#this colour scheme looks very good for him

[abby118]

[lisandyk]

(IDs in alt text)

honestly i have no excuse for this

[meo-eiru]

heyy!! here I am with some more thoughts, this time about Elias.

honestly, for some reason, he seems like a very lonely person to me. you mentioned his will to change himself (and go to extreme lengths in that); also his almost paranoid fear of darling leaving him, (delete all of your contacts except for him, etc) – usually such level of jealousy is a sign of very low self-esteem. dunno if it's true, I just had a feeling that he's super insecure deep down. (he's afraid to look bad in our eyes, remember? to an unhealthy extent.)

and he's so empty. so beautiful on the outside, but so so empty. he loves you, he exists for you, isn't that enough? it isn't. you can't feel genuine affection for someone just because they look good. and Elias knows that! he's actually self conscious (unlike some elf with big tatas), but he can't offer you anything else, which must make him feel even more insecure, because deep down he knows that he won't be able to keep you by his side forever.

actually that will of his to go to extreme lengths for us is pretty frightening. how toxic it can be? depends on the darling! because if you are a normal person, you'd be patient with him, change him, and have a happy ever after and all those boring things. but what if Elias happens to fall in love with an unreasonable and possessive monster?

I feel like he'd go very well with a darling who's yandere for him too. and a stereotypical one at that, who'd want to keep him by their side like a pretty doll. get it? not a life partner, not even a human. a doll, a pretty thing to take care of. they would choose pretty clothes for him, brush his hair, but at the end of the day, he's nothing more but a pretty thing, an object.

I really like the doll metaphor for Elias. (I'm a huge doll lover, I ever have one of that super expensive bjd) dolls are beautiful, but aren't alive. they can't be someone you'd open your heart to; under their shiny porcelain skin, they're hollow.

unlike Silas, Elias is a more tragic character in my eyes. he's willing to carve his bones to whatever shape you desire, because if he isn't validated and noticed by you, he has no value. and you (if you are a normal person) will grow tired and bored of him, sooner or later. he wants to be loved, when there's pretty much nothing to love in him.

unlike Silas, his love can ruin only himself.

(I swear it's not like I want to see him suffer in particular. I'm open to all kinds of despair, pain and sadness, whether it yan's or darling's!)

(also I tried to find his colour scheme, but all I found was you mention his hair, so it's just how I think he looks like.)

DHDKDHDKYS NOT ONLY IS YOUR ANALYZES AMAZING YOU ALSO DREW ELIAS??? AND HOW DID YOU GET HIS COLOR SCHEME SO RIGHT???

I love you thank you god I love asks like yours.

You’re very on point, Elias is like a pretty doll. Beautiful on the outside but completely empty inside, and that beauty is the only thing that gives him any kind of worth. He’s aware of this more than anyone.

He’s not rich, he doesn’t have an amazingly successful career, no hobbies, no specialities, no interests. He’s extremely pathetic and all he can do is pitifully attempt to pull you down to his level.

That’s why committing self harm comes so easily to him even if he doesn’t yearn for it. Endangering himself, his only value, his body, is the only way he can keep you with him. He doesn’t have any power over you he can use against you. He only has this disgustingly and pathetically beautiful body.

He wants to be loved by you, he wants you to be obsessed with him as much as he is with you, but deep down he knows he doesn’t have any qualities that could deserve such love. That is why he leans into his appearance so hard, since the moment he was born that face of his was the only thing that gave him any sort of value.

If you find any part of him ugly he’ll have no choice but to try to fix it even if it completely ruins him. Because he thinks that’s the only way for him to keep your eyes on him. He’s just through and through pathetic. Extremely pitiful.

He would indeed roll well with a yandere reader who treats him like a living doll. Because Elias wants to be values by you, even if it means getting stripped of the little sense of identity he had. He wants you to keep your eyes on him and see him as an object who exists for your satisfaction. Because at the end of the day that is what he is. An empty shell who was unfortunate enough to be born with the ability to love.

Elias’ existence can’t handle his own love. He’ll start breaking from inside out like a doll under pressure. That’s why he needs your reassurance, he needs you to reaffirm his worth. He can’t exist for himself so he needs to exist for you. He might be a beautiful shell of a human but he too can have some sort of value if he’s being used like a tool by you.

But watching you also makes him feel extremely jealous and frustrated. Because you have everything he doesn’t have. You have hobbies, things you enjoy, things you do for yourself, people who stay with you not for your outer shell but for who you are inside. Everything Elias never had and never will.

That’s why he tries so hard to ruin your relationships and threaten you to stay with him, to keep you at his level like a pathetic bug. Because you’re not like him. You can abandon him any day of the week and continue your life like you lost nothing, but Elias isn’t like that. If he loses you he truly will have nothing left.

So please love him, ruin him, break him, treat him right, use him, make him feel alive, give him some sort of value. Please be kind to Elias. He needs you more than anyone on this world

[grandline-fics]

Do you think I can request a seamstress y/n being part of the strawhat crew and how they need to make new outfits for the crew as disguises and when it came to luffys turn, it was kinda difficult for them because they have a huge crush on him and seeing him bare for measurements kills them a little-

Kinda just a sorta oblivious luffy witnessing y/n get flustered a little!

Really curious how you’re going to make it end lol

(Love your writing sm! Thank you for advanced!)

DESCRIPTION: You’re the crew’s seamstress and measuring Luffy leaves you flustered 

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Luffy

WORDS: 934

A/N:  Sorry this took so long but I hope it was worth it and that you like how it all turned out

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

When it came to your passion of designing and making clothes you were unbelievably focussed. It was to the point that if the crew wanted to distract you from something they’d bring up the topic of a new design they had in mind. Some of the crew were more subtle about this tactic than others, for instance when Sanji needed you away from the kitchen for a few hours so he could work on your surprise birthday banquet, Robin expertly brought up a floral skirt and top combination she wanted to wear but couldn’t find the right colour scheme anywhere.

On that occasion you’d gotten so motivated that by the time you were needed for the banquet you had to be physically dragged out of your workshop. Oppositely there was one time Zoro had stolen your dressmaker’s mannequin to test out which angle would be best to attack someone from for his new technique. When you’d found out and went to rescue your possession Zoro had tried the distraction method but merely said ‘buttons’ which only bewildered you for the briefest of moments before you took back what was yours while it was thankfully still in tact. Yes, there was no way your focus could be shaken when it came to your work…well except when it came to your Captain. Your very oblivious Captain. 

You kept telling yourself that it was just a crush, that he didn’t feel that way about you and he was just affectionate and energetic by nature and you were good with that, you really were. The last thing you ever wanted to do was jeopardise the amazing friendship you’d made with Luffy. So you kept your crush to yourself and things continued as normal. The only time things threatened to reveal themselves was at moments like these. The ship was heading into dangerous territory governed by another rival pirate which meant keeping as low a profile as possible and that meant they were depending on you for appropriate disguises. 

“Luffy please just stand still.” You lightly begged, watching your Captain excitedly move about your workspace, touching the bolts of different fabrics and flicking through your design book with glee like it was his very first time in the room when in reality you’d lost count how often his presence had been in and out. At your plea he stopped running his fingers through the soft patterned material that had caught his attention and turned to face you with his usual carefree grin. You sighed in relief and slowly reached for your measuring tape while trying to keep your expression as relaxed as possible. This was always the hard part so you just tried to go as quickly as possible. “Shirt off.”

You had no problem seeing any of the other guys shirtless, yeah most of them were impressive but the only one to get you  to be a shaking, blushing mess was Luffy. When Luffy’s hands moved to his shirt you dropped your gaze away, mostly out of respect but also because you could already hear your heart slamming against your chest and feel your skin begin to heat. When you heard the fabric of his shirt fall on the ground you looked up, trying to keep your gaze focussed on Luffy’s eyes but you couldn’t help but let it drop for the briefest of moments to peek at his impressive physique. Snapping out of it you instructed quickly. “Arms out.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or scowl when Luffy grinned and extended his arms out to you as though inviting you in for a hug as opposed to putting his arms outward so you could accurately measure his frame. You knew it wasn’t his intention to fluster you like this, it was just Luffy being Luffy but it made things so much harder to deal with. Resisting the urge to give in to temptation you took hold of Luffy’s wrist and pulled to manoeuvre him correctly. Quickly you stood behind him and began to lift your tape towards him. With every adventure and fight meant Luffy’s body got only more and more defined and it made measuring him a greater struggle.

It was a relief that you managed to make it through most of the process without making too much of an idiot of yourself but by the end of it all you were beet red and trying to look anywhere but the cause. Through it all Luffy was his happy, oblivious self, talking excitedly about the disguise he wanted but when you stepped away he finally took a proper look at you. “Huh? Are you feeling okay?” He asked, leaning in closer and pressing his hand against your head. However that action meant his still bare chest was against you too which only made your condition worse. “You shouldn’t have been working if you’re sick. I’ll go get Chopper, okay?”

“N-no! I’ll be fine!” Your guilt for making him worry managed to pull you back from your inner spiral. “I’m just…too warm! Something cool to drink and I’ll be back to normal.” You reassured only for Luffy to grin and pull you out of your workshop and straight to the kitchen so you could cool down. Finally feeling more yourself and no longer overheating thanks to Luffy sitting back you could focus on the design. “So you never said what colours you wanted for this disguise, Luffy.”

Luffy blinked at you and gave you a look as though you were the oblivious one. “Well as long as it matches you I’ll be happy.”

