#the color of the ink is dark but shifts between different dark shades of color tht r alllmost black

[arcadequeerz]

Did I ever tell you guys I decided on a name for the God Janus makes his 'pact' w?

Shout out 2 my friend who helped me w it but:

The Revisionist

But they're also known as:

The Author of Revisions The Author who Revises 'An Author's Revisions'

Technically this isn't her 'true' name but its something people can actually speak so! it works.

[animaginaryartblog]

[Image ID: six digital drawings of different designs for Sonic the Hedgehog, arranged in two rows. The background is plain white. Handwritten notes comment on certain aspects of the designs.

Starting from the top left is Sonic the Hedgecat (aka Daybreak Sonic). This is the Light Gaia counterpart to Sonic the Werehog. Hedgecat Sonic is lean and slender, with large ears, a long tufted tail, and sharp, insectoid green wings. His blue fur is several shades lighter and paler, though his muzzle, underbelly, and paws remain dark brown. His quills have turned a pale orange with white tips, turning up slightly at the ends. The tip of his tail and the tips of his claws are also orange. His eyes are a bright lime green, with white where his pupils should be.

To the right of the hedgecat is a soft redesign of the Werehog, now also known as Nightfall Sonic. In this form, Sonic's build is less slender and more bulky, with fluffier fur, broader shoulders, and thicker limbs. His quills are far thicker and fluffier. His ears are small and pointed, curving slightly inward. His eyes are dark green, and his pupils are enlarged, the black almost engulfing the green completely. His fur is a desaturated blue, and his quills are dark purple, with black spreading from their tips like ink. His large claws and short, wolf-like tail are tipped with the same black.

The rightmost design in the top row is Twilight Sonic, a fusion of hedgecat and werehog. Twilight Sonic's fur is darker than the hedgecat's, brighter than the werehog's, and more saturated than both. His green eyes, likewise, are somewhere between the hedgecat's bright lime and the werehog's dark forest. The Twilight form has the hedgecat's insectoid wings, but they are now a cooler green, and have a bend in the middle like an arm. The edges of the wings are worn and tattered. His tail is longer than the werehog's, but shorter and fluffier than the hedgecat's. His quills are dark blue, with pale blue on their bases near the head and on their upward-curving tips. His tail, similarly, has a pale blue tip with a ring of darker blue below.

In the bottom left is Super Sonic. His fur is a rich gold-orange. His quills are pale yellow and curve smoothly upwards, not just at the tips like the hedgecat's. His eyes are purple, with light purple pupils; text beside them notes that they can shift color depending on his mood, but are usually purple.

To the right of Super Sonic is Nega Sonic. Nega Sonic's colors are the inverse of regular Sonic. His fur is a rusty orange, and instead of dark brown, his muzzle and underbelly are a pale, icy blue. His quills are pale yellow, like Super Sonic's, but don't curve up. His eyes are pure black with magenta irises and white pupils, and his teeth are likewise black with white edging.

Finally, in the bottom right corner, there are two designs for Sonic as a toddler and a child. Behind them is a png of his teen design (said teen design can be seen here) for comparison, at a slightly lower opacity than the rest of the drawings. Toddler Sonic (in the 2-3 year age range) is very small, his head only reaching to just above teen Sonic's knee. He is chubbier than his older selves and has stubbier limbs. His ears, on the other hand, look far too big for him. His fur is paler than teen Sonic's, while his eyes are much darker, almost black.

Child Sonic, who is somewhere in the 7-11 year age range, has richer colors than Child Sonic, but still lighter than teen Sonic's. His eyes are more obviously green, but still darker than his teenage self. He is brown markings have a reddish hue. He is much taller and leaner than toddler Sonic, but still a head shorter than his teenage self. His ears still look oversized. /end ID]

can't make a redesign of Gaia AU Sonic without taking his transformations into account. these are all still rough drafts, mostly so I could test how the new, still developing design would fit with his different forms. it was also a chance to play around with colors. shout out to my brother for giving my feedback despite knowing full well I would go with the opposite of whatever he said. you're a real one Iz.

another big sketch dump below, with some bonus Blazes and Pretzels because you know I love my cat girls. Mario might also be in there, dunno what that was about. once again not ID'ing the sketches because they're just. a lot. there's a lot of them and they're repetitive. don't worry about it.

[selectiveminerals]

Exploring Black Iron Oxide: Composition, Properties, and Industrial Significance as a Pigment - Selective Minerals

Black iron oxide, a widely used substance with a striking black color, possesses unique characteristics that make it highly valuable in various industries. In this blog post, we will delve into the world of black iron oxide, examining its composition, properties, and exploring its industrial applications, particularly its significance as a pigment.

 1. Understanding Black Iron Oxide:

Black iron oxide, also known as magnetite or ferrous ferric oxide (Fe3O4), is a naturally occurring mineral. It is primarily composed of iron and oxygen and belongs to the oxide mineral group. The distinct black color of black iron oxide arises from its high iron content.

 2. Composition of Black Iron Oxide:

 Black iron oxide consists of two main elements: iron (Fe) and oxygen (O). The ratio of iron and oxygen atoms determines the chemical formula Fe3O4. It forms cubic or octahedral crystals and exhibits a metallic luster.

 3. Properties of Black Iron Oxide:

 Color: Black iron oxide possesses an intense black hue, making it popular in various applications.

 Magnetism: Due to its high iron content, black iron oxide exhibits magnetic properties, attracting ferromagnetic materials.

 Stability: It is stable under normal conditions and resistant to heat, light, and chemicals, ensuring its durability in diverse environments.

 Density: Black iron oxide has a relatively high density, which contributes to its applications in various industrial processes.

 Conductivity: It exhibits both electrical and thermal conductivity, leading to its use in certain applications.

 4. Industrial Applications of Black Iron Oxide:

 Pigments: Black iron oxide is extensively used as a pigment in industries such as paints, coatings, inks, and dyes. Its deep black color provides excellent tinting strength and opacity, making it ideal for achieving rich, dark shades.

 Magnetic Recording Media: The magnetic properties of black iron oxide find application in magnetic recording media such as audio and video tapes.

 Catalysts: It serves as a catalyst in various chemical reactions, including the synthesis of ammonia and the water-gas shift reaction.

 Magnetic Fluids: Black iron oxide is utilized in the production of magnetic fluids used in the automotive and electronics industries for applications such as damping systems and magnetic seals.

 Polishing and Abrasives: Due to its hardness, black iron oxide is employed in polishing and abrasive applications, including metal polishing, grinding wheels, and sandpaper.

     5. Significance of Black Iron Oxide as a Pigment:

 Black iron oxide holds immense significance as a pigment due to its:

 High opacity: It provides excellent coverage and hides underlying layers, making it valuable for creating deep, intense colors.

 Chemical stability: Black iron oxide withstands exposure to various chemicals, ensuring the longevity and colorfastness of pigment-based products.

 UV stability: It exhibits good resistance to fading when exposed to ultraviolet (UV) light, making it suitable for outdoor applications.

 Cost-effectiveness: Black iron oxide is a cost-effective pigment option, offering an attractive balance between performance and affordability.

 Conclusion:

  Black iron oxide, with its unique composition, remarkable properties, and intense black color, plays a crucial role in various industrial applications. As a pigment, it provides depth and opacity to paints, coatings, inks, and dyes. Its chemical stability, UV resistance, and cost-effectiveness make it an ideal choice for a wide range of products. Understanding the composition, properties, and significance of black iron oxide allows us to appreciate its multifaceted role in different industries and highlights its enduring value as a versatile pigment.

[soulsalight]

The concern doesn't ease entirely just yet, but when Hien leans against him he at least feels reassured Hien is not having another relapse. However, his hold on Thancred's thigh is firm, not painful, but enough to communicate his wish for him to stay close.

Thancred covers the hand grasping at him with his own, coaxing Hien to let go and hold his hand instead while he struggles his way through the words to explain.

His brows furrow further, guilt bubbling up inside of him as well. He should have known it would not be this easy, from what he has seen of Hien's trauma, and his at times near desperate need for closeness. He should have known. His thumb absentmindedly strokes the side of Hien's hand as he thinks on what Hien is saying. He could reassure him with words, tell him he doesn't feel like Hien is a burden at all, but something tells him that the other man would doubt him no matter what he says.

So, he opts for a different approach.

He squeezes Hien's hand once and then lets go to instead move his arm around Hien's shoulders to hold him against his side. Thancred sighs, already feeling his own tension ease as he turns his face into Hien's hair, feeling the other instinctively turning into his hold to nuzzle at his neck.

The way his breath ghosts against the sensitive skin there, especially around the lines of the tattoo decorating his neck has him supress a shiver. It's a cluster of flowers in various states of bloom, inked with delicate lines of bordeaux and black, not fully filled with color, but rather only slightly shaded, using the tone of his skin for the lighter parts. --Wild roses -- Thancred explained to Hien the first time he asked about it, although at the time Hien didn't ask as much in words as he did by hesitantly touching the lines and tracing them near reverently, interest shining clear in his eyes. Thancred encouraged him to look and touch to his heart's content, thinking that once his curiosity was sated, Hien would move on from it.

However, ever since then Thancred feels Hien uses whatever excuse he can find to snuggle against his neck, more so than he did before and it never fails to have his heartbeat spike and cause Thancred to fight down a wholly inapropriate rush of warmth.

It was obvious enough before that nuzzling against the crook of his neck is a source of comfort to Hien most of all, but sometimes Thancred can't help but wonder if there is another reason behind this, apart from Hien's tactile nature.

To distract himself from his own thoughts Thancred once again tugs at Hien to have them settle on the couch more comfortably, the proximity by now familiar enough that the awkwardness from a few days prior is no longer as stark as it used to be.

"Believe me, I'd rather lounge here with you than brood over my mediocre manuscript." He quietly confesses after a short while in which Hien seems to settle down again. He sighs again, some tension creeping back into his own shoulders as he thinks about the work he has yet to do. "I've been putting this off for so long, even before I met you... And now I'm in a bit of a predicament time-wise." The deadline is next week. He slouches back, causing Hien to shift as well and they move around a but until Hien's head rests in his lap and Thancred can gently comb his fingers through his hair to have him settle.

His own head turns so he can look at his laptop looming on top of his desk, staring him down from across the room. "It's not like I've been getting anywhere anyway... I'm still stuck." He admits then, turning one of Hien's long dark strands of hair between his fingers. Now he is the one fidgeting. "I've maneuvered the story into a dead end it seems and now I can't get it out. In all honesty I have half a mind to start over..."

soulsalight​:

Thancred orders a large pizza for Hien and one for himself, noting with no small amount of amusement that the one Hien points at on the menu is one with three kinds of meat, just as he expected. He shakes his head when the other man tilts his head at him in turn and then decides he’d get something similar, although he settles for chicken and a variety of vegetables as his topping of choice.

It doesn’t take too long for the food to arrive, but when the delivery person rings the doorbell the sound finds Hien and Thancred both dozing on the couch, once again tangled in eachother while the tv plays some movie they chose at random earlier.

Thancred extracts himself from beneath Hien’s weight and throws on a shirt to receive their order. When he returns to the couch he finds Hien sitting there, in happy anticipation.

They make short work of their respective food, although in the end Thancred offers half of his own pizza to Hien when he notices him eyeing it, apparently still hungry, even though he doesn’t say it outright.

Thancred is impressed by the amount of food his newly found companion basically inhales within such a short amount of time and briefly wonders if Hien went hungry after what Thancred assumed to be a hefty amount of pancakes earlier as well…

In any case he makes a mental note of Hien’s appetite, realizing that he’d have to head to the store soon if he wants to keep him fed properly.

However, the thought of leaving Hien here, alone, with the state he’s seen him in doesn’t sit quite right with him. Maybe in another day or two... He thinks with a slight furrow to his brow and then silently settles on that decision. He should have enough money left over this month to order food a few days in a row, even with the amount of food Hien needs in mind.

With both of them sated, laziness befalls them, the kind that one experiences after a good meal and it’s not long before Thancred once again finds himself pressed close to Hien’s form, his weight already a comfortingly warm and reassuring one, despite the many questions brimming in his mind and the way it occasionally hits him that Hien is still not wearing any clothes.

They spend this day and the next like this, mostly sprawled atop the bed or the couch, legs tangling. Hien sleeps a lot Thancred notes, which he suspects is from the trauma, fragments of which he has seen, or Hien shares with him at random. Its always but a few sentences and he quickly falls silent again so Thancred doesn’t press him, only happens to hold him a little tighter, or press himself that much closer.

He tells him things about himself then, random things, like the fact that when he isn’t writing he likes to play the guitar, an acoustic guitar and an E-guitar mounted above his desk paying testament to that. He also admits to composing his own songs at times even though he can’t say they are any good.

Hien sometimes points out things around the apartment and it always has Thancred explaining at length where he got them or who the people in the photos are that are pinned the fridge or set up on some shelves.

For all his usual preference for privacy and solitude in his own home, he feels himself quickly becoming used to Hien being here in his space. They fit somehow, which only grows more apparent the more Hien opens up. The more he shares things with Thancred in turn, the more his intelligence and humour shines through the sadness and trauma and Thancred can’t help but be captivated by his smile the first time he makes him laugh.

Its by day four that Thancred decides he really needs to get back to working on his book and so after lunch he announces as much and settles at his desk instead of the couch.

About an hour later he sees Hien become more and more fidgety from the corners of his eyes and when he turns to look at him Hien meets him with a look of such dejection and loneliness that it tightens his own chest.

Thancred blinks, brows furrowing in concern. “What’s wrong?”

The next few days pass in somewhat of a haze, his mind yet struggling to readjust properly to waking up to comfort and care rather than fear and pain, even with regular meals and regular sleep greatly improving his physical health. The weight of his loss doesn’t ease, not exactly, but with each new day away from his captors and in an environment that feels safe, free from memory, he becomes a little stronger to bear it.

And throughout it all, there is Thancred. 

Thancred, who holds him through his nightmares and soothes him through his fears. Thancred, who seems to take all his peculiarities in stride, who never makes him feel foolish even when he messes up, like the time he’d started eating with his hands rather than knife and fork, or the time he’d automatically crouched down on all fours to walk, forgetting for a moment that he was no longer shifted. 

Thancred, who never complains about Hien’s constant demand for attention, who allows him to stick close to him in bed or on the couch, who even seems to encourage it. Thancred, who never pushes for answers though Hien knows he has questions, endlessly patient and willing to wait for him to find his words, while offering up pieces of himself and his life so readily in return. Thancred, who always seems to know just what he needs and never seems reluctant to provide it.

Hien loves him.

Not quite romantically, maybe, though it could so easily become that, but like he would his own pack. With the other, everything becomes just that little easier, that little brighter, each new thing he learns pushing him to offer more of himself as well. Bringing him a little closer to who he used to be. 

But of course, even with the steadfast care of Thancred’s touch and consideration slowly putting him back together, making him smile more, talk more, he is still far from alright. The nightmares don’t cease. He still cannot speak of his captivity without clamming up, has not been able to speak of his own family yet at all and anything unexpected still has him flinch and withdraw into himself more often than not. 

The guilt and shame too remain. Despite Thancred’s lack of judgment and his endless patience, Hien cannot help but feel like a burden at times, wishing he could just improve faster.  Wishing he could be less selfish in all he asks for from him. God only knows the other man likely has far better things to do than babysit him despite his lack of complaint. 

So when Thancred announces his intent to work, settling down at his desk rather than on the couch as usual, Hien tries, he really tries to let Thancred write. He does a good enough job at it too, he thinks, ignoring the hollow ache in his chest, the way his skin prickles with cold or his shoulders round in dejection, forcing himself to focus on the low bur of the TV in front of him even though his attention frequently moves from there to where Thancred sits, just to make sure he is still there, trying to ignore just how on edge he feels. 

It is only when Thancred turns to look and Hien’s eyes immediately meet his, his movements stilling,  that he knows he failed. 

His head ducks, heat rising to his cheeks. His jaw sets, bottom lip released from where he’d been chewing on it nervously and with a sharp huff of air he forces his fingers to dig into his palms to stop them from fidgeting. 

“ It ━ nothing, “ He tries to press out, the lie an obvious one gauging from the disbelieving look on Thancred’s features. Still, he refuses to relent, swallows down the you are too far away lying on the tip of his tongue, stubbornly glaring at his knees because Thancred wants to work and Hien needs to let him, needs to be able to let him.

And still, the sound of a chair scraping back and soft footsteps approaching has him stupidly, foolishly hopeful, and the touch of Thancred’s palm hot against his shoulder causes a shudder and a wavering gasp. His body reflexively slumps into Thancred’s side the moment he sits down next to Hien, eyes blinking dazedly. Unbidden, his hand find Thancred’s thigh, fingers curling against the fabric of his joggers, wishing he could feel skin instead. 

He raises his gaze then, his expression sheepish and a little shamefaced. “ You don’t need to ━ I don’t want to be ━, “ Twice, he breaks off, not quite able to find the words, a frustrated little growl escaping him. He breathes out, tries again. “ I don’t want to burden you. “ Not more than he already is. 

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝑷𝒕.2 (𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑲𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒆𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈) 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

Part One

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐄𝐦𝐨/𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡! 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 (𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳)× 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞) × 𝐒𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐢! 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠 (𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳)

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐀𝐔

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖.𝟓+𝐊

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠��: 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞/𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞/𝐝*𝐜𝐤 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐯𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 × 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧), 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐦! 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐦!/𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐮𝐛! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @seacottons @little-precious-baby @speronyx @pirate-hongjoong @multidreams-and-desires @cloudyyeonnie

━━━━━ • ஜ • ❈ • ஜ • ━━━━━

Scrunching her eyes from the sliver of light protruding from the curtain that was left slightly open, Y/N let out a tired groan before pulling some of the navy blue blanket over her face. Feeling his lover shift in her sleep, Hongjoong slung his inked arm and placed it around her waist. Bringing his face forward, he placed a chaste kiss on her exposed shoulder.

"Morning beautiful." He greeted her with his usual manner of complimenting her.

"No........no morning..." She uttered, her voice sounding a little raspy and hoarse.

The dark ash grey male chuckled softly at her unwillingness to get up yet even though it was well past 11 a.m. His fingers traced around the dip of her hip as he hummed out a soft tune.

"Sweetheart, as much as I'd love to stay in bed and hold you for the rest of my life, you have class today and I'm needed at the shop later on." He reminded her.

Although she realized he was right, she still refused to budge and just stayed immobile. Letting out a sigh, he sat up and began to carefully turn her over to him, to which she let out a muffled whine. When she was fully turned on her back, her eyes fluttered open, her vision being blessed by the beauty of her dark and eccentric boyfriend who was donning his signature smirk as his eyes peered down at her, always seeming to stare right into her soul.

"Well? Are you ready to get up or am I going to have to get you ready myself?" He inquired, one eyebrow slightly lifted.

The warmth and comfort of the bed made her hesitant to want to leave. Reaching out, Y/N's hand slowly began tracing the outline of Hongjoong's collarbone.

"Why can't we just stay here?.....just for today? Stay and cuddle together..."

Trailing her hand down, her fingers grazed slightly over one of the piercings on his chest.

