#so I just have that rule carry over to my actual art too

[kxsagi]

HELLO MY BESTIE!! 🫶🏻 ihope everything is going well!

the guy who has been in a relationship for a long time but kept it secret so that no one knows, had a football match again. it was a very important and crowded match. victorrryyy at the end of the match!! after all, the same football player who showed off his girlfriend with great excitement at the end of the match. IN FRONT OF EVERYONE... maybe a hug or a kiss scene in the heat of the moment?? CAN I ESPECIALLY REQUEST THE ITOSHI BROTHERS?? if it's a problem for you, no problem at all!! have a good day <3

“𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞”

a/n: HIII LOVE! everything is going good and i hope it's the same, if not better, for you, too! have a good day as well and thank you for your request ❤️🤭

(don't know art credits so sorry)

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae

itoshi rin

you’d always known rin was quiet about his personal life. not just private, but secretive. he never gave the media anything. not a crumb. you could be sitting on his lap feeding him strawberries and he’d still deny your existence to the press with a deadpan, “no comment.” 

so when you sit in the VIP seats of his final championship match, hood up, cap on, sunglasses hiding half your face, you think it’ll end the way it always does. he wins. waves to the crowd. vanishes into the tunnel. sends you a text later like “u here?” 

because rin itoshi is not the type to cause a scene. 

but today, apparently, is different. 

his team scores the winning goal in the last five minutes. the stadium erupts. he’s crowned man of the match, carried on shoulders, chants of his name bouncing off the walls. you stand up, clapping, heart full, proud and bursting and still tucked behind anonymity. 

until he finds you. 

like, actually finds you. 

your head turns when you hear his voice call your name. and not softly. not like a whisper. he yells it over the cheers, over the camera shutters. the crowd around you turns too, confused. 

and then he’s there. sweaty, flushed, glowing under stadium lights, grinning like he just broke every rule in the itoshi handbook. 

“come here,” he breathes. 

you hesitate. “rin?” 

he doesn’t let you finish. just pulls you into his arms like he’s been waiting years to do it. his hands lock around your waist, and your cap nearly falls off when he kisses you right in front of everyone. 

you swear time freezes. 

the camera flashes go wild. someone screams. a lady next to you gasps like she’s watching a k-drama in real time. 

rin pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. “i’m not hiding you anymore,” he says. “they can deal with it.” 

you blink. “are you okay?” 

he smirks. “never been better.” 

itoshi sae 

sae’s always been impossible to read. calm, cold, untouchable. the kind of guy who could be in love with you for ten years and still say “i don’t do PDA” like it’s a religion. 

which is why dating him has always felt like walking on a balance beam. you’ve learned to exist in the sidelines, in shadows. private dinners, blurry phone calls from different time zones, hidden hotel rooms. 

but tonight? 

tonight is the champions league final. 

and you’re in the stands again, just like always, not cheering too loudly, not standing out. you’d made peace with being invisible, because loving sae was worth it. 

his team wins 3–2. the stadium explodes with excitement. the players are hugging, crying, jumping all over each other. 

you expect him to smile slightly, do a post-match interview, maybe flick his hair and leave. 

but instead he walks right toward you. 

he cuts through security like it’s nothing. your eyes widen as he reaches the edge of the stands, and for a second, you think, nah. no way. not sae. 

“you,” he says, pointing straight at you. “come here.” 

you blink, frozen. “what–” 

he hops the barrier. climbs the damn rail. he doesn’t care about the fans yelling, or the staff chasing after him. he’s walking with tunnel vision, focused only on you. 

“sae, what are you doing–” 

“i won,” he says, pulling you down by the hand. “but i only want you.” 

and then, with the entire world watching, he wraps his arms around you and kisses you so hard, your brain short-circuits. 

his fingers grip your face like you’re the most important thing in the universe. like you were the goal all along. 

when he pulls away, the camera crews are practically drooling. 

he just shrugs. “if they didn’t know, now they do.” 

you stare at him, stunned. “you realize they’re going to replay that a thousand times, right?” 

he smirks, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “good. maybe they’ll finally stop asking if i’m single.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[fanged-fanfics]

Maybe for a part 2 of the doughbaby!reader, Shadow milk sneaks into their room at night to hangout with them, only to leave before pure vanilla walks in.

☆ Shadows On The Walls — Shadow Milk Cookie & Child!Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Platonic, Mild Angst || they/them pronouns for reader || Manipulative Shadow Milk warning

A/N: Okay technically this is actually part 3- (previous and start fics for context)

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

It was the night after your slightly discouraging art display, and you'd fallen asleep at your mini desk. The air was cool, with a slight wind blowing outside. You felt something shift, as if a weight had entered the air. Your eyes slowly blinked open, and you rubbed them with a yawn while hearing papers rustle. When your vision came in, a large shadow was standing beside your desk. Two shades of blue eyes looked down at you, and you gasped happily while sitting up "Shadow Cookie!"

"Thaaat's right!" The shadow replies, leaning forwards so he could come into view. Shadow Milk had been visiting for months now, and he noted as he saw the scattered pictures across your desk that it seemed his efforts were sucessful. He grinned widely, looking over your art in his hands "Did you make this, little puppet? I see a certain rougish devil made his appearance!". You giggled, reaching up as best you could to point to it "Yeah, yeah! But papa didn't seem to like it too much...". Your frown returned, and Shadow Milk gave a huge gasp "He didn't?! Well, the nerve! He must be blinder than I thought!". Your smile returned as you looked up at your 'imaginary' friend "Papa's just worried sometimes. But s'good that you like it!"

"Like it?! Why, little puppet, I love it! I'd hang this up in my spire" Shadow Milk declared, holding the drawing close to his chest. You got down from your chair, running over to him and grabbing his legs for a tight hug. Shadow Milk chuckled, placing a hand atop your head. "That papa of yours isn't very kind, is he?" Shadow Milk commented "How strange for a Cookie of truth to lie to his own kin!". "Lie?" You asked, pulling back with a confused expression "What do you mean?". "Oh, don't worry your poor little dough over it" Shadow Milk cooed, lifting you under your arms. He floated off of the ground, carrying you up before holding you tight to his chest.

"But- papa isn't supposed to lie" you frowned. "I know, but papa's don't always do as they're supposed to" Shadow Milk responded, a fake look of sympathy on his face. He pulled you in, nuzzling his cheek to yours "I'd never lie to you, you poor thing. We're good friends, right?". As he asked that last part, his grip on you tightened a little. You gave a nod "Yeah! Bestest friends!". Shadow Milk grinned widely, sharp teeth showing as he held you up above his head while he spun mid-air "That's right! Best as can be! And best friends always tell the truth"

You giggled at the motion, pulling yourself into his arms for a tight hug. It was refreshing to have a friend you could play with at all times, a silly jester who loves making you smile. You pulled back, chuckling with him before a knock came from your door. "Little sunflower? Are you awake" Pure Vanilla's voice called. Shadow Milk quickly placed you back down "That's my cue to exit the stage". You gave a little whine, tugging on the jester's sleeve "Do you have to?". "You know the rules" Shadow Milk replied. He watched as your head titled down, a sad pout on your face. He couldn't help but grin.

"Well, I was going to wait for a special occasion, but I suppose I can give you this now" Shadow Milk said, pulling something out. He handed you a small doll fashioned to look just like him, with big button eyes and a stitched smile. You squealed, holding it close to your chest "Thank you, Shadow Cookie! You're the best!"

"Sunflower? Who are you talking to?" Pure Vanilla called. Shadow Milk scowled, replacing it with a faux look of kindness as he leaned down to speak with you "I'll be back soon, don't worry" he said, before vanishing into the shadows. You felt your smile fall as you nuzzled into the doll he'd given you. You loved your papa, but it was disappointing how your friend always had to leave when he came by. And he said such odd things... what lies could he be talking about?

The door opened, Pure Vanilla hurriedly walking in. He waved his staff about a bit, hair a mess and breathing heavily. You walked up behind him, tugging on his robes. "Papa?" You asked, and the healer turned to you. He sighed with relief, kneeling down and wrapping an arm around you "What are you doing up so late? I thought someone had found you...". "I was jus' drawing, an' I fell asleep" you explained. Pure Vanilla pulled back, kissing your forehead "Of course, how silly of me. My little artist must have been hard at work". He lifted you up, balancing you in his arms "Come now, it's time for bed"

You let out a yawn, nuzzling into his chest. Soon enough, you were tucked into bed, Pure Vanilla making sure you were snugly covered in blankets. He'd noticed a flicker of something blue being closely squeezed in your arms. He tried to reach a hand out, but you'd turned away from him before he could see. "G'night, papa" you said. Pure Vanilla pulled back, that worried expression back on his face. "...Good night, my bluebird" he said, a little quietly.

He closed the door to your room upon exiting, that troubled expression now fully showing on his face. He could feel that presence. He kept having to look over his shoulders around the shadowy corners of his castle, fear gripping him tightly. Every inch of the hollow nooks felt like they were watching him. Waiting. Laughing.

"Elder Faerie will be here tomorrow... please, please, by all that is good, don't let my fears come true" Pure Vanilla thought to himself "You can have my kingdom, my title, my souljam.. just please.. don't take my little bluebird away from me". He began walking to his room, worriedly holding the handle of his staff. Daunting eyes watched him as he walked. "Oh, Silly Vanilly..." a voice whispered eerily in the darkness "Fighting so hard to protect his little family... pathetic". Shadow Milk morphed into the darkness, beginning his usual escape route back to the outside. Black Sapphire and Candy Apple stood in the royal garden, waiting for him.

"Count this night a success, my delightful little grubs" Shadow Milk said as he materialized. Candy Apple squealed "I knew it, I knew it! You're so strong, my lord!". Black Sapphire gave a little bow "All is in motion, just as requested". Shadow Milk grinned widely, a high giggle leaving him "Perfect, perfect! I can't wait to see their faces when it happens!". "Until then," Black Sapphire began, hopping up on his staff to float off of the ground "We have time left to plan". "Pssh, as if I need a plan" Shadow Milk said, beginning to walk away from the castle "Have faith, my minions. This isn't even the half of what's to come"

[machveil]

You should totally do like a how to draw Konig tutorial for one of ur daily sketches

Chibi or not

But u should totally do it

I neeeeeeeeed ur process

-🦥

notes below the cut - additional notes can be found in this post where I give art tips from my experience

daily König sketch with bonus content♥️‼️post is a little late but it’s due to the info dump below haha, anyways, he’s a little nervous

hi!! thanks for requesting a little “my process” thing - super happy to do one<3

I’ll be using these pieces of him that I’ve done to go over my notes - this is just how I go about drawing him. I’d definitely recommend also going through this post linked above too for additional info because a lot of it carries over!

I think the most important thing for me when drawing König is spacing out his hood ratios. I always start out by just drawing where his eyes and eyebrows are, then I draw the cut-outs around them. after that, I start the stitched neckline - that’s usually an eye hole’s width above his actual eyes, it gives a good allusion to where his forehead would be

they aren’t hard and fast rules I follow, more like a silent guideline that can be meddled with depending on the drawing. I usually follow them because, to me, it looks the best with how I draw him. it’s flexible - same with the sleeves, sometimes they end below his eye cut-outs, sometimes I cut them short and they’re higher

I thought I’d do a step-by-step for the hood folds because just info dumping all at once sounded confusing in my head

I start by just drawing lines down from the corners of his eye cut-outs, then I loosely draw a slanted line to show some bunching of the fabric. the slanted line is usually around where his collarbone would be

best way I can describe figure 2 is drawing folds in a ‘U’ shape. the fabric is falling from his head and ‘pooling’. the ‘U’ shape adds a little depth

miscellaneous little folds around the hem. they follow the way his hood rests, slanting downwards towards the center

if anything, just study how fabric falls and bunches up! a lot of drawing is looking at reference material to figure the ‘why’s and ‘what’s - “why do the folds bunch in certain areas?”, “why is fabric gathering in that area”, “what’s causing the fabric to move like that”, etc

lastly is his body, and as we know, I’m allergic to drawing clothing (read “lazy”). I actually really recommend looking at the post I linked above for this because, in the last figure, I show the Pinterest reference of the man who inspired my König’s body shape (and went into depth on using references)

for arms, in figure 1 and 2, you’ll see me draw an oval inside the bicep and forearm - those are just to add the allusion to muscle mass. if I don’t draw those ovals, to me, it looks a little flat. in figure 3 I go over his waistline because of course I do

I always account for a prominent rib cage line because I personally like drawing a more pronounced rib cage in general. after the ribcage, there’s a slight indent at the waist before it flares back out - that ‘flare out’ is the line for the Adonis belt. again, just personal preference, but I enjoy making the curves a little dramatic so they’re more pronounced and visually appealing to me

I don’t know how helpful that was but I hope I got some information across - uuh, even though I don’t draw his tactical gear and uniform that often the advice I can give is to just look at his model haha. the only gear that gives me a headache is his helmet, but even then I just bs my way through it

for chibi König I just shrink all his proportions and draw a stupid little t-shirt for his head<3 he doesn’t need to think, he’s just a cute little fella. I draw chibi König the way I would draw a puppy, make him look cute without a thought behind those eyes

for additional reference material here’s the link for my Pinterest - I have an absurd amount of reference material for you to browse through

hopefully this was slightly helpful?? I don’t know, as long as you get something out of this I’m happy

[pomefioredove]

My brain is kinda sluggish plus I'm indecisive but also i did like several of these (also if i need to divide up this post let me know)

I have no clue which i like best so i simply made a list but let me know if i need to chunk it up

For Riddle Rosehearts

"If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun." Or "I'm putting you on my to-do list."

For Vil Schoenheit

"Don't bite your lip, I want to do that."

For Ruggie

"You like me because I'm a scoundrel."

vil done here!

summary: "if you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun." type of post: short fic characters: riddle additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, maybe ooc, post book 1

You think it's a pretty pathetic sight, but you make no mention of it. Their egos are bruised enough as it is.

"How long?" you ask, sitting across from the shackled duo.

Ace knocks against the solid collar around his neck. "Not long... But we can't present like this,"

You were hoping he wouldn't say that.

And just a day after you told them not to do anything stupid this week, too...

Deuce says nothing; he's been sulking at the end of the table like a puppy with its tail between its legs for the entire lunch period.

"Have you tried reasoning?" you ask. "Maybe he can take them off for the presentation, then put them back on?"

Ace scoffs. "Reason? With Riddle?"

"I thought he was trying to be more lenient?"

"He is," Deuce mutters, hanging his head. "But that just means he only dishes out punishments when someone really deserves it..."

"It was just a stupid painting!" Ace says.

"That we set on fire!"

You look between the two as they bicker over the accident, bewildered by their lack of concern about where this puts you.

Ace and Deuce were supposed to perform the magical component of your defense project, while you and Grim presented. Now...?

You stand. "I'll talk to Riddle,"

Your friends share a pitiful look, but do nothing to stop you as you hurry out of the room.

Surely, Riddle will understand. He wouldn't let you suffer from Ace and Deuce's mistake!

"No," he says.

"But-"

Riddle beheads the wilting flower of a rose with a sharp snap of his shears. It tumbles into the underbrush.

"They destroyed a priceless piece of art. It was hundreds of years old!" he snaps, leaving no room for disagreement. "They should be thankful it's only a week."

He moves on to the next browning rose, inspecting its petals before decapitating it, too.

"But I didn't do anything. I told them not to do anything dumb, I tried to reason with them,"

"Reason? With Ace and Deuce?" he scoffs.

"I would recommend asking for an extension on your assignment until they've carried out their sentence,"

It's too late to ask for another week; he must know that. And you're not giving up so easily.

There must be something you can say...

"But it was an accident,"

Riddle scoffs. "Of course it was. And the rules clearly state that accidental arson of a painting more than three hundred years old must be punished by losing their heads,"

Rules. Great. This is quickly becoming a lost cause.

"There has to be some other way they can be punished," you say. "You said you weren't going to lose your head about these things anymore."

He sighs, rolling his eyes as if frustrated with you. "The rules-"

"Come on, Riddle- If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun!"

Riddle stops. For a moment, it's almost like... he's actually considering your offer.

"...What exactly did you have in mind?"

-

"This is what you call a compromise?!"

Ace's head of fiery hair pops up, the color a striking contrast against the green of the hedge maze.

You shrug. Riddle, sitting across from you as you watch the two tend to the shrubbery, almost giggles.

"The Prefect has been more than fair. If anything, you should be thanking them for the opportunity to end your punishment early," he says, pouring you another cup of tea.

Ace grumbles, scratching his neck under his collar.

Deuce nudges him, and the two get back to work on trimming the hedges, a puny pair of shears in each hand.

Riddle smiles. "I must say, I'm rather impressed by your persuasion skills. It's not often that I change the terms of a punishment after it's dealt,"

"Well, I didn't want to fail on their account,"

"I heard that!" Ace yells. Riddle grins again.

"Perhaps your ingenuity will inspire them, then," he hums, cupping his tea in his palms.

"In the meantime, I believe another tea party is in order for tomorrow afternoon- they have a lot of ground to cover. Care to join?"

[jeanforestauthor]

Hey, My Book is Great and You Should Read it For Free

Hi there! I wrote a book, and I want to let you read it for free!

In The Princess and the Peaches we follow Ethan, a young man with a lot of heart, and not much spine, who is struggling to run a small failing grocery store after the untimely death of his parents. Ethan also has the misfortune of being a thoroughly Normal Guy in a world where fairytales are far more fact than fiction.

