#their outfits are so much more simpler which is so nice after drawing so so so so muuucch xeno man

[kozachenko]

Here's a digital sketch dump of some pose/anatomy practices and some 2hu doodles, I think from now on if I don't have any big final piece to post, I'll just post sketches I liked that I did digitally (might also reblog some drawings of mine that I want more people to see, maybe idk).

Artist's Notes:

Ok so after the recent Hifuu fanart I did, I've been hoping to experiment more with how I draw faces, how I render, as well as how I stylize things. In some of the earlier sketches I did, I had an idea for a pose that I wanted to try drawing, so I took a ref pic of myself doing said pose (the leaning one btw) and then did a sketch over top of it just to get an idea for the shapes, negative space, and silhouette. After that, I wanted to do some simpler breakdowns of the shapes so I can get better at simplifying the body (these ended up being the bottom right sketches in the post). I also did some experimenting with how to push certain parts of said sketches to create a different body type (via liquify and then a more refined version based on that sketch), as well as figuring out what makes a pose feel natural and not stiff. This was also a bit of a foreshortening practice just so I can get more confident with it, and I ended up using the arms from the liquified version for the coloured Zanmu sketch I did since I liked them so much (dw I'll get to that).

The next thing I wanted to try and draw was Hisami, mainly because.... I am very bad at drawing her in my style. Last time I drew her I made her look really creepy and spindly, and it is my headcanon now that she can switch between a more human, and more creepy look whenever she wants. I'm liking where the face is going a lot, might have to refine a few things about it in the future, but it's cute (I also made the blush purple which I think is what I'm gonna do with her face from now on). I also like how her hair in the sketch turned out a lot, but the outfit..... not as much... Ever since I started changing my style to something less cartoony, I've had a hard time drawing her outfit in my style. Especially the flower veil thing she has on, which, I did try to find a way to draw, but I ended up deleting that sketch because I didn't like it. I'm also not a fan of using the colour purple, like, pure purple, magentas are fine, indigos are fine, but not strict purple. I also have a hard time with drawing all the little pattern details on her dress. I also need to find a way to draw the flower veil in a way that looks good because everytime I try it ends up just looking off (very similar to whenever I try to draw Zanmu's blue spears). I think the only solution to this problem is to do what I normally do and make my own version of the outfit, but with adjustments to suit my style while still trying to keep core elements from the original design intact (like I do with Zanmu and Keiki, and yes I am going to get to that Zanmu drawing just gimme a minute).

Ok next up is Keiki, my favourite Touhou character who I haven't drawn since the beginning of the year. Since my style has changed a lot, I wanted to just do a face sketch of her to get a hang of drawing her again, and I..... really really like how it turned out! When I drew her eyes, I realized that a good way of keeping faces too same facey can be via varying the sizes of their pupils, so that's an idea I'm gonna keep in mind from now on. I had a lot of fun with her hair, I initially was gonna do it like how it is in the official art, but I ended up not liking it, so now I'm gonna draw Keiki with wavy heir like this because it's fun and it looks nice. I also included my base sketch for Keiki's face since I was initially struggling with drawing her bandanna, and in the coloured sketch I added some more detail into her hair.

Now to finally talk about the sketches for Zanmu. Good lord was I having a tough time with her face. I also did this sketch before I figured out how I wanted to draw hair, so that's why the rendering on her hair is different (I did this soon after the Hisami sketch actually). Since I changed my art style a lot, I had to find a way to translate her face from my more cartoony style to my more detailed style, so while the face shape, nose shape and mouth was fine, I was really struggling with the eyes. I did get somewhere eventually though, and I am super happy with how it turned out. I wanted to lean more towards the androgynous side of the gender presentation spectrum, mainly because I think that makes sense for her character. Also made sure to include the silver hairs and some wrinkles just to bring some signs of her aging into her face because those are just staple features of how I draw Zanmu at this point lol. You will also notice that I gave her some scars on the right side of her face, and that's because I am a Zanmu-with-scars truther, I fucking love it whenever I see someone give Zanmu visible scars like that it just adds so much omg (I also tried to put a wolf bite mark on her arm in the full body drawing but idk if it reads well). While you can argue that her not having scars sells the idea of her being this "powerful, untouchable mastermind who is impossible to defeat," I'd say that instead of those scars representing times she got injured, they represent everyone who has failed to defeat her.

As I was drawing Zanmu's face, I referenced my sketch of to help with contrasting their features since I made Keiki's face more traditionally feminine. I also didn't mention this in my commentary on Keiki's face because I wanted to save it for here, but giving Zanmu scars also plays into the fact that she used to be human, wheras Keiki doesn't have any scars because she's a god who doesn't follow the rules of normal human biology. Plus I'm thinking about the two of them interacting again (return of Zan/Keik??? (I'm a multishipper btw) maybe???) so drawing their faces together will definitely help me in the future if I wanna draw them together (again, maybe as a ship? I've kinda been ironing out the kinks in their potential interactions (romantic and non-romantic) for a while now so idk maybe expect that in the future lol).

And now for the full body drawing, when I was doing the face sketch I did this little snippet of an outfit, had a vision, and the made it into a reality. I'll admit, part of me was worried that it would end up looking too much like Yuugi's outfits in the spinoffs and mangas, but I feel like I made enough changes to differentiate them. I tried to keep a few of the major details in Zanmu's design (i.e. the red tassles and yellow lining on her shirt) while putting a new spin on it. I also dialed up the scars to 11 since without them the whole thing kinda looked incomplete. Also, while I could say that the leaves on her kimono are "a nod to the fact that technically she should be a tengu because back then people belived that corrupt monks would turn into tengu but no Zanmu is an oni and they're maple leaves because...tengu...ahahahaha" what really ended up happening was that I looked up clothing patterns from Sengoku era Japan, liked the leaves the most because the red picked up on the red from the rest of her design and just ran with it. I also always had the idea to put Zanmu in men's clothing from Sengoku era Japan and while the accurate thing to do would be to put her in a Buddhist's clothes from that era.... from a character standpoint, I don't think Zanmu is pious enough to strictly wear the proper monk uniform, and also since she's basically the king of Hell, she would probably dress herself like royalty from that era. TBH, I probably could've been a bit more historically accurate, but again, this was mainly for conceptual purposes because I had a vision and I needed to see it through.

If I were to draw her in this sort of outfit again, I should probably try and use more references, although now that I look at it, if she were to wear it properly this would maybe, probably look a bit closer to a Kyūtai sugata (a very huge stretch, but it just kinda reminds me of that) just without the layers under and over the main piece of clothing (In the website that I searched up to try and compare the outfit in my sketch to, they name the outfit pieces but don't label them on the image, so I don't know 100% what everything is called) so I will definitely have to use that style of clothing as a reference going forward.

Also, I was kind of inspired by the ToTK design for Ganondorf since I have finished the game a while ago and I absolutely love what they did with his design (it's just so fucking cool omg) and I thought that sort of look would look good on Zanmu, so yeah got some inspo from that.

And those were all the notes for each of the sketches, I'm motivated to draw rn but kinda art blocked, so doing these little coloured sketches helps a lot.

[lordisitmine]

TTNBD BLOG PART FOUR

Covers chapters 4 and 4.5 of the story.

This is the chapter that gave me the idea to do these commentary blogs in the first place! This is also the longest chapter so far (*distant laughter from the future*)- I originally intended to try and keep each chapter of this story around seven thousand words, so they would all be nice and even, but alas, I’m just too verbose for such consistency. The story has to split the right way, and so that inevitably means that some updates will be longer than others. One of the later chapters I have planned might very well end up being twice as long as this one (*laughs again*), so I’ll really have no place to hide at that point. So, without further adieu, let’s get to it!

CHAPTER FOUR: AT THE TURNING OF THE YEAR

The title of this chapter isn’t directly inspired by anything- there is a folk song with that name, but I hadn’t heard of it until way after I already came up with the title for this chapter. It’s kind of a neat song though, so I’ll link it here- it’s about the changing of the seasons and the nature of mortality, and the kinds of things people think about and sing about at new year’s.

This chapter starts with one of my favourite scenes that I’ve written for this story so far. I think it’s probably my own personality showing through again, but the idea of having a woman dress up for me is like O_o and picking out her clothes for her!? Please. Anyway, Sybil is not being subtle… Lizzy is just really oblivious, though maybe not so shy anymore, based on the way the chapter ends. Don’t worry, don’t worry, we’ll get there.

I know Lizzy’s colour is pink; her outfits in the anime are all based on Lolita fashion, and they’re all in very typical feminine colours. Since she’s grown up now, I wanted her style to reflect that, as well as the changing of the times. And I just think blondes look so good in green. It’s my favourite colour, and it’s the colour of her eyes, so it would make them pop. I have at least one more party scene in this story, though, and she’ll be back in pink and frills for that one. I just wanted to give her a simpler, more classic silhouette for this one, which is what I think Sybil would have picked for her, with the ridiculously large sleeves that were so emblematic of the time.

And a Gibson girl hairstyle! This was a popular hairstyle of the time, albeit a little later, more into the 1910s (Edwardian rather than Victorian). But like I’ve said, I can and will fudge the numbers a little when it comes to historical accuracy, if I think I can get away with it and if I really want to be self-indulgent. This is fanfiction, after all. The hairstyle I described was not the one I ended up drawing. There are some variations when it comes to what constitutes a Gibson girl hairstyle, and of course, it would depend on a given woman’s hair length/texture etc. What I described was simpler, more like the picture on the left, but what I ended up drawing was more like the one on the right, which is so beautiful, and I’m obsessed with how the drawing turned out.

As for Sybil, who I imagine to be more on the masculine end of the fashion spectrum- I wanted her to have a Marlene Dietrich moment (for those unaware, Marlene Dietrich was a singer/actress who was very popular in the WWII era and was known for her bending of gender roles and her queerness). Once again, I’m being anachronistic- Marlene Dietrich and her iconic menswear wouldn’t be a thing until decades later, but I can pretty much guarantee that lesbians have been wearing tuxedos for as long as tuxedos have existed.

Madame LaChance’s shop is called Chanceux en Amour. That’s French for ‘lucky in love’ and since Madame’s name is literally ‘lady luck’, I thought it fit. Women have been seamstresses, both domestically and commercially, for centuries, but for a long time, they did all the labour and reaped none of the benefits. So yeah, this is a women-owned business, baby! We love to see it.

As we know by now, Madame is not only a friend of Sybil and Simeon’s but is connected to Ciel and Sebastian as well. I like to think she treats those boys a little like dolls, like if she comes up with some insane design she wants to try, she’ll test it on them. I swear to God I must have been a fashion/costume designer in another life because I’m obsessed with describing/drawing outfits for my characters in everything always.

I am so incredibly proud of these ones. Ciel and Sebastian are known by their employees and patrons only as the Raven and the Phoenix (I referred in TTEOE to Ciel being like a phoenix and it stuck oops) and I wanted them to have stupid, extravagant outfits to reflect that.

Anyway, yes, Sebastian is wearing thigh-high boots, and yes, you bet they’re the stiletto heels he wears whenever he’s in his true form and we only see his feet! Ciel is in heels too, lol, he would have to be to keep up with Sebastian at all.

I am in love with the idea of the two of them creating this whole mysterious persona around themselves, and I’m a sucker for a masquerade. Ciel’s outfit (the sleeves in particular) was inspired by Shakespearean costumes- I’m a big fan of theatre and Shakespeare and I love when characters in stories have an element of mystery and performance to them. Ciel is nobility, so he’s used to garnering a certain level of attention and respect from the people around him, and I don’t think that would change now that he’s a demon but I also think he would like the element of anonymity that a mask gives him.

I’m a BIG fan of the 2004 Joel Schumacher Phantom of the Opera film (if you couldn’t tell by the way I described the theatre in this chapter, or the outfits I have everyone in). If you’re trying to imagine anything in this chapter, it’s all pretty much lifted directly from the aesthetic of that movie. And I was also listening to the 2013 Baz Luhrman Great Gatsby movie soundtrack when I was writing it too. Yeah yeah, it’s the 1900s not the 1920s but I have to get in the old-timey party mood somehow, and that soundtrack was hugely popular/ I had it on my iPod when I was a teenager and at the height of my Black Butler obsession so. They’re somehow kind of linked in my mind.

Le Cour de Corbeau literally translates to ‘the raven’s heart’ and what is Ciel if not Sebastian’s heart? I’m thinking of writing a one-shot spin-off once TTNBD is done that goes back and explores exactly how Sebastian and Ciel met Madame and ended up owning an entire nightclub. I don’t have the exact timeline of events planned out but I imagine it involved some sort of demonic shenanigans so it should be fun to come up with something.

The club is located in the Montmartre area of Paris, which was one of the main gathering areas of the queer community in Paris in the early twentieth century. Paris in general has been home to many underground gay clubs, salons, cafés and cabarets throughout history. Even to this day, it’s considered one of the queer capitals of the world. I knew I had to pay homage to the queer community in my fic, knowing Ciel and Sebastian were going to be living in Paris.

In chapter nine of To the End of Everything, I wrote a scene where the two of them snuck off from a ball to be together, and they danced in a quiet, dark room, and Ciel had a thought of some day being able to do it in the open. I was thinking of that when I decided to set a chapter in this club.

The scene with Lizzy and Sybil in the carriage on the way to the club was really tricky to write- it’s difficult to write a sort of coming out scene without being able to use any of the modern terminology we use now. I’m of the opinion that homosexuality was talked about in common society a lot more than the history books would have us believe. Humans have been having sex longer than we’ve been doing pretty much anything else, and that must count for something.

Lizzy and Sybil get to dance in this chapter! I spent a long time trying to find the right song for them, and I settled on Serenade for strings in C major my Pyotor Illyich Tchaikovsky. Tchaikozvky’s waltzes have this grandness to them, and they always make me feel like I’m being floated around on a cloud of air, which is how I wanted Lizzy to feel during this scene. I believe I’ve said this before, but music is very important to me and it inspires me greatly, and so I’m always finding ways to subtly work it into my writing.

Speaking of music- let’s talk about the scene with Madame’s performance- one of my favourite Sebaciel tropes is them having sex in semi-public places, during parties or in Ciel’s office or anywhere they might be discovered at any second so Ciel has to try to be quiet while Sebastian will try to make him get loud on purpose. There’s just something so utterly them about it. Also Sebastian leaving his gloves on. Enough said.

The song Madame is singing during this scene is from Mozart’s famous opera Don Giovanni, called Vedrai, Carino- specifically the aria from that scene. In that scene, one of the characters, Masetto, has been beaten up, and his fiancée, Zerlina, finds him and promises she can cure his wounds… with sex. It’s all cheeky double entendre and it’s very romantic and cute.

Here are the lyrics:

Come, come; if that's the worst, there's no great harm done.

Come with me home to supper,

And give your faithful promise, you'll nevermore be jealous;

Those bruises can be cured, where love is zealous.

Come, shall I tell thee,

How what befell thee,

Soon can be cured

By my potent charm?

No garden grows it,

Though it aboundeth,

Like furnace glows it,

Yet none 'twill harm,

All guard and cherish it:

Gold cannot buy it,

Say, wilt thou try it

Soft 'tis, and warm.

Has thy wit flown,

Hear, how it throbs within,

lays his hand on her heart

'Tis all thine own,

Ah, 'tis thine only

The melody is cheerful but lilting, and it builds and builds with a sort of heartbeat rhythm toward the end… I just thought it was perfect for this scene.

Sybil and Madame’s conversation was interesting to write. I realised part way through that I was writing an exchange with only original characters in it. I wasn’t sure how many people would really want to read a story with so much original character content, but the response to this story and especially the characters I’ve created has been wonderful and really touching. Being a writer is the most important thing in the world to me- someday I hope to have my own novels out in the world, so even a little bit of positive attention for the more original aspects of my fanfiction is a big encouragement.

Anyway, onto the next section of commentary, which is the scene between Alois and Claude.

I want to be clear- being a victim of sexual assault or child sexual abuse does not automatically turn you into the kind of person Alois is. It is completely possible for CSA victims to have normal, healthy relationships as adults. Alois, of course, was never in a safe enough space or had the necessary support system to heal from the trauma he endured. Instead, he ended up internalizing the abuse he experienced and convinced himself he was in control of it, that he was the one manipulating and using the old man, and that has led to him having a skewed perception of himself and his own sexuality, as well as an unhealthy relationship with sex in general.

The human mind will convince itself of all sorts of things in the pursuit of survival. People will cope however they can. There is no wrong way to survive. In Alois’s case, he sold his soul to a demon. Clearly, he has much different motivations and boundaries than a regular real-life person- and often in fiction, an unhealthy mind is much more interesting to write and read about, especially when there’s things like demons involved.

From the beginning of planning this story, I wanted Claude and Alois to have a super messy dynamic. I see Alois and Claude as a narrative foil to Ciel and Sebastian- the same dynamic, a young aristocrat and his demon butler, but taken to the opposite extreme conclusion. The same devotion, obsession, even attraction, but inverted- reluctant, resentful, but no less intense and inescapable. Where Sebastian is loyal, Claude is treacherous, but he is no less drawn to Alois, if only because of the contract between them.

Alois and Claude’s dynamic as I write it is this: Alois may be the master, and he may think he is in control, but he will always get more than he bargains for when it comes to Claude. Of course, I’m writing this commentary months after this chapter came out, and I’ve pushed that dynamic even further in subsequent chapters.

As to how it will end between them- well, you’ll have to wait and see.

On to the climatic title moment of the chapter, the countdown to the new year and the new century: I was just a little kid in 1999, so my memories are vague. I remember some stuff about the Y2K scare (for those of you younger than I am who don’t know what I’m talking about, you can google it, I’m not going off on a tangent here 😆. Anyway, I imagine the coming of a new century must be really exciting, more so than any other new year celebration, because it’s far rarer.