"Or .....we could do a few other things."

He let out a soft moan when she rolled his nipple between her thumb and index finger, eyes looking up at him suggestively while she bit down on her lower lip. Her other hand pushed the blanket, which was covering her, a little lower to further entice him. He could not look away at the sight of her wearing one of his many oversized band tees, his mind knowing fully well she wasn't wearing anything else underneath it. The end of it had risen up slightly that if she shifted around more, her entire bottom half would be exposed to him. When her hand threatened to go lower, he quickly caught it with his own.

"Naughty naughty kitten, trying to seduce me into fucking her into the sheets.."

Bending over, he captured her lips in a lazy and semi-messy kiss, his wet muscle poking out to lick across her upper lip.

"As if I didn't do enough of that last night."

Letting out a giggle, she let him wrap her legs around his waist before picking her up and walking towards the adjoining bathroom so they could get washed up and ready for the upcoming events in their day.

Outside in the kitchen, a handsome boy with dark brown hair and a sculpture like face pushed up the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. His eyes loomed over the formulas and equations that were plastered all over the page. More than once he looked over at the notebook beside him, comparing and analyzing similarities and differences. His pencil was often tapping against the counter, following along to the beat of the song that was blasting from his phone. Occasionally, he'd find himself humming, or even singing along softly like he was currently doing at the moment.

"Fell in love with a girl at the rock show. She said what? And I told her that I didn't know..."

He had been sitting on that spot well over 3 hours, the blueberry bagel he had heated up for breakfast only had a single bite and remained untouched on a porcelain plate in front of his study materials. He let out a whispered curse under his breath as he couldn't seem to focus, his hand reaching up to rub at the side of his neck in frustration. Letting out a puff of air, he leaned back on the chair and stared at the ceiling, thinking about many things.

Hearing the doorknob of his roommate's turn, he was not fazed at all at seeing the [insert hair color] female come out.

"Oh. Morning Yeosang." She waved at him as she made her way into the kitchen, already rummaging through the cabinets like she usually did when she stayed over.

"Morning? It's practically noon." He pointed to the clock hanging by the wall.

Y/N simply ignored him and simply poured herself a bowl of cereal. Sitting down in front of the poker faced male, she made sure not to disturb him as he concentrated on the papers in front of him. After Hongjoong and her became official, she was ultimately forced to be introduced and sometimes even cohabite to a point with him since she now spent more time at their dorm than at her own place. Not that she minded. Yeosang was a very intriguing character. He was extremely quiet at first, but soon opened up to her and became more chatty with her, even more with her than his own roommate and friend. During one of their many conversations she found out he was a natural science major, focusing specifically on chemistry, which resulted more often than not in horrible puns involving the periodic table. He had a weird yet cute obsession with chicken, often wore either beanies or snapbacks backwards and had very similar music tastes like Hongjoong, which was the main reason why they ended up becoming friends, their music. However, Yeosang wasn't as deep, dark nor tattooed like her boyfriend.

Yeosang was a skater and the biggest clue was the skateboard he left on the side of the front door, the bottom of it decked out with various stickers he placed there. God forbid if anyone that wasn't him touched his baby, all hell would break loose, as Hongjoong himself learned one time. The man himself came out of his own room after he finished placing the finishing touches on his makeup. Sliding an arm around his girlfriend, he took in the state of his friend.

"Still taking 6 hours on a chemical reaction Yeosang?" Hongjoong snorted.

"Still taking longer than your girlfriend to put on eyeliner Hongjoong?" Yeosang retaliated, lips curving into a satisfied smile.

Another thing she loved about Yeosang: he was a straight up savage who could roast people harder than an oven.

Grumbling softly, Hongjoong placed a tiny peck on Y/N's lips.

"I have to go now babygirl. Meet me at the shop after class and we'll go home together." He told her.

"Which one? Hers or ours?" Yeosang snickered.

Making his way around the counter, Hongjoong held out his hand and flicked Yeosang on the head, causing him to utter an 'ow' at his ministration.

"And please try to get some air Yeo. You've been cooped up in these 4 walls too long."

After giving him a suggestion, Hongjoong was out the door and out of sight towards his part time job.

"Dark lord has no room to talk, before you came along, he'd only go out for school, work and booze." Yeosang shook his head.

Y/N giggled and got up to make her way out as well.

"He has a point. Besides, you've been stressed out recently. Why not hop on Emmy and take her out for a little spin?"

Y/N found it odd at first that Yeosang actually named his skateboard, but she figured she shouldn't have been so surprised. Hongjoong did a similar thing with his black Mustang. Closing, his textbook, Yeosang turned off the music playing on his phone and grabbed the earbuds sitting next to them.

"You know what? You're right. It doesn't look like it'll rain either."

Picking up her own bag, she followed Yeosang out the door, each of them headed towards a different direction.

"Try not to run anyone over this time." She called out to him.

"I don't run into people, they purposefully get in my way."

After waving goodbye to her, he placed the earbuds in, music already blasting full volume as he skated down the hallway, not caring about if it was allowed or not.

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The little twinkle of the bell chimed, letting Hongjoong know that someone had just come in. Although it was well past closing time, he knew very well who it was that just strolled through those doors. He didn't even look up from his task of wiping down and sanitizing his workplace.

"Hey handsome."

Unwillingly, he smiled softly at his girlfriend's words.

"Hey gorgeous." Finally looking up, he winked at her and caused her cheeks to heat up with a light shade of pink.

Clearing her throat, she asked if he was almost done, to which he affirmed that he was indeed.

"Just let me pack up my things and then we'll go to your place and cuddle." He began putting the tattoo needles, ink and tubes into a black case, making sure it was all neatly arranged and locked tightly.

"My place? But I bought chicken. I thought we could give some to Yeosang." She held up the plastic bag that contained their purchased dinner.

Slumping an arm around her waist, Hongjoong poked his bottom lip out.

"Sometimes I think you're more nice to Yeosang than me."

She shook her head at him and his cute and subtle jealous antics.

"Kim Hongjoong, are you jealous of Yeosang?" She teased him.

Pulling her against him, he whined softly as they made their way out of the tattoo parlor. He sighed as he locked up and punched in the security code.

"I'm not jealous of him....."

Walking over to his car, he made sure to open the door first for her as he usually did every time they went out.

"I'm just making sure you're still interested in me."

He held her hand the entire ride back to her place, even against her protests and lecture about safe driving. When she pulled her hand away so he could place it on the steering wheel, it instead rested on top of her thigh, pinching it softly at times, which resulted in Y/N's own hand smacking it for going too hard at times. Hongjoong just laughed and continued his obnoxious teasing on her, loving to annoy her and get her frustrated with him. When they pulled up to her place, she didn't even allow him to open the door for her. Instead, she sauntered off inside, closing the door behind her and locking it before he could get in.

"Haha very funny babe, now please open the door."

A minute passed but still she didn't respond. Hongjoong began pressing on the doorbell repeatedly. When that still didn't work, he called her, but he was sent directly to her voice mail.

"Aish! Seriously this girl..."

Hongjoong began pounding on the door.

"Yah L/N Y/N! Open this door right now missy! You want me to get angry with you?!"

On the other side of the door, Y/N cupped a hand over her mouth, muffling her laughter at his reaction.

"If you don't open the door, I'll- I'll..........I'll serenade you so loudly your neighbors will complain."

Taking a deep breath, he was about to start singing, but Y/N instead opened the door.

"Dear God, I get punishing me, but what did my neighbors do to get tortured so mercilessly by your banshee cries?"

She finally let him in after that scene.

"I'll have you know I'm actually a pretty decent singer." He stated in a matter of factly.

"Oh I know Hongjoong." She assured him as she began serving him a plate of food.

"You do?" He was puzzled as he tried to recall a time where he sang in front of her.

Not able to suppress a smile, Y/N confessed:

"One night after you came home late and thought I was asleep, I heard you when you began singing Rebel Love Song while playing with my hair."

As she sat down the plate in front of him and looked at him, his already fair complexion seemed to grow more pale and he suddenly looked embarrassed. He awkwardly toyed with his food.

"So......you heard the entire thing...?" He opted for focusing on eating as much as he could before he completely lost his appetite.

Y/N tried to keep a straight face as she sipped on the juice from her cup, ultimately failing when she spat it back inside, almost choking on the citrus liquid. Her boyfriend now threw the unwanted chicken wing back in his plate.

"Well I guess I'm not eating tonight. Good bye. I'm going to go crawl under the bed and die of embarrassment."

She looked at Hongjoong's slumped back as he headed into her bedroom. Wanting to let him change and wash up, knowing he'd take a while removing all that makeup that for some reason never caused a breakout on his flawless skin, she began clearing out the table and washing the dishes. Making sure to wrap the leftovers so he could take to his friend, she made her way into her room where Hongjoong was already on the bed, scrolling through his phone with a cringed look on his face.

"What is it?" She asked him as she began changing into her pj's.

"My idiot roommate. Wasn't watching where he was going and ended up stumbling on a dent on the sidewalk."

Hongjoong held up his phone to let her see a picture of Yeosang's dislocated elbow. She winced back in pain as she saw it.

"Ewww! Is he ok? Does he want us to take him to the hospital?"

Hongjoong shook his head.

"Yeosang would never EVER go to the hospital because of a skating accident. Besides, he's had so many that he somehow knows how to fix them."

Pulling up another picture, he let her see a selca of Yeosang holding up a peace sign as the caption read: "Hehet. I popped it back into place."

Y/N actually thought that was funny. Yeosang was a very funny character even when he didn't try to be. Snuggling herself up to her boyfriend, she let him move her leg so it could be wrapped around him, his thumb playing with the hem of her pink shorts. His hand then trailed up, untying the drawstring before pulling them just a little bit down to expose her powerpuff girls underwear.

"Hey!" Y/N swatted his hand away when he began bursting out at her choice of 'lingerie.'

"I'm sorry! It's just so cute." He tried explaining to her.

She wasn't amused however and turned away from him, her back facing him.

"Awww come on baby. I meant it when I said it was cute. You know I didn't mean it to be mean."

Hongjoong wrapped his arm around her waist, his lips peppering kisses on her cheek and temple.

"Yeah but I bet you'd prefer it if instead it was black lace and the skin around it had ink or jewelry."

Although she meant to only mumble that under her breath, Hongjoong heard her plain and clear.

"Ok what kind of talk is that? Why are you saying such things Y/N?"

She was going to crawl under the blanket but Hongjoong gave her no time to as he rolled her onto her back so he could look at her, not about to let her go until she explained the meaning of her words.

"I mean.......Hongjoong you're the dark, mysterious emo guy every girl thirst for at campus." She began.

"Guilty as charged." He joked.

Y/N chuckled slightly at his cute joke, but then went back to her somber expression.

"But...?" He urged her to continue.

"And I'm the complete opposite of you. You're black, I'm pink. You're leather, I'm fleece......you got your fucking dick pierced while I the only thing I have pierced are my ears."

"Ok, I see your points, but I'm still lost as to where you're trying to get with all this?" He tilted his head.

"My point is this. Wouldn't you rather be with someone who matches you better? Colorful colors on her hair? Piercings cascading down her earlobes and tattoos in places only you'll be able to see?" Her eyes looked away from him, afraid to see something she wouldn't like.

Hongjoong finally understood her insecurity. He wasn't going to lie, more than once he often felt the same way towards her. Why would a beautiful, dedicated, classy, pure and sophisticated woman settle for someone like him? But he never imagined that she'd be thinking the exact same thing. His fingers brushed away the strands of hair that were covering part of her face.

"Y/N....... if I wanted someone like that, I could have hooked up with them a long time ago. But I didn't want them. I wanted you then and I only want you now and I'll still want you later on in life."

She melted at his reassuring words, eyes and lips forming into a puppy face that always made him weak.

"You mean it?"

Bending down, he placed a loving and gentle kiss on her.

"I mean it. So don't worry about getting your body pierced or tattooed." He grinned at her.

Y/N bit down on her lip as she was about to tell him something.

"Well actually........I might need your input on something..."

He motioned for her to speak up.

"I actually wanted to get a tattoo and I was wondering......if you could do it..."

His mouth dropped at her words, brain trying to process if he just heard her right.

"Are you serious or...?"

She nodded.

"I'm serious. I want to get a tattoo and I want you to do it."

Looking at his still dumbfounded expression, it was now her turn to make fun of him.

"I mean, if you don't want to, that's ok. I'll just ask San to do it. It could probably be a better idea and I could surprise you instead."

"I mean, where do you even want to get the tattoo?"

Y/N smirked as she lifted her shirt up and exposed her breasts. She trailed a line right below them and signaled exactly where she wanted to get it. Hongjoong's face flushed as he began to imagine his already sexy girlfriend with an under breast tattoo decorating her chest, causing him to feel needy in seconds.

"Fuck baby.....are you trying to kill me?" He gulped.

"So is that a yes? Can you ask San to do it and I'll show you the finished result?"

Hongjoong chuckled as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head.

"Do you really think I'm going to let anyone else see my girlfriend's chest when only I'm allowed to? Hell no. I'll gauge their eyes out first."

Y/N let out a half squeak half moan when Hongjoong bit down on her neck, tongue gliding down her exposed skin as his hands began ridding her of her clothes one by one.

"Let me remind you that you're mine and will always be mine."

━━━━━ • ஜ • ❈ • ஜ • ━━━━━

"Hongjoong!"

Throwing a rubber ball that struck straight into his target's head, Yeosang held up a fist in the air.

"Still got my aim." He declared, flexing his arm muscle.

Hongjoong however was not amused.

"You know...there's more than one way to dislocate an elbow than tripping on a sidewalk." He threatened him.

Letting out a small 'pfft', Yeosang took out his phone.

"Do you still have that video presentation we did for Professor Yoo's class."

"Ummm.......hold on, yeah I think so?" Hongjoong began scrolling through his phone.

"Ok well if you do, send it to me, I need to go over a few things for our upcoming midterms."

Hongjoong gave him a questioning gaze.

"Yeosang...midterms aren't until 3 months from now."

Yeosang raised an eyebrow.

"Did I fucking stutter?"

Not wanting to argue with the hot headed boy, Hongjoong just went back to searching through his files and let him know he'd send it once he found it. Yeosang meanwhile went back to his room, flopping down on his bed and resumed his previous activity of watching a horror movie on his phone. Tiny snorts would occasionally come out of his mouth when a jump scare would happen or sometimes even a twisted smile would form on his face when a particularly brutal or gory scene would be displayed. Even if he was scary and dark himself, Hongjoong often judged and questioned how Yeosang could possibly sit there watching people get violently slaughtered or severed without getting fazed or even batting an eyelash. Hongjoong actually suspected Yeosang actually enjoyed it and more than once contemplated whether Yeosang or not could be a potential serial killer.......

Then he remembered the boy also had Ponytail as his ringtone to quote unquote 'Wake up in a happy and cheerful mood.'

A notification popped up. Opening his messages, he saw it was from Hongjoong himself.

'Took me a while, but here you go. Knock yourself out I guess.'

In typical Yeosang fashion, he didn't even thanked him, he simply left him on read as he usually did. Pressing play, he flipped his phone sideways so he could make it go into full screen mode. He was disoriented when he heard music playing on the black screen, knowing fully well he didn't use such kinky music like that while editing the video, in fact he didn't use any music at all.

"What the fuck?"

He squinted his eyes when a scantily clad girl came into view. A male hand, belonging to whom he presumed to be recording the video, was seen running his thumb across her luscious and red tinted lips. The hand then reached down and picked up a black leash which was attached to the black choker on her neck. It had a red heart pendant on the middle, some engraving that he couldn't make it on the center of it.

"You know what to do kitten. Put that pretty mouth of yours to work." He heard the male tell the girl in front of him.

"The fuck kind of kinky porn did he decide to send me?"

Yeosang's cringed expression soon turned to shock when the male tugged on the leash roughly, pulling the girl forward and making her full face finally show on the camera.

"Oh...my..."

He gulped as he watched none other than Y/N began to pull down, whom he assumed was Hongjoong's briefs, down his thighs. When his erect cock hit his stomach, Yeosang's eyes nearly bulged out of his eyes.

"Holy shit Joong!"

His hand covered his agaped mouth as his eyes stared intently at his roommate's most intimate part, covered in piercings that he definitely did not know about. He knew about the nipple piercings, both of them having walked around shirtless at one point in front of each other. But seeing his Hyung's dick full of jewelry started making him get hard and watching Y/N wrap her lips around it, slurping sounds coming out her mouth as she began taking him in until he hit the back of her throat was not helping his case. His hand that was resting on his thigh unconsciously moved towards the growing tent forming under his sweatpants, lightly running across his length.

He heard Hongjoong emit a low hiss when she gave him a particular hard suck.

"Fuck! You're such a hungry and desperate cockslut aren't you? How about I treat you like the whore you are and fuck your face?"

Yeosang sucked in a breath as he watched Hongjoong yanked the leash on Y/N to keep her in place as his hips began to thrust forward. Yeosang couldn't help but palm himself harder, biting down his lower lip in an effort to keep his moans down. Watching Y/N release choked moans and drool pool down her chin from how hard Hongjoong was face fucking her was honestly one of the hottest things he'd ever seen. He nearly came in his pants with the lightest of touch when he witnessed Hongjoong pull out and spurt out his cum all over her face, covering from her forehead and dripping down her cheeks and chin, her tongue darting out to swallow some of the remnants left on her lips.

Yeosang gulped as he watched the screen go black, only shuffling noises being heard for a minute or two. He debated whether he should continue watching, already feeling guilty as hell that he just watched his Hyung's girlfriend suck him off and get a facial from him. But once the screen lit up again, he nearly fell off his bed as he stared at the scene:

Y/N had her arms tied to the bedpost, crimson red ropes secured tightly on her wrists, an intricate knot placed in the center of it. Her mouth was covered by a ball gag, lace bra pulled down to expose her breasts and her panties were probably discarded somewhere on the floor. He watched Y/N anxiously shiver when Hongjoong slid his cock across her slippery folds, no doubt enjoying the feeling of his Jacob's ladder piercing grazing against her lips and aching clit. He noticed how she tried to roll her hips to feel him more, but Hongjoong's hand slammed down on her stomach and pressed her down onto the bed.

"Don't get greedy now kitten. You'll take what I give you and you'll be grateful got it?"

Hearing his dominant and commanding voice full of authority, Yeosang slipped his hand inside his pants and gripped himself at the base of his cock, unashamed by his actions and wanting to hear more of Hongjoong's domineering tone.

"Y-yes..."

Not satisfied with her answer, Hongjoong slapped her across her face before gripping her chin. It sent a terrified shiver down Yeosang's back seeing Hongjoong treat Y/N with such utter disrespect and yet......she seemed to enjoy it?

"Yes what?" Hongjoong spat out.

Y/N whimpered as she answered him.

"Yes Master."