Ethan has always lived with the understanding that magic was quite firmly None of his Business, but when a wayward Princess falls victim to a curse inside his shop, he is informed by an iron-fisted Fairy Godperson that it has suddenly become Entirely his Business.

As a result, Ethan is forced to deal with flirtatious dragons, sadistic Princes, and more than a few deep seated insecurities.

So, you may be wondering, if this book is so great, why is it free? Well, because of my burning resentment for the stranglehold of capitalism on the accessibility of art. Uh, Marketing... or something. The point is, I think my book rules, and I wanted it to find people who also thought it ruled, so here it is!

You can access it on multiple e-reading platforms, including Apple and Smashwords here:

Or on Google Play here:

If you STILL aren't totally convinced, that's cool! I generously put the first three chapters under a read-more so you can check them out without even having to leave the safe harbor of Tumblr.

Copyright © 2025 by Jean Forest

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. 

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover by Andrew Filion

First edition, 2025

Chapter 1

It was always the same dream.

For twenty-some years Ethan Green had enjoyed placid, peaceful sleep. He'd had boring, pointless dreams and loved it. Then everything had changed, and now, for four years, it had been the same stupid nightmare, every single night. He drifted through it, carried along in its insistent, unchanging rhythm.

He passed through the living room, warm and full of light. Meandered towards the door, his stride easy and unhurried. At this point, Ethan always somehow felt calm, even eager, despite knowing how this was inevitably going to end. Reflecting on it later, he knew it made a sad kind of sense. This was the only way he could see them now.

He heard them before he'd even reached the door. Laughter so deep and loud it sounded like trains passing outside the window. Then a quiet, lilting tone, rising and falling like birdsong.

With one twist of the handle, one swing of the door, he stepped out into the bright, sun drenched storefront, and for just a brief moment, everything felt right.

Ethan's gaze traveled over the deep velvety green of the walls, the worn pine floor, dappled with light. He looked at the big, arched windows, draped in the same old green gingham curtains, heard the quiet chatter of customers, and now, just like every time, he could swear he smelled the scent of sweet, ripe peaches.

And then came the moment he always anticipated. His view swept from the windows, to the neat, trim counter waiting at the front of the store, over the battered old till, up into the lively, animated face of his father.

He was exactly the way Ethan remembered him. Big as a bear and nearly as hairy, booming with laughter, his rough, calloused fingers almost too large for the spindly keys on the register. Ethan took in his twinkling eyes and crooked grin fervently, as if to fix every minute detail in his memory.

And then there, nestled in amongst the bins and barrels of fresh fruit was his mother, as small and willowy as his father was large, but no less intimidating. Her voice was bright, her movements brisk and efficient. Ethan watched her long, elegant hands tug trimly at the curtains and found himself remembering the way they'd often done the same at the collars of his shirts.

Ethan basked in this moment, like the sight of a sunset, brief and fleeting.

Because of course, it never lasted. It started with the windows, like Every. Single. Time. 

Small cracks, that began to spread, like ugly, spiraling spider webs, reaching greedily for the corners of the panes, until suddenly with a deafening crash, the air was full of cascading shards of glass.

As usual, his parents made no reaction, still cheerful, unshaken. Ethan always tried to reach them, even while knowing it was pointless.

"Dad!" He cried, working off the same unending script. "The windows! What's happening!?"

His father turned to him, a placid smile in place.

"It's alright, kiddo, don't worry. I know you can handle it." He replied in his deep, bass rumble.

Ethan stared down at his feet, shifting through the piles of shattered glass.

"But dad-"

Then the fruit would go. Where there was once jewel-bright piles of fresh, ripe produce, suddenly there would be putrid mounds of rotted fruit, their stench overpowering.

"Mom!? How did this-!?"

His mother would give him that soft, exasperated look, like he'd forgotten to comb his hair again.

"Ethan, it's okay, honey. We know you'll take care of it."

And then came the groaning, rending sound of splintering wood, and Ethan's heart would drop into his stomach. The long beams overhead would begin to tear, shaking dust from the ceiling. Every inch of the walls would begin to crack and buckle.

Ethan would look to his parents, still blissfully smiling back at him.

"Everything's falling apart! Can't you see it!? Come on, help me!" He'd cry.

"Ethan calm down," His mother would laugh, "Everything will be fine."

"Yeah kiddo," His father would add with a grin, "You'll just need to take care of it."

And like every time, Ethan would find himself brought up short, paralyzed. He'd stand in the midst of the destruction, his whole life going to ruins around him, and he'd be useless. 

"You can do it." His father would add, with such perfect, maddening certainty.

"But..." Ethan muttered, as always, his voice strangely clear among the chaos. "But I don't know how."

Ethan awoke, a few seconds before his alarm, like always, just a little too late to stop it from going off. It's grating, jangling tones piercing straight into the center of Ethan's brain.

He levered himself out of bed immediately. A Green did not snooze, he told himself wearily, not when there was work to be done. Ethan had never once in his life slept past the alarm and today was no exception. 

Groggily, he shuffled into the bathroom and stared at his reflection. There was that curly mop of comb-destroying hair. There were those same, tired brown eyes. A nose a little too long, a mouth a little too feminine, a frame far, far too scrawny.

Nothing new here.

He went through his usual routine, dressing in the same white shirt, and the same green slacks he wore just about every day of his adult life. He slipped on the same, stiff loafers, and then… Well, then the apron.

He'd thought he'd have gotten used to it by now. He'd seen it on his parents since he was a child. He'd worn it himself since he was a teenager. But somehow, it still managed to give him pause. Probably because it was hideous.

Family legend said that his great grandmother had chosen the color because it reminded her of springtime, of freshness. Most people Ethan knew would never in their wildest dreams have come to these associations. Looking at it, the words of Ethan's best friend ran through his head. 

"If that's fresh anything, it's fresh vomit. Unhealthy vomit. Go to the doctor, something's gone wrong, vomit."

But... It had been a family tradition for generations. It was the Green family's trademark.

And so, dutifully, Ethan put it on, tying it in a tight double knot, even though it made it near impossible to get off later. It was what he always did. It was how it had always been done.

With heavy feet, he trudged downstairs, into the living room.

In truth, it looked almost no different from his dreams. Everything was still in its place, untouched, as it had been for four years now. A few low couches, huddled around the room, a tall bookshelf standing sentinel in the corner, a battered TV sitting silent nearby. The same pictures, arrayed on the mantelpiece, familiar faces staring out. It was exactly the same, an almost perfect monument to the way things used to be... except.

It was so empty. Ethan had managed to preserve every inch of the room, as though nothing had changed, but somehow, like sand slipping through his fingers, he hadn't been able to keep the life that had once existed here, the almost palpable feel of warmth and joy. Now, absence seemed to hang like dust in the air. 

Well, that wasn't the only change. Slowly, Ethan made his way over to the bookshelf, and ran his fingers over the glossy, cool stone of the urn sitting high on its shelves. He muttered a quiet, customary, "Good morning." For a moment he forgot his rituals, forgot his duties, and let himself get lost.

The soft tinkle of the bell on the other side of the door jarred him out of his reverie though. There wasn't really time to pause, he reminded himself. With brisk, purposeful steps, he crossed the room and exited out of the dim, musty corners of his home, and into the bright halls of the storefront.

This too, like the living room, differed little from his dreams, although Ethan thought hopefully that the store at least, was less melancholy than the rest of the house. The soft light of sunrise was just filtering through the tall arched windows, catching in the gingham curtains, painting the pine floor. 

There was no boisterous, laughing man behind the front counter though. Instead, there sat Todd... Or lounged Todd, his sandy, brush cut head lying in a nest of insultingly well muscled arms.

This too, Ethan had to concede, wasn't exactly new. Since Ethan had begun running the shop, Todd worked every morning, the same time, same as Ethan, and yet somehow stubbornly refused to adjust himself to actually being awake during sed time. And as he had every morning,  Ethan considered that if Todd hadn't been his best friend, he'd probably have fired him by now. That, and he was pretty good at moving boxes.

Sighing, Ethan made his way over to the stool Todd had precariously perched himself on and gave it a lazy kick. Todd awoke with a start, scrambling to keep upright.

"Am I keeping you awake Todd?" Ethan asked with a weary smile.

"Bro, you are single handedly destroying my sleep cycle, but what else is new?" Todd replied groggily, "Why'd you wake me up? You don't even need me for anything."

"The produce shipment-" Ethan began.

"-Probably won't come until noon," Todd concluded sourly.

Ethan scowled. "You've noticed that too huh? He used to come first thing a few years ago... Now he's been coming later and later..."

"Fine by me, I'm in no hurry to play packhorse." Todd replied with a jaw cracking yawn.

"It's your job Todd. Being awake, by the way, is also your job."

"Yeah, when there's shit to do. Trust me, I'll be all over those boxes when they come. I'll hit those boxes like they owed me money. Fuckin' Prince of boxes over here. But for now, no boxes, no customers... So no Todd," He muttered, laying his head down again.

"Todd, come on man. You've gotta do something. Remember what dad used to say? If you've got time to lean-"

"- You've got time to clean, yeah I remember. And don't get me wrong bro, your dad was a regular fountain of wisdom, but it's gonna be a long friggin' day. The dust will still be there after my power nap." 

Shaking his head, Ethan abandoned his efforts to rouse Todd and fetched his old push broom from its resting place nearby. 

It was worn, it's bristles tattered, it's paint chipped, and it was heavier than a broom had any right to be, the shaft made of what Ethan suspected was solid metal, but it had been in the family for generations, and it fit in Ethan's hand like it was made just for him. 

Wearily, he took it and made a few halfhearted swipes at the floor, but had to concede that all he was doing was likely wearing more of the already thin varnish off the boards. He'd spent most of last night aimlessly sweeping too, after all. It wasn't like there were customers to keep them busy.

Todd looked up, and seemed to notice the despondent look on Ethan's face. 

"Hey man, I'm just fuckin' around. You know I'll work hard today." 

"Yeah Todd, I know, I'm not really worried about you," Ethan replied quietly.

Todd stood and made his way over to Ethan,  awkwardly clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry so much dude. Things will get better. Today's gonna be different! I can feel it!" Todd exclaimed with as much enthusiasm as one could have at six in the morning.

"I don't really want it to be different," Ethan sighed,"I'd rather things... went back to being the same."

Todd scowled. "Well, tough. I said today's gonna be different, and it will. You wait and see, bro."

"Alright," Ethan laughed, "If you say so."

As the day wore on, things certainly seemed far from different.

As Todd predicted, the produce shipment came extraordinarily late. True to his word, Todd tackled the task with gusto. Ethan was forced to admit, when there was actual work to be done, Todd was a model employee. It was just sheer boredom that tripped him up. Unfortunately, boredom was the one commodity they had in plenty at the store. Once the crates were squared away, the produce stocked, there was little else to be found, because as Ethan had predicted, only a few, meandering customers made their way into the store all day. Even fewer had bought anything. 

As evening began to fall, Ethan gradually found that even he was running out of mindless busywork for himself, and so, he began to fall back on entertaining Todd's inane chatter.

"Hey, bro!" Todd called from the front of the store. From where Ethan stood, crowded in the far corner, surrounded by crates of fruit, he could only just make out Todd's frame leaning languidly on the counter, a newspaper in hand. "Did you read this story? The one in the paper today?"

"You mean that paper we're supposed to be selling?" Ethan sighed.

"Yeah, whatever dude, listen up. Apparently there was a dragon attack in South Mills. Isn't that crazy?"

Ethan scowled. "A dragon? An actual like... wild dragon? I thought those were pretty rare."

"Yeah, I know right? I guess it's the first attack in like, five years or something," Todd paused, laying down the paper, "Hey... do you think something like that could happen here?" He added, in a tone far more hopeful than frightened.

"Here?" Ethan didn't even give the question a moment's consideration, "No way. That stuff happens out in the country, not in the middle of downtown. Not here."

"I dunno, could happen. Oh! like I heard from my cousin’s friend's sister, there was that place down on Pine St, that mom and pop diner? Anyhow, so I guess the health inspector was due to visit, and they were freaking out because they'd never make the grade, right? And then like, overnight, they get one of those... Uh, those little bastards... What're they called? Something like food... a muffin?"

"A Brownie," Ethan supplied wearily.

"Yeah! That's the thing! Anyhow, I guess one of those moves in, and suddenly the next morning their kitchen is totally clean and up to code! So see man, that kind of thing happens around here."

Ethan shook his head. "Don't hold your breath Todd. This place isn't exactly magical."

Ethan had always been vaguely aware of Magic, in the same way one could be vaguely aware that elephants existed. It was a part of life for some people, and sometimes interesting to hear about, but Ethan sure as hell didn't want it in his shop. A Green, he could almost hear his father saying, did not rely on Magic. Hard work, courage and love had their own magic, he would state, and it was all their family ever needed. Ethan held by this attitude dutifully... Not that anything remotely Magical had ever shown up at his door. Life at the shop had been blissfully routine for years, so much so that it was almost easy to forget that Magic even existed to begin with.

"Still, it'd be cool," Todd muttered.

Ethan smirked. "What, you want a dragon to come burn the shop down?" 

Todd heaved a sigh. "Well at least then I'd get weekends off..."

Ethan paused, a twinge of guilt running through him. "Look..." He began awkwardly, "I'm... I'm really sorry you've had to work so much lately. It's just, you know, money's tight... I can't really afford to hire..." 

"Bro," Todd cut in with a laugh, "Shut the fuck up man. I don't care. I didn't really mean what I said, you know that."

"I... Yeah," Ethan sighed, "I just... Feel bad."

"You always feel bad. Constantly. You're like a little rain cloud of pure downer. Come on, bro, don't take me so seriously. I don't." 

"Yeah okay. Just, I don't wanna be that boss, y'know?"

"You aren't dude. Calm down. Sweep or something, that'll cheer you up." 

"Great advice. Thanks, Todd." Ethan shot back sarcastically.

"Anytime." Todd replied with cheerful sincerity.

Aggravatingly, as closing hour neared, Ethan really was still sweeping. 

There was no real aim. He just skated his broom around the shop, letting his mind wander, trying to keep visions of red ink and out of business signs out of his head. He was startled out of these thoughts however, by a sharp jab to the back.

"Ow! F-Fudge!" He muttered.

He heard Todd creak on his stool. "The spinning wheel?" He drawled lazily.

Ethan wheeled to eye the contraption in question. "Yeah, the stupid thing."

"Goddamn, that's got to be the fifth time this week. You'd think you'd steer clear of that thing by now.”

"You'd think..." Ethan muttered darkly.

He hated that spinning wheel. Hated it. Nearly every day of his life he'd had to dodge its spindle, jutting out into the aisles, taking up precious space. But his mother, and his grandmother, and her mother before that had been enamored with it. Made the place look rustic, they'd said, homey. Made it a death trap, Ethan thought murderously to himself. But still, he couldn't bring himself to remove it. It was a part of the shop. Tradition. 

He was still rubbing his sore back when the smell met his nose. He felt his stomach sink. Rotten fruit. Again. Just what he needed.

Striding over to the produce, he bent over the bin of peaches and poked at them experimentally. Their flesh gave way, revealing their slick, browning insides, releasing that same putrid odor. Ethan suppressed a groan of frustration.

"Todd!" He called.

"Yeah, what?"

"Did you forget to swap out yesterday's peaches?"

Todd poked his head down the aisle, scowling. "No man. I restocked those today, my own two hands."

"They're friggin' rotten again!" 

"Again? That's weird. They looked okay when I stocked them, I guess," Todd shrugged.

"Well, they're garbage now," Ethan sighed.

Grumbling, Ethan seized a trash bag and set about the unenviable task of discarding the moldering peaches. He was so consumed by his frustration that he didn't even hear the bell tinkling on the front door. After a few minutes though, he couldn't help but notice Todd's frantic attempts to get his attention from behind the counter.

"Bro!" Todd hissed, "Bro c'mere! C'mere c'mere!"

Ethan wasn't sure why Todd was bothering to whisper, considering that he was also windmilling his arms enthusiastically. With a sigh, Ethan set down his bag and wandered over.

"What is it, Todd?" He asked wearily.

"Check it, bro. Unbelievable," Todd breathed, gesturing down the central aisle.

Ethan followed his gaze. It was a girl. That was unsurprising. Todd never hesitated to point out a shapely looking lady or two, with just as much finesse as he was doing now. Ethan usually didn't humor these gawking sessions, a little too respectful and very much too terrified to scope out women, but this time, he found he couldn't quite tear his eyes away.

She was beautiful. Radiantly, impossibly beautiful. 

She was short, but not too short, perhaps a full head below Ethan. Her hair was cropped startlingly, boyishly close, but it was a color that Ethan, though a not poetic sort, could only describe as honey-gold. Though she wore loose, casual clothes; a t-shirt, jeans, a scarf hanging about her neck, she bore them as if they were the finest regalia. 

She stood near the coolers, inspecting a drink, and as she moved Ethan found himself taking in even the tiniest aspects of her delicate form. She had slender, perfect fingers. Rosy, cherubic, perfect lips. A pert, perfect nose. Indeed as Ethan stared, he began to realize that just about everything on her was perfect, in a very uniform, depthless kind of way. This idea suddenly changed his awe to unnerved fixation. There was something... uncanny about her.

