperson with a beaming smile, almost child-like. The man bowed at you and explained to you how this particular collection was especially sought after and high in demand, they decided to keep it in collection. Yoongi’s personal family collection had been imitated countless times in the past centuries, they eventually trademarked the design to be named, Empire Min’s timeless collection. It had served countless royalties in the whole world and the tableware was of grand prestige. Sometimes, it dawns over you that you married quite an incredible man with a lineage of such esteem, comparable to those of aristocracy.

Min Yoongi’s family may have stranded far from the royals now, but the traces are there. His delectable face, porcelain skin and honey-succulent voice, are as good as a blue bloods’. His family registrar was kept in the national museum and you had a glimpse of it during Chuseok every year, where they pay homage to his ancestors and it’s quite unbelievable that something from centuries ago was still available today. You didn’t ask a lot about how his family branched off the King, but you do know that the surname Min belonged to four most important Queens in the Joseon dynasty. Is that where his beauty originates from?

You smiled to yourself as you saw his signature underneath the gallery as the last few descendants of the Queen.

“The gifts are wrapped up, we will have it shipped personally to Mr. Jeon Jungkook as per addressed…” the salesman ensured you with an assuring voice.

Kohiki plates aren’t cheap to say the least. But Min Yoongi doesn’t like you worrying about it. Much less, he’d rather have you spend his hard-earned money because he doesn’t always know what you like. One last thing, a visit to the gallery with your trustee art enthusiast, Kim Namjoon.

He stride over as he ended the call. He looks everly dashing in those turtlenecks and grey blazer. His pectorals and buff body looks great in it. He wore those glasses that made him look like he was a postdoctoral student. Only he isn’t. He shoves his phone into his breast-pocket and his face shifted from a serious one to a cheeky expression. He presented his arm for you to take and embraced in a small talk with you.

“You just ended your lecture?” you asked him. “It took a little longer than planned, sorry about that…” he chuckles, handsomely.

“This gallery better be lit…” “You won’t be sorry. I promise.”

Namjoon guides you into an exhibition, guarded by several men in black suits and ear-pieces. The whole way there, you realized that there was no one around. It is only given, because Namjoon owns it. It seems he had it shut down for the day, because the most important painting is arriving from Versailles, and he wants nobody to have a look on it. Except you, of course. And it’s easier to do painting shopping without people hustling in and out trying to catch a glimpse of the ‘Kim Namjoon’. Namjoon talked to you about the randomness of things as he introduces to you his favorite works. He was talking about his sudden trip to Paris and how he regrets it, then talking about a wrong purchase and the books he is currently reading. All in a quiet voice, the kind you give to your lovers.

But you know that’s just Namjoon being flirtatious like it’s his second name.

Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks. This section of the gallery feels like it’s cut off from the rest. It has been endless modern art since the entrance until a few paintings back. This one felt like it was Rome or the Renaissance. The sculptures and dramatic scenes, the skin tones and flesh, it was a whole other world. You turned to Namjoon, questioning him with your eyes. You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like this type of art.

“I had a change of heart… while trying to understand yours,” he confessed. And it sounded strange because he let those words glide out as if he had no control over it.   He stepped back, pressed his lips together for saying more than he thought necessary, dropped his shoulder and turned to the art he loved.

“I understand it now,” he added, speaking to the frames, “Why do you like them so much… There’s so many stories to tell from each of these characters…”

You remember explaining to him about eyes in realistic paintings. How you wonder what they’ve seen, and what they have experienced. These endless thoughts usually trouble Namjoon, up to when he was about to sleep. You look beyond the surface of this painting and put feelings in them. That’s when he realized that emotions can be painted. Namjoon owed it to you, to having understood himself. And as he explained just how your art classes changed his perspective in life, he introduced to you the painting he thinks fit Jungkook the most. When you saw this painting unveiled before your eyes, you couldn’t agree more. It would look best in his spacious living room. Namjoon watched you as you signed the insurance paper to deliver the artwork. Watching you from afar like this felt foreign. With the history you both had, who would have thought that he would spend his life dreading the future he could have had with you.

It is all too late now.

The ring around your finger isn’t his. Maybe it’s for the better. He couldn’t have cared for you better than Yoongi does.

The most difficult thing about this relationship is, getting stuck between caring too much, and not caring at all.

“So you’ll deliver them to Jungkook’s house soon?” your eyes darted up at him as he approached the table.

“Leave it to me…” he said with a broad smile and dire confidence from a seasoned seller. A billion dollar man like him, could get away with anything with that smile.

Namjoon hooks his finger around the flaps of the door handle of your car and watches you climb in. Winding the window down, he rests his elbows and fixes his eyes on you, a coy smile on his pretty lips. You darted at him a look. A look you’d give to your malice doing little brother to warn him.

“Go on dates, go meet people, Namjoon… How long will you live this way?” “How would you know I’m not meeting people?” “You stacked books in my online bookstore, and still use my Netflix account to watch movies…” “Books and movies are better companions.”

You looked at him through your lashes and in those particular moments of silence, glances were exchanged and feeling somehow attempted to rekindle, however, before it could, you looked away.

“I’m going to Yoongi’s office, I’ll tell him you said hi…” “But I didn’t…” “Goodbye, Namjoon.”

The white Mazda CX-3 glides away, seamlessly. Stopped at the junction, and entered the main road. All these while, Namjoon kept watching. And it seems like, all his life, he had been watching. Because that was all what he was courageous enough to do.

“‘She loved him too early, and he loved her too late…” Namjoon muttered to himself.

At the junctions, your car pulls to a stop as the traffic light turns red. The building you were in were kilometers away but the scent of Namjoon’s body lotion hasn’t left. You always refrain from reading too much anything Namjoon does because you’re not who you were anymore. Your loyalty is with Min Yoongi now and it should be. Rather than feeling like you used to feel for Namjoon, it actually narrows more to pity. Namjoon had it all. He had your endless support, you had been his emotional anchor, and he had taken you for granted for many years. Eventually, you pick up your worth and search within yourself what you’ve given him. What you found out when you peel yourself away from everything that is Namjoon, is the fact that he had given you nothing but his concerns. There was no give and take. All he does is take.

Finding yourself, led you to finding Yoongi.

Yoongi was nothing easy to have. So it daunts you that difficult men might have been your type. Yoongi is rash and dry on his best day and even more harsh and unapologetic than anyone you have ever met. It came to a point where you exploded, thinking that even as life swallowed you whole and his arms was the only thing that could save you, you’d rather be swallowed whole. When Yoongi heard such a damning insult to his being, he got even. As harsh as Yoongi appears to be, he was a softie right under the flesh. Under his blank expression and inattentive eyes, he is all soul and bones. The more you know him, the more you realize that you both are strikingly alike. From the way you solve problems to the way he speaks, you both are a lot more common than you are different.

He is so intelligent and witty and blunt. You can ask him about literally anything and he always has an opinion about it. Because of his wide arrays of interest, you can never run out of topics to talk about. He is a great fun, and always adventurous although he prefers to whine about it at first. He said he hates camping but when you forced him to come with you, he looked like he has been camping his whole life. Lit the bonfire within seconds, adapted the forest life and just casually calm. The kind of calmness you hadn’t felt in awhile, you felt in Yoongi’s presence. Camping nights are always so romantic with him playing the guitars and you requesting songs you know he doesn’t know. There will be crinkles around his eyes before he looks down, embarrassed for not knowing that song. Once you give him a listen, he could play by ear.

He is adorable when he is confused or terribly tired. One night, he asked if you would come over his studio’s rooftop to spend time together. He spoke two sentences and fell asleep while you were talking. He unknowingly leaned his head on your shoulder as he dozes off. You brushed his hair away and thumbed his cheeks. His lips pouting cutely as he slept. You sat awfully still for hours, hours that he is still paying off with himself. To this day. It is astonishing how he could look like the cutest little kitty and also looked like he could swallow you whole.

His dangly multi earrings, gorgeous eyes and veiny arms, his multifaceted talents are as endless as his sweet words. Yoongi could make you feel heard without you saying a word.

The pedal planted to the ground, screeching tires and loud crashes. The windows on the driver side shattered and the airbag deployed. Loud ringing in your head as you try to gather your thoughts. What’s happened? You drove ahead a little more, because if you didn’t the road would have been congested. You pressed the hazard light on and parked on the side of the road to avoid other cars.

Hooking your fingers around the car handle, the door was pushed open. The car that collided with you stopped behind you. Your Mazda could continue driving but you don’t want to risk it because the shell of the tire was a little dented. The sharp ends were grazing your tire if you continued. The driver whose car you collided with was eerily quiet but he kept staring at an interval. You gathered your purse and fished for your phone.

“Please don’t get mad…” you huffed, “I got into an accident…” The back of your wrist on your forehead as you looked around in worry.

“I am at a round-a-about pass on Samsung Building 77 street… I’ll send the location,” you breathed, oddly a little calmer than he expected you to be. It all happens too quickly. You weren’t sure who was in the wrong. The last thing you remember was using the signal stick to turn to the right and the car on the right wanted to head to the left, surreptitiously ignoring the signal you gave. It seemed ages for Yoongi to get there, but when he did, he parked a little further and got off the car, jogging to where you are. Your eyes stung and got watery as he came to get you. You were so grateful that he wasn’t angry and in fact, just wanted to know where you were so he could be where you are. He held onto your hand as he went to inspect the car and its damages.

“What are you going to do with my headlight?” the owner of the other car came over, uninvited. Yoongi instinctively pulls you behind him at the forwardness of this man.

“Take it easy, let’s check the dashcam to see who was actually in the wrong, let’s take this to the police station…”

“What police station, it is more than obvious that she was driving recklessly and not paying attention!” The man tried to go over Yoongi to get to you but Yoongi held his palm outward at this rude man.

“Like I said, we will take this to the police station and they’ll decide who is in the wrong and needs to pay for the damages…” Yoongi once again marched against this man and stared dead into his eyes while dialing on his phone. He placed his phone on his ear and continued to warn the man with his body language.

“The insurance company? Yes, I have a car you need to tow. We’re along Samsung 77th Street by the roundabout, how long will you take to get here? 10 minutes, okay…” Yoongi spoke on the phone. You held onto Yoongi’s arm tighter. One hand in his tight grip, the other clawing on his sleeves, slightly below his elbow. Your eyes unfocused. You were biting your lips. Chewing on them.

Yoongi climbed into his car after you. Pressed the car engine on and thumbed your knee. You weren’t as calm now.

“What if it is actually my fault? What if I was the one driving foolishly…?” You stuttered.

“We will let the police decide okay? We hadn’t even seen the footage from the dash cam yet, he could just be manipulating you to think that you were in the wrong, just by the look on his face I know he’s the type to drive like a drunkard and blame people for his mistakes…” Yoongi’s large palm covered your entire knee.

“You want jellies?” he tries to console you. “What about the car?” you looked over the car seat to the view of your stranded Mazda.

“The insurance company will have it towed, don’t worry… It’ll be okay,” he smiles and chuckles lightly, “This isn’t a big deal, accidents happen all the time, honey.”

The car pulled to a stop at the red traffic light, and he extended his arm to gather your hand to kiss your knuckles. You looked at him with watery eyes, full of guilt and despair and you said to him in broken voice,

“I’m so s-sorry… I’ve troubled you,” you bursted into tears, “I just went out to get gifts for Jungkook’s wedding and it all happened so fast…” Yoongi gathered your head in one hand, pulling your face into his nape. He plants kisses on your head and fondly smiles against your hair. . . . .

The police decided to hold the man accountable. He was clearly changing lanes without signals, and he was also ignoring your obvious signals. Not only was he driving past the speed limit at a roundabout in broad daylight, he had the audacity to shift the blames towards you. The dash cam was proof that he was a reckless driver so he had his driving license suspended and he had to pay for damages you faced. Yoongi laced his fingers into the gaps of yours as he turned around from the man. Yoongi smiled smugly and took you out of the police station. With the reports done and you were acquitted from any traffic misconduct, the car insurance company will cater to all the repairing. Yoongi will have to drive you everywhere for now but it wasn’t something he minds doing.

You let go of his hand and proceed to walk to the car, hugging yourself while he watches you from behind. Your steps weren’t hurried, rather they were a bit slow but for some reason you thought it was far better to not hold him. In your head, you are still scolding yourself and knowing you as far as he did, he understood it. He climbs into the car, avoiding eye contact as his index finger sunk into the engine button. You were dazed, looking out the window at everything on the outside. Noticing this, Yoongi stops by your favorite mall. He said he wanted to get some tools and appliances for the sink at home. Every three months, Yoongi would have the sink maintained by pouring cleaning liquid and have it stay there overnight so it won’t clog anytime soon. Usually, when this happens, he would buy dinners outside and take you out for breakfast the next morning.

Both of you once experienced the sink clogging before, and the whole kitchen was flooded with foul-smelling liquid. To make matters worse, Yoongi was away for business in Tokyo, and you had to handle them alone. Some plumbers walked in to help, and even if Yoongi was grateful for their help, he would rather his house be under his maintenance. That's why he keeps a schedule for every heavy duty appliance in the house. This is to avoid unnecessary over spending and inviting unnecessary people inside the house. He has a yearly check for the washing machine, the refrigerator, the electric stove, the air-conditioners and the oven. He is always making sure that everything is safe for you to use.

With the car parked so swiftly, Yoongi joins you in the mall's lobby. There aren’t many people around since it’s weekdays. And as if you remembered that you needed a conversation, you jerked your head up and to the side, at your husband.

“Oh right! You have a class today?” “Sent them home early with an assignment to mark later…”

He pauses, momentarily. Lifting his left wrist for the time, he yanked his sleeve up. He then, out of a sudden let out a sigh,

“Should we have dinner here or…” his voice drawls, “I plan to start on the sink right away when we get home…” “That sounds great, I don’t feel like cooking…”

You lifted your eyes at the elevator door opening before you. Yoongi lets you step in first. You move to the back of the elevator at the corner, by habit and Yoongi joins you. He could see from your face that the accident hadn’t left your mind. So when the elevator arrived at the second floor, instead of the fourth where the hardware stores were, he took your hand and walked out. You didn’t question him right away but you thought it was odd.

“Ice-cream…” he beamed at you.

He ordered your favorite. Waffles, drizzled with chocolate syrup and some fruits. Then you talked about Jungkook’s wedding gifts and plans on that day. He asked you about the venues since you were the one that booked them. You excitedly say that it was in great shape. The venue was a garden, it has this magnificent backdrop of a man-made lake and Jungkook’s fiancé loved the idea of exchanging vows at the view. However, your smile swept away when you spoke about the wedding dress.

“Why?” Yoongi spoke softly. “Because she seemed conflicted to follow what her friends’ recommended instead of what she truly wanted. She texted me yesterday, saying that she hated her wedding dress,” your shoulders dropped. “Why did she hate them?” “Her friends basically forced her to get this dress from a designer they know. From what I heard he was pretty famous, but she originally wanted her old classmate to make one for her. So now she regrets it, because the dress was not her style,” you sighed yet again.

Yoongi looked at you through his bangs and a small smile formed in the corner of his lips. Always taking in other peoples’ problems as your own, always thinking of others and always solving other people’s problems like your own. Yoongi could feel how devastated you were to hear that story first hand, and he is certain, as you were scooping those waffles into your mouth, you are thinking of ways to fix it. Typical. When you make a folded taco, you would take the ugliest one so he could have the prettier sets. When you buy medical supplies, you always make two purchases, one for him. The bigger portion of cake is for him, the larger piece, the better half. Even when you ate something you think is tasty, you would buy one for him at home.

In one ways or another, you are constantly thinking of him. It gives him butterflies. How lucky was he to be able to find you. How can someone look past such a genuinely beautiful person. Inside and out. Whose love is this true and this devoted. Only a dire fool, that is.

From the ways you love him, he is most certain that you haven't changed any part of you.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, “I bought you something… I saw this at the bookstore, it's a moon and star water globe and I thought it would look good on your studio desk…” You rummaged your bag for the item while your husband sat there, staring at you with a fond smile. Literally, a woman’s bag is a wonder. There’s all kinds of things in there. Receipts from 5 years ago, set of cutleries for travelling, hand sanitizer, tissues, a notepad, a glue gun and candies. Coins.