Yeosang groaned and stopped his hand movements, not wanting to come anytime soon. Through hooded eyes, he watched the rest of the pornographic video play, from when Hongjoong pushed himself inside Y/N to when he had her trembling underneath him as he poured himself inside of her, completely and effectively fucking her dumb as she stared off somewhere completely lost. With a soft grunt and hisses, Yeosang spilled himself all over his stomach, breathing heavily after having jerked himself off to his roommate's private sex tape. Putting his phone down, he reached for the box of tissues on his dresser and began cleaning himself up....

Completely unaware of the eyes that had been watching him intently.

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Ever since that day that Hongjoong had witnessed Yeosang touching himself to his and Y/N's secret tape, it began giving him a few ideas, ideas that weren't particularly holy at all. It most definitely was an accident and when he realized what he had sent to his roommate he was already off his bed and going over to apologize. He was expecting his somber friend to glare at him or even give him a disgusted look, but he was shocked to find him fully stroking his length, eyes glued to his phone while his mouth released some of the cutest and softest pants he'd ever heard. The sounds kept replaying in his head, especially late at night, often falling asleep to them as if they were some kind of sinful lullaby that he wanted turned into a full blown orchestral song.

And that's how his pretty girlfriend ended up dragged into his unholy desires, dressed to entice in a red two piece lingerie set that he knew would drive Yeosang insane.

"Hongjoong, do you think this is a good idea?" Her hands fidgeted with the bow attached to the middle of her panties.

When they heard the front door signal Yeosang's arrival, Hongjoong looked over at her with a smirk.

"Only one way to find out."

Adjusting the bow on her hair, Y/N watched her boyfriend walk out the room, no doubt going along with his plan of telling Yeosang he had a surprise for him. The boy was probably imagining something like stickers for his skateboard, fried chicken or some cool tshirt Hongjoong would customize for him, he really loved those gifts. Instead, he walked in to find his Hyung's girlfriend sitting on his bed, looking innocent and sexy at the same time. His eyes bulged out, cheeks reddened at the apples and he was whipping his head towards the evilly grinning male next to him, demanding an explanation.

"What? Don't you like my little surprise Sangie? I thought you'd be a little more....excited..."

Yeosang shivered lightly when Hongjoong ran his hand across his pants, gripping softly at the arousal that was forming in them.

"I don't- I don't understand....." Yeosang shyly looked to the ground, hands covering his growing arousal in embarrassment.

"Yeosang I know all about you masturbating to our sex tape."

Y/N kinda felt bad when Yeosang's expression looked guilty and ashamed of himself for even watching it in the first place. But she wasn't going to lie that it turned her on to find out the pure looking skaterboi could have his freaky side and she was more than curious to find out just how wild he could be. She heard, or more like, discerned Yeosang was apologizing to Hongjoong in a very hushed tone. Hongjoong assured him it was perfectly fine and that there was no need to be afraid, that it was after all a present to him. Seeing Yeosang conflict himself with whether this was right or not, Y/N knew it was time for her to speak up.

"Yeosangie...."

He immediately responded to her sultry call for him, ready to obey anything she said. When she patted the spot on the bed next to her, his feet quickly moved to sit next to her, although he kept his eyes on the floor, not daring to look her right in the eye and much less at her body. His cute behavior stirred something inside Y/N, a more dominant side of her wanting to come out. She began stroking his hair, which made him visible stiffen and inhale sharply.

"You can look at me Yeosang. It's ok."

Brushing the hair away from his forehead, her hand went down to his cheek, caressing it as she turned his face to look at her. He visible gulped when she asked him:

"Don't you think I look pretty?"

Unable to resist himself, he finally scanned her body, eyes tracing every curve and lingering a little too much on her exposed cleavage.

"You look so fucking pretty." He had to admit.

Hongjoong watched with a proud smirk as Yeosang let Y/N kiss him softly and slowly melt into a more heated kiss. Although he was possessive by nature, something about sharing his most prized possession with his extremely handsome best friend got him riled up and he couldn't wait until they both fucked her dumb. He was just waiting for Yeosang to flip the tables on her, cause he knew that although his girlfriend was taking the lead at the moment, practically devouring the boy inside her mouth and straddling his lap, he also knew Yeosang was more dominant by nature. He just liked to play off an innocent and naive façade only to suddenly flip the switch and have whoever he's with underneath him and obeying his orders. And that's exactly what happened.

As Y/N was getting lost into their heated and sloppy makeout session, she let out a startled grunt when Yeosang's hand gripped the back of her hair, tugging it harshly as his nose brushed across her exposed neck.

"Just cause you're on top right now, doesn't mean I'm letting you take charge. Got it little kitten?" He smirked when he heard her moan out at her favorite pet name.

"Yes Yeosangie-"

She had no time to finish her sentence because Yeosang gripped her chin tightly, effectively silencing her.

"For tonight, forget about Yeosangie. You will only address me as Sir."

With no warning, he flipped her onto the bed, pinning her arms up and diving straight for her neck, making sure to suck and bite hard enough to leave purple blotches splattered across her soft almost velvet like skin. When Y/N looked back at her boyfriend, he was already almost fully undressed, leaving only his boxers on, hand palming himself as he stared at them with lustful eyes. Cupping her breasts, Yeosang squeezed them into his hands before pulling them out of the confining garment. Having always been a boobs type of guy, he of course began to hungrily suck on them, his tongue flicking against her sensitive nipples. Y/N arched her back, her mind wondering where the fuck did the shy skater went to? Was the boy who could barely say 3 words on their first meeting also the same man that was turning her into putty the lower he began kissing down her body?

When Yeosang got in between her thighs, he could not believe how drenched she already was.

"Fuck. We've barely done anything Hyung." Yeosang pressed a finger to her clothed heat.

Finally deciding it was time to join, Hongjoong moved Y/N so that her head was resting on the edge of the bed, prompting Yeosang to move as well.

"I know. She's such a dirty little slut. Gets turned on by even the smallest of things." He teased her as his hand lightly smacked her cheek.

"Don't call her that Hyung.....she's just a little princess. Can't help it if she's just a little spoiled." Yeosang cooed as he began pulling her soaked panties off.

Y/N gasped when Yeosang blew a little air onto her dripping core, eagerly anticipating him to do something. It was Hongjoong though that made her break her gaze from him when he slapped an all too familiar pierced member on her forehead.

"Hey, just cause Yeosang is willing to go soft on you and dote on you, doesn't mean you earned it from me."

Hongjoong tilted her head lower so it'd be easier for her to take him in.

"You're going to work that filthy mouth of yours and suck me dry you dirty kitten. I don't want you getting distracted by Yeosang eating you out or else I won't let you cum tonight." He warned her before shoving his dick inside her warm mouth in one go.

Yeosang only chuckled as he leaned in closer to her heat.

"I'll make sure to make it difficult for her."

Y/N moaned around Hongjoong's dick when she felt Yeosang's wet muscle side across her slick folds. Although he did not own a tongue in like her boyfriend did, he really was making it difficult for her to focus on sucking off Hongjoong. The way he swirled his tongue around her clit, or when he'd give it a particularly harsh suck that shot waves up at her. She could feel him smiling cockily too, he knew the power he held at that moment. Using his fingers to pry her lips open, he dwelved his tongue inside her dripping hole, causing her to briefly mumble out Yeosang's name while her mouth was still stuffed with Hongjoong's cock. She let out a choked yelp when the latter forced his cock deep inside her throat, the ampallang piercing touching her uvula, as his hand came down to strike her cheek.

"You're seriously calling out another man's name after I told you to focus on me you little bitch? Are you too dumb to even do a simple order?"

Gripping the sides of her jaw, he began to fuck her face, causing Y/N to choke around his length but eventually hollowing out her cheeks to welcome his intrusion. Although Yeosang looked up just to witness the sick and twisted scene, he did not deter in his task of eating Y/N out. He was determined to have her cum all over his face. By the way her hips began rolling onto his face and her thighs were closing around his head, he knew she was definitely close. Noticing her body movements as well, Hongjoong firmly looked at Yeosang.

"Don't you dare let her cum Yeosang."

Yeosang snickered amusedly, finding it funny how Hongjoong tried to order him around. Instead, the brat in him decided to completely ignore him, burying his face deeper in her, his mouth working hard to get her to reach that release she desperately wanted to achieve. When she began squirming under him, his hand held her hips down, tongue lapping up all the sweet juices she was pouring out. Yeosang was disappointed that her pleasured moans were currently being muffled by Hongjoong's cock, the latter tensing up when he felt the vibrations all around him.

"Fucking hell!"

Pulling out of her mouth with a loud popping sound, he finished himself off as he came all over her chin and neck, face red and eyes glaring down at Yeosang, who shot him a smug smile as he wiped the remainder of her juices off his chin and nose and licked his hand when he was done.

"You're such a fucking brat." Hongjoong growled at him.

"And what are you going to do? Spank me daddy?" He scoffed at the older male.

Setting Y/N upright, Hongjoong picked her up and set her down on the chair by the computer.

"You're not allowed to move, speak or touch yourself. You'll sit there like a good little bitch and watch what happens when you test me or disobey."

Y/N quickly nodded at Hongjoong's words, watching with fear and anticipation as turned his attention back to a still defiant Yeosang. After stripping off his clothes as Hongjoong told him to, Yeosang obligingly layed on his stomach, wiggling his ass when his Hyung came up behind him. Hongjoong had a suspiciously calm smile as his hand traced the curve of his Donsaeng's back before gently kneading at the flesh on his cheeks. When Y/N saw him reach under the bed for the black velvet bag he had hid just in case, she knew exactly what he was up to and wanted to warn Yeosang, but remembered the strict command she was given.

"Gave up already Hyung? I knew you're just all talk when you said you were a Dom-"

Yeosang groaned when Hongjoong took hold of his arms and swiftly tied them behind his back. Yeosang tested the ropes binding his hands and effectively discovered that they were very tight. He inhaled deeply when he felt something like leather stroke his ass cheeks. Hongjoong let out a soft chuckle as he brought the object close to Yeosang's face so he could take a look at what it was. The brown haired male paled slightly as he looked straight at the top of a black riding crop. Hongjoong used the tip to slightly turn Yeosang's head so he could see the sadistic smile across his face.

"I'm going to show you little brat how us Doms train you into submission."

After patting that stubborn head of his friend, Hongjoong held the riding crop over his head, momentarily keeping it there to keep a suspenseful atmosphere. Y/N looked over at Yeosang with a worried look, meeting her eyes briefly, he sent a wink her way, silently assuring her that he was completely fine with it.

Swish

"Ahh!"

Yeosang let out an almost pained howl when the first strike came down on his ass.

"One." Hongjoong began.

One stroke soon turned to 5, and then 10, Yeosang's milky white skin started as a bright pink but was now a deep red. He kept his face buried in the mattress underneath him which drowned out his screams and whimpers. All throughout his ordeal, Y/N rubbed her legs together, pressing her thighs against each other, quickly becoming aroused once more and feeling needy once more. Yeosang's whining was not helping her case either, if anything his behavior was making her want to disobey her boyfriend as well, her hand creeping dangerously close to her knee.

"Are you going to apologize for being a brat now or should I keep going? The longer you drag this on, the longer it'll take for both you and Y/N to cum. I mean look at her..."

Grabbing a hold of Yeosang's hair, Hongjoong lifted his face so he could look over at the squirming girl on his chair.

"She's practically aching for you to be inside her."

Although Yeosang wanted to continue his defiance, not only was he craving his own release, but seeing Y/N made him rethink his choice.

"Yeosang, I'll tell you what. Give up now....and I'll let you take her ass."

Y/N couldn't believe her ears. Hongjoong wasn't serious was he? Yeosang sucking in a breath answered that for her, and more so when he immediately did as he was asked.

"I'm sorry f-for being a brat Hyung. I p-promise it won't happen again."

Flipping him on his back, Hongjoong gripped Yeosang's red and painfully erect cock in his hand, making the younger boy hiss in pleasure and pain.

"Tell me what you want Yeosang." Hongjoong ushered him to speak up, his thumb running across the other's slit.

"Wanna make our girl feel good. Wanna be buried inside her and fuck her like a queen."

As he spoke those words, he looked at Y/N with hooded eyes, hips bucking up as Hongjoong began stroking him gently, soft moans and grunts coming out from Yeosang's mouth, the very same ones Hongjoong wanted to hear from the beginning.

"And you will baby boy, but can you both be patient for a little bit?"

Hongjoong turned when Y/N let out a frustrated whine, bottom lip poking out.

"I'll get to you soon kitten ok? But let me help Yeosang for a little bit. He hasn't gotten a chance to come even once and he's throbbing in my hand right now."

Having been frustrated for too long, Yeosang melted into Hongjoong's touch when he picked up the pace and began to stroke him harder. He tried biting his lip in an effort to hold back his noises but Hongjoong halted his movements.

"Open your mouth and let those filthy moans come out your throat or else I'll put a cock ring on you."

As if on cue, Yeosang's began releasing the most unholy series of whimpers and whines as Hongjoong pumped him into a dazy haze that would soon be broken and explode all over his Hyung's hand. He just needed an extra push and he'd come collapsing from his already high state. Hongjoong felt when Yeosang began twitching, a sign he was going to come.

"Hyung-Hyung!-"

Hongjoong immediately dropped to his knees and opened his mouth wide to catch some of the cum that spurted out of Yeosang, leaving Y/N speechless. She knew her boyfriend was rather kinky and had interesting tastes, but this just made her let out a big 'oof' at his actions. And what followed just made her practically drip. Taking advantage of Yeosang's sensitive state, Hongjoong licked up his softening dick and made sure to press his tongue piercing into his slit, making Yeosang push him off, unable to take anymore.

"Ok baby boy, guess you're not ready for overstimulation yet." Hongjoong ruffled his hair before cupping the red faced boy's cheeks and kissing him softly, drilling his tongue in his mouth, letting him not only taste himself but allowing him to play around with his tongue piercing that always made him curious.

They were only broken from their amorous trance when they heard a frustrated squeak coming from the poor girl sitting on the chair in front of them.

"I think we've neglected our princess for too long Hyung." Yeosang was the one who got up and went over to fetch Y/N, who eagerly accepted his embrace and let him carry her over to the bed.

Hongjoong was already getting out the lube to help with the process that was about to come.

"I don't know....I'm tempted to make her wait a little more."

Y/N shook her head furiously to which Yeosang giggled.

"Don't worry princess. I'll make sure you're more than satisfied."

Turning her so her back was to his chest, Yeosang took the lube from Hongjoong's hand and poured some onto his fingers. Hongjoong in turn tilted Y/N's chin, and made her look at him.

"You're lucky Yeosang is nice kitten. If it were up to me, I'd make you wait around and beg like the whiny bitch you are."

Y/N poked her bottom lip out, making puppy eyes at Hongjoong so he wouldn't follow through on it. Wanting to assure her, Yeosang pressed kisses on her shoulder.

"Don't listen to him princess."

Yeosang slipped two of his lubed fingers into her tight hole, reading her body signals and slowly prepping her. Sensing her apprehension, Yeosang looked over at Hongjoong.

"Should we maybe try something else?"

But Y/N didn't want to deter them.

"No! Please! Fuck both my holes."

Yeosang instantly got hard once again at her words. When Y/N pressed herself back onto his length, he got the hint that she wanted them to stop stalling. As Yeosang finished lubing her up, Hongjoong lined himself up at her entrance, not needing to prep her pussy hole as she was practically soaked to the core, making it easy for him to slide inside her. Even after all the times he had entered her in the past months, she could still not get over the feeling of his pierced dick stretching out her walls. Before she could fully get adjusted to him, Yeosang was already sliding into her other tight hole, causing a pained shiver to run down her spine. Hongjoong rapidly kissed her to distract her from the uncomfortable feeling. Yeosang as well slid his hands up to cup her breasts, pinching her nipples softly as he fully inserted his length inside her, fighting the urge to move until she adjusted to his size.

After a few minutes, she pulled away from Hongjoong's kiss and nodded at him.

"You good?" He asked one last time.

"I'm good." Turning her head back so she could look at Yeosang, she added: "Go ahead."

Giving each other an enthusiastic look, both men began moving inside of her. Y/N had never felt so full, each time one of them slipped out of her, the other was already slipping back in, never allowing her to get a moment's rest from the overwhelming feeling they were giving her.

"You're enjoying this aren't you kitten? I can feel you clenching all around me and I bet that other hole of yours is squeezing Yeosang as well."

With no warning, Hongjoong slipped his hand back and struck her ass twice, causing her to yelp.

"Aren't you, you whore?"

As soon as he finished his words, Yeosang stepped in to caress her slapped skin.

"It's ok princess, it's just means we're fucking you right like you're supposed to be."

Y/N loved the polar opposites both of them were giving her. Hongjoong's degradation being softened by Yeosang's praise and care was something she didn't know she needed until she felt a familiar coil build up in her lower stomach.

"She's close..... can you tell Yeosang? With the way she's struggling to breathe and her walls tightening, she's about to burst all over." Hongjoong noted.

Reaching over to fumble with her clit, Yeosang whispered in a raspy voice:

"Cum for us baby girl. Just let it out."

Feeling the coil snap inside, she cried out their names as they slowed down their movements, letting her come down from her high and become relaxed. She was completely unaware of the slick smiles and hints they exchanged between themselves. Taking advantage of her unfocused state, Hongjoong gripped her hips while Yeosang wrapped his hand around her neck, both jolting they began pounding into her at an even fiercer speed than before, loud squealching sounds echoing through the room as incoherent babbling came from Y/N's mouth, tears dripping down her cheeks from their overstimulation.

"Joong...Sang..-"

Hongjoong slapped her ass once again.

"Wrong name stupid, stupid kitten."

Any word she even thought of spitting out was choked out by Yeosang's grip tightened around her throat.

"It's Master and Sir to you little pet."

"S-sorry......m-master...s-sir-"

With tremendous effort, she managed to get out those 3 words in between her whimpered screams that were probably being heard by the neighbors, not to mention the creaking of the bed underneath them. Being overstimulated past her limit, it didn't take long for Y/N to become undone once more, this time even more violently than the previous one. If the boys hadn't been holding her up, she would have collapsed onto the bed. But their strong arms, both tha tattooed ones and the non-tattooed held her up as both boys chased their own release. Through gritted teeth, they let out choked moans, making sure to fill her up to the brim as they coated her walls with their sticky cum. Once they garnered enough strength and their headspace, they pulled out of her, a trail of slick cascading down her thighs. Y/N winced at the sudden void that action left in her, her eyes focused on the ceiling as her mind just stayed blank from all the events that just happened. Yeosang was the first one to get up.

"I'll go run a bath."

Understanding what he was doing, Hongjoong leaned down and brushed some of the hair sticking to his girlfriend's forehead off her face. Kissing the spot gently, his tone turned more soft and warm than what it had been minutes ago.

"It's ok, you did so well my love. We'll run you a nice bath and then tuck you into bed so you can rest ok?"

Her mind barely processed what he said, she simply nodded and allowed herself to be carried by Hongjoong into the bathroom. Yeosang was in the process of making sure the water temperature was perfect and had already added scented bubble bath mix in there to help her relax more.

"You certainly do go the extra mile." Hongjoong pointed out.

Yeosang shrugged.

"Just cause she's not mine doesn't mean I'm not going to take care of her after I practically helped you fuck her brains out."