If you'd asked a man to describe what a perfect woman looked like, aside from her haircut and clothes, they likely would have rattled off her exact attributes. There were no flaws, no quirks, nothing curious or odd on her body anywhere. Not a single freckle, beauty mark, scar, wrinkle. She was of perfect proportion, curvaceous, but not overly so. Her ears were cute ears, her brows were cute brows. Even before he caught sight of her eyes, he could predict their color, a pure brilliant sky blue. The entire effect was one of a lovely woman, to make no mistake, but something struck him as off. She seemed so... generically gorgeous. So... homogenized.

Still, she was a girl, and she was beautiful, and so Todd's next words brought a twist to Ethan's stomach.

"Go talk to her, bro."

Ethan whirled to face Todd. "What!?" He hissed.

"Yeah, dude, go talk to her! One of us has to! We can't let a babe like that walk out the door without saying something!"

"Yes we can! And why me!?"

Todd shrugged. "I know my limits dude. A girl like that? Wouldn't say two words to me. But you've got that whole kicked-puppy thing going on. Girls love that. Go talk to her."

"I... What?"

"Besides, you deserve a break. Maybe if you got a girlfriend you'd stop moping for once."

"I am not going to go over there and hit on her!" Ethan exclaimed, a little more loudly than he'd intended. He froze, panicked for a moment. Had she heard? He snuck a glance at her, but she was still staring impassively at her drink. He could have sworn he heard a snicker though.

"Relax dude. I didn't tell you to go ask her to marry you. Just say something to her."

"Like what!?" Ethan demanded quietly.

"I don't know man, like, "Hey, need help finding anything?" At the very least you gotta go help her out. It's good customer service."

Ethan paused. In a roundabout way, Todd was right. She was a customer, and so far all he'd done was stare at her. His parents would be mortified.

"Okay, well... yeah. I'm going to go help her. But I mean... Just because it's my job," He stammered.

"Sure bro. Good luck. I'll be here, thinking up baby names for you."

Ethan scowled and shook his head, but nonetheless gathered his courage and began to approach the mystery girl. He saw her gaze slant over to him, and it hit him like an electric shock. Suddenly Ethan became painfully aware of his every flaw, and imagined a few new ones for good measure. Was he walking funny? Did he always walk like that? How did walking work again?

His suddenly stilted gait carried him to her, and as she stared up at him expectantly, he remembered that now he was supposed to talk.

"Hhhh...." He began. It was supposed to be Hi, but the I had jumped ship somewhere between his brain and his lungs. "So, can I... find... anything?"

Somewhere, in the back of his skull, a cruelly rational part of him began dissecting his sentence, and concluded that it was at least missing a verb and a pronoun. It decided that the obvious remedy to this problem was to make him blush furiously. The girl bit her lip. Ethan wasn't sure what this was supposed to mean, but he had a suspicion it meant something, in the mystic language of girl. 

"Uh, yeah, no, I'm just looking at the sodas," She replied with a fluttering smile.

She had a soft, lilting voice. The kind you expected to hear raised in song. Just listening to it Ethan had the impression that pan flutes and violins were on standby.

"Oh. Okay. Sodas are... good," Ethan murmured. He could hear Todd's hand hit his forehead all the way from the front of the store.

"Yeah, uh... right. So..." The girl murmured back awkwardly.

"So..." Was all Ethan could manage to reply.

He knew this was his cue to walk away. But he just... couldn't. It was as if something intoxicating was radiating off this girl, like a perfume. It fixed him to his place, denying him the dignity of a hasty retreat. He was struggling for some kind of rational explanation for this when the girl cleared her throat.

"Look," She began. Her lyrical voice had taken on a wearied, flat tone, to very odd effect. "I'm sorry. This isn't your fault."

"Wait, what's not my fault?" 

"The awkwardness."

Her bluntness was surprising, but somehow Ethan found himself laughing. "Oh. No. I'm pretty sure it's all my fault. It's kind of what I do."

The girl laughed in return, and it sounded like bells. "No, seriously though. I have this effect on everyone. It's not just you."

Ethan's mouth beat his brain. "Well, yeah, because you're gorgeous."

From the front came the distinct noise of Todd falling off his chair.

To his relief and bewilderment, she laughed again. "Uh huh. I know. It's kind of part and parcel of the whole gig. I'm, uh... Well see, I'm a Princess."

Ethan blinked. Even as his mouth was saying, "What?" His mind was quickly putting the pieces together. It made sense, actually.

Up to now, Ethan had only seen Princesses on the television, generally being paraded as some kind of prize in reality shows. The formula was always the same, a few handsome Princes, some perilous trials, and in the end, a happily ever after, or so the tabloids purported. The Princess in question had always stuck Ethan as more of a prop than a person, bubbly, vacuous, grinning glossily as men risked life and limb in the pursuit of their hands, cooing breathlessly as they were carried away into the sunset like hunted pelts on the back of some ridiculous horse. And they all looked the same. A minor variation in hair or skin color, height, features, but nearly always the same, tame, brand name beautiful. Looking at this girl now, he realized that she fit the same mold perfectly, as though she'd been crafted on the same assembly line.

At any rate, Princesses, like Magic, were something that didn't happen to Ethan Green. So despite instantly believing her confession, it took a few moments for the gears in his head to restart.

"Yeah, so, I guess it's normal that you're... y'know, staring and everything," She muttered, "It's okay. Well actually it's not okay, I mean, it's kind of a pain in the ass, but it's not like you're the only one." 

Ethan shook his head. "I... I'm sorry. I just... Why are you in my shop!?" He blurted.

The Princess regarded him frostily, a strange expression on her angelic face. "Excuse me?"

"No! No no, I didn't mean that like, 'Get out of my shop or anything' it's just that... Aren't you guys usually-?" 

Her expression only darkened, her long fingers gripping the top of her soda viciously. "Aren't we usually what? Fawning out windows, waiting for our Prince to come? Embroidering our wedding gowns? What are you saying, 'Shouldn't you be in your tower?!'" 

"No! No, jeez, no," Ethan cried, holding his hands up placatingly, "I just... You're here, doing... Normal people stuff. I mean, Princesses aren't... Normal."

Somehow, he knew it was the wrong thing the moment he said it. Still, he didn't expect the tears that sprang up in her eyes.

"No. We're not. Thanks for reminding me." She seethed. Roughly, she jammed the soda back into the cooler, and wheeled around. Ethan expected her to storm off, but instead she froze.

"Miss? Please Miss... Uh, or your highness, or... whatever. I'm sorry." Ethan stammered out.

She didn't turn, didn't move. 

"Miss? Are you alright?" 

He walked as close as he dared to her. She was still fixed in place, and as Ethan watched her, he could see she was barely breathing. Baffled, he followed her gaze. She was staring, wide eyed, unblinking, at the spinning wheel.

She let out a small, defeated breath. Spoke only two words.

"Oh, fuck."

Then, moving like a woman possessed, she stepped forward, stretched out a hand, and pricked her finger on the spindle.

Then dropped like a sack of rocks.

Chapter 2

Ethan gaped for a second, staring at her sprawled body, stepping away from it like it was toxic. It took him a few seconds to find his voice. It took him longer to form actual words.

"Oh fu- Oh sh- Oh God. Oh god oh man. Ohhhhhh god oh man oh god..."

"Bro?" Came Todd's voice tentatively from the front.

"TODD!" 

"Whoa, Bro, what!?" Todd called, scrambling out from behind the counter. 

"TODD!" Ethan cried again, pointing to her prone body.

"OH SHIT!" Todd yelped, jumping back. "WHAT THE FUCK, BRO!? I told you to talk to her, not club her like a fucking seal!"

"I didn't! I was talking to her, and then she flipped out, and then she... died?"

"OH FUCK, IS SHE DEAD!?" Todd roared.

"I DON'T KNOW! I don't know! I don't know, I just... SEE THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I TALK TO GIRLS!"

Todd let out a small burst of hysterical laughter. "Oh shit, Bro, you're a real lady killer."

"NOT FUNNY!" 

"Okay. Okay, just chill, just... Just chill," Todd took a deep breath, ran his hands through his crop of hair, "Okay. First aid right? Do we check her pulse, or... CPR? Mouth to mouth?" He offered vaguely.

"I wouldn't recommend that." Came a dry voice from behind them. 

Both of them jumped. Todd let out what could only accurately be described as a squeal. 

Whirling, Ethan came face to face with the most bizarre looking woman he'd ever seen in his life.

She wasn't quite young, but she wasn't quite old either. Something about her eyes suggested a certain august maturity, but her face had a glossy, flawless quality to it, not unlike the Princess. Her hair was a faint lavender, pulled into a rather intricate bun at the crown of her head. In truth, everything about her was lavender, from her severe, sensible pumps to her glittering, wire rim spectacles. She even seemed to emanate a nearly imperceptible lavender aura. Her clothes smacked of the same sickly hue. Ethan was just a bit at a loss for how to describe them though.

It looked like a pantsuit, tailored by someone given only the barest description of what that entailed, and with a fanciful imagination. Flairs and curlicues and embroideries plagued the thing. Ethan absently made out that her buttons were in fact twee little violet butterflies. 

And then of course, there were the wings. Gossamer, gaudy affairs, in the same precise shade of Lavender. They reached above her head, and came to an almost menacing hooked peak. They swallow-tailed beneath her, trailing just above the ground.

Ethan absorbed all of this in just a few stunned seconds. Sheer panic made him a studious observer. As the shock wore off, he felt Todd, gripping his arm so hard he was losing sensation.

"Whathafuckisthat?" Todd squeaked.

The woman... person... thing, straightened her glasses and scowled. 

"My name is Louise. I'm your Godperson attendant for this juncture," She answered. Her voice was somewhere in a bland, middle range, sterile and professional, the type of voice one chose for answering machine menus.

"Our what?" Ethan breathed.

"Here, take my card." She twiddled her fingers and in a blink of an eye a small card appeared in her hand, lavender of course. As Ethan took it, he noted absently that it gave off a strange, nauseatingly sweet smell.

"Wherethafuckyoucomefrom?" Todd cut in again.

"I teleported. Standard procedure. Much more efficient than flying," She stated as if this were self-evident, "Now, before we continue chatting, I have to observe protocol," She cleared her throat, staring Ethan square in the face. Her eyes were god damn lavender colored, "We have received notice that on these premises, a Princess has succumbed to a Curse, and as such as initiated her Trial Phase."

She had a remarkable ability for pronouncing capital letters. Everything was said with an inflection of slight annoyance.

"Uh, Miss Godperson... Louise. Ma'am. May I ask a few questions?" Ethan ventured, struggling to tread water.

"By all means."

"Okay. So. Princess?" 

"Her." Louise replied flatly, pointing to the girl sprawled on the floor.

"Okay... Curse?"

"The Spinning Wheel's Spindle. A rather old fashioned method. Usually avoided nowadays, the whole Coma business can put Princes off rather a bit, but it was deemed... Necessary in her case. Nonetheless, it was rather hard to trigger. I have to say I'm grateful for your assistance in that matter."

"Assist? I didn't push her into the thing!" Ethan exclaimed.

"Of course not. It would have drawn her in the moment she saw it. All the same, I'm glad you have one lying around. They're hard to come by."

"I... Yeah, sure... Anyhow. Uh... Trial Phase?"

"Ah, now here is where we really talk business. Are you the owner of these premises?" She demanded, fixing Ethan with a piercing gaze.

For a moment, Ethan almost said no. Some part of him still knew it as his parents' house. Their shop. Their home. But no, it was only his now.

"Yes. Yes I'm the owner," He nodded.

"Well then, as such, you are required, by code, to permit the use of these premises for use in the Princess' trials, and house her person until such a time as the trials are complete and a suitable Prince has awoken her."

"Waitwaitwait," Todd chimed in, "Trials? Like... Those crazy fuckin' things we see on TV? Riding up glass hills, and slaying dragons and shit?"

Louise looked at Todd as one might regard a diseased dog. "Yes, sir. Those sorts of trials. It's customary, once a Princess enters her Trial Phase, for Princes to compete for her hand. The onus of hosting these trials always falls on the owner of the-"

"Premises the Princess conks out on," Ethan surmised.

"In the cases of Magically Induced Comas, yes," Louise agreed.

"So you're going to roost a dragon in my SHOP!?" Ethan roared.

"There's no need to become excitable," Louise huffed, "Any and all damages you suffer will be compensated for. Honestly, most people are delighted to host Trials. It can be quite lucrative, you know."

"Lucrative?" Todd mumbled.

"Indeed. If you so choose, many Media outlets are happy to televise the proceedings, and pay a handsome fee for the privilege."

"No," Ethan replied firmly.

"Are you sure? It's quite routine nowadays," Louise replied airily.

"No. No media, no money, no... No trials! I don't want this! Take the girl but leave me alone!" He cried.

A look of frosty severity crossed Louise's face, momentarily contorting it into something that appeared not entirely human. Both he and Todd backed up a step. "You Don't Have A Choice Mr. Green," She intoned, every capital crisp.

"But... But this is my shop! It's my family's shop, it's been ours for generations!" Ethan protested.

"From the minute that girl fainted on your floor, for all intents and purposes, this shop became property of Fate, Mr. Green," Louise insisted.

"You can't..."

"I can. I will. You have very little choice in the matter. What choice you do have, I suggest you exercise wisely." She put firmly. Ethan felt the argument close like a pair of iron doors. "Now, as I said, you can still make a fine profit from this venture-"

"No, I still stand by what I said. No cameras." Ethan pressed. She was right. If this was the only choice he had, he was going to make the proper one. The Greens did not indulge in spectacle. The Greens didn't caper for money. The Greens did not seek fame. These were truths Ethan understood as firmly as his own name.

"Suit yourself," Louise dismissed, "It's not required. All that is required is that you don't impede the process. Do what you like with the Princess' body. Whatever is most convenient. I warn you though, lest you get visions of glory, that kissing her would be ill advised. Or any other kind of... miscreancy with her body, but kissing will have the most adverse effects."

"I... What!? No! God no! I'm not kissing a girl in a coma!" Ethan exclaimed. 

"Fuckin' right! That's creepy as balls!" Todd nodded.

"Good. See to it you maintain that attitude and I think we'll have a very amicable partnership." Louise declared cordially.

Ethan was less than reassured. He looked around his shop and fervently began to wish he really had told the Princess to get the hell out, customer service be damned.

"Oh cheer up," Louise pronounced. She sported something that it took several seconds for Ethan to realize was supposed to be a smile. "You're about to be aiding in the pursuit of True Love." 

She pronounced the last two words in such a fashion that Ethan almost saw the letters TM floating after them.

"I... Okay?"

"Don't worry, dear," The endearment came off more than a little scripted, "I'll take care of the particulars. All you have to do is sit back and stay out of the way. Who knows, you may even find it entertaining."

"I... But... Okay?"

"Good lad. Now then. I have a lot of business to attend to. We must get cracking as soon as possible, very eager to wrap this case up. That being said, how does tomorrow night, around nine o'clock fetch you?"

"For what?" Ethan asked numbly. 

"Well the trial of course!" Louise exclaimed, "Honestly, do keep up."

"Uh, well, it is after close," Ethan reasoned lamely.

"Lovely. Works for both of us. Good to see you're becoming more agreeable." Louise flashed another dubious smile. 

"I... Yeah, no problem," Ethan replied dazedly.

"Well, if that's all that sorted, I'll be on my way. You can expect the Dragon sometime around Eight, I expect."

"The... wait, what, seriously!?" Ethan exclaimed.

"Good day!" Louise replied brightly. There was a slight flash, a small sound like rushing air, and then she was gone.

He and Todd stood stock still for what must have been minutes. When Todd finally released his grip on Ethan's arm, he left sweaty fingerprints on his shirt.

"Dragon," Ethan muttered absently, "She said Dragon."

"And you said this shit doesn't happen here!" Todd replied with a faint laugh.

"Why Dragons? Why here? Why... Why me?" Ethan whispered. He looked to Todd frantically. "Did I like, murder someone and forget about it? Kick some kittens? How did my luck get this bad!?" 

"Well, you did get this chick zonked," Todd chuckled, prodding the girl with his foot.

"Don't kick her! God, what do we do with her? We can't just leave her here," Ethan moaned. Looking at her, sprawled on the hard floor, he already felt a bit guilty he'd ignored her as long as he had. 

"We could prop her up in the corner, tape her eyes open, scare the shit out of shoplifters."

"Todd!"

"Alright, dude, just kidding."

"It'll have to be the couch I guess," Ethan sighed, "Come on, help me move her."

Awkwardly, Ethan bent and slipped his hands under her arms, and Todd obligingly gathered up her legs. Lifting her, Ethan found she was actually rather light. He guessed that Todd could have lifted her on his own, but it would have hurt his pride to admit he himself likely couldn't. Together, they shuffled her into the living room. 

"She's not really breathing, Eh?" Todd ventured quietly.

Ethan had noticed the same thing. She looked still as death, but her skin was warm, her face rosy. "Yeah... It's creepy," He grunted as he struggled.

"Fuckin' creepy," Todd echoed.

Gesturing with his head, Ethan guided Todd over to the low, green couch set flush against the stairwell. "I don't know if her heart's beating either," He said as they laid her down.

Todd looked down at her, shook his head. "Nope. Nope I don't think it is."

Ethan shuddered. "So creepy."