And of course, what better moment to kiss a girl you like for the first time than at such a classic, traditional moment? There’s something so gripping about the turning of the year, that moment when it feels like everything is about to change even though it really isn’t. It gives that same sort of exhilarating feeling as kissing someone for the first time. Kissing someone for the first time is terrifying too, but it’s also amazing.

Of course, things are about to go sideways for Lizzy, so she’s not going to get to experience any of what normally comes after such a thing, at least not for a while.

I like to imagine Ciel and Sebastian standing up on that balcony, looking down into the street over the crowds and the fireworks, and Ciel’s jaw just dropping when he sees Lizzy kissing Sybil. Lizzy?? Kissing a girl?? He’s not jealous or anything, obviously, but it must have been quite a shock for him, it’s no wonder he was staring.

CHAPTER FOUR-POINT-FIVE: INTERLUDE; AULD LANG SYNE

There are going to be a few interludes throughout this fic- they’re really just chapters on they’re own, but they’re shorter parts that feel like they need to stand on their own. Also, I like the word ‘interlude’ and wanted an excuse to feel fancy.

Auld Lang Syne is of course a quite well-known (at least in my neck of the woods) Scottish folk song that people typically sing at New Year’s. it was originally a poem written in the Scots dialect by poet Robert Burns, written in 1788, but he said himself that he had “taken it down from an old man”. The first verse and chorus can be directly attributed to a 1711 folk song by James Watson, the rest being attributed to Burns himself. Watson’s original stanza and refrain are the most memorable of the song’s lyrics:

Should Old Acquaintance be forgot,

and never thought upon;

The flames of Love extinguished,

and fully past and gone:

Is thy sweet Heart now grown so cold,

that loving Breast of thine;

That thou canst never once reflect

On old long syne.

Chorus:

On old long syne my Jo,

On old long syne,

That thou canst never once reflect,

On old long syne.

The phrase “auld lang syne” can be translated to mean “old long since”, but in a more general sense just means “times long past”. The phrase “for auld lang syne” can me taken to mean “for the sake of old times”. The song, while generally sung at the stroke of midnight at the new year, can also be used as a general farewell- it’s about remembering the past while moving toward the future. It’s been sung at graduations, funerals, and other such events for this reason.

Thematically, it’s perfect for where we’re at in the story. “Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never thought upon” is sort of an inverse of what’s happening- Lizzy still thinks of Ciel often, and Ciel has just had his past brought back to him despite having moved on from it. “Is thy sweet love now grown so cold, that loving Breast of thine; that thou canst never once reflect on old lang syne?” Has Ciel really lost all attachment to his past- does he really care so little what happens to the people he once cared about that he can’t even be bothered to look back, or to literally go back to his old life in some sense?

Alois is hungover and yet somehow still a little horny- there’s not too much to say about it other than OOF. I always have more fun writing Claude’s inner monologue anyway (I hate him so much but it’s so fun to write him), so the scene at the breakfast table where he makes the comment about Ciel not having the butler Alois does really tickle me. I love when characters throw shade at each other without realising what they’re saying. And the fact that Alois has to go around solving crimes and blames Ciel for it despite never having met him? Delightful. What a whiny bitch he is.

Abberline is the boss man now, and he’s doing his whole strong man though guy in charge routine, but he can’t fool me. He’s just a little guy. Still, though, it’s not great that someone leaked stuff to the press- it’s almost like whoever did it wants to cause a panic and make sure that the message gets sent to someone… I wonder what it could mean?

I don’t actually know if the London news would be published in Paris so quickly. I’m probably stretching historical accuracy to its breaking point haha, but like I always remind myself, I’m the only one who cares about stuff like that, and it’s my story anyway so ultimately, I can do whatever I want!

Ciel and Sebastian would be walking down the street holding hands if it was allowed. They’re so gross and domestic in this story and I’m not even sorry. Thinking about them going to a café in the morning and sitting looking at the paper and people-watching while Ciel eats a mountain of sugary treats and Sebastian drinks his coffee- I am often inclined to think about little else. I promise that when all of this is over, they will go back to doing that. But the main plot of the story has finally caught up with them.

“Would you hate me terribly if I said I wanted to go back to London?”

“I would hate you terribly if you pretended you did not.”

One of the things Sebastian loves most about Ciel is how unapologetic he is about the things he wants. Ciel’s motives as a human were never about being good- only about serving his family’s name, which was an obligation as well as a desire, but also about revenge, about going to any extent to achieve his goals. People so often sacrifice their dreams or wants for the sake of others, or for the sake of politeness, or decency- but Ciel was never like that. In a lot of ways, Ciel is a selfish person, self-indulgent and stubborn and a lot of other things people normally don’t like. So how could a demon like Sebastian not love him?

For the record, I love Ciel also. I call him selfish and stubborn and indulgent and all of these somewhat negative things, but I mean it affectionately. He’s a pretty little bastard and I love him so much. I think he should get everything he asks for and be allowed to do whatever he wants forever. (Me 🤝 Sebastian).

Okay so. I had to kill someone. There had to be a murder to bring Ciel and Sebastian back to London. It wasn’t going to be Lizzy that dies, obviously, but who else could it have been that would have made Ciel even remotely interested? I didn’t want to kill one of Lizzy’s parents, they’re useful characters to have around. Not Abberline- he’s even more important. So, Edward was the natural choice. I don’t think Ciel liked Edward at all- Edward certainly didn’t like him- but neither do I. Or rather, I don’t really have any feelings for Edward as a character whatsoever- he’s so minor. So murdered it is. The more important part is HOW he was murdered, obviously, but the fact that the victim is someone connected to Ciel’s past is also important.

RIP Edward Midford, thanks for your sacrifice to the plot. You will not be forgotten.

I think Lizzy and Sybil would have probably gotten together that day if Edward hadn’t have died and sent Lizzy on a whole new emotional arc. So maybe actually Edward, fuck you for getting murdered and keeping your sister from getting some. And fuck me for writing it that way I guess 😅

Anyway, that’s all for now! I’m on hiatus right now, and I’m working on the outline for the final arc of the story, and also trying to catch up on these. I’m probably going to start grouping chapters together in posts. There ended up being so many more chapters in this story than I originally planned. See you again soon!

[blueaizu]

A somewhat older drawing, but one that I remember putting a ton of time into! Look closely - absolutely everything was done by hand, stroke by stroke. It's not representative of how I draw now, but I can't help but be mesmerized by the textured yet cartoony look.

== Read more commentary about this character after the break! ==

This drawing was one which was made to explore Lucida, which is and always was her legal name, as a character. Lucida is one of my oldest OCs (in terms of how long I've been drawing her, not her in-universe age). Lucida is a prodigy in magic and making potions for her family's business, but she's quite scatterbrained and naïve everywhere else. Notice the upside-down sign on the otherwise unrealistically-well-made-for-her-age wooden stand!

Lucida's design here is significantly different compared to how she is now. She's still a jovial little witch in a school uniform-like outfit, but other than that her appearance is completely different. Lucida isn't in any published stories (at least not yet), so there was a lot of freedom in how I could change her look, and change her look I did.

-

I made Lucida blue because back then she was a mascot for my pages, but the old purple color didn't make any sense for someone with "Blue" in their name. Aizu's since taken her place and he's much closer to truly representing me than Lucida ever was, but I decided to keep her blue since it lent itself nicely to a more night sky like coloration, and I felt blue was a more unique color for a witch than purple. This also lead to the incorporation of crescent moon patterns in her overall look, but these revisions came later.

I also replaced the leech-like hat with a more traditional witch hat to make the fact she's a witch more obvious. The hat was always meant to add just a bit of edge to Lucida to keep her from seeming too "girly" (I want her to have cross appeal, in other words). Lucida's original backstory did heavily involve the leech, which kept her raging magic under control but made her a little... empty-headed. I felt it was too depressing for a non-horror character and like people were just kind of put off by the leech in general, so I decided to scrap it and redesign her.

Lucida's current backstory is much simpler and more lighthearted; she's a young, well meaning witch trying to help her family's business in making and selling potions. However, Lucida has a habit of unintentionally stumbling into or causing dangerous situations both because of mixing the potions and finding the ingredients for them. This makes people feel a bit uneasy around her, but she's genuinely friendly and also very cute so they'll usually ease up.

I haven't forgotten about Lucida just because Aizu's replaced her as the face of my pages. I have some pretty big plans in mind for adventures about her, in fact, so please look forward to seeing them!

-

By the way, there's also a Japanese version of the drawing I made for Pixiv!

It's just a direct translation of the sign, "Lucy's Elixirs". Also upside-down, naturally! I didn't intentionally misspell the sign, though, so that was kind of lost in the translation. But if it's not grammatically correct I can call that a happy accident!

[lindira]

Answering more questions from this Baldur's Gate 3 Tav Ask Game!

31. How does your Tav dress for different occasions, like very fancy situations? 

Okay, so I spent WAY too long looking for reference pictures for this. Envy typically wears form-fitting clothing, and they're the type of person who rarely wears sleeves if it's warm enough. As seen in most of my screenshots, they usually like very low-cut outfits with pretty detailing like embroidery.

Before all the adventuring, Envy usually didn't have a lot of money, so they bought or sewed for themselves a few eye-catching pieces of clothing that could be mixed and matched together with simpler pieces to make a stunning outfit. They particularly like brocade or embroidered corsets and vests, and tend to have a steampunk-ish vibe. If they're not supposed to draw too much attention or it's less formal of an occasion, they might wear something like this, with a leather underbust corset and a nicely tailored simple shirt. Slightly fancier events might find Envy in a brocade corset statement piece but otherwise fairly casual clothing. Especially fancy events would have Envy switch to a more elaborate vest like this and this, with the kind of beautiful trousers and shoes that one might find at Figaro Facemaker's (maybe purchased under disguise just in case Envy's recognized from their many pranks). If feeling more femme, Envy would want to wear similar tops/corsets but with a flowy, bustled skirt.

32. How did your Tav get their scars, if they have any? 

Envy has a scar down their lips from a bar fight several years prior to the game. They tend to mouth off at people who are rude to them so they've gotten into a lot of bar fights. During this particularly bar fight, Envy got cut by a broken bottle.

Envy also has several scars all over their body from various fights throughout his years living on the streets. They also have many scars that look like they should be nastier than they are - hastily healed while still fresh - made from knives and hot pokers.

Their worst scar is a line across their throat where it was slit. They obviously survived, but essentially lost their voice as a result. (They can still talk, but in a very hoarse and much quieter voice.)

33. What is your Tav’s relationship with their family? 

Envy no longer has a family. They lost their parents when they were six. What they remember of their parents holds a lot of warmth and kindness. Envy thinks their parents must have loved them very much.

34. What is your Tav’s opinion on nobility and authority? 

Fuck the nobility. Fuck authority. Anyone with a significant amount of power is doomed to be corrupted by it. The poor and the downtrodden owe nothing to people with power and privilege, given that they have done nothing to lift up the lower class after benefitting from their labor. (Envy's a socialist.)

35. How does your Tav react to wearing the Wavemother’s robe? How do they react to their partner wearing it?

Envy loves the Wavemother's robe. They think it's fun and sexy. It's more risqué than what they'd normally wear, but they feel beautiful and powerful in it.

When Astarion wears it, Envy turns speechless - which is pretty impressive because Envy loves to talk. They're putty in Astarion's hands.

36. What is your Tav’s favorite type of environment? Like in a tavern, a library, out in the wilderness, underground, etc.

Envy is most comfortable in urban areas, especially in taverns. They love excitement and music and movement. It also helps that there's plentiful food and booze there, which Envy loves to indulge in.

37. What would your Tav’s Zodiac sign be?

Envy is probably an Aries, like me. I'm not a very good Aries (though I do have those tendencies sometimes), but Envy is. They're brash and loud and will throw down for a fight if challenged - whether with words or swords. They're pretty easy going for the most part, but when they feel like they've been wronged, they can and will make a scene.

38. What is their favorite season?

Spring. They think there's something poetic about so much life coming from the desolation of winter.

39.  Where in the world does your Tav want to visit the most?

Waterdeep, maybe? Envy wants to learn more magic and play music for more famous venues, and they think they can accomplish that there, especially after hearing Gale go on about it. Just to visit, though. Baldur's Gate is a shitty city, but it's Envy's shitty city.

Already answered #40!

41. What animal best represents your Tav?

A Nightingale. It sings in the day and in the night, and is thought by many to have the most beautiful song.

42. What flower/tree/plant best represents your Tav?

Larkspur. It represents an open heart, levity, humor, strong love bonds, and dedication. It even comes in Envy-ish colors.

43. What does your Tav smell like? 

Usually clean with a hint of wood smoke. Envy also wears a jasmine perfume when they have access to their belongings in Baldur's Gate.

44. What song best represents your Tav?

I genuinely can't believe I haven't thought of this song sooner. It's honestly perfect. I already imagine Envy as sounding like Joey Batey, particularly when he's playing Jaskier and singing in The Amazing Devil. But "Whoreson Prison Blues" really exemplifies Envy's attitude towards life and hardship, as well as demonstrates the style of music they most love playing. I can absolutely picture them in a prison cell singing this with a couple of spoons.

45. What would be your Tav’s favorite music genre?

As stated above, The Amazing Devil (and Jaskier's Season 2 songs) shows the type of music Envy loves playing and listening to. The Amazing Devil classifies itself as alt-folk, so I guess that genre.

As far as contemporary music, besides alt-folk, Envy would really love showtunes for its range and theatricality.

[houdinicorbini]

Birthday Relationship headcanons/scenario for Ardyn!

I wanted to do something special for the birthday wine uncle! Tw: none

✧ Now birthdays aren't really something Ardyn cares to celebrate. To him it's just a reminder that he can never get old. Buuut, when he got into a serious relationship with you, that changed. He began to enjoy it because it meant spending the entire day with someone he loves more than anything. It did take some time to get him to be comfortable with idea of enjoying his birthday. That was something you had to suggest once the two of had been in a relationship for a bit. To him it's just another day, but he finds it both adorable and amusing seeing you try your best to make him happy. So he just goes along with it.

✧ The activities of the day would include you waking up early, (if you can get out of his grasp in time) making his favorite breakfast and then serving it to him in bed, just an entire day's worth of plans. You'd even go as far as to drive so he can relax the entire day, but that one might be a hit or miss. You have him choose whatever activities he wants and one of them would be chess (Which he will kick your ass in), because it reminds him of simpler days.

✧ When it begins to hit dinner time, you lead Ardyn to his favorite restaurant. It's a tad bit pricey but you offer pay, which is where he insists that the payment should come from his wallet, and he refuses to let up on that. After the two of you finish eating, Ardyn took you to a place that he goes to whenever he needs to a relax. It's a cliff that overlooks a giant lake. A perfect place to watch the sun go down. That's pretty much when the outside activities are done, once the two of you get home, you guys just spend the rest of the night talking and cuddling. A pretty good way to end a nice birthday if you ask me. Now, onto the scenario!

The time was 5:43 in the morning. After having escaped Ardyn's grasp, you were finally in the kitchen making his favorite breakfast. You wanted to start this special day off right, and you knew exactly how to do that.

You made sure to not make too much noise in the process since you didn't want to wake him before it was actually time to get up. It would ruin the surprise if you woke him up too soon.

Once everything was ready and the food was on the tray, you entered your shared bedroom and woke him up in the gentlest way you could. "Happy birthday, sleeping beauty." You greeted him in a kind tone.

Setting the tray down on the bedside table, you leant down to kiss his forehead, but made sure to move back quickly since he almost dragged you back into bed with him.

The smell of food finally hit him, causing him to sit up to see what it was. Seeing it that it was his favorite caused him to smile. Ardyn had nearly forgotten that today was his birthday.

"Darling, you didn't need to do all this."

"Yes I did! Now eat up! This is only the first part of your big day, it's only fair that it needed to start right!"

He only chuckled before grabbing the tray and sitting it on his lap. He did admire your determination to make this a good day. He might as well enjoy it.

Ardyn took his time with his food. One of the reasons was because he was still waking up. The other is that he wanted to take his time since he could tell you put a lot of hard work into this.

After everything was eaten, he got dressed for the day. Once he put on his usual outfit and hat, he grabbed the tray and left the room.

Ardyn saw that you were already dressed and ready for the day. When he noticed he was out, you grabbed the tray from him and put it away.

"You won't need to lift a finger today while I'm around!" You say with a confident smile, obviously intent on keeping your word.

Once the two of the you left the house, you tried to convince Ardyn to let you drive so he could spend more time relaxing. It took a few minutes, but you were able to succeed.

He was going to let you the first time you asked, just wanted to draw it out for the fun of it. He can be a rather smug bastard when he wants to be. You both love and hate it.

Now being the one in charge of driving, you ask him where the two of you are going since he it is his birthday.

"You begged for the car without having a place in mind?"

"Pick the place."

"Being rather rude to the one with a birthday."

After the both of you had a laugh at the little exchange, Ardyn gave the directions of where to go.

This continued though out the day. He'd tell you where to go and hot to get there and you'd take him. You guys even went to a park that was absolutely gorgeous.

There was even a table with chess on top of it. Ardyn seemed interested so you offered to play. You quickly regretted that when he kept kicking your ass. But that bright smile on his face definitely made up for it.

When it hit dinner time, you told Ardyn that you knew exactly where to go. He was rather curious when he saw that sparkle in your eyes. So, he knew to just trust in your judgement.

He was pleasantly surprised to that you chose one of his favorite restaurants, but then he remembered how much it costs to eat here.

"You're letting me pay."

"No! It's your birthday."

"And I will happily let me present be making sure you don't go poor."

You knew there was no talking him out of it, so you decided to just go with it. He did make a lot more than you did so it wouldn't be affecting his wallet as much.

The two of you had a rather filling dinner, everything was cooked to perfection, and you guys talked throughout the meal. Ardyn kept cracking jokes that had you nearly dying at some points.