He picks the old receipts up between his index finger and middle finger.

“Why do you keep these things?” he chuckles. You looked over at him and snatched them.

“Are you worried that a cop may come and ask you, where were you, four years ago at 2:53 pm so you can whip out that receipt from your back and be like, ‘I was at the Hunts Restaurant sir, I had a bento and tea. I have receipts to prove it?’ For your alibi?”

“I might…” you dashed. Half of your head disappeared into the bag, still looking for the globe.

Yoongi picks up Band-Aids, some unopened menstrual pads and coupons from your favorite pizza place that expired four months ago.

“Honestly…” he comments.

“Aha!” You exclaimed, “The globe…”

The globe, like its name, has moon and stars on it. His nimble fingers examined it, closely. You were so expectant of what he’ll say.

“It’s pretty…” he said. “Isn’t it…” you gushed.

You return them into your bag because Yoongi don’t have one. Once again, you reminded him to put them on his table later on. He assures you he will, he even kept it in the car’s dashboard, so that when he returns to the office, he’ll make sure to take it with him. On the ride back home, you fell asleep. He made sure that he went over the bumps on the road gently, making his turns like a grandma on the wheel. He parked the car and waited. Fishing out his phone and he took pictures of you sleeping. He scrolls down messages from work, check on items he bought online, read a few emails...

Then you inhaled sharply, awake. Stretching your fingers.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” you mewled sleepily. “Based on experience, you take 10-15 minutes to wake up when the car stops... “ he nonchalantly passed. You smiled at his bluntness. He endured 10-15 minutes of silence with his sleeping wife despite the turmoil he went through today. You couldn’t have married a better man. Even if there was a better man out there, if it isn’t Yoongi, you don’t want him.

Yoongi wasn’t lying when he said he wants to work on the sink immediately. You held the torch while he examined the sink. He wants to change the tap and clean the drainage hole. While he was struggling under the counter, you can’t help thinking that you were so fortunate. From how he handles things, to how he comforted you in times of need, to how he is made of husband material, you are certain, that God made this one, especially for you.

When he rolled out from underneath the sink, he caught you daydreaming. And he threw a sheepish smile at you. His thin white shirt is now drenched with spots of sweats on his chest and along his back. And he snarkily say,

“Wanna shower?”

You bit your lips at his remarks, playing coy at his forwardness. When in all honesty, you were down for it. And all the showers you will have in the future. . . .

Deep in you, knees dug into the mattress, between your thighs. His veiny arms gripping hard on the bed sheet. The sounds of heavy paintings, squelching cascaded in the room. He hovers sloppy kisses along your jaws like he was possessed and he said in his husky voice,

“That guy Namjoon… don’t feel right…” “I’ve been meaning to…” hisses in the delectable pain, “Talk about him…”

You propped your elbows up, leaning against it, brushing sweaty skin with Yoongi, you spoke is rasps,

“He said some strange things, so I am going to… delete him.”

Yoongi bit his smile, his porcelain skin glistening with the sweat that drenched him. His hand glides down your torso, with touches so hungry and starved kisses. He drew out a long deep moan, dove his face into your neck, chanted your name like a mantra--like a man standing on the verge of sanity, licking on the taste of infinity. .

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Copyright © February 8th, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs makes me happy!

[paradox-psyc-hoe-sis]

New Suits

Peter Parker x reader (but it's not a Peter x reader themed fic), Avengers x teen reader.

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: Y/n Stark and Peter Parker have planned the ultimate movie night together, but something gets in their way.

Warnings: body insecurities, angst I guess, mentions of weight and stretch marks, stuff like that. Both the reader and Peter are 18 years old.

A/n: Hello :) this is way more of an avengers x reader fic rather than a Peter x reader fic, but I needed the reader to be connected to Peter in a certain way so why not! Enjoy, my peeps - Honey

The clock ticked menacingly as you twirled the pencil you were holding between your fingers; last period on a Friday was always history with Mr Smith, and you hated it. Peter sat on the desk next to you and you could tell he was just as bored as you were, tapping his fingers against the polished wood table, staring into space. There were only three minutes left of class, and you were going to stay at Peter and May's apartment overnight to have a movie marathon, you couldn't be any more excited. As soon as the analogue clock on the wall turned to 2:58, you felt a vibration in your pocket and heard Peter's phone 'ding' in his pocket next to you, causing your teacher to turn around with a stern expression.

"I shouldn't have to remind you all of the one classroom rule," Mr Smith barked towards the class, "phones off." Once he turned back to face the whiteboard behind him, Peter turned to you with a confused look. Sneakily taking your phone out of your pocket, you saw a message from Jarvis:

"Happy Hogan is waiting outside for Y/N Stark and Peter Parker."

You silently showed Peter your phone before putting it into your backpack. What could Tony, or the Avengers, possibly want that'd ruin your weekend with Peter?

The bell rang piercingly through the classroom, and you packed up your bag.

"I can't believe we leave school in four months, it's crazy!" Peter started, shoving his textbook into his beige backpack. "One thing I certainly will not miss is this dreadful class." Peter kept his voice quiet, making sure your professor hadn't heard his snarky comment. Laughing, you and Peter walked out of class and down the corridor, towards to main exit.

"Why do you think Tones sent a car for us?" You asked, walking through the large double doors and into the sunlight. Both of you spotted Happy stood next to his car and headed towards the car park. "I haven't got a clue. But I'm sure Mr Stark," Peter emphasized, slightly disapproving of the nickname you gave your dad, "has a perfectly good reason. Besides, we'll probably only be at the tower for a couple of hours, right?" Nodding, you both walked up to the grey Audi.

"Hey Happy." You exclaimed with a smile. Once you all got in and buckled up, you took Peter's hand, and Happy began to drive out of the school grounds. "D'you know why Mr Stark wants us, Happy?" Peter asked, looking out of the window. Sighing, Happy looked into the rearview mirror to see you both. "I don't know." He said, looking back at the busy New York traffic, "Something about a suit update? I've been instructed to drive you both back to May's house at 9pm, so it can't be anything too important." You clenched up at the mention of a suit update, dreading what you were in for tonight.

You thought back to last year, remembering what exactly happened last time you got a new suit. You were quite insecure about your body, always wearing baggy clothes to hide it, but you couldn't always escape the sight of your own figure. To get a new suit, you need to have measurements taken, and the measurements have to be done in your underwear. You weren't fussy about having your measurements taken, as it was usually your dad that did it, but you'd recently been quite stressed about your appearance and weren't in the mood to do anything of the sorts today. Just this once, it didn't help that it was your father taking the measurements, either: you worried that if you became too fat or ugly, he would hate you. Considering you all were one big family, you wouldn't mind Bruce or Natasha doing it instead, so you were ought to ask them if they'd do it this time, to save any unwanted embarrassment in front of your father.

Soon enough, you got to the Avengers tower and headed straight for the common area. There, everybody was sat, waiting for Tony to arrive; Nat, Clint, Bruce, Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Rhodey. Peter sat down on one of the sofas, greeting everyone as he did so, but you stood in the door frame placing your backpack on the floor. "Nat, do you mind if I talk to you for a second?" Everybody turned to you, and Nat nodded with a smile. "Sure." She replied, hopping out of her seat and walking towards you. Nobody else was really phased by you and Natasha always spending time with each other, as you both were the main female avengers, and you saw her as a badass aunt. You began to walk down the hall, Nat to your right, taking slow steps.

"What's the matter, Y/n?" She asked, tucking a stray strand of crimson hair behind her ear. Stopping in the middle of the hall, you turned to face Natasha, a slight blush making its way to your cheeks - there was no easy way to say what was on your mind.

"I know this sounds really odd, but I was wondering if you'd take my measurements later on?" She looked slightly puzzled, but nodded anyway. You knew she'd want to know why, so you explained before she could ask.

"I'm just a little...insecure, that's all. I don't really want Tony judging me or my body, that's all." Her expression turned from puzzled to sympathetic, a slight hint of disappointment in her eyes. Uncomfortable, you looked down and stared at your worn out red converse.

"Y/n, you know your dad would never judge you, for any reason." You looked up at her as she rested a hand on your shoulder. "I'd really like to help you out, but I'm not qualified to take any measurements or information for Tony's work. Bruce helps to make the suits as well, y'know, and I could ask him if he'd do yours?" She spoke gently, stroking the side of your bare shoulder. You nodded, giving Nat a small smile. "That would be really nice. Thank you." Both of turned around and walked back to the common area. Just before you walked through the door, Nat turned to you and spoke. "You'll have to talk to Tony about this, okay? He's the best person to help you on this, and it might be good for you to get it off your chest." Nodding, you walked back into the common area.

You were sat on the grey sofa talking to Bucky when Tony walked in. Natasha quickly told Bruce what was going on when you went back into the common area, and he was happy to help, but you still felt a sense of nervousness like you had betrayed your father. Tony carried a piece of paper and a cup of coffee with him when he walked into the common area, sitting down on a chair.

"As you all know, we're doing new suit measurements and prototypes this afternoon, so you all need to be in the tower until 9." He spoke, talking a long swig of his coffee. "We should get measurements done by 6, and from then I'll need you to stay and give me information about anything new you want in your suits and stuff like that." He waved the sheet of paper he held and looked down to read from it, "This is a schedule that I beg you all to stick by otherwise I will lose my sanity even more than I already have. Clint, you're first to get measurements done in the lab, then you'll be followed by Steve, Sam, Bucky, Rhodey, Pete, Natasha and Y/n last." You swallowed hard when you heard him say your name, and tried not to think about the conversation you'd be having with him later on.

"Bruce and I are gonna go down to the labs now and set up. Clint, we'll need you down in about 10, capiche?" Bruce gave you a small smile before they both headed down to the labs, and with that, they were gone.

You watched as your colleagues left and came back, all indifferent to everything that had happened to them. You sat next to Peter, playing rock paper scissors until he had to go and get his fittings, when you talked to Natasha for a bit. When she was sent down to get her measurements, a wave of anxiety washed over you. You were next, and although you knew your dad wasn't going to see you, you still felt butterflies. Suddenly, Jarvis made an announcement on the speakers. "Miss Stark, Tony and Bruce require your presence in the laboratory."

Sheepishly, you rose from the sofa and said goodbye to whoever had returned from the lab and sat next to you - you hadn't paid attention. Once you got to the lab and opened the door, the only person you saw was Bruce.

"Hey Bruce." He looked up from his computer and smiled at you, rising from his stool.

"Hi y/n. Everything is set up in the next room, go in there and follow what Jarvis says, call me in when you're ready." You didn't reply, but walked to the door on the other side of the lab.

You knew this room all too well; it was the 'personal study' lab. It was more of an empty office than a lab, as it was only double the size of an elevator, but it had a small desk with some stray sheets of paper and pencils on top of it. It was rarely used, but when it was, it was for measurements, fittings, trying on new suits, practically anything that would require privacy. In the centre of the room was a small stool about a foot high. Before you could think anything of it Jarvis piped up;

"Good evening, Miss Stark. Please remove all unnecessary clothing. Do not remove your underwear. Then step onto the stool and await instructions."

Hesitantly, you kicked off your shoes and socks. You pulled your red crop over your head and threw it into the corner of the room, and began unbuttoning your high waisted jeans. You slipped your feat out of the wide leg trousers, leaving yourself in a black t-shirt bra and pants. Sighing, you walked over and stood on the small grey stool, relaxing your shoulders. "Jarvis, tell Dr Banner that I'm ready." You could hear Jarvis speak to Bruce in the lab, and within 10 seconds you hear a knock on the door. You answered, and Bruce walked in, carrying a tape measure and a small piece of paper.

"Are you ready to get started?" He asked, looking up at you. Taking a deep breath, you tried to relax all of your muscles. "Ready as I'll ever be." Bruce set down the piece of paper on the desk and began by measuring your waist, hips, and bust. When he got to your arms, you began to wonder where Tony was.

"How did you convince Tony to let you do my measurements?" You asked, trying to stay as still as possible. Without looking up, Bruce answered.

"I knew he wouldn't buy it if I asked to do only yours, so I did everyone's." He moved the tape measure over to your other arm, briefly jotting down a note on the sheet of paper. "What? You've actually done everyone else's?" He nodded, walking behind you to measure your legs. "It would seem suspicious if I only wanted to take your measurements, and nobody else minded me doing it. I told Tony that he should stay in the lab and start preparing ideas for the suits. He's just gone to make more coffee, that's why he isn't here at the moment. He'll probably be back any minute, though." Nodding, you were plunged back into silence. You didn't mind the awkward silence between you both, as he was family, but you wish you could try and start a conversation to distract you from your worries. Unfortunately, your mind went blank.

Ten minutes later, you were finished, and Bruce told you that you could step down from the stool. Before he left to let you change back into your clothes, he turned around to look at you.

"I know things are tricky, and it's not easy to appreciate yourself, but I just want you to know...we're proud of you. All of us, we love you so much."

You smiled slightly and nodded, and Bruce left.

Once you had out all of your clothes back on, you slowly opened the door back to the lab. There, you saw Bruce typing away at his computer and Tony, sat down at one of the desks, sketching out a suit on a large piece of paper. Tony only noticed you when you were halfway through the lab, and he put down his pencil. "Hey honey, you alright?" He asked, turning his swivel chair to face you. Already uncomfortable by the sight of him, you gave him a quick hug and slowly walked to the exit. "I'm fine, thanks, but I've gotta go for a shower. Talk to you in a bit!" You quickly backed into the corridor and speed walked to the elevator, making your way to the penultimate floor.

The elevator music today was a mix between jazz and swing - a mix that you despised. You took after your father, favouring classic rock over nimby-pimby music like this. When you got to your floor, the doors opened, and you were greeted with your room. Fairy lights and polaroids were strung around your double bed, an array of CD's and books littered across your desks. You were thankful that your room had an en suite, walking into the large bathroom. You ran the water until it was scalding hot, changed out of your clothes, and got in.

You were in the shower for no longer than twenty minutes before you heard, yet again, Jarvis reciting a message to you.

"Miss Stark, Tony is waiting for you in your room."

Groaning, you stopped the water and dried yourself off with a light pink towel. You put on a pair of pyjamas that you had thrown into the bathroom with you, brushed your hair in the mirror, and went back into your room. There, you saw your dad sat on your bed, admiring a CD.

"I'm definitely borrowing this." Tony stated, chucking the Nirvana album he was holding onto the bed.

"What're you doing here?" You asked, plopping yourself on your bed next to him, admiring your father as he scratched at his chin. "Gingey told me you wanted to have a talk, right?" Laughing nervously at the nickname you had coined for Nat when you were only a few years old, you picked at the skin around your fingernails.

"Right. Well, I had a problem, but now it's solved so I'm all good! You should probably go back to the lab now and do some more work." You rushed your words, desperate to get rid of Tony as quick as you could. However, he merely sighed, and sat up straight. He looked at you with an expression that almost literally read "I'm so fucking done with your woke-ass bullshit", which made you feel inferior.

"If you think I'm buying that, then you're definitely not a Stark. Try again, Y/n."

Before he could say another word, you rose from where you were sat. "Y'know, I think I might go and talk to mom about this. It's kind of a girl problem, Pepper will get it. See ya!" You quickly walked to the elevator door, and just as the doors closed behind you, you heard Tony mutter something about Pepper being on a business trip.

Shit.

From the elevator, you jogged down to the common area in hopes to find either Peter or Nat. However, when you arrived, the only person there was Sam, lounging on one of the sofas, scrolling through his phone. Groaning, you went to sit next to him, and rubbed your forehead.

"Hey honey, what's up?" He asked, sitting up straighter. Without looking at him, you shook your head, and replied. "I've had a pretty wild fucking day." Sam quietly laughed but tried to convince you that he was serious, pulling a stern expression.

"Ay, there's no need for that kind of language. Talk to me." He didn't turn his phone off, but placed it behind him on the arm of the sofa. You didn't bother to look and see what was on the screen.

Huffing, you turned around and sat criss-cross applesauce to face him.

"I don't like getting a new suit."