Todd nodded, then considered a moment more. "Hey so... Hopefully that means she doesn't have to pee, right?" 

"Oh jeez. Oh wow that's gross but, yeah."

"Or eat. Or drink or anything..."

"God, where is that stupid Fairy Godperson when you need her?" Ethan hissed.

"More like Fairy Godbitch. What a cu-"

"Todd!"

"Country fried fool, as my grandma used to say," Todd recovered. 

Ethan shot him a smirk, but looking down at the stranger on his couch, he began to get the sensation that he was sliding down a very steep ravine. In actuality, it was a feeling he'd had for a very long time now, but the pace of his descent had gotten markedly faster.

"Bro? You okay?" Todd ventured quietly.

Ethan looked up, aware he'd been staring into space. "Yeah… I mean, well no, but yeah."

"I hear you. Weird fuckin' day, right?"

"Yeah, no kidding," Ethan laughed softly.

They fell into silence again for a minute. Todd seemed to become aware of his surroundings all of a sudden. 

"Hey. I just realized. I haven't been back here in like, years. Man, nothing's changed," He remarked.

"Yeah," Ethan replied vaguely. He knew Todd hadn't. No one had, except for a few well-wishing aunts, uncles, cousins, but even they'd stopped visiting months ago. The Princess was the first person to make use of the couch in ages. It always felt too big to sit on alone.

"So what now man?" Todd asked hesitantly.

Ethan shrugged. "I guess... We just close up. Go to bed, right?"

"That's it? You sure I can't do anything else?" 

"No. Wait, yeah," Ethan considered, "Can you... Can you get rid of that stupid spinning wheel for me? Just wrap it in a tarp and stick it in storage or something?"

Todd gaped openly, "Wait, for real?"

Ethan nodded wearily, "Uh, yeah. If it's not too much trouble."

"Hell no! I'd cart that fucking thing to an active volcano if you asked me, bro! But, I mean, I thought you wanted to keep it around. Because of... You know..."

Ethan knew. Some part of it felt like a betrayal, even thinking about discarding it. It was a piece of his memories, something his mother had been fond of… But he HATED it. The thing had stretched his tolerance just by hulking in the corner, but now it seemed it was actively trying to spite him. No more. It had to go.

"Yeah, Todd. I knew I said we should keep it around but... Well that's before I knew the thing was a friggin' Princess trap.," He laughed.

Todd chuckled in return. "It was like a freaking predator man! Waitin' for nubile young Princesses to wander into its clutches. It was probably practicing on you all these years."

"I don't look like a Princess," Ethan pouted.

"Sure, whatever you say, bro." Todd laughed. Turning, he strode on his heel, whistling cheerfully.

Chapter 3

The store closed and the spinning wheel properly squared away, Todd left, and Ethan found himself alone in his silent house. 

Well not quite alone. 

Standing in the living room, he caught himself staring at the Princess again. It was embarrassing, but in truth it was hard not to. Not because of her extraordinary beauty, though that was a factor, but because Ethan couldn't shake the eerie, unnatural sensation she engendered in him. His eyes fixed on her hair. It seemed... Longer somehow. He could have sworn it was just an inch when she'd walked in, but now it seemed long enough to brush her earlobes. That was impossible right? 

Confounded, he let it go. He'd already been through at least four or five things he thought impossible today. What was a few extra inches of hair compared to a half-dead girl on your couch?

Wearily, he fixed himself a haphazard supper before wandering off to his bed. Slowly, he went through his morning ritual in reverse, struggling with the knot on his apron, shuffling off his shoes, combing his hair, culminating with a brief, despondent look in the mirror. Finally, he threw himself down on his bed.

Ethan's nerves were frazzled, his mind racing, but the benefit of a long day of hard work was that it was nearly impossible to suffer insomnia. Ethan had never once in his life had trouble falling asleep, and tonight was no exception.

It began the same way.

He glided into the living room, drenched with light, radiant, warm.

He headed for the doorway, eager, hopeful.

He heard their voices. Thunder and birdsong. So close and so familiar it made his heart bleed.

He reached out a hand for the doorknob and...

Suddenly, discordantly, the door flew open. A small figure pushed its way through it, walking so briskly they bumped into Ethan's chest, giving a small squeak of surprise. Baffled, Ethan looked down.

It was her.

The Princess, in all her uncanny glory. She stared up at him with her vivid blue eyes, her honey hair cropped short over her brow. Ethan stared, open mouthed at her for a long minute, his bleary mind scrabbling to understand.

"Y-you!?" He exclaimed at length.

The girl scowled up at him. Roughly, she pushed him backwards a few steps, shutting the door behind her. "Hey, douche," She replied scathingly.

Ethan tried once or twice to speak, but words wouldn't come. He grasped at his hair, frustration, panic, confusion all battling in his chest. 

"What are you doing here!?" He cried, when his voice finally decided to show up.

She shrugged, avoiding his eyes.  "I got bored I guess. Saw this was open. Decided to snoop." 

"But... What!? How are you here, you... you're unconscious on my couch!" 

The girl rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Which is why I'm stranded in fucking dreamland, isn't it?"

"D-Dreamland?"

"Limbo, purgatory, the veil, whatever you want to call it. I got bored cruising around in the dark, figured I'd come crash this dream. I didn't know it was yours," She said with a note of disgust.

"A... a dream," Ethan murmured dazedly.

Suddenly, he heard it again, the bass rumble of his father's laugh. It drew him like a magnet. Instinctively, he tried to shift around the girl, but she noticed his maneuver and leaned against the door, arms crossed.

"Move," Ethan demanded.

"Yeah, I'm not done talking to you," The girl snorted.

Ethan began to feel frantic. "You need to move."

"Why?"

"Because I need to be out there! Move!"

"You don't need to be anywhere, it's a dream," She dismissed with another roll of her eyes.

"Move!"

"So have you tried to kiss me yet?" The girl replied, her voice casual, but her glance cutting.

Ethan paused, becoming aware that his breathing was galloping away from him. "W-What?"

"Well, you were hitting on me before. I figured you probably tried to get lucky right?"

Ethan could feel himself flush scarlet, though from indignation or humiliation he didn't know. "I was NOT hitting on you, I was... offering assistance. And no, I don't kiss girls in comas, but y'know, thanks for assuming!"

"Oh, seriously! You expect me to believe you didn't try to cop a feel!" The girl shot back. There was a ragged edge to her voice, something verging on tears, but Ethan barely noticed through his rage.

"No! Jesus, no!" He shouted, throwing up his hands.

"I know how it is! You get a pretty Princess in your shop, she passes out, is totally at your mercy. Figured I was public property anyhow!? Thought it was your lucky day!?"

Even high and screaming her voice was aggravatingly lovely. Her flushed face and teary eyes were still picturesquely perfect. It only threw fuel on Ethan's anger.

"LUCKY!?" He roared. A few tight, hysterical laughs bubbled out of his chest. "LUCKY!? You think it's LUCKY when a stranger passes out in your store!? You think it's LUCKY when some psychopathic fairy-lawyer from hell tells you she can do whatever she likes with your home!? You think it's LUCKY when... when everything you love could be burned to the ground tomorrow!? Is THAT your idea of LUCKY!?" Ethan buried his face in his hands, and took a few, sharp breaths before continuing. "I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for you, or your curse, or any of this... So just... God, will you please just leave me alone and get out of the way?" 

He looked at her face for the first time since he'd begun his tirade. She stared back, wide eyed, lips pursed. Her bitterness was gone, but she still remained frozen in place.

"Why do you want to get back there so bad?" She asked in a small, blank voice. "It's just your storefront. It's barely even different from when I saw it."

Ethan's patience had dissolved. Roughly, he pushed her arm aside, grasped for the doorknob.

"I need to see them," He answered flatly.

"See who?" She still stood stubbornly in the way. Ethan turned the knob, tried to prop it open. 

"My parents," Ethan continued, an edge of desperation entering his voice.

"But it's just a dream-" 

"I need to see them before they disappear!" Ethan cried, wrenching at the door.

He heard the girl give a small gasp, and suddenly she sprang away from the door. Ethan flung it open, heart beating wild with anticipation, but...

There was nothing.

The doorway opened into darkness. A complete and unending void.

"I... What... What happened?" Ethan whispered.

He reached out a tentative hand, pawed at the abyss beyond. He felt only dry, empty cold meeting his touch.

"They... They're gone. It's gone. Everything's gone," He intoned.

"It's just a dream," Came the girl's voice, meek, soft. 

"They're gone," Ethan repeated, choking over the last syllable.

Ethan slowly backed away from the door, shut it. The endless blackness was more than he could bear. He felt tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and shakily raised his hand to cover them. He stood in silence for what must have been a very long time, grappling with the void that swelled inside him, the echo to that dark and empty doorway.

"They aren't gone forever," The girl chimed in.

Ethan took a quick, gulping breath. "Yeah. Yeah they are," He replied thickly. 

The girl didn't reply, but her silence was answer enough.

There was another long pause, as Ethan tried to collect himself, tried to just breathe. Eventually though, he couldn't ignore the feel of the girl's eyes on him. Wearily, he straightened up, turned to face her.

"What do you-" 

"I'm sorry!" She blurted.

Ethan blinked.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry!" She cried. Perfect, crystalline tears began to roll down her cheeks, and Ethan dimly considered that it was almost unfair how prettily flushed her face was, compared to his doubtlessly blotchy, red eyed one. "I'm sorry about your house and your shop, and your parents... I'm sorry I was such a fucking bitch back there... I just... Oh god, I'm really, really sorry about everything!" She sobbed.

Ethan found himself in the odd position of immediately feeling guilty. Instantly all his rage and pain were forgotten as he scrambled for a way to make things right.

"Hey, no, it's okay. It's alright. I, uh... I don't mind." He stammered.

She gave a small, tinkling laugh, between gasping breaths. "You don't mind? I've fucked up your life!" She exclaimed.

"No, I mean... Kind of. But it's not your fault, and I mean... I'm sorry?"

She gave another, louder laugh. "You're sorry? Wow, Jesus, why on earth are you sorry?"

Ethan paused, trying to puzzle out an answer, brow furrowed.

"Uh, I'm sorry... that you're sorry?" He ventured.

The girl laughed again, and suddenly, like sun peeking out from behind clouds, something new, something genuine slipped out. Her laugh started musically, but a surprising, brash note snuck in, and then a small snort. It was jarring, but oddly refreshing. Ethan found himself smiling without exactly knowing why.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh at you." She began, misinterpreting Ethan's curious stare, "It's just... You really don't like crying people, do you?" 

Ethan returned with a laugh of his own. "No, they kind of freak me out." 

The girl smiled, and sniffling, began to swipe away her tears. "Sorry. I just... I really am sorry. About everything."

"Noted," Ethan replied with a smile.

She sighed, and the two of them regarded each other for a suddenly painfully awkward minute. Ethan cast about for what one said to a half-dead dream Princess. A question leapt into his head and he couldn't stop himself from asking it.

"Do you eat?" He blurted.

"What?" The girl looked up at him, smiling bemusedly.

"I mean, like... If you don't eat, in the real world, will you die? I should have asked the fairy god-lady or whatever but-"

"Oh. Oh no. I don't. I don't need water or anything. It's like... Magic stasis? I should be fine." 

"Oh, okay, thank god. That... that would have been weird."

They both paused for a moment, no doubt musing over the undignified scenario of trying to feed a passed-out stranger. Ethan tried to push it out of his mind. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Well anyhow, uh, your body is good - I mean it's okay! It's fine. It's uh, on my couch," He supplied.

"Oh, yeah, thanks. That's nice," The girl replied hurriedly, "One of... one of these?" She queried, pointing around the room.

"What? Oh! Yeah... uh, that one." Ethan answered, gesturing.

"Huh." The girl crossed over to the couch in question. Stiffly, she sat, bounced on it a few times. "Seems comfy enough. Thanks," She added with a smile.

"Yeah, no problem," Ethan smiled back nervously. Hesitant, but feeling gawky standing over her, he crossed to the couch and sat as well, taking care to seat himself on the far opposite side. "I mean. It's not exactly... uh... fit for a Princess or anything," He muttered.

The girl gave a loud snort of derision, another strange, fascinating slip of her veneer. "I would sleep on the lumpiest couches on earth if I could stop being a fucking Princess."

Ethan smiled at her nervously. "What, seriously?"

The girl nodded, her shoulders slumped. "Yeah, seriously."

"But I mean... I thought being a Princess was every girl's dream?"

The girl gave a small, bitter laugh. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, for some girls it must be. I've seen ones that seem happy enough. I mean, money, fame, a handsome husband... It sounds pretty great. Maybe I'm weird for thinking it's not, but... Jesus, it's not." 

"What do you mean?" 

"What do I mean!? I mean it's... It's... It's a trap, you know? It's a perversion, it's a violation, it's... It's a fucking nightmare."

"A violation?" Ethan gulped.

The girl nodded vigorously. "Yeah, you have no idea. I mean... Where do I start?" She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, and seemed to be struck with inspiration. "Okay," She said, holding them up, "First of all. This isn't me."

"Oooo...kay?" 

"This, all this," She pressed, circling her finger around her face, "This isn't what I look like. I was made to look like this."

"How do you mean... you used to look different?"

The girl nodded. "My mom tells me that when I was born, I looked like her. I had freckles, and a bigger mouth, and a different nose... But then the fucking godpeople came." She sighed.

"The fairy ones?"

"Yeah, those ones. So... Okay, you know how Princesses used to be a monarchy thing?" She enquired.

"Uh, yeah, vaguely," Ethan nodded.

"Well now it's just a random thing. Maybe because of the march of democracy or something, I don't know. All I do know, is that one day, a few months after you're born, fairy godparents just zap themselves into your fucking nursery and decide you're a Prince or a Princess. There's nothing your parents can do, nothing anybody can do, they just decide it, and that's that."

"So... just for giggles? Why do they pick who they pick?" 

"I don't know. I think they have some reasoning behind it... I mean, they're like magical lawyers, you're right, they've got all these rules and regulations, they've got to have a reason, but... I don't know. Anyhow. So they decide you're a Princess and then you get blessed."

"Blessed?"

"Uh huh. You get some kind of special gift. Three of them usually. So Princes get stuff like Courage, or Strength, or Dashing, or something like that. With Princesses though, it's junk like Grace, or Poise, or Good Posture."

"That last one sounds annoying," Ethan observed.

"I know, right? At least I didn't get saddled with that one," She laughed, gesturing at her slumped frame, "And of course they're never anything useful. I could be happy with, like, Good at Math, or Tells Good Jokes or... I dunno... Remembers Birthdays Really Well."

"Talented Beekeeper," Ethan offered. 

Another laugh, another slipped note. Ethan smiled.

"Yeah, why not? Anything like that. But no. Useless bullshit. And then with Princesses, one of the gifts is always Beauty." She sighed bitterly.

"Seems kinda... subjective," Ethan muttered. 

"Yeah, well not to the Godparents, apparently. When a girl is gifted with Beauty, she doesn't just become a prettier version of herself, or just stays the same and everyone thinks she's beautiful... She actually physically changes. I changed. I used to look different. I used to look like my mom. Now... Now I don't know how I really look anymore. I just look like what the Godparents think is beautiful. Like... like the most baseline kind of beauty they could come up with."

"Wait... So your face-" 

"Not my face. Not my original one at least."

"And your eyes?" 

"Not blue. Mom thinks they might have been Hazel... I don't know." She shrugged defeatedly.

"Oh man, that's a relief!" Ethan blurted.

The girl looked at him, startled. "A relief?"

"Well, yeah, I mean..." Ethan stammered, "I just... There was something odd about you, and it was kinda freaking me out - Not that you're freaky, it's just... You looked... Uh, a little... off?"

She stared at Ethan, face unreadable. "You don't like the way I look?" She asked flatly.

"Yes! I mean no - well wait not no, but..." Ethan could almost hear the sound of a shovel pitching dirt out of his grave.

"It's okay, seriously, do you?"

Ethan gave a small, high laugh. "Uh... Well, I mean yeah, you look pretty... and everything... but it's kind of... Uh... boring? Oh wow, that came out wrong. Just not... Interesting. Wow, still wrong!" 

"No no, it's okay!" She replied. Ethan was flabbergasted to find her smiling.

"I-I like your hair though. The cut I mean," He offered.

"Oh," Her smile grew, "Thanks. I cut it myself. Every day."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah. Turns out when they make you beautiful, they want you to stay beautiful, according to their standards. So, wounds don't scar, piercings fuse up, tattoo ink beads up and falls off. And your hair just grows and grows and fucking grows."

"Holy cow, that's weird," Ethan breathed. 

"Right!?" She exclaimed. "I once tried to put on purple lipstick and it melted in the tube! Doesn't do that with pink or light red. Such bullshit."

"So, you cut your hair and wear uh, Un-Princessey clothes because..."

"Because it's the only way I can be myself," She murmured quietly.

Ethan was silent for a moment. He looked at the beautiful face that wasn't hers and saw a sorrow beneath it that she seemed to own all too much.

"Jeez, that sounds... Bogus," He offered lamely.

She laughed. "Understatement of the year, but yeah. But I mean, that's not really the worst of it. Not by a longshot."

"Oh?" Ethan ventured.

"It's not enough to take your identity, they fucking own your life. From the moment you're Princessified, you belong to them. You don't get to choose where you live, where you go to school, what you want to do with your life. No, you're as good as a slave from that point on."