Both Y/N and Yeosang thought they were too worn out and dumb to fully comprehend the next words Hongjoong spoke.

"As far as I'm concerned, she's also yours after tonight."

Y/N craned her neck to look at Yeosang's reaction, who sat there incredulous.

"I mean, if you don't want to I understand..."

Hongjoong looked over at his lover, knowing fully well she would not mind adding their savage yet charismatic accomplice into their relationship. After Y/N gave him a reassuring smile, Yeosang stood up and took her away from Hongjoong's embrace.

"Guess you're mine now too princess."

━━━━━ • ஜ • ❈ • ஜ • ━━━━━

[kanonsarchivedblog]

❛you looked me in the eyes for a little too long to “not have any feelings for me“.❜ Tobirama/Madara? You can do fem!Tobirama for this if you want!

Word Count: 1317 Pairing: Uchiha Madara/Fem!Senju Tobirama Rating: T Warnings: N/A Author’s Note: This was so much fun to write! And can absolutely be read as a sequel to Burn For You (alternate link), or it could be read by its own. I hope you enjoy it! [ Prompt list can be found here ] ━━━━━━━━━━━━ It wasn’t often that Tobirama found herself sitting in the office of Uchiha Madara, let alone sitting in his presence at all. Her gaze settled on the documents stacked on his desk- neat piles of scrolls, organized by their labels. Documents sat to the left- one stack that had been read and signed, another of yet to be read. He had a few different pots of ink sitting beside his pens, as well- a deep red, a deep navy, and black. The colors of the Uchiha clan, she realized belatedly.

Gaze shifting, she studied the scrolls hanging on the walls- the rules of Konoha, some poem she didn’t recognize off the top of her head, a beautifully detailed painting of a crane sitting on a branch in the middle of a pond, and at the very end, closest to the door- the Uchiwa, otherwise known as the fan that the clan used as their symbol. She’d always found it amusing, how close their clan name was to the symbol they used.

She felt the signature bonfire of a spark before Madara entered, murmuring to his aid before closing the door behind himself. Tobirama turned in her chair, a brow raising as she took in his appearance. “I apologize for making you wait,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Haggard, exhausted- then again, they all were.

“What was the holdup?” She asked, curiosity piquing as he removed the outer layer of armor. “Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine- your brother is just dragging his feet with any decision he has to make currently.” Madara replied with a grand roll of his eyes before he settled into his chair behind his desk. “Now-... I called you here because…” He trailed off, gaze growing distant.

Troubled.

“We need to decide on how to split the land that the Yuhi have a right to claim and- our ANBU.” They needed a place to train, but the Yuhi held so much land beyond the border of Konoha’s walls, all the way from the valley to the woods, where the Nara land began. “I believe there’s enough space between the Nara and Yuhi, above where the Inuzuka’s land ends, that we could place it- above the monument that my brother insisted on creating.”

“It’s an eyesore,” Madara muttered, drawing a laugh out of Tobirama. His gaze drifted up, studying her features. Despite the late night they’d had- a few late nights, one not even being spent in the office- she looked radiant. Her cheeks held a healthy flush today, and she wore a new shade of lipstick- a darker red, more wine than blood. She’d painted her nails, too, he noticed- an icy shade of blue that nearly appeared white unless you looked close enough. The shade was beautiful, and complimented her well. Icy, like the harsh winters of the Northern countries. He could see her blending into a blizzard so well-

“-ara? Madara, you didn’t hear a word I said, did you? Oi!” She clapped her hands once, a sharp sound that had Madara jolting in his chair, eyes widening in surprise. “There he is! Good morning, do you need a cup of tea to wake yourself up?” Her lips twisted into a scowl. “Honestly, Uchiha.”

“I apologize,” his voice was soft as he shook his head. “I’ve been stretched thin, it seems.”

“Is everything alright?” Concern entered her voice as she leaned forward, her head tilting. She’d tied it up today, he noticed, leaving her bangs and a few shorter strands free from the high ponytail. It only enhanced the garnet of her gaze.

“Everything’s fine,” he replied after a moment, forcing himself to tear his gaze away. “... I think.”

“Is it because of-” she hesitated, struggling to find the correct words. “The other night?” So polite- much different from how she acted four nights prior. “Madara- I want you to be honest with me.”

“I’m afraid I’m too honest with you,” he joked before falling silent, lips curving into a frown.

“Do you have feelings for me?”

“What?” Was it not obvious? He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe she would ask such a question. “I don’t-”

“You’ve been looking me in the eyes a touch too long to “not have feelings for me”,” she countered, head tilting slowly. He suddenly felt as if he were being examined by a wolf rather than the woman before him.

That’s what she was- dangerous, untamed, strong, a force of nature.

Beautiful.

“Would it be a crime to say that I do?” The admittance was soft, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze cast astray, studying the unlit candles that sat on a side table, their wax having dripped to the table’s top. “To say that you’ve not left my mind ever since that night?”

“A crime?” She echoed softly, slowly rising to her feet. “No, I think not a crime- not one that could cause harm. Unless you intend to cause me harm. Do you, Madara?” She asked, slowly stepping along the side of his desk, turning, drawing closer. “Uchiha Madara,” she drawled, reaching out with a sharply manicured hand, her nails digging into the flesh of his jaw gently as she turned his chin upwards, forcing his gaze to meet her own. “Do you intend to cause me harm?”

“Never,” he whispered, lips barely parting to let the words slip out, as if he had never intended to utter them aloud. He turned his head slowly, gaze still trained on her own, and pressed his lips to her palm in a slow kiss. “I fear you’ll sooner harm me than I you.”

“Perhaps you’re correct,” she mused, leaning down to brush her lips against the corner of his own. “I would be wrong if I said I did not hold-”

The sound of the door handle turning had them both pulling apart as if they’d been burnt, Madara rising quickly as Tobirama stepped back, her arms crossing over her chest in a defensive position. Mito paused at the sight, her gaze trailing slowly over Tobirama before settling on Madara.

She knows, Tobirama’s mind whispered. She knows.

She knows, Madara realized.

“Did you two forget we have a meeting with the Clan Elders of the Yamanaka and Akamichi?” She asked after a moment, brows raising. “Or did you both decide not to attend?”

“That’s my brother’s job,” Tobirama bit out, her gaze drifting to meet Madara’s for a moment before she turned and snagged her formal cloak. “I didn’t realize that it was time for it. I apologize for holding us up- it was purely my fault.”

“Was it?” Mito asked, her gaze searching as she looked down at Tobirama. There was something strange about Mito, Tobirama had noticed- something she’d felt from the very beginning. Kurama liked to look through her eyes- nosey little fox, he was. And now, peering up at Mito, she could see the amber of Kurama’s gaze settling over Mito’s own dark brown.

The Uzumaki were terrifying.

Mito was terrifying.

Tobirama tore her gaze away. “It was. Uchiha, are you coming, or will you dawdle by the windows until the cows come home?” She asked, not looking over her shoulder.

“Coming,” Madara called as he slipped his formal armor back on. Their conversation was far from over- but with Mito growing more and more curious, they would need to be far more cautious.

Especially with how Mito could hide her entire chakra signature, despite how massive it was. Sneaky little fox.

The Uzumaki walked ahead of them, her head held high- royalty. She knew who she was, and she used that like a weapon. Tobirama could appreciate that- even so, she reached over, the tips of her fingers brushing against Madara’s. A reminder.

This was not over.

His lips curled into a smirk.

What once was a spark was growing into a small fire.

[timextoxhajima]

henlo dana for the made-up fic title :

purple skies and butterflies💜🦋

✰ title: purple skies and butterflies

✰ member: txt taehyun [i keep streaming lovesong nowadays]

✰ wc: 960 

✰ warnings: indirect mention of death, mental health issues

✰ synopsis: "say you love me."

✰ send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it

watching a movie in your head. that’s what you were doing. reliving the moments you had with taehyun as the clock ticking by your bed forces a second through your brain. a smile stretches across your lips, eyes stuck to the white ceiling but yet all you can hear is his voice. all you can see are his eyes and smile. all you can smell is the shampoo of his hair. all you can feel is the warmth of his fingers between yours.

all you can taste is the sweetness of his tongue from the first time you kissed. 

love is a strange shade of magenta and pastel purple.

you were along the beach with him behind you, bits of sand and water being kicked out of the lines left by the shallow waves. the blue around the ends of his jeans had been dampened into a darker shade, but all you remember is the scent of fresh air and the sound of water washing around your feet. the skies were inked the color of love, every line of the clouds and ray of setting sun intricately drawn into the canvas up above.

he finally catches up, breath huffing into your hair when his arms wrap around your waist, laughing into your ear. he stumbles the both of you out of the water, and he sits you at a bench, squatting to help clean the sand off your feet and dry your calves. 

have you ever looked into someone’s eyes and instantly knew that you weren’t afraid to have your heart in his hands?

taehyun leans his head on your shoulder, pen mindlessly doodling across your free arm as you write your essay. the ballpoint pen draws dark blue ink into your skin, and that day, maybe, just maybe, had you spent that time looking at him, and possibly memorising all the angles of his face - as if your memory would do his existence justice - you wouldn’t be here now. 

the weight on your shoulder shifts off and he sighs with satisfaction. your eyes dart from the essay paper to your arm, where he’s drawn a couple of small butterflies along the surface of your wrist. closing your fist, you watch the wings of the butterflies jut out of your skin as the tendon pushes the image out. 

“it looks like the wings are moving.”

taehyun grins with pride when you recognise the reason for drawing the butterflies in that very spot. he rests his cheek against his closed fist, elbow perched on the desk as he tilts his head to look at you.

there’s a certain glimmer in his eyes that seems to speak to you, like he was the one memorising your features instead. for a split second, his brows furrow and he swallows. 

he looks different today. 

taehyun removes his cheek off his hand and leans forward, reaching for your chin to properly turn your face. the last thing you remember are his eyes fluttering shut, and so do yours, and then you remember the taste of his lips on yours. 

maybe you should’ve asked why. why did the sweetness on his tongue fade into salt between your lips. 

the ache in your heart isn’t far pain enough to stop you from breathing, if that’s what it takes to bring him back to you. the strain in your throat as you sob and choke on your own tears are muted in your head, watching the metallic platform roll away. his skin was no longer the shade of the sun in the light but instead of a pale, gray shade of the walls. 

your knees meet the cold tiles of the floor, fluorescent lights bright enough to blind your vision when its clouded by tears brimming. your voice is no longer, and your soul has left with the angel that had been sent to you from above. the force of denial doubles the length of your body as you crouch over, fists against the marble. 

one drop, two, then three, before it’s a stream down your face in absolute silence. other people are sobbing; wailing, but you didn’t deserve to pour your feelings out like that. 

chin tilting to the ceiling, your skull now feels the weight of a feather but your heart yearns to sink to the core of the earth. warm tears stream from the corners of your eyes and down to your jaw, lids gently shutting and your lips parting to breathe as if to take your last. 

use me like a drug, if it means you can come back to me.

“how are you feeling today?” 

“fine.”

she clicks her pen and scribbles something into the file. 

the little figurine in the corner of her desk has shifted. 

“do you still think about him?”

“hm?”

“taehyun. your partner.”

“think?” a weak smile draws across your face. “no.”

she places the file down on the desk, leaning forward with her white coat blending into the background. the room smells like anaesthesia, but thank the gods you’re immune to them. 

“we can’t help you if you don’t tell us what you’re feeling.”

thumb and index finger playfully press into the heart of your palm. a kiss on your forehead. breaths down the back of your neck. 

she sighs, leaning back in her seat. “we can stay here all day if we have to.”

an attempt to hide his smile. his laughter melts it away, legs dragging him across the space to lift you up into the air. 

“say you love me.”

then he appears before you, within your vision, within the realms of your mind, where he is forever and permanent. 

he leans forward, lips pressing into your forehead. 

“i love you.”

your eyes open, and he’s missing. he’s no longer here. 

your head tilts, eyes zooming in on the window behind her. she’s talking but nothing goes into your head, for there’s a purple butterfly perched on the glass.

[lpfreakification]

I finished @thechrispavon 's OC, Zane Artemis

So shiny... + it glows in the dark too! :D

It all started as a redesign an OC tweet. I already showed the sketch here. I took it many steps further into a full-fledged painting 0.0

B4 I actually added any color, I had to research + test out which black inks can cover shiny metallic watercolors well. The answer + winner was the Speedball *reads bottle* super black pigmented acrylic ink. (Acrylic, huh? Interesting)

The next part was testing out the various dip pen nibs I already own. My go-to is the *reads nib* Hunt No.512 EX-Fine. The hardest part of inking/linearting with a dip pen is going over a previous line but ends up scratching it, or worse, when it doesn't flow or it needs to be dipped again. That was a struggle for reapplying the lineart after coloring. I outline the sketch so I know where to color, + then (heavily) reapply the ink to make it pop out. It worked :P

The fun part b4 coloring was actually painting the whole figure with holographic glitter X3 (specifically, Ugly Holo by iuilewatercolors)

The hair had to be specific with the colors as well as how I was approaching it. Took me 6 tries + a small-scale test to find what in looking for + satisfied with.

1. Imperial Blue by cactusikart_colors for the base color

2. No. 191 by iuilewatercolors for the color-changing tips of the hair

3. X-mas Blue by iuilewatercolors for the 1st layer of hair shine

4. Sondheim by reneeissancecolours for the 2nd layer of hair shine

5. Permafrost by stayceeillustrations for the highlight + brightest part of the hair shine

Inner ears were "Prism" + gold parts were "Golden Leaves" by lisilinka X)

I repeated the process for the tail but wanted to add more... texture? Fluff? The tail was definitely satisfying + the best part X3

The bottom was tricky, I admit, bcuz I didn't want to make it the same color as the tail. Solution: mix a variety of blues + a black in a porcelain plate + hoped for the best. I actually screwed up a couple times with the coloring of the pants. Luckily the shading helped separate the tail + the pants. That saved my life X)

Favorite part of the boots were those black shines. Its stands out in the light. Its reminiscent to something I used to do. It's a nice touch :)

I kept retouching the belt buckles multiple times bcuz I kept accidentally adding too much paint.

The bandana's color was a tough choice between this beige color + a red color. Sure the red would've popped out but I felt like it didnt suit him. Ultimately, I chose beige for a better reason: one of Zane's inspirations was Sonic (+ Tidus + Goku), right? He wears a bandana (or scarf?) in Sonic Boom. It worked out nicely X) I'm proud of that decision.

The "super sash" feels like a miss. Either could've done without it or change the color to black? Idk but something feels off about it.

The glow-in-the-dark stars (+ moon) was a perfect edition to the piece X3 1 or 2 good coats of that under the light 1st + then in the dark worked so well. I was astonished when I found out how well it worked. Makes me wonder... (Perla dont go there, Perla dont go there).

The multiple color-changing stars were a last minute decision. I orginally was gonna do 3 different color-changing paints but went overboard with *counts* 15. Oops. Thankfully its not too noticeable from far away + away from the light. This is kinda what I get for wanting more color.

Overall, I'm glad I did this as a last hurrah b4 I start animating again. Gotta shift my focus. I'd like to say thank you for letting me make a 2nd fabulous fanart of this OC (1st was back in 2017). I plan to send this sometime this weekend or next week. But for now, victory!

Yep!

I finished @thechrispavon ’s OC, Zane Artemis

So shiny… + it glows in the dark too! :D

It all started as a redesign an OC tweet. I already showed the sketch here. I took it many steps further into a full-fledged painting 0.0

B4 I actually added any color, I had to research + test out which black inks can cover shiny metallic watercolors well. The answer + winner was the Speedball *reads bottle* super black pigmented acrylic ink. (Acrylic, huh? Interesting)

The next part was testing out the various dip pen nibs I already own. My go-to is the *reads nib* Hunt No.512 EX-Fine. The hardest part of inking/linearting with a dip pen is going over a previous line but ends up scratching it, or worse, when it doesn’t flow or it needs to be dipped again. That was a struggle for reapplying the lineart after coloring. I outline the sketch so I know where to color, + then (heavily) reapply the ink to make it pop out. It worked :P

The fun part b4 coloring was actually painting the whole figure with holographic glitter X3 (specifically, Ugly Holo by @iuilewatercolors)

The hair had to be specific with the colors as well as how I was approaching it. Took me 6 tries + a small-scale test to find what in looking for + satisfied with.

1. Imperial Blue by @cactusikart_colors for the base color

2. No. 191 by @iuilewatercolors for the color-changing tips of the hair

3. X-mas Blue by @iuilewatercolors for the 1st layer of hair shine

4. Sondheim by @reneeissancecolours for the 2nd layer of hair shine

5. Permafrost by @stayceeillustrations for the highlight + brightest part of the hair shine

Inner ears were “Prism” + gold parts were “Golden Leaves” by @lisilinka X)

I repeated the process for the tail but wanted to add more… texture? Fluff? The tail was definitely satisfying + the best part X3

The bottom was tricky, I admit, bcuz I didn’t want to make it the same color as the tail. Solution: mix a variety of blues + a black in a porcelain plate + hoped for the best. I actually screwed up a couple times with the coloring of the pants. Luckily the shading helped separate the tail + the pants.

Reaching character limit here!

#doodlenotebookpages … #chrispavonszaneartemis https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm909mMPeOR/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[the-fae-folk]

How to Build a World?

Some time ago, I answered a writing question as Quoth the Raven that dealt with how to go about Worldbuilding for your story (Found Here). I’ve now rewritten the piece because I was struck with inspiration for a much more poetic form. I rather like it this way... ______________________________________________________________ Every story has to start somewhere. Some start with an endless void, a dark abyss where spirits drift over the waters, an egg which has not yet hatched to reveal the universe contained within. But in my opinion the best beginnings are found on a blank page.

Sing an ode to the whiteness of a screen, to the sterile form of an unfilled notebook amidst a pile of notebooks you keep buying but never write in. I call upon thee, oh Muses, let the divine speak into the shadows and let there be light. Fountains may spring up from the deeps and the oceans pay homage to the moon above. I am but a humble supplicant to the gods of paper and ink, where multiverses of verse and prose are crafted from words alone.

A world must be made through the number seven. Seven days, seven dwarfs, seven epochs, seven sins, seven virtues, seven founding principles of building a world.

The First is of Magic. All worlds begin with magic in a way. You can call it by any name you desire; Nature, physics, deity. First a word is spoken, a rule, a way of being. Whether the universe is filled with blinding empty light and shaded to sight by suns of shadow and fires that burn black enough to repel the light of night, or if the endless skies are oceans where planets drift in bubbles of air and stars keep the endless ice of the galactic abyss at bay with their warmth.

It is a question of how your world works, a list of rules that cannot be broken by even you as the rest of the pieces fall into place. A willing suspension of disbelief is a fragile thing. If it breaks, you are dashed to pieces beneath the weight of fallen expectations. A reader betrayed is rarely forgiving to those who have broken their own laws.

So write, write of the shifting of stars and the fundamental forces of love and duty. In your canon proclaim the laws of wind and gravity, atoms of justice, and the blessed radiation of whimsy and wonder.