"...that's it?" He asked, frowning slightly. "Yes, that's it. I haven't been feeling like myself lately, and having to get a new suit fitted is just another reminder that my body will never be like every other girls. I'm ugly, I have a bit of stomach, stretch marks, there isn't a-"

"Ugly?" He interrupted, pulling a sour face. You nodded slightly, not knowing what else to say. "Y/n, you aren't ugly. And so what if you have stretch marks, or aren't a size zero? You aren't expected to look like a Victoria's secret model 24/7. Besides, you are beautiful in your own way. You were raised by a group of superheroes who save the world every week, you have the smarts of Tony Stark, the fierceness of Natasha and the morals of Captain America himself. Your body doesn't define your self worth, and it doesn't define who you are."

You were slightly taken aback by how good Sam was with words, but you gave him a small smile anyway.

"You should write poetry." You said, giggling slightly.

"Get your ass out of here before I push you out of the window, just for that comment." Laughing even more, you stood up and walked over to the door.

"And y/n," Sam added as you turned around, "go talk to Tony about this. He'll be pleased to hear it."

Pleased? Your dad would be pleased to hear that you're cripplingly self conscious of your body? Not focusing too much on the thought, you walked over to the elevator.

"Jarvis, where's Tony?" You asked, walking into the lift. Jarvis's voice was soon to reply.

"Tony is in Miss Stark's bedroom." Sighing, you pushed a button on the lift, and leaned back against the cool metal.

"Of course he is."

The elevator doors opened to reveal Tony on one side of your room, his back to you, admiring your shelf packed with books. He didn't have to turn around to know that it was you in the elevator.

"I find it slightly offensive that you can talk about it with Sam but not with me." You stalked over to your large white bed and threw yourself on it, staring at the plain ceiling above you.

"Talk about what?" You asked, looking over at your father. He walked over to the beanbag beside your bed and gently sat down on it. "Your feelings, opinions, thoughts, normal teenager stuff." He had a look on his face, as if he knew everything that was going on inside your head.

"How do you know what I talked to Sam about?" You questioned, sitting up on your shoulders.

"Jarvis picked the entire thing up, I was listening through my phone."

"Oh..." you couldn't be angry at Tony, he was your dad after all. You didn't mind him listening to what you had to say, but you wish you had the bravery to do it face-to-face.

"Listen, I know how it feels to be a teenager, and to have your parents expect too much from you. But your looks don't matter at all to Pep and I. They don't matter to anybody else, either. You have a great personality, and an even better mind, so don't feel like your looks are everything." Nodding, you stood up and walked to where Tony was sat on the beanbag. Offering a hand, you helped him up and stood directly in front of him.

"We love you, y/n. Peter loves you, I love you, Pepper loves you, all of the avengers love you. You just need to try and learn to love yourself." You saw a glint in his eye, recognizing the sincerity behind his words. He pulled you in for a hug and rubbed your back, letting you know that you were safe in his arms.

Maybe today wasn't as bad as you expected it to be.

[sierraraeck]

Prison (Pt.2)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Prison arc reimagined. Aundreya goes to visit Spencer and gives him some advice on how to survive in there. Story thirteen.

Category: Angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Mentions of drugs and homicide. Someone gets stabbed.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Just a reminder that this is all fiction and I don’t actually know anything about prisons.

Garcia visited him first.

Sure, she made the chart, but Derek, Aaron and Aundreya all agreed it was a good idea to have her visit first because there would be a lower likelihood that Reid would look disheveled or beaten up. They all knew she wouldn’t be able to handle that well, and for him, it would only make him feel worse to upset her.

Next was Hotch. He could help talk logical next steps. Then Derek because, well, Derek. They’d been super close since the beginning of time it seemed like, and he could try to get Reid to talk to him while helping him stay strong.

The prison buzzer went off and the line of prisoners were brought into the visiting room. Spencer immediately spotted Derek and relief filled his body. As he approached the booth, Derek stood up and surveyed him.

He had cuts below his eye, on his brow, and one even on his neck. He had bruises littering pretty much the rest of his face, the place between his temple and cheekbone swelling with a deep purple color. The marks on his throat were self-explanatory.

Spencer had never been much of the hugging type, but right now, all both men wanted to do was hug. All they needed to do was hug. But of course, now was the only time they couldn’t.

They both sat down and just looked at each other for a while before Derek started, “Kid-”

“I’m okay,” Spencer cut him off, but his voice was already shaky.

“We are making progress in our investigations. We all really miss having you around. Who’s supposed to give us all of the stats we need now?” Morgan said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Reid gave a soft smile at that, which was the best Morgan could hope for. “I guess you will just have to rely on Garcia to get you all that information.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“How is she, anyway?” Reid asked.

“She’s okay, actually. We are all having a bit of a tough time but we are all still keeping it together,” Derek answered.

“Good, good. What about everyone else?”

“Yeah, they’re managing. We all just really want you out, that’s all,” Derek attempted.

Reid gave him an incredulous look, “How are they really?”

Derek sighed. “JJ is worried, as we all knew she would be, Prentiss is deep breathing, but trying to keep herself all in the logistics of it. Rossi is helping everyone else, including Hotch who is just being Hotch. Level headed, linear thinking, determined Hotch,” Derek listed off. He would have mentioned Aundreya, except for the fact that she wasn’t exactly falling into the ‘somewhat-healthy-coping’ portion of the group, and he wanted to keep Spencer feeling positive without lying to him. But he knew the question was coming.

“And Chambers?” Reid asked, hesitant.

“She’s okay. Working hard but she’s doing fine,” Derek said, which was true if you were only looking at her from afar. She was composed, calm, and very determined to fix this. But no one was quite sure if she was sleeping or not. She seemed to be slowly withering away into a delirious state.

Of course, Spencer could read all of the context on Derek’s face and questioned, “Is that code for ‘she’s not doing well at all but is pretending like she is?’”

“Yeah,” Derek admitted. He couldn’t lie to Spencer, even if he wanted to, “How did Hotch put it that one time?”

“Struggling in silence,” Spencer answered. “Is she sleeping at all?”

The rest of them knew when to stop. They knew that at some point, after 24 hours awake had come and gone, they were so tired that continuing to work wouldn’t even be beneficial anymore.

Aundreya knew no such boundary. She worked until she passed out from exhaustion, and even then, set alarms to keep her awake. Everyone had tried everything in the book, but she wouldn’t have it. They all knew it was because she knew more than she was letting on, but they allowed her to chalk it up to ‘the message was left for me’ and no one argued. They say that love and fear are the two strongest emotions, both of which the entire team was using to fuel them, but she was running on an extra emotion. One that for her, was probably one of the most powerful. She was running on self-blame. Self-loathing. And once she went down that path, there was nothing and no one that could pull her back until the problem was solved and she could move past it herself.

“Not really,” Morgan tried to keep his answers as short and simple as possible.

“Tell her to take a moment and take care of herself. I’ll be fine for the few hours she sleeps,” Reid said.

“We’ve tried, but honestly, I don’t blame her. None of us are getting much sleep and for good reason. You’re not fine,” Derek said, and Spencer looked down, “And if I had the ability to go that long without sleep, just constantly trying to put things together to help you, I would.”

“I appreciate that,” he said shyly.

“So is there anyone in here you have made connections with? Anyone who can help you?” Derek asked. It was his main concern at the moment.

“Sort of, there’s this one gu-”

The buzzer went off again, signaling the end of their meeting. “Time’s up!”

“-we’re trying to look out for each other,” Spencer quickly finished.

“Okay, well just keep your head down. You are your first priority,” Morgan reminded him. He sounded like Aundreya, and it made Reid smile just a bit.

Spencer nodded and was shoved back in line and escorted out of the visitor room.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When Morgan returned to us from the visit, I could literally feel the worry radiating off of him. He headed straight for Hotch’s office, and I tagged along solely based on the intense eye contact he gave me as he walked by.

I shut the door behind us.

“It’s bad, Hotch,” Morgan stated, “It’s really bad.”

“What happened?” Hotch asked.

“He’s taken a hard one recently. Maybe two,” Derek said. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was about to choke up. “You should have seen him. I’ve never seen him look so … broken.”

“Let me talk to him,” I said. Hotch was resistant to the idea because I was well known among prisons and prisoners.

“I still don’t know, Chambers,” he said.

“I’m telling you, I can help,” I pleaded.

“We aren’t going to do anything outside of the law,” Hotch said sternly, lowering his voice. As much as I wanted to convince him that wasn’t where I wanted to go with this, I couldn’t, because he knew me better than that.

“You’re right. We are not going to do anything of the sort,” I emphasized.

He gave me a knowing look.

“Come on, Aaron. Right now, all I want to do is talk to him. He needs someone with inside knowledge helping him out.”

“Hotch, she’s right. He desperately needs that sort of help right now, and this is our best avenue,” Derek spoke up.

“Fine. Go. Keep us updated. Derek, grab the rest of the team and have them meet us in the briefing room, we have a new case,” Hotch said, nodding at both of us, “But I don’t want either of you sharing this new information about Reid to anyone else. We need them in their best state of mind if we are going to continue to get work done.”

We both nodded and raced out of the room. I quickly grabbed my stuff, barely turning to wave to the rest of the team before scampering into the elevator.

The drive over to the prison was agonizing, by far the longest 25 minutes of my life. Luckily, I had already prepared myself for when I would get to see him, so I had everything ready.

When I walked into the visitors room, he was waiting for me.

I almost allowed my focus to be completely consumed by him, but there were multiple other jobs I had to complete. I scanned the room and identified all of the guards. Some I recognized, others I didn’t. Then I examined the prisoners and came up with the same result, but it was good to pin-point possible allies and possible threats.

I walked over to my side of the table and he stood up to greet me. I leaned over and gave him a hug.

“No physical contact!” one of the guards hollard. Spencer’s figure was stiff but I gave him a squeeze before I freed him, not even bothering to look in the guard’s direction, let alone apologize like I’d seen so many others do. I knew the rules. But I also knew my rules.

We sat down and the first thing I thought was that Morgan was right.

He had taken a hard one recently, and based off of his slight grimace at my embrace, the evidence wasn’t only subjected to his face. I think the worst thing about it was seeing his eyes; they were dull, a gray sort of brown. Not anywhere near the usual shiny hazel or chocolate I admired on the daily.

“So who was it?” I asked after I finished my survey of him. I refused to ask how he was doing. We were both tired of that question, especially since we both already knew the answer.

“What?” It wasn’t the opening he was accustomed to.

“Who or whom was it that marked up that pretty face of yours?” I rephrased.

“Darrell and his group,” Reid answered.

“Ah, Darrell. Fairchild, right?”

“Yeah. Ironic last name,” Spencer commented.

“No kidding. Derek tells me that there aren’t a ton of friends in here?”

“No, not really. There’s one,” he informed.

“We’re gonna change that, eh?” I posed it as a question but if things went my way, it was soon to be a statement.

“How?”

“First thing’s first, I need you to drop the innocent act,” I said matter-of-factly.

“No. I can’t do that,” he defended. It was the reaction I’d expected.

“I know you don’t want to, and I know that it’s one of the only things keeping you sane in here, but if you are going to survive for as long as it takes us to clear your name, I need you to do it.”

He leaned in. “What are you suggesting?”

I met him halfway, his gaze on me intent, “Own it. Your charge right now is murder. That immediately puts you on a higher playing field than a lot of the rest of them. Own it. You don’t ever have to admit to killing anyone, maybe you shouldn’t, but you need to act like you did. Yes, try to stay under the radar, but when you walk, walk confidently. Shoulders back, chin up, as if someone just reminded you that your title is Doctor Genius Spencer Reid.”

He smiled slightly at that and I pointed it out. “Exactly. You get a bit cockier whenever you hear it, so keep that in mind. Other thing, you need-”

“Time’s up!” the same guard from before yelled.

Spencer looked regretful as he went to stand up. I reached over the divider and grabbed his forearm. “Sit down.”

His eyes got wide. “What?”

“No physical contact!”

I didn’t release my grip on him and just stared him down with an arched eyebrow.

His eyes rapidly flicked between me and the guard. At this point, the straggling prisoners were just loitering, preparing for a show.

“You need to get in line right now!” a different guard yelled as he approached us.

Spencer turned to go but I held his arm down firmer and snarled, “Sit. Down.”

To my surprise, it was enough to get him to slowly lower himself back into the chair.

“I swear to god Reid!” the guard ramped up. It’s never good when the guard already knows your name within the first few weeks. “Lady, I need you to remove your hand from him.”

I didn’t respond. All I did was cock my head to the side as if I was cracking my neck, exposing my beloved tattoos there. I then lifted my other hand up and set it down on the table, the weight of the bracelets and rings making for a satisfying ‘plop’.

I smiled up at the guard whose fiery feet were now frozen in their path. “We’d like a few more minutes.”

He gulped. “Uh, ma’am we can’t-”

“You know what my name is so use it. Also, you can, and you will. Thanks,” I hissed, flashing another toothy smile and narrowing my eyes. The prisoners in the back looked astonished and I winked at one of the ones I recognized.

“Sure thing, Aundreya,” the guard said with a nod, carefully retrating.

I turned back to Spencer, and it looked like somebody’d hit him on the side of the head with a pan. The level of confusion radiating off of him was almost amusing.

“What just-”

“Not now. We have more important things to discuss.”

“You have got to teach me that.”

“Teach you what?”

“How to act crazy and disturbed while also being in charge.”

I laughed. “Oh, Spencer, you already are crazy and disturbed. We all are. You just have to hone yours in, that’s all. And after the confidence boost you are about to receive from inmates and guards alike, you just have to feed off of it and walk around like you own the damn joint.”

He was looking at me with the most focus I’d seen in a while. “What else?”

“Take these,” I said, handing over half of my bracelets and both of my rings. The guards were eyeballing them like their life depended on it.

He observed them, then looked up at me.

“Put them on,” I instructed. He did as I said and I wanted to smile at how fitting they actually looked on him. “Anyone tries to touch you, show them these. They will either back off, or ask you a variety of questions. All you need to tell them is that you know me and you know me well. A handful of the prisoners already saw us talking and a lot more will know by the time we are done.”

“What else?” he repeated.

“I wanted you to get a tattoo of my ring, but I figured that wouldn’t exactly be the avenue you’d like to take so make sure that the bracelets are always in sight. Never take them off and don’t let anyone touch them. Other thing: they’re gonna draw a lot of attention, so you have to start acting confident and you have to do it now. If you are timid with them on, people will talk and wonder if they are fake or if you are ‘unworthy,’ so be smart about it.”

“What do I tell people if they ask how I know you?”

“You have two options. Tell them the truth…” I started.

“Or?” He was always fast at picking up on how things worked. And here, everything had to be a lie.

“Or you tell them that I was the one who caught you. That you were causing problems for me and were able to track down a lot of my connections and I didn’t like that, so I decided to hunt you down. It took me a while and a lot of my effort to get you. During that time we got infatuated with each other because we were so evenly matched and actually enjoyed the challenge the other offered, that’s why I still visit you. Tell them I want to break you out and initiate you into my ring. Tell them I have eyes on you at all times and will personally pay anyone who hurts you a visit.”

“What? I don’t think-”

“Do you trust me?” I interrupted.

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation.

“Good. Then tell them that and they will leave you alone. I will be visiting you at least once a week, and will make sure to make a show of it every now and then. But if we are going to make this work, you have to utilize all of the information I just gave you. And please, for the love of Lucifer, own your crazy,” I leaned even closer to him and looked right through his eyes, enunciating each word carefully, “That is the only way this works.”

I pushed back out of my chair and he mirrored me. I placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed them back slightly. With my index finger I tilted his chin up. I hooked a hand behind his neck and brought him to me, whispering in his ear, “You’re going to get through this, Doctor.”

I released him and turned to walk toward the visitor exit. I peered over my shoulder at his gaze following me out. I gave him one strong nod before turning back around and leaving him with what I considered to be the best I could manage at the moment.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Seven weeks and two days.

That’s how long Spencer had been in prison for.

Five weeks and six days.

That’s how long Aundreya’s bracelets protected him.

He did exactly as she said. He started to own his crazy. He started acting like he wasn’t as innocent as he claimed and he did his best to act confident while also keeping his head down. And she was right. Anyone that approached him quickly identified the chains he was now sporting and left him alone. They did draw a lot of attention though, and when he gave the false backstory of them hunting each other, becoming infatuated, her eventually winning but wanting to break him out to join her ring, it was like he immediately gained respect. He never thought he’d be so thankful for jewelry and lying.