"Seriously?"

The girl nodded. "On your fourteenth birthday, right? The godparents show up, and give you a Curse. Something to begin your trials. Maybe you bite a bad apple, maybe you run into a vindictive goblin, maybe you drop candle wax on a bear..."

"What?"

"Don't ask. Anyhow, they give you this curse to hang over your head for the rest of your life. Once it gets activated, you're locked in. The contest for your hand starts, and congratulations, you've lost any control you had over your life. You're just fucking Prince bait from then on."

"Okay, wait, but... Why? I've been thinking this since you passed out on my floor... Why? Why bother, why all the trouble and magic and rules? Why marry off Princesses? What's the point?"

"I don't know. It seems insane, right? All this pageantry. They practically devote themselves to forcing this weird routine... Again, I mean... there's gotta be a reason. If you ask them they'll tell you it's all about True Love."

"Trademark," Ethan added absently.

"Oh my god, you got that too!?" The girl exclaimed. "It's like they own the patent on Tru Wuv or something. So fucking annoying. It's always True Love this, and True Love that. Which is bullshit. I mean, my parents met when they were in college. They both liked bad horror movies and jazz music. They traveled the world together on like, five bucks and a prayer. Dad proposed with a twist tie ring. That... That seems like True Love to me. I don't get any of that. I can't even date!"

"At all?" Ethan asked, very conscious of trying to sound casual.

"Nope. Do you know what happens if you try to kiss a Princess if you aren't a Prince?"

"No. I get the feeling it's ominous though." 

"You get turned into a frog. No fucking kidding. An actual frog. One of my childhood friends found that out the hard way, got an inch away from my lips and suddenly he's hopping. I cried for like, six days before the godparents showed up and changed him back." She'd begun to talk very fast, her face flushed. Ethan began to get the sensation that she'd forgotten she was even talking to anyone else. "If anyone tried to cop a feel, my clothes go all rigid. Like steel. No matter what I wear. They refuse to come off. For like, an hour. You know how hard that makes doctor's visits? Even though Princesses never really get sick... And even when I'm naked? Anyone who comes within eyeshot is left blind and paralyzed, and it doesn't wear off until I put clothes on!"

Ethan gulped, his face burning. "Uhhhh...."

"Because GOD FORBID anyone take my chastity! No! Gotta save that for our Princes! Gotta be pure, and demure, and fucking CHASTE. I'm twenty two years old dude, and I still haven't lost my...!"

She trailed off. Ethan heard her breath go out in a little dwindling squeak. He felt her eyes on the side of his head, but he stared devoutly at the floorboards.

They sat. They fidgeted. Ethan coughed twice.

Eventually, Ethan couldn't resist sneaking a look at her face. She looked embarrassed, yes. But also a little... Worn down. A little defeated. And more than a little scared.

"Hey," Ethan said quietly, breaking the silence, "I'm, uh... Sorry. About this. That all sounds really, really awful."

She looked up, a small smile tracing her face.

"I'm sorry about your hair," He continued, "And your life, and, uh, you know... your chastity." He finished with a slight break of his voice.

She burst into giggles, and Ethan was strangely delighted to hear her little snort crop up again. He found himself grinning.

"Thanks." She replied once she'd caught her breath. "And I'm sorry too. About all the stupid shit I said, and your shop, and all the trouble I've caused," She paused, looked towards the door, "And, um... Sorry about your parents."

Ethan's smile disappeared. "Why are you sorry about that? You didn't even know them."

"Yeah, but I mean... They're gone, right?" She asked quietly.

Ethan closed his eyes. Nodded.

"And that sucks, right?"

He nodded again.

"So... I'm sorry. And I'm really sorry I stopped you from seeing them," She added, her voice heavy with sincerity.

Ethan gave her a weak smile. "Don't worry about it. It's just a dream, right?"

Another moment's silence. This time broken by the girl.

"Hey. What's your name?"

Ethan looked up, smiled wryly. "Oh. I'm Ethan. Ethan Green."

The girl smirked, a strangely incongruent expression on a Princess's face. 

"Green? You own a Grocer's and your name is-?"

"Yeah yeah, hilarious right? Trust me, you haven't said anything my friend hasn't already. Repeatedly," Ethan replied with a sigh.

"Sorry," She giggled, "Uh. Well, my name's Penny."

"Penny," Ethan repeated, trying it out, "Penny what?"

She blushed. "Uh, Pierce," She mumbled.

Ethan laughed. "So wait, you're-?"

"Princess Penny Pierce." She groaned.

"Oh wow." Ethan chuckled, "And you thought my name was funny?"

"Would you believe I knew a girl whose last name was Prince? The godpeople referred to her as Princess Prince. Confused the hell out of everyone."

Both she and Ethan began to laugh, and kept laughing for longer than was truly warranted for such a small comment. They'd start to calm down, and then glance at each other and be set off all over again. On some level, Ethan understood that this was because they'd both reached a point in their stress and strangeness where they could either laugh, or cry. Laughter just seemed like the more enjoyable option.

As Ethan's giggles subsided, he looked at Penny, and suddenly saw in her... a person.

He'd seen a Pretty Girl at first, and then a Princess, and then a Pain in the Ass, but now, she was just a Person, and like that, all his awkwardness dissolved. 

"Well," He smiled, extending a hand, "It's nice to meet you, Penny Pierce," He said, purposely omitting the Princess part.

She grinned back, and Ethan thought there was something fantastically crooked about it this time. "Yeah, nice to meet you too, Ethan Green," She replied sincerely.

She stretched out her hand to meet his. He felt her fingertips brush his palm.

And then everything was tangled blankets and screaming alarms.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Deuce Spade - Platinum Jacket Vignette

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Deuce: This museum really has a ton of paintings. Not that I really know how to act in quiet places like this…

Deuce: Oh, but I can't use that as an excuse. I'll have to be a good supporter for the museum, just like any honor student would!

???: Is this dome… a teapot cover? Why would the Card Soldiers be carrying tea?

Deuce: Huh, you don't know, Sebek? Cool, then I'll tell you about it.

Deuce: This painting shows a scene of a trial from one of the Queen of Hearts' legends…

Deuce: And those Card Soldiers aren't actually carrying tea, but a witness for the case: a tiny mouse!

Sebek: Hmph, what's with that smug look? Well, fine, never thought there'd be a day that you'd have something to teach me, I suppose.

Deuce: Heheh. I'm a supporter for the museum, so it makes sense that I can explain something like that.

Deuce: Since I'm a student of Heartslabyul, I made sure to study extra hard all the tales related to the Queen of Hearts or her Card Soldiers.

Sebek: Is that so? Still, did it require two of them to transport a single small mouse?

Deuce: According to the story, it was a crucial witness, so they wanted to make sure it got to the Queen safely.

Deuce: Ah, that reminds me… We had something similar to this painting go down at Heartslabyul just the other day.

Deuce: Though, it wasn't a witness that was getting brought in…

Sebek: What, was there some lout breaking the Queen of Hearts' laws?

Deuce: Yeah. There was this one student who'd been breaking the rules over and over again, and he was finally being brought before Rosehearts-ryōchō for a stern reprimand…

Deuce: When the two guys tasked with hauling him in came to bring him to the Housewarden, that rule-breaker ran.

Sebek: Why do you even have people tasked with hauling others in…? You folk in Heartslabyul have far too many strange duties and rules!

Sebek: But that transgressor is also a coward, fearing reprimand and fleeing without taking responsibility for their actions.

Deuce: Right? He made his bed, he's gotta lie in it.

Sebek: Judging by your manner of speech there, am I right to assume that you helped to secure that transgressor?

Deuce: Yeah. I ran after the guy and caught him in a flash.

Deuce: Not like I've been training my legs or working on quick, explosive power in my sprints while in the Track and Field Club for nothing!

Sebek: Oho, so you captured them. And what were those two that were supposed to have brought him in doing?

Deuce: The guys on duty were apparently so shocked when the rule-breaker ran away that they couldn't move quick enough.

Deuce: But once I brought him back to them, they firmly took hold of him on both sides and brought him to the Housewarden, though.

Sebek: I see. So perhaps the reason why it isn't considered overkill to have two people on duty for such a thing is in case something unexpected occurs.

Deuce: Maybe…? I guess so.

Deuce: Ah, but listen to this. After he finished reprimanding the rule-breaker, Rosehearts-ryōchō praised me for a job well done.

Deuce: "Not only did you capture the transgressor without a moment's delay, but you showed good judgement in allowing the students on duty to do their job as assigned," he said!

Sebek: True, normally you'd do something brash like bringing that offending student directly to Riddle-senpai after capturing him.

Sebek: An unusually calm and mature judgement, coming from you.

Deuce: Hey, nothing "unusual" about it! It's not strange that I was able to think that through.

Deuce: Because, I'm on my way to becoming an honor student!

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Sebek: Oh, this painting… It looks as though it's based on the legend that speaking a wish into a well would make it come true.

Deuce: Yeah, so if you make a wish into a well, it sends your voice back out. I remember that well, 'cause I always thought that was odd.

Sebek: It's merely an echo. What is so odd about that?

Deuce: Huh, an echo?

Sebek: You didn't even know that? I'm speaking of the phenomenon in which sound bounces off of water or walls and is reflected back.

Deuce: Huh… Oh, so is that the same sort of thing as when sounds reverberate in a tunnel?

Sebek: That's right, as tunnels are also primed for echoes.

Deuce: Oh, okay… That actually brings back memories.

Deuce: Whenever I'd be riding through long tunnels, I'd put the pedal to the metal and rev it up so loud.

Sebek: You'd rev what? Are you talking about some kind of music?

Deuce: No, no. I'm talking about a blastcycle, not any instruments or whatever.

Deuce: The engine can make different sounds based on the body of the blastcycle, or even from the way it's ridden.

Deuce: It can make heavy thumping sounds, or low, rolling sounds…

Deuce: And it can be really fun to change up my driving style just to hear those different sounds.

Deuce: Whenever I ended up alongside another driver who knew how to make their own engine sing,

Deuce: It was easy to just end up competing to see who could make their engine rev louder.

Sebek: And what is so fun about that? It just seems to be a cacophony of noise, based on what you're saying.

Deuce: YOU DON'T GET IT AT ALL! It's great because I can feel it to my core.

Deuce: And, it feels sooooo amazing to feel the vibration of the engine echoing off the tunnel walls!

Deuce: AND PICKING UP SPEED IS THE BEST PART!

Deuce: The faster I go, the higher the pitch of the engine…the more that sound echoes in the tunnels…

Deuce: By the end of it all, the only sound I can hear is the blastcycle engine… I just can't get enough of that feeling!

Sebek: Shh, Deuce. You're being too loud, lower your voice. You're going to bother everyone else trying to enjoy the silence.

Deuce: Ah, sorry… Actually, kinda feels weird to get told by you of all people to lower my voice.

Sebek: Why is that? I don’t raise my voice like that unnecessarily.

Deuce: Eh… You seriously saying that right now?

Sebek: Obviously. At any rate, I don't really understand what you were saying about those blastcycles, but…

Sebek: You shouldn't cause a ruckus while riding, unlike what you did just now.

Deuce: Well, obviously I try to ride so I don't bother others on the road… At least, now I do…

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Deuce: Oh hey, it's the Lord of the Underworld. I like how brave he looks flying through the sky in this painting.

Deuce: And on top of it all… He's way too cool, rushing to the front lines like that to save his captured comrades!

Sebek: Right. The Lord of the Underworld must have been a truly capable fellow, able to take on even the most difficult missions by himself.

Sebek: One would require proper deliberation and competency to achieve positive results.

Deuce: Urgh… That hits a sore spot…

Sebek: A sore spot…? Ah, you are talking about what happened last week.

Sebek: I remember seeing you, Grim, [Yuu]… and Ace, if I recall. It was while I was heading back from flight class.

Sebek: All four of you were standing like idiots in the hallway, being scolded by Trein-sensei.

Deuce: URGH!!!! You saw that!?

Deuce: I-I didn't plan on it ending with us getting in trouble! It wasn't supposed to end like that…

Sebek: I'm sure it is a ridiculous story… But why not, I'll listen to whatever excuses you come up with.

Deuce: At the start of History of Magic class, Trein-sensei told [Yuu] to read out loud a passage from the textbook.

Deuce: But that page was completely ruined by drool, since Grim fell asleep on it the night before, so it was impossible to read.

Deuce: So, I raised my hand, offering to read it instead.

Sebek: So why did that end up with you all being sent out to the hallway?

Deuce: …I forg… …xtboo…

Sebek: I can't hear you, speak up.

Deuce: I… I'M SAYING I FORGOT THE NECESSARY TEXTBOOK!!!!

Sebek: So you tried to step up, even though you didn't have the textbook… You're a fool who has gone beyond help.

Deuce: Ace was saying something like that, too. Both him and Grim were laughing at me for that.

Deuce: Even though it was really Grim's fault in the first place!!

Deuce: [Yuu] even pointed that out to them, but they wouldn't stop, so…

Deuce: We ended up arguing… Which then got us sent out into the hallway before long to deal with the consequences of our actions.

Sebek: So that's why you were in the hallway. However, I don't understand. Why did you do such an unnecessary thing?

Sebek: Even if Grim or [Yuu] were to be reprimanded, that has nothing to do with you.

Deuce: Nothing to do with me? Come on, there's no way I can let my friends flounder like that.

Deuce: I mean, Grim aside… [Yuu]'s helped me out a ton before, so.

Sebek: Hmph. Then I guess at the very least, next time you should act after you've determined whether you have your textbook or not.

[Sebek walks off]

Deuce: YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE!

Deuce: Geez, and he walks off after one last parting shot, huh… Ugh. Guess I'll try to shake off this funk by checking out some of the other exhibits.

Deuce: Oh, this is a painting of a girl singing with flowers. She looks like she's having fun, but according to the story…

Deuce: If I remember correctly, she was described as vulgar, rude, and weedy...

Deuce: Doesn't matter where you are, or who you are, everyone has to follow the rules. Not a shocker to me that those who can't follow 'em end up in sticky situations.

Requested by @farfalla049.

[hoodieschaoticreviews]

Ok I watched the leaked episodes

Let’s start with the positives! I love positives!

- Alex Brightman put his whole Alexussy into this shit oh my god, Pentious and Adam actually sound really good. Adam singing is also really really good. Alex can sing in character and carry things well and I’m glad now he’s part of the project. Because at least it’ll be bearable if I see the other episodes.

-Vox is actually weirdly really compelling? Like I actually ended up enjoying the vibe he’s got and his own voice grew on me, I know it’s not what people wanted but it works well.

-Nifty’s voice is pretty ok, so is Charlie’s. They’re some of the better voices of the cast, Alastor’s performance was uh. It wasn’t bad so there’s that!

-the opening exposition was needed but also a bit hamfisted- wait shit the positives- uh, I love the direction it went? Art wise?

-the songs are pretty good, they get you from point A to point B, and at least wasn’t Poison levels of cringe in writing.

-Charlie actually helping Pentious in episode 2 try to repent and be a better person actually feels nice, like a crumb of what the show should of be-

…

Ok let’s get to the point.

-the episodes clearly are trying to shove as much of the plot as humanly possible, to the point that you get whiplash.

-Angel Dust, Vaggie, Valentino, Husk all have voices that either do not fit, crack from the pressure to perform, or are trying so hard to mimic the previous voice that it’s actually worrying. The Angel dust one in particular I’ll get to when I get to the point.

-The plot starts with the main antagonist, literally telling Charlie that her plan is pointless and she should give up. There’s no actual “I want” song to counter this, unless you count the song where Adam mocks her for trying and tells her the exterminations will happen twice a year now.

-Pentious at least wasn’t a creep like i was fearing in the script, but he comes off too pathetic? Like I know he was pathetic and that’s the point but why the fuck does he want to be equal to the Vees now? Didn’t he want to rule over hell himself? I know the instagram had him crop himself into pictures with the Vees but remember those aren’t canon!

-I realized I was able to hop in because I had Wikipedia level knowledge of these characters to the point they click in my head (and enough to where Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie and Husk all felt a little off but that’s neither here nor there). But god I cannot imagine being a new person trying to jump into this show, this is bad. None of the characters get actually introduced outside of Charlie, the show references the pilot which isn’t part of the show so new audiences have no idea what they’re talking about, and the staff gets actually introduced in episode 2. EPISODE 2, TO PENTIOUS!? GIRLIE POP HAVE HIM COME EPISODE 1 THEN?

-Animation that’s either too floaty, too janky, too stiff or straight up traced. Which I don’t blame the animators for, Mammon was busy buying 10,000 dollars worth of peacocks to bother paying them more than a dollar per frame. There’s no charm here.

-Where did the fucking cat key come from? No I’m serious. Where did it come from? It just kinda exists now.

-Alastor’s commercial is just straight up MEAN and he’s often more mean than chaotic, which I know is ironic since he wasn’t a good person and I wasn’t expecting him to be but it’s to a point where it’s not even fun mean. He literally called Charlie’s endeavor “Daddy issues”. It felt like he was just there to slap Charlie in the face.

-Angel Dust rant is gonna be so long that I saved it for last.

I have to put it under the read more because of talk of SA! Fun!

Ok.

I’m saying this as someone who loved him from the pilot and was willing to excuse his behavior as “flaws he can work on” since Addict and everything else proved that there was more under the surface and he was a character that could change and grow and-

…

…

Angel dust, the rape victim… the guy running away from his abuser…

The Angel dust who has traumatic episodes so fucking graphic that he flashes back to them when he’s performing.