But once you have finished, and the last law carved upon the last stone atop your own Sinai, you must heed them always. From gods to grains of sand on a distant shore, none can break these commandments.

When you speak a second time, it is of Place. Of mountains and mayhem, of vast oceans where secrets lie forgotten far beneath the waves.

Reach out your hand to carve canyons from the paragraphs on the page, riverbeds that flow swift and pure into great lakes and down into silent aquifers below the very earth itself. Whether one sun, or seven, or none at all, this world must be made known through careful descriptions and prose.

And as long as it does not contradict your rules, you can have islands that fly through the skies, glass rain, giant geodic structures that have never seen the light of a single day. What of glaciers that chill the whole land into an ice age? Or a supervolcano that belches molten glass from its summit?

Then, as your world is forming, think on the third principle of building a world. Life.

Deep down in the depths of the darkest seas you might form creatures so alien they defy the very mind, drifting on currents and living without sun or sky, only in eternal shadow and crushing pressure. Or you may begin on land instead, with green skinned goblin-like folk who live among the trees and speak in song and melody as they hunt the fire breathing dragonflies. Perhaps even the sky might be your dominion. Pods of whales that swim among the clouds, blowing geysers of wind high into the abyss of blue and white that turns to stars at the highest heights.

Each living thing lies in connection with one another. Eating, growing, changing, moving. Flowers make bioluminescence in forever darkened woods and caverns. Gas filled balloon-like pods could carry creatures high into the sky with them, letting them escape from predators.

Here and now your pen is the fountain that begets creation, your mind is the tree from which all life springs. This world is your garden to cultivate, your Eden cradled between life giving rivers.

Wherever you touch there will be life. In the most scorching of deserts, in the deepest caves and wells, in the furthest canyons, upon the coldest glaciers. And as long as you remain true to your rules of reality, your world can take even the most whimsical of forms. Trees whose roots tangle among the clouds and whose boughs hang down towards the distant earth below, people who can see colors that neither you nor I have ever heard of. Each new thing makes your world more complex, more real, more connected.

Perhaps you know what comes next? In truth it has already begun, for your fourth is of Cognition.

It may be that somewhere in your world there is a creature or plant, perhaps many, or even all, who have tasted that forbidden fruit and became more than they were, became aware that their eyes had been closed and for the first time knew that they could open them and look.

What might it be like? To look out at the world and for the first time see it anew? Before there was survival and safety, food and mating. There was no time for beauty, no time for dreaming, no time for such things when every moment was needed. Yet at some point, there was time, and someone stopped to look. And everything changed.

Most creators prefer the humanoid form when building cognizant peoples, though not all, some few might choose different shapes. Plant, reptile, insect, or even stranger forms the likes of which might not be found here in our world, but only in that world of their making.

But the shape isn’t the important thing. No, what is vitally important is the manner of cognizance. How is it that your people understand the world? What are they aware of? What things can they hear? Or touch? Taste? See? Smell? Or perhaps they have senses that can only be described in roundabout ways to readers who will never entirely understand what it is to perceive in such ways, like blind men who try to know what it is like to see.

Now it is time at last for your fifth. This is the culmination of all things thus far, the laws of reality, the geography, the life, the cognizant peoples… Your fifth is Culture.

Peoples gather together. They make laws to protect or to divide, to ensure and ensnare. They farm or hunt for food, creating new ways with new generations. And best of all they tell stories. Oh those stories. These are the things of which culture is made. Stories that are woven into tapestries or painted into murals, songs are composed to evoke the emotions of such stories, even food is cooked to be eaten as the stories are told.

But there are other things which can affect your peoples and persons. Where do they get their clothing? Animal hides or plant fibers? Perhaps wool or cotton? And how is it obtained? Technology? Magic? Labor? Do the people even wear clothing at all? For some might not find it necessary if they are perfect for the place they dwell in their world.

What foods can they eat? Would you or I even recognize it? Let alone be able to digest it without agonizing pains in our stomachs? A fruit that glows might transfer its glow to those who eat it, giving them light to see in the dark and energy to live another day. Certain beasts are only slaughtered on certain days of the star calendars, for festivals and holy feast days, for ceremonial reasons and never secular ones.

Here is the most dangerous part in your journey, for the building of culture can become a mire or a maze, a labyrinthine pit from whence you can never escape no matter how much you build. Every detail begets another, and cultures are more than any one person can make. World Builder though you are, you still have limitations of your own.

So you look to the sixth, which is history. From whence did they come? And where do their journeys go? And of course, what happened at every step in between? Kings and emperors to the feuds of petty farmers. Did the dragons lay claim to the seven clawed mountains in the forty ninth century or did the Arch Astronomer falsely claim they did so that he might turn his people’s thoughts to southern trade?

Culture takes time to move and once it begins it will not stop. From the grand world point of view to the shortsightedness of individuals, each and every step will be important. Religions and wars, cataclysmic events, heroes, and even plagues. Everything that arises when you add time to the world you have created is history. The world is a living breathing thing that will move on its own if you let it.

The seventh day arrives. Some deities might rest, seeing that all is good. But not you, for your world is made in slavish worship to the Story. A world built so that it might contain, for good or ill, a tale of your telling.

So write, prideful one. Your hubris has driven you to follow in the footsteps of the gods themselves, building a world where before was nothing. It is time to look closer, to follow a single strand of thread in this tapestry you have woven from dreams and shadows.

Now that you have crafted for us an entire world, tell us your tale. We are listening.

[caffeinated-croissant]

Blue, Red Black and Infinity

This is my submission for @writersmonth ‘s pride collection. The prompt was to write using all the colors of a flag. I chose the Polyamorous flag with a story featuring Jason Grace, Percy Jackson, and Rachel Dare.

Jason Anderson Grace and Rachel Elizabeth Dare were artists. They each had their own preferences of mediums, styles, and inspiration. Jason preferred his sketchbooks, his ink, his charcoal and his oil pastels. Rachel on the other hand loved acrylic paint, canvas, water color, and chalk. Jason’s style tended to be more realistic in nature while Rachel took on the approach of abstract and full of color that maybe never was there but always should’ve been. Most of Jason’s inspiration comes from the influences around him and what he metaphorically consumes in content. Rachel takes her inspiration as it comes to her, maybe it’ll be a dream or a random thought or maybe the world just speaks to her long enough for something to form. 

Between Rachel and Jason there was one thing they could easily agree to in terms of art, their boyfriend Percy Jackson was a fucking masterpiece and he was the perfect surface to work together with their art. 

Right now in their three bedroom apartment, Percy was sitting on one of the special chairs in the shared art studio as Rachel and Jason used his chest as a canvas. Rachel was sitting to his left on a cushioned stool while Jason was over on his right sitting on a matching stool. They were both using non-toxic paint/ paint markers while listening to a playlist Percy had made for them. 

“Is this a together project or two separate pieces?” Percy asked them as his eyes wandered around the studio with so many different pieces, some finished, others works in progress, and a small portion currently discontinued. 

“It’s gonna be a singular piece.” Jason answered not bothering to look up and lose his concentration of whatever he was. 

Percy didn’t have to see what it was for him to know it would turn out breathtaking. “What is it?” 

“It’s just a little something we’ve been working on as a surprise.” Jason barely glanced up but in that split second of eye contact Percy could feel himself getting lost in the ever changing blue of the sky. It could shift from a blue mixed with dark grays and tinged with purples, into a baby blue tinted with silvers and grays and finally into the shade it was now: the deep clear blue of the summer sky. These were Percy’s favorite shades of his long time favorite color. 

=

“Rachel, why are your initials the only ones that make any sense?” Percy was lying in the middle of the bed and staring up into the popcorn ceiling void of their apartment. Jason was curled next to him with his arm firly locked around Percy’s waist. Rachel was on his other side partially ready for the day and partially distracted with new painting ideas. 

She glanced over and tilted her head at him, “What do you mean?”

“Out of all our initials, only yours makes any sense. Mine go like pej or P.E.J and both sound weird. Jason’s are jag which sounds like jagged or they end up as J.A.G which also sounds weird. But then your initials go and make the word red, like your hair.” 

“I dunno but I guess I’m just special like that,” she laughed before getting up to finish getting ready. 

“With the craft fair coming up next weekend, do you want me to run by the craft store and get anything?”

“That would honestly be great, I need more of those jars and the red paint you got a while ago.”

“Alright then, when Jason wakes up I’ll write everything down and head out.” He pulled her in for a soft kiss.

=

The rooftop of their apartment was not Percy’s first choice for a date but as it turns out it definitely isn’t the worst idea that was ever thought of. And as long as they all stayed away from the edge Percy knew he’d be fine and so would his lovers. 

The date itself was Jason’s idea and he set it all up to surprise Rachel and Percy. He set out blankets and cushions from the apartment to make a comfy little nest for them all. They ended up watching the movie Tangled together with Jason sitting in the middle. When the movie started playing the song I See The Light Jason looked up from the movie and over to the loves of his life on either side of him. They were both somewhere between attentive and close to nodding off. 

Jason gave a soft kiss to Rachel’s forehead, expecting to be able to place a soft kiss in the dark curls on his other side. Instead Rachel blinked up at him before shifting to lay on top of him and make out.

As the song finished they broke apart before shifting further to see Percy easily curled into Jason’s side, more asleep than awake. The pair glanced at each other before Rachel gave a mischievous smirk. 

Jason shook his head, already having an idea of what she wanted to do. 

Rachel gave him a light kiss on the nose before moving her attention to her new target. 

In order to at least try and stop Rachel before she pounced, Jason wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed her right against him. 

Rachel was not complacent in being physically held down, not when a perfectly kissable Percy was right next to her, and so she struggled and wrestled with the one armed Jason. Naturally they both became absorbed in the fight as it escalated to the point where Jason started using both his arms. They rolled around on the roof for a bit each trying to pin the other, until finally Rachel was sitting on top of him with both of his arms pinned to his side. 

She was already breathing heavily as she leaned down to kiss him, when they once again broke apart she remembered why they were wrestling. Looking over she saw her other lover sitting up still looking half asleep. He was wrapped up in what looked like one of Jason’s oversized hoodies, and his black curls were messier than usual. 

Rachel glanced down at Jason before trying to book it over to Percy. That did not work nearly as well as she hoped, considering now it was a free for all race and, as long as no one got hurt, sabotage was fair game. 

The race was not long lived but was eventually won by Jason who easily pulled Percy into his lap and kissed him. As the nice girlfriend (and sore loser) she was, Rachel of course started trying to tickle them both; and let it be known to the world Jason and Percy were both very ticklish but so was she. Jason and Percy were forced apart by Percy’s breathless giggles. Jason of course took his revenge and their war began again this time as a free for all in a lawless land.

The fight was long and left them exhausted. But left them with certain highlights like Jason being ganged up on by Rachel and Percy, or at the end when Percy started laughing so hard he had to wave a white flag as his chest hurt. After the white flag was called they all paused to collapse next to one another and catch their breath. 

“Guys, look up at the moon tonight,” Percy said, trying to point out the full moon above. 

“It’s huge!” Jason pointed out. 

“That's cause tonight’s a super moon.” 

“What’s that mean?” Rachel asked, looking over at Percy. 

“Basically that it’s a full moon and this is the closest the moon will be to the earth this year.”

The trio didn’t talk very much after that, instead studying a combination of each other and the inky black of the night sky with its infinite stars.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Finding A Light // Part Two

Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: A simple afternoon in Hogsmeade leads to the start of a tradition.

Warnings: fluff, mild angst

Part one

Ron found himself struggling to keep his focus on his portion of teaching throughout the week, and it was beginning to become apparent that his mind was elsewhere.

“Mr. Weasley?” A student had asked for what would be the third time now, and she had started to wave her hand in front of his face.

Startled, he looked up from the parchment he scribbled on with his quill that had long since run out of ink. He offered a smile to the confused girl, cheeks burning as Lupin laughed next to him. He sat up a little straighter, clearing his throat. “My apologies, Alice. Can I—can I help you with something?”

She looks at the blushing redhead quizzically before offering a polite smile. “Will there be extra credit available?”

The question made him smile, the eager young student always looking for ways to better her grade even though it doesn’t seem like it could get any higher than a perfect score. Such a quality had reminded him very much of Hermione.

“I suppose I’ll have to think of something,” he says, though there couldn’t possibly be anything new to think of without spoiling future lessons.

She accepts his answer with a nod, though her shoulders do slump in a bit of disappointment as she walks back to her seat. Lupin is still grinning knowingly at him when he looks over, a sigh leaving his lips.

“You wouldn’t happen to be so distracted over this girl you’ve met, would you?” He asks, and though Ron hasn’t said anything yet, the pale crimson that colors his cheeks almost immediately in response is enough to know he’d hit the nail on the head.

“Who told you that?” Ron asks, plucking at the quill in his hand as he raises his brow. He still tries to play it off even though he knows his cover has been blown.

“I do have a keen sense of hearing, you know,” he laughs, “I heard you at dinner last week. You’re not very discreet with your emotions, Weasley.”

He nods down at his hands, sighing as he bites back his growing smile. “I’m convinced you and McGonagall love to torment me.”

He laughed again, nodding at Ron’s words. “It’s only our job. And it’s one you make very easy for us.”

“It’s absolutely not,” Ron says, trying to remain stoic but he couldn’t find it in him to stifle his own laughter. “I swear you two are making up for my family’s lack of teasing.”

—

Ron found himself wandering the familiar stone pathway to the very shop he’d spent the better part of a week thinking about, though the whole time he’d wondered if this was ridiculous. Had you really hoped to see him again? Or was he blowing it out of proportion by mistaking a friendly gesture for that of an invitation to return. He wasn’t really sure of himself the more he ran that humiliating scenario through his head.

His feet seemed to have given him no choice in the matter as he continued to navigate the familiar village, brushing by clusters of students who argued about where to go next. It wasn’t that big of a deal, he thought. If you didn’t recognize him then he could just leave and put it all behind him. But if you did, he could just say he was buying chocolates to send home, if only to not make it completely obvious that the reasons for his visit entirely were to see you.

When the dark wood trim and pink sign came into view he wasn’t sure if his arrival came too soon or not soon enough as he shook out his hands. He felt ridiculous with the way his heart beat out of his chest, or the nerves swirling around in his stomach. First impressions had already been made, no matter how foolish and flustered, so there was no reason to be so nervous. But his heart and his brain were not quite on the same page.

The sweet air of the small shop hit him in a wave the moment he opened the door, a handful of third years rushing past him which inevitably caused him to stumble back a step. The excitement seems to have not worn off just yet. His eyes immediately went to the front counter where you’d said your goodbyes the week before, but he was rather disappointed when it wasn’t you who was there. He didn’t let it deter him, though, instead stepping further into the shop to have a look at the candies.

Despite such a small stretch of time having gone by since he was last there, it seemed as though their inventory was completely different. They still had their best sellers on brilliant and eye catching displays, still had large glass jars filled to the brim with colorful candy, but there were far more new things than he had remembered there being. Even with that being said, he was still more focused on the fact that he hadn’t seen you yet and it’d been a whole ten minutes of wandering around aimlessly, surely looking a bit out of place.

Three aisles in and he still hadn’t seen you. He was fighting the urge to ask where you were, feeling as though that’d be a ridiculous thing to do. Because what was he to say if asked for a reason? Surely he couldn’t give them the real one, that would be utterly humiliating. He was beginning to think he misread your words as he weaved between students, regret forming in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he’d have better luck another time, though he didn’t like the idea of waiting for when that would be.

Upon passing the counter again, his brain scrambled for a reason not to, fighting between his own curiosity and the side of him telling himself not to do it and just leave. But he’s quickly made up his mind.

“Excuse me,” he says, clearing his throat when his words came out rather timidly. He takes a step closer when he captures the cashiers attention. “Would you happen to know where Y/n is?”

Any trace of hopefulness had left when he heard the mans response. “I’m afraid not, her shift ended sometime within the last hour. Would you like me to leave her a message?”

Ron was quick to shake his head, masking the clear disappointment he felt with a smile. “No…no that’s okay. Thank you.”

He left the shop empty handed and stuffed them in his pockets, releasing the sigh he’d been holding. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal, really, he’d only met you once. On a busy day at that. But it was something about the way your brief interaction had stopped time for lack of better wording. He knew it was rather silly to feel that way, but it’s what made him come back.

As his mother had always said, if it was meant to happen it would have. With that in mind he tried to brush it off and focus on other matters, like the stack of assignments that needed grading once he returned. It wasn’t something he looked forward to, trying to stall and walk as leisurely as he could through the busy village.

He couldn’t imagine reading dozens of those things being any more fun than it was to write them, and if he gave it any more thought he would completely ruin his mood. He certainly wasn’t as happy as the students around him though he knows he’s probably being a bit dramatic. But this very place wasn’t feeling quite so magical, for lack of a better, less ironic word. Everything seemed to bother him in that moment; the way the wind blew his hair in his eyes, the fact that he kept tripping on the uneven stone streets, the way that—

“Ron?”

He looked up from his gaze at his feet, turning in the direction the voice had come from. His heart skipped a beat upon seeing it belonged to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when you joined him and he quickly forgot those things annoying him.

“Hey,” he nearly beams, and suddenly the thought of his mother’s wise words didn’t make him feel quite so bad anymore.

“I’m sorry to have left you hanging, I finished my shift half an hour ago and decided to stick around here in case maybe you did turn up,” you shrug, nonchalant in your explanation as you walk up to him.

His smile widened as he raised a curious brow at you, his nerves beginning to disappear and be replaced with some confidence. “So you waited for me?”

You flushed a soft pink at his words, looking up at him with a laugh. “Perhaps. Only because you decided to come back.”

It was his turn to blush a shade of crimson at your witty remark, smiling down at his feet as you accentuated your teasing with a nudge of your elbow to his arm. It was true, and though he’d never admit it aloud, it seems as though he didn’t have to.

“Would you like to join me for tea? I always stop by Madam Puddifoot’s after my weekend shifts. She’s quite fond of me so I bet I can get you a free pastry if you’d like.” Your words were followed by the warmest of smiles, and he found himself unable to resist such an offer.

“Yeah…yeah that’d be nice,” he says with a soft laugh, a bit stunned and more so when you grabbed his wrist and tugged him towards the shop.

As a testament to your words, you were greeted warmly by the older woman who recited what he assumed was your order. When she turned to him he was at a loss for words, cheeks reddening once more before you asked for another of what you’d gotten.

“Thanks,” he smiles, taking a seat across from you at a nearby table. “I’ve never been here before, my friend told me it was a bit…sappy.”

“Oh it very much is, but she can make a very good cup of tea.”

He nods with a laugh, any worry that he may have said something too bold about this place you seemed to love now dissipating.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself immersed in conversation, finding it rather easy to talk to him about anything and everything. Any pause in conversation had been very brief and quickly filled with something else, a dull moment never finding its way between the two of you. Tea cups had long since been empty and several students had filtered in and out of the shop while the two of you remained at the same table, blissfully unaware of the fact that you were quickly becoming the only two residing in the place. It didn’t seem to matter all that much, nor did that stack of essays collecting dust on his desk. Those could wait another day.