After everything was paid for, you grabbed a box that contained some leftovers and left the building hand in hand with Ardyn. He had one more place he wanted to go to while there was still a little bit of sun left in the sky.

But this time he was going to drive, you were wanting to protest, but dinner made you so tired that maybe it was best that Ardyn took the wheel this time. He did reward you with a few pecks on the cheek when you gave him his keys back.

The drive there was rather peaceful, so peaceful that you nearly fell asleep. You knew Ardyn would have poked fun if you did end up dozing off.

When the car came to a stop, you noticed you on a cliff, and how it was beautiful. It overlooked an enormous lake. Walking around, Ardyn opened up your door to help you step out. He is a gentleman after all.

"Ardyn, what is this place? it's beautiful!" You were looking around in awe. The place was gorgeous!

"It's somewhere I tend to retreat to when I need some fresh air." He answered before grabbing your hand so he could lead you to a giant oak tree.

When the two of you sat down, it gave you the perfect view of the lake and the sunset. It looked like the inside of a painting, one that should be put up on display for the world to see.

"I can see why, it's very relaxing and peaceful. Feels like I can leave all of my worries behind here." You let you head fall onto his shoulder as you admired the view.

Ardyn was admiring the view that was sitting right next to him. He couldn't have asked for a more better way to spend the last bit of daylight on.

You both stayed like that until the sun had completely disappeared, which was a bit risky, but you never had a problem with daemons, at least whatever problem you had stopped not long after you met the love of your life.

The day wasn't over just yet, you still had one mor surprise waiting for Ardyn at home. He could see that you were excited about something in the car ride back home, but he kept that to himself because he was sure you'd reveal the reason as to why very soon.

When the two of you were at home and settled, you had your lover sit on the couch while you ran into the bedroom so you could grab something.

A few minutes later you walk out with a neatly wrapped box. "I wanted to wait until tonight to give this to you!" You hand it over and quickly sit down next to him, clearly excited to see him open it up.

"Dear, you know you didn't have to-"

"I'm aware, but I wanted to and there's not changing it now!"

He was touched by the gesture, and by the fact that you went out of your way to get him something.

Now, he just was debating on whether he should open it quickly or open it slowly and torture you in the process. Ardyn decided to quickly open it since you seemed so excited. He was also curious to see what it was.

After having removed the paper, he opened the box to see a very neatly and well-done handmade scarf. It was a dark purple with black rose patterns on it.

"Sweetheart, did you make this?" He was still staring at the scarf, ghosting his fingers over each individual rose.

"I've been taking classes for a while now, so I wanted to put all that work into something special for you! Do you like it?"

You were watching his features for any reaction, you noticed how he seemed shocked by this, which worried you a tad bit

Ardyn looked at you while wearing a rather sweet smile. "Thank you, I'll be sure to wear this from now on." He says right as he takes off his old one and replaces it with his lovely brand new scarf.

"Let me get this box out of your way, dea-" You went to grab the box, but the birthday bastard grabbed your arm instead. In one fluent motion, he was able to push off the box and place you in his lap instead.

"Now, let us rest after all of this excitement, yes?" He had already laid himself down on the couch, switching up the position so you were laying on him. Didn't feel like you had much say in the matter but you went along with it.

Leaning up, you place one soft and long kiss upon his lips, which he gladly returned.

"I couldn't think of a better way to end this wonderful day."

[ithebookhoarder]

Could I get something for valentines day to do with the Shelby gang? I really don't mind what or who. I just feel like I need a little love for the day...

Valentines Day Head-Canons for the Shelby Family

A/N: Of course you can, anon! Hope you have a great day, whether you’re celebrating or not. It’s just a day, really, so I hope this cheers you up ;) Sending so much love x 

Masterlist:

Arthur: 

This man would be nervous as hell that he’d mess up valentines day with you. He’s not exactly known for being the romantic of the family, nor does he have the sophistication of his younger siblings. In fact, he’s sometimes surprised you’re even with him at all. 

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t try, though. Oh no, this man is going all out for the day and nothing is too much for you. He’ll have asked everyone, and I mean everyone, for advice about what to do to make the day special. 

He’s not a many of many words so he lets his actions do the talking for him, giving you a massive bouquet of flowers as he comes to collect you for the evening. 

“Arthur, they’re beautiful. You really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble for me. I mean, you even got orchids - my favourites. How did you know?”

“I remember you told me before, eh? When we were at that place down in London. The one with the fancy window displays.”

“I can’t believe you remembered.”

But that’s Arthur. He’s utterly head over heels for you, which is probably why he turns bright red as you kiss him on the doorstep before hurrying back inside to put them in some water. 

He’d also make sure to open every door for you the entire night, refusing to let you even lift so much as a finger. 

In fact, he even pulls your chair out for you in the restaurant he’s taking you to, glaring at the waiter who was going to do it, in a clear sign to back away if he wants to escape with his life. 

“Arthur. I saw that. Behave.”

“I’m on my best behaviour, love. Promise.” 

“Oh really? What a shame, as I had kind of hoped you wouldn’t be, considering that I’m wearing your present underneath this dress.”

Arthur almost combusts there and then. 

Screw dinner - he wants to devour you and only you. Maybe that’s why he practically drags you out of the door at the end of the night, making you laugh as you hurry after him, the two of you fumbling with each other like horny teenagers.  

Needless to say, you spend the rest of the night wrapped in a tangle of limbs, lost in an haze of pleasure as you gift one another with your bodies. 

John:

Now, considering his kids and the fact they are more than a handful, he knows just how important time spent with just the two of you is. That would be his first and biggest gift, getting one of the family to agree to watch the hell spawn long enough for you two to spend some time alone together. 

It’s just you and him for 24 hours of uninterrupted bliss, with no crying children or screaming babies to think about. 

True, it would be weird at first to have the house so quiet, but that’s exactly what you need for you and John to just talk to one another about anything and everything you’ve missed over the past few weeks. After all, he’d probably have been so busy with work he feels like he’s hardly seen you recently. 

He’s also remarkably in-tune with you and knows exactly how to spoil you rotten. 

“You do so much for me and the kids, it’s the least I can do, right? You deserve the world, but I guess I’ll have to do, eh?”

Who knew John Shelby was such a softie?

He’d have the day mapped out down to the finest detail: Breakfast in bed? check. A hot bath with wine and candles? Check. That new dress you had your eye on when you last went into town? Check. Making love for hours on every surface of the house? Triple check. 

He knows how lucky he is to have you and would spend all day making sure you knew. 

“At this rate, we’ll be having another little one to be bribe Polly to watch next year.”

“John Shelby! I swear to god I am not having another baby-“

“So you want me to put my clothes back on and not fuck you again?”

You wisely say nothing and kiss him instead. 

“As I thought.”

Tommy: 

Considering how busy he normally is, the only gift you could ever want from him was that of time. Time away from the stresses of the company or his family and their never ending messes. 

It’s why you’re eager to subtly remind him about the date every chance you get in the weeks preceding it. 

Little do you know, he’s perfectly aware of the day. In fact, he has plans of his own cooked up for the both of you… you just didn’t need to know that yet. 

It makes the surprise all the more satisfying as he wakes you early the morning of, peppering you with kisses and encouraging you to get dressed. 

“I thought people usually tried to get people undressed on Valentines day?”

“Patience, love. It’s worth it, I promise.”

You laugh and trust him, unable to deny him anything when he looks genuinely happy for once. That in itself is a gift, as is the chance to spend the day riding with him around the estate you called home. 

Tommy is happiest on horse back, and you grin as you eye him clambering on his horse out front. 

You’re quick to follow, not surprised to see he’d had your horse readied too. He really had thought this out, down to the route you take. 

“This way, there are no phone calls or fucking distractions,” he explains, relieved at the utter delight in your eyes. “Not unless one of the staff want to grab a horse and come find us. Good luck to them.”

“They’d need it, especially if they’re stupid enough to risk me shooting them for disturbing us. They’d be idiots.”

Tommy laughs. 

Eventually, he’d stop you both, just on the edge of the woods, revealing the next surprise as he pulls out a blanket and basket (prepared with Frances’s help, of course). 

“A picnic, Tommy?” 

“I told you it was a surprise.” 

It’s the best surprise as you both sit there, drinking and laughing as the sky turns dark. 

That’s when he lights a fire for you both, letting you huddle close by the flames, eyes gazing at the stars above you. 

You listen to him telling you all about the constellations and the stories he learned as a child. The sound of his voice is heavenly and you could easily listen to him all night. 

So much so, you’re quick to wish the night would never end, letting you two stay like this, wrapped peacefully in each other’s arms forever. 

Finn:

This literal angel is sweet as hell. Like, you better be prepared for the hand made card he’ll have made you… with Polly’s help, of course. He isn’t a hundred percent sure his spelling would have been right otherwise, but for you he’s willing to make the effort to try and write it for you. After all, you’ve more than likely been trying to help him learn to read and write since you started seeing one another. 

“Aunt Pol… is heart spelt with two t’s or one?”

“One, Finn.” 

“And does angel have a j in it?”

“No, Finn.”

Everyone else thought it was adorable and proof that he truly does love you. They’ve never seen him work so hard on anything in his life. 

Your own card is much simpler, because you wanted to make sure he could read it without too much difficulty. You also may or may not have got a bit carried away with drawing hearts and other sketches to fill it instead of trying to use long and complicated words about how much you loved him. 

However, neither one of you seem to care. You’re too happy with the cards you receive to care about your own possible mistakes. 

You’re also too busy admiring how much of an effort each of you made with your outfits for your date. Sure, it was just drinks and dancing with some of the other teenagers in Small Heath (basically Isiah and his girl) but you’d both gone full out for the occasion. 

“Is that suit new?”

“Maybe… John helped me pick it out. Why? Does it look stupid?”

“No, Finn Shelby. You look incredibly handsome,” you beam, toying with his lapels before linking his hand with yours. “I’ll be the luckiest girl there tonight.”

“And I’ll be the luckiest man.”

Oh yeah, you two are reals saps, just as most young lovers are. You’re all nervous glances, laughs and touches as you two dance the night away. 

It would also be the night Finn kisses you for the first night, summoning the courage to do it as he drops you off back at your house, just a little after curfew. 

It’s worth the risk and as you kiss him back he swears he’s flying the rest of the way home. 

Micheal: 

Micheal has had his plans in place for weeks, making sure every little detail would be perfect for the two of you. He’s honestly looking forward to it, enough to welcome his mother’s advice as she throws suggestions and tips at him the week before. 

“Women like to feel special, Micheal. What about getting her a necklace? Or some chocolates? Fancy ones from France or something.” 

“Mum, thanks, but I’ve got it covered. Promise.”

“Are you sure?”

Micheal laughs and tries not to be offended at her obvious doubt. Then again, he’s not always had a track record of being the most romantic or thoughtful with women. Still, he really cares about you and he’s determined not to mess this up. 

It’s why he’s chosen the perfect place for you two to spend the evening together: your place. 

He’s determined to spend the time just the two of you, and what better way to impress you than cooking dinner for you? 

With the bottle of champagne he brought and your favourite records playing in the background, you’re quickly at ease, grinning as you watch him effortlessly chop, dice and season the dish he’s chosen. 

How is peeling a potato so sexy when he does it? 

It’s honestly impressive, but also because he’s putting so much effort into it which is a nice surprise. As is the way he dances around the kitchen with you whenever there’s a pause in the recipe or a particularly good song comes on. 

You’re surprised at his soft singing voice as he holds you, humming along. It’s rare he allows himself to be seen in such a way, relaxed with no one to judge him for being soft or a little off key.   In front of the other Shelbys he’s normally desperate to impress them, trying to be tough and nonchalant.

However, you know deep down he’s still the country boy you fell in love with when he first arrived in the city.  

By the time you’ve finished dinner, the candles have almost burned out and you know where the evening is headed as you both start to scurry off to your bedroom. 

Ada:

Ada is probably the most relaxed of all the Shelby bunch when it comes to special occasions. This is Ada we’re talking about. She’s also probably the most sane of the bunch, so she knows how to act like a normal person. 

She doesn’t need anything big or fancy as a gift or some elaborate plan to make her fall head over heels. 

A day in the park, with Karl holding both your hands as you walk to the duck pond, is enough to make her look at you with utter adoration in her eyes. She loves how well you both get on, becoming a little family of you own. 

It’s why it’s no surprise you all have dinner together, with Karl helping to serve you as your two favourite people spoil you rotten. You normally eat together most days, even if Karl doesn’t normally wear a suit or call you ‘madame’ every time he passes you something like a mini waiter. 

Ada smirks at the sight, informing you it’s all Karl’s idea - as is the card he thrusts upon you.

“I made the card myself!”

“You did? Wow, Karl. Look how amazing it is. I love the glitter on the heart.” 

“I knew you would. Mum didn’t think so but I won.”

The look Ada gives you makes you want to laugh until you cry as you clearly sense the frustration she must have suffered in the pursuit of Karl’s artistry. It also explains why you’ve been finding glitter everywhere all week. 

“Well, I love it. Thank you - both.”

You press kisses to both of their cheeks, grinning as Ada purred something about giving you her card later once Karl’s in bed. You’re eager to return the favour, impatient to give her your own card and gift. 

It’s a framed photo of you all, taken one day when you’d all been at the local fair. 

The sight of it is enough to make Ada watery eyed as she gives you yours, watching as you unwrap it and gasp in delight. 

The book is the next in a series you’d recently started and fallen in love with. However, you were pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to be released yet. 

“What can I say? Perks of having a librarian girlfriend with exclusive access to advanced copies we’re supposed to be holding on to until next month. I borrowed one and I’m sure they won’t notice.” 

“Ada Shelby. You stole a book for me?”

“Borrowed. Not stole.” 

You don’t care, too overwhelmed to do anything other than kiss her passionately. 

[pynkhues]

what do you think was the symbolism of the "they like you on red" line? i didn't really get that part but saw someone saying that "it was a nice touch". i just thought it meant that women liked beth in red and nothing else but i guess i was wrong.

Hi hi! I think it's one of those lines that can mean whatever you want it to mean, anons, but there's definitely a lot that can be read into it as cinema has what we tend to call a 'colour language'. In that, colours have certain meanings that years of visual storytelling has effectively canonised, and it means that shows and movies use those colours to tell us things about the characters, themes, relationships and story overall.

There's a really good, short, introductory article about it here on No Film School, and I'd really recommend watching the video there too as it's a lot of fun, but for the colour red, it boils down to this:

RED – anger, passion, rage, desire, excitement, energy, speed, strength, power, heat, love, aggression, danger, fire, blood, war, violence

All of the core six characters have worn red at varying points in the series, and I'd say it has a different meaning in each of the characters. For Ruby and Stan for instance, they very frequently wear red at the same time, which, in my reading, gives those scenes a strong thematic throughline of strength, unity and love and shows them as partners in their relationship.

Beth's relationship with the colour red though is, I think, a really defined one across the series, and the show drawing attention to it through that exchange with Beth and Nick was interesting, because it was rooted in Nick trying to control Beth's image, and Beth rebuking that by saying she doesn't wear red, which is a lie. Red is probably the colour she wears third most after black and blue, and it's a colour that's had significance for her since the start.

Namely, it's a colour heavily associated with Beth's relationship to power – both the loss and the gain of it, and frequently as a one-two punch in the same sequence.

As the series has progressed, it's gotten more nuanced with how it utilises red on Beth, moving from feature to trimmings as her wardrobe increasingly darkens as she further emulates Rio, but it's meaning I think is fundamentally the same. Beth has a complicated relationship with power, and that's realised through the way she wears red.

This has actually been there since 1.02, and has been a regular touchstone, so hey, let's take a look at that a bit:

In s1, the colour is much more the focal point because I think Beth's relationship to power was a lot simpler. She either had some, or she had none, and so the boldness of the red was really about encapsulating these moments when she felt powerful or powerless. We see that I think especially in the scenes where she's both – like how Rio's arrival in both 1.02 and 1.07 shifts the balance away from her.

In a lot of ways, s2 is an extension of that dynamic, but as the power plays between Beth, Rio, Turner and Dean all escalate, the use of red in the costume team is even more defined. This becomes particularly clear in moments like 2.03 when Beth gets the key from Rio, the entirety of 2.04 where the pendulum swings between her and Rio and her and Dean, and especially in 2.10, where Beth wears red almost the entire episode. Notably, it's an episode where she has almost no power at all, and she chafes against that until her showdown with Turner at the end of the episode.

S3 meanwhile massively pulls back on the red. It features in a few pivotal moments, particularly in the middle of the season, but otherwise is pretty absent from Beth's wardrobe overall. Again though, the outfits that incorporate red are tied to not just power, but control as well. Her red floral sweater in 3.01 is something she wears across the episode as she tries to build her operation and, successfully, maintain the balance in her life, and when the colour comes back into her wardrobe in 3.07 and 3.08, it's when she's starting to regain a degree of control.

And then s4! Red's back! And interestingly, with the exception of the dream sequence, it's always paired with black – with black as a base colour, a blazer, or the pyjamas underneath her robe.

Red in s4 I think evolves to not just be about power, but the way the line has blurred between the personal and the public, the criminal and the domestic. The maroon robe in particular is frequently worn by Beth at really pivotal moments where this happens – when she thinks she's about to be arrested only for Dean to be, when Rio delivers her the new plates, when she finds out Annie's been kidnapped, when Rio returns to her what he stole.

This blurring of lines is more than just the blurring of these spaces, it's the blurring of how one impacts her power in the other. Her getting rid of the Canadian money professionally led to a loss of power in her personal life by Rio taking Annie, just like how her personal conflict with Stan led to her leaning into her personal power over Phoebe to get the fake cash back for Rio, which in return led to him giving her more professional power again with the plates.

Red is a power colour, and it's considered one as much in real life as it is in cinematic language, and it's one the show often leans into (gosh, even look at Beth and Stan's fight in 4.09 where he's wearing red as he holds the power, and Beth black with only the smallest trimmings of it as she loses it).