Saying “yeah no, fucking sexually exploit me! It turns me on!”

Viv, I know you’re not reading this but I mean this genuinely.

Fuck you.

As someone who’s family has experienced sexual abuse, as someone who’s family still has CPTSD because men in power decide to exploit them… how fuckin dare you make a character enjoy their own exploitation.

This isn’t me kink shaming a sexual character! He can be sexual and like sex! It’s never been the problem and hell it could of been liberation to have sex he deserves.

But no.

Let’s make the SA victim into the sexual harassment character, let’s make the SA victim the Stolas of the show where he wears down his love interest so thin that they have to give up.

Let’s make the SA victim still work under his shitty abuser, and make that into a joke as the abuser mentions wanting to rape everyone in the hotel.

Don’t pay to watch this show, I mean it.

Pirate it.

Hell don’t even watch it, find something better to watch. I’ve been binging anime as of late and I still like captain lazerhawk.

[samo64]

Baldi's Basics Headcanons that will never be canon but are funny to think about because they're living rent free in my brain

Playtime has extreme zoomies, like when something exciting happens she runs all over the walls and ceilings in the schoolhouse so fast not even the Principal could catch her, she's too fast!

Bully only bullies the player and not the other students because if he were to bully Playtime or Arts and Crafters he'd feel bad but with the player he don't care not even a tiny bit.

If the Principal were to open his eyes i think it would have a medusa kind off effect except he doesn't turn anyone into stone instead strikes fear into those who break the rules.

Since Johnny is the shop-keeper i think he would be also a school faculty member like the other staff, like he's the only teen who works in the faculty.

Gotta sweep would have an ability to switch broom brushes by jumping out of one so he's just the pole and jumps ans twists onto another.

Baldi since he's an Anim8tor model would have the ability to take parts of his body off with no blood or gore necessary but is there for comedic affect and don't worry he can easy re-attach them because his arms and legs are segmented.

Gotta sweep's heritage consists of cleaning products like mops, brooms and farm reapers.

1st prize's hands specifically his fingers would have some form of articulation where he can grip.

Dr. Reflex has seen how some people compare him to rodents and he takes quite offense to that.

Joe would be the one character that would make some memorable cameos kinda like Stan Lee in the marvel movies.

Mrs. Pomp's is more easly quick to anger than Baldi or Dr Reflex.

The Baldloons can phase through walls like actual ghosts and mostly travel in groups of five with Red considered the leader.

Null/Filename2 can communicate to his crab bink easily.

When Null/Filename 2 Sneezes he reveals his skin for a brief second.

Baldi and Principal made the murals in the detention room with the principal's mural being written by Baldi while Baldi's mural being written by the principal.

Baldi would have vivid memories of Susan and Andrew but are usually a blur

The other head's on Red Baldloon's body imitate the main head's expressions

The Baldloons can shape-shift into other people in the schoolhouse the only difference is that they can't change color or remove the party hats.

Red Baldloon loves to eat the walls, doors, entirety of the schoolhouse when he has the chance.

These ones are for PriniciBaldi shippers

if something goes horribly wrong in the schoolhouse to the point where everyone has to evacuate, Principal would rush in and get baldi holding him birdal style and Baldi thanking him by showering Principal in kisses leaving read lipstick marks.

Baldi would hug the principal too tightly making a cracking noise in the principal's spine.

If the principal were asleep in his office, baldi would come in say goodnight and give him a little kiss on the forehead.

Back to our regularly sceduled programming

i feel like Bladder loves Badsum too much.

The Test would carry around the chalkboard where chalkes is currently on so chalkles wouldn't have to fly off somewhere

[narfin-frood]

how do you plan the panel layouts for your comics? i always get stuck and it feels cramped or unsatisfying

okay so i went to college for 2 whole semesters and one of the only art classes i took (and definitely the only one i retained much from) was my sequential art & comics class. so i'm gonna try to explain my process in so many words, but there's a LOT of stuff that goes into a successful comic and i'm by no means a professional. i can however throw some tips and tricks and some recommended reading your way (another longpost ahead!)

first, know what you want to do. know where your comic starts and ends. if you find any joy in writing scripts, you can also do that, but i'm not the best at writing with no visual aide so i usually script while i thumbnail, but always make sure you've got a concept and a goal.

next, start thumbnailing. my initial thumbnails usually look like this:

(incidentally, my storyboard thumbnails look a lot like this, too)

there's no real structure, and i'm just noodling my way from the top left of the page to the bottom right. if you've got what you want from your comic in mind, this part can sometimes just pour out of you. i feel a very strong attachment to these characters and the situations i put them in, so that definitely has to do with how smoothly this part goes. draw the panels as small and as detail-free as possible. i usually don't do speech bubbles, and instead treat it like a storyboard, writing my rough script under the panels as i go.

once you're satisfied with the way your story is coming together, THEN you start laying your panels out. this part looks like this when i do it:

(these are actually from a gfalls comic i never cared to finish from like. five months ago but who's counting?)

honestly, it's best to do this as small as you can possibly get it, to really get your head out of the "but i have to fit all the panels exactly as i drew them on the page" funk. remember that, at least if you're writing the comic in english or other languages read in the same direction, that you're trying to lead the reader's eye from top to bottom and left to right. this is really hard to keep track of, and i still make mistakes and flub up the readability all the time. like here:

the panel layout should be reversed here. the panels in the top left and bottom right should be smaller than the other two, so the gutters would actually guide you to read it left to right instead of top to bottom, but laziness and initial drawing blindness struck me and i never fixed it.

once you have a layout that makes sense to you, it's as simple as blowing your thumbnails up to comic-size and going over your very rough sketches with your final clean panels & inks, or, if you're doing it traditionally, re-sketching your page on your big bristol board after doing some measuring to see where your panels should actually be.

there are other rules to keep in mind when you're in the thumbnailing phase of your comic, like the 180-degree rule (something that carries from film to animation to comics to, really, any form of sequential art), which is easiest to explain with a little diagram:

keeping this in mind really helps with readability. you can do a bunch of things with your angles, you can even omit the other character, but keeping them on the side of the frame you establish them on is very helpful. this is mainly for dialogue, but it does also help if you want to display one character walking in one specific direction, or if you want a fight scene to read as well as possible, etc.

and, if you look at your comic sketch now and think, hey, this looks great, this is so clear and easy to read, i highly recommend stepping away for a few hours to look at it again, or, if you're impatient like me, sending it to a friend. you're also totally welcome to send it to me, if you just need someone to tell you whether your comic is easily readable.

to learn more about drawing comics, i recommend two things. one, read some comics. by professionals in the industry, ideally, though there are many many competent and incredibly detailed comics by independent creators out there. people in the industry will (MOST of the time) be held to slightly higher standards of readability than the average independent artist, and the workflow for professional comics involves several people at once reading and reviewing and revising what's made so that it'll be digestible to the average audience.

two, i recommend getting your hands on a copy of "understanding comics" by scott mccloud. love this book. lots of comic artists love this book. it's fun and informative and packed full of tips, while also being a comic, which makes it even more fun to read. mccloud goes into a lot of detail on stuff i didn't mention, from the gutters between panels to lettering to working with other artists and writers and finding an art style that fits the story you want to tell. great stuff. go to the library, check it out. you won't regret it.

[yokumirumerafan]

MHA boys as parents

Should be interesting but some of it may be cringe ;-;

📢 Present Mic – THE EMBARRASSINGLY HYPED-UP DAD 🎤🔥

🟡 This man was MADE to be a dad. 🟡 Loud AF, but so, so loving. 🟡 Hypes his kid up over EVERYTHING. Their first steps? “YOOOOO! LOOK AT MY KID WALKIN’, THEY’RE A NATURAL!!” Their first word? “OMG, BABY, SAY IT AGAIN, I’M RECORDING.” Their first time riding a bike? He’s screaming, jumping, and running alongside them like a maniac. 🟡 His kid is super confident because he always hypes them up. 🟡 "OH, YOU MADE A DRAWING?? HANG THAT IN THE LIVING ROOM, IT’S A MASTERPIECE!!" (His house looks like a kindergarten art gallery.) 🟡 Embarrassing Dad™ – He drops them off at school and yells, "LOVE YOUUUU, BE GOOD, DON’T FORGET TO EAT!!" into a megaphone. The kid: 😐 "Dad. Please." 🟡 Karaoke nights are mandatory. Even if the kid sucks at singing, he’s right there with them, hyping them up like they’re a pop star. 🟡 Crybaby Dad™ – Cries at EVERYTHING. First school play? Tears. First sports game? Sobbing. "MY BABY’S GROWING UPPP!!" 🟡 Super protective. If someone bullies his kid, he WILL talk to the teacher (and also passive-aggressively make an entire radio segment about it).

💥 Bakugo – THE STRICT BUT SECRETLY SOFT DAD 🧨👶

❤️ Acts like he’s gonna be a tough dad. Ends up being lowkey soft. ❤️ "You’re gonna be strong like me, got it?" Meanwhile, his kid is sitting in his lap watching cartoons and eating snacks. ❤️ Acts annoyed, but he loves being a dad more than anything. ❤️ Strict but not unfair. He wants them to be strong and independent, but he also knows when to just be there for them. ❤️ If they get hurt? "Tch. You’ll be fine." Then immediately picks them up and checks for injuries. ❤️ Secretly spoils them. If they so much as LOOK at a toy in a store, he’ll be like, "Tch. Whatever." and buys it without hesitation. ❤️ If they cry? He panics. "Oi, oi, stop that! What do you want??" and does literally anything to make them stop. ❤️ Does not tolerate ANYONE messing with his kid. If a teacher is unfair to them? If another kid is bullying them? Bakugo is pulling up to that school immediately. ❤️ Biggest life lesson he teaches them: "You don’t take shit from anybody. Stand your ground."

🥶 Shoto – THE AWKWARDLY WHOLESOME DAD ❄🔥

🔴 100% the dad who buys parenting books and takes notes. 🔴 Super soft-spoken and gentle. Literally worships his kid. 🔴 "You’re the most important thing in my life." Says it with a straight face. 🔴 Lets his kid do ANYTHING to him. Paint his nails? Yes. Braid his hair? Yes. Climb on his back like a jungle gym? Of course. 🔴 So much forehead kisses. 🔴 If his kid ever gets sick, he completely PANICS. "What do we do? Do they need a doctor? Should we go to the hospital??" 🔴 BUYS THEM TOO MANY TOYS. "I thought this one looked nice too. And this one. And this one." 🔴 When they learn to walk, he just picks them up so they don’t have to struggle. “You don’t need to walk. I can carry you.” 🔴 His kid could commit a crime and he’d still defend them. "There must be an explanation." 🔴 Best bedtime stories. Reads them fairy tales in the calmest, most soothing voice ever.

🔊 Hawks – THE CHILL, FUN DAD 🦅💛

🟠 LOVES being a dad. 🟠 Picks his kid up with one arm like they weigh nothing. 🟠 "Flying lessons" start as soon as the kid is old enough to walk. 🟠 Too cool for his own good. Shows up to parent-teacher meetings like, "Yo, what’s up?" with sunglasses on. 🟠 Has a ‘playful’ parenting style. No strict rules, but somehow, the kid never steps out of line. 🟠 Calls them nicknames like "kiddo," "champ," or "little wing." 🟠 Tries to cook one time. Burns the kitchen. Never tries again. 🟠 Flirty Dad™ – Flirts with you in front of the kid. "Hey, kiddo, did you know your mom/dad is the most beautiful person ever?"

🔥 Dabi – THE “I’M NOT A DAD” DAD 🖤💙

🔵 Does not understand how he ended up with a kid. 🔵 Acts like he doesn’t care but actually does. 🔵 "I’m not your babysitter, go bother your mom/dad." Five minutes later, he’s making them grilled cheese. 🔵 Swears a lot. If the kid starts swearing, he acts all innocent like, "Where did they learn that??" (IT WAS YOU, DABI.) 🔵 If they fall down, he laughs first, helps later. 🔵 Puts his kid on his shoulders like it’s nothing. 🔵 Lowkey spoils them but denies it. "It was on sale, okay? It’s not spoiling." 🔵 Will 100% set things on fire for entertainment.

🕷 Sero – THE CHILL, GO-WITH-THE-FLOW DAD 🎭

⚫ The "Let’s build a pillow fort" dad. ⚫ Carries them everywhere. Lazy? "Alright, up you go." (Just tapes them to his back and keeps walking.) ⚫ Teaches them dumb tricks, like how to spin pencils on their fingers. ⚫ Movie nights every weekend.

💚 Izuku – THE SUPPORTIVE AND EMOTIONAL DAD 🥺

🟢 Loves his kid more than life itself. 🟢 Knows every milestone by heart. "Today is the anniversary of your first step!" 🟢 Watches them sleep and whispers, "I love you." 🟢 Will never, ever raise his voice at them. 🟢 Super involved in their school projects. "LET’S MAKE A POWERPOINT!"

[strangerthingsfanworkrecs]

Can I nominate rebelfell.

A truly gifted writer, her stories have me hooked and leave me day dreaming about the worlds shes created. An all round lovely human too, I’ve seen them add ideas and blurbs to posts/ fan art, makes moodboards and just generally spreads good vibes wherever she goes. such a joy to have someone so encouraging and supportive in this community 🖤

Introducing @rebelfell

We're highlighting Sarah for her written fics and moodboards! All recs tagged #rebelfell will be for her works. She answered some questions about her process below

What's a fandom interaction that made you really happy?

So aside from reblogs/commentary/any sort of engagement with a story (which is its own joy), I love the moments where we can be downright silly together. I think of fandom as a big sandbox where we’re all playing pretend, bouncing ideas off one another, and not taking anything too seriously. One person will post a random thought that will resonate with someone else and before you know it there are like 5+ people batting ideas back and forth, adding on and getting more ridiculous every time. It’s beautiful to see.

What's your favorite character or aspect of Stranger Things to create for?

The short answer is Eddie <3 He’s how I got into Stranger Things, he’s what’s kept me here, he occupies my brain permanently and I have no plans to evict him. But I love the interactions between all the characters, canon or imagined, and I love playing in a world that is semi-established, but that we can kind of make up our own rules for as well.

What's your artistic process like? Any tools you favor?

Bold of you to assume I have a process (just kidding…sort of)—but I think my process essentially boils down to chasing those moments of inspiration when they come rather than trying to force them. I’m always sort of writing in my head, and when I hear a line that actually sounds good, I do my best to get it down before it evaporates into the ether. I also like to just imagine scenarios or conversations and fill out the details of who is saying what and why later. Sometimes I’ll think of one good line of dialogue and that’ll be enough to carry me through a whole scene, and the scene will ideally be good enough to expand into a whole story. Like for The Third Date, the conversation in the second part came to me almost fully formed and I had to go back and write the first part to figure out how we even got there.

What was it like to work on the Third Date?

I wrote the bulk of The Third Date before I even dared to start posting my writing, and I think part of me believed I never would. The character borders on being an o/c, or more of a me-insert, but I was still learning the mechanics of x reader fics (I never even knew that was a thing before ST). In the description of the fic I pretty much say I wrote this to have someone say all the right things, and that’s what I got. But it was cathartic for me and by the end I felt compelled to share it because I was proud of it and because if there was someone else out there who it resonated with, I wanted to offer whatever sliver of comfort I could just by saying, “hey, I have this too, if you have felt these things or something similar, it’s not just you.” I feel like a lot of my work is just me calling out into the void like, “this isn’t just me, right? anybody?” And I’ve been so, so lucky to have people answer back.

What was it like to work on This Summer Is The Apocalypse?

This Summer is the Apocalypse, I did not plan on writing in the slightest. It came out of seemingly nowhere and just possessed me. All I had was this hazy vision of Eddie jumping in a pool, and this person telling him off. Then one night as I was falling asleep, I started hearing the lines in my head and I had to get up and get them down. It literally poured out of me in one night and I posted it thinking that was it. But then each new part kept coming to me just from reading people’s reactions and letting my imagination take over. People’s responses were so kind and they were so invested in what happened. Even when I got to the middle and had no real notion of where I was headed, talking it out was such a massive help. It was just Fun, and I fell so in love with the two of them and their little love story that I didn’t know was even gonna be a love story?? I included things that were going on in my life, and little cameos of real items I own. I put myself in that story, quite literally.

[falling-star-cygnus]

Heard you’re suffering artblock and want requests so uhhhh—

Alastor helping Lucifer with molting season?

i love you for this, dewflake :0

uhhh, i wrote this and then reread your ask and only just now realized it says art block and not writers block... hope you don't mind?

your pfp tho oml <3

{Alastor sneezes.}

{The feather that had drifted past his nose, tauntingly red, marks for the third occasion he's had to bat one of those blasted things away. Once he could dismiss as an accident, two an unfortunate coincidence, but three?}

{Why, it was practically a challenge!}

{Though... admittedly a messy one. Not to mention sloppy. You didn't see Alastor leaving the velvet from his antlers everywhere, now did you?}

{...that wasn't a bad idea actually. Not everywhere, of course, the Radio Demon had class. But maybe a hearty covering over a certain king of hell's pillow would be enough of a deterrent.}

{Why was Lucifer leaving his feathers everywhere? It was hardly his usual go-to for irritating the deer demon. Before he could dwell too long, however, a familiar chipper voice breaks into his thought process.}

"Oh! Alastor!"