[hpdmguy]

ways they show each other love !

loads of rambles + clutter-less version below the cut

the yellow lines highlighting things is actually marking (almost) everywhere they touch since the primary theme of this piece is physical affection! the stars were just for fun

top left (kissing): pretty self explanatory! fun fact, it was the first thing i drew for this piece :)

top middle (hand on back): i was trying to sleep the other night and my brain suddenly went. drarry physical affection and that was the first thing i pictured! i kind of imagined this one as like... dracos stressed or something and harry just puts a nice comforting hand on his back

top right: the good ol pinkie hand hold,, link, ,think. yeah. no real thoughts behind this one. it fit the box and its cute

middle left (speech bubbles): one thing i see a lot (im pretty sure this is ((implied in)) canon as well, but dracos a big yapper! so its kinda showing here that harrys just listening to all hes got to say. probably my favourite one of the lot, i had fun rendering it. (looking at this post i too am a yapper)

middle (orange slices): theres this thing where you peel an orange for the people you love. you can look at it either way; draco providing food for harry, knowing his childhood food insecurity and always wanting to make sure he has something, or harry (whose love language is acts of service) giving something to draco, maybe after a long day

watermarked middle (draco constellation): just some fun symbolism i thought i might try to fit in

middle right (legs): in this theyre just chilling. dracos reading (the book didnt come across well ((i cant draw hands very well)).

right edge (flowers): these are narcissus flowers, also known as daffodils. a reference to narcissa malfoy, and also a reference i suppose to how she saved harry in the forest, because draco was alive, because harry saved him in the room of requirement

bottom left edge (flowers): these are lilies. partly to complete the circle of mothers saving sons saving the world, and partly because i wanted to fill space. (theyre fucking terrible to draw tho i do not recommend)

bottom left (hand in hair): well harrys hair is very luxurious as you can see and i imagine during cuddles draco cards his hand through it and teases out snarls and such. (i know hair pulling is something that can be seen as sexual, this isnt that and it isnt meant to be that and please dont see it as that :(

bottom watermark (stag): harrys patronus because why not

bottom middle: so this is a bit obscure but theres this post by @/iamnmbr3 that talks about a headcanon that they can share wands and its kind of special and intimate. so thats what ive depicted here. also for funsies harry has the draco constellation on his arm. not the big dipper. also i cant draw the dark mark for shit

bottom right (shoes): just a subtle way they can touch, not always big. just under the table or sitting on the sofa together, just to feel the other person there.

i knew i wanted a warm scheme and i knew i wanted orange and blue to play a big part in this. i was going to have warm colours on blue and cool colours on orange as a sort of contrast but that didnt end up working out.. the wand scene is an attempt at it except i mixed it up and made it cool on cool, its so washed out and i didnt bother to fix it

[frenshushutoast]

minghao as your boyfriend

notes: happy new year! my first post in a Long time but here's to more writing in 2024... let's do this!

lots of quiet moments together. even in loud, crowded rooms, minghao still finds a way to give you little moments of solace with a hand in yours and quiet, whispered conversations.

art gallery dates! so many art gallery dates. every time a new one opens, you're equally excited to go visit. sometimes you'll both quietly share your interpretations of the different pieces with each other, and sometimes you'll just bask in the beauty of the creations and simply being able to experience it together.

very endeared by you. you will simply exist and he'll let out his soft giggle, burying his face in your shoulder, pinching your cheeks, and kissing all over your face when you guys are alone together. you're confused when he first does it, asking what you did for him to be so impossibly fond. he just responds with a you're so cute, baby and it makes you far more flustered than you're willing to admit.

very protective over you. not because he thinks you're weak–you're one of the strongest people he knows–but he's very gentle with you anyways. he does everything he can to make sure you don't get hurt, and is very, very attentive to you. you've been doing everything yourself for so long, he just wants to take care of you.

you're both a very fashionable couple. long trench coats, nail designs, matching colour schemes. everybody is intimidated by you until they catch you giggling together in a corner.

loves having you in his lap. he'll wrap his hands around your waist and rest his cheek on your shoulder, quietly telling you how much he appreciates everything about you.

he will casually say the most devastating things, randomly, while he traces little shapes on your hip. baobei, i'd give you all the stars if you ask. you're my warm patch of sunlight, my safe space. everything slows down when i'm with you. little i love you's scattered all over the things he says to you.

he gets uncharacteristically shy when you compliment him. the first time you do it, it's when he got his nails done differently and you told him it was pretty and his ears went very red. you've taken advantage of it ever since.

takes you on romantic dinner dates, well thought out and so, so perfect.

he teaches you how to slow dance, even through all the times you accidentally step on his foot. he twirls you and kisses you so sweetly, you could turn to putty in his hands.

a Very good kisser. i could expand on this but the brain worms are simply too strong. but he's Good with his tongue. the first time you really kiss him, you pull away very breathless and tell him just that. the only thing he answers you with is a small smug smile and a gentle peck, so different from the heated makeout session.

takes the best photos of you and hypes you up while he does it. the only reason your instagram feed looks so good is because of his amazing photography skills.

[doodlesandbooks]

I was inspired by @sham-w0w's sketch of her versions of the avatars and wanted to have my own go XD -please go and check out her lovely art :)

design notes under the cut:

Names:

I chose a name for f!robin that was bird based and had the same number of syllables, and that ended in an N and started with R, hence ‘Ravan’

Male Corrin has their Japanese name: 'Kamui'

Bylee is a pet name that my sister gave her f!byleth when she first played through 3 houses (other options included Byres or Beresu since that was her name in Japanese, but I preferred Bylee.)

I couldn't think of a good name for her so eventually I put the Japanese kanji of their name into google translate. It came up with Chez, so I've gone with it! XD

The name Luear, was a combination of their Japanese name Luere and their English name Alear.

Robin:

I gave both Robins a Validar/aversa skin tone, but gave Ravan the fringe and eye bags that my favourite design of f!robin has. I kept her pigtails though because they’re pretty integral to the characters silhouette. I also gave her a slightly darker shade of hair since in FEwarriors, she has a grey hair tone.

My character customisations of male robin (left) female robin (right)

FE Warriors Anna's momento 1 for hair colour reference

Aversa and validar's portraits for skin tone reference

Corrin:

I love them both so I kept them pretty similar to the usual designs. I did make him a bit younger since his design is based off of his younger option whereas her's is based off of the older option. I also gave him a hoshidan earring because I thought it looked cute and he tends to represent the hoshidan route. I also like to give them lil sharp dragon teef because they deserve it.

My customisation choices for both Corrins

Byleth:

for the byleths i made them both look slightly blue in complexion because of their hearts not really working. Both of them have some pale and some dark hair and part pale part dark eyes. I gave f!byleth more of the paler colouration since I tend to only play her myself on blue lions or azure gleam, so she always has that colour scheme. He also has the darker hair in engage so it seemed fitting to do it that way round. I love them both so I wanted to draw them both pretty close to the original.

Shez:

Shez has a design that I have a love hate relationship with, on the one hand, I appreciate how silly it is, on the other hand, it is ridiculous. However, purple and orange is a solid colour scheme. I really love how they both look in their powered up form, so I have given them elements of that in their base design.

f!Shez's very layered fringe vs un-layered main section of hair really bothers me, so I have given her a shorter hair cut... also freckles because I love freckles and I thought they suited her.

Alear:

I kept both the Alear designs very similar to the original, except for male Alear's eyes, which I've given a darker colour.

In the fell Xenologue, the only time we see his face, Xenologue Alear is in shadow, hence the darker eye colour, I also gave him one of my favourite silly accessories from the DLC - the single earring! XD

[honeydazai]

hai! can I get 'doing their makeup for them' with nikolai pls?

Nikolai + 'doing their makeup for them'

milestone drabble event! 🪻

join my tag list here! 🪻

“You have awfully pretty eyes.”

The words spill from your lips so very easily; after all, they're the truth. Leaning against him with one hand on his shoulder, your faces mere centimeters apart, you're able to get a particularly good look at just how stunning they are, shining in blue and yellow.

“Thanks.” Nikolai's smile is a little too wide, fraying at the edges. “You're supposed to concentrate on my makeup, though. Don't lose focus, now.”

You scoff. “I can multi-task just fine.” As if to prove your words, you add more mascara to his lashes, movements slow and gentle. “See?”

“I always do your makeup so carefully, though.” He pushes his lips forward into a pout, entirely too dramatic. “At least give the same effort back. Otherwise you're mean, you know?”

“I am making an effort”, you protest, eyebrows knitting together in mock unhappiness, “It literally looks so good. Take a look yourself if you don't believe me, but it's not like I didn't do just fine on your other eye.”

Nikolai merely hums in response — though that at least means he's not complaining anymore. Instead, the atmosphere shifts into something peaceful. Your palm cups his cheek, gently holding it to stop him from moving and messing your work up, and he leans into the touch, more cat than person.

Black goes with the colour scheme of his chosen outfit; it's a reasonable first guess, although Nikolai sighs as though it is not.

The quiet does not last for long; only until after you've peppered some glitter onto his lids.

“Quiz time”, Nikolai sing-songs, white bangs falling into his face as he moves, “What colour of eyeliner do you think I want to wear today?”

“Wrong. A shame. Ah, but — you know what? I'll let you guess again. Aren't I kind?”

“Very.” You squint at him, your head tilted to the side in a curious manner. It's not like there's an overwhelming amount of options; red and white are his other two most used colours, and white is closest. You pick mostly by random.

Nikolai makes a triumphant noise; before you're able to reach for the corresponding pen, he presses his lips to yours, the gloss on them sticky. You let out a soft noise, eyes fluttering shut, though he's already pulling back again, smirk mischievous.

“Continue, sweetheart.”

Jerk.

Still, you drag the felt tip over his eyelids, going for a cat-eye look; the very moment you're done, a mirror suddenly appears between the two of you, the power of The Overcoat, and Nikolai coos at his reflection, apparently in awe.