The scene with Nick and Beth, like I said above, was sort of encapsulating all of this. Nick wants Beth to dress a certain way as a means to demonstrate his own influence (even if he does it through the constituents), and Beth balks because she doesn't like being told what to do anymore. I think it can be read just on that level, but I think the show has consciously and purposefully built a thematic narrative for Beth through the colour red too, and I think that's pretty fun to pick apart, especially given she, in true Beth form, rebels and wears pink instead.

[sharpace]

Woo hoo! This one was a lot fun.  I wanted to try some historical costuming for the Witcher.  Now don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the costumes in the show.  They are so beautifully designed between historical and fantasy.  However, I wanted to challenge myself a bit and really crack open my costuming books. Costuming thoughts under the cut!

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So first off, I have three costuming books dedicated to Elizabethan and Tudor fashions titled “The Tudor Tailor”, “Elizabethan Costuming for the Years 1550-1580)”, and “Janet Arnold’s Patterns of Fashion 3.″ I referenced these babies pretty heavily for this drawing and I’ve drafted some patterns from the books so if you’re interested in costuming Elizabethan outfits, I highly recommend them!

Moving on! So canonically, the universe is set in the 1200s, however, the costumes and architecture is closest to Elizabethan England so I decided to use that as my reference point instead.  Not only did I feel this would give me shapes closer to the characters but there was a lot more material to work with.

GERALT

So despite narrowing in on a specific time and place... the armor in Elizabethan is clunky... In reading the history of it, the only people who received the full suit of armor we so often envision were palace guards and it was more of ceremonial wear than actual armor.  Not to mention those cost BIG BUCKS.  So scaling it back to foot soldiers got me the following results:

So while these would be much more affordable to a witcher, they are pretty clunky and would be nothing against a monster.  I started looking up viking armor and I lamented to my friend (a big history buff and DnD player) about this when she brought up Lamellar.  Lamellar (below) is small squares of hardened leather, iron, steel, or bronze placed in horizontal rows.  Not only is this pretty close to Geralt’s armor in the show BUT it’s much more affordable to repair as a you can replace pieces instead of a WHOLE breastplate.  It was also pretty popular through the world (aside from merry ol’ Britain) which I liked conceptual since Geralt travels far and often.  So it made sense on a lot of levels! Everything else was a point of extra armor, layering, and what would be the easiest to access and/or replace.

JASKIER

Oh, man. I really savored Jaskier’s costume.  I’m weak for outlandish clothing.  The only challenge I had was what silhouette I wanted.  I decided to go classic with a handsome doublet and trunk hose.  For Jaskier because he actually plays to the class he’s in (watching the growth from his somewhat simple bar-playing clothes to his intricate royal ball clothes is chef’s kiss).  So I decided that they were at some ball midway through his career. I chose this specifically for the colors.  In Elizabethan England there was something called Sumptuary Laws.  It basically spelled out the fabrics and colors that the different classes could use.  So while certain a rust orange wool skirt could denote you as a commoner, a black velvet and gold doublet would denote you as a royal.  Jaskier has two color schemes that stuck out to me.  The first was his introduction with the blue/red and the game which was pink/purple.  So the hot pink we see in the game was definitely not a color and purple denoted royalty (which I don’t put it past him to use BUT yanno).  So I decided to lean into an indigo (which became more green when I adjusted the colors) and crimson palette which denoted a noble class and would cost a pretty penny. For the details, I couldn’t resist embedding some daffodils in the design:

YENNEFER

Yennefer was the hardest.  Yennefer’s costume obviously leans more heavily into the fantasy so this was the trickiest to adapt. Her costumes are so much fun.  Balancing on the precipice of practical and Aesthetic™.  So having worn a few Elizabethan costumes now, I decided to stick to a simpler silhouette but include elements from her costumes in this.  So after flipping through my books and scouring the internet, I settled on a fitted English gown since I saw some great elements that tied into Yennefer’s costumes. I went back and forth the hair but ultimately it was much more common for women to have their hair pinned up or in a hat.

And there you have it!  This was a nice little challenge and I always love getting to learn new things when I do these costuming challenges. :)

[love-and-monsters]

Wyvern Prince 15

And we’re back! Thanks for being patient while I finished up college; I’ll post something else tomorrow to make up for the wait. But for now, here’s our favorite wyvern!

Male wyvern X female reader, 3013 words

Keeping your relationship a secret was a concept Davrakoss seemed to only understand in theory. He hadn’t attempted anything as obvious as kissing you in public, which was something of a relief, but that seemed to be the limit he understood. Instead of avoiding you in public and ensuring your relationship at least looked professional, he often sought you out or tried to stay around you. Every time he stood near you or engaged in conversation with you, you could feel eyes turning to you. The soft murmurs of conversation became jagged whispers as people frowned disapprovingly.

The fact that there was a ball coming up was only increasing the amount of stress on your shoulders.

Balls were done twice yearly, a highly formal one on the winter solstice and a much less formal one on the summer solstice. The formal one was designed to allow nobles from surrounding kingdoms to come together and, as far as you could tell, show off. Wearing increasingly elaborate dresses, showing off ostentatious wealth, and subtle bragging about exactly how well their kingdom was doing seemed to be the main focuses of the evening.

You really couldn’t see Davrakoss at such an event. Subtle politics had never been his strong suit and you couldn’t spend as much time as you wanted preparing him because you had to spend your time making sure the castle was prepared for the ball.

Preparing for the ball was the worst part of the year for every servant. Not only was there a lot of extra work, but nobles tended to become shorter and shorter of temper as the date approached. One of the particularly bratty noble girls had nearly pushed a servant down a flight of stairs when he had failed to bring her a particularly expensive bolt of fabric for a dress.

The pressure at least didn’t seem to be getting to Davrakoss, which was a relief. “Stay with me tonight,” he insisted as you made to head back to your quarters. “It would be simpler. And you wouldn’t have to get up as early tomorrow.”

He had been making the proposition every day since you had officially become a couple. Not once had you taken him up on it, but there was something to be said for his tenacity.

“It would be suspicious,” you said. “People could notice that I don’t return and if I start appearing in your room every morning, they’re going to find out.”

“I don’t care what people think,” Davrakoss crooned, but he wasn’t terribly insistent. “Just stay a little longer, at least?” He gave you a pleading look. It was impressive how much he managed to make his reptilian eyes look like a puppy dog’s.

“Only a little longer,” you said. “I really do need to get some sleep before tomorrow.”

Davrakoss wrapped himself around you, twining his tail around your legs and putting his arms around your shoulders. His cool nose pressed into the crook of your neck and you had to strangle a squeak. “You’re tense,” he said, kneading his fingertips into the muscles near your neck.

“It’s the ball. I hate these things,” you said. Davrakoss lifted his head from your shoulders and pulled you securely against his chest.

“I’m not all that excited for it either,” he said. “I’m not certain what I’m supposed to do.”

“Your part shouldn’t be too difficult,” you said. “Just stand around and make nice with the other nobles. Be polite to anyone who talks to you, smile a lot, and please try not to threaten anyone in any way.”

“I threaten one queen once and you never let it go,” Dravrakoss chuckled into the top of your head. “I won’t threaten anyone.” He rubbed your back, scratching gently with the tips of his fingers. “The other nobles have been talking about bringing dates.”

“Oh, yeah.” There was an unsettling drop in the pit of your stomach. “A lot of them use the ball as an opportunity to declare intent to court. Or to show off their partner. And those who don’t bring partners will usually be trying to get a partner at the ball.”

“I wish I could bring you,” Davrakoss said.

“I’ll be there,” you said.

“Not as my date,” Davrakoss snorted. “As a servant. It’s not the same.”

“Well, I’ll still be there if you need help,” you said. Davrakoss sighed, fluffing your hair with a hand.

“I don’t need you there for help. I want you to be able to go to a human party with me. You deserve a break. You’ve been working so hard for this and you don’t even get to enjoy it.”

“I’ll enjoy having the next day off,” you said. “Trust me, it’s better to work the night of the party than it is to have to care for all the hungover nobles the next morning.”

“And I think you’d look nice all dressed up,” Davrakoss said.

“It doesn’t matter because I can’t go.” You yawned and slowly untangled yourself from Davrakoss. “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Davrakoss said. When you turned back toward him, he took your face gently in his hands and pressed a kiss to your lips. He wasn’t a great kisser, which you mostly attributed to having spent most of his life without lips. Generally, though, his lack of technique was made up for with his enthusiasm. After a moment, he broke away, fingertips brushing along the lines of your face. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said reluctantly.

“See you then,” you said. His hands dropped away from you and you hurried out the door before his sad expression changed your mind.

The next day was spent rushing back and forth between preparing Davrakoss for the ball and making sure that everything else was ready. His clothes were, as was usual for the ball, incredibly elaborate and many-layered. His hair was also done up in an elaborate, twisting braid around his head, and jewelry hung from almost every part of his body. Typically, other servants took care of the clothing and hairstyling for the ball, but Davrakoss made others nervous enough that they kept calling you in for help.

“Ow.” You ran a comb through his hair, tugging on a particularly stubborn knot. The servant next to you drew back, as if frightened he would bite. Instead, he just gave his head a small shake and settled back into his seat.

“What did you do to your hair?” you muttered. You were terribly aware that the other servants in the room were staring at you with wide eyes. You would have to be careful to not be overly familiar with him. But at the same time, it was hard to be overly cool to him. He was already bristling with discomfort from all the people fussing over him and your comforting presence seemed to soothe him.

“I didn’t do anything. Ow!” You gave a sharp tug to one of the knots in his hair and his clawed fingertips dug into the arms of his chair. “Be careful!”

The servant next to you stared with wide eyes, but you just gave her a reassuring smile. “He’s more bark than bite,” you reassured her. Davrakoss’ expression didn’t change, but his tail tapped against your ankle for a moment, an acknowledgement of your teasing.

You gestured for one of the servants to come closer and, with her help, began to twist his hair into an elaborate crown around his horns. It took quite a while. Davrakoss sank back in his seat, eyes closed. The only sign that he wasn’t sleeping was that he twitched slightly whenever you pulled on his hair a little too hard.

Finally, once his hair was all done up and pretty, you managed to shoo the other servants out of the room. Davrakoss peered at himself in a full-length mirror, shifting a little to get a better look at himself. He was wearing a long, greenish-blue robe with a large cape that covered much of his tail. His horns were half hidden under his hair, and mostly covered in long, hanging jewels and metal. Gems and jewels, mostly blue, white, and silver, adorned him all over.

“You look good,” you said. The colors and flowing material made him look almost ethereal. It made your mouth go dry and your palms go clammy just to look at him.

He turned toward you, looking a little dazed. “Thank you.” He reached up to touch one of his horns, but dropped his hand halfway through the action. There was a strange sadness in his face.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, stepping up to his side. He leaned into your touch, eyes drifting shut for a second.

“You did a very good job at making me look human,” he said, leaning away from your again. You gaped, startled, but looking again, you could see he was right. The most obvious marks that he was a wyvern had been hidden away. If you only glanced at him for a moment, you could mistake him for a human. Your stomach twisted.

“That wasn’t what I wanted to-” you started, but Davrakoss stopped you with a sad smile.

“I know this isn’t your fault,” he said gently. “You didn’t design this outfit. I expect it was requested by the royal family to make me look less intimidating.” He sighed, disappointment etching itself across his face. “I am disappointed that I am able to predict human politics to that extent.”

“Don’t be. You’re better than all of them,” you said, drawing close to his side. He smiled down at you.

“Hearing you say that means a lot.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Do you have to leave now?” he asked, still holding you close.

“I should get going,” you said, though you didn’t move. He tilted your head back and kissed you. It was a surprisingly delicate and gentle kiss, but you couldn’t keep your mind on it. Half your thoughts were focused on trying to hear if there was anything outside the door. There was a soft clunk and you broke away, heart pounding. Davrakoss didn’t say anything. He had gotten used to your jumpiness.

“No one’s there,” he said, guiding your attention back toward him. “I would tell you.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “Trust me.”

“I do trust you. I just…” You trailed off, swallowing against the anxiety that swelled up into your throat. “I should go.”

Davrakoss stepped back with a sigh. “I will see you later, then.” He hesitated, then swooped in for another quick kiss. You had the urge to grab onto him, but you were pretty sure that even the smallest errant movement would ruin all the hard work you’d put into his outfit. Instead, you gave his hand a squeeze and left the room.

By the time the ball was ready to begin, you were thoroughly tired of the pale blue and white decorations that covered the ballroom. You were also physically exhausted from the effort of putting up all the decorations. Unfortunately, servants were also required to attend the ball as servers, which meant walking around with a tray and usually getting yelled at by drunken nobles. It was the lesser of two evils, really.

Nobles filtered in as soon as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. Most of them were lesser nobles who were unimportant enough to simply attend without announcement. However, many of the royalty from other kingdoms needed formal introductions.

It was a long, boring ceremony, but you paused in your slow rotation of the ballroom floor when Davrakoss’ name was announced. “Prince of the Wyverns, Davrakoss.” A low murmur swept through the room as he descended into the ballroom proper.

The low light made the jewels on his robe glitter and gleam and his expression was aloof and ethereal. Despite the efforts to make him more human, he looked greater and more terrible than any person you’d seen before. His eyes almost glowed with fire. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

A few of the other members of royalty gathered around him as he stepped into the ballroom, blocking him from view. You continued circling the room, gradually shifting closer to Davrakoss in the most nonchalant way you could.

He was amidst a throng of chattering royalty, looking blessedly aloof rather than uncomfortable. Still, when he saw you, his expression relaxed a little. He moved closer to you, under the pretense of grabbing a glass of wine. He couldn’t speak to you without drawing attention, but he managed to convey both a sort of pained irritation and happiness at the sight of you. His fingers brushed yours as he took a glass.

You retreated again and Davrakoss returned to the crowd of royals. You caught sight of him a few more times as you rotated through the ballroom. He was nearly always surrounded by other royals. Once, late into the night, you saw him out on the dance floor. He was swaying in a slow circle with a princess you vaguely recognized as the third daughter of a northern king. Despite his little practice, he was able to hold his own. At the very least, the princess seemed happy and he wasn’t stepping on her feet.

They stepped off the dance floor and another princess approached him. He took her hand and graciously returned to the dance. Your stomach knotted. It was strange. You had never been jealous of nobles before, not in this way. But watching Davrakoss smile down at the woman in his arms made you feel a little sick.

You left the ballroom to refill your drink tray. Jealousy and exhaustion mingled in an emotional combination that made your eyes sting.

There was a rustling noise behind you and you straightened, wiping off your eyes. Before you could pretend to be getting more drinks, the person who had entered the room walked over to you.

“Are you all right?” You jumped a little. Davrakoss was leaning over you, eyes gentle.

“What are you doing back here?” you hissed. “This area is only for servants.” Davrakoss grinned.

“Yes, so hopefully no one will think to look for me back here.” He slipped an arm around your waist and tugged you into a shaded and secluded corner. “You look lovely.”

“It’s nothing fancy,” you said. You were wearing servants clothing, but it was dark blue instead of its usual black to fit with the ballroom aesthetic.

“It still looks nice on you,” he said. “And it’s probably more comfortable than this getup.” He gestured to his own outfit with a sour expression.

“Probably,” you admitted. “You really should go back out there. You’re going to be disappointing so many of those noblewomen that were hanging onto you.”

Davrakoss laughed quietly. “There is only one woman I care about disappointing,” he said, ducking his face close to yours. “They’re nice, but I don’t think for a second that they care more about me than about my title.” He looked at you with gleaming, reverent eyes. “You, on the other hand…”

“You’re very sweet,” you said, accepting a kiss, “but we really should be getting back to the ball.”

He wrinkled his nose a little and gave you another kiss before sweeping back out to the dance floor. You took a few minutes to allay suspicion and refill your drinks before following him back out into the fray.

The night stretched on and on until finally the sun started to rise. You were nearly dead on your feet at that point. Still, you managed to smile as you herded several very drunk nobles out of the ballroom and toward their carriages.

Davrakoss approached you as you returned to the ballroom. “I am requesting that my servant attend me,” he said in a pretty passable impression of a snooty noble. You smothered a yawn and nodded. He led you out of the ballroom, toward his room.

As soon as you were in the secluded staircase that led to Davrakoss’ room, he seized you and lifted you into his arms. You yelped, automatically putting your arms around his neck. “You’re exhausted,” he said. “You need to go to bed.”

“I’ve got my own room,” you protested weakly.

“And you look exhausted enough to collapse before you even made it halfway,” Davrakoss said. “I am entirely capable of sleeping on the floor.” He shifted you carefully in his arms so he could open the door to his room.

“You don’t have to,” you mumbled, but you weren’t looking forward to actually walking all the way back to the servant’s quarters. “At least let me help you out of your clothes first.”

Davrakoss lifted his brows, but you were too tired to even protest against the implication. With fumbling fingers, you undid the buttons and straps of his robes until he was wearing nothing but his underclothes. Then you had to take several minutes to fully unpin and unravel his hair, sending it cascading down his back.

“Let me,” he said when you finally started to pull off your own gown. His fingers tickled against your back as he undid each button and you wriggled free from the dress. It should have been embarrassing to stand in front of him in nothing but your underdress, but you were too tired. You swayed slightly just standing still.

“Lie down,” Davrakoss said, half carrying you over to his bed. You fell into it and he pulled the covers up around you. It was ridiculously comfortable even when you weren’t tired. Getting to rest in it when solid stone would have made a nice bed felt ridiculously luxuriant. You felt it sink slightly as Davrakoss sat next to you. His fingertips trailed through your hair and along your back. “Get some rest, love,” he said. You couldn’t even lift your eyelids again, but you managed to find his hand with yours. His fingers squeezing yours was the last thing you felt before you slipped into unconsciousness.