{Charlie, he notes. She's carrying a stack of boxes that's leaning just a little too far forward for comfort and Alastor can't help but use his microphone to tilt them back into her hands properly.}

{Purely so it wouldn't fall on him, of course. Not because he didn't want the princess to hurt herself. That would've made excellent entertainment if he was standing maybe a foot to the left. That's what he'll tell anyone that asks. Until it's true}

"Ack- thanks, Al!" "No problem at all, my dear Charlie. May I ask why you're carrying such a heavy load? With no help for that matter."

{Alastor would've thought her little girlfriend would've leapt at the chance to help. Especially considering he could tell she still carried the guilt of keeping what she truly was a secret.}

"It's no worries! Juuust busy somethings around in storage. Oh, oh! Actually- do you mind checking on my dad?"

{The Radio Demon tilts his head to the side, wondering why in high hell the darling princess thought that that was a good idea. He goes to say as much when-}

"Please, Al? For me?"

{He chokes on static. Somehow, Charlie had managed to peek over her stack of luggage and flash the most horrendous pair of puppy dog- ugh dogs- pair of doe eyes at him}

{It's shameful how fast it works.}

"...obey the five-foot rule." "Yay! Oh, I could hug you right now!" "Do not."

{Charlie giggles, hefting her haul back into the crook of her arm with a nod}

"I would go myself, but this could be a good bonding opportunity for you two! He always gets like this this time of year..." "Oh? And here I thought he was a hermit year round, hahah!"

{Alastor doesn't stick around to see her expression.}

{Unsurprisingly, the feathers become a more and more common occurrence the closer he gets to Lucifer's gaudy apple tower. He'll have to loose Niffty in here sometime soon...}

{The deer half-debates just leaving, the king of hell is more then old enough to take care of himself. But- no, he gave Charlie his word. Not directly, there was nothing making him do this actually. So why does he want to...?}

{Alastor knocks}

"Huh- Uh.. who is it?"

{The door is opening before he can answer.}

"Now, now, your highness, you didn't even let me introduce myself!" "Ughh, what do you want, Alastor?"

{There's something itching at the back of his brain at the sight of Lucifer's unkempt wings. The way the feathers puffed and clumped up in some places, the ceiling high piles of red and white... hm.}

{He invites himself in}

"Wh- hey!" "Our dear Charlie sent me over, of course! Something about your current issue being a yearly problem?"

{It's highly amusing to watch Lucifer waffle around for an answer, starting one sentence just to abandon it for an accusation. It almost makes him laugh as he watches over his shoulder. It's only after a minute of watching that he realizes the king is shirtless.}

{The final piece clicks into place.}

"Oh, I see. You're molting, aren't you?" "How did you-" "I suppose this goes to show even the most powerful of beings have their troubles, hm?" "So you admit I'm stronger then you!"

{Alastor's eye twitches}

"You mean you were doubting it?"

{Lucifer scowls}

{The micro king of hell manages to keep the staring contest going for about 10 seconds before throwing his hands up to viciously scratch at one of wings. The rough movement has the deer cringing and smoothing himself out before Lucifer rounds on him again.}

"Can I help you?" "On the contrary, maybe I can help you."

{His royal shortness barely has time to blink before Alastor is shadow slinking behind him.}

{The Radio Demon shoves at his shoulder until the little king is face down on his bed and ignores whatever noises of protest he manages to make at the sudden treatment.}

"What are you doing- oh. Oh, that feels nice."

{Alastor had sunk his nails into the clump of loose feathers closest to the middle of Lucifer's back and begun to gently scritch at the muscle underneath it; effectively, the feathers ready to fall were taken care of.}

{It feels like hours later of this rinse and dry process before the purring King speaks up}

"You're good at this... you done this for that bartender of yours or something?" "HAH- no."

{The deer contemplates leaving it at that, keeping whatever this calm air is between them going and stable and safe. He's not sure why he doesn't.}

"My ma- my mother used to look after the ducks that came by the pond."

{If Lucifer notices the correction, he doesn't say anything. No, he stays quiet as Alastor dusts his loose feathers into an idle pile.}

"She taught me how to do it." "...she sounds nice."

{The Radio Demon hums, a familiar song drifting through his microphone. He vaguely remembers it as something that would play in the kitchen all those years ago. Hm... didn't his maman say that molting fowl needed more protein? Perhaps then he'll make jambalaya for dinner tonight. Just in case.}

"...she was."

[vaaaaaiolet]

Have u ever hit a hard core slump and if u have how did u get out of it ? 😭

hardcore slump, you say.

BOY HAVE I

tl;dr:

EAT WORDS

jot down stuff over time in a dump sheet with not a SINGLE intention of turning them into full-fledged writing

eject any self-imposed deadlines from your brain

and boom shakalaka YES GAWD you'll be writing again in no time.

what gets me into writing slumps is when i'm either:

1) not interested in the thing i'm writing about

2) frustrated with my writing quality.

if you go to my masterlist, the longest i've gone w/o posting anything is ~3 months but i've DEFINITELY had longer periods where i didn't write anything at all. they just happened before i started writing fic.

imo, a lot of that "stuck" feeling we associate with writer's block comes from not exposing ourselves to a variety of writing styles and getting stuck in the predictable flow of our own. this is where my EAT WORDS philosophy comes in.

i want you to get your hands on whatever writing (books, poems, shows, blogs, articles, nutrition labels LMAO) sparks ANY interest. act like you found an all-you-can-eat grazing table after 3 straight ramadans of fasting. DON'T STICK TO STUFF YOU'RE FAMILIAR WITH!! i was a voracious reader as a kid and that translated into a love for writing bc i learned about so many interesting words and ways to arrange them that i wanted to try doing it myself. get creative!! writing is a creative art!! YOU are a creative person. think of this as adding fuel to a depleted creativity tank.

then i want you to keep a running scrapbook doc of interesting words or phrases that you add onto whenever something strikes your fancy.

i'm talking less MLA citations and more like random musings that pop into your brain while watching sunlight stream through your kitchen windows, lighting up a bowl of mandarins into a thousand splendid suns (FANTASTIC book btw). collect quotes!! include screenshots!! notion is excellent for this but you can totally carry around an old-school notebook like a bona fide author too. don't let grammar rules get in the way!! stop judging yourself!! there's no such thing as a stupid addition to your blurb sheet. i'll even give you an example of how stupid you can be by showing you mine and you might recognize a few lines from my fics LMAO

this does 2 things: you get practice playing with phrasing without the metric ton of pressure that comes with "actually" writing, and you get a personalized bank of handmade writing prompts for the future that imo work better than the super blah generic ones on writing blogs from 2015.

and finally!! FORGET THAT YOU NEED TO WRITE

the more pressure you put on yourself to write the next classic novel, the less likely you are to get it done by any foreseeable deadline. if you give in to the writing slump demon whispering in your ear that YOUNEEDTOWRITENOWNOWNOW, you're not going to get anything done, trust me. reverse-psychology your writer's block by reading and feeding your creativity. being a writer also means being a reader. you can't be one without the other. take a backseat, let yourself love reading again. think of it as researching what it's like for the person on the other end of your future work; how are you going to write well if you don't even know what you like to read? let your creativity take a breather!!

if you're any kind of writer (which you are), the itch to write ALWAYS, inevitably comes back. before you know it, you're going to be scribbling on notebook margins and scrambling awake at 1 am to write down half-sentences. a slump is not the be all end all!! it's just your writing skills telling your brain that they needs time to catch up with your excellent creative vision :)

GO FORTH AND WIELD YOUR MIGHTY PEN, ANON!! i wish you the very best of luck in all your writing endeavors, and i hope this yapfest was somewhat helpful LMAOOO <3

[ask-de-writer]

CARAMEL TREAT’S FRIEND (1 part) an MLP Fan Fiction

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Caramel Treat’s Friend

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

© 2013 by Glen Ten-Eyck

1581 words

Cover art by Snowstorm, now @coinoperatedrejection

Writing begun 04/17/13

All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images provided that I receive a copy of each image for my archive. I will further allow the use of printed copies for educational use in school classes. No charge of any kind may be made for this use, whether paper, ink, binding, packaging, distribution or any other charge whatsoever.

///////////////////////

In the kitchen of her candy shop, Caramel Treat was humming to herself as she carefully added a few drops of a liquid that almost seemed to smoke to a small batch of her famous candy bubbling in a small pot. She stirred it with care and added dried clover blooms, popped wheat and barley to the candy. She poured the finished mass into a small rectangular mold to set.

While the candy was cooling, Caramel Treat put the tightly stoppered potion bottle onto the topmost shelf of a stout locked cabinet holding a surprising number of other bottles similar to it. Then she took the pan, stirring spoon and a few other implements and carefully heated them all to nearly red heat over the flame from the stove’s burner. That done, she put them into the sink to soak.

The candy was cool. She removed it from the greased mold and wrapped it in edible paper. The mold was treated just as the pan and spoon were.

Caramel Treat nickered happily to herself as she packed the result of her morning’s handiwork. She put her head out the kitchen door and told her assistant, Peanut Brittle, “I am going out for the day, Peanut. You may have to open in the morning too.”

Peanut Brittle’s palomino forelock lifted in surprise. “All day? Maybe all night?” With a knowing leer, she asked, “Really hot date? Hummm … I might use it for blackmail later, Boss!”

With a grin, Caramel Treat retorted, “You could try! You would fail! I actually do hope that it will be a hot date but it probably won’t be. I need to visit old friends in the Everfree and there is no way that I will try to come back through that place after dark.”

Her eyes wide, Peanut Brittle asked, “Who lives in the Everfree, besides Zecora, I mean?”

With a sly grin, Caramel Treat retorted, “Wolves, among others. Not telling, got it?”

Peanut Brittle snorted with good humor and replied, “Got it. Be ready to manage tomorrow’s opening, just in case. See you later, Caramel.”

Caramel Treat marveled once again at how, even on a warm day, the Everfree Forest could manage to feel so cool. In only a little time she veered away from the path to Zecora’s house. Her hooves made almost no sound on the moss of the forest floor. Soon she came to the ridge of tall rock and broken stone that she was looking for. Staying in the shade, she stopped short of the open sunlight on the broken granite of the ridge.

The sun was shining brightly on the forest canopy above. Shadows ruled the forest floor below, with only tiny intrusions of the light above. Caramel Treat called out in a quiet but carrying voice, “Show yourself, Fangrin. I know that you are here.”

Slinking around a large boulder, a gray wolf with black tips to his ears, his ruff and down his back to and including his tail, crept toward her. His jaws were slightly open and his fangs showed clearly.

One small shaft of sunlight piercing the gloom of the forest trees lit the hoof of Caramel Treat as she held out the nicely shaped mixed oat, wheat, and dried clover bloom caramel candy that she had just made that morning.

The wolf before her crouched low, his forelegs extended toward the little Earth pony, his hind legs compressed to spring. Caramel did not even flinch. She smiled serenely and said, “It is OK, Fangrin, I know your secret. I have not told anypony or any wolf. I promise that you are safe. With your wolf senses, you can tell that I am not lying.”

The shaggy head bobbed a few millimeters in agreement. Fangrin’s tail gave a small wag and went back to still. A voice that was hoarse and deep emerged from him. “I know that you are telling the truth. Truth does not answer why you are offering me THAT?”

Caramel Treat responded, “I told you that I know what your secret is, Fangrin. Think for a moment. How do I know that you HAVE a secret? How do I even know your name? The Pack does not let such things out lightly. Even the names of the Banished, like you are, are still kept secret. Yet I know your name.”

The wolf cringed down as if about to be struck a blow from an invisible foe. He covered his eyes with his forepaws and asked with outright fear, “How could you know that I was Banished? How can you possibly know what my secret is? Not even the Pack knew for certain. They cast me out because the wrongness that they could sense was incurable.

“Not the Pack Healer nor the Zebra Witch Zecora can heal me of the wrongness. Not even I Know why I have the wrongness in me.”

Confidently, Caramel Treat replied, “I can not heal you either. I do know what the wrongness is. You have been afflicted with a potion of Poison Joke.”

Now Fangrin sat up and snapped, “That cannot be! The Zebra Witch Zecora or the Pack Healer would have discovered that and cured it!”

Caramel Treat nickered her agreement, “If it was you who was exposed to the Poison Joke, you are right. They would have found it and cured it.

“It was your mother who was given a potion of Poison Joke by a jealous rival for your father’s affection. Your mother WAS healed as soon as it was known.”

Sadly, she continued, “It was not quite soon enough. Some of that poisonous potion reached her unborn pups. With the capriciousness of Poison Joke, it all went to a single pup. You.

“You cannot be healed because you were born with it and without it you will die.”

Fangrin curled a lip, baring fangs and demanded, “If I cannot be healed, then why do you taunt me? What will that silly pony candy do for me?”

Caramel Treat said bluntly, “Which of us is larger? Pony or wolf? The magic of Poison Joke can do many things but it cannot turn you into a giant or shrink you to an ant.

“It does make you change forms. Your pony form is like a foal in size. It weighs no more than you do now.”

Openly hostile, Fangrin snarled, “My wolf form has fangs to rend you!”

Caramel Treat retorted primly, “And my pony form has hooves that can kick you into the middle of the next moon if you try anything so foolish. Without a Pack to back you, those fangs of yours are only good if I flee. If I fight, you will lose!

“Change to your small pony form and take the treat. I have put a potion in it but it will not harm you.

“Think. You were born a wolf. The Pack has cast you out. There is no reason to stay a wolf. Become a pony. Grow big. Grow strong. Then, when you change, What will you be?”

Fangrin’s jaw dropped. “A monster wolf. Bigger than any other wolf in the Everfree!”

His jubilation stopped suddenly. Suspiciously he asked, “How do you know so much that no other knows?”

Casually, Carmel Treat answered, “Jealousy and Poison Joke potions are neither new nor restricted to wolves.”

Her smile grew and changed, fangs springing forth from her jaws. Her fur darkened, becoming shaggy gray with black tips. Her limbs changed. Her eyes went feral. Her tail changed. The biggest wolf that Fangrin had ever seen stood before him, still offering the treat.

“The same thing happened to me too. The humorous part of it all is that, as a pony, I have all of the sharpness of senses that any wolf has.” Curling lips away from huge fangs, she added, “Sharper, really. As a wolf they are sharper yet.

“I was back in the brush listening and watching while you were cast out. There is more but if you want to learn it, you must change to a pony. Take that treat and come with me.

“As I told you, the treat does contain a potion of my brewing. Instead of shunning the potion that nearly destroyed me, I embraced it. I have found and made many more. Using them showed me the nature of your secret. This potion will free you from forced changes under the rule of Luna. It will give you the control that you now lack.”

Her tongue lolling with the jest of it, Caramel Treat demanded, “Change. Eat. Join me. Learn to own and control your changes instead of letting them rule you.”

Giving the huge wolf in front of him a wondering look, Fangrin said, “It happened to you too? I am not alone?”

The huge shaggy head nodded in agreement. “You are not alone. Come with me. Hide safely among the other ponies while you grow.”

Drawing a deep breath and concentrating fiercely, Fangrin struggled to force himself to change. It was a slow and obviously painful process that twisted the wolf into a small, foal sized pony.

The monster wolf that was Caramel Treat smiled as she watched the tiny pony gobble up the candy. Her huge tail sweeping aside leaves and moss as she wagged it, she said, “We will be the best of friends, Fangrin. If things go well, we will be married by pony custom.

“Our foals will be like no others!”

–The End–

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[lovingu43vr]

Heavy

Ashton Irwin x reader

warnings: yearning (sooooooo much yearning)

Summary: Y/n and 5sos arent strangers, they have been close for quiet a time, only Ashton wants more. faceclaim: madison beer

disclaimer i kow the time is off but we vibe

liked by : ashtonirwin , maggielindemann and 337,895 others

y/username: Happy 9th anniversary to 6 minutes of winter❤️

tagged: @lukehemmings @calumhood @ashtonirwin @michaelclifford @5sos

- comments-

calumhood: hoe, the things you have lied about…

→ y/username: especially pertaining to your mom.

ashtonirwin: Fan behaviour.

→ y/username: TODAYYYY IM SEVEN THOUSEND MILES AWAY.

lukehemmings: so glad you captured my hatred for you in the 8th pic.

→ y/username: anything for luke lip ring to come back.

michaelclifford: Thank god you didnt forget cal's cameo in monsters inc.

→ y/username: how could i, its the only piece of art hes ever produced.

Cancelled Podcast.

tana: You're really close with guys from 5sos aren't you

brooke: they like ruled my teens. Luke hemmiings if you see this get your lip ring back.

Y/n: *laughs* yeah i am, we came into the industry around the same time. Its so scary being a 17 year old girl in the nusic industry.

Tana: no, i read your book 'the half of it' , the shit some people put you through is insane.

Brooke: i feel like you and Tana can relate alot, like you get hated on because your an easy target for the hate, like that one clip of you saying you were supposed to be in the video went viral and now people shit on you.

Y/n: Whats so funny about that is i wasnt even trying to be like obnoxious i was actually supposed to be in the video.

Tana: alot of people i feel shit on you out of jealousy, like your so fucking stunning and girls love to hate.

Brooke: That's so true, like i go on your instagram comments and its just these little ratty girls being like 'bitch who are you' like your Y/N fucking L/N thats who.