But it only worked for so long.

Some of the guys thought that because Aundreya would be so caught up working cases, and because she’d ‘gone soft’ helping the FBI out, they could get back at her by hurting him. Surely she would no longer have the guts or the freedom to come after them. Plus, if she really enjoyed this new life, this fresh start, she couldn’t be caught ‘paying them a visit’ knowing how that ended, now could she?

Four cell doors didn’t get locked that night.

Must’ve been a security malfunction or something. At least, that was the explanation given the next morning.

But knowing Spencer’s luck, he was one of the four cell doors that remained open. The other three? None other than Darrell Fairchild and his two bloodhounds.

The small blade could have been smuggled in. One of them could have been crafty enough to make it. However it got there didn’t really matter. What mattered, was that it hurt like a bitch.

Twice.

The blade easily penetrated through his flesh, was brought out just far enough so that Spencer could see his own blood dripping from the blade onto his shoes, then plunged right back in. The second time came with a twist and a forceful yank upwards.

The rough concrete floor stung his knee caps and sent a wave of pins and needles up his legs. He put his hands over his stomach and had a wave of deja vu wash over him.

He’d done this before. Unfortunately, this time there wasn’t someone ready and willing to help him.

He looked toward his still open cell door, realizing that any evidence of Darrell and his possy being there was already gone.

Reid croaked out for anyone to help him, but no one came. He yelled a little bit louder, hearing a faint echo off of the concrete down the hall, but still, no one was around. Half crawling, half dragging himself toward the hallway, he continued calling out for help. His eyes drooped shut, collapsing only halfway out of his cell before he was able to identify the footsteps coming his way. His last thought was one of pleading, hoping that it was someone, anyone, who would help him. He wasn’t ready to die.

Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl

@kris-stuff

@blameitonthenight21

[currentlyreadingmanga]

Toilet-bound Hanako-kun Chapter 13: The 4pm Bookstacks (Part 3)

Previously: we met the fifth mystery of the school, Tsuchigomori, and poor Yashiro and Kou had quite the embarrassing time sharing some of their secrets. We also learned about the possible threat of a traitor among the mysteries and about Hanako’s drastic plan that consists of destroying the yorishiros before any of them have the chance of go on a rampage like it happened with Yako. After some funny moments and some adorable bonding time with our main trio, Tsugochimori agreed to guide them to his yorishiro. Oh! And Tsuchigomori seems like a huge grumpy tease and I already kinda love him. So yeah......

Now onto the next chapter!

Ahhh it’s nice to be back. Not only I was too busy studying but I’m also dealing with a cold at the moment, so I’m really glad that I get to take this weekend off to rest. So what better way to do it than this? I’m so excited!

There’s a lot going on here. I’m not sure who the figure kneeling on the ground could be. (EDIT: Hello, this is future me after reading this chapter and also chapter 14, and: Would this be Tsuchigomori? since everything else here hints at the conversation he had with Hanako in the memory we saw. Also and I could be reaching with this the fact that he’s in this position, kneeling before Hanako who is holding the lunar rock and what I assume to be his own book seems significant. Because I often associate a kneeling position with two main emotions: devotion and defeat. And here I think it could be trying to convey the latter. Like, Tsuchigomori knew that Hanako was clearly going through a lot but didn’t do anything about it because his book said that he would turn up fine, that this child would have a secure and happy future despite it all. But then he died, way too soon, when he still was just a child. And now here he remains at the school, as the seventh mystery, Hanako-san. And idk despite this grumpy attitude Tsuchigomori tries to maintain, he seemed to be obviously distraught by what happened; like, it wouldn’t be weird to me if he felt some degree of guilt because he didn’t try to help more)

Besides that, there seem to be newspaper clippings? also bandages and possibly rubbing alcohol? also tweezers? Quite a few items that one can find in a first aid kit, if that’s the case. 

And then there’s the main focus of the image: Hanako holding a rock of some sort and,... his own book? maybe? that’s my best since it seems to be black. ...........wait, could we possibly find out more about him this chapter??? ohhhhhhh now I’m even more excited. But yeah, there’s also a rope (?) tied to his pinky finger. Could that be a reference to the red string of fate? That’s the only thing that comes to mind. God, I have so many questions and this is barely the first page, I need to move on or we’ll be here forever.

But yeah, we’re right where we left off last time and Tsuchigomori is leading them to his yorishiro.

Update: Still hot

Kou and Hanako are pumped to get this done but oh! it seems like Tsuchigomori is only gonna let Yashiro go with him since she’s the one that will destroy the yorishiro. Also, he calls her “kannagi girl” and: “a medium or shaman, usually female, who acts as a medium between humans and the spirits or gods, helping to communicate between the two and to calm any supernatural or spiritual upset”. That’s interesting. Is that just a general term that is used to refer to humans who have this ability? Yashiro has it because she’s Hanako’s assistant and because of the bond they share, right? Or would there be another reason for it? Like, could she have had this ability even if she didn’t have this connection with Hanako? Because she was still able to see him the first time she went to the bathroom...but I guess she still wasn’t able to touch him there, so maybe she wouldn’t have been able to touch a yorishiro either if they hadn’t been linked together.

Well, Hanako says it just means that she’s his assistant, so I guess we can leave it at that.

Kou is not happy at all with the idea of letting Yashiro go alone with Tsuchigomori (can’t say I really blame him, I mean, even if I don’t think he’s a bad guy, they just learned he’s a supernatural being just a few minutes (?) ago). The man in question just asks Hanako if he can’t trust him to not do anything to Yashiro and Hanako ends up agreeing to let her go but

That’s a warning if I’ve ever seen one. Like, “you better take good care of her or else”, you know? That’s the feeling it gives me.

But yeah, Yashiro ends up going alone with Tsuchigomori. Am I worried about her? I mean, yeah, a bit. Again, he doesn’t give me bad vibes and I don’t think he will try anything, but Yashiro tends to find herself in risky situations way too often so the possibility is always there.

The place looks like a cave of some sort and it seems to be filled with gemstones and ohhh now I understand their presence in that one colour page a couple of chapters ago.

Her sense of self-preservation really is almost non-existent, huh? Yashiro, sweetie, please be careful, please, I beg of y o  u

Oh! They keep walking and he asks her about how Hanako and her are getting along and

First: I love my babies so much, their friendship warms my heart. There’s no denying that Hanako is a little shit sometimes (a lot of the time) but he really has been mostly kind to Yashiro since they’ve met.

Second: not only this man is a big tease, but he’s also a softie on the inside, isn’t he? Like, I kinda got that feeling last chapter when he looked so shocked about Hanako’s expression and when he gave Yashiro and Kou head pats, and this just seems like more evidence. From the way he slowly asked the question and how he didn’t look at her while asking, to his surprise stare and his awkward head scratch when she answered, everything screams “I care about these children but I refuse to show it because I have an image to upkeep gdi”. Please tell me he’s gonna be the reluctant father figure, it would be amazing

It sure looks that way, Yashiro, and I’m so here for it.

She asks him if what’s written in the books can be changed because she doesn’t want to have her heart broken by some douche in the future awwww baby. But that’s a very good question, I hadn’t really thought about it. Tsuchigomori says it is “fundamentally impossible to alter the future”. Huh. Okay, that’s interesting. So, even if you were to read your own book, you still wouldn’t be able to change what’s written there? Like, even if you tried to change things, the outcome would still be the same no matter what? 

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh that’s a cool mechanic. By raising the stakes so high, it gives us a better understanding of how some of the rules of this world work. But it also brings up more questions: like, how does he know that he will be erased if he changes the future? is there a higher entity that oversees these kinds of matters? Hanako had mentioned that he had made a deal with “God” so that his sins would be forgiven, after all.

.................you can’t say that and don’t tell us how this person changed their future! Especially when you’ve emphasized how rare it is! C’mon, now I wanna now!! also what he said to Yashiro is really sweet awww i can see behind your grumpy facade, you can’t fool me

Anyway, they’ve arrived at their destination and wow there are so many big gemstones on top of books! Now I really want to see this room animated. It looks really pretty~ 

Like Yashiro, I thought that one of those was his yorishiro but nope, we were wrong and thinking about it I guess it makes sense since it would be kinda weird to have it so obviously displayed; like, this room is hidden already but it’s understandable that he would hide it even within the room itself.

omfg Yashiro please that’s rude! 

But also! “are ones with the strongest feelings connected to them” + that soft look and that slight smile!! There’s obviously a very important story behind it (again, like we saw with Yako and her scissors) and we’ll learn about it, right? We saw Yako’s memories of Misaki when Yashiro destroyed the yorishiro, so something similar should happen when she destroys this rock-.....wait.......

Okay so I went back to look at the first page of this chapter and

Is that the same rock?? What does that mean?? Is it just for artistic reasons or is it connected? Did Hanako give Tsuchigomori that rock? Is that why he was acting worried about our little ghost boy before? But if that’s the case, when would have this happen? And why would he have such strong feelings connected to it? Are we gonna find out? omg adjshfda

Ohhhhhhhh he says that the one who gifted him that rock was the guy that changed his future! And he mentions that he still doesn’t know why the future changed. And that’s very curious, like, if it is as hard as he mentioned, then it would be nearly impossible, right? But also if that rock is related to Hanako does that mean that he’s the one that changed his future?? how??? please?? I need answ e r  s

...................excuse me, what??? um, I have questions, the main one being: how?? 

He says that he got the rock the day after the moon landing and honestly? the timing of that is impressive, considering he says that this guy wasn’t an astronaut 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Is that my ghost child I see??? Oh my god did they meet when Hanako was still alive???? Are we getting his back story so soon??? Okay, I need to. calm tf down and keep reading so I’ll find out ahhhh

Don’t you dare keep me in the dark after dropping a bomb like that, Tsuchigomori! You may be hot and charming but I’ll hunt you down for the answers I need, mister

Ahhhhhhhhhh okay, so she took the seal off, so that should destroy the yorishiro and the boundary, right?

!!!!!!!!!

So we are getting to see the memories connected to the object like with Yako! And there it says the date: 1969-7-22

Oh boy, oh man, here we go

There’s the school!

!!!!!!!!!

∑(;°Д°) !!!!!!!!!! THERE HE IS!!! WHY IS HE SO HURT OH MY GOD WHAT

jfc he’s covered with bruises and cuts. Who would do something like this??? God, that’s horrible and Tsuchigomori says it’s a daily thing? Is it a bad case of bullying? Where are his parents? Because those are not injures he would be able to hide, there are too many and in very obvious places. Hell, all the possibilities running through my head just get worse and worse. Like, it could be that his parents are dead, or that his parents know and don’t care, or even that his parents are the ones behind it and just. god, that would honestly be heartbreaking

He looks so sad and small here. Just an innocent child ffs who would do this to him??

This has been going on for more than a year???? Does no one care about the state this child is in except for Tsuchigomori??? I- okay, deep breaths, I need to calm down and keep reading

(So. Amane Yugi. So we’ve finally got his real name, huh? Is the translation here last name+first name or did the change the order to first name+last name?)

Sorry, it’s just that. I’m so used to seeing Hanako being goofy and silly that seeing him look so defeated and broken here just makes my heart hurt.

Tsuchigomori says that he wants Hanako, or, well, Amane, to talk to him about who is doing this to him because he’s worried who wouldn’t be and Amane says that it isn’t a problem but no, no, baby, it is, no one should even think about hurting you in such a way! And Tsuchigomori says just that: “just what kind of reason could justify hurting someone this bad?” 

........................... I honestly feel like crying right now. It really is looking like someone close to him is the one behind this and it’s just fucking horrible someone please stop this train of feels I want to get out (ಥ﹏ಥ)

You know, I have heard that this series gets angstier as the chapters go on but I really. really didn’t expect to get this emotional oh boy

(EDIT: I’ve already read and taken notes for chapter 14 but I’m really tired, so I’ll edit it and upload it tomorrow since I also have to crop the images)

[itsclydebitches]

Sugar-Coated Everything

Rating: General Audiences 

Warnings: None

Relationships: Qrow/Ozpin

Series: RWBY Rare Pair Week ( @rwbyrarepairweek ). 

Prompt: Free Day so that means BAKERY AU HELL YEAH 

Summary: How absurd, that Glynda would suggest Ozpin is lonely, of all things. What does a man need except good work, good books, and...

...and Qrow Branwen, apparently.   

***

Ozpin paused in the act of icing his cookies, looking up at Glynda with a thoroughly amused expression. After a moment he simply gestured to the work still laid out for him to do: icing cakes, dough to bake, bread currently rising, the photo albums he’d been meaning to update. Glynda rolled her eyes. It was a very old argument.

“You should try,” she emphasized, picking at a bit of cookie dough with distaste. “Honestly, Oz, spending dusk ‘till dawn in this place isn’t healthy. Who do you talk to other than your customers? And me?”

“Do I need someone other than you?”

“Oh please. Flattery hasn’t worked since college. Try again.”

Truthfully, Ozpin wasn’t sure flattery had worked on Glyn back in college either, but he bowed his head in assent. Transferring the cookies to a clean sheet he licked stray icing off his fingers, thinking over her comment.

“There’s James,” Ozpin said.

“You don’t talk to James, you two bicker. That hardly counts. Again, please.”

Ozpin chuckled. “What is this, an interrogation? Glynda, you seem to be under the mistaken impression that I’m unhappy and that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I have you, James—despite your protests—my books, and my shop.” Ozpin laid a hand fondly over his counter, picking up flour and enjoying the feel of it between his fingers. “There are men out there far less fortunate than I.”

The morning rush would be starting soon. Ozpin had perfected his timing over the years, but that only held up if he wasn’t distracted by well-meaning friends. It was with a pointed look that Ozpin brushed by Glynda, rolling up balls of dough with a serene smile.  

“You’re impossible,” Glynda muttered. “Worse than the kids.”

“That’s right. Shouldn’t you be heading off to teach them?”

Glynda glared, but it melted away when facing that smile. She sighed, smoothing her pencil skirt and picked up her bag. On her way out of the kitchen Glynda laid a hand on Ozpin’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I’m not worried that you’re unhappy,” she said. “I’m just worried that you’re lonely.”

Ozpin leaned into her touch but otherwise kept quiet. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

***

Beacon was a small, rustic bakery a mere three blocks from Atlas University where Glynda taught—a closeness that often benefited and frustrated them in equal measure. Ozpin had thought long and hard about following her there, the chance to shape young minds an alluring possibility, until Ozpin realized that education came in many forms. When asked about his bakery’s name, he told people honestly that good food was like a beacon of light in an otherwise dark world. He felt that he could help others with a good cookie or slice of bread, often in ways they didn’t immediately understand.

The students thought he was crazy. As did most of the professors. Ozpin didn’t mind.

Especially when his work so rarely felt like work. This was normally his favorite part of the day, when students running late rushed in for bagels or donuts, parents and 9-to-5’ers following at their heels for a good cup of coffee. Ozpin enjoyed the rush and the early morning complaints, made slightly better by his food. Today though, Glynda’s comment refused to leave him alone. Each interaction was enjoyable… but simplistic. Hollow. Ozpin passed a bag of donut holes across his counter and for the first time had to muster up his smile.

“Absurd,” he muttered when the rush died down. “This will pass, as all things do.” The tiny bell over his door rang and Ozpin turned, determined to reclaim his normal, upbeat spirit. He smiled a true smile.

And it immediately faded.

The man who’d just walked through his door was new to Ozpin—must be new to the neighborhood because it wasn’t in arrogance that he claimed everyone visited his shop at one time or another, and Ozpin never forgot a face. He certainly wouldn’t have forgotten his: lean and handsome with a 5 o’clock shadow, experience etched into every line of his cheeks while a veil of tenderness still lay behind his eyes. Ozpin’s smile faded because he found himself frozen, stunned in a way that hadn’t happened in years. He wiped suddenly sweating palms down the front of his apron.

“Hello,” Ozpin said and immediately winced at how his voice cracked. “Ah, apologies. I’ve… a bit of a cold. Nothing that contaminates the wares though, I assure you. It’s all perfectly safe.” Ozpin shut his eyes briefly at the sound of his own rambling. “Yes. Well. How can I help you?”