[indestinatus]

Perfect Match

TIVATOBER 2020 // DAY 28

↳ prompt: Halloween Party - rated T (2,170 words)

summary: Ziva steps into the party and isn’t completely surprised by all the eyes that turn to her - but that is far from being the only surprise of the night. 

A/N: for my darling @softdeckerstars​, who mentioned something on chapter 1 and stayed with me until chapter 28 to see it written. Your love and support is unmatched, dear friend. Love you so. 

read it on AO3 🎭

Ziva stepped out of the car, facing the chilly air of the street. 

She was nervous. This wasn’t something she usually did, dressing up like that. 

She should’ve brought the jacket she left hanging at the back of her door. Her bare shoulders were shivering, but now there was no going back. Maybe if she had calculated how much skin that outfit was going to show, she wouldn’t even have tried it. Even with the metal-like plaques now covering her forearms, there was still a lot to cover—and the tightness of the bodice didn’t really leave things to the imagination. 

She wasn’t feeling bad as she had looked in the mirror earlier that night, though.

No, she felt… Different. It wasn’t common for them to have time to dress this fancy, and even more than that, go to a party. It was true it was still in the local bar they used to go to every Friday or so, but… With makeup and styled hair, Ziva hadn’t felt that different in a long time. 

Swallowing down her self-consciousness, Ziva took a step towards the bar, opening the rusty door. 

A dozen conversations started at the same time, the sound amplified as she stepped inside. Quickly surveying the bar entrance, Ziva realized it had been decorated with Halloween colors - dull orange and light purple lights hanging from the ceiling - as well as a few spiderwebs and scary skulls placed between the drinks and on various tables. 

In a second, Ziva also noticed that many eyes had turned to her. Some belonged to people she knew, perhaps ones she could even call friends - after a couple of drinks, it was difficult not to laugh with the regulars - but most were from men seeking something. Company for the night.  

Ziva tilted her chin up, challenging them. With a side smirk, she thanked the bartender, Gina, and the young woman gave her an appreciative nod. It didn’t take long for Ziva to spot her friends, though, and a relieved smile cracked on her lips as soon as she saw Abby across the room, also smiling broadly at her. 

“Wow, Ziva, you look great!” Abby took both her hands inside hers, a face so excited Ziva wondered if she had had any drinks already or if this was her natural state. She decided on the latter. 

“Thank you, Abby. And you look… Dark.” Ziva eyed her costume and quickly added, “In a good way.”

With dark eyeshadow and sporting a long red velvet cape over a black dress, Abby looked like her normal self—except for the little fangs that now protruded from inside her mouth. 

“Thank you,” she replied, grinning. “It’s my version of Dracula. Last year, I didn’t win because no one knew who was Mina Harker, so I decided on something simpler this time. Well, simpler in my eyes. It’s just absurd no one knows her. But knows him! She’s part of the story too and—”

“Wonder Woman.”

Tony’s voice made Ziva’s heart do that little flip she was familiar with, and as their gazes met, his was so intense she felt unable to breathe properly. 

It was as if the whole world was reduced to that moment, with Tony’s eyes doing an elevator motion and then back up to her face after a slow blink. Ziva looked down to her own outfit, taking in the knee-high boots and metallic dress. Meeting his gaze again, she felt that even the cold plaque circling her forehead had turned warmer somehow—when Tony parted his mouth to lick the curve of his bottom lip. 

“Yes,” Ziva replied, feeling better than she did the whole evening.  

Tony’s brow shot up, appearing above the glasses he was wearing. Ziva bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making any comment about it (or inflating his ego)—but good heavens, did he look good sporting that. Wondering if Tony would ever wear glasses in real life - and not just a part of a costume - Ziva let her gaze wander down his outfit as well, taking in his combed hair to the side and open shirt. 

“You weren’t lying,” he said, breaking eye contact for a second with a sheepish smile. 

“Why would I do that?”

Ziva tilted her head and visibly saw Tony inhaling. She knew what that gesture did to him, and offered him a secretive smile she knew he would understand. There was something so compelling in making him lose control like that, and how easy it was. All she needed to do was to linger her gaze for some seconds and he would start fidgeting, pressing his lips together or talking without any filter at all. 

But there was something different about tonight. She noticed he couldn’t stop staring. Not even when McGee arrived with the first round of drinks - dressed in some sort of character Ziva didn’t recognize, with elf ears and a strange-looking vest - and not even when a couple of his local friends approached him. 

Tony continued to look at her over the bottle brim and stealing glances when neither of them was talking. The night stretched into a few rounds of drinks, and Ziva soon started to feel the happy dose of alcohol inside her system. Smiling more than usual, she realized they had drifted closer to one another, and Tony’s shoulder was now pressed against hers. 

“You do know this is just a party, right?” Tony looked at her from the corner of his vision. “Not a job interview for modelling or…” he trailed off, and for what felt like the tenth time that night, let his eyes trail to where the bodice hugged her waist, tight and fitting. 

“I heard there is a competition, yes?” Ziva lifted one of her eyebrows. 

“Right,” Tony chuckled, taking another sip of his beer. “Ziva David, parading in front of everyone, dressed as a sexy Amazon Warrior.”

“Isn’t that one of your fantasies, Tony?”

His eyes sparkled and Ziva couldn’t help but cast a confident smile when the beer he was drinking stopped midair, a half-hearted huff sent in her direction. 

“Funny,” Tony said, pointing her a finger. ”You… You can’t say that. You have no right to—”

“You guys are matching!”

Abby gestured at them with a wide smile, clasping her hands together. Her excitement caught the attention of nearby tables, and now a few curious customers stretched their necks to see what she meant. 

Abby was right. Tony had the decency to look down his own torso, where a half-open white shirt displayed the Superman logo which suited him well. A loose tie was draped around his neck, and with his hair combed to the side, Tony did look straight out from a comic book. 

From the way he still stared at her, Ziva guessed she did too, his attraction now way less disguised from the effects of the alcohol. She met Tony’s gaze to find it curious rather than with the playfulness she expected, and Ziva was caught off guard for a moment before she could slip back into her façade.  

“Really?” Ziva cast Abby a smirk. “I did not notice it.”

A click sounded a second later, and Ziva flashed a smile at how excited Abby looked when she pulled McGee to see it too. Halting for a second and furrowing his brows, McGee’s gaze darted between the two of them but finally decided not to comment on the matter. After some loud, excited babbling coming from an already tipsy Abby, she left them alone as well, but not before sending a not-so-discreet wink Ziva’s way. 

“Hm.” Tony turned to her, putting his hands inside his trouser pockets. “Do you think they know?”

Ziva glanced to where Abby and McGee now stood, not looking at them but still close. They appeared to have started some sort of debate on another table about someone’s costume, but Ziva couldn’t catch much more than that. 

“No,” she replied. “They do not.”

“I thought that was the plan.”

“Hm.” Ziva turned to Tony, smirking up at him. “Seeing you squirm is way better.”

Tony’s tongue pushed the inside of his cheek, as he tried to suppress a smile but failed. 

“And you couldn’t settle on something looking less…” he trailed off, tipping his chin to her costume. 

Ziva chuckled. “Powerful?” 

His eyes were pure hunger when they returned back to her face. Ziva’s heart started beating faster. 

“I was going to say ‘less Ziva’.”

Tony’s eyes sparkled and Ziva smiled, appreciating how good he was at flirting. 

“Hm.” Ziva pursed her lips, leaning forward on the table. “I like it. I can even conceal my weapons.”

Tony’s eyes instantly flickered to her chest, the low cut of her dress drawing the desired effect. When his gaze met hers again, Ziva parted her lips. Everything was just too intense. And he looked way too handsome with his hair and glasses like that. 

“How many are there with you?” Tony stepped into her space. 

Ziva tilted her chin up towards him. “Do you really want to know?”

“A man needs to be prepared,” Tony chuckled. “But you do look... amazing.”

“Thank you,” Ziva opened an honest smile, then skimmed his face as she said, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Tony lifted a hand to brush a curl off her shoulder, and the light touch of his fingers left a burning trace on her skin. 

“We clean up nice, don’t we?” 

He skimmed her face in wonder and Ziva smiled, looking at him from under her eyelashes. Not even a moment after, Tony chuckled, shaking his head as she trailed his gaze with her own. 

“You know what?” He chuckled weakly, then hummed with the back of his throat before meeting her eyes again. 

“Screw you,” Tony said, though his eyes were visibly sparkling.

Ziva huffed out a laugh, taken aback. “Why?” 

“For making me want to tear it off.”

Tony’s lips pressed together as he nodded towards her metal dress and his hand hit the table a couple of times in a fist, then opened with the palm facing down. Licking his lips, he closed his eyes and glanced the other way, and Ziva couldn’t help but laugh at how helpless he looked. 

“Hm.” She clicked her tongue and cracked a smile. “And I have not even ‘paraded’ yet.”

Tony continued to shake his head, the look he cast a clear mix of helplessness and pure lust. 

“Dangerous woman.”

“Wasn’t it Wonder?”

A smile cracked on his lips, and Ziva followed it as Tony turned to face McGee and Abby still in a heated conversation at the table across the room. 

“They’ll know,” he said after a moment, with a duck of his chin. 

Ziva chuckled amused, then lifted an eyebrow. 

“How?” she asked, then motioned to their costumes, adding, “I do not think we can be more obvious than this.”

Going with matching costumes had originally been Ziva’s idea, but Tony had also helped pick the ones that felt appropriate. They had previously discussed how to break the news to the team, but it wasn’t something that easy to tell everyone that they were actually together now, however natural it may seem. With a Halloween party approaching, Ziva had joked they should leave them a clue, even if as minimal as matching costumes. 

“When I kiss you,” Tony replied, then chuckled as Ziva sent him a questioning look. “Just saying. They’ll know.”

“I thought we had agreed—”

Tony’s hands cupped her face and pulled Ziva close in an instant, words cutting short. As soon as his lips met hers, his tongue demanded access into her mouth, and Ziva let him with little to no restraint. 

Tony’s mouth was almost aggressive, the kiss an explosion of all that had been building up all night. Ziva tuned her senses to return its energy, and as she let her fingers trail to the back of his head, Tony let out an appreciative groan from low on his throat. 

She felt his hands fisting her hair, and Ziva circled his neck to pull him closer. With all the weight of Tony’s body now flushed against hers, she suddenly felt lightheaded, and as his hands left her hair to trail the sides of her hips, Ziva did feel like she was getting out of breath. 

Breaking the kiss, she heard him whine before sharing her breath—as if he was also in need of some oxygen. Tony let his forehead pressed to hers, and squeezed Ziva’s waist to make a point. 

“Know that this is your fault,” he said, sounding indeed a bit breathless. 

She tightened her grip around his neck, chuckling against his lips. 

“We both know it is not,” Ziva replied. 

“It is, though.”

And if he heard another click coming from Abby’s camera, Tony made no comment on it before claiming Ziva’s lips again with his own. 

As he smiled through the kiss, though, she had a feeling he was alright with them figuring it all out just like that. 

[vegalocity]

Spicynoodleshipping 16/32

Prompt meme

16: Naughty kiss || 32. Getting caught in the act

Not only must you go to horny jail but I give you homework, hidden in this one is a secret in regard to the theatre AU, whoever finds it gets to suggest a musical for me to replace Singing in the Rain in AU canon bc i realized i can’t make those fucking dance numbers realistic with where i have the characters talent levels in this AU

--

“You know I get that Sandy couldn't figure out the giant puppet in time, but I'm not sure if the 'posion ivy' look really works for The Plant.” Red Son tugged at the neckline of the green bodysuit peering at himself in the full length mirror. He would be more perturbed if the 'poison ivy look' wasn’t exactly what Tang was going for when he'd presented the garb to Red Son. The skintight unitard was the same shade of vibrant green as they'd used on the plant puppets stem, with the lighter yellow green of the bulb on his sternum and shoulders for symmetry, vine patterns and leaves had been hastily yet sturdily stitched up and down the costume to make it look more plant like, and unfortunately, due to the tightness, and the 'strategic vine patterns which would make the best shadows against the lightning and has nothing to do with muscle emphasis don't be ridiculous Red' it didn't leave much to the imagination.

They weren't at tech week just yet, but it was looming overhead and he'd have to get comfortable with wearing the outfit underneath the more standard black hoodie and dark jeans required for an actor working a puppet for the small and medium Audrey II's. After they came up with a way to spare Sandy's sanity on the biggest puppet the idea would be that when the plant first starts speaking he'd be in a proper puppeteer's outfit, then when it gets bigger after killing the dentist he'd take his hair down and unzip the hoodie and roll up the sleeves to show a bit of green, and then at the end show up in full costume, move about freely since the only thing the giant puppet could do was open its mouth enough to make it look like it could swallow Audrey (some college girl who really needed the experience as Mei was needed on tech crew exclusively to make this whole thing work, Red Son had offered to be the one fully on tech crew this production but Mei insisted) whole.

“I compliments your hair!” MK speaks up from his own costume inspection, his was far simpler, just some meek nerd stereotype looking number, a pair of fake square glasses perched on his nose, and hair combed back all neat and perfect. “I think you look nice!” Red Son turned away, but it wasn't any use, granted MK could definitely still see his growing fluster in the reflection of the mirror.

“You look like if someone put Tang and Wukong in a blender and put whatever came out in an ugly sweatervest.” 

MK let out a huff “Red, don't be mean.”

“I never said you don't look good, if you interpreted that as an insult that's your problem... Though I was insulting that sweatervest, it's hideous.” He leaned in to properly examine himself from up close, Wukong had said it might be a smart move to employ some 'extra effects' to really make the look stand out, and in a morbidly amused way he wondered how his parents would react if they found out he'd decided he actually was fond of this place and these plays by showing up on stage in like... green lipstick and fake fangs or something.

He was wondering if he'd even have time to get home and pack his bags or if he'd have to be packed up before opening night when MK's arms sliding around his waist caught him off guard.

“You're a real asshole you know that?” his breath was hot against Red Son's neck, sending a shudder up his spine.

“We wouldn't be fucking if you weren't into it.” MK hummed in response, saying something that sounded like 'fair enough' before pressing his mouth to Red Son's neck, effectively ending the conversation there.

Red Son hummed and lifted a hand to press against MK's head, the other resting on one of his arms around Red Son's waist.

“Careful, if either of these costumes get messed up it'll be our heads.” he found himself lightly jabbing. MK didn't seem to pick up his amusement though, because he hummed against his neck and otherwise stopped his ministrations.

“Yeah we should probably get out of them...” he agreed, and THAT was what made Red Son's face fully flush. That... was not what he was suggesting.

But now the gauntlet was thrown down, and Red Son was helpless but to pick it up.

That hideous sweatervest went first, then the undershirt, then Red Son struggled out of the top half of the unitard, the sleeves and collar hanging around his hips when they reconnected. MK was backed into the counter before the long mirror and hopped up to sit on the ledge, his legs wrapped around Red Son's hips and for once his hair was soft to the touch, though the fake glasses pressed wierdly against his face, Red Son refused to pull away even if it was just to take them off.

Red Son bit down gently on MK's lower lip, just enough to draw a thin whine from him and let his hands wander across the exposed chest infront of him. MK kept his arms around Red Son's shoulders, though every so often he'd feel one of the hands splay across his back and try to somehow get them even closer together.

MK's legs tightened around his hips, grinding them together with a sharp motion, Red Son groaned lowly and felt MK's grip on his shoulders tighten, nails starting to dig in-

The unlocked door opened with a click that went off like a gunshot

“Alright boys, any concerns about the outfi-” Tang, of course it was Tang, who else would walk right into a dressing room uncaring of any changing that may be in progress because his brain is all full of fabrics and measurements?

His normally 'disinterested and unflappable' resting face was gone for once, though the only slightly surprised look it was replaced with implied this was neither the first time he'd caught two actors fooling around in the dressing room nor did he expect it to be the last.

“Well they must be uncomfortable if you're both so quick to be rid of them.” he snorted at his own joke before waving a hand “Get your street clothes on and I won't tell anyone. We're still in Pigsy's time increment for the bet, so if you guys can wait until next week to try again I'll appreciate it.”

And really was there anything to do then beyond do as instructed?

“Oh and Red Son?”

“Y...yes?”

“If I see a single leaf torn off of that costume I will not. be. happy.”

Apparently Tang was once their go-to actor for villains, and in that moment Red Son could understand why.

--

Send me stuff!

[walkingshcdow-a]

All I Want For Christmas (Is You) : Drabble

Summary: Finnegan spends Christmas with his aunt and without Victor.  Ships: Finnegan/Victor Trevor @tinfoiltemplar

Snow glistened on the branches of the trees stretching across Edie’s property. Finnegan, tucked neatly into himself, alone in one of the castle’s libraries, glanced out at the silent, Scottish countryside. He hadn’t wanted to come home for the holidays. This year, like most years, he’d intended to stay in London for the holiday season. It was Charity Gala Season, Christmas party season… Usually, Finnegan glittered among London’s elite. FinneCorp’s Christmas party was tonight. Finnegan hadn’t missed a single one since he was eighteen. He couldn’t bear to go this time, though. He’d be alone - he was often alone - and Victor Trevor would be with Shanon. The holidays were a time for family, after all. Finnegan usually enjoyed trying to show up or show off his lover at galas. He enjoyed completing his outfit with a date who was accomplished or gorgeous or both and watching Victor watch him with someone else. It wasn’t so tempting when the tables were turned. And, of course the Trevors were invited to the FinneCorp gala. It would have looked strange not to invite them after a year’s worth of cat-and-mouse games in ballrooms and board rooms, tennis courts and country clubs. Maybe Finnegan was a coward for not wanting to be reminded that his favorite plaything was a married man, with obligations more important than Finnegan could ever be. Maybe he was a coward for only getting as far as Scotland when he tried to run away. He could have set out across the world with a dozen lingerie models and sent Victor the pictures. Instead, he was here. He was home. The closest thing to a “home” he thought of when everyone else in the world was talking about “going home for the holidays”. Edie received him well enough when he called two weeks ago to invite himself. 