4 Months Later

Spending every Saturday afternoon at Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop was quickly adopted as a tradition between the two of you should your schedules allow it. Over that expanse of time you learned about Ron’s wonderfully large family, and unfortunately the loss of a beloved member of it. You’ve learned he has an affinity for quidditch, well, maybe more than an affinity because he spent a very lengthy amount of time talking about it until he shut himself up. And perhaps your favorite part was experiencing firsthand his ever growing hatred for spiders. It was a memory you never let him forget, the way his voice adopted a higher pitch as he put a good ten feet between himself and the small spider until you had taken care of the problem. You’d made a promise to yourself to never let him live it down.

But in spite of the humor, you found yourself thinking that your time spent with him was quite possibly the most fun you’ve ever had. Not that Ron Weasley had been one to walk on the wild side, but everything that seemed mundane before became much more interesting when he was involved.

Over the course of that time, Ron had learned your hobbies and just as easily the things you don’t like. He learned you can fill up your cup of tea as if it’d never been drank with just a simple motion of your hand which is something you inevitably taught him to do. It lead to him overflowing his mug and spilling his tea on his lap, something you also aim to never let him forget. And he doesn’t know how, but you can change the color of just about anything you please, though you tried it on his hair and it hadn’t quite worked out so well. He felt like Tonks as he stood in the middle of your apartment with purple hair as you laughed hysterically.

However, to get sentimental, he quickly found you to be the one thing to bring out a smile when he finds himself falling back to the memories of his losses. It didn’t take much effort on your end, your presence would always suffice. And above all the countless things he’s learned about you, perhaps this next one was the most prominent. Ron Weasley accepted the fact that he was falling in love with his best friend. It wasn’t unexpected, he felt as though maybe he’d always had some form of feelings since day one. But he found it much more intense than those days, though he’d never admit it, not for a long while.

Currently, you found yourselves tucked away in the cozy little building as the rain poured outside, decorated floor to ceiling in Valentine’s Day related things. Even though it was just about a month before the actual day, there was no stopping Madam Puddifoot from indulging in her favorite holiday. Walls were decorated in enchanted red Cupid’s that shot glitter and confetti from their arrows, frilly heart covered tablecloths and lacy napkins, and even pink and red frosted pastries. Ron was beginning to understand why Harry hadn’t liked this place so much.

But it was weekly tradition, and nothing could deter him from coming here with you, not even the heart shaped cookies or the pink confetti stuck annoyingly in his hair.

“What can I get you today?” Madam asked, her notepad in hand though she really hadn’t used it very much. Not for the two of you at least.

“Peppermint tea with two sugars,” Ron says without hesitation. When he’s met with silence he lifts his head from the dessert menu, finding two sets of eyes on him.

It wasn’t until then that he realized he blurted your order, having known it like the back of his hand by this point. It wasn’t until then that he realized her question was directed at you first. His cheeks redden to what felt like the same shade as the table cloth, and he found himself wishing he could rewind and not have done that very embarrassing thing.

“Sorry,” He says, laughing awkwardly as he gulps. Though he’s only met with your sweet smile and a soft laugh from Madam who shook her head fondly at the two of you.

“And what can I get you, Mr. Weasley?”

“I’ll have a Yorkshire tea with extra sugar, please,” He says, much more timid, “and can I have a slice of cake if you’ve got any left?”

“Of course, my dear,” she smiles warmly. There would always be a slice waiting for him because she always made extra in preparation for the ginger boy’s weekly visit.

“Are you blushing?” You jest, chin in your hand as you squint at him from across the wobbly table when she rushes off.

“It’s just, you know…cold outside,” he defends, doing a terrible job of being convincing.

“We’ve been in here for nearly half an hour, Ronald. I’d hate to say it, but I know you’re lying,” you laugh and he looks to his side with a scoff, biting the inside of his cheek as if to will away any more color attempting to flood his cheeks just at the mere mention of it.

“You’re a pain sometimes, you know that?” He says though he smiles rather fondly at you.

“It happens to be my specialty,” you say, eyes skimming over the various holiday themed drink names on the lavishly printed menu. He steals another glance through his light ginger lashes, not missing the way a soft smile had been gracing your lips at the banter.

He shakes his head, laughing quietly to himself as he picks at his napkin. Was it really that evident how much of a mess you made him? He really hoped not.

Not much was said after that, yet the silence was comfortable. He watched as the rain poured outside, thick droplets trickling down the window panes and puddles forming in the uneven walkway. As much as he didn’t enjoy this kind of weather, it really had added to the ambience of this place. It made it all the more welcoming.

“I think we’ve got to apparate home if it doesn’t slow down out there,” he suggests, turning to you.

A frown immediately worked its way on your face at the thought. You hated apparating and he knew that, you could never quite get used to it’s side effects.

“That might just be your worst idea, Ron,” you say, huffing out at the thought. He laughs though, bringing a smile to your face.

The moment is quickly interrupted when two teas are brought to the table and given to their rightful owners, Ron’s highly anticipated cake set along with his. Triple chocolate cake.

“Will I be using the couples discount for you two?” The jovial woman asks with a smile, tucking her pink pencil behind her ear as she settles her hands on her hips.

“Oh! It’s not a date, well, not like that,” Ron says, cheeks burning as he laughed softly, clearly flustered the more he spoke, “we’re just friends.”

Madam Puddifoot apologizes for her blunder, though she still gives you both the discount regardless because she’s seen the way he looks at you. Over the many weeks she’s served the seemingly inseparable pair, she knew friends don’t look at friends quite the way you two do. It was almost fairytale-like. But neither of you seemed to be privy to the others lingering gazes and she wasn’t one to pry, not too much anyway.

Once she left you turned to him with slightly narrowed eyes and a bit of a frown you tried to conceal, finding yourself feeling the smallest bit of hurt, or something, simmering in your stomach. You didn’t know why it had struck a nerve and you didn’t like it.

“What?” He asks softly.

“I don’t think you could have said that any faster, Ron,” you say, stirring your spoon around in your tea a bit too vigorously, the hot liquid spilling over the meticulously painted edge of the cup and onto the small matching saucer it had been resting on.

He furrows his brows, confused at your change in attitude momentarily before a soft smile began to pull at the corner of his mouth. “You seem a bit upset about that, Y/n.”

He tilts his head in amused curiosity, watching as you rolled your eyes before he took a sip of his drink.

“I don’t believe I seem like anything.”

Your tone was playful as you spoke the words very matter-of-factly, though he didn’t miss the bite lacing around them. He only nods as he laughs quietly down at his own tea, not in mocking but in slight amusement.

Your soft smile shortly returned though Ron wondered if your sudden edge, no matter how subtle, was simply nothing or if it was indicative of something more. Perhaps it really did bother you, more than you let on. But he knows that if he lets his mind go down the road of those possibilities, he will only either get his hopes up or hurt his own feelings with scenarios that haven’t even happened. So, for the time being, he pushes it to the back of his mind and hoped it wouldn’t resurface.

“Have you uh, have you checked if that book store in town is open today? You said you wanted to go,” he says, trying desperately to find his way back to comfortable conversation.

“They’re closed,” you say, and he almost winced at the change in your tone whether you had meant to or not. No smile of yours could’ve hid that. He ignored the fact that you had mentioned earlier that they indeed were open, he knew if he paid it any more mind then he’d ruin his own day with assumptions.

He just nods, internally scolding himself as he regrets what he said moments ago.

Gaps in conversation weren’t easily filled after that, and he found he was the one starting the most of them. They really couldn’t be considered conversations at that point, more so observations and statements that you responded to before he moved on to the next one. You hadn’t particularly been ignoring him, you never would, but he knew your mood had soured even if you wouldn’t admit it.

You still teased him about the chocolate icing on the corners of his mouth because you’d never pass that opportunity up, or the way he dropped some in his lap because he’d been too focused staring, but you hadn’t stolen a bite like you usually had and you politely turned down his offer of some.

Your stay at the shop wasn’t nearly as extensive as it usually was either, your tea barely finished but you were rather joyous as you bid a goodbye to Madam Puddifoot. Of course you did still put up a fuss about apparating as you hooked your arm with Ron’s, and you did still hug him goodbye at your doorstep. It just wasn’t as tight as it usually was.

He wanted to bring it up, and he wanted to tell you he hadn’t meant it because the fact that you weren’t being your usual self was driving him crazy. But if he brought it up he’d have to tell you why exactly he hadn’t meant what he said, and he wasn’t ready for that conversation. He feels he might never be. So he decides against it as he stands just outside your door.

“See you next week?” He asks meekly when you pull away from him, scratching the back of his neck nervously. He was hoping you wouldn’t decide to ditch him after that.

You pretended to ponder the question for a moment, just to get a rise out of him. Maybe you took a few extra seconds because you were still bothered. You still couldn’t pinpoint why it had gotten under your skin so much. “I’ll see you next week, Weasley.”

Despite the bit of relief he had felt from that moment you still weren’t so cheery with him, and he tried to convince himself that maybe you’d just had a headache, you get like that sometimes when you do. Or maybe you just had a bad day to begin with and didn’t feel like hiding it anymore. He was grasping at straws to figure out a proper explanation for it but everything came circling back to his words.

He took your answer with a nod before apparating back to Hogwarts, unsure of how to perceive your tone this time. It left him to stew in his own regret that night and days to come until he saw you again.

—

Tags: @writeroutoftime

[stillness-in-green]

When MVA/MLA Arc gets animated, what will you be looking forward to the most? What (canon-compliant) additions and/or changed do you want or think Bones should make, if any?

There’s--a lot.  Does that surprise anyone?  There’s a lot.

o  I have been foaming at the mouth for voice actor announcements for almost a year now, particularly for Trumpet, Geten and RD.           Trumpet’s superpower is literally his voice!  I mean, nothing about that statement requires that voice be particularly entrancing, but it certainly seems like it should be, right??             Geten is a boku-type in the manga, but that was literally the only hint foreshadowing his pretty boy face through 21 solid chapters of Pure Feral Gremlin.  Everyone was shocked by Geten’s face reveal!  How do you maintain that surprise value with an actual voice actor in the mix?  Do you not even try?  Do you play up the disparity--in which direction?  I can’t wait to see what they do.           And Re-Destro!  Re-Destro requires so much range!  From his peppy, silly businessman persona, to the urbane commander, from the overeager yes-man to the raving zealot--who on earth do you get to believably cover all that ground?  I can’t even begin to guess, but I am living in anticipation of that article going up on ANN or the official Twitter sources.

o  I’m also much looking forward to getting official coloring on Trumpet and Geten.  Skeptic seems pretty straightforward--black, black, more black--and RD and Curious, we have color art for, but I wonder if Trumpet will also be all black clothes, to go with that dignified politician image of his, or if he’ll get some color to pep him up a little.  What color are those tinted shades of his?  His eyes?  The wicked-cool Sevens Loud?           I assume Geten is all wintery shades, but it’ll be great to confirm which ones.  I mean, we all assume he’s white-haired to better annoy Dabi with family parallels, but what if he turns out to be platinum blond?  And are his eyes blue?  Gray?  White?  What color is that awful parka?           Also, Re-Destro’s stress powers.  Having been writing them as black since at least August--Rorschach test blots are generally black, after all, and they’re the clear inspiration--I would much like it if the anime would have my back on this.  They made Destro’s mask a dark cinnamon brown, though, so I’m prepared to be unpleasantly surprised in this matter.

o  Predictable MLA adaptational choices aside, I’m also eager/anxious about how they’ll handle Spinner’s narration.  What I really hope is that they actually straight-up hand him ALL the narration duties--not just the stuff he dictates directly in the manga, but also e.g. the name and quirk explanation material that Present Mic normally gets, or the previews that are always handled by Deku.           The opening and closing sequences are another big structural thing, of course--based on the flashed snippets of Hawks and Endeavor in both our current and the previous OP, I’m expecting we’ll see at least a bit of something referencing the upcoming internship arc (which I expect to close out the season), but I hope the villains just walk away with the closing entirely.  I want my slice of life villainy ED, dangit.

o  Another thing I’m eager/anxious about would be Kotarou, and the Shimura flashback generally.  There’s a brittle edge of to Kotarou that I really love, and I hope he manages to keep it in the anime, despite the anime being generally not so great at moments that I would describe as “delicate.”  For example, I’d like it if he doesn’t get a super deep voice, and if they could manage to keep his pretty face, and capture how deeply bitter and tired he looks in the scene where he’s reading the letter Nana left him.           Also, I hope they keep the little montage bits and, crucially, the changes of clothes the family goes through.  We see Tenko in no less than five, possibly as many as seven, different T-shirts through the course of that flashback.  It seems like a small thing, but it’s one of the factors that makes me skeptical that AFO gave Tenko Decay, when so many days clearly go by between the opening with the man at the door and the tragic end.  It’d be nice not to see too much resurgence on that just because the anime can’t be bothered to come up with more than one outfit for the Shimuras.

I have enough issues with the anime’s usual adaptation choices that I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high on the actual content of the episodes.  The staff is diverting too much of its major talent to the movies (BAH) these days for me to expect the whole season to look all that great, and it’s never been particularly creative or daring outside of its climactic sakuga-heavy fight scenes anyway.  I’ve also long had a bone to pick with its scoring decisions, and am already eyeballing the climax of the RD/Shigaraki fight and imagining the minor-keyed terrifying dirge I fear the anime will play there, at the moment that Re-Destro (and, shortly afterward, Spinner) are supposed to be experiencing something akin to religious awakenings.           There’s also the issue of the violence and gore--judging by how the anime handled the scene where Shigaraki and Compress maim Overhaul, I have some severe reservations about how much blood they’ll be allowed to get away with, particularly in the scene where the League brutally decimates that CRC group and, of course, Shigaraki’s backstory.  I’m looking at MVA to serve as a preview for how all the same issues will be addressed in the War Arc.

That bit of pessimism aside, as to what I’m hoping they’ll add or change?  Well, off the top of my head.....

o  I would love to get a full episode devoted to the time the League spends fighting Machia.  Not that first tussle, but the six grueling weeks in the mountains.  There’s so much you could add there for character building and atmosphere that Hori didn’t so much as montage through.  Where was their food coming from?  How’d they pick out places to pitch camp?  How much access to news from outside did they have, and how frequently?  What were the circumstances in which Gigantomachia “told them himself” about his great sense of smell??  Stuff like that!             I don’t think we’re at all likely to get this--honestly, the series of late has had enough of a problem with trimming bits and pieces that I’m as worried about what they might cut as I am hyped about things they might add--but the one thing that gives me some hope is the training camp arc.  Specifically, the moment 1-A first gets to the Pussycats’ forest, they get jumped by earth golems, a fight that the manga off-panels entirely, but the anime spends a modest amount of time on, giving the kids a little bit of time to show off their moves and such.  I’d love to get something equivalent for the League.

o  On a similar note, I wouldn’t turn it down if they fleshed out some of those running street fights a bit.  One obvious thing comes to mind: there’s a weird jump in the manga between Skeptic and a horde of his golems being all but on top of Twice at the beginning of 233 and then that fight just--doesn’t happen.  There’s no mention of it at all.  I think the suggestion is that either Machia’s appearance or the tower going down interrupted it--Skeptic breaks off from his fight the same way Geten and Trumpet do theirs, shifting focus to protecting Re-Destro--but it’d be nice to see the anime touch on it.

o  It’d be nice to get a bit of expansion on the nature of the bullying Spinner endured.  We’re told he was, but was it limited to verbal?  Did he get beaten up a lot?  Was there an online element?  Deku’s our only other reference point for “bullied kid,” and whatever one might think about the story’s development of Bakugou’s mentality, it’s been made clear in retrospect that there was a lot more too that than just the matter of Deku’s quirklessness.  I’d love to know how Spinner’s bullying looked in comparison (not least because of some of the theories about Spinner and Deku needing to come to some kind of accord to free Shigaraki from AFO).

o  Make the Villa (both here and during the War Arc) look more realistic.  By which I mean, I know Horikoshi is capable of drawing interesting and lived-in interior spaces--he has an entire chapter dedicated to it in the 1-A dorm room contest, after all--but he normally doesn’t bother much with it.  At UA, it’s not too distracting, because we know good and well that that whole building is probably maintained by Cementoss anyway.  Ditto places like Tartarus (intentionally, dehumanizingly barren) or the League’s post-Kamino hideouts (abandoned homes and industrial spaces).  But the Villa?            For heaven’s sake, it’s called a mountain villa.  It has a clear reception desk on the ground floor; it’s obviously some sort of high-end hotel, if not an outright resort or rentable retreat lodge.  Speaking as someone who’s worked in one, places like that don’t look as fuckin’ bare as the rooms we see there always seem to.  For fanfic purposes, I’m happy to go on telling myself that e.g. the pool and the bar and the restaurant(s) and the gym are in the building Cementoss doesn’t tear in half, but it’d be nice if the anime could class the whole place up a little, maybe put some real furniture and decor in the rooms that are in use.  (Yes, I know this is a ridiculous nitpick.)

o  This is less a change and more a correction, but for fuck’s sake, BONES, give us white-haired Shigaraki.  The climax of Deika is a solid time for it, given that it’s obvious in the manga that Shigaraki’s hair gets paler in Deika--you can see it in the way Horikoshi inks it (which is to say, the way he stops inking it)!  I think if we ever get white-haired Shigaraki in the anime, a somewhat better time as far as narrative justification goes would be when Shigaraki gets out of the tube in the War Arc; you could easily justify it as a side-effect of the surgery.  Still, I’d rather see it here.  I want white-haired Shigaraki, gleaming and brilliant through the scattering ash in that crater, a veritable angel of sacred destruction.           Honestly, more than anything, the crater sequence is the one I hope I love.  It’s probably my favorite single moment in the entire manga, as Shigaraki wins over Re-Destro, Spinner and Gigantomachia in the same moment, and finally comes into his own.  If they can at least nail that, I’ll consider myself pretty satisfied.

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

The Unexpected Perks of War | Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!OC

Part 3

Summary: Allys Baratheon is the only trueborn daughter of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister. After the explosion of The Sept of Balor and the death of Tommen, Allys grew tired of the ghosts that hung in Kings Landing and set off to Dragonstone, hoping to find a semblance of safety.

Note: Masterlist for this series here🤍

The seconds tick by, time ebbing and flowing in its usual pace. Guard rotations shift, the evening meal is prepped, and the sun slowly lowers as the moon prepares to take its place. Yet, every passing moment feels like a century to Allys as she impatiently waits for the keep to go to sleep, everyone except Daenerys of course. 

She wandered through Dragonstone, gripping onto any distraction that would come with an iron tight hold. Her footsteps echoed through the ancient halls, fingers tracing along it’s walls so many times she’d be able to accurately sketch the keep from the inside out. She floated through conversations like a phantom, mind always halfway in the clouds. At one point, she’d ended up in the library, bundled in a corner with a book that looked moments away from falling apart. Her eyes scanned the ink, flipping the pages and actually managing to read through it, but she couldn’t tell you the first thing about the book, not even the title. But eventually, light turned to dark; the moon brilliantly glowing in the sky as it glistened off the waters surrounding Dragonstone. 