…he shouldn’t have asked such an open question. Oh dear.

Luckily, if the man noticed his ridiculous floundering he didn’t comment on it. In fact, Ozpin would be surprised if this man noticed any proverbial elephant in the room. He looked exhausted beyond belief, one hand scrubbing at his face while the other fished crumpled bills out of his pocket. The man dragged himself forward and tossed them onto the counter.

“I need a birth cake,” he said, voice raspy. He leaned one elbow down and nestled his chin in the crook of his hand. He smiled tiredly.

Ozpin, meanwhile, tried valiantly to get his heart-rate under control. “Of course. I have a number of birthday cake options. You’re free to browse my portfolio—”

“No, no, no,” the guy waved his hand. “I need a birth cake. Like, take whatever cheap-ass, three-day old shit you’ve got laying around and write BIRTH on it all sloppily.” He paused. “Not that your shit is shit. The birthday boy just doesn’t need anything extravagant. Don’t exert yourself.”

Ozpin stood, torn between amusement and slight horror. For the first time he realized that this man wasn’t just exhausted, but thoroughly hung over. As a rule Ozpin had very little tolerance for the drunk and this realization should have displeased him… yet he felt only a strange rush of fondness. Like he’d just found a disgustingly bedraggled kitten. Stupid, but cute.

“Just a moment,” he said.

Three-day old shit? Honestly. As if Ozpin had ever sold anything that wasn’t fresh and wonderful. (Okay, so there was his failed scones experiment, but he hadn’t sold those, just given them away to exceedingly wary customers.) He did, however, have options on the simpler side. Ozpin took a small cake out from the display case, already covered in his favorite, green fondant. As he set about finding a decent piping bag he took a detour into his kitchen, filling up a clean glass of water for his customer. The guy twitched a little, clearly surprised by the gesture, but he took the water greedily, downing nearly all of it in a single gulp.

From there on out it was easy. Ozpin was a fan of all holidays, including Halloween, and it was a simple matter to pipe BIRTH is creepy, jagged lettering. When he was done he turned the cake around and the man immediately started laughing.

“Fucking perfect,” he said, slapping his thigh. “That’s what I’m talking about. Shit, I like you…”

Ozpin bit his lip hard so as not to blurt how happy he was to hear that. “Might I inquire as to who this unique cake is for?”

“Beloved brother-in-law.”

“…ah.”

“Hey, this cover it?”

Ozpin looked to the mess of bills still strewn on his counter. They were numerous and all twenties.

“This is actually too much—”

“Eh, keep it. I’m in a generous mood. Not too steady on my feet though, huh?” The man shrugged ruefully. Indeed, he was now swaying a bit and appeared a little green around the gills. “Look, I’ve got kids who’ll pick this up later, alright? You just… just enjoy your day now, Mr…”

“Ozpin,” he said, giving into a laugh of his own. “And you are?”

“Qrow Branwen. Nice to meet cha’.”

“Likewise. Do go get some rest, Qrow.”

“Brilliant fucking plan.” Qrow waved vaguely in Ozpin’s direction before wandering out the door, that little bell causing him to flinch this time in pain. Honestly, Ozpin half wondered if Qrow would remember this encounter at all. He certainly hoped so.

“Only because he needs his cake,” Ozpin murmured and for a while reveled in that lie.

***

His lunch rush hit two hours later. The little girl came in an hour after that.

“Hello?” she said, poking only her head through the door, like she was exploring some dangerous place and not a well-lit bakery. When her gaze finally settled on the counter Ozpin gave a little wave.

“Hello,” he echoed. “You wouldn’t by any chance be one of Qrow’s ‘kids’ now would you?”

It was the difference between night and day. The girl’s face lit up and she scrambled inside. Ozpin barely saw her move before she was halfway up the counter, pushing back a red hoodie and bouncing on her toes.

“He’s my uncle!” she chirped. “I’m supposed to pick up a cake for my dad because today’s his birthday and Uncle Qrow was going to do it, but he got kinda drunk last night and that’s not his fault, not really, because Raven—Yang’s mom, not mine—said she’d visit Dad but then backed out and she and Uncle Qrow got into this biiiiig fight, so he’s sleeping now and I can totally carry the cake back all by myself.”

It must have been something that ran in the family. Whereas normally Ozpin would have been irritated by the English-mangling ramble, with this little one he found it only endearing. She couldn’t have been any older than ten, filled with happy energy and ready to prove her worth. Ozpin leaned down on the counter so he was nearer to her eye level.

“What’s your name?” he asked kindly.

“Ruby. Ruby Rose. And my sister is Yang and my dad is Tai. You’re Ozpin, right? Uncle Qrow remembered that much.”

A thrill ran through him, but Ozpin pushed it back down.

“How come…” Ruby hesitated, thinking over the question. “How come you’ve got such white hair?”

“I am very, very old.”

She giggled. “No you’re not. You look young!”

“Well then isn’t that just my luck. Do you know how I stay so young?” he leaned in, as if imparting a great secret.

Ruby’s eyes grew appropriately wide. “How?”

“These,” and Ozpin tapped a display case—a whole mound of chocolate chip cookies. Ruby looked as if he’d just confirmed something that she, along with all children, knew instinctually, and wasn’t that just grand? “Would you like a free sample, Ruby?”

Ozpin didn’t have free samples, but that didn’t stop him from giving Ruby a triple chocolate chip cookie when she nodded. He really hadn’t been joking. Joy like that was how anyone stayed young.

While Ruby enjoyed her snack Ozpin pulled out the cake, watching as she sprayed crumbs down the front of her shirt in laughter. After only a second though Ruby became somber, looking now at the lettering with a calculating air.

“Can you write other stuff?” she asked, sneakers squeaking on his tiled floor.

“Of course. Anything you wish.”

“I’ve only got this much though,” Ruby said, pulling out a few one-dollar bills and a depleted packet of gum. Lucky for her, Ozpin had always been rather fond of Tutti Frutti.

That’s how Ruby left his shop with three things: her father’s cake (little tyke was stronger than she looked), a bag of iced sugar cookies that spelled out “ZWEI BROKE THE REMOTE NOT ME,” and a message to Qrow from Ozpin.

Please come again.

He really was a blessed man. Qrow came back the very next day.

***

“I need a cake!” he announced shouting it loud enough that poor Ms. Peach nearly dropped her loaf of bread. Ozpin steadied her and sent a glare up at Qrow.

“Very well, but you will wait your turn, Mr. Branwen.”

Qrow only grinned. “Is that your ‘I’m in trouble’ voice? Not bad, I gotta say. Alright. That’s fine. Look at me patiently waiting,” and he leaned against the doorjamb in a pose so exaggerated Ozpin nearly broke.

He had to look to Ms. Peach to ground himself. “My apologies. Here, let me help you…”

Despite his supposed focus on what had long been a valued customer, Ozpin couldn’t help but sneak numerous glances up at Qrow. The change was staggering. Whereas yesterday he had been disorientated, listless, today he was just overflowing with energy—and Ozpin could easily see where young Ruby had learned it all from. More than that though, Qrow looked better, as if such a thing were even possible. He had healthy color in his cheeks and a lightness to his step. The simple jeans and t-shirt he wore were a huge step up to yesterday’s wrinkled clothing.

And now he was flirty too. Ozpin swallowed around a very dry throat.

“A cake,” he said when Peach had finally left. “Odd. Don’t tell me there’s another birthday so soon?”

Qrow snorted. “Nah, but needing another is entirely your fault. Dinky think you sold me is kinda small for four people and Ruby has been going on and on about how great your stuff is…” Qrow dropped him a wink and Ozpin didn’t know whether that meant he should be proud of gaining Ruby’s approval, or if such approval was just an excuse.

An excuse for what?

“Hmm,” Qrow hooked one hand on the counter and swung himself down into a crouch. He pointed—seemingly randomly—at a pink cake with flowers in the corner. “How about that one?”

Ozpin could see Qrow through his display case, all manner of sweets superimposed over his form. He shook himself out of a daze.

“Of course, of course. Did you want anything written on this one?”

“A five.”

He stopped in the act of drawing out the cake. Ozpin blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I need a five on it.” Qrow mimed drawing a massive five in the air. His grin said he was teasing… but Ozpin was clearly missing the joke. “Nothing fancy, just elementary school level stuff.”

“Does your entire family enjoy such strange confectionery preferences?”

“Ha! Wait until Yang gets in here.”

Ozpin didn’t have to wait long. Just two days after he gave Qrow a cake with a five on it (“Are you sure this is what you want?”) the most intimidating twelve-year-old Ozpin had ever met blew into his shop. Literally. She charged her bike right through the front door, bringing with her a gust of wind that scattered Ozpin’s flyers and all his loose cupcake liners. When she got that mane of blonde hair out of her face Ozpin met Yang Xiao Long, the perfect kind of firecracker to round-out this odd trio.

She pointed finger guns at Ozpin and demanded a cake with a six. Not a nine, six. Make sure you put a line underneath so we know which way is up.

“Are you playing some sort of prank on your poor father?” Ozpin asked. He was at a loss as to what else these cakes could be for.

The smile Yang gave him was a little scary. “Please. Dad knows when we’re playing a prank.”

Oh dear.

It went on like this, Ruby or Yang or Qrow (preferably) coming in every few days, asking for a cake with some random number on the top. Three times they asked only for strips, a single line down the middle of their chosen cake. Eight more times he sold to them and each time Ozpin felt simultaneously left out of and a part of something intimate. He faithfully learned the intricate handshake that Yang taught him. He put up the drawing of Zwei that Ruby gifted him. He tried valiantly to give Qrow his phone number.

“I am a coward,” Ozpin told his donuts and their glazed goodness judged him appropriately.

“What was that?” Qrow asked and Ozpin shook his head. He was over by the cookies again, picking out a selection for Ruby, and no teasing would ever convince Qrow that he was spoiling that girl. Not that Ozpin was much better. Over the course of three weeks he’d experimented with tart flavors for Yang and built new cookie-cutters to create the monsters from Ruby’s imagination. They were both, in a word, whipped.

Qrow wandered back over, dropping the bag of cookies between them. Ozpin waited for the cake order. It didn’t come.

“Is that all?” he asked, ringing up the cookies. Odd, but he was rather disappointed.

Qrow didn’t answer at first. He took his time going through his wallet. “You take pictures of all this stuff, right?”

“Why…? Yes. Yes, I do. For my portfolio.” Ozpin gestured to the ever-present binder by the register. “People like to see what I’ve done in the past before committing to a more expensive cake. Or they can browse to get ideas.”

“Yeah. Makes sense. You even take pics of our shitty numbered stuff?”

Ozpin smiled. “Yes. Even your ‘shitty numbered stuff.’”

“Alright.” For the first time since he’d known him, Qrow appeared a little out of his depth. Nervous, even. “Do me a favor then, Oz. Go back and put all those pics together. Chronologically. Then you can decide.”

“Decide?”

Qrow was already halfway out the door. He raised a hand in farewell. “Yep. Your decision, Oz.”

Fascinating.

Ozpin closed shop early that day, for the first time in nearly two years. It was the work of only a few minutes to lay out all the photos… and when he did Ozpin very much wanted to hit himself.

It was a phone number. Three dashes, ten numbers. He clapped a hand over his mouth to keep a giddy laugh contained. He might be alone, but how embarrassing.

Instead Ozpin stared hard at all the photos, drinking them in and enjoying the little shivers they sent down his spine. When he felt like he could move again Ozpin took another pic of the whole thing, sending it off to Glynda. Her understandably confused response came quick.

What the hell am I looking at?

Ozpin tilted his head back and smiled at the ceiling.

The answer to your worry, Glyn.

[ayellowbirds]

One last night. 

Tomorrow morning, I’ll post Part 29, while I work on Part 30. If, tomorrow, I write within the average number of words i’ve been doing? I’ll have finished NaNoWriMo for the third year, and if i add a bit more after that, i’ll have written a complete story for the second year in a row.

This has been a big undertaking, and it’s absorbed a huge part of my time. It’s been very emotionally rewarding, yes.

But emotional rewards aren’t the only thing I need.

Between car trouble and the news that my employment is ending early next year, i’m increasingly conscious of expenses. I’d really love to commission actual official illustrations for these books, but that’s outside of the present budget, excluding maybe something like one illustration paid for, per month. I do have an artist in mind, and i hope to work things out.

But first, i’m going to need funds to actually pay them.

If you’ve been enjoying what you read so far, and want to tip me even just a buck for the free entertainment, or help fund the creation of an actual finished text with illustrations, appendices, and other added content not included in the initial draft (or just help offset the cost of gas and groceries), then here’s the Paypal donation link for my household, and here’s my Ko-Fi link. 

If you missed the last update, or just want a refresher, then click this link.

And now, the pre-penultimate update:

The 29th of Vernary, 5647 CC

“It did what now?” Toiba asked, hopping up so near to the flame that she had to dance embers off her feet.

Waiting for Orangella’s reports through the flames had become the regular entertainment of the dungeon’s citizens, along with making bets on who and what would be brought back from Sheol. Scoloaster herself had a few pieces of treasure she’d squirreled away in a coffin riding on the possibility that Shiaroc’s mother would be among them, and so, she’d been waiting to hear the news. After all, Orangella refused to share who Cypora and the others had agreed to prioritize until after they learned how much in the way of souls the treasure they’d brought was worth.

“Dropped like a stone,” Orangella emphasized. “As soon as I put Vuègbòrd on the scale, it fell to the ground and wouldn’t rise up. The karishnikim kept piling some kind of weights on the other end, but it wouldn’t budge.”

“I saw you lift that sword like ‘twere nothing, Ella,” Bang said. “How’s it so suddenly heavy?”

“The scales measure worth, Bang,” she replied. “I don’t know if Almaz didn’t know what she had, or if she’s a bigger deal than we realized, but this thing’s monumental in value.”

“So, wait,” Keturah began. She stopped for a moment, seeming to collect her thoughts. “Do we get to bring back whomever we want?”

“Nah, they’re real strict about rules over here,” Orangella said, and sighed. “We have to go somewhere else, to meet with Q’dushah Herself, and get it weighed properly. No haggling, either.”

The 5th of Lumeary, 5647 CC

The journey from Kaf out to the great tower of Etzbamoreh had taken days, not in the least because, although there was a railroad, the train had to take a long route around hills and gorges. But it would have taken even longer to travel the wilderness on foot, especially with so large a party, and Caracosa insisted it was a bad idea if they didn’t want to stay in Sheol.

Cypora didn’t like the way Caracosa paused and looked wistful when she said that, though she seemed to snap with impatience when Cypora reminded her that they would resurrect her first of anyone.

Their party had divided; Yasker, Licoricia, Qurra, and Diadema had gone back to wait at the Sheol side of the dungeon, after Caracosa had pointed out that the rephaim they raised would awaken from their fugues once the price was paid. It would help to have someone there to explain the matter.

Etzbamoreh rose above the landscape from even a day’s journey away, a tower so tall that its peak pierced the wispy clouds of the dark sky, and so broad that once they were within walking distance—or floating distance, as Cypora tried to use her boots to levitate around, instead—that she could not see its horizontal boundaries, either.

“Are we meant to climb all the way up to the top to meet with Her?” Shiaroc asked as she helped Caracosa and Orangella unload their baggage from the train platform, the book with all of its details on the souls and costs of resurrection for the dead of the dungeon tucked under her left arm.

“I suppose I could fly up, but even that,” Cypora said without finishing the sentiment, craning her neck upwards. She could no longer even see even the sky-scraping upper levels, and the rounded stone exterior of the tower looked flat from the proximity of the train station.

Sefora came up beside her, looking up as well. “And what, bring Her all the way down? We don’t even know if She’s at the top. Could be she’s in the middle, assuming she’s not out somewhere else, like the angel.”

Cypora wondered about that, and sniffed the air. Something smelled like olive oil and coriander. “But She’s a, well, She’s Her. She’s a goddess. Couldn’t She be anywhere She wanted?”

“Yeah, probably,” Q’dushah said from where she was standing on Cypora’s other side, looking up at the tower, herself. “Dang, I forget sometimes how tall that is.”