“I’m not dying yet, you know,” she said coyly. 

“You’d better not be,” Finnegan said back, tone just as teasing. “I don’t have time to take your seat in Parliament. Big things are happening at FinneCorp just now. I’d hate to give it up.”

“But you won’t go to your own company’s Christmas party?”

“I’m reevaluating my priorities, Edith.”

“Michael Finnegan, if you tell me you’re dying, I’m driving to London to kill you myself.”

“I’ll be there on the twenty-second,” Finnegan said. “I won’t inconvenience you for more than a few days.”

“Stay through New Year’s,” Edie said. “Or is it only your own Christmas party you’re avoiding?”

Finnegan had forgotten what it was like to be seen by someone who didn’t keep you a dirty secret. He’d forgotten what it felt like to feel good in another person’s company without realizing that the feeling wouldn’t last past morning. He’d forgotten how good it felt to be able to take someone’s love for granted. 

He stared at his phone. Right now, Victor was probably getting ready for a gala - his? - while that wife of his shrilled at him about not embarrassing her. Would Victor look for him at the gala? Worry and wonder when Finnegan wasn’t there? He hoped so. He hoped Victor scanned the room and could only find the vacant places Finnegan ought to be. He hadn’t outright told Victor he wouldn’t be in attendance. A week ago, wrapped around Victor in his bed that was now too large for Finnegan alone, he pressed his lips to the nape of Victor’s neck. 

“I’ll miss this,” he said quietly. “During the holidays.”

Victor had rolled over in his sleep and snuggled small against Finnegan’s chest, mumbling something of his own - a question, maybe. If he wasn’t so canny, Finnegan would have asked Victor to run away with him. Instead, he carded his fingers through Victor’s wild curls and smiled grimly.

“Oh, our social schedules this year,” Finnegan said vaguely, thinking he answered the question. “We’ll have some catching up to do come January.”

January couldn’t come soon enough. 

After all, what was he meant to do? Bring his lover home to his aunt and the ancestral walls that had silently judged Finnegan with the same stoniness as most of the figures he remembered from his youth? How would he explain to Edie that he was willing to waste his time as Victor’s shame when he would have been anyone else’s pride? How would he say why he hadn’t yet devoured Victor whole and spat back his bones? His teens and twenties were a graveyard of lovers who took second place to FinneCorp or his ego or a thousand other things. Edie had watched him then with exasperation and a little something like guilt. It wasn’t her fault Finnegan didn’t know what love was supposed to look like. Had his mother and father ever missed each other this miserably? Of course not. God, of course not - unfeeling creatures. They’d never watched sunrise crawl up a sleeping lover’s back; never subtly touched a lover’s wrist at a dinner party to say ‘I’m still here; I’m glad you’re here, too”. They’d never admired the grace and power of a lover whose backhand could send the tennis ball distressingly far or whispered secret commands into a cell phone the night before reuniting with your lover, things only the two of you would know. They’d never exchanged glances, redesigned their schedules, risked their reputation. Passionless. 

He envied them. They hadn’t even been able to get a passionless marriage right - both long dead before Finnegan’s thirtieth birthday, no golden anniversary. The dry pages of their love story provided kindling for their quick, burning funeral pyre, which lit the way for their only child to map the world. Finnegan knew his world well. He knew his place in it. He knew that his place was not to be cheaply tossed aside by the likes of Victor Trevor, not to be exposed for indiscretions that lesser men would have, not to die in disgrace. That was the ruinous road he trod now, so sure that even if the map spelled disaster that one thing was clear: Victor would not cast him aside. Finnegan could come and go as he pleased, as he did now, and Victor would remain stubbornly loyal, maybe more afraid of being alone than he was in love with Finnegan. After all, as Finnegan well knew: those who loved him were a rare and dying breed. Edith crossed his mind again. She would pity him because she loved him and she’d tell him to wash his hands of the whole thing because she loved him. He envied her. How much simpler it was to wash your hands of love than to be covered in it. Finnegan wanted to scrub and scrub the feeling away so he could forget, at least until after New Year’s that he was in love. Instead, he felt Victor’s fingerprints smudging him still, a week after they last touched. It didn’t feel dirty. It felt like someone re-molding him, fashioning him into something new. For so many years he’d been sharp, a weapon. What would it be like if he let Victor make him into art?

Good God, he wasn’t even drunk. He was simply sitting in the upstairs library, smiling at his phone as he silently begged it to buzz. Not work. No, his work phone was plugged in by the bed, charging. This phone, his personal phone, rarely saw the light of day. Since he’d arrived, however, he’d waited and waited for it to show a sign of life. He tried to be discreet, pretend that he was answering emails, but the crestfallen disappointment that sank his whole bulk into the corner of the couch ricocheted off of him, drawing the eye with a flash of light and then its sudden absence. Why wasn’t Victor texting him? Finnegan sighed and cast his eyes out the window once more. 

“Don’t tell me you’re already regretting staying home from the party,” Edie said from the doorway.

Finnegan didn’t jump, but he certainly hadn’t noticed his aunt enter. Her sharp, pale features complemented her dry wit, much the way a fluted glass complemented white wine. Putting the phone on his lap, he looked at her, composing his own features into a Sauvignon Blanc. 

“I’m sure the party is suffering far more in my absence than I am,” he said. “What’s in those mugs?”

“Mulled cider,” she said, crossing the room. “Not as romantic as a champagne toast, but…”

“I’m not married to my job,” Finnegan said, pointedly avoiding the point. “I can’t imagine what would be romantic about any champagne toast I might give FinneCorp this year.”

Edie arched an eyebrow and joined him on the couch carefully, handing him one of the mugs. Finnegan wrapped his hands around it for warmth. Even though a fire blazed in the fireplace, the castle was old and drafty. No dignified amount of jumpers ever seemed to make this part of the castle warm enough. 

“What’s really wrong, Finn?” she asked. 

“Nothing.”

“Usually at this point in the evening, you’re texting me for second opinions on identical bowties,” she said. “Tonight, you’re sulking in the coldest part of the house.”

“It isn’t the coldest part,” Finnegan said. “I’m sure if I want to freeze to death, I could spend the night in the stables.”

“How dare you,” said Edie. She took great pride in her racing horses and the quality of care they received, but Finnegan didn’t expect her to sound so insulted. She glowered at him over the top of her mug. “I know you better than just about anyone. This is sulking.” 

“I’m just enjoying the quiet,” Finnegan lied. “It’s nice to put my work phone on silent.”

“So who are you waiting to call you?”

He narrowed his eyes.

“No one.”

“Then why have you been gazing wistfully at your phone since you got here?”

“I’m not gazing wistfully at my phone-”

“Michael Finnegan, I know I raised a better liar than that,” Edith said. She lowered her mug. “Try that again: who are you waiting to hear from?”

Finnegan paused.

“A business partner,” he said hollowly, “who I’m planning a new venture with.”

“Mhmm.”

“It felt disloyal to discuss it at the FinneCorp gala,” he continued. “And I hoped he was as enthusiastic about the prospect of going into business together as I am - was. I know I’m probably dodging a bullet, of course.”

“Of course.”

“He’d be a fool to let such a golden opportunity walk out his door. I don’t consider side ventures with just anyone. I won’t make that mistake again any time soon.”

“Of course not, darling,” said Edith. “How long have you been sleeping with him?”

Finnegan scowled and looked at his phone again. 

“I don’t know why you’re keeping it a secret,” said Edith. She shrugged and took a sip of her cider. “You could have brought him with you.”

“Things aren’t that serious,” said Finnegan. “Are they ever?”

“Darling, you referred to yourself as a business venture,” she said primly, in that pointed way she had long ago taught him meant that what you didn’t say was everything: I know how you feel about business ventures. “It’s a big enough castle, don’t you think?”

“He has other plans,” Finnegan said. 

Finnegan and Edith exchanged looks. 

“Does he know you wanted to see him?”

“If he knew that, then he’d have the upper hand,” said Finnegan. “He knows that I’ll be glad to see him in January.”

“That’s a long time,” said Edith. “I won’t judge you if you invite him here for New Year’s. It might be nice to see you smile instead of gazing longingly out windows.”

“He won’t,” Finnegan said. 

“You’ve finally found someone who can tell you ‘no’ and now you’re refusing to let me meet them?” Edith asked. “I’m hurt.”

“He can’t tell me ‘no’,” Finnegan said. “That’s the problem, which is precisely why I didn’t invite him.”

“You aren’t giving your HR department headaches because of a scientist or a secretary, are you?”

“No. I’m not twenty-five anymore.” 

I’ve moved on to bigger and better scandals, he thought miserably, taking a swig of his cider. It warmed him inside-out and he realized that he would be very sad and cold when he drank it all. 

“No, you aren’t,” Edith said. “Which is why it baffles me that you’d be willing to waste time the way you are now. If I was your age and I had a handsome young man in London-”

“I never said he was handsome.”

“Finnegan.”

Finnegan nestled back into the couch. He checked his phone once more before staring into the fire. The flames twisted and danced with much more merriment than he could muster. 

“Are you two fighting?” Edith asked, voice softer, less poised to make fun of him or roast him. Finnegan lifted his gaze to his aunt and shrugged. “Call him.”

“It’s not that simple,” said Finnegan. “We aren’t fighting.”

“Then why haven’t you called him?” Edie asked. “I bet he’s doing the same thing with his phone, hoping to hear from you first.”

Finnegan could imagine it. Victor, drinking and staring at the phone deep into the night. Victor, sitting for family Christmas photos and checking his cell phone. Victor, tonight, at the gala, hoping to at least see him and getting drunk when he realized Finnegan wasn’t coming. Finnegan took a sip of his cider. Then another. 

“I hope he has a miserable Christmas.”

“Michael!” 

Nominally, they were Church of England; neither side of Finnegan’s family had ever been religious. You still would have thought he’d told his aunt that he wanted to punch the pope square in the jaw a few times. 

“I do,” Finnegan said. “It’s what he deserves.”

“Because he had plans with his own family for the holidays?”

“Precisely.” Finnegan said. “He had plans with his own family for the holidays.”

“Finn...”

As the pieces came together for Edith, Finnegan feared the worst. He feared her pity, her horror. He feared she would think he was still a child and that he didn’t understand the enormity of the situation, how colossally he’d ruined his own life, their legacy, everything. Instead of tucking into the couch tighter, though, Finnegan maintained his aunt’s gaze levelly. He refused to be ashamed. Refused. He already lived like a fugitive in the city he owned because of the affair. He refused to be shamed here. This was to be his castle someday. Surely his ancestors had worse secrets buried on these grounds. Surely Edie had heard worse - from his own mother, perhaps…

“Goddamn it, Michael.” she said, leaning back. “Tell me this is one of your boyfriends from Eton… someone you knew before…”

“No.”

“So he was married when you met?” Edie asked. Finnegan said nothing. “Does he have children?”

“Not yet, thank god. I’m sure his family will apply pressure soon enough.”

“Do we know his family?” Edith asked. 

Finnegan shrugged. The Trevors were of middling importance. Millionaires, not billionaires. Nouveau-riche, relatively speaking. He set his mug down and searched his pockets for a cigarette and lighter. 

Edie’s brow creased. 

“Is he someone important?” she asked. 

“That depends on your definition of ‘important’.”

“So he is.”

“He’s not that important,” Finnegan said. “Not to me, not really. I could discard him if it suited me.”

“It doesn’t suit you to discard a married man?” The ridges scripting themselves into Edies’ forehead deepened. “But he’s not important?”

“I’m still enjoying him,” Finnegan said. “When I tire of him, that’ll be the end of it.”

“Oh, Finnegan.” She sighed his name so pityingly that Finnegan choked on a lungful of smoke. Coughing, he looked at his aunt through the bluish haze. Her hand, adorned with jewels Victor’s family might have mined and sold, rested on Finnegan’s knee. He studied the sharp cut of the diamonds as they glittered in the firelight. It was easier to focus on the small details of ancient family jewels than the diamond-sharp pain in his chest. He tried to breathe it out. His eyes stung. “If he was just a plaything, you would be at that party tonight. It isn’t charming for you to delude yourself - you’re the only one here you’re fooling.”

“Yes, well, so long as I delude social London, too, I’m the only one who can get hurt by it,” Finnegan snapped. He pried his aunt’s hand from his knee. “I don’t need you feeling sorry for me.”

“I don’t know if I feel sorrier for you or for him. You aren't the only one who could get hurt, Finn. He’ll look for you at Christmas galas all throughout the holiday season. God only knows why, if you’re as warm towards your lovers as you are towards your family.”

Finnegan glowered. 

“I’ll see him in January,” he said. “He’ll wait for me.”

Edie said nothing, strategically retreating into her mug of cider. Wielded by her, silence was a weapon. Finnegan could feel the crushing hit of her judgement without words to soften the blow. 

“He will,” Finnegan insisted. “I’m worth waiting for.”

“You’re worth so much more than that,” Edie said softly. In her hands, softness, too, was a weapon. Finnegan grimaced into another drag from his cigarette. “You deserve a lover who can give you their all, no hesitation.” 

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Clearly,” said Edie. “If you knew it, you wouldn’t waste a minute more on the heartbreak of a married lover.” 

“I’m not heartbroken,” Finnegan said. “And it isn’t a waste. It… builds character.”

Edie laughed sadly, so sadly Finnegan drew tighter into himself for warmth. 

“Oh, Finn,” she murmured. “No one who knows you would ever think you were devoid of character.”

She rose from the couch and drained the rest of her cider.

“I’m going downstairs,” she said. “I kicked the chef out for the night and I’m going to bake Christmas cookies. I’d like my sous chef at my side, like when you were little.”

Finnegan groaned. Neither he nor Edie were talented bakers. He was very good at fetching ingredients from the pantry and little else. He mostly perched atop the counter and watched as Edie overmixed the dough. Their cookies were always a little tough. Every now and then, one had a gooey center, but many more had burnt edges. The frosting was always too thick or too thin and Finnegan usually lacked the patience to frost cookies when they’d sufficiently cooled. As a child, he’d watched frosting melt and run down the sides of his cookies and wondered why his cookies looked nothing like the ones Edie’s personal chef made for them. 

“I’m in no mood for disappointing family traditions,” he said. He took another drag from the cigarette and smoke billowed from his nose. 

“I’m afraid that’s what you signed up for when you chose to come home for the holidays.” 

Finnegan heaved himself to his feet and tossed his cigarette into the fireplace. 

“Do I have to leave my phone upstairs?”

“You can bring it on one condition,” said Edie. “Either you text him a ‘merry Christmas’ or you delete his number from your phone. Come downstairs once you’ve done one or the other.”

She walked from the library to the hall and Finnegan listened to her descend the stairs. Then, picking up his phone, he typed two words to Victor Trevor. 

Merry Christmas, he typed.

Maybe I won’t give you up for my New Year’s resolution after all, he wanted to say.

I miss you, he thought. It aches. 

And then, silently, he slipped his phone into his pocket and followed Edie’s path downstairs. 

[kirrtash]

The kikyo au my mind spat out in a moment of weakness

This is a story about Kikyo, and about what could have been.

Maybe Kikyo died when she did. Maybe she died after, during the final battle, maybe she had to fight until the end, or maybe she died earlier, getting to rest and avoiding all the mistakes she was going to do. But still, at some point she wandered the earth as little more than a corpse, and when Kagome passed the well for the last time after the final battle, the well demanded that she was whole, in body and soul, not leaving behind even a little piece of herself.

Of course, the well was strange, it had its on way of working, with or without the shards, only letting Kagome and Inuyasha go, making up its own rules all the time. And it didn’t like Kikyo’s body of clay and ashes, the well, but instead of killing her again, to give back her soul to Kagome, it changed the rules again.

Is mama Higurashi that finds them, at the bottom of the well, Kagome crying, frantically trying to go back while Kikyo sits, still stunned at coming back to life, again, her body of flesh warm and unfamiliar.

Kagome is stuck in the future. She doesn’t speak to her, happily using Kikyo as a dummy to release at least a little bit of her fury. Kikyo doesn’t mind. She wouldn’t know what to say to her anyway, after all they have been through, she already said goodbye to her for the last time. Mama Higurashi and the rest of her family are friendly enough even if they don’t understand who she is, at first.

Kikyo watches them, rapidly realizing how much Inuyasha is part of this family and how much they miss him when they figure out that the well is not working. And also, what they think his relationship with Kagome is. It gives her a new sensation she doesn’t know what to think of. Surely enough the thought that for this people the history between her and Inuyasha doesn’t exist is strange, but not in a completely bad way. Kagome doesn’t mention her connection to him either, and she is relieved. Kagome doesn’t speak much anymore, she realizes, not only to her, but also to her family.

It’s not simple at first. This world is strange and foreign, the people bad-mannered and disrespectful, and she can't understand why she needs a piece of paper to tell who she is. But they manage, in some way, to create a life for her, tiptoeing around Kagome’s rage and desperation, higher and higher every day the well continues to refuse her passage. They (Grandpa and Sota) clean her the unused storage room at the first floor, on the third day, while mama Higurashi soothes a crying Kagome. They find her some clothes, other than her Miko outfit, and when Kagome sees her in her own dress she smiles, for a second, the first smile since they arrived. Then she starts to cry again. Kikyo doesn’t ask why.

At first, she likes mama’s dresses the best, looking for comfort and coverage, but soon enough she starts to like Kagome’s too. When they offer her a job at the temple as a Miko (and even that is different in this time, but she picks up quickly at least) and she has her own money to buy things she starts experimenting.

She walks in the city, trying to not draw attention to herself while she learns the ways of this place, drinking in all that she doesn’t know, tasting every foreign food, going to the cinema (with Sota, the first time, to see an anime, but after that alone) and the museums. She catches the train one day, alone even if she has never taken it before, and almost manages to get lost. She buys stupid gadgets and books upon books, clothes and art supplies, objects for the kitchen for which she doesn’t know the purpose and in one memorable occasion a whole climbing station for Buyo. The cat doesn’t even look at it, doesn’t even move from his afternoon sleeping spot.