The soft sand sinks beneath Allys’ slippered foot, and for a second she contemplates taking the delicate silk shoes off, eager to feel the sand between her toes. She longs to feel like a child again who was too wild to be proper, always frolicking about the shore surrounding King’s Landing, not jaded by the atrocities of the world. Not stained with the knowledge of the horrible things her mother and uncle have done, the sins her grandfather committed in the name of a golden legacy. Momentarily lost in her melancholy, Allys almost does it, if only to feel like that naive child again, but the fearsome roar of a dragon pulls Allys from her reminiscing. 

Flying high above the ground, Drogon lets out a ferocious war, the sound reverberating in Allys’ ears and she could swear she felt the ground beneath her feet tremble. The dragon was massive and terrifying, in shades of red and black, the colors of House Targaryen, but he was beautiful in a dangerous way. And if the sun wasn’t already hidden away while the moon shines bright, he would no doubt blot it out. She’s captivated by him, as she is with all the dragons, but Drogon demands her attention. He’s the largest of the three, named after Daenerys’ late husband Khal Drogo, and if someone told Allys his very soul resides inside Drogon, she would believe them. All of the dragons fiercely protect their mother, but Drogon does it with a ferocity that only a Dothraki warlord could possess.

Her gaze however moves to the form on top of the dragon. She knows who it is without needing to see her face, there’s only one person here that could ride Drogon so freely. Drogon begins to lower towards the ground, and Allys subconsciously moves to meet where he’d land. She grabs onto her skirts, lifting them up as to avoid dirting anymore than necessary, and just walks, any nerves and fears about being burned alive banished from her thoughts. Daenerys would never let any of them do that to her.

Crash.

Drogon’s large form lands on the sandy ground, red eyes locking on Allys, opening his massive jaws and showing his razor sharp teeth that could rip her apart within seconds. But she’s not afraid. She continues her approach, the dampened sand squishing under her feet, water seeping through the silk shoes and onto her skin. Her eyes flit to Daenerys sitting on Drogon, looking every bit like the regal Dragon Queen she is. 

Her silver hair is pulled back into a series of braids, something Allys learned is a part of Dothraki culture, each strand curled and cascading down her back and spilling over her shoulders. Her bright purple eyes are already locked onto Allys, the harshness usually present in her War Room meetings replaced with a softness more akin to a child. Her pale skin glows in the moonlight, the stars casting beautiful highlights on all the right spots. Instead of her usual black and red attire, she’s wearing a dress in a light shade of blue, the fabric thick enough to fight any chill from the night air, but still breathable. Her signature three headed dragon broach is still pinned to her dress, holding in place her shimmering cloak that looks like dragon scales. A smile rests on her delicate face, filling Allys with all sorts of warm feelings.

She’s beautiful, by the Old Gods and the new, Allys is mystified by Daenerys and everything about her. 

Maintaining eye contact, Daenerys effortlessly slides off of Drogon’s back. Her feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. She moves towards Allys with the natural confidence she exudes, the easy charms she possesses always her biggest asset, only second to her dragons. In what feels like an eternity, Daenerys closes the distance between them. She’s close enough that Allys can clearly hear each breath she takes, but far enough away to be proper. And while she is only less than an arm’s length away, she feels like there’a a gaping canyon in between them.

“Thank you for meeting me tonight, Lady Allys,” Daenerys says, her voice like silk. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Your Grace,” Allies said, a teasing lilt in her voice. Her lips pull into a smile, bright enough to even blind the sun. The smile on Daenerys’ face widens as well. And if Allys’ smile is the sun, then Daenerys is the moon, captivating everyone with her soft and ethereal beauty.

“Shall we?” Daenerys says, guesting behind her towards Drogon, still in his same position, although he’s no longer baring his teeth and burning into Allys with his eyes. Her eyes widen a fraction, unsure what else to do.

“You mean we’re going to…?” Allys whispers, pointing at Drogon, hand low at her side as if she’s afraid the dragon in question will see. Daenerys looks behind her and then back at Allys, amusement brimming in her eyes, and she laughs. Not the quiet chuckle you give to Lords or Ladies from noble houses that you don’t want to offend, or the awkward squawk you make when in an uncomfortable situation. This is a real laugh, the kind that makes you throw your head back and close your eyes, that brings a pain to your stomach from laughing too hard. It’s loud, being carried away by the wind to every corner of Dragonstone, and it’s beautiful. 

In that moment Allys decides it’s the best sound she’s ever heard, that no minstrel, no matter how talented, could ever play a tune sweeter than this. 

“Yes, we’re going to ride Drogon.” Daenerys reaches out and grasps Allys’ hand. While Allys hands are cold and dry, her skin not accustomed to the weather, Daenerys’ are warm and soft, as if the fire in Drogon runs through her veins.  She turns and walks towards Drogon, pulling Allys, who doesn’t put up a fight, with her. Her heart is pounding against her chest, a blend of anxiety and excitement coursing through her blood. 

A dragon, a real dragon. She’s about to ride a dragon. 

She’s in a daze as Daenerys approaches Drogon, reaching her hand out to caress Drogon’s scaled face. He nuzzles into her touch, a pur similar to that of a cat coming from him as he nudges closer to her. The startling size difference between Daenerys’ hand and Drogon snout is enough to make Allys stop breathing, yet he isn’t acting like a terrifying beast. In fact, he’s more like a domesticated pet looking for attention than a fire breathing serpent, and that’s what keeps Allys in place. 

For a moment, she has a burst of bravery, a need to impress Daenerys, which causes her to step forward and reach her left hand out to Drogon. He turns his attention to her and huffs, the breath feeling like summer heat against her skin, but to her surprise, he leans his head forward. The feeling of his rough scales under her fingertips is…odd, he was as hot as Allys imagined he would be, similar to touch the barrier between a roaring hearth. Allys is at a loss, unsure of where to move her hand now that it rests on him, then she feels something soft and cool in comparison to Drogon over her hand. 

She glances over and meets Daenerys’ gaze, her smile isn’t as large and beaming anymore, instead it’s weeter, more delicate, as if she’s afraid that this moment could disappear. Allys knows because she feels the same. 

“Here, gently pet him here,” she says, guiding Allys’ hand in the center of his face and in between his serpentine eyes. She guides her hand down, as Allys’ nails lightly press into Drogon, who purs in delight, until her hand reaches the tip of his nose, inches away from his teeth. The tip of his nose is soft like that of a dog, but not as wet. It’s nice to feel a sensation that is familiar to Allys. 

“I can’t believe it, I’m petting a dragon!” Allys exclaims, nearly breathless from excitement. Her eyes are wide and wild, beaming with the radiance of the sun. Daenerys laughs, this was softer than her previous laughter, but just as sweet. 

“What would you say to riding a dragon?” 

And Allys can’t speak, her brain refusing to work hard enough to think of something to say. So instead she squeaks like a mouse, nodding her head far too enthusiastically to be proper. But Daenerys just laughs, taking the hand of Allys’ she still grasps, and leads her to one of Drogon’s wings, Daenerys getting on first and then holding a hand out to help Allys up. The feel of the leather wings are strange, similar to walking on the carpets and rugs in The Red Keep, but tougher and with a better grip.

Daenerys helps Allys get onto Drogon, making sure she is situated behind her. Instinctively, Allys wraps her arms around Daenerys’ waist, placing her chin atop Daenerys’ shoulder, the warm fabric soothing her frostbitten face. A flush appears on Allys’ face from the proximity, but just snuggles further into Daenerys, the anticipation of actually flying turning her stomach into knots. 

“Sōvēs.” 

Allys lurches forward, the sound of Drogon’s heavy footsteps beating into the beach. And they’re moving, slowly at first, but then quicker and quicker as Drogon picks up more momentum. Allys squeezes Daenerys just a hair tighter as Dany throws her head back, laughing in delight - the sound being swallowed by the howling wind. 

Just when they are about to hit the ocean surrounding Dragonstone, Drogon lifts his great wings and soars into the sky. The wind is cold and unforgiving, but Allys can’t bring herself to care, as the wind whips through her hair, instantly tangling it. The higher and higher they fly, the smaller everything looks below them. And Allys can’t help the shout that leaves her mouth, the sound mixing with the winds around them and the powerful roar Drogon releases. 

                                                       o0o0o0o

They fly around on Drogon for the next hour and Allys never wants it to end. But eventually, they begin to get closer and closer to the ground until Drogon lands with a thundering thud. Daenerys slides off of Drogon with ease, holding her hand out to aid Allys off of the dragon. When her feet finally touch solid ground, they wobble and shake, and if not for Daenerys holding onto her, Allys surely would’ve greeted the ground with her face. 

Flushing bright red with shaky hands and a racing heartbeat, Allys looks up at Daenerys. And Daenerys looks at her, cheeks stained red as well.  

“That was-- amazing. Thank you, so so much,” Allys says, still attempting to catch her breath, something highly unlikely with how close Daenerys is.

“It’s my pleasure.”

And then Daenerys takes one step closer, Allys mimicking her movements. Then suddenly they’re only a breath away from each other. And for the first time Allys truly notices how short Daenerys is compared to her. She always carries such a strong presence, Allys imagined her 9ft. tall in her mind. But she doesn’t mind. It makes Daenerys seem real, something difficult to picture for the woman who brought dragons back into the world.

“Well, I should probably return to my room,” Allys says, but makes no movement to move away. 

“Yes, it is rather late,” Daenerys says, the corner of her lips tugging into a smirk, mischief dancing in her purple eyes. 

With a second surge of courage, abandoning any fear and worry that lingers in her head, Allys leans forward, connecting their lips together. 

Kissing Daenerys is like taking a bite from the sweetest fruit. Euphoria rushes through her veins, her head growing lighter with each second. Her lips are soft and warm and oh so inviting to Allys. And if kissing Daenerys is like eating from the sweetest fruit, then her lips taste like nectar from the gods themselves. And Allys get pulled under, deeper and deeper into the ocean, not fearing that she doesn’t have the faintest idea on how to swim. 

And it's soft, gods it’s so soft Allys melts into her, getting as close as possible.

Daenerys weaves one arm around Allys and her other hand into the tangled mess her hair is, and begins gently untangling it. Allys puts one hand around Daenerys’ neck, as if she’s afraid she’ll disappear, trailing the other one from her waist up her side, then her collarbone, and finally up her neck, with a touch lighter than a feather. 

It’s pure bliss in that moment and in her haze Allys decided she must be dead. She must’ve died at some point and her heaven is every moment spent with Daeenerys. 

“Would you care to join me tonight, Lady Allys? I’m afraid I’m not used to the cold of Westeros and would welcome the company?” Daenerys is only a hair away from her, but even that feels too far. Too far gone in her euphoria, Allys forgets all about her pride, chasing Dany’s lips as she groans at the loss of contact. Daenerys allows her to kiss her again, laughing against her lips as Allys’ mouth swallows the noise. 

“Do you even have to ask?” Allys asks, still keeping their lips pressed together. “We should go now, while I’m still thinking semi clearly,” Allys mutters, but makes no movement to untangle herself from Daenerys. 

“Then let us make haste before we die from the cold!” Daenerys exclaims, pecking the corner of Allys’ lips before pulling her towards the entrance to Dragonstone. Allys laughs, the sound so foreign to her own ears, the sound nothing like the grief stricken tones she spoke with. They both nearly tumble to the ground far more times than either could keep track of, laughing louder and harder with each fumble. Neither of them seem to notice the sleeping people in the rooms they pass. They’re too drunk on each other to possibly care, only focused on the other. 

‘Perhaps we should be more quiet?” Allys suggests in between her laughter, small giggles bursting in the seams of her question. 

“It would be respectful of us, but I’m too happy to care!” Daenerys exclaims. And her eyes are bright, like two stars plucked from the sky and painted purple. It would be easier to liken her eyes to amethysts, but they wouldn’t do justice to their vibrancy.

And she’s beautiful when she’s like this, so carefree and glowing like the moon.

Eventually they reach the end of the hall, standing before two double doors. Back to the door, Daenerys leans forward, pressing a faint kiss against Allys, fumbling as she opens the door behind her. It clicks open and she presses her body against it to push it wide open, the loud creaking swallowed by their laughter. Daenerys pulls Allys into the room, the lock clicking close behind them. 

Maybe the dragons coming back to Westeros isn’t such a bad thing. 

                                                    o0o0o0o

Tags: 

@historicallydysfunctional​ | @stuckupstucky​

[98prilla]

Comfort

I’m still tagging you in this @coquettishcass because it’s still a continuation of my ideas based on your art, and I know you’re here for the feels :) 

Another little story about some sides having issues and helping each other out, this one starring Deceit and Patton, cameo courtesy of Remus.

He’s tired. He's emptily, exhaustedly tired. He's burrowed under all his blankets, his heating pad, and he still isn’t warm. He’s never warm. He is tired, so tired, but he can't sleep, won't sleep.

He shivers, curling tighter under the covers, not even his head poking out from under them, and wonders about the chances of accidently smothering himself.

Wouldn’t that be ironic? After everyone has made clear how much he isn’t wanted, if he were to accidentally off himself, and solve their problem for them.

He can hear his stomach rumbling, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t have the energy to find food. That would require getting up, which is off the table. Moving at all, is barely achievable. Just continuing to breathe takes all his will, the goal of moving is laughable.

He can feel the loathing. It crawls up his spine and settles in his stomach. It weighs him down and burns like stinging nettles over each inch of his skin. His cheeks are burning and he feels hot, angry tears dripping down his face.

If he was better, maybe they would listen to him, like him, care about him. But he’s not going to stop doing his job just because they don’t like it, and maybe he would be willing to open up a little, if they’d ever given him a single iota of a reason to trust them.

And he will never earn their trust because they only see him as a liar, as a trickster, as a villain.

He lets out a soft sob, hugging the pillow he’d slept with closer to his chest, burying his face in it.  

God, it still smelled like Virgil, his favorite coffee, ink, paper. The pillowcase had been in the laundry when he left, it hadn’t moved with his room.

Just the thought makes him choke out another quiet sob and hold the pillow tighter. He knows that’s his fault, too, and the guilt just adds to his loathing because he misses Virgil. He misses him like one of his arms has been torn off, like his scales when they first came in, like the heat of the sun in his skin.

A quiet knock. He knows who it will be. There’s only one person who cares enough to come looking, who cares at all. He doesn’t respond. The door creaks open anyways.

“DeeDee?” he manages to make his sniffles quieter, barely shaking under the blankets now, not that Remus has ever judged him for these episodes. It’s their silent pact, the others judge enough for both of them. They just accept each other unconditionally. Once Virgil did, too. But he’s gone and hates them now and it’s his fault.

“DeeDee, can you at least eat something for me? Please?” the others wouldn’t believe that Remus is capable of being quiet or gentle or soft, but he can be, he is now, he always is when it comes to him, and for some reason it just breaks him more.  

“No.” he manages to get out through his shaky voice and hoarse throat. Even that is like climbing a mountain in its difficulty.

“Dee, please. Just try, just a little?” Remus is almost pleading, but he just shakes his head, summoning the effort for words.

“Can’t. Will just come back up.” His voice trembles. He hates that Remus is here, hates being seen like this, hates that he is this. This pathetic lump who doesn’t even have the care to move, who won’t eat, who is denying all his survival instincts when he is literally the embodiment of someone’s survival instincts.

“Dee, it’s been days. You’re going to kill yourself at this rate.” A hint of desperation tinges Remus's voice, and he laughs. Broken, shattered laughter.  

“I should. It would make things so much easier, wouldn’t it? If I just…” he chokes on the bitterness of his own words, hate, hate, hate, eating at him, tearing him apart inside, because he hurts and he deserves it.

He hears the sound of sinking out. Remus is gone. Left him, because he pushed him away. Just like Virgil. God, he never learns, does he? He truly is worthless, truly, deserves to be alone.

He hears the door again. It could be minutes, could be hours, later. No one speaks, but he hears quiet, hesitant, footsteps. Or he thinks he does, he’s gone long enough without sleep to start hallucinating.

“Deceit?” ah, hallucinating it is, because that is Patton’s voice, and he would never, has never, come to his room. Doesn’t even know where it is. “Deceit, are you… feeling ok?” he laughs again, that broken, edged with glass laugh that cuts his throat raw, sends tears streaming down his face, curling tighter into his pillow.

“That’s a laugh and a half.” His voice is rough, scraped and bruised and battered. He knows how this goes. He knows the script.  

Knows that Patton will tell him he’s wrong, Thomas doesn’t need to lie, doesn’t need Deceit, and he will be unable to defend himself because not even he can lie that well. He is anything but needed. He would have let go, let himself fade ages ago, but he promised Remus he wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t leave Remus alone like that, not after Virgil left, and it was his fault, and besides... he could wait.  

Sooner rather than later, he knows the others will come to accept Remus. He’s so much like Roman, he’s half of creativity, after all, and Virgil doesn’t hate Remus, not like Virgil hates him. Thomas is already open to discussing the more helpful of the dark topics only Remus has domain over, it won’t be long now.  

He’s happy for Remus, he truly is. Remus deserves that light, that acceptance, that warmth. Remus deserves to be heard and listened to and surrounded by their love. Remus is a star, a brilliant, burning star, and soon the others will know it too.  

Then he will be left all alone, in the dark and the cold and the quiet. That’s what he longs for, what he aches for, the emptiness that he will let fill him, let weigh down his limbs, let soak into him until he can’t move, doesn’t need to breathe, until he just... vanishes. But not until Remus is gone, and settled. Not until Remus forgets about him down here, just like everyone else, and he can go quietly and peacefully without upsetting anyone. Because even though they all hate him, he is still afraid of upsetting them.  

“Oh, kiddo...” Patton. He’s forgotten about his hallucination of Patton. He wonders idly if he’s speaking out loud or thinking in his head, he can’t quite tell the difference anymore, and he wouldn’t really care either way, except that means his grasp is slipping and he cannot, will not, fall asleep.  

“Why not, Deceit?” He chokes back the fear that floods him, that even thinking of why not brings. Why not? Oh, what hasn’t he seen, in those dreams, in the dreams that already come when he’s at his lowest, when he can’t keep himself together, that drive him deeper and deeper into his own apathy, and loathing and disconnect?  

He sees Virgil, trying to leave, wanting to leave, and instead he grabs, forces him back, locks him up, chains him, tortures him, reprograms him. The whole time he is screaming, screaming inside, screaming at himself to stop, what are you doing, just let him go, Virgil, no, please!  

He sees Remus, torn apart by some fanged, clawed, venom laced monster, and he can’t get to him in time, he can’t stop the bleeding, he doesn’t know the antivenom, if there is antivenom, and Remus is seizing in his arms, shaking violently, babbling incoherently, but his eyes are clear as they meet his, and he wants to scream or cry or make it all ok, but it’s not, because Remus is bleeding out in his arms, he is dying and he cannot fix it and Remus knows it too, forgiving him and saying a thousand loving goodbyes with his eyes-

He sees Logan, losing his mind, having enough of their small jabs and their inattention, a victim to all the feelings Logan has and is pretending don’t exist, shifting and changing and warping like a distorted mirror until nothing Logan was left, and Insanity stood in his place, wild and manic and broken, and he couldn’t put this right, couldn’t help but shift Insanity’s room to the dark side, knowing he’d be blamed, knowing they would come for him and demand answers and not believe him and he would take it all, because Logan was gone, and he had to protect them, because Insanity would tear them apart in the exact same way Logan had always built them up.  