You try your best not to feel too smug. It's rather difficult when he's literally swooning. Then, sharp eyes snap back to you, determination sparking inside.

“Alright; it's my turn, now. Lean back, doll.”

notes: I WASN'T SURE IF THIS MEANT DOING HIS OR HIM DOING YOUR MAKEUP SO NOW IT'S KIND OF. BOTH??

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[pocket-watcher]

The following is a collab between myself and the amazing @blissful23 !

Ding-Dong

The doorbell sounded and Suzie looked up from styling her long, blonde hair in the mirror. This always happens when she’s just getting ready to go out! She had readjusted the shirt she had “borrowed” from her roommate, as it was slightly too tight, checked her eyeliner was even for the 50th time, and was just finishing her lipstick with a satisfied pop.

She sighed frustratedly, stood up, and made her way to the source of the offending sound. Opening the front door, she was greeted by a man she’d never seen before. Dark hair and - oh God - a curled moustache framed a sharp featured face, adorned with a rather ostentatious top hat. Finely attired in a black suit, jacket resplendent with coattails, he gave a slight bow in greeting. It took all her willpower not to outright laugh in the face of this antiquity standing before her.

“Good day ma’am, it’s a fine afternoon, is it not?”

She stood, arms crossed in exaggerated frustration, staring back at him.

“How can I help you… Sir?”

She put the extra emphasis on that last word, wishing him to know quite pointedly that she was being interrupted. He smiled in return - whether it was sincere or strained in response to her standoffishness, she couldn’t tell.

“Well, you see my dear, I’m selling these very fine pocketwatches.”

With exaggerated flourish, he swept his coat open, revealing a dazzling array of pocketwatches hanging on the inside of it. He held it in place, and as if by magic - more likely the momentum of him opening his coat, she thought to herself - each of the pocketwatches begun swinging in unison. Probably a bit of showmanship designed to wow a potential customer, but still, it was fascinating to watch as they swung back and forth, back… and forth… back…

Suzie shook her head, dispelling a sudden onset of light-headedness, and redressed her gaze to The Salesman. He pulled his coat closed and smiled once more. A little less sure of her cold reception to him initially, she spoke again.

“Those are very lovely, but… I have no real need of a pocketwatch.” She said, gesturing to her phone.

“Ah, but my dear, you didn’t even take notice of our finest model!”

She bristled inwardly at being addressed as “my dear” again, and fixed her gaze to the pocketwatch he was now dangling in front of her face. It was silver, hooked by a long thin strap. The outer shell had some sort of pattern cut out of it to reveal the clock face behind, but with the shell popped open she couldn’t quite tell what was meant to be on the front. The spindling hands on the clock ticked away excitedly.

“Look at this gorgeous embedded crystal, and how it changes in the light! Let me swing it so you can see how it changes colour in the light…”

As he began swinging it from side to side, her jaw almost instantly fell agape at the sight of it, finding herself unable to draw her soft, blue eyes away from it.

"So many colours! Which colour do you prefer?" 

It was so hard to decide. So many splendid, beautiful colours to pick from. She tried to follow them as they shifted moment to moment. It was hard to think of a favourite. So hard to think… was all Suzie’s mind could muster for the moment, her thoughts, plans for the day, all of them fading away, replaced by her fascination with the tantalising kaleidoscope dancing before her eyes.

"I, uhh.... c-colours..."

The Salesman smiled wide. It wasn’t always this easy, but they all ended up this way eventually.

"Yes, pretty colours... and as each one shines, your worries and cares fade just that little bit more..."

Not having to think and just being able to enjoy the colours did sound nice to Suzie. Joyous, even; and she allowed herself a little giggle at the suggestion. She tried to help him how wonderful that sounded, but her mind was already so devoid of thought, all she could utter was:

"Hee-hee… colours...!"

Knowing he had her right where he wanted her, The Salesman followed on with his scheme.

“Can you hear the ticking? No? Maybe you should invite me inside where it’s quieter so you can really focus in on the sound…”

Had she heard the ticking? She wasn’t sure. Probably best to listen to him. A dull, errant thought in the back of Suzie’s near-blank mind warned that this was a bad idea, but was immediately overruled by the obedient thrall she found herself in.

"Uhhh… Won't you... nghh... won't you... please come in..."

“My dear, I thought you’d never ask…”

—

As he stepped through the doorway, another voice could be heard deeper inside.

“Suzie? You haven’t seen my top, have you? The low-cut one with the ruffles - oh.”

Suzie’s roommate Miranda - a stunning redhead - entered the room. Always a favourite, those, The Salesman thought to himself. She stopped upon seeing him eyeing her.

“Uh… hello. And you are?” Miranda asked, curiously, confused at the way Suzie stood there smiling blankly at her.

“He’s… He sells… pocketwatches…” Suzie answered for the strange man.

“Yes, and I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance. Would you like to take a look, my dear?”

“No, thank you. We,” Miranda looked sternly at Suzie, “are actually running late. So if you’ll excuse us…”

Suzie didn’t move, however. As Miranda went to grab her arm she simply smiled up at her.

“But… They’re so pretty…” She said, as if she struggled with every word.

The Salesman pulled out the watch. “See for yourself.”

Miranda looked at him, exacerbated, before huffing, turning back to Suzie in confusion. 

“Come on. We’re leaving.”

"But they’re so pretty..." Suzie whined. “Just take a closer look. You know you want to…”

Miranda looked. She couldn’t see anything special about this pocketwatch. Though, truth be told, she was struggling to take in any of the details as she tried to follow it with her hazel eyes. If only this guy would stop swinging it in front of her… back… and forth… and…

“What, are you trying to hypnotise me into buying one or something?” She laughed. But, then, she thought…

Looking at her usually headstrong friend standing quietly with her eyes tracking the watch’s every movement, everything seemed to click into place.

“Aha… w-wait. You’re not… You’re not actually trying to… right…?” 

Miranda was getting nervous, hiding it behind laughter. No. Of course he wasn’t. Hypnosis wasn’t real.

“My God, you are trying to hypnotise… me, aren’t you? And what have you done to Suzie? I’ve had enough of this, please leave.”

The Salesman frowned at this, placing his watch back inside of his jacket. She was going to be tougher. Luckily, he liked a challenge. Reaching into his jacket once more, his fingers brushed along the watches until he found… yes. Perfect.

“But my dear, you haven’t seen our Timepiece de Resistance…” He pulled out a small golden watch. Its chain was more detailed than the other, with a texture almost like woven vines. The numbers were roman numerals. Or were they? Miranda couldn’t tell. 

Shit. She’d been staring at it, hadn’t she?

Miranda covered her eyes and turned away,

“We call it that because it’s the Timepiece that causes all your resistance to melt away…”

His voice was deep in her brain now. It was so… so tempting to look back at him. And Suzie’s pleasant hums of approval weren’t helping.

“No, I won’t… you’re not going to… hypno… hypnotise… me…” Miranda managed, looking up to see Suzie had walked over to her. 

“Go on… just a little look… it would feel so good, Miranda…” Suzie spoke softly, almost dreamlike.

Then another thought hit her. If Suzie could sneak up on her, this guy could be anywhere! She had to check for certain if he was still between them and the door. 

She looked up at him and her attention was captured by the watch once more.

“Get… get out…” Miranda said as firmly as she could manage.

“Please calm down… You don’t need to be so on edge, so angry… Maybe you didn’t get enough sleep last night…”

Her eyes started to droop. All this fighting was exhausting. The only easy thing right now was keeping her eyes on that watch.

“No, I… I don’t need to… sleep… I’m completely…” She tried to stifle a yawn “… Awake…”

“We both know that’s not true, my dear… Look at you. You’re struggling to stay awake. You can barely keep your eyes open…”

Her hands, once balled into fists, were now relaxed and hung limply by her side. Miranda found herself struggling to keep her eyes open.

“No… I’m not - yawn - sleepy…”

The man approached her, guiding her over to the couch, where Suzie had, at some point, also had found herself.

“There’s no need to fight it anymore… You want to give in to it… You want to surrender to slumber…”

“Surrender… to slumber…” Miranda felt a smile grow on her own face as she repeated after him, her weary eyelids now stuck at half-mast. 

“That’s it…” He looked at his pocket watch. Another job well done.

“Well, ladies, it appears I may have lost track of time.” He chuckled, leading the girls to giggle mindlessly… although, they weren’t quite sure why they were laughing. But Master was so funny, wasn’t he?

“I’ll just leave this here.” The Salesman said as he placed a business card on the coffee table in front of them. “In case you know anyone else who might appreciate my services, hm?” 

He watched as Suzies head slowly slumped onto Miranda’s shoulders, both girls blissfully asleep. He straightened his hat, closed the door behind him, and moved onto the next house.

[cherllyio]

The Hypocrisy/Irony of Li Jing

Li Jing is an antagonist who quite literally dresses himself up as the "Hero", and whom is a weird mix of both the Lady bone Demon and Azure Lion.

First of all his colour scheme turquoise, is a colour often related to The Celistial Realm.

Notice how in the monkie kid crews "celistial realm outfits", the only colour they all have in common is turquoise.

Not even The Jade Emperor dressed himself in that much turquoise (he didnt even wear it at all). Which just goes to show how Li Jing views himself.

He even plans to become The new Jade Emperor, and will not have ANYONE stop him. (even if they arent even trying to stop him in the first place-)

Hell, as i talked about in my theory of how he might have impriossoned Nüwa, he and the rest of Celistal Realms biggest flaw is their intense focus on order.

Nezha's intense work habit in season 3 - 4 is big example of this, mixed with how accurate Azure was about the whole celistial realm system.

But honestly Li Jing just takes it to another LEVEL.