Cypora fell into Sefora, winding up in a startled heap.

Q’dushah was the very image of how She was said to appear to prophets, mystics, and the otherwise devout, albeit at human scale. A woman of indeterminate age, whose head was that of a lion, and whose thoroughly-hennaed hands ended in claws like grain sickles. Cypora did make note that She very specifically had a mane, which made her wonder, and hope a bit more about the nature of the divine.

“You, um,” Cypora began.

“Me, yep,” Q’dushah replied, and leaned down to help Cypora up. “It’s nice to meet you before your time, Cypora, Sefora.”

She looked at the offered hand and its long razor-edged claws, and decided a bit of maiming might be less painful than slighting the goddess of death, the first thing in all of time that ever died. She tried not to let the relief show when the goddess’s grip did not slice off her hand at the wrist, and instead she was easily lifted back to her feet, pulling Sefora up with her without any harm to either of them. This close, it was obvious that the scent of anointing oils came from Q’dushah herself.

“So, I guess you know why we’re here,” Sefora said, “being a goddess, and all.”

“Yes, but it’s still nice to have someone to talk to without listening in on all that davening,” Q’dushah replied. She took a long stride over to greet Orangella and Shiaroc, and pet Sharf. As she did, Sefora leaned in to whisper to Cypora.

“She has the same color hair as you, eh?”

“Nu?” Cypora whispered back. “So’s more than half my family.”

Q’dushah turned to Caracosa. “It has been a while. Do you remember?”

Caracosa couldn’t nod, with how her head was held on in the armor. Her hand went to her neck, gradually. “Not much, but yes.”

“It’s good that you remained, for the others,” She said. “I can start fixing things, if you wish.”

Orangella hefted one of the bags up. “Ready for measuring, if you could show us where the scales are.”

She caught herself, and added, “oh Hallowed Lady.”

“Here, then,” Q’dushah replied, holding out one open hand. “We’ll start with the troublesome thing, that sword.”

Hesitating for a moment, Orangella looked to the others, especially Cypora. She nodded back at her, mouthing, “go ahead!”

When placed in the hand of the dead-but-not-unliving goddess, the the sword Vuègbòrd dropped ever so slightly, enough that it was noticeable that Q’dushah had to assert her strength to hold it up. She let out an inhuman chirp of surprise. “That’s very interesting. Let me see….”

She gestured with her other hand, and the book flew out from Shiaroc’s grasp, pages fluttering open and beginning to fly out as if on a breeze that moved where the goddess willed. Cypora saw enough of the pages as they flew past to realize they left the book in the order that they’d all agreed they’d prioritize resurrections and raisings of the dead. They landed in a stack in Q’dushah’s free hand, and she seemed to be weighing the pages against the sword.

More and more pages fluttered into her hand, and Cypora wondered just how much of the enormous book would be accounted for.

“Interesting,” Q’dushah said as the stack grew higher without sign of stopping. “Of these, I should warn you that many will not want to be resurrected.”

“Nu, raising them is fine, we assumed there would be many more haints and zombies,” Cypora replied.

“That is not what I mean, but, yes,” She corrected. The stack of papers was slowing, but still seemed to have a bit of rising left. “There are those who would prefer eternal rest, just as there are those who would prefer undeath. I will not force that choice upon them.”

At last, the covers of the book remained in Shiaroc’s grasp with about half the contents remaining. Several hundred pages sat high in Q’dushah’s outstretched hand, and the goddess seemed to be testing the weight of them. In spite of having just fluttered over through the air, they looked to Cypora like they were a lot weightier, in the goddess’s open palm.

“This is sort of unprecedented,” She growled, and holding up the sword, turned to Cypora. She continued to turn it about, examining it as though she could see details that its utterly black surface did not reveal to Cypora’s eyes. “I may, hrm.”

She fixed her gaze on the sheathed blade, something imperceptible in her dark feline eyes.

“We could start with the other treasures,” Orangella suggested, offering one of the bags. The goddess shook her head, long red locks swaying out wide.

“I do not like the idea of this remaining in mortal hands. I may have to do something I have never had to do before,” Q’dushah said, her tone far more serious than when she had greeted them. “I shall have to owe you.” 

The 6th of Lumeary, 5647 CC, in the living world

Scoloaster was the one who finally managed to speak. “We have credit with the goddess of death?”

“That seems to be the case,” Orangella replied. There was something odd about the light of the flame she was speaking through, which flared much brighter than normal when she made the connection, this time. “We’re going to need to be here for a while to work out the details, but Caracosa’s going to come through first to help guide people back as they’re resurrected.”

“So she’s really gonna…?” Keturah let the question hang in the air. She leaned back, and looked to Acantha, whispering, but not so quietly Scoloaster could not hear her. The senses of a dybbuk were sharp, even when possessing a suit of armor. “We kinda figured on her being a representative for the dead who didn’t want to be brought back.”

“Gonna be tricky, on account of her status as soon-to-be alive,” Bang agreed.

Scoloaster scoffed. “Whence did you get that idea?”

“Well, according to Cypora, Jayyida said that the older dead wouldn’t respect Qurra as a leader, so,” Keturah shrugged.

“It’s not because she’s alive,” Scoloaster explained. Honestly, the living could be so dense, pun intended. “It’s because she’s never been dead. She’s not even a gilgul.”

“So, because Miss Grandee has been dead, and I’m guessing for a good long while,” Bang observed, “folks what are dead will listen to her?”

“More than that, one supposes,” Scoloaster said. “Those who were dead and will soon be alive again. She was a military leader.”

She wondered if perhaps she could convince Caracosa to become an Avanturistyeger. It was great fun. 

The 6th of Lumeary, 5647 CC, in Sheol

Caracosa let out a terrible scream when she came back to life, and Cypora dropped to support her as she fell. On top of wearing armor, she was bigger and taller than Cypora. Strength wasn’t the question so much as just getting the right angle to hold her up.

“What’s wrong?” Cypora asked, bracing her. Caracosa was heaving, choking. All the color that had gone back into her had turned into an anguished flush.

“She’s been dead long enough that it’s a bit of a shock, suddenly feeling how empty her belly is, blood starting to flow again,” Q’dushah explained, holding out a bowl of some kind of broth. “Even having a beating heart and pumping lungs is going to be hard to cope with. Here, drink.”

Caracosa nearly buried her face in the bowl, and Cypora had to hold her hair back, not only to keep it out of the soup, but to keep her from drinking too fast. “Hey, pace yourself a bit. It’s not going anywhere, and you’re back. You’re all back.”

“Is this gonna happen to everyone who returns to life?” Sefora asked. She had insisted on several people in particular, and Cypora suspected she was worried about them suffering.

“Different people react differently,” Q’dushah replied. “I will have some food available back at your dungeon, and I recommend that you arrange for that on the living side, as well.”

Orangella nodded, readying a candle to light to light to link to the fires at the dungeon. “Who’s coming back first? I’ll need to tell them what to prepare, after all.”

As Caracosa finished drinking down the soup, she collapsed into Cypora’s lap, breathing heavily but seeming to calm. Cypora looked to Shiaroc, who was holding the stack of papers the goddess had returned to them. They’d spent more time going over her letters, and Shiaroc was a fast enough student that she was starting to grasp at least enough to guess at names when she saw the illustrations on each page.

“If Yasker and Diadema are there, we should bring back those who would know them, first,” she said. She plucked out a smaller stack of pages from the bulk. “The small folk, for the first? Shreteles, kapelyushnikles, leprechauns.”

“I can do that,” Caracosa said, starting to stand. Cypora helped her up, and the older woman gave her a strange look. “You’re a lot stronger than you look, honey.”

The 11th of Lumeary, 5647 CC

When Caracosa Grandee returned through the ring of mirrors in the grove to the land of the living, she had had time to freshen up and change into more comfortable—yet grandiose attire. The only exception was a growth of pale stubble that had returned along with her breath and the flow of blood. Scoloaster was waiting for her, along with the Widows, Bang, Keturah, and nearly every living shretele and kapelyushnikle. That the small folk tended not to menace adventurers in the dungeon had never been a deterrent to the greediest of their kind, and small size along and magical trickery was perhaps the only reason as many survived as had. Of the smaller population of leprechauns, none remained alive in the dungeon, until that day.

Behind Caracosa—in all the finery of her old cavalry uniform restored, her cape billowing out impressively as she took long steps out of the grove—a crowd of tiny people returned to the land of the living. A cheer went up that living ears could not hear in its entirety, and there were many fond embraces.

And amidst the conversation and explanations, words of gratitude on tiny mouths. A building cheer as more and more agreed on what was the ultimate reason they’d been restored to life, in many cases after a great, long time. Who it was who had pushed for treasure to be returned to the dungeon, and then used for its inhabitants.

It wasn’t that she had suggested anything particularly clever, or that nobody in the dungeon had ever thought of it, Scoloaster knew. It was a matter of the timing of it, and a stubbornness that cut through convention to get to what made sense, rather than what they’d all gotten used to as the facts of life. The cheer went up in the name of the girl who came in and gave that last little push everyone needed to do something about everything that had gone wrong, to do more than simply survive.

In the ultrasonic chirps of the shreteles, Yasker led the cheer, “Cypora! Queen Cypora!”

The 23rd of Lumeary, 5647 CC

When Caracosa returned the second time, the stubble starting to turn into wispy hints of sideburns was oiled down slick in a metropolitan style, and she fussed at it in the way those trying to seem charmingly roguish often did. She was accompanied by Diadema, along with those among the formerly-dead who had been more beastly and varied, but she was also followed most closely by Licoricia. The girl was apparently trying to learn the trick of traveling between the worlds of the living and dead.

A varied crowd of bigfoots—or perhaps the right plural was bigfeet—greeted Bang warmly, as did, to Scoloaster’s surprise, a few se’irim.

“Call yourself an anti-paladin?” she heard one say, seeming impressed. “Can anyone get in on that?”

A ‘small’ giant had managed to almost get herself through the gate of the opening, and Bang excused himself to lend a hand in easing her through without breaking anything, but the new hangers-on were following.

More of the white beasts that often accompanied Diadema had come through, joining their packmates and expressing what Scoloaster supposed was joy, and other pale creatures that must have been their near kin; one more bipedal beast with horns and a thick tail, a half dozen others that stood fully upright and bore long claws. This last group had managed to get through the gate with ease where  the giantess was having trouble, in spite of standing just as tall at easily twice the height of a very tall human. She supposed they might have been like some small furry animals, more hair than flesh and bones, allowing them to squeeze through.

On the subject of furry things, a great many taily-pos had returned, and Rifka excitedly told them of her adventures with the Avanturistyegers. Scoloaster thought that it would be unfair to bet on whether every last one would join the next excursion.

Other creatures and critters arrived; many of which Scoloaster would not have known for fully intelligent members of the community if she had not been so long in and about the dungeon. A thing like a cross between a small dog and a teapot, a cylindrical monster that giddily rolled itself about, and all kinds of stranger birds and beasts.

Far up above, Toussaint was applauding.

[ael-xander]

Healing Journal 

Wakanda-- Months before Thanos

Ael stepped into the lab, shedding her knit cap, dropping her medical bag. “Shuri, I’ve been with the Jabari for weeks now since T’Challa has been named King of Wakanda, what’s going on?” 

“You asked about the broken white boy I’ve been working on. I’ve got most of the programming isolated, but I think I’ll need your specific abilities for part of this.” Shuri frowned as Ael looked at the medical records. “He’s been wiped multiple times, Ael. Worse, they used multiple drug combinations to keep him controlled along with their version of the super soldier serum.” 

Ael looked up. “Oh. Oh!” She stood up and went to her back, fishing out her vibranium and platinum torc. “You have to leave when I do this. This is not negotiable, Shuri.” Noticing the frown on her adopted sister’s face, Ael sighed. “Look, I know this ‘broken white boy.’ I promised a while ago, if there was a way for him to be cured, I’d make sure to keep the vulnerable away when we did it. Ubhuti would kick my ass if you were hurt.” 

“Do you think I would be less upset if you were hurt, nenkuku yamanzi?” Ael spun, spotting her adopted brother, T’Challa standing there with a tall, blond hair, bearded man. Ael greeted T’Challa and the man with the traditional Wakandan greeting. 

“Ubhuti, we both know I’m not in the ruling line. I’m the White Owl, healer among the tribes. Captain Rogers?” Ael looked closely at the man next to T’Challa. “You’re here for your friend. He’s in good hands with Shuri.” 

“And you, if I’m to hear both King T’Challa and Shuri both. I’m just Steve Rogers now.” He put out his hand. She shook it, amazed at how gentle his touch, yet how much he held back. Just like Bucky, the Winter Soldier. This made it even more imperative to do what she promised Bucky a few years ago. 

“They often overstate my abilities. I’m a simple healer, Captain Rogers, Steve.” Ael glared at T’Challa. “Especially T’Challa. You need to take Shuri out while I work. She can remotely monitor from her backup lab.” She ignored them, removing a couple of items she needed, including a small item she kept specifically of Bucky’s all these years. She pulled up the cryo-tube and started the process. “Well? I’m not joking. What I’m about to do isn’t for the faint of heart, Ubhuti. If you won’t clear the lab, I will put you all under. Your call.” Ael folded her arms across her chest.

Steve looked to T’Challa. “What does she mean by putting us under? I need to make sure Bucky is still himself when he comes back.” 

T’Challa growled, then pointed to Shuri, “Hamba, udade. Akufanelekile ukulwa naye, kungekhona ngoku. She’ll only put us asleep and have the Dora Milaje take us out, Shuri.” Shuri stomped out as he turned to his friend. “Steve, Ael is a healer of power. She’s not like any healer you’ve seen before. You will let him remain. That’s my order, White Owl.” 

“Then he sits out of the way. I will not tolerate interference, T’Challa. Shuri did amazing in clearing most of the crap out, but now, it’s time to heal Bucky.” Ael caressed the man’s face, a slight smile on her face. “I owe him a lot, Ubhuti. In fact, so does SHIELD. They just don’t know it. The Winter Soldier fought his own programming many times, and when he did, I met him, helping him through those times. This time, we will succeed, isn’t that right, James Buchanan Barnes?” Ael placed a hand on his heart, another on his forehead, spoke softly, a golden hue surrounding them both. 

“Stay here, Steve. I must attend my sister. She will try to disobey. Ael will be weak when she comes around. Please don’t let your friend harm her. She is my sister of my heart.” T’Challa left the room as Ael started singing softly, an old song, one that Steve remembered from long ago, back in the forties. 

*****

Ael sunk deep within Bucky’s mind, calling to him with the song. It was their trigger, letting each other know they were close. She heard him calling her name, his words a mixture of Russian and English. Finally, she found him in the last place she expected, a small home outside of Amsterdam. “Bucky? James? It’s Ael.” 

“Come in, I’m okay, for now.” The door opened and she entered. She gasped at the haggard looking man before her. She put her hand up to Bucky’s face. “Hey now, no crying, tselitel'.”

“What did they do to you?” Ael concentrated, her mind taking in the pain, the memories of what Bucky lived through, the fight between him, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. “That was not your fault, Bucky! The Winter Soldier program was in operation. SHIELD tried to get someone to stop both of the Starks from going out that night, but they wouldn’t listen! This wasn’t your fault. If you didn’t kill them, someone else would.” 

She hugged the soldier to her, letting him hold her, letting her work her magic, her healing on him. She knew that soon, he’d push her away, but she also knew that she was prepared this time to go the full distance since Shuri deactivated the programming. When Bucky pulled back, Ael smiled up at him. “Hey, I brought something for you.” She pulled out a picture from her jacket. “You told me to hold onto this until it was time. It’s time, Bucky. Time for the cure.” 

Bucky looked at her. “You’re sure?” She nodded and gestured to the couch. “It’s not going to be easy. I have to heal and rectify the good and bad, but yes, the programming is gone thanks to my adopted sister, a genius that makes Stark look like a baby.” Bucky’s laughter was all Ael needed to hear. 

Sitting next to him, she started. “Look at the picture of you and Steve. He’s waiting, you know? When you wake up, he’s waiting near me. He’s been in Wakanda waiting for you to be healed. Let’s begin and make your friend a happy man.” 