He saw Roman, usually so proud and loud and strong and vibrant, now colored in shades of gray, every trace of emotion leaking out of him, all of his passion and strength and hope fading out as the bruised ego has had enough, can’t take it anymore, as he fades into Apathy, and the others don’t understand, don’t even notice the difference, just continue to demand ideas and inspiration and he is powerless to help Roman, because they won’t let him anywhere near him, they don’t understand!

He sees Patton, his worst enemy, his harshest critic, his greatest rival, exploding like a supernova. All the emotions are too much, too overwhelming, he’s lied to himself about the bad ones for too long, and the mindscape is torn apart by their strength and he tries to reach Patton through the supernovas exploding in the dark, he manages to take his hand, he manages to swallow Patton’s pain, he manages to hold it all inside him as it explodes, tears him apart, tears him to shreds, and it hurts, it hurts exquisitely, and he knows it will kill him, but it won’t destroy the mindscape, inside of him. It won’t destroy Patton, and that’s the important thing, because no one needs him, no one wants him, anyway, and Patton is more important, Patton is worth something, despite everything between them, he would throw himself in front of any danger to protect Patton, because that is his job, and Patton is needed, in a way he is not, will never be needed. Patton is wanted in the same way that he is not, and now he is gone.

He is shaking again. Shaking so hard his teeth are nearly chattering, because now that the images are there he can’t make them leave, he sees them in front of his eyes, whether they’re open or closed, and he wishes this figment of Patton would just leave, just leave him to his misery because it is only going to get worse from here, he is only going to fall apart more, and even an imaginary Patton witnessing this is too much to bear.  

But part of him wants Patton to stay, because if Patton leaves, then it will be one of the others, and though Patton is cruel, at least he is unintentional in his coldness. He knows Roman’s fiery vitriol will burn him, knows Logan’s cold analysis will break him, knows Virgil’s biting words will lash his skin like a thousand whips from a cat o nine tails, knows that Patton is the first of a long list of cruelties his own mind will subject him to, because his own mind recognizes that he deserves the punishment, deserves the pain, deserves to be hated and abandoned and destroyed and he desperately, desperately wants to let it all go, knows exactly how easy it would be to let go, how much time it would take, exactly where in the subconscious he will hide so no one will find, not that they’d come looking, but still, ever present, is Remus. Not yet, he has to hold on, he has to, because he won’t, won’t leave Remus, at least until Remus leaves him for better and brighter things, takes his rightful place up there, with the others.  

He feels something. Fingers, gently teasing through his hair, the only part of him peeking out from the covers. He flinches at first, and they pause, but after a moment continue, and he realizes he hears humming as well, though it is shaky, shaky as his own voice was the last time he spoke. Or remembered speaking, he can’t tell the difference anymore between thoughts and words.  

Then the thought hits him and he jerks upright, clutching the blanket to his chest, trembling as he looks at Patton, feeling shame and bile rise in his throat, because hallucinations can’t touch, have never physically touched him before, so this isn’t a figment, this is actually Patton, he just said all that to the actual Patton.  

And now... well, now he knows. Now Patton knows every one of his weaknesses, every one of his fears, every one of his regrets and mistakes and they will be used against him and laughed at later as Patton tells the others what a hopeless, stupid fool Deceit is, as if he had any more to lose, when it came to them, as if they could resent him and antagonize him more if they tried.  

He closes his eyes and pulls his knees to his chest, still hugging his pillow around his middle, burying his face back in it, where he can pretend this isn’t happening, pretend that Patton hasn’t somehow ended up in his room, pretend that he’s nothing and no one and doesn’t exist because if he did the shame would be eating him alive right now as he cries into a pillow that still smells of his lost best friend.  

Pathetic, and weak, and useless, and stupid, and a waste, a waste of time, of space, of words, of energy.  

“Oh... oh honey, no.” The gentleness in Patton’s voice makes him flinch, so different than what he is accustomed to, it throws him off guard. At least with the vitriol he knew what to expect, could brace himself, he doesn’t know what this kindness means or is leading towards.  

He feels arms around him. Patton’s arms. Hugging him. And God it is heaven. It is warm, so comfortingly warm, the world seems muted, his mind too stunned to think, too cozy and warm and trying to process touch, being touched, he is being touched, and it is nice and he isn’t cold.

Then he practically falls into Patton’s lap, still curled tight, still holding the pillow tight, face now pressing against Patton’s cardigan, his scent of warm, clean laundry and chocolate chip cookies, he is soft and warm, and Patton’s arms are around him, holding him, rocking him, murmuring soft, kind, loving, words, and he’s shocked at every single one of them, because Patton isn’t lying, Patton believes what he’s saying.  

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that. Patton’s shirt is nearly soaked with his tears. Patton is rubbing circles on his back, and it feels so damn good, he can’t find it in him to pull away, as much as his reputation demands it. He figures his reputation is screwed after this anyway.  

“How... how did you get in here?” He manages to croak out. He feels Patton let out a soft laugh.  

“We were in the living room and Remus just kinda popped up out of nowhere and grabbed me. He didn’t say much, but he was worried and more serious than I’ve ever seen him, so I just kinda went with it. I... I'm sorry, Deceit. I’m sorry, that we made you feel this way. I’m sorry we made you feel like you couldn’t tell us you were feeling this way. I’m sorry we haven’t... I haven’t, been treating you right. I will do better. I will make sure everyone does better.” He’s crying again, because Patton isn’t lying, Patton means it, and once Patton sets his heart on something it is near impossible to stop him. He feels Patton’s arms tighten, holding him closer, and he somehow melts even more into the touch, when had he ever been held like this? He thinks he might die, if Patton lets go of him.

“Deceit... how long?” He shrugs.  

“This episode? Nearly a week. Usually... usually it doesn’t hit this hard. Last month it was only three. I... every month. At least one... one episode a month. Since... God, since forever.” He mumbles, sniffling, feeling Patton’s sharp inhale.  

“Baby, baby, baby, no. Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want you to fade, I don’t want you to disappear. Please... please if you ever think you’re about to do that, please talk to someone first. It doesn’t have to be me, if you’re not comfortable with that, just someone. Because we would fall apart without you, sweetie, we really, really would.” He’s sobbing again, he can’t seem to stop sobbing, every time he thinks he’s cried himself out, Patton says something else kind or sweet and means it, and he doesn’t know how to handle that, doesn’t know what to do with the care being directed his way, because no one besides Remus cares, and he doesn’t show care like this, like Patton does.

He feels Patton start to pull away. The air is cold, jarringly cold, and he finds himself shivering, his skin burning where Patton had been touching it. He can feel Patton looking at him, frowning at him, and he wonders what he did wrong, this time.  

“Nothing, honey. I’m just trying to decide what we should do first. I... Deceit, when was the last time you were hugged?” His face burns, even though he knows the question isn’t intended to shame him.  

“Not... not since Virgil... left. Before then only to help him, when he was having an attack... afterwards, to help soothe him. Barely ever.” Patton makes an injured noise in the back of his throat.  

“ok. Ok. That’s... I think... I think you’re touch starved, Deceit. And almost actually starving by now. And sleep deprived. So, which of those problems do you wanna tackle first?” He doesn’t know. He can’t think straight. He doesn’t want to sleep, he hates the idea of it right now, but he won’t be any kind of coherent for much longer, and he knows it.  He voices as much.

“That’s ok. We can tackle two of them at once then, if you don’t mind.” He looks at Patton with confusion.  

“Mind?”  

“Cuddling. The best way to help with touch starvation is to experience touch, and the best way to do that is to cuddle! It might... it might help with the nightmares, too. Help you feel safer. And if you wake up from one, I’ll be right here.” The thought of sleep still terrifies him, but he feels a little better about it, if Patton is going to stay.  

“...ok. will... will you be ok? In here?” Patton thinks for a moment, tilting his head and pursing his lips.  

“Not with as long as you’ll be sleeping. Can we get you settled on the couch?” His face pales at that thought, because what if the others come in, he can’t handle Roman waving his sword, or Virgil’s sneer, or Logan’s coldness. “down here, Dee. As long as I’m not in someone’s room, I’ll be fine. I know you don’t wanna move. Can I sink us there?” He lets out a breath of relief, nodding. He would, but he doesn’t have the energy.  

They land right on top of the couch, perfect aim. Immediately Patton busies himself, pulling out the futon and gathering blankets, tucking them in, humming as he quickly gets everything settled. He’s already under them, Patton having worked around him, and he feels himself slipping. He’s shaking again, as he lays down, then he feels Patton settle in behind him, curling around him like a cat around her kitten, swallowing him in warmth and heat and soft, and he rolls over to once again bury his face against Patton’s cardigan as he curls tight against him.  

Patton is stroking his hair, rubbing his back, humming softly. He feels Patton rest his head atop his own, feels him gently kiss his unruly, curly hair, usually hidden beneath his hat, and the sensation sends tingles of warmth radiating through him. It takes his breath away, it fills something inside of him that he didn’t know was empty, it radiates peace and comfort and nearly overwhelming love that burns him in a good way.

He’s barely awake when he hears Remus. He can’t bother himself to open his eyes, but he hears Patton reassuring his little slimeball that he’s going to be ok, that Patton is going to make sure it never gets this bad again, and if it does, Remus has full permission to drag him away no matter what he is doing to help. Tentatively, Remus asks something, and Patton’s voice is smiling as he affirms.  

Then he feels warmth on his other side, feels more arms wrapping around him, hears Remus whispering apologies and mild death threats, and his own version of words of comfort and kindness, which he has long ago learned to understand.  

He is crying again as he finally, finally lets himself fall asleep. But these tears are happy. Because he feels the warmth emanating through him, he is sandwiched between two people who somehow, somehow, love him. He isn’t afraid, this time, as he feels oblivion weighing him down, and he knows, knows, that nightmares won’t dare to touch him this time, not with so much love surrounding him. Not with the promise of more warmth to come. Not when he actually, for the first time in forever, knows he has something to live for.

[ask-fantasy-sanders-sides]

I keep remembering snippets of stuff Virgil can do, like the super-sensitive touch and hearing, and its so interesting to me! Can we get a lesson on drow biology? Just, all the physical differences between Virgil and your average human

Alright then, Drow Biology 101:

Sleep

Drow can either sleep, OR go into one of two trance states. These states will rejuvenates you like sleep does in most respects, but they will not heal exhaustion (only full sleep can do that)

The standard Trance, as you have seen Logan use, allows you to remain mostly alert with open eyes and ears. You look like you’re just meditating, but you are in a state halfway between awake and asleep. You still dream in this state, with what you see/hear/experience in the dream melding into what you see/hear/experience out in the waking world, as if you were hallucinating things. Some elves will “practice” in trance-ing, making themselves able to tell the difference between the dream elements and real elements.

In a Reverie, you get all of the benefits of a trance state but your body is not locked in place, and you may move about and use all of your skills and abilities as you please! Only Drow can experience a Reverie.

In any of these states, Drow are not capable of having “dreams” in the same way we can: they relive scenes from their memories. (Non-Drow elves can also access the memories of their previous lives)

Heat-Sensitivity

Drow are sensitive to heat! They can naturally see heat signatures as different colors (from coldest to hottest: black, grey, blue, purple, red, warm yellow, and bright yellow). Less easily, they can also feel heat signatures within a certain range of their bodies. The Drow couldn't discern the meaning of the various patterns since birth, but the training to hone and read this sense wover time was common, especially for soldiers.

Drow specifically trained for stealth (which of course includes Virgil) can alter their own body temperature to some degree, to blend in with the heat patterns of their surroundings, much like hiding in the shadows.

Sight

Drow have darkvision up to 120 feet around them (twice the range of most creatures that can see in the dark), but cannot see color in darkness -- only shades of grey, and the heat signature colors described above. The color of objects is only discernible in low-or-brighter light, which means many Drow can go their whole lives without seeing color the way humans do. 

Hearing

Drow had excellent hearing, a trait developed by necessity. In the Underdark, the sense of hearing was paramount in foreseeing rock shifts, collapses, the movement of prey and predators, and other hazards. Most Drow can hear over 3x the max hearing range of a human!

Smell

Drow had a human-like sense of smell, far less keen than their other senses. Smells were dulled in the Underdark: everything is damp and muggy, and kinda smells the same.

Stone Sense

Drow, like many races that live and thrive underground, have a intimate connection with earth and stone. Most Drow... 

Have an intuitive understanding of how fortifications or waterworks were constructed, and how to circumvent and control them

Are generally capable of identifying any metal, gem, or rock they come across, including intuitive knowledge about the direction, richness, and dimensions of the vein it came from

Could recognize who an item was crafted by and what it was crafted with by holding it, especially when identifying drowcraft items

Could feel tremors of something heavy hitting the ground, or a creature burrowing within it, even feeling such vibrations travelling up through the roots, trunk, and then branch of a tree they were standing on. (Not to the extent of other burrowing creatures in the underground, but a lot better than a human)

Touch

Drow had long, slender fingers and a keen tactile sense, to the point of being able to read subtle markings on stone as if they were braille. This was the most common form of writing between Drow (higher-ranking Drow could learn to write with ink and send letters in the common tongue, for trade and business partnerships)

This hypersensitive sense of touch also allowed them to recognize the skin of someone they had touched before, even more easily then a human would recognize a face they’d seen.

Mimicry

The whole drow race had a natural aptitude for audible mimicry. They could rather easily mimic the sound and tone of a different person in a believable manner, especially when often exposed to the language that they had to replicate. (Virgil is not good at this, not even a little bit)

They were also particularly adept at mimicking animal/monster calls, even those they had only heard once before. (Virgil is very good at this)

Appearance/Voice

The drow are a deeply Fae, innately magical species. Over several generations, they have honed their natural magic-enhanced alluring qualities! (And they tend to cull those who don’t fit their beauty standards in the Underdark, so... it’s a nasty process)

The average Drow in the underdark are generally considered to be very, very beautiful by surface-folk, and each individual drow goes to great lengths to enhance their personal beauty. Even if a Drow suitor is acting generally hostile or unlikable in personality, they naturally exude a charm-like magic that enthralls others to admire and pursue them.  

From this same innate ‘thrall’ effect, the drow had an appreciation for bardic magic, as well as a natural talent for it. Though the skill isn’t often honed to the point of becoming an individual’s class, a Drow’s song was particularly alluring, especially to humans and other elves. It was often used to sooth a potential victim and lure them to their deaths, or to lull children to sleep.

[arts-n-anarchy]

Yo any chance we can get some DestructiveDeath in here?

For some reason I decided to combine these two! Seemed like a fun idea.

This is based off of the Killing Kind comic made by TheGrinningKitten, it’s seriously amazing.

I wrote a lot more than I planned, so have fun with this mess!

Word count: 876

Warnings: Angst, a lot of angst sprinkled in this

Reaper had never been normal, especially since his job was to reap souls for eternity. But he never noticed that he was seeing his world entirely in grayscale.It didn’t affect him very much, since it didn’t get in the way of his job. But, when Ink figured it out one day, it didn’t shake him too much. At first.

“I’ve heard people have different soul types. Is it hard to tell them apart?” “Yeah, souls don’t really have that much color for me. They all look like different shades of grey.”

“Wow.” 

Ink put a hand to his chin. He didn’t know how this had happened, only that Reaper was born with it. Since he was eager to find an answer, he thought of suggesting things he had heard from the creators. He scanned his scarf for several minutes before finding a scrap of information.

“There are people who don’t see in color until they meet their soulmate,” Ink said, glancing up at Reaper.

“I didn’t even know that was a thing.” 

Reaper placed his arm on the top of the blade of his scythe. He stayed silent for several seconds before his smile wilted. 

“But... what about Geno? Then it doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe you haven’t found your soulmate yet,” Ink replied inquisitively. Reaper’s head drooped, his hood covering his face. The only thing that was visible was his trembling mouth. 

That’s not possible. He’s lying. Right?

Before Ink could respond, Reaper had stepped into a portal, vanishing from sight.

—

Several weeks later Geno disappeared.

Reaper had searched everywhere for him while staying out of sight. He didn’t want to interfere with the AUs. Despite countless hours of roaming universes, he found nothing.

For the next few days he was scrambling the multiverse during the day, and hiding away in his room during the night.

During the nights he didn’t sleep a wink. His mind drifted off to a fantasy world, while he stayed trapped. He would rather be anywhere else than the prison of his house, which he couldn’t even call a home.

When Reaper peeked inside Geno’s room, he noticed a beaker of liquid on the corner of Geno’s desk. He picked it up and swirled it.

There were only a few drops of the mysterious solution left. It was a dark grey, but it emanated a slight glow. It was only moments after that he discovered several bottles of the same solution stashed in a drawer.

Why was this kept a secret? How did he not see this before?

He sighed before setting down the beaker. When he left the room, the liquid had stained the area it had roamed.

—

Reaper no longer felt the pang of souls shattering. But one day, several souls shattered. Then another few. Then double the amount.

He sat in denial for hours until he couldn’t get it out of his head. What could cause such a mass genocide? 

Still, he entered the world where the signal originated. It was in the center of an urban town, with shops and buildings disheveled. Between the buildings shone the light of several blasters firing.

When he reappeared to the center of the town, he felt the sharp tug of a soul. When he looked ahead of him, he met the source of the chaos. But not before a sharp flash of white blinded him.

After a few seconds, Reaper was able to regain his vision. Ahead of him was a black skeleton that donned a blue scarf, a black jacket and a red shirt. At least, that’s what he thought the colors were. His eyes shone a bright blue, with one of them having a yellow rim. Blue strings from his eye sockets gripped Undertale Sans’s soul, which was partially torn.

Reaper grabbed his scythe and teleported out of the area. He re-appeared behind the skeleton, swishing it with a flick of his hand toward the strings.The strings released Sans’s soul as they fluttered to the ground. The black skeleton scowled, scanning the area.

In the blink of an eye, Reaper stepped in front of the skeleton and drove his scythe into their chest. The skeleton grimaced, a giant red scar forming onto the wound almost instantly. He stepped back and eyed the scar like he was reminded of a bad memory.

The soul of the skeleton appeared against their chest, shriveled and drastically shrunken. The sight hit Reaper like a truck. The skeleton that stood in front of him was one he knew all too well.

Or so he thought.

A hand covered the soul, the skeleton’s eye-sockets flashing error signs. Reaper reached out his arm, longing for a single moment with him. A glitchy portal appeared behind them, taking the skeleton away from the AU and out of sight.

Reaper’s hand flopped to his side like a rag doll. When something shifted, he lifted up his sleeve to reveal a red scarf. 

The scarf held the same rips and wrinkles as before. Even so, the scarf seemed unfamiliar to him, like a distant memory of the person he once knew.