When she tries her way with make up, some months later, Kagome takes pity and teaches her how to do it. And also, how to use the oven, and how to open a bank account, how to use the computer, and how to understand what she reads in the internet, even if Kagome herself has never had many occasions to use it. Once she has started it doesn’t look like Kagome is going to stop. She teaches her the basis to understand science and mathematics too, while she studies for her high school tests and exams, and what has happened in the last 500 years and even before, which rights women obtained, which ones are in place for all the people and granted by the states. What states are.

Kikyo likes geography. The idea that so many places, so different from each other could exist never even crossed her mind. It makes her dizzy to think of all the different people that live around the world. A small part of her reminds her how simpler it is for human life to thrive without demons. The world is infinite and open in front of her, she can explore it at her heart’s content, chatting with Grandpa over the old traditions and new ones, listening to Sota’s excited explanations over the new technologies, relaxing and reflecting with mama Higurashi, when the new information is too much.

She watches Kagome, as the girl withers away with her own grief, never going too far away from the shadow of the well house. 

Her friends come to visit her sometimes after school. The Higurashi family presented her as a cousin, the resemblance keeping the lie credible, but after that first encounter, she avoids the girls. They seem nice, but the way Kagome watched her when they were talking reminds her of their past. Kikyo can’t bear her angry stare anymore. She doesn’t want to ruin the tentative companionship they have built, in the evenings spent to teach her about the future, so she keeps to herself and avoids them at all costs. It’s easier to look for mama Higurashi in the kitchen and chat in front of a cup of tea anyway.

There is still so much to do and see in this world, without demons and jewels and priestess with strange powers and a body that is still her own despite her death, but not a corpse anymore. She is free.

She misses Inuyasha sometimes, when the future world is too weird and incomprehensible, she misses him as well as her village and Kaede, the rice fields and the sunset from the hill behind the sacred tree. She misses the simple life they could have had. A happy life, once they had been freed from their burdens by each other. She sees Kagome’s grief and her desolation, and she knows that she doesn’t miss him in the same way.

Kagome’s life has stopped. She doesn’t know much of the world still, but even to her is clear that Kagome is not planning for her future, is not going on, is not living. Kikyo understands now, how Kagome would have battled Naraku for her whole life, if it meant spending it with Inuyasha.

They are just back from her first true travel, she and Sota. She knows that the boy didn’t really need her, but mama Higurashi insisted and even if in the end it was Sota that did all the work, keeping the tickets and documents and making sure they got on the plane, she is glad she went. She cried when they left the earth, Sota watching her, trying to understand if he had to call for help or not, but she didn’t care. She just sat there, the earth disappearing behind the clouds as she promised herself that she was going to fly again.

They are just back from the airport and Kagome isn’t there anymore.

Sota receives the news as the man he isn’t, a child already familiar with loss, already acquainted over the years with the sad figure of his sister, the widow of the well. Kagome has not been more than a ghost of herself, ever since they arrived to the future.

She tiptoes around them, respecting their grief, not sure if she is allowed to stay. She still has Kagome’s documents, the ones they gave to her for the travel. Nobody would suspect anything, she and Kagome too similar to arise any doubt. She could run away, but she doesn’t want.

Mama Higurashi makes her tea that evening. She asks her to stay. It’s easy to say yes.

But this is a kinder world, a kinder story, and the well gives Kagome back to her family, at some point or another, gives her the permission to visit. Kikyo watches mama Higurashi cry in joy and Kagome reuniting her families, Grandpa fussing around and Sota tackling Inuyasha. Inuyasha, he looks older, content. He doesn’t move at the impact, he can’t, he brings something too precious to let his guard down, Kikyo sees it in his posture, in how he curls around the small body in his arms, barely visible, half hidden as it is in his fire rat vest. A minuscule ear, not different from the half demon’s ones pokes out. She doesn’t want to meet them.

She calls one of her friends, someone from the library, or the coffee shop she works in now, or the history club, someone who is free right now. She knows that Inuyasha has probably caught her scent and she doesn’t particularly care. She runs down the steps of the temple, in the direction of the bus stop, the wind in her hair, all her life in front of her.

-

I have never ever ever written anything in my life (my university work was brought to life with immense suffering, and also not in english) so, if anyone happens to read and enjoys this little au, I’m happy for you, otherwise, I am just going to keep this on my blog as a reminder that if I am sleepy at 8 p.m. I should just go to sleep. Period. (I finished writing this at 1 a.m., well done @me)

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

We Can Make Anything Work as Long as You Stand By Me (Sriracha, Part 26.)

Description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could let you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: With one year anniversary approaching, Hopper decided to make something special with the help of your mom. 

Warnings: Smut, but a sweet and loving one. Also, let’s say this is one of the last happy chapters before... Well... The summer of 1985 is approaching rather quickly, don’t you think?

A/N: I feel like we hadn’t got nasty here in a long time... So... Here we go. Inspired by Foreigner and their song I Wanna Know What Love Is (IT IS 1984 GUYS, IT’S ALRIGHT, DON’T COME AFTER ME.)

Word count: 3.3 K

Tagging: @nemodoren​, @creedslove​, @missdictatorme​

Master list: H E R E

Eleven staying at your parents began to occur daily - even your father liked the girl since she was interested in his fishing set, watching him taking care of it and he could tell her about his damn sports articles for hours and she didn't seem to get bored with his enthusiasm.

It was secretive every time you took her there, making sure that she's hidden under the blanket perfectly. Since your mom stopped working at the Post office, you called her every day before taking El there - and it was never a problem. First, you let your parents take her for one day in a week, that was in early June. You or Hopper always made sure to stick around just for El to feel safe. When you were sure that she can stay there on her own the whole day, you began to drop her there on her own.

The first bigger breakthrough came when the first of July was slowly approaching - it was almost scary that you and Hopper made the things work for a year almost. That was also the evening when he got another of his batshit crazy ideas. He asked your mom when he was dropping Eleven off on Friday, letting your mom taking care of her. Aiden was enthusiastic about being an uncle - that day, he planned to draw with El and then showing her a few cool tricks he taught Lady.

"Can I ask you a favor?" - Jim asked your mom nervously as he watched Eleven taking her shirt off, almost automatically pouring herself Molly’s lemonade. She was asking all the time before she learned that she can have anything that was put on the counter - whether it was Molly’s lemonade or her famous cakes.

"Go on." - Your mom let him in, pouring him a glass of water as well. It was awfully hot on that day - even if the summer had just started. Hopper really appreciated the glass, if he had to be honest.

"God, this is awfully cringy, but..." - Hopper stepped a bit away from Eleven who watched him cautiously, having a small sunburn on her face since she loved to spend too much time in the water. - "A year of me knowin’ your daughter is comin’ by and I thought that maybe you could have El for a sleepover so I can make her a nice evenin’?" - Hopper asked, getting red on his cheeks. Your mom opened up her mouth a bit and then furrowed.

"You want to take her out on a dinner, right?" - She asked suspiciously, not letting Hopper off of her sight for a single second. Hopper almost spilled the water out of his mouth before nodding. He was thinking more like kinky fucking all over the cabin, but he couldn't tell that your mom straight to her face.

"At the Spanish restaurant in the downtown, Molly, she loves the food there." - Hopper somehow got out of his mouth, praying for your mom to leave him alone. Then, she nodded, looking at Eleven.

"It will be a pleasure to have this anger here overnight. She can sleep in Y/N’s old bed, we can watch some movies, have fun. Sure." - Molly nodded, waiting for Hop to drink the rest of the water and leaving the house, telling Eleven once again that she better be good kiddo.

And as Jim and your mom had planned, so it happened. On Sunday, you had to leave for a shift, so Hopper took Eleven to your parents’ just an hour before you were supposed to end. Joyce, again, helped him with the outfit and tips of what to say, she helped him with making the reservation of a table since Hop was clueless with these things. And let me say, that man looked handsome. Like, really handsome.

He took his beige blazer out of the wardrobe, slicked his hair, shortened his beard and Eleven helped him with choosing the right pair of jeans and a shirt - they ended up picking a white one with blue, almost invisible stripes printed all over it. Even Molly was pleasantly surprised when she saw him looking like a million bucks when he opened up the garage door.

Meanwhile, you could just describe your shift at horrendous and you were happy, once the clock had shown eight o’clock. The people were nice, it wasn't the people that visited the bistro... It was just too hot and the sun was shining the whole damn day. Yet, you wanted to buy some fireworks and celebrate the fourth of July at your parents’ as a family, so each penny you made could help you a lot.

You felt like a hot pile of a mess when you were leaving the bistro on one of Jim’s shirts with a messy hairstyle and a pair of jeans - but that didn't matter to him at all while he was waiting for you in front of the door, leaned into your car with a fucking huge flower in his palms. You didn't even realize what day it is. The first of July - you started to work at the station last year that day and Jim had proclaimed it your anniversary day. And even if you would remember what day it was, Hop didn't look a man who remembers dates and anniversaries. Your whole face lit up as soon as you realized it's him, just with shortened hair, looking smooth as ever.

"What are you... Doing here?" - You giggled, leaning closer to kiss him. - "Did you leave her all alone at home?" - You ask worriedly, taking the flower he was giving you while you let him give you yet another kiss. And that was a proper French one.

"Don't worry about anythin’ today, alrite? This day’s yours." - Jim smiled, patting your bum carefully as he threw your stuff on your backseat, shoving the flower there carefully as well. You had to sit on the co-driver’s seat because this wasn't the end of his masterful plan.

Yes, you felt kinda worried about Eleven, looking at the profile of Hopper’s face, but you knew that if she wasn't safe, he wouldn't be that calm. Foreigner was playing through the car as his hand palmed your knee when he drove towards the restaurant. This was the best looking anniversary you ever had - at least that far.

Even if you felt like you're not dressed pretty enough to have a meal at the best Spanish restaurant you've ever been, you saw in his eyes that it doesn't matter, for fuck’s sake. All that mattered was that you two were there together on a great meal, having lots of great conversation which you hadn't got in weeks... Months even. Hopper also made you laugh hard many times and... It just felt like the old times when there was no Eleven, when you lived at his trail and when nobody knew about you, although you were sitting in a restaurant full of people. It felt like that small half of the month after you got back to Hawkins from Dakota and before Jim disappeared for three whole months.

You were grateful for what you had, but it reminded you of something much simpler than what your current situation was. It made you remember the days when you could walk around completely naked, having him any time you wished to, the long nights of laughs you spent in the bed and the swims in the quarry, both of you completely naked, kissing each other, being completely lost in the moment. You missed these moments. But Eleven was now a part of your life as well and honestly, you wouldn't change that for literally anything in the world.

The bigger surprise was waiting for you in the cabin; while you had to sit in the car all alone for what seemed to be whole eternity, Hopper was doing something in the cabin. You were already happy - but your breath got pretty much stuck when you saw tens, maybe hundreds, of candles lit up with I Wanna Know What Love Is playing in the background.

"You're trying here, Mr. Hopper, I gotta say." - You whispered when you felt his fingers dip into your tensed shoulders, making you grunt with pleasure, biting your lip in the process.

"You're just worth all of this, what can I say?" - Jim smiled into the crook of your neck, letting his palm slip under your/his shirt and below the belt on your jeans.

"You’ve never seemed to be the man who does great gestures. This is such a nice surprise. You might need to do this more often, huh?" - You hummed and moved your hips in the rhythm of the song. It was a truly great choice of music; this was a song for dancing, singing, nuzzling, slow fucking, just everything. And when the main verse of the whole song was playing? You simply got lost in the moment every time.

"And I have more." - Jim smiled, taking the flower out of your hand, putting it into a vase. You had a while just to look at your man - and dear got, he was extremely hot at that moment, just doing the little everyday things. - "But you need to take a shower, darlin’."

"Do I smell, Jim?" - You giggled and hugged him from the back, smiling into his blazer. - "Now you're smelly too." - You put your chin on his shoulder, kissing the crook of his neck with a smile.

"You don't smell, I just want to see my fiancée naked. Is that a sin?" - He asked back, putting the vase on the table, watching you walk away with a nasty grin on your face. Slowly, you undid the buttons, one after one, showing him the bra you got under. Knowing this, you would take something way sexier, but you found out just after your shift ended and you were looking like a damned witch living in the deepest swamp.

That didn't stop you from undoing your jeans, unhooking the button just before you entered the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Without hesitation, Hopper picked up both your shirt and your pants, folding them without putting too much effort into it, since you taught him to do his stuff. By the time the door opened up again, you were already covered in soap bubbles, your hair was completely damp, but you had a contained smile on your lips. At least until you heard sounds of a Polaroid taking and printing a photo.

"What are you doing, you old creep?" - You mumbled, dragging him under the warm water after you - which meant that he had to put the camera away.

"Creepin' on you, I guess?" - The man smiled into your lips before kissing you, feeling as you massaged the gel onto his arms.

"Well, I hope you're not creeping on anyone else like that." - You laughed back, looking at that man getting on his knees. There literally wasn't anything hotter than Hopper on his knees; that was a fact which needed to be stated. Especially when you knew what he's about to do to you.

"So you can see this David guy, but I can’t creep on anyone else. That’s kinda unfair, missy." - Jim's mouth said into your thigh before kissing it. You haven't done anything in the shower for a hella long time. This almost felt like a redemption of sorts.

You'd swear that you started melting at the first moment his tongue touched you right on the most sensitive spot of your body. Without putting too much effort into anything, you stopped the water, swung your leg over his shoulder and gripped his hair pretty tight to make sure he won't leave his damn place. You didn't even realize how much you've missed being eaten out anytime and anywhere just because Jim said and wanted so.

Before your brain could make out what in the name of God of is happening, you had two fingers inside of you, third about to be added masterfully, his lips were sucking the living soul out of you and you had some serious trouble with standing up straight. Your fingers were playing with his hair, smoothing it from side to side as you bit your lower lip, trying not to scream too loud.

"Fuck, goddamn, Jim I love you." - You mumbled the typical nonsense you did as you were about to come, feeling that bastard just humming into your pussy. The vibrations set you off - so in the next second, you were barely standing there, screaming curses, his name, the name of the Lord, just everything as the stars flew past your closed eyes.

"Don't you pass out on me. 'Cause then I'd have to give you a mouth to mouth and that David guy would roast me for that, baby." - Hopper laughed from kneeling between your legs, watching you from the below, holding both your legs in place.

"Shut your mouth, creep." - You laughed with your eyes still closed, feeling him standing up to turn on the water. And boy, oh, he was hard as stone. But when you wanted to palm that dick, he shushed your fingers away, turning your back at him, slowly massaging the gel onto your back.

"What the hell was that, James?" - You laughed, giving into the touch of his fingers, feeling the warm water run down your spine, the small of your back and your ass. - "I'm not allowed to touch you now? You're like a moody-ass wife."

"And you're my impatient husband. Have anyone told you that patience is a gift?" - He asked with a sigh when he leaned your head backward, slowly drawing circles onto your head. That felt ridiculously hot and relaxing.

"Captain America says bullshit like this in every issue." - You said, biting your lip under that touch. It was really simple, yet somehow getting you all worked up. - "Patience is a virtue."

"It sure is." - Jim's palm slapped your ass to give you a sign that he's done. Jesus, he was in a playful mood that night - and you had his palm literally imprinted on your right buttcheek. With a sigh, you put your bathrobe on and left the bathroom, watching that fucking jackass biting his bottom lip as he tried not to laugh out loud. And God, you felt so in love when he came out of the shower, just drying his hair as you smoked by the table with one of the cabin's windows open.

"What?" - Hopper asked, smiling back at you.

"You're so handsome and I feel like I don't tell you that often enough." - You mumbled back, finishing the cigarette right after, tapping it off.

"Yeah, I'm the princess and you should be kissing my damn hand every time I swin' my breathtaking ass past you." - He agreed, making you laugh once again before he sneaked in in front of you, letting one of the towels to the ground.

"Hopper, the clothes and, ugh..." - You mumbled, bending your head backward, sighing at that man of yours.

"I'll do all of 'em tomorrow." - Jim promised, helping you to stand up before he kissed you.

"You're going to be the fucking death of me, I swear, James Hopper." - You whispered, pulling for another kiss as you tried to get the bathrobe off as quickly as you could, doing the same with the second towel around his ass.

Before you could say anything else, your back was pressed into the table while that bastard put both your knees into a fucking spread eagle. You barely remembered this position being as filling as it was - you just felt your eyes rolling backward when his dick slipped inside. This was the Jim you fell in love with - the man fucking you at a fast pace with his thumb wrapped around that small bundle of nerves between your legs.

You missed this playful sex. You loved the short pauses when he just wiggled his hips to make you shake in arousal, you lived for those small moments when he stopped to smile at you as he just pulled out and then came back in full force, making you squirm. This man was a piece of art and no-one could tell you otherwise.

"Can I come?" - You asked with a teasing smile on your lips, basically touching your ribs with your knees. You didn't know how Jim pulled that one off during each of these sessions, but he turned you into a fucking gymnast when he had his dick buried deep within you.

"Not unless I say so, I'm the law in this cabin." - Jim got out through his gritted teeth when he pulled your ankle on his shoulder, kissing it. - "Put your hand in use, I wanna try somethin' nasty I heard of from Callahan. You're gonna tell me once it'd raise a red flag." - Jim whispered you and you nodded frantically, feeling the rhythm fasten up. You put your hand on your clit, flicking it as a damn DJ vinyl and then you felt it and you screamed, making Hopper completely freeze down with shock in his eyes.

His thumb gently rubbed the back entrance - not getting in, just slowly rubbed around it. You opened up your mouth and your heart rate was literally over the top.

"You didn't like that, am I rite?" - He whispered while breathing heavily, still gently moving inside of you.