I swear, if he starts talking to Nezha about how he has: " Left his job in the Celistial Realm for the monkie kid crew"(aka leaving his "destiny"), we can very well perspectiv it back to THE LADY BONE DEMON, and her intense focus on "ORDER".

But as @lunamikobrony2 mentioned in my theory mentioned earlier:

The villians (aka. LBD and Azure Lion), have this way of wanting a "new and perfect order".

But as we saw with espically Azure Lion: Power corrups.

Azure Lion turned so quickly from: " The Jade Emepror is a fraud" to "Kneel before your emperor", in a matter of MINUTES.

Li Jing is very clearly going to do the same thing. He might even kill things he viwes as "imperfect", if we really want to make it 100% clear, that this man is A LOT like LBD.

And thats just the Hypocrisy.

The thing that honestly first caught my attention was how ironic his characther was set up VS the actual villians of the show.

Because even though both the 9 headed demon, and the 100 eyed demon were both shown in the trailer, LI JING, was the one clearly shown as the most "villianous", or atleast "antagonistic"

He is literally shown WORSE than two DEMONS. And some demons with some quite horrifying designs too i must say.

It honestly reminds me of how Belos, from the owl house, was also set up this way.

If you dont know, The Owl House takes place in quite literally the closest thing we got to Hell.

But is the scariest monster a demon, or a powerful evil witch?

No, the scariest guy is white cishet man from the 1600, dressed in the gold, who also thinks he is quite literally the messias. But in the end he becomes quite literally "The King of Demons."

(Watch a video about Belos it here, its amazing)

But, what is my point with this post? What do i want to tell?

Well my entire point with this is to point out how their is such a faint line between good and evil in this show.

And this is just scratching the surface of it. Because if this keeps being proven right in season 5, I will make an entire analysis video about this after the new season is out.

Where I will also be looking at Wukongs journey from an anti-villian to a hero.

The Celistial Realm VS The Mortal Realm VS The Underworld.

Nezha's philosophy vs Li jings philosphy and their entire relationshsip.

And a lot of other stuff, and how this is the reason for why this show is so amazing.

[live-laugh-lenney]

You should so do a fic where the reader has a podcast (like saving grace) and everyone noticed how comparable she and Arthur seem he. He’s a guest (even though she’s like much more extroverted) would be fun🤞❤️

oh, this would be so cute :'))

if there was one thing yn felt comfortable doing, it was waffling.

she just loved to talk. about anything and everything, from what she had read on twitter to what she had heard about online to a brand new documentary that she had taken an interest in when flicking the channels on the television. delving deep into topics that had endless possibilities, spewing off facts that she'd read about online and putting her own thoughts forward in certain aspects that she found interesting and favourable to whoever she was with.

when she came up with the idea of hosting her very own podcast, in the middle of a housewarming party for one of her friends, she was excited to have a platform where she could let her own thoughts be freed yet she was also terrified it wouldn't take off and that she'd make it to a respectful ten episodes before she gave in and decided it wasn't something that the world needed.

when her first episode came out, she had asked james marriott to be her very first guest. one of her best friends, someone she had known for a while, someone who she felt comfortable around and gave her the space to speak freely without making her feel judged. allowing him to promote his new album as well as allowing them to discuss all kinds of musical knowledge from who their favourite bands were and who he would love to open for on a world tour.

and it took off.

earning herself over half a million views in the passing of one day, a lot of youtube subscribers who were offering their own suggestions on the different guests she could have and the more positivity she saw, the more she read, the more excited she was to continue.

she had herself a sweet studio; big beanbags instead of chairs, with a blanket draped over the back of each one and a decorative pillow that was there for added comfort and matched the colour scheme of the whole room, with shelves nailed to the wall full of relatable objects and images that fit her branding - images of her friends, her podcast name in neon lights and a few faux plants that hung low. it was just a simple setup but it felt homely and that was the vibe she had planned from the very beginning.

"good morning, good afternoon or good evening, depending on when you're checking in. i'm yn and welcome back to the one and only podcast on youtube dot com where we just sit and talk shit for an hour," she grins widely at the camera, cosying back into the beanbag beneath her and crossing her legs, hand holding the microphone to her lips, "today, we're joined the king of 90 day fiancé. it's mister arthur television."

"hello, hi."

he gives the camera a short wave and smiles widely, already having cosied himself down in a similar manner to the way yn was sitting in her beanbag, their shoes (both a sucker for comfort and choosing their air force 1's over any other trainer) kicked off aimlessly onto the rug in the middle of the room and left in a heap, his jacket draped over the back of his seat.

"thank you for having me," he looks in her direction, "this is definitely one of my favourite sets i've ever been on. it feels so homey and wholesome."

"i tried to base it on what my bedroom back home used to look like as a teenager," she giggles softly, looking over her shoulder and flicking on the orb lamp that was placed on a shelf above their heads for a bit of additional lighting to fit the ambience of the room, "i was such a tumblr girl growing up, i think it shows."

"i was gon'a say," he laughs and she rolls her eyes in his direction, "it feels very nice. very comforting. especially with the blankets."

"my nana knitted them for me," yn states, "just for this podcast. she's an avid listener, my number one fan, ."

"really?"

"no. i'm kidding," yn laughs softly and he looks across to her, "i don't think she really gets the whole podcast thing, to be honest. she's only just started to understand the whole youtube thing, bless her. she's a sweet soul and i love her but she's so innocent when it comes to all things technological."

"you should use that story more," arthur insists and adjusts himself in the seat as he felt himself sliding down into a slouch, "it adds more story to the setup. it's cute."

"i'll tell her you said that. she'll love it," yn giggles, 'but, anyway. you, arthur frederick, are one of my most requested guests to appear on my podcast."

arthur's eyes widened and he can feel the heat covering his cheeks as he looks across to her, microphone still held tight to his lips, hoping it hid the shy smile that grew on his lips.

"seriously. i had people practically spamming me on twitter to get you on here," she explains and looks at the camera, "you're a loved man, aren't you?"

"i guess i am," he admits shyly, "people are also asking me and isaac to get you on the bach and arthur podcast. close second to george."

"we'll have to make that happen," yn grins widely, "the viewers would love that crossover. chaos crew and little ol' me."

"i think you'd fit in perfectly," he says, "at least i'll have someone on there that appreciates my facts and interesting tidbits of information. it gets lost amongst them. they're not so intelligent when it comes to you and i."

she snorts and shakes her head, dropping her eyes down to her lap before she looks back up; he wasn't lying, truth be told. she was no stranger to being in a conversation with him, at parties and at events both of them were attending, that involved exchanged fact after fact after fact with each other, hours passing by as they discussed nature topics and the newest piece of information to do with outer space and all the theories coming from online.

with the hour closing in, she didn't want the conversations to end. and she knew, in the back of her mind, that she needed him back on her podcast for another episode because he understood her. and she understood him. and their talks flowed effortlessly with no need for extra encouragement from those around them in the room.

he was an interesting man and she wanted more.

both personally and for her podcast.

--

anyone else getting heart eye vibes from the two of them???

yn was in her element for this episode!!

arthur being on this podcast just made my day. we need more of the two of them!!!

the way there was no silence at all this entire episode. conversations flow between these two.

the two of them are the same person, i swear.

without a doubt, arthur is the male version of yn. that's adorable.

its like the universe copied and pasted their personalities into two people of the opposite genders. that's so cute!!

--

"the podcast episode was a hit thanks to you."

yn surprises him and made him jump as she approached him at the bar, his figure turning from where he was stood with his back to her so he could pull her in for a hug, and she grins up at him before her own arms wrapped around his waist. a sex on the beach cocktail held tight in her hand and she was careful not to spill it down the back of his shirt.

"i was wondering where you were," he says and lets go of her to pick up his beer that had been placed on the bartop, "when you texted me to say you were coming to chris' birthday drinks, i knew i had to come and find you when you arrived."

"looks like i beat you to it," she says and she takes a sip of her drink through the straw, "people loved the two of us together on there."

"yeah?"

she nods quickly.

"i'm pretty sure it was the best episode to date. figures wise," she says and he grins widely, looking over her shoulder and seeing a free table in the corner of the room, using his head to indicate for her to look at where he was looking, "i'm gon'a need you to feature again, for sure."

she turns on her heels and wiggles her way through the crowd, the feeling of his hand resting on the base of her back driving her insane as she set her drink down on the table and hopped up on the stool, watching as he did the same.

"i'm not keeping you from chris, am i?"

"no, he's about to hop on the karaoke with isaac," arthur cackles out loud and looks over his shoulder at where his two friends were arguing over the song book, "i'm too sober for that at the moment so I can't think of anything worse right now."

"you're not one of those party poopers, are you?"

"no," he shakes his head, "i just need to be almost blackout drunk in order to belt out my lungs really, really poorly."

"i think i need to get some shots in you then because i really need to see that tonight." xx

[empressofthewind]

Ranking All Of Matt's Aesthetics

#1 - Fanon Aesthetic (Red Hair x Black & White Shirt)

I believe this combo was the fandom consensus for years while his only canon appearance was from the greyscale manga. This is the only one on this list that doesn't appear in any canon or canon-adjacent material, yet it's the only colour scheme I actually associate with him. Love it, absolutely iconic, there's a reason why it's stuck around so long. 10/10

(Image found here by Chibionpu on DeviantArt!!)