Bucky nodded and Ael started singing, touching his face from the third eye, to his lips, to his temples, even his chest, emphasizing each memory, good, bad, indifferent, putting them in order, helping them to be just memories, none that could harm him, nothing that could give him nightmares as she took all his pain, all the suffering from him. This she would do for the man who hurt so many, yet when he could, saved so many others. That was their secret.

He fought his programming for years on and off, when he did, she would help save his intended victims, relocating them, giving them new names, new identities, and convincing those who ordered the hits that they were gone. Ael would not let him keep the guilt any longer. He deserved to live free and clear, to be the warrior and patriot she knew him to be. Finally, she kissed him gently, causing him to open his eyes. “Hey, there, handsome. It’s almost time to wake up in the real world. You ready?” 

Bucky inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “I’m still missing my arm, aren’t I?” He looked to where his left arm was wrapped around her. She nodded. “Yes, but if I know my sister, Shuri, I won’t think it’ll be for long. How do you feel, Bucky? Still having Winter Soldier sensations?” 

“None. I mean, I feel the strength, the power, the stuff that Steve spoke about being Captain America, but none of the bad aspects anymore. What did you do, Ael?” 

“What I’m mean to do, Bucky.” Ael kissed his temple. “Wake up, time to come home and see your friend. Wake up, Bucky.” 

********

Ael bent over Bucky, kissed his temple, “Wake up, Bucky. You have someone waiting to see you.” His eyes fluttered open and she smiled softly. “Hey, handsome, welcome back to the world. I think you have a friend waiting to say hello.” She released his restraints, gesturing to Steve Rogers. Stepping back, Ael grabbed the desk, her knuckles going white. She’d overdone it, but it was worth it. She placed the picture of Bucky and Steve into Bucky’s hand as Bucky stood up. 

“Steve? What are you doing here?” Bucky looked back at Ael, who gestured for him to go to his friend. He looked to his friend, hesitant, but happy. 

“Bucky! You’re okay?” Steve stepped forward, grabbing Bucky and hugging him. “You’re back, right? Completely you again?” 

“Yeah, whatever they’ve done, no more impulses from anyone else but me.” Bucky turned to Ael, but she was carefully making her way out the door, giving them time alone. “She’s not okay, Steve. Ael took away all the bad shit. She’s in agony right now. We can’t let her just go like this.” 

Steve looked at his friend, then to the doorway. “You sure?” 

“Trust me, I know this woman. I owe her my life a few times over. She’s not just a healer, Steve. She’s an empath. She takes your pain as her own.” Bucky turned to the door as Steve did, both going after Ael. 

As they went through the doorway, Ael started to turn a corner, then slid down, her legs going out from under her. She tried to stand up, but her legs kept giving out as Bucky and Steve rushed to her side. She waved them away. “No! You two have much to talk about. I’m fine. I just lost my balance.” 

Bucky turned her chin to have her look at him. “Lozh', tselitel'? Ael, you know better than to lie to me.” He gestured to Steve to pick her up. “She has a room somewhere, I bet. Is T’Challa around?” 

The King and Shuri rushed to them. “Dammit, Ael, I’ve told you before to not do this to yourself. You cannot drain yourself to this level, especially when you won’t go to the Order for teaching.” He nodded to Steve and Bucky. “Thank you, both. Follow me, I’ll show you to her room. My sister is a stubborn one.” 

Ael glared at T’Challa. “Not any more stubborn than you, Shuri or Nakia. Okoye has been updating me on your latest adventures, Ubhuti. Not to mention what M’Baku had to say.” Ael laid back against Steve’s shoulder. “If you could please put me down, I can walk, Steve.” 

“Your brother would kill me, so no.” Steve and Bucky followed the royal siblings into an elevator and they emerged into a corridor where Ael suddenly went very still. “T’Challa, no. I refuse this. Let me go room with the Dora Milaje.” 

“You have a perfectly acceptable room, Ael. You will use it.” T’Challa pointed out the door with a white owl on it. “Please, Steve. This is her suite. Ael hates being here because then she’s taken care of.” 

“Treated like a sacrificial cow.” Ael grumbled, as Steve placed her on the blue couch in her rooms. “Thank you, Steve. Ubhuti, I’m not staying. If the rumours I hear are true about war coming, I need to go home.” 

“Where’s home?” Steve asked. 

“New York. I’m a nurse practioner there. There will be so many people at risk, I can’t just leave them.” Ael stared out the window. “I know I owe my life to Wakanda too, brother, but I’ve paid my debts.” 

T’Challa nodded. “Yet, you will always answer the call, as you always do.” He pointed to the bracelet on her wrist. “Shuri provided you with the newest toy of hers?” 

“Did I have a choice?” Ael smiled. “Shuri loves giving me tech. In turn, I give her what she needs to keep people healthy here, healing crystals.” Ael pointed to the pile sitting on the table. “Those are for Shuri. I spent time collecting them and prepping them while I was here. They’re ready for what comes.” 

T’Challa nodded. Bucky leaned over Ael, kissing her cheek. “We will talk some time soon, Ael. You took on too much.” 

Ael sighed. “Sure thing, Ingcuka.”

The others left the room, leaving Shuri and Ael alone. Shuri sighed. “He is a white wolf, isn’t he? Will he be okay?” 

“He needs time to adjust to people and to real life. You can help with that, Shuri.” Ael stretched her arms over her head. “I have to get out of here. Ubhuti cannot keep me here.” 

“You have a new flitter. Nakia and Okoye made sure you were given one after all you did in the south and in the mountains.” Shuri made a face. Ael laughed. “Ael, seriously, you do more than is necessary.” 

“I’m the face of the family, Shuri. You all are the royals from afar. I’m the one who cannot inherit the throne. I’m the little white child who almost got eaten by the Wakandan panther.” Ael slowly stood up, making her way to the kitchenette. “I go to the tribes to cement relations because healers cannot be touched.” 

“They’ve tried to kill you.” Shuri stomped her foot. “T’Challa still hasn’t forgiven some of the tribes for that, even when father did.” 

“T’Chaka was smart to do so. In turn, I gained their respect by not turning over who hurt me. But I also made those men impotent, so they could not procreate their hate further.” Ael smiled. “Sometimes the power of the healer is what people believe can be done. In my case, it’s the fact of what they’ve seen me do, even at my own cost, Shuri. It’s what keeps peace.” 

“Don’t like it. T’Challa says it’s selling your soul, even if he renews it every year at mother’s wish.” Shuri sighed. “I want you here because you want to be here.” 

“I do want to be here. But I also serve where I’m needed, Shuri. Just like you and the other Wakandans are now doing. I just started earlier than you, that’s all.” Ael kissed her sister on the forehead. “You are a brilliant woman, Shuri. One day, you will make a brilliant queen. But let’s hope it won’t be for many years to come, right?” 

“Right.” Shuri smiled and helped Ael to make some food, knowing that her sister would be leaving soon after, before T’Challa could deny her. “You know he’ll be pissed.” 

“That’s why I have you and the Dora Milaje to run interference.” Ael smiled. “Otherwise, I’d have to fight him. That wouldn’t be fun nor fair for anyone.” 

“You’d lose.” 

“No, actually, I’d win, Shuri.” Ael looked out at the sky. “I’d win because unlike my brother, I’m willing to do whatever is necessary, including cheat to make sure I’m free.” Ael looked at Shuri. “I have to get home. Gram is dead, has been for a while now. But more importantly, something keeps telling me, I need to go home, I need to be in New York. I need to heed this, okay?” 

Shuri nodded. “But if we need you?” 

“I will be here. You are family, just like Shelly, Bast, Reed, and Sue. Family before anything and anyone.” Ael hugged Shuri. “This I swear. I just don’t know why, but this is important, sister.” 

“Then I’ll set you up with some goodies to help you.” Ael smiled and nodded. Shuri went out of the suite and Ael looked around. Soon she’d leave, and the sooner she left, the safer it would be for everyone here. 

“

[renaroo]

Wednesday Roundups 7/6/17

Wow I had a lot to read and I still managed to turn it out faster than I turn out about 90% of these which I’m not sure if it’s a reflection on my reading and writing skills getting better or if I was stressing out over doing these way too much in the past. 

Regardless, we have quite a variety this week and still seem to be celebrating Wonder Joy so let’s just get into it~

DC’s Batman, Creator Owned CBLDF Defender, Marvel’s Spider-Man/Deadpool, DC’s Superman, IDW’s Transformers: Lost Light, DC’s Wonder Woman FCBD, DC’s Wonder Woman: Steve Trevor, Viz’s Yona of the Dawn

DC’s Batman (2016-present) #24 Tom King, David Finch, Danny Miki, Clay Mann, Seth Mann, Jordie Bellaire

Okay, so I follow Batman at a distance because I’ll be completely honest: Tom King absolutely lost me with the Gotham and Gotham Girl plot because I just could not get into it, and it annoyed me, so I’ve been hands off with the title for the most part, a decision I only double downed on with the Catwoman debacle and my correct assumption in King really relying too heavily on TWISTS. a

.... 

But I absolutely picked up this issue because even if nothing in my thinking brain believes, at all, that this will be allowed to change the status quo between Bruce and Selina...

I love BatCat so much you guys.

He proposed. And I bought it purely for those pages.

I have to emphasize it was for those pages alone because I could not have cared less about Claire and Bruce’s conversation because I’m just so tired of how many people there are in Gotham and how this conversation would have been so much more meaningful if it came from Kate or Dick or Tim or Cass or Duke or Harper or Damian or Julia or Luke or Jean Paul or Leslie or -- THERE ARE SO MANY BAT CHARACTERS THAT ARE NOT BEING USED TO THEIR FULL POTENTIAL RIGHT NOW DAMMIT.

The conversation itself is kinda stuff we’ve heard before, and while I like how it tied in thematically it just wasn’t in me to not criticize the fact that it’s coming from the current OC of the Day. 

Anyway. 

I came for the BatCat and I was happy for it even if it was basically only three issues and I had to deal with grown artists making Gotham GIrl’s skirt incredibly short while she was in weird positions for most of it. 

So. That’s my take on that.

Now I can write 3 million fics about how this could be wonderful and that Helena Wayne gets to grow up with all her siblings and be loved by the world. byyyyeeeeeeee

Creator Owned CBLDF Defender Vol. 2 #2 Marc Adreyko, Gene Luen Yang

So this is mostly just an addition at the last minute both because it’s free and because it’s, well, an information brochure about uniting to subscribe or pledge money to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund for all those who have been encouraged into activism thanks to recent events and the collective consciousness surrounding events like last year’s Pulse nightclub shooting.

It’s a good idea and it’s pro-community messaging speaks to me. I’d like to spread awareness for people that these voices are out there and that if you’re interested in providing support you can check out this particular brochure on Comixology for free or google at your leisure.

Marvel’s Spider-Man/Deadpool Vol. 2: Side Pieces Scott Aukerman, Gerry Duggan, Penn Jillette, Nick Giovannetti, Paul Scheer, Joshua Corin, Reilly Brown, Scott Koblish, Todd Nauck, Tigh Walker

Okay, so... I like Spider-Man/Deadpool’s first arc... but it’s pretty much exactly like Trinity over at DC and it’s spiritual predecessors Batman/Superman and Superman/Batman in that, outside of what’s honestly a pretty stellar initial premise, there is not a whole lot of plan behind where the comic wants to go for the future. 

So you get a whole lot of different creative teams and no cohesive narrative or direction for the comic to go. 

But I guess that really brings into question what makes ongoing comics work and whether or not th idea of “hilarious monthly team ups of Spider-Man and Deadpool without a point, and assumedly without continuity consequences” is enough to work. 

And as someone who honestly really enjoys one-shot one-and-dones, that’s honestly a pass for me. 

But at the same tim... I mean there’s a reason I have both Spider-Man/Deadpool and Trinity on trade wait status now. 

The whole is not equivalent to the sum of its parts, but honestly it’s got some genuinely funny and worthwhile parts as it stands. And I appreciate that. 

DC’s Superman (2016-present) #24 Patrick Gleason, Peter J. Tomasi, Doug Mahnke, Jaime Mendoza, Mick Gray, Joe Prado, Wil Quintana, John Kalisz

You know, sometimes being a comic fan is kind of like reading the newspaper more than reading a narrative story. 

For me that’s kinda what this issue felt more like, I was getting information on where all the characters had moved since last time, the motivations, some backstories. Slight progress and movement in the form of an update on what happened to Lois and getting to see her still kicking Clark’s ass in gear despite his concern for her injury, which I liked, but overall this issue mostly felt like filler for the final moment where we see Jon fall completely into the control of Manchester Black. 

Who... is a big whooping plot hole I am stil waiting to be addressed. Clark remembers Manchester Black from the New Earth continuity still and the “What’s So Funny About Truth, Justice, and the American Way?” and knows about the Elite, but do they know about him? Or are they completely different from the Super Elite we knew? Are we going to get a Justice League Elite mention (which good god please spare me, though I’ll take Sister Superior). 

This is one of those cases where I feel like my overly extensive knowledge of things in continuity actually puts me at a disadvantage to actually like... reading and taken things for granted. 

I want things to make sense, or I want enjoyable Kent family shenanigans. 

But this issue did have Krypto so, I automatically add a star to it. Sorry, I don’t make the rules. 

IDW’s Transformers: Lost Light (2016-present) #6 James Roberts, Jack Lawrence, Joanna Lafuente

Look, sometimes I think it’s important for critics, reviewers, readers, what have you, to bea ble to say that they’re confused and don’t know what emotion to feel or whether or not the comic accomplished exactly what it wanted to and I’m just. Like. 

Yes that is my emotion at the moment.

A lot of stuff happened in this issue. Like lots of crazy, out there, amazing stuff was packed into a single issue and it’s like, there were panels where you’d blink and you’d miss important character development notes -- like Ratchet hugging their Rung once they got back. Like there’s so much good -- Rodimus had a lot of amazing moments throughout and I love the range of humor to anger to disappointment that he showed. Like his trust and faith in others is already pretty shattered at the moment and to feel Megatron’s apparent betrayal adding onto that is like a million times more stuff. I fear he’s nearing a very dangerous ledge, which is bad because this issue also tells us that Rodimus’ death wish and lowkey desire to put himself in dangerous positions to die heroically is still as prominent as ever. 

Someone hug my trash fire of a son, please.

And then magical girlfriend romance bringing back her girlfriend as a baby and it’s kinda weird like is it still going to be the same Lug? Does Anode acknowledge that it’s weird? Is anyone going to point out that they could feasibly use protoform matter now to resurrect anyone whose spark remnants are available now? Including Skids and Ravage?

what is going on

Anyway. 

There’s a lot packed into this issue which is why I am honestly kind of happy that next issue’s description is a “fallout” from this because holy shit, I need room to breathe and think through things.

Also. Dat smile when Megatron heard Optimus’ voice in the epilogue-ish finale. I like. Maybe had a fangirl moment. Just maybe. 

Anyway. I’m shrug emoji right now until I can get my emotional state sorted out because wow there’s a lot at the moment. Like a lot. A lot a lot.

DC’s Wonder Woman FCBD 2017 Special Edition (2017-present) #1 Greg Rucka, Nicola Scott, Romulo Fajarado Jr.

Like last week’s Wondy special, this is a reprint, but it’s a reprint of the first issue of “Year One” which still holds up as the far superior of the two starting Wonder Woman titles from Rucka last year and is amazingly well held up...

...save of course for the exact same criticisms as the last time I went over the issue which is Dead Bro Walking trope and a whole lot of Rucka Why???? that comes attached to the really bizarre treatment of race in the first arcs of the series. It’s just so bizarre.

But honestly, again, these moves are meant to attract the new, excited audience after the box office smash that has been the Wonder Woman movie -- an audience that has been largely female of all ages. And if there’s one free comic I’m glad will show up immediately on their google searches this Wednesday, I’m very glad it’s going to be the start of what has quickly become my favorite standard bearer of Wonder Woman’s origin story. 

Something I appreciate even more after having finally read the entirety of Azzarrello’s Wondy run which. Eck. Wash my mouth out. 