"I swear that I didn't know where this came from. It's strange... But that doesn't think I didn't like it. I just need to try more of that." - You reassured him quietly, wiggling your lips a bit.

So he tried it again. You felt a strange tightness every time he brushed over that spot. It made you jump a bit, pulling your buttcheeks together for a small second. You closed your eyes and made a high-pitched noise, shaking a bit. This was giving you a completely different dimension of love-making. It was hugging your whole torso, it wrapped around your head and made your heart beat faster. And then, without any warning, you came.

To be honest, you were basically yelling his name and you banged the back of your head into the table as you did so, shaking a good five minutes after Jim ended with you. You barely knew that Jim came on your belly and boobs because you were out of the world, your head was spinning. Damn this was a sweet treat.

"I think we need to do anniversary sex more often." - You mumbled tiredly, having your eyes closed. The whole feeling was so endearing for you that you couldn't imagine any other way Hopper could fuck you any better. He outdid himself literally every time. - "And I need to thank Callahan, because, holy fucking shit."

"I was that good?" - Jim asked cockily, making you sit up to clean you up with one of the towels.

"This was the best sex I've ever fucking had." - You smiled lazily, pulling him for another kiss. - "And I love you so damn much."

"Same here. But we should put you to sleep or you'd fall asleep right on this table and... I have to clean this damn place up because I promised to." - Jim smiled at you, hugging you tightly, letting your arms circle around his waist.

You were just two people in love and nothing could feel better at that moment.

[fetoras475]

How To Make a Kitchen Knife

Stage 1: Designing, Steel Cutting

Before you do whatever else, you should think of a plan for your blade. I based my plan off of a few kitchen blades I previously had. I made a few changed like the rakish part by the tip rather than a smooth bend, and Im utilizing an African rosewood called bubinga rather than the dark wood/plastic for the handle piece. Something else, its essentially a similar blade: 1/8 inch thick sharp edge, 5.5 inch handle, 6 inch edge. My first sketch was half-scale on a designing cushion, and afterward I did a full scale one to ensure the size felt right, and so forth As should be obvious, it took me a few attempts to get the handle shape right.

There are additionally a few contrasts in the metal itself. Most importantly I'm utilizing 0-1 device steel, and different blades are spotless, however different blades additionally have some metal rib things at the front of the handle, an element that is difficult to make on the off chance that you are simply utilizing a bit of level bar stock as I did.

When you have your plan, you should arrange or obtain your steel and wood. I purchased my steel from Mcmastercarr.com (I love that site). I got 2" x 1/8" bar stock that was a foot and a half (18") long, I think whenever was $35. I had some piece bubinga (the wood I utilized for the handle) laying around so I utilized that. Additionally, in light of the fact that language is cool, the wood pieces for the handle are actually called scales, recollect that. For the metal handle pins I utilized around 1/4" mellow steel dowel (you can get this at any nice home improvement shop).

Utilizing estimations from my full scale drawing, I scribed my blade diagram onto the steel with a sharpie. Notice how I got steel that was actually the correct size so I didn't need to make numerous cuts. NOTE: If you just have one "valid" straight edge in your steel that you can utilize, make this straight edge the edge, not the spine (the spine = level top edge of blade where you can push down with your hand while slashing watermelon). At the point when you get around to honing, you will perceive any reason why you need as straight an edge as workable for the cutting edge.

Stage 2: Belt Sander Rig, Cleaning Up the Rough Cut

The following stage is to tidy up the cuts, and remove the material right to the sharpie layout. After this progression we will have our last blade shape.

To tidy up the front of the cutting edge (the bend on the edge and the two point cuts on the top by the spine) I utilized a belt sander which I flipped over and zip tied and braced to the work seat. I dont have a genuine belt sander like this one, so I needed to extemporize. I utilized 80 coarseness sand paper for this.

You will get extremely acquainted with this apparatus when you make your blade edge too, so on the off chance that you choose to utilize this rearranged belt sander technique I recommend making it tough.

To tidy up the handle and the back edge of the edge I utilized a drum sander bit on a drill press, a sanding drum on the dremel, and a seat top processor.

Stage 3: Making the Edge

The edge of the blade is the base segment of the cutting edge (the piece of the blade that isn't the handle). Pretty simple, I know, I simply need to be certain all the language is straight. All things considered, since we are grinding away, I'm simply going to list the language:

Handle = part that you snatch

Edge = everything except for the handle

Edge = base piece of the edge, its sharp

Spine = top piece of the edge, inverse the edge

Scales = wood pieces that sandwich the metal in the handle and give the handle some meat to clutch

Pins = the metal dowels that experience the scales and look cool (for this blade they give no auxiliary significance)

Alright since that is cleared up, its opportunity to begin making your edge. The ideal activity here is to eliminate material on the sharp edge so it begins 1/8 inch thick by the spine, and tightens directly with the goal that the width goes to zero at the edge. Duh, isn't that so? As a matter of fact, its harder then it sounds. Props to you in the event that you accomplish this! Mine wound up being around 1/8 inch thick till mostly down, an inch from the spine, THEN it began tightening to an edge. Also, the shape wasn't even direct (straight line from start of tighten to edge), it bended. I didn't stress over it to much until I completed it and took a stab at cutting things like onions and apples. Since the sharp edge gets thick very soon in the cut, as connected to gradually getting thicker as the cut advances, you need to push a ton of the thing you are removing as you cut. This makes it so the cut requires a ton more weight then it should. Thus, in the event that you can, get that tighten quite straight, and make it take up the all out hight of the sharp edge.

In any case, first I denoted the centerline of the edge so I realized where to sand to. In the event that you can copyist it directly in the metal that is better, at that point what I did. I just utilized a bit of tape that ran down the whole edge. On the off chance that you dont put some centerline marker and simply attempt to figure, your edge will presumably wind up screwy and not level. Like, when you put the edge on the cutting board there will be holes, a.k.a. you won't carve completely through certain pieces of the stuff you're cutting. Hitting that centerline on either side with the shape is vital! All things considered, you dont need to go right to the centerline. I left around 1/64" on either side, which gave a 1/32" level area directly at the edge. In the event that you hone right to a fresh sharp edge, it will be demolished when you heat treat your blade, and afterward you should sand it down and restart.

When utilizing the belt sander to eliminate material, consistently point the edge against the heading of the sanding belt. It sounds somewhat strange, yet this is the best approach to do it. To emphasize, you need each bit of sand paper that passes by to initially sand the edge, and afterward the spine.

Stage 4: Making the Scales

I had some extra bubinga from a past task, so I chose to utilize that for the wood scales. Most blades have handles that are .75 ish inches thick, which is 48/64". The metal in the handle is 1/8", so 48/64 less 8/64 is 40/64" of wood. This is partitioned into two scales so each scale should be 20/64" thick. I cut mine around 1/8" or so to enormous so I had some squirm room. Its simple to remove material, its difficult to add it. Continuously blunder on the enormous side! The bit of wood I began with was to enormous so I tore it down on the band saw. I chose two areas which had decent patters and were level on one side (this is significant with regards to sticking the scales to the metal, if the outside of the wood isn't level, the paste won't bond too and you will have less surface zone holding your scales to your blade). At that point I followed the state of the handle onto the bits of wood, and cut and sanded them so they were close. Once more, blunder on the greater side, dont attempt to coordinate the layout of the scales to the metal at this time. In the event that you stand by till they are stuck with the wood hanging out over the metal, its simple to sand down the wood straight up to the metal, it takes into account a very flush, professional looking completion.

When I had the unpleasant handle shape in the scales, I bored 1/4" openings where I needed the pins (I'm utilizing 1/4" metal dowel for the pins). For the interim however, I utilized transitory wood dowels to hold the scales together. I continued to penetrate out the openings in the metal as well. I began with a little pilot touch, and moved to a larger than usual opening so I would have some space to play with when it came to adjusting the scales and sticking. On the off chance that you have a feeling that you definitely know precisely how you need to adjust the scales on the metal, don't hesitate to utilize the best possible size boring tool for the 1/4" pins.

Stage 6: Heat Treating the Blade

Like I stated, the metal I began with is B95, and we need something between a C55-C60. This is a decent hardness for a utility kitchen blade. Hard enough that it keeps an edge, however not to hard that it snaps under tension, it will simply curve and flex a bit. As an examination, blades are commonly too hard and overly fragile with a higher rockwell tackle. You never need to hone them cause they keep an edge perpetually, however they chip without any problem. Then again, excoriating blades are a lot milder and in this manner super bendy, however require successive honing.

Due to the compound structure of steel, you can just dependably solidify steel to its greatest saddle. Along these lines, what you need to do is solidify the blade however much as could reasonably be expected, which makes it about a C65 on the rockwell scale, and afterward you relax it by treating it. Its a lot simpler to dependably temper to various outfits then it is to solidify it to various hardnesses.

To solidify the steel you should initially warm it up to around 1500 degrees F and afterward rapidly chill it off. At the point when you heat it, you are changing the translucent structure inside the steel, and when you cool it rapidly you "lock" that structure set up. On the off chance that you let the hot metal cool gradually (by, state, simply forgetting about it at room temperature), at that point the structure you have made by warming it up will gradually change once again into its underlying structure: a lot gentler structure. By rapidly lowering the hot steel into something with a great deal of warm mass, similar to room temperature oil, the steel will cool [almost] to the touch in a few seconds. This "extinguishing", as its called, keeps that translucent structure from changing once again into what it was previously, it secures it as it were.

To temper the steel you need to warm it up to around 500 F, let it 'splash' at that temperature for 20 or so minutes, at that point let it cool gradually. This low-temperature measure gives you considerably more command over how much the compound structure of the steel changes once more into that gentler arrangement, on the grounds that the steel changes much more slow at lower temperatures. Typically one 'douse' at 500 F for 20 minutes is sufficient to bring the hardness down from a C65 to a C55 or C60 for full information Visit here.

[cuorepietoso]

Things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

     ft. and requested by @ronanivarsson

     In 2003, things seem a lot simpler. A lot kinder. He has his grades, his friends, his extracurriculars-- hopes and dreams for the future, a steady family. A pair of strong shoulders, for others to lean on. He’s seventeen, taking to everything he tries like he was born for it, spinning tales and flirtations and picking locks, lying to his parents, spending time with Ronan Ivarsson. 

     Ronan is a little older, whip-smart. Bitterly, coldly lonely. Battista imagines he can hold all of those sharp little pieces of him and put him back together-- if not completely right, then well enough. Better than before. That’s what’s important. Better than before. He likes to press his shoulder to Ronan’s arm and needle him, crack jokes until he smiles, and drag him along in a life of mischief just to watch his eyes widen with wonder and mirth. Ronan likes to roll his eyes, and share his cigarettes, and pretend he leads a far different life for a few minutes at a time. 

     They don’t talk about family, though Battista has snuck into enough parties to know that Ronan’s mother looks like an unkind woman, eyes always narrowed critically, and he’s seen more than enough of the resentment that lingers in the corners of his friend’s expression. He often wonders if Ronan can tell that when he trails his fingers over his shoulder and spins him away from her gaze, mouth running a mile a minute about something useless, it’s meant to be a distraction from the bitterness that lies there. He wonders if he resents that too, or if he appreciates it-- he’s never been brave enough to ask.

     He’s bored, today. It’s been nearly a week since he’d last stuffed himself into a suit and a charming mask, and he doesn’t feel like doing it tonight, either. Instead he slips into an old black hoodie and climbs out his window, and makes his way to the Ivarsson estate. The thrill he gets from slipping past security measures in the old, drafty place is a familiar one; he’s made this trip many times before. When he hauls himself quietly into Ronan’s window, the man is straightening his tie, glowering at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t look funny in any way, but Battista forces out a light laugh, a jackal-sound of amusement and joy. It only becomes genuine when Ronan nearly jumps out of his skin at the unexpected sound. 

     “Why the sour expression, my friend? You look like you’ve been sucking on a lemon--” He dodges with another quiet laugh when Ronan lazily pitches a pen at him, unwilling bemusement forming on his own gaunt face. 

     “It’s far too late for me to get you into the event tonight, Battista--” He pauses, eyeing the ragged edges of his streetwear critically. “And you’re hardly dressed for it, either.” 

     Battista lets himself fall back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, and pretends to ponder this statement of fact. “No, I guess not. But I was thinking-- bene, I was thinking we do something a little differently tonight.” There’s no answer from Ronan at all for a long moment, and when he finally sits up on his elbows, he’s still standing there in the middle of the room, eyebrow raised expectantly, his tie still half-done. They stare at each other in silence, before Battista hops back to his feet and wanders over to undo and remove Ronan’s tie, before beginning a search for something that’s, in his eyes, suitable for the task ahead. “I was thinking I’d show you what real freedom looks like.”

     There’s a soft scoff from behind him, but when Battista turns and tosses a pair of jeans and a soft tee shirt at him, Ronan catches them gamely. “‘Real’ freedom? You’re a few years too late for that, though I’ll admit I’m curious as to just what the hell you think you mean.” His eyes don’t leave Battista’s hands, which are now rearranging the contents of his nightstand, and lifting up his watches and rings to see how they glitter in the light. Battista waits, and he waits, and then he grins when Ronan starts to unbutton his shirt with a long sigh and a quiet, “Have it your way, gazza.” 

     In almost no time at all, they’re stealing across the gardens into the rapidly darkening night. Battista has to slow his normal gait to almost a crawl for the older man, but he doesn’t mind, or comment, just pushing his hands into his pockets and humming a jaunty little tune as they wander the streets. Ronan doesn’t look nervous, exactly, but he does look out of place-- even in a hoodie and jeans, it’s clear the man’s outfit probably costs more than Battista’s family’s store is worth, and his uneven stride seems to draw the occasional eye. Battista bumps his shoulder into his arm, and jokes, “Don’t worry rich boy, I’ll look out for you on the mean streets.” 

     Ronan’s look in answer to that could strip paint from a wall, but all it does is make Battista’s smile grow. “Sure, scricciolo, I’d rather have you than a bodyguard any day.” The rude nickname pushes a laugh out of him-- luckily this one is contagious, and Ronan snickers right along with him. 

     “The city isn’t dangerous unless you’re an idiot, Ronan. We’re all just people.” He bumps shoulders with him again, and when Ronan shoves him lightly back, he grins at him. “Have you ever had anything from Sayiid’s place? It’s like, er-- like a Mediterranean sandwich shop. Kafka, shawarma--” Ronan is shaking his head, so Battista leans up on his toes excitedly. “Alright, we’ll get dinner there. And then after, I want to show you something.” 

     They get their sandwiches, chatting idly about all manner of topics. Philosophy, art, food, politics. Battista knows what he’s read, but Ronan is educated, and their differing perspectives on certain things never fails to fascinate him. They whisper about the future. Battista leads them to the train station, and Ronan gives him another skeptical look.

     “If you wanted to run away with me, Battista, I would have brought a ring. And some cash.” He’s eyeing the building warily, like he’s not sure if the boy is pulling his leg or not. There’s a measure of trepidation, there. But a measure of excitement, too. At the possibilities. 

     Battista scoffs. “Don’t worry, we’ll both go back to our boring lives after this. Cross my heart. We’re just going up to the hills. It’s a fifteen minute train ride. Come, or we’ll miss it.” 

     Tickets bought, train boarded, the time passes in patches of warm silence and quiet words. They stop at a station a few kilometers outside of Verona, where the air is crisp and starting to thin from the elevation, and there’s an empty lot that overlooks the city. They sit with their legs hanging over a low wall, and they eat their sandwiches. The city looks small, but the lights are bright. A long silence stretches, and Ronan stares out over the spread below with something like hunger in his expression. Battista crosses his legs, keeping his balance easily, and leans his elbows on his knees. 

     There’s something sharp in Ronan’s voice when he finally speaks again. “This is what you brought me up here for? To eat, and look at the city? I’ve been on plenty of mountains before.” 

     Battista licks the last bit of red sauce from his fingers, humming absently to let him know he’d heard. “Yeah, I know. You’ve probably been to the alps.” 

          Ronan glances at him. “Then what do you think is so freeing about this?” 

     Brows furrow. He’s not sure how to put it into words, but thankfully Ronan lets him think on it first. “Well… We’re here because we want to be.” He waves his hand out, as if to encompass the entirety of the city. “It’s easy, down there, to get caught up in how important everything seems. The stupid party tonight-- I know you didn’t want to go. But what real consequences are you going to face for skipping it, and all the petty politics that come with it?” Ronan opens his mouth, like he might argue, but Battista leans until their arms are pressed against each other and he continues, still looking out over the city. “It’s just a place. And if we let it, it’ll eat us alive. You have to remember that you aren’t a slave to it, or to the people it holds. We’re people.” He’s not sure he understands Ronan, and he’s not holding out hope that he ever will. But this is as much a reminder to himself as it is to the older boy. “I just wanted to show you, I guess. Sometimes I come out here to remember that the world is bigger than all the bullshit down there.”

     There’s no disbelieving scoff, or easy dismissal, and if he were to be honest it means more than he could ever articulate. But when he glances over, the older boy looks tired. A little wan, lit up from the twinkling lights below. His voice is little more than a whisper when he finally replies, “You think this is going to free me? You think this will fix anything?” There’s probably more, Battista can see he’d been working himself up into a rant, but he cuts it off there, and stares out at the buildings far below.

     He’s not nervous. A small smile settles into his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes with warm mirth. “If I wanted to fix things, I’d be hanging around someone that’s a little less of a lost cause.” This time when he nudges Ronan, they just lean against each other. “Fixing things is your job, signore politician. Do you want to go back?”

     Ronan’s laugh is dry, and he doesn’t pull his eyes from the city below. A reminder, eh? “No, it’s alright. The breeze is nice up here. You’re right, it’s a nice place to think.”

          He’s seventeen, and idealistic. Ronan doesn’t tell him so. He thinks about that a lot.