#2 - Anime Aesthetic (Brown Hair x Black & Red Shirt)

I've seen some people say his hair is green here, but there's another appearance that looks much more obviously green to me, so I'm counting it as brown. I like this aesthetic a lot! It's less distinctive than the red hair x b&w shirt, but the colour palette works well and I like the way this particular shade of brown complements the amber hue of his goggles. 9/10

#3 - Trading Card Aesthetic (Green Hair x Black & Red Shirt)

This one comes from the trading cards, and I think the green hair looks surprisingly good! I respect the creativity and I think this is the most visually interesting look on the list. Where it loses marks for me is in the overall lack of consistency; the bright green hair, orange goggles and red shirt just don't mix particularly well. However I'm very fond of forest green and I'm always a little weak for artificial hair colours in general. Very swag. 7/10

#4 - Coloured Manga Aesthetic (Black Hair x Black & Red Shirt)

This is from the unofficial coloured manga. Honestly I think it's the most coherent aesthetic of them all (the black boots + black hair + black stripes) and I much prefer the bold red to the dusky hue of the anime & trading card shirts. I just find it a little underwhelming on the whole. It's a safe option lacking any real personality or flair. 5/10

#5 - DS Game Aesthetic (Blue Hair x Blue & White Shirt)

This is from the Successor to L DS game. It gets points for uniqueness, but that’s really all this look has going for it. It's incredibly difficult to go wrong with blue, but they somehow managed to pick what I would subjectively call the only two bad shades of it in existence. He looks like a young man cosplaying a middle-aged mad scientist. 2/10

#6 - Anime Guidebook Aesthetic (Brown Hair x No Goggles)

Who the fuck is that. -1000/10

[r-2-peepoo]

I honestly aspire to be the specific kind of messy bitch that Obi Wan Kenobi is. I mean that dude is barely hanging on but you would literally never know from looking at him. He has a signature look. The hair, the beard, the knee high boots. And he has a colour scheme for his wardrobe and it is working for him. Not everyone can pull off such a severe amount of beige but he can. He has a very specific aesthetic which I can only describe as sexy karate instructor and part time cowboy (I can see him pulling off cowboy boots) and he sticks to it. Maybe he’ll switch up his hair once and a while but he knows what works for him because when you look that good, no one can tell you are seconds from having a mental breakdown and I have nothing but respect for it.

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Lived My Whole Life Before the First Light

Omg here we are. At the end. I'm sad, I've been having such a blast with you guys this week! But all good things... Anyway, this is a strange one, rambling and mournful but hopefully with some sweetness. I hope it makes you feel things, I hope it gives you something, I hope we part on this final day of Painland Week as friends and confidants 💛 Huge, huge thanks to the organisers of Painland Week for putting this magical event together! Special love on this day goes out to @mellxncollie , who has been creating amazing gifs all week and has made beautiful ones for this very fic. It's been so so wonderful to collab with you and everyone should go and look at these wonderful creations at ONCE. Warnings for canonical character death (sorry, Charles) and the stuff that comes with it (i.e. refs to bullying/hatecrimes), non-graphic injury description, and just general mournful grief vibes all round. But hopeful ending bc let's face it, we all know how this played out! 7.3k, M-rated, available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

"Colour! What a deep and mysterious language. The language of dreams."

~ Paul Gauguin

Edwin Payne had always possessed a thirst for knowledge. As a child, he'd wished to learn just about everything there was to learn — every fact in every field. He'd been told, many times, that he could live to be a hundred years old, and still not have enough hours to do so.

Edwin had most certainly not lived to be a hundred. But he supposed that if you added his sixteen years of life to his seventy-three of death, he was getting rather close.

The dead years, however, had been far from conducive to study. Knowledge was hard to come by in Hell. Found either in burnt and bloodied books scavenged from individual damnations, or delivered in the form of cruel trials. He'd been taught a lesson or two in his time, but not on anything so polite and pedestrian as geometry. Edwin's key area of personal study in Hell had been one thing, and one thing only: how to escape from it.

It had taken seven decades, a slew of disembowelments and innumerable failed attempts, but at last he'd passed his final exam with merit. Or at least, a version of him had. But there wasn't much to be done for his original self, whose body lay mouldering on the dollhouse floor beneath a thousand savaged duplicates.

Best not to dwell on it.

He supposed he should have been upset about where the door to Hell spat him out. Not many people would be happy to return to the place where they'd met their untimely, violent demise. But to Edwin, after a small infinity in the blackest pit, stepping back into St. Hilarion's hallowed halls felt like greeting an old friend. Well, friend might be a tad generous. More of an acquaintance, or perhaps a second cousin one barely tolerated. Not a person one enjoyed spending time with, but nonetheless a familiar face.

For a day or so he'd wandered about in a bit of a daze, glancing over his shoulder for any sign he'd been followed from the depths. He'd drunk in every familiar feature, and puzzled over the unfamiliar ones. It was a small change in the grand scheme of things, but he suspected they'd replaced the drapes. They were a lighter grey now than they had been in his time. He wondered what colour they'd chosen — or for that matter, what colour they were in the first place. He'd never thought to ask.

Then on his second day of wandering, he'd stumbled across the old library. And that, for several weeks, had been that.

He'd probably had dreams about this, in his youth. Dreams of being left to his own devices, surrounded by books. All the information he could inhale, with no interruptions. Not even from the other boys. Their voices had startled him a few times, and he was always wary when a gaggle of them descended on the library. But he'd quickly realised that none of them could see him, and so long as he turned the pages quietly, he was free to continue his reading unmolested.

And he did so, continuously, for days. Not even boring old human restrictions like hunger, tiredness or eye strain could stop him now. He read everything he could get his hands on, brushed up on everything, filling in the gaps of the last decades. On the future that had been robbed from him, subsiding into history while his back was turned. He'd sat in his own shellshock when he read not only about how the so-called 'war to end all wars' had concluded, but also how little time had passed before the next one. He'd blushed and skimmed the pages pertaining to the nineteen-sixties free love movement. He'd gazed, thunderstruck, at the moon through the library window; wondering what the Earth must have looked like to the man they put up there.

All these years he'd been trapped in the gutters at the deepest depths of suffering, reaching up towards the light; all that time, humanity had been reaching, too. Up, up and up, all the way to the stars.

It became habit, after that, to gaze at the moon in between books and chapters. An opportunity to gather his thoughts on what he'd just read, to file away the facts, to jot down the most pertinent in his notebook. It was rather a meditative process.

Or at least it had been, until the night he'd seen something else beneath that moon. Something tragically earthbound amidst the gently illuminated greys of the grounds. A hunched and trembling shape against the trees, lurching by Edwin's window. A boy, on the run — his pursuers baying for blood like wolves at his heels.

They could put a man on the moon, but some things never changed.

It would be the first time Edwin had left the library since re-discovering it. Holding aloft the pilfered lantern he'd been using to read into the night, he trod carefully through the darkened corridors. The majority of staff and students were in dorms or common rooms by now, voices a soft patter, bleeding with the light under the doors. No one marked Edwin, or came to investigate the lantern floating past. Though some extinguished their own lights and hushed their voices, mistaking him for a warden. Edwin didn't wish to scare anyone, but he drew some comfort from it. He'd grown tired of being pounced upon in long, black, twisting hallways. How comforting for once to be the root of fear and not merely its captive.

Edwin had to search a little while, but he was already familiar with the best hiding places. It wasn't long before he was creeping up to the attic, minding his ghostly tread upon the stairs. He didn't wish to cause alarm, or send the boy deeper into hiding thinking his assailants had found him.

He crossed the threshold, and at once heard a shuddering intake of breath as the harsh white aura of his lantern bounced off the walls. He supposed there was no disguising the glow. He hung back a moment, conflicted. All he wanted was to offer some light and warmth, but perhaps a floating lantern would be a sight too much for the terrified boy. Well, it was too late for that, now. He stepped into the room proper, peering past the flare of his lantern to the source of the sound. A shivering bundle on the floor, tucked into a nook behind the shelves. Trying to be as small as possible and, by and large, succeeding.

Wide, hunted eyes stared into the light. A voice, low and wary, spoke.

"What do you want?"

It was then that Edwin realised the eyes weren't looking into the light. They were looking at him. He glanced behind himself, just to make sure, but he wasn't mistaken. "You can see me?"

It was also when he noticed something equally perplexing happening to the light. It had started to look... less white. No, in fact it no longer looked white at all, but it had not dimmed, and it bore no resemblance to any shade of grey Edwin had ever seen. It was... he didn't even have the language to describe it. If he had to choose a word, he could only say it looked warm. He'd never seen anything like it. Not in seventy years of Hell, nor in his life before. It simply defied description.

He tore his gaze from it. There were more pressing matters to attend to. "I... I thought this lantern might help," he said, still dumbfounded. He approached, with care — this boy was clearly a victim in this circumstance, but there was a defensive set to his jaw. A wild look in his eyes. A creature caught in a trap was as liable to bite a rescuer as an attacker. "You can simply extinguish it if those boys come up here."

The guarded expression cracked, vulnerability bleeding through. As Edwin drew closer, he noticed that the strange new quality of the light was reflected where it hit the boy. There were notes of something else beneath the pallid grey tones of his skin, something richer. Just as something beyond simple black glistened in his enormous eyes.

"You saw them?" the boy rasped.

"I did. I went to school here a long time ago." Edwin knelt before him, bringing the light closer to the lad’s face and marvelling, quietly, at the strange tones that sprang into sharp relief. Whoever this young man was, Edwin's very perception of the world appeared to be shifting in his presence. "We had bullies, too."

He looked so weak, curled up and trembling. He certainly wasn't weak, Edwin suspected that much. Peeking out from beneath the blanket were shoes and trousers of a kind he'd seen these modern boys wearing out on the sports pitch. The lad was no delicate flower, but at this moment, at the mercy of his wounds, he was helpless.

And if he could see Edwin... then his fate was already sealed.

Edwin looked at the boy levelly, at the fear in his strange eyes. He'd seen that fear upon countless faces these last seventy years, on the wretched souls crying out for respite from their torment. He'd worn a similar expression some decades ago, when a careless act of cruelty had damned him, too.

"Rest assured," he said, gently, offering the lantern. "I shan't hurt you."

He could see the moment the boy decided to believe him. His shoulders slumped, his breath escaped in a rattle of relief. He reached out from his blanket shell, and flashed a sliver of that curiously saturated skin at his shoulder. Against the stark white of the sleeveless vest he wore, the difference was now undeniable. Not grey, not white, but something altogether different. Like his eyes, like the metal at his throat and ear that glimmered in the lamplight. Tones Edwin had never seen before, couldn't even name.

It couldn't be...

"Cheers, mate," said the boy, shivering as he brought the lantern closer. "I'm freezing. Never been this cold in my life."

Swallowing, Edwin nodded. "It's the least I can do."

The boy's lips twitched in a feeble half-smile. "Yeah? You mean you can do more?"

Probably not as much as he'd like. But Edwin nodded again. "Of course."

The light shone upon the boy's face and the dark, waterlogged curls of his hair. Steeped in that impossible hue.

"Stick around a bit?" he asked, his voice very small indeed. "Bit lonely up here..."

Edwin had not come here with any plans to stick around. He'd wished to help, of course. But to say he was unaccustomed to dealing with people was a tremendous understatement. He'd planned to drop off the lantern, check the boy was alright, and slip away without a fuss.

But the boy was clearly not alright, half-alive and fading fast. And he'd seen Edwin, asked him in no uncertain terms to stay. Asked him with all the broken hope in his voice and all the impossible buried, blooming hues in his eyes. And if those colours meant what he had always been told…

Well. How could Edwin begrudge his own soulmate a last request?

"My name is Edwin," he said, as measured as he could manage. "Edwin Payne."

The boy grinned. It wobbled at the edges. "Charlie," he introduced himself. "Charles Rowland."

Edwin hummed. Charles. A pleasant name. Respectable. He thought it rather suited the young man. "A pleasure to meet you, Charles."

Charles chuckled, drawing the lantern closer to himself. "Pretty bloody brills to meet you, too, Edwin."

The colour — for it surely was a colour, Edwin knew of no other word or explanation — of the lantern seemed to pulse, then settle, stronger than before. It illuminated the feeble grin upon Charles' drawn face in hues as yet unnamed.

Edwin would have to find some names. Compare what he could see with what he'd been told, what he'd read. Identify what he could.

While he still had the chance.

"Best thing to happen to me all night," Charles mumbled. "You showing up."

Edwin wished to tell him things could only improve from here; but he knew it to be a lie.

~

"It is the color closest to light. In its utmost purity, it always implies the nature of brightness and has a cheerful, serene, gently stimulating character. Hence, experience teaches us that yellow makes a thoroughly warm and comforting impression."

~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

"Just didn't seem right. Letting that kid get beat on 'cause he's from Pakistan," said Charles.

His socks peeked out from the blanket, bright white in the lamplight. Interesting — a part of Edwin had always presumed that white would look vastly different with the rest of the spectrum unlocked. It didn't, but there was much less of it. The world was full of more off-whites in more hues than Edwin could've previously imagined. Charles' skin wasn't dissimilar. Pale-ish, but bearing pleasant warm under-and-overtones that made Edwin's look near-translucent by comparison.

"I mean, I'm half Indian," Charles continued. "Why am I so different?"

"That is a fair point," said Edwin, thoughtful, harkening back to some of the history books he'd skimmed of late. "They were the same country back when I was alive."

Fascinating how the times changed, new lines drawn in the sand. Fascinating, and frustrating. In the time Edwin had been gone wars had started and ended, entire countries had been ruptured, borders reshaped. And yet some of life's most persistent mysteries remained unanswered.

He'd not looked much into it, but it seemed little advancement had been made in understanding of the so-called 'soulmate' principle. It had been a frequent enough phenomenon to be common knowledge in Edwin's time, but no one ever had any real explanation for it. Plenty of spiritual explanations, of course. But it seemed no one could point to any tangible scientific reason why a person, upon hearing the voice of a certain other person, had the entire hidden colour spectrum revealed unto them. An entire dimension of the visible world remained inaccessible to the vast majority of the population, and still no one knew why, or even how. Clearly, there was still much research to be done on the subject.

And clearly, the notion of this mysterious person as a 'soulmate' was romantic drivel. Charles seemed a pleasant fellow, but he was a fellow. And two boys could hardly be soulmates, could they? No God-fearing Christian would embrace the concept if that were the case. So no, Charles couldn't possibly be his soulmate. Perhaps the phenomenon represented something else entirely. Like minds? Charles seemed an easy boy to get on with — and Edwin seldom got on with anybody. He even felt at ease sitting beside him on the hard attic floor, nearly touching. Perhaps Charles was simply his universe-appointed fastest friend; the one person in creation who could truly understand him.

Or maybe it was a cosmic fluke, a quirk of biology. Maybe it could have been absolutely anybody in the world.

Yes, that was probably it. Nothing deeper at play than that.

Still, it was a pity Charles would be dead before the night was out. Soulmate or not.

(Definitely not.)

"Right..." Charles mumbled. Followed by a frown. "Wait, what?"

"Hm?"

"What d'you mean 'when you were alive'?"

Edwin looked at him. Charles still seemed rather small, rather sorry. A chilly little lump, all curled in on himself, even now they were side by side and of a height with one another. He looked cold, sallow. Not even the warm hues of the light Edwin had tentatively designated yellow could hide it, cheerful though it may be.

"You ought to move around a bit," said Edwin, standing smoothly. "You must keep your circulation going."

It would do no good, of course. But who knew? Charles might be hardier than Edwin gave him credit for.

"Edwin," said Charles, all seriousness. "What d'you mean when you were alive?"

Edwin's brow twitched. He held out his hand. "Get up, and I shall tell you."

Charles took his hand — and startled. "Fuck — you're colder than me, mate!"

"And for good reason. Come, now. Two or three quick laps of the room. I'll hold the lantern."

~

"Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead."

~ Wilfred Owen

Edwin had heard some truly hideous sounds in his time. Crunching bones, squelching organs, agonised screams. And yet somehow, the wheeze of Charles hacking up water from pulverised lungs was among the worst to date.

"Are you alright?" Edwin asked, hands clasped upon the table — lest he risk something overfamiliar like a pat on the back.

"I'm fine," Charles deflected, voice hoarse and unconvincing. "Just answer my question.

Charles was looking worse by the minute. The warm tones of his skin that Edwin had grown so fascinated by were receding under sallow grey. A new colour was blooming, in and around his eyes; in the puffy lids underneath, in the spiderwebbing veins across the whites.

This colour was not nearly so puzzling — the veins were a dead giveaway. Edwin had read more than enough crime literature to be able to identify the colour of blood.

So, this was the famous red. A bold colour, possibly quite charming in the right context; which this most assuredly was not. Edwin was no physician, but he'd read a number of medical textbooks. Charles bore all the hallmarks of a man bedevilled with internal bleeding. It was not a matter of whether he would die, but of what would kill him first; the cold, or the injuries.

He tore his gaze away. Anger, bitter and harsh, had him by the throat, had his fists clenching together until his gloves creaked. Who were those wretched boys, to lay hands upon Charles? To break him so? This boy who, insofar as Edwin could tell, hadn't a bad bone in his body? Whatever Charles was to him, soulmate or not (definitely, definitely not), he was his. He was supposed to be his, and soon he would be dead, and Edwin understood, now. Understood how people found themselves mired in Hell's fifth circle, swamped in wrath and rage. For no reason, no reason at all, those boys had taken Charles’ life without a care. Taken his life, and the colour from Edwin's eyes, all in one fell swoop. Soon both would be gone; and if Edwin ever found the hooligans responsible they'd have a formidable haunting on their hands.

"Nineteen thirteen, to..." he counted one, two, three, slowly. Collecting himself. "Nineteen sixteen."

"Bullshit." Charles cocked his head, a small smile of disbelief upon his lips. It was a charming expression, in its impertinence. "When did you go to school here for reals?"

"Nineteen thirteen to nineteen sixteen," Edwin repeated, slower. "I am dead, Charles."

Charles laughed. Edwin raised his eyebrows — and pretended not to be fascinated by the flash of not-red in Charles' mouth, his tongue and gums. What was the word for a light red, again? He was sure he'd read it somewhere...

The laughter died, and Charles' eyes went wider still. "...Oh."

There was more of that not-red than Edwin had thought, actually. The shells of Charles' ears, where the dawning light from the window glowed through translucent skin. He'd never considered that a person's ears might appear a different colour to the rest of them. How many secret tricks of the light had he been oblivious to all these years? How many more had he yet to discover? How many would he never get the chance to see for himself?

Just how much more could possibly be stolen from him?

"I... I dunno if this is, um, bad to ask, or what, but..." Charles swallowed. "How'd you die, mate?"

His lips, too, were redder than the rest of him; although that was fading, rapidly. Cooling at the edges. Edwin suspected that wasn't supposed to be the case.

"As I said," Edwin replied, sadly. "We had bullies, too."

~

"Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay."

~ Robert Frost

He had Charles move around again, though it was clear it would serve no purpose. He was delaying the inevitable. Charles was all but shutting down already; the occasional boost to his circulatory system was hardly going to bring him back from Death's door.

But perhaps Charles would beat the odds. Why not? He seemed a resilient fellow. Perhaps he would, indeed, outlast the night, see another day. Perhaps help would arrive. Perhaps Edwin could give him the push he needed to survive this if he only persisted.

Besides, he couldn't let Charles seize up and expire just yet. Charles had questions and damn it all, Edwin would answer them!

"Actually, you can move around any space however you like," Edwin explained. "It is not that you cannot touch things, you just cannot feel them."

A blessing in disguise, on occasion. Though Edwin had done his utmost to fill up this nook by the window with whatever musty blankets and futons he could salvage, he doubted the floor was comfortable. He himself sat with his knees tucked up to his chest, bracing for discomfort he couldn't feel. It was far from ideal. But he supposed that a hard floor was the least of Charles' problems.

Charles was rapidly declining. That cool tinge upon his lips was growing more prominent, his coughs harsher and more visceral-sounding. But here, at least, he seemed as snug as Edwin could make him. Swaddled like a babe, tucked up against the cluttered old shelves. Perhaps this was warm enough to get him through. It certainly seemed warm, with the yellow light burning merrily on.

It glowed not only off Charles' skin and his eyes, but a myriad small reflective surfaces strewn about the forgotten nook. Edwin was particularly taken with the shimmer of it off what appeared to be a dented instrument — possibly a tuba? — near Charles' head. Metals had always looked very similar to one another, in Edwin's grayscale vision. Now he could see the metal of the horn was a somewhat deeper shade than that of, say, the earring Charles wore. Finally, he could see first-hand the differences between the precious and non-precious metals. Alas, he had few of them to choose from, and little way of knowing which was which. He supposed it safe to assume that the instrument was brass, hence its orchestral designation.

But the metal Charles was wearing was his favourite so far. It had a little of the yellow about it, but richer, more lustrous. Edwin found himself quite transfixed by the way it fluttered and flickered in the light.

He was familiar with the saying all that glitters is not gold, of course. But for want of further evidence, gold seemed as good a guess as any.

"It's stupid, but... I think I'd miss kissing," said Charles. He looked right at Edwin, earring and eyes twinkling with the motion. He did have... handsome eyes. Edwin simply must figure out what colour they were. Of a similar hue but different tone to his hair, to the old wooden shelves at his back. "Do you miss kissing?"

"Mmm-mmmm," Edwin mumbled, with a small shake of his head. "No. Not as such."

How many people had Charles kissed, he wondered? Surely not an abundance, they were of a similar age. Had he kissed someone this month, this week? Today? Before his lips grew cold and chapped, when they were... oh, what was that word for a lighter red? Pink, yes, that was it.

Then again, perhaps he went about with painted lips in every day life. He already wore some sort of cosmetic on his eyes, after all, so maybe it wasn't a stretch for a modern young man. Imagine. A boy, staining the lips of his paramours with lipstick when he kissed them...

Goodness. The world really had moved on.

Edwin cleared his throat. "No," he repeated, firmly. "No, I don't miss kissing."

He supposed it was fine that Charles liked it, though. And maybe he'd get the chance to do it again. He just had to hold on a little longer, outlive the dawn chorus, until the teachers noticed his absence and sent people searching. Then he could keep on living, and kissing and whatever else he wished to do and Edwin...

Well, Charles probably wouldn't have much use for a ghost friend. But at least Edwin could keep the colours. Just a little while longer.

Charles chuckled. It was a bit of a sadder sound than the last time Edwin heard it. "Must've had some shit kisses in your life, mate."

Edwin smiled, tightly. "Something of that ilk."

"Shame we weren't mates," said Charles. "I'd've..."

"You'd have... what?"

A smattering of colour returned to Charles' face, then. It might've been a trick of the light, but Edwin could've sworn his cheeks warmed. "I'd've... well, I'd've found you someone to snog, wouldn't I?" he laughed, drawing his blanket closer around his chin. "Got some fit mates from my old school. And the birds proper fancy the brainy lads."

Edwin frowned. "The... birds?"

"Y'know. Lasses. Girls."

"Oh." For whatever reason, Edwin felt... disappointed. And not just at the apparently abysmal state of modern slang. "Yes. Girls."

He cocked his head, watching Charles carefully. He was a very good looking boy. And he wasn't Edwin's soulmate, couldn't be, but...

Edwin cleared his throat. "Charles?"

"Yeah?"

"Do I look..." He wavered. "...Unusual, at all? To you?"

Charles blinked. "Um. Well. Outfit's a bit retro." His eyes widened slightly, a dash of mortification. "Not being rude! I like it! It's... it's cool."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "I don't mean my outfit, I mean... have you noticed anything different about this room since I walked in?" he pressed.

"Well, yeah."

Edwin inhaled. "You have?"

"Yeah."

He leaned in closer. "What have you noticed exactly?"

Charles smiled weakly. "Well. It... feels a lot less lonely. With you here. Warmer, too." He chuckled. "Daft as that sounds. With you being dead, and all."

Edwin's fingers flexed on his knees �� all he could do to stop himself hugging them, wretchedly, to his heart. "Yes," he agreed, dully. "Daft, indeed..."

~

"Green makes me think of silence, or maybe it’s loneliness. I get the feeling of a terribly distant star."

~ Kobo Abe

Edwin had only ever known one person ‘fortunate’ enough to meet her soulmate.

Aunt Florence had always been a bit of an odd duck. Flighty and fickle, a perpetual embarrassment to her brother — Edwin's father — whose job it had been to lend financial support to her spinster lifestyle. As she alleged it, she'd found her soulmate in the late eighteen seventies. For reasons undisclosed (to Edwin, at least) they had never married. Edwin had never had the pleasure of meeting her mysterious match.

She had always seemed very fascinated with the world around her, Aunt Florence. A trait she shared with Edwin; though while his interest lay in facts, hers lay in aesthetics. He’d seen her dedicate hours to the study of a singular rose petal in her garden. Edwin was told she could do quite beautiful things with oil paints, for those with eyes to see. They were passable, too, in black and white, but lacking dimension.

Once, when Edwin was about nine or so, Aunt Florence had taken his chin between her willowy fingers.

"What lovely eyes you have, my boy," she'd said, in a smoker's croak. Uncouth for a woman to smoke, particularly one of her social standing, but she'd never much cared what others thought of her. Her tobacco-stained nail had nipped his chin as she held him close. "Your mother's eyes. Sea green... You'll find yourself someone who can appreciate them, won't you?"

Edwin, of course, had had no idea what green was, and little desire to find out. Not if finding a so-called soulmate was the prerequisite condition. He was of an age where the fixation that grown-ups seemed to have on kissing one another was both vexing and perplexing to him. A phase of his life that, to be frank, he'd never entirely left behind. He'd extricated himself from Aunt Florence's talons as politely as possible, and given her a wide berth for the rest of her visit.

The next time he'd seen her, she had taken one look at his eyes, and burst into tears.

They all ended the same way, these soulmate stories. It was a law of nature. Death was not neat, or particularly fair. No matter how blissfully happy the pair, someone always had to leave first; and when they did, the colour left with them.

Some, at least, got time to enjoy it all. Before their love — and their colour — died away. A few decades, or years. Months, even.

Some, like Edwin, got far less. Hours, if that.

And some, like Charles Rowland, got no time at all.

~

"They're out of the dark's ragbag, these two

Moles dead in the pebbled rut,

Shapeless as flung gloves, a few feet apart —

Blue suede a dog or fox has chewed.

One, by himself, seemed pitiable enough,

Little victim unearthed by some large creature

From his orbit under the elm root.

The second carcass makes a duel of the affair:

Blind twins bitten by bad nature."

~ Sylvia Plath

"Shut up, mate. That is brills."

Edwin was inclined to agree. Especially now he could appreciate the full effect. He'd been aware, of course, that his form seemed to partially dissolve into a mirage when he passed through solid surfaces. He'd been unaware that the mirage seemed to possess a certain hue. Not unlike the hue beginning to bleed through the filthy window.

The pre-dawn light was different to the majority of the colours Edwin had identified so far. It was colder. Greyer. Pale and stark against the opaque black silhouette of the distant treeline (interesting, how the trees still seemed black in this light. He wondered if he'd get a chance to see this green he'd heard so much about before the night was over.) If Charles' face was warmed by the yellow lamplight, it was cooled at the edges by the seeping tones through the glass.

This, like the red and the blood, came with an easy reference point. Everybody knew that the sky was supposed to be blue.

Seemed Edwin finally had a word for the sickly tint of Charles' lips.

"Why don't you fall through the floor?" Charles asked, puzzled.

"There are many, many, so-called ghost rules," said Edwin, sagely. He had, after all, spent several weeks conducting his own personal study and compiling the rules himself. "I shan't waste your time listing them."

"Well, I only asked about the floor, didn't I?" said Charles, a teasing lilt to his lip. Honestly, the cheek of the man.

"Because I choose not to fall through the floor," Edwin replied, in utterly falsified exasperation. "Happy?"

Charles had a certain way of smiling; one that spread up from his grinning mouth and into his eyes. Despite the cold, miserable state of the rest of him they fairly shone with warmth, a merry humour. A knowing gleam that said 'look at us, in on the joke'.

Edwin had never been in on the joke, before.

Charles chuckled; and Edwin did likewise, helpless to the draw of it. The magnetic sound. It had his lips lifting of their own volition — even as his heart sank further and further into the floor.

The blue devils, that's what his father had called it. On those rare occasions when he acknowledged Mother's low mood, or found Edwin weeping silently upon his bed. "You've just got the blue devils, my boy. Chin up, now, and soldier on. You've better things to do than mope."

He could feel them, now, those blue devils upon his shoulder. Cold, heavy, and the colour of Charles' bloodless lips. Weighing Edwin down like stones in his pockets. He hadn't felt hot or cold in decades, but now he felt as Charles must have done with the chill lake pressing down upon him, filling his lungs. And unlike Charles, he wasn't sure he possessed the tenacity to break the surface before the bubbles stopped.

He'd fought his way from the pits of Hell itself, and yet this climb seemed more insurmountable by far. He was no longer fighting his way from the dark to the light. There was no light above the surface of this icy water, no light at all. The light was here, the entire spectrum of it; above was only grey, grey, grey, as far as the eye could see.

"Oi," said Charles. He looked so very tired; but still inquisitive to a fault. "What other cool stuff can you do, then?"

Edwin huffed. "I can travel through mirrors, if you must know."

Charles' blue lips parted, breath escaping on a wonderstruck wheeze. "Wicked."

He ought to be more careful with his breaths. He couldn't have had all that many left to draw.

~

"We love the sight of the brown and ruddy earth; it is the color of life, while a snow-covered plain is the face of death."

~ John Burroughs

Charles Rowland passed away in the small hours of the morning. Edwin didn't even need to look up from the page; he just watched the pinkish tint bleed from his own ghostly fingertips, and made a deduction.

Even before his passing, Edwin hadn't looked directly at Charles in some time. He hadn't been able to bring himself to. The colour in his ailing new friend had diminished all but completely, his skin a sallow patina, his lips a cracked grey slate.

Edwin had only come to know colour on this night, and already he could feel its absence like a hole in his heart. He understood, now, why Aunt Florence had dragged herself so mournfully through her twilight years. Going through the motions of existing. Colour, for Aunt Florence, had been life; without it, there was simply no point living.

Somehow, Edwin found his voice, and he read on. Because Edwin was no Aunt Florence, arty and flighty and prone to outpourings of passion. Edwin was his father's son; he soldiered on. No matter what.

But the ache in his chest persisted, despite his best efforts to quash it. There had been so much yet to see. He'd never witnessed the colour purple — an expensive hue of which he'd heard a great many appreciative things. He'd never seen a flower, any flower, in full bloom, or watched one of those famous sunsets.

In the end, he never even got to see what his aunt meant about his eyes. But he had no reflection anymore, so. Perhaps that one was always a lost cause.

On the topic of lost causes; there was someone else in this room with him, yet. Someone who'd lost far more than a fleeting glimpse of creation in technicolour.

""— I cease to believe,"" Edwin finished reading with a soft, forced chuckle. To no response. He looked up to find Charles standing tall, gaze turned to the window. It was the first time all night he'd been without his blanket; and the first time he'd borne not the slightest shiver.

Well. At least he would never be cold again.

"Not enjoying this one?" Edwin prompted, gently. "Carrados the blind detective was just becoming quite popular in my day."

When Charles turned around, of course Edwin already knew what he would find. Knew what his own eyes would fall upon when they followed Charles’ gaze.

But knowing did not prepare him for the reality. The cold, desaturated tableau of Charles Rowland's demise, illuminated like a crime scene in the stark white light of the lantern. How a person so vital, so vibrant as Charles should be without blood and colour defied all reason. And yet there he lay; bereft of hue, and of life.

Edwin swallowed, and closed the book gently upon Max Carrados. "When you could see me, I knew it was too late."

Charles was silent. For the first time all night. Silent as the grave.

"But I simply..." Edwin hesitated. "I did not want to scare you."

In the corner of Edwin's eye, the lantern guttered and died. Good. It didn't seem right; all that light upon Charles, and not a drop of warmth in it.

"Well. Glad you didn't say anything." Charles' voice was stronger, now. How different he sounded, without the rattle of lake water in his lungs.

Charles looked at his hands. As did Edwin. How strange they appeared, in the bleak grey of Edwin's impoverished eyes. How unsettlingly close to the pallor his skin had taken on in his death throes. And yet he wasn't pallid, not in the slightest. Standing tall, unchained from his ailing flesh, he was more wholly and healthily Charles than Edwin had yet seen him.

"Doesn't feel like I imagined. Being dead," said Charles, thoughtful. "Feels okay, doesn't it?"

In truth, there was nothing remotely 'okay' about this situation. Edwin felt... robbed. He felt robbed. Because he would never know the colour of Charles' skin when it wasn't frozen grey, or beaten black and blue. He'd never see this Charles, standing tall in the dawning sunlight, the way he was designed to be seen. The way he was chosen, by God or fate or an impossible quirk of biology to be seen, by Edwin. Only by Edwin. For he was Edwin's, no more could he deny it.

And Charles would never see Edwin. Not the way Edwin saw him. Because by the time they met, it was already too late. Because in a wretched twist of fate, Charles’ soulmate — his unfortunate, unorthodox soulmate — was dead in the ground before Charles was even born.

And Edwin had thought Hell to be cruel and unusual punishment.

"I sincerely wish we could have been friends for longer," said Edwin, dropping the magazine and standing from his seat on the old trunk. "But Death will come for you, now. You should go with her when she arrives."

He turned, and began his brisk march to the door. What's done is done; and Charles was, unmistakably, done. Done in and done for, done in just about every sense.

So Charles would be off, now. He'd be off, and Edwin would just have to carry him, too. In his head, with his facts and his torments and a thousand tiny heartbreaks. What was another one, in the grand scheme of things? What else was there to do in this fugitive afterlife but keep his chin up, and soldier on?

"Well I'm not ready, am I?” Charles called out. “I don't wanna go somewhere else, yet."

Edwin faltered. Turned. Charles was watching him.

"What if I stay here for a bit with you, instead?" said Charles, preposterously.

"Then you will always be running from her," was Edwin's quick, logical response. But Charles was still watching him with those... those damnably appealing eyes, and he felt the need to defend his case. "Also, I'm not good with other people. And I only just came back to this school after escaping Hell, so. I'm out of practice, to be perfectly frank. So. When the light comes. You stay, and I go."

He smiled, tightly, and turned once more. There. He'd avoided mentioning Hell all night, but it was done, now. No boy with a lick of sense would —

"Well, I'm aces with other people."

… He simply could not be serious.

"Pretty chuffed you got out of Hell, mate," Charles continued, maddeningly blasé. "That sounds hard. Nice job."

Edwin turned on him, incredulous. "That is not how you make decisions," he snapped, taking a challenging step towards Charles. "Just based on whatever you happen to be feeling in the moment!"

"It's how I lived my life."

Charles turned his head, looked down at his own body. Edwin couldn't bring himself to do likewise.

"Doesn't seem all that different now."

Charles looked at Edwin, unflinching. And what a different creature he was, free of cold and pain. Lithe but lax, eyes slightly narrowed in almost catlike contemplation of Edwin. He stood before a hellbound soul, near naked and freshly dead, and yet the easygoing slope of his narrow shoulders bore no strain.

He shrugged, nonchalant. White light glimmered from his dangling earring. "Looks like you're stuck with me.”

For a moment it was nigh on impossible to believe he hadn't seen it, too. Hadn't seen the spectrum unfold when Edwin said his name. Because how else could someone look at anyone, let alone Edwin, with such certainty? As if he'd never been more sure of anything or anyone in his tragically short life.

Breathtaking was not a word Edwin liked to use lightly. In fact, he preferred not to use it at all. Who had ever seen something so rare, so staggeringly beautiful they'd lost their breath? It was the sort of word Aunt Florence would have used; flowery and hyperbolic.

It seemed Edwin owed her yet another apology.

Light flared in the corner. Their eyes leapt to it. It was of no colour that Edwin could see and yet he could feel it, deep in his soul, he knew its shape and colour; blue. A kinder, softer blue than that of bloodless lips and dreary skies. The wild blue yonder that he was barred from forevermore; the one that awaited Charles Rowland with open arms.

Charles looked at Edwin.

Edwin looked at Charles.

Charles smiled, soul glowing lantern-bright in those dark, confident eyes. He didn't move, not towards the light or away from it, but he held out his hand. Planted like a tree, unbending, unbowed. His roots sunk deep into the loamy earth of life; his branches beckoning Edwin into their boughs.

Oh, thought Edwin, when he understood — didn't see, simply understood — the colour that had been gazing back at him all along. That's the word I was looking for.

~

Thirty years passed, fading into memory, and with them faded the sting. It was hard to mourn the loss of colour when one could scarcely remember what it looked like in the first place. Those fleeting hours blended and blurred amidst the grey years, lost to time; a single hand-tinted frame in a hundred miles of monochrome celluloid.

Though he tried to remember, Edwin struggled to visualise the yellow light that had bathed their faces; the gold that glinted at the cut of Charles' jaw. Pink lips, red veins, the blue stain of death. Such things were impossible to note down in a world of black ink and white pages, and his aide-mémoires soon failed him. The colours fluttered away into the past, scattered to the winds of memory like his mother's smile, his father's voice, Aunt Florence's smoky laughter and the roses she painted on the guest room walls.

But though he could not recall the exact shade of Charles' eyes, nor compare them to any other — not even his own — Edwin knew something about them. Just as he knew Death's light shone heavenly blue. And for once in Edwin's long and tormented afterlife, he felt truly fortunate. Because he'd been allowed to experience only a fraction of what the visible spectrum had to offer; colours he could count on less than two hands.

And yet somehow, by some stroke of luck, he'd seen the best one nonetheless.

~

"At breakfast that morning I had been struck by the lively dissonance of its colours. But that was no longer the point. I was not looking now at an unusual flower arrangement. I was seeing what Adam had seen on the morning of his creation - the miracle, moment by moment, of naked existence."

~ Aldous Huxley

~~

Thank you for coming on this journey with me, my darlings 💛 Love to hear your thoughts! Reminder to check out Olly's amazing gifs! This one took a little while to come together, bc in my first draft Edwin's feelings/progression were a bit all over the place. But I realised that all the sections of the attic scene (not including the very first one/my inserted flashback about Aunt Florence) could track along the five stages of grief quite nicely and that gave me a good framework to loosely follow, starting in his denial of the implications and ending in devastated acceptance of what he's lost. As to why he didn't like, *tell* Charles, well, what would you do? Be honest? If you were a dead Edwardian ghost boy and you found out your actual soulmate was not only another boy, but a doomed one? One who isn't even seeing what you're seeing. Maybe he thought Charles