DC’s Wonder Woman: Steve Trevor (2017) #1 Tim Seeley, Christian Duce, Allen Passalaqua

So this addition to my pull was kind of unexpected in that I had no idea that it was coming out this week and thought “why not” because I’m literally still so Wonderfully Pumped Up a the moment and as far as I can see, the more proceeds DC and WB can see attributed to Wonder Woman the better.

That being said, Tim Seeley really dug into his Grayson roots in this one because that’s about the only thing I really got from this issue is that Steve Trevor’s a badass secret agent with secrets and a deep seeded guilt thing. Which kinda felt like a harsher toned take on his Dick Grayson more than anything else. Which is fine.

Part of the problem here is that I did not read the New52 short term published book that was A.R.G.U.S. or whatever where Steve starred during the weird interim where Steve was not allowed around Diana and Lois wasn’t allowed around Clark but DC still wants to make money from fans anyway.

idk. And since those kinds of spy books are rarely my cup of tea, I don’t think this issue sold me on renigging on that instinct.

Still it was cute and Diana and Steve’s interactions, while minimal, are really the driving portion of his narrative which I think is always good.

But, just like the Annual, I’m left just sitting here going “why don’t we use this opportunity to show off the upcoming Wonder Woman creative team, DC????”

And I get no answer bc DC actually doesn’t care about some weirdo random blogger on the internet constantly screaming at them.

Viz’s Yona of the Dawn (2009-present) Vol. 6 Mizuho Kusanagi

I have actually been very interested in Akatsuki no Yona since I saw its anime show up in my Crunchyroll feed, and as with most anime I can’t help but immediately try to find the manga instead because I am impatient and want Answers Now. As I understand it, the Viz official translations are far behind the current run of the manga (makes sense, as the manga series has been ongoing since 2009 in Japan), and is only catching up to where the anime left off so far, but that’s more than okay for me right now.

Because oh my gosh, it’s so amazing to read such a beautiful story about the growth, empowerment, and pure will of a female character as told by a female author and artist. I’m not the biggest fan of Shoujo as a style of art, but having Yona strike a balance between beautiful and cutesy visuals with what is ultimately a fairly action driven plot with intense moral posturing and constant detail put into the grayness of life’s choices makes Yona of the Dawn honestly unlike just about any Shoujo I’ve read before. 

Yona is one of the most compelling heroines I’ve ever seen, and her intensity of spirit and her meaningful examination of her kingdom makes this fairy tale story really unlike anything else out there. 

And while I’ve really enjoyed Yona to this point, I have to say it is an amazing relief to reach Volume 6 an finally get more female characters than just Yona. I like the reverse harem appeal of the cast as it has been so far, and I have affection for several of the boys, but man is it so much more meaningful to have a few more compelling female characters backing up Yona in the representation department.

Especially since some of Yona’s crew still feel... a little bland to me. It’s usually not a good sign in a massive cast when the traits that come immediately to mind for me are purely character design. 

I’m excited for what’s to come and to see how our Princess fully realizes her potential as the Crimson Dragon. 

Also I should note some skeevy parts of this. One I don’t mind but am sure other people might, there’s the fact that Yona’s current storyline is dealing with Yona taking down a ring of human traffickers and slavers, which brings up the question of autonomy both for Yona as a woman in this honestly pretty traditionally sexist kingdom but also for the Dragons themselves and how their “service” to Yona is framed as a question of their own will. But it’s still a story about human trafficking and that could bother a lot of people. Another thing in this volume, which has bothered me in the previous volumes but really came to a head this time around, is Hak’s... weirdly possessive outbursts toward Yona. I get that they are meant as... idk protective and romantic to some and that we’re supposed to be compelled by his struggle to not show his affection for Yona, but honestly I’m just kinda... naw hoss. Like Hak’s a fine character and I like his relationship and history with Yona most of the time, but like.. the weird pushing her against walls and... licking honey off of her wrists and just. idk. We’re lost in translation here or something bc I’m not a fan.

I’m also not a fan of Viz’s weird changes in the font randomly throughout the book? Like just stop. It’s bad when your translations look lazier than the fan translations I’ve seen floating around on tumblr.

I’ll be honest, as high quality as I consider almost all of these comics this week, I would say the good majority of them did not give me a fully emotional experience or really captivate me in a way that satisfied me from start to finish. And I’m sure in the follow up issues to come there’ll be a lot for me to question into why that might be for the majority of them, but that time is not now. So, as much as it may feel like cheating to pick a volumed book over single issues, I can’t help but say that Yona of the Dawn by far is my pick of the week. It delighted, it changed up its structure and storytelling, built out its world and has started spending more time on the titular characters where before it often felt like we were just taking for granted that there was a dragon gained every volume. And Yona herself is just one of the most satisfying characters to see grow into their own. 

But that’s just my opinion, I’d love to hear what you all think. Agree? Disagree? Think I missed a great comic this week? Please let me know!

[easynaturalhairstyle]

14 Stunning examples of auburn hair

Auburn hair is a combination of the boldness and warmth of red and the natural tones of brown. This rich blend of sexy colors creates a hue that is not too heavy and dark and totally revives a look! The special feature of this chocolaty shade is its shine, which turns any hair, whether textured or smooth, automatically into a multi-dimensional hair, so it's super easy to style!

Maroon hair color tips

Zendaya, Ashley Graham and Miranda Kerr have all been seen at various gala events that rocked this sexy hue and that makes it very hard not to fall in love with him! Balayage artist Macy of Color & Co. The beauty salon in Florida proves just how versatile this shade is with its chart creations on IG!

Your undertone says a lot if you are looking for the most flattering chestnut hair umbrella for you. As a rule of thumb, opposites complement each other – warm undertones go great with cool reddish-brown tones and vice versa. Opt for a massive auburn hair for a natural-looking and shiny finish, or try highlights or an ombre that adds even more definition to your look!

You'll be surprised how much you can do with this appealing hue, and this updated album of chestnut hair will make you fall in love with him!

Golden chestnut

How would you describe this look?

What I like about this color is its subtle soft demotion, which is also very technical.

After using an L'Oreal Pro French Balayage, I applied a Diarichesse toner in S24 that gives the style a hot / cold look. Then I continued to style the hair with waves that were achieved with a Babyliss per styling stick for a soft, natural look.

Any advice for someone considering it?

My beauty tip to achieving this highlighted maroon look is to start with hair that has a medium brown base.

This is a look for all women who are demanding or casual in their daily lives.

To get this look at home, I recommend the brand Reflection by Kerastase. Continuous care leads to healthy hair growth!

Medium maroon

How would you describe this look?

This is a lively chestnut hair color. My favorite thing about Kendyll's tone-on-tone hair is that it looks natural and effortless, even though she spent hours in my chair! Many brunettes tend to fall flat and have no depth, but with a simple balayage and glaze they too can have a beautiful multidimensional color. I gave her a simple round hair blower to emphasize her layers and the style I gave her.

Any advice for someone considering it?

Here we go! It is low maintenance and easy! For occasional regrowth Balayage must be maintained only a few times a year. It's still a professional look without being boring!

As far as the haircut is concerned, daily care is entirely up to the customer. A little surf spray and textured cream are ideal for a wash and go look – especially in the hot summer months when hair dryers are out of the question. Because if you want it jooj or a polished look, I reach for a voluminous mousse, a dry cream, a round brush and off you go!

Ash chestnut brown

How would you describe this look?

This shade is inspired by one of the top ten colors that characterize New York Fashion Week 2019, Spring Summer Collections – Toffee. However, I made some slight adjustments by raising the ash content and bringing it closer to a chestnut hue to eliminate the impudence that prevails in my client's hair. To give it more depth and gradient, I have balayed the hair before toning with Goldwell Silk Lift Lightener. This also creates the illusion of a fuller hair.

My favorite thing about this hair color is that it's neither too cool nor too warm. This means that it is an extremely safe and neutral hair color as it complements almost every skin type and color. Besides, the maintenance is easy. Just use an ash shampoo (blue) and let it work for 5 minutes daily.

Any advice for someone considering it?

This is a classic and timeless hair color that will never go wrong, regardless of job, personality and style. The 2 skin types that should avoid chestnut hairs are almond and chestnut skin tone. Choosing a hair color that is extremely close to your skin tone and shade will make you look dull and tired. It will not complement your functions in any way.

After all, always remember to combine your eyebrow colors with your new maroon hair color.

Dark chestnut with blond highlights

How would you describe this look?

This look is a warm, rich maroon color with caramel highlights. I was inspired by the fascinating brown tones of the woody chestnut tree. The highlights that result from the imitation of the wood grain. She has long mixed and minimal layers. I styled it with waves with a flat iron and combed it lightly to merge and reinforce all the colors. I love the shine and the warm brown hair shines throughout!

Any advice for someone considering it?

This warm, shiny, maroon hair color looks great on olive and warm skin, but can be completely modified to give it a cooler tone that will match your complexion. This would complement any eye color or face shape. If your natural color comes close to it, it can be very easy and easy to care for. The highlights are lower and more ombré, giving it a vivid and natural look. This will allow more time between hair dyeings. This look is perfect for those who want a natural but effortlessly polished hairstyle!

Maroon with highlights

A waxed brown on wavy, long hair is the combination for every woman who wants to make an appearance.

Bright chestnut hair color

A bronzed look like this is a sight for sore eyes. Of course, and yet out there, try it and see how you shine in toasted hair color.

Deep chocolate brown hair with chestnut highlights

Dark brown hair is extravagant, but in combination with almond highlights it makes the look all the more appealing.

Dark hair with bright chestnut highlights

Brown lights match every hair color and length. Such a dark hair like this would certainly show a deep bronze accent.

Balayage of chestnuts and blonde

The contrast of this color is stunning! Ideal for multi-layered hair like this asymmetrical bob.

dark chestnut

Seems like it was just roasted fresh on open fire. This luxurious color with these big waves is your ticket to a great night out.

Warm golden chestnut

This full fringe and asymmetrical bob is ideal for ladies with a rounder face shape. This look will frame your face and enhance your beautiful facial features.

Red-brown chestnut

At home, experiment with Box Hair Dye or experiment with a professional in the salon. Either way, this frequent favorite will make you look crackling.

Dark to light chestnut almond flavor

A typical brunette color with a shiny touch. Big waves on long hair make this hairstyle a 10 out of 10.

Chestnut hair with balayage

Look at this beautiful cherry chocolate color! The staining technique used contained the colors to give this reddish brown offspring.

14 Stunning examples of auburn hair

[qualitytacolover]

14 Stunning examples of auburn hair

New Post has been published on https://www.easypromhairstyles.com/14-stunning-examples-of-auburn-hair.html

14 Stunning examples of auburn hair

Auburn hair is a combination of the boldness and warmth of red and the natural tones of brown. This rich blend of sexy colors creates a hue that is not too heavy and dark and totally revives a look! The special feature of this chocolaty shade is its shine, which turns any hair, whether textured or smooth, automatically into a multi-dimensional hair, so it's super easy to style!

Maroon hair color tips

Zendaya, Ashley Graham and Miranda Kerr have all been seen at various gala events that rocked this sexy hue and that makes it very hard not to fall in love with him! Balayage artist Macy of Color & Co. The beauty salon in Florida proves just how versatile this shade is with its chart creations on IG!

Your undertone says a lot if you are looking for the most flattering chestnut hair umbrella for you. As a rule of thumb, opposites complement each other – warm undertones go great with cool reddish-brown tones and vice versa. Opt for a massive auburn hair for a natural-looking and shiny finish, or try highlights or an ombre that adds even more definition to your look!

You'll be surprised how much you can do with this appealing hue, and this updated album of chestnut hair will make you fall in love with him!

Golden chestnut

How would you describe this look?

What I like about this color is its subtle soft demotion, which is also very technical.

After using an L'Oreal Pro French Balayage, I applied a Diarichesse toner in S24 that gives the style a hot / cold look. Then I continued to style the hair with waves that were achieved with a Babyliss per styling stick for a soft, natural look.

Any advice for someone considering it?

My beauty tip to achieving this highlighted maroon look is to start with hair that has a medium brown base.

This is a look for all women who are demanding or casual in their daily lives.

To get this look at home, I recommend the brand Reflection by Kerastase. Continuous care leads to healthy hair growth!

Medium maroon

How would you describe this look?

This is a lively chestnut hair color. My favorite thing about Kendyll's tone-on-tone hair is that it looks natural and effortless, even though she spent hours in my chair! Many brunettes tend to fall flat and have no depth, but with a simple balayage and glaze they too can have a beautiful multidimensional color. I gave her a simple round hair blower to emphasize her layers and the style I gave her.

Any advice for someone considering it?

Here we go! It is low maintenance and easy! For occasional regrowth Balayage must be maintained only a few times a year. It's still a professional look without being boring!

As far as the haircut is concerned, daily care is entirely up to the customer. A little surf spray and textured cream are ideal for a wash and go look – especially in the hot summer months when hair dryers are out of the question. Because if you want it jooj or a polished look, I reach for a voluminous mousse, a dry cream, a round brush and off you go!

Ash chestnut brown

How would you describe this look?

This shade is inspired by one of the top ten colors that characterize New York Fashion Week 2019, Spring Summer Collections – Toffee. However, I made some slight adjustments by raising the ash content and bringing it closer to a chestnut hue to eliminate the impudence that prevails in my client's hair. To give it more depth and gradient, I have balayed the hair before toning with Goldwell Silk Lift Lightener. This also creates the illusion of a fuller hair.

My favorite thing about this hair color is that it's neither too cool nor too warm. This means that it is an extremely safe and neutral hair color as it complements almost every skin type and color. Besides, the maintenance is easy. Just use an ash shampoo (blue) and let it work for 5 minutes daily.

Any advice for someone considering it?

This is a classic and timeless hair color that will never go wrong, regardless of job, personality and style. The 2 skin types that should avoid chestnut hairs are almond and chestnut skin tone. Choosing a hair color that is extremely close to your skin tone and shade will make you look dull and tired. It will not complement your functions in any way.

After all, always remember to combine your eyebrow colors with your new maroon hair color.

Dark chestnut with blond highlights

How would you describe this look?

This look is a warm, rich maroon color with caramel highlights. I was inspired by the fascinating brown tones of the woody chestnut tree. The highlights that result from the imitation of the wood grain. She has long mixed and minimal layers. I styled it with waves with a flat iron and combed it lightly to merge and reinforce all the colors. I love the shine and the warm brown hair shines throughout!

Any advice for someone considering it?

This warm, shiny, maroon hair color looks great on olive and warm skin, but can be completely modified to give it a cooler tone that will match your complexion. This would complement any eye color or face shape. If your natural color comes close to it, it can be very easy and easy to care for. The highlights are lower and more ombré, giving it a vivid and natural look. This will allow more time between hair dyeings. This look is perfect for those who want a natural but effortlessly polished hairstyle!

Maroon with highlights

A waxed brown on wavy, long hair is the combination for every woman who wants to make an appearance.

Bright chestnut hair color

A bronzed look like this is a sight for sore eyes. Of course, and yet out there, try it and see how you shine in toasted hair color.

Deep chocolate brown hair with chestnut highlights

Dark brown hair is extravagant, but in combination with almond highlights it makes the look all the more appealing.

Dark hair with bright chestnut highlights

Brown lights match every hair color and length. Such a dark hair like this would certainly show a deep bronze accent.

Balayage of chestnuts and blonde

The contrast of this color is stunning! Ideal for multi-layered hair like this asymmetrical bob.

dark chestnut

Seems like it was just roasted fresh on open fire. This luxurious color with these big waves is your ticket to a great night out.

Warm golden chestnut

This full fringe and asymmetrical bob is ideal for ladies with a rounder face shape. This look will frame your face and enhance your beautiful facial features.

Red-brown chestnut

At home, experiment with Box Hair Dye or experiment with a professional in the salon. Either way, this frequent favorite will make you look crackling.

Dark to light chestnut almond flavor

A typical brunette color with a shiny touch. Big waves on long hair make this hairstyle a 10 out of 10.

Chestnut hair with balayage

Look at this beautiful cherry chocolate color! The staining technique used contained the colors to give this reddish brown offspring.

[autobot-scout-riella]

(Made some slight updates to my rules page, mostly because I constantly think of good phrasing after I write the page in the first place. No substantial changes, pretty much just emphasizing a few things and rewording others.)