Tana: anyway i fear we got abit carried away there... are you dating anybody?

Y/N; pfft i wish... im too picky.

Brooke: so whats like your ideal type...if you choose evry trait of a person what would they be?

Y/n: oh god this is hard. Probably a musician, really creative they cant be boring... boring people scare me. probably quiet sensitive, big arms i love a large armed man, not like too in your face extraverted but enough to not be awkward around people. Loves nature.

*brooke stares at the camera*

brooke : guys take notes.

liked by : tanamongeau , calumhood and 5002,864 others

ashtoniwrin: 🤠

tanamongeau: oh i see.

user723: THIS CAN NOT BE A COINCIDENCE RIGHT?!!?

user5628: musician✅ big arms ✅ creative✅

extroverted but not too much ✅ sensitive ✅

loves nature ✅ Y/n COME GET YOUR MAN.

"Hey" Y/n hugged all the boys as she arriveda at Luke and Sierra's for the bbq. "Hey doll" Ashton kissed her forehead. This wasn't unusual Ashton was always very affectionate towards his friends. "Been making much music lately drummer boy?" Y/n swigged her beer resting her legs in Ashton's lap. "Nah not really" Ashton drummed on her calves. "Saw you went on a pod though, how was that?" Y/n grinned. "They are seriously the most amazing girls, like Tana read my book, can you believe that?" Ashtons eyes were fixed on her face as she smiled and he couldnt look away. Her long eyelashes the freckles that danced on her skin likeit was second nature. He loved the girl in front of him. "Ash" she stroked the hair out of his eyes. "oh sorry, daydreaming" Ashton cleared his throat. "Daydream away" y/n rested her head on his shoulder.

“Do you thinks he knows?” Cal nudged luke. “Nah, he’s always been like that with her, she wouldn’t know any different” Luke shrugged. Cal gave his friend a serious look. Luke sighed grabbing Mike and walking over to Ashton. “Emergency meeting now” Cal said to Ashton. Who raised his brow. “Sorry Y/n need to steal your pillow.” Luke practically dragged Ashton inside.

“What’s happened?” Ashton asked the boys. “You need to tell her” Cal spoke bluntly. “It’s now or never mate” Mike added. “No…No way” Ashton waved his arms about. “You need to tell her Ashton like seriously” Luke stared at Ashton. “For fuck sake” Ashton walked back outside.

“Hey can we have a talk?” Ashton said rubbing the back of his neck. “course” Y/n followed Ashton to the bottom of the yard. “I have something i need to tell you” Ashton wiped his palms. Y/n nodded encouraging him to carry on. “Im in love with you” Ashton blurted out. Y/n mouth hung open unsure of what to say. “I knew it was a bad idea why did i lis” He was cut off my a pair of lips on his. He grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her deeply. “You have no idea how long i waited to hear that” Y/n laughed. “No fucking way” Ashton grinned.

1 year later

liked by : maggielindemann, nessabarrett and 5millon others

y/username: Happy one year my love, i love you more than i can put in to words. I’m forever proud of you, you never cease to amaze me with your talent. I love you forever and Always ❤️ (yes this is a hard launch)

calumhood: FINALLY I CAN TELL PEOPLE

user368292: HELL YEAH!

useer388292: IM SO HAPPY? OH MY GOD? YEAHHHHH.

[ink-flavored]

Introducing the Antagonists

BTS Series: ⬅ Table of Contents - Reworking the Plot ➡ Also available on Neocities! P&J Taglist (Check out my Google form to get added): @elegant-paper-collection @auroblaze@zeenimf @vacantgodling @foxys-fantasy-tales Banner art by @auroblaze

With the leads out of the way, it’s high time we talk about the shiny new antagonists for Pride & Justice. And yes, that’s antagonists with an “s” because there are two of them! Since the fanfiction version of the story only had the two main characters in it, both of these antagonists are completely created by me. I also don’t have design references for them yet, so feel free to imagine them in your head.

The reason I have two antagonists when I could very easily just have one is based on a few things. For one, I thought it would be fun to have representatives from both Heaven and Hell, like Pride and Justice themselves, and create a neat mirror effect in the narrative. For another, there are multiple conflicts in the story—the conflict of Pride and Justice getting back to Heaven to complete the contract Pride made with that soul in Purgatory, and the conflict between Pride and Justice as they try to navigate their new lives and eventual romance. The dual-antagonists serve both conflicts, one for the over-arching plot that runs through the story, and another for the personal dynamic of their relationship, creating another wedge that they have to climb over to be together. I also wanted to take the opportunity to say that, while Heaven and Christianity deserve critiquing, just because Heaven is bad doesn’t mean that Hell is good. They’re both fundamentally flawed, for different reasons.

With all that said, let’s introduce the new players!

Honesty

I’ve always been really fascinated with the idea of a villain who believes what they’re doing is righteous and good. The kind of antagonist that is doing objectively horrible things from every perspective but their own, who can’t or won’t understand that the things they’re doing “for the greater good” aren’t doing any good at all. That’s the kind of person that Honesty is.

Honesty is, like Justice, an angel that embodies the virtue of her namesake. She is physically incapable of telling a lie, and follows the word of God to a tee. After all, God’s word is the truth of the world. She knows her place—it is to serve Heaven and fight against Hell at any cost. Every angel in Heaven knows their place too, and deviating from it is a non-issue. If you aren’t serving God, specifically if you aren’t carrying out His word to the letter, you aren’t doing your duty as an angel. You deserve retribution and punishment for it. You deserve to be sent to Hell for it. After all, that is God’s word. You can’t refute that because she can never lie.

In her own mind, all she’s doing is keeping things the way they should be. Angels are taught, created for, and trusted to serve God’s will for the good of His children and the world at large. Pride is a speck to her, a lost cause she won’t even bother sympathizing with. He’s already lost. What really makes her mad, what sends her on the crusade that leads to the entire story, is Justice defending him. He’s breaking the laws he promised to serve, defying God for a demon, of all things. She places herself at the head of the mission to bring Justice back under the banner of Heaven, send Pride to his death like he deserves, or bring them both down.

From our perspective, she clearly sucks. Pride dying would have other far-reaching consequences beyond killing a single demon. Killing the innocent person he just happens to be carrying along with him is bad, actually, and Justice pointing that out shouldn’t immediately send him to the same fate. That doesn’t matter to her. They’ve both made themselves enemies of God by defying His word, and now they are her enemies too. And she’s right. They aren’t following the rules. Pride for obvious reasons—he doesn’t care about God’s rules—but Justice really has no excuse here. He’s an angel advocating for keeping a demon alive. No matter the reason, the ends should justify the means for him. But they don’t. He is wrong, and Honesty is going to show him what happens to angels who are wrong.

The point of Honesty being legitimate in her grievance is not to make a point about how being anti-authority and breaking the rules is always awesome (although it is), it’s to show that those rules she’s enforcing—even if she is telling the truth—are flawed. The law is unjust, and following an unjust law makes you unjust, and Justice won’t sit idly by and accept it like he’s supposed to. The problem with that is that he’s lower on the hierarchy than God. Literally everyone is. To Honesty, the law being unjust doesn’t matter. Things in life being unfair doesn’t matter. Innocent people dying—like killing a soul along with the demon ferrying it—happens sometimes in the name of the greater good. Tough shit. God said so, and it’s not your place to have an opinion about the word of God. Do as you’re told.

If you haven’t picked up on it already, Honesty is going to be the main vehicle for which I drive my criticism of American Evangelical Christianity. Evangelicalism, if you’re unfamiliar, (and I’ll be paraphrasing) is the sect of Christianity that reads the Bible literally, as if it is without fault, and is the perfect way to practice your faith—it’s called “biblical literalism.” One of their core tenants is to proselytize everywhere, to everyone, to save their souls for the second-coming, which they also fervently believe will happen. They genuinely, honestly believe they are spreading the good word—the word “evangelical” comes from the Greek word for "good news"—and saving lives. Which is also why, if you’ve noticed, that they preach to anyone regardless of interest or religion, treat any rejection of Christianity as a personal attack, and why they have worked to criminalize abortion, deny the theory of evolution, lambast same-sex marriage, and in general push traditional (read: conservative) thinking when it comes to authority and social practices. Obviously, this is a generalization of a very large sect of a very large religion, but if you’ve been paying even a little bit of attention to American politics over the years, this specific type of Evangelical Christian is going to sound familiar. It’s what I aim to critique in Pride & Justice, and I have no problems stating that Honesty will embody this way of thinking.

Now, I bet some of you are wondering why I made Honesty a woman (specifically a white woman, but I don’t have a design to show you). Surely if my goal is to critique the traditionalist views of the Evangelical Christians, surely a man in a position of authority would be more accurate? While I can see that perspective, I’d argue that God is that man in a position of authority here. Honesty is—like a lot of Evangelicals in real life—simply the “innocent” white woman who uses her relative position of power to crack down on anyone she sees as deviant. People often ignore the ways women perpetuate systems of oppression like patriarchy, because women are oppressed within that system. But a lot of the reason that patriarchy persists is by women passing down patriarchal standards in their homes to their families, in classrooms, and in public places. If you want to go deeper, it’s well documented that white women will use their relative status to perpetuate racism, homophobia, and transphobia. Historically, white women have perpetuated anti-Black racism by falsely accusing Black men and boys of rape to get them arrested, beaten, or killed. For a modern example, look no further than the rise of TERFs (Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminists), a group that is overwhelmingly made up of white Christian women with traditionalist values fighting against their own self-interests, all in the name of perpetuating transphobia. Honesty represents a real demographic that often gets ignored in the fight against inequality.

I’m not sure I’ll portray Honesty as openly bigoted in the story (she’s not a human, angels don’t really have concepts like gender or race), but she is definitely not a fan of Pride or Justice, and finds the idea that they would ever be in a relationship as at best laughable, and at worst a manipulation. It’s against God, after all, for an angel and a demon to collaborate, much less be in love, so therefore if it’s real it must be destroyed, and if it’s false it must be revealed that it was always a fiction—and therefore destroyed. She is going to try a lot of things to try and get Justice to “see the light" once again, turn him against Pride, and follow-through with her promise to smite him like she intended to before they escaped. All of them will fail, though it will not be without a fight.

Beyond the political stuff, I’m excited to weaponize her inability to tell a lie. It’s really going to add a new flavor to the kind of story I’m able to tell with her, and I think it adds a very cool depth. How do you argue against someone who can never tell a lie? How do you show them they’re wrong, even when they’re technically right, and retroactively make their previous statements untrue? What is the truth, how do you measure it? Is the truth an innate state present in the universe because it’s always been there, or is it a matter of personal perspective?

So, that’s Honesty. Get excited to love to hate her!

Lust

[content warning for emotional abuse, mentioned sexual assault]

Our representative of Hell was genuinely a hard one for me. When I had the idea to create a second antagonist, I knew I wanted whoever it was to be a personal antagonist for Pride. He’s the one with the most emotional baggage that he needs to overcome to let himself be in a relationship with Justice, and the demon crawling out of Hell would obviously only be familiar with him, and couldn’t really have a vendetta against both of them (at least, not at first). Making it Lucifer would be a little much—why would the ruler of Hell care about one demon? I puzzled over the remaining six of the seven sins, debating which one Pride was most likely to have a personal history with, good or bad. Ultimately, I landed on Lust as the one that made the most sense, which made things harder if I’m being honest.

Personally, I despise that lust is even a part of the deadly sins at all. I think that the idea of lust—a real and valid human emotion—being something that eternally damns you is ridiculous and complete bullshit. It necessarily demonizes sex and sexuality as sinful, which has paved the way for a lot more dangerous bullshit, and shunts an entire category of human expression and connection into the Bad Person Slot. Further, I absolutely despise how lust is often portrayed in media—the one, single sexy woman in a conga line of generic looking men in business suits, and of course the one fatphobic caricature for gluttony. I knew if I was going to make Lust-the-character a significant part of my story, I was going to need to do some serious work in portraying it to make it palatable to even myself.

The first thing I did was completely erase the concept of chastity as a virtue. I’ve replaced it with the virtue of passion, something I think better reflects lust on the whole, and I didn’t have any plans to include a chastity angel in the story anyway. Next, I am going to include a plain-text, inescapable, definitive defense of sex and sexuality using the existence of an angel of passion in the story. I already planned to do a subtle exposition dump of Heaven and Hell when Justice is feeling homesick, and that would be the perfect time to bring up something like him being friends with Passion. Probably because Pride was implying that Heaven is all stuffy and no fun. Either way, full and rigorous defense of sex is going to happen, just so everyone is clear about what kind of story this is. And finally, redefining what Lust-the-character actually represents.

Lust is sex doll. The form it chose, and how it presents itself in the story, is as a life-size sex doll, with the addition of smoking horns and a tail like Pride. It does not move its mouth to talk, speaking through telepathy. It can barely move on its own, sitting limp or lying flat, moving in only the barest twitches. If you haven’t picked up on it yet, Lust uses it/its pronouns. It is quite literally a sex object, something that is purpose built for a single-minded, selfish pleasure. It doesn’t matter if Lust enjoys it or not. That’s not the point. The point is that there is this thing that is here for you, and you can do whatever you want.

That’s the kind of lust considered abhorrent and sinful in this story. The kind where you don’t care about, nor even stop to consider, what your partner(s) think. If your sex is not negotiated between all parties, if it isn’t enthusiastically consensual, if you can’t be bothered to take your partner(s) feelings, wants, desires, and pleasure into account, you’re sinning. At best, this makes you a bad sexual partner, using people as sex toys for the sole purpose of getting you off. At worst, you are a rapist.

There are other things people lust for—lust for power is an obvious one. You want to lord over others, to wield your selfishness maliciously, disregarding if and how you hurt others. Generally, though, my version of lust is not about wanting to have sex and then going directly to Hell. In fact, the idea of thoughts = sin is something I’m also getting rid of in this story, but I’ll get into it another time. My version of lust is about being consumed by single-minded desires, including sex, that push you to treat others as disposable. Lust is an object because that’s how people committing this sin view others—tools to be used, abused, and thrown away when they have what they want.

Speaking of “wanting,” what does Lust want with Pride? What is that personal history I hinted at so many paragraphs ago? Well, you may be shocked to find that it isn’t a very nice one.

Like I mentioned in his post, Pride uses his arrogance as a shield to hide the fact that he desperately needs and wants people to like him. As a byproduct of his turbulent past (being rejected by Heaven, burning alive in a river of fire, etc.), he craves the validation of others to tell him that he’s very good and special and the bestest demon guy ever. He’s insecure, put shortly, and will take anything he can get when it comes to attention and/or affection. Enter Lust, who happened upon Pride at the right time, and basically thought, “Oh boy! A body I can exploit!”

There were no real feelings on either side, so what they had wasn’t necessarily a “relationship,” but they were involved, and it was abusive. Lust picked up on the fact that Pride needed validation and decided to make sure he wouldn’t ever be able to get it from anyone else. It berated him for being clingy, insisted no one else would bother putting up with him, and generally fed into the insecurity he tries to hide by confirming it as true. Agreeing that he’s unworthy of the affection he craves so much of, and actually he’s pathetic for wanting so much of it. Ego damaged, Pride would lash out and disappear for a while, but the creeping sense of loneliness from his insecurity would always return. Convinced that Lust was the only way he would ever get attention, he returned to it again and again.

Breaking him down made Lust feel powerful—it had complete control over Pride. No matter how many times he said this was the last time, it knew he would eventually come crawling back. Whereas Pride needs affection to function, Lust needs a power trip.

Eventually, though, Pride stops showing up. This is upsetting for a while, but then rumors start flying around Hell that Pride busted out of Heaven with an angel. And now they’re… living on Earth together? Lust is outraged by this news, in no small part because if Pride never comes back to Hell, it loses a source of its own security. It might lose its hold over him altogether, and that absolutely will not stand. Throughout the story, Lust shows up to try and convince Pride to give up. That whatever he has with Justice won’t last, that Justice will eventually get bored and/or sick of him, that an angel of all things could never possibly tolerate him, much less love him. Some of the other deadly sins show up too, though less persistently, and with a lot less to lose.

EDITOR’S NOTE: I’m toying with the idea of Lust enlisting other demons to find Pride for it, and harass him into coming back to Hell. I didn’t have a reason for any of the other deadly sins show up, but this would give them a purpose: annoying Pride—on Lust’s behalf, probably for some sort of bribe—to make sure he doesn’t think he’s all that just because he shacked up with an angel.

Lust’s role in the story is to serve as a representation of Pride’s insecurity, and the abusive relationship he has with himself sometimes. Pride routinely denies himself the ability to be vulnerable based on his ego and believes he won’t be worthy of love if he is vulnerable. Defeating Lust is a metaphor for him overcoming not just his past abuse, but his feelings of insecurity.

In a weird way, I am excited to write Lust. It’s going to be a creepy-horror-movie-haunted-doll type of character, which is a way I don’t think people expect a “lust” character to act, so I’m interested in seeing everyone’s reactions.

Also, an important note! Lust is not going to be the only it/its pronoun user in the story, I am not unaware of how that looks. I’m still creating all the side characters, but since Justice makes a lot of friends on Earth, I am fully planning on populating the most-seen characters with at least one other it/its user.

Anyway! Those are the antagonists of the story! What do you think? I’d love any and all thoughts!

Thanks as always for your support!

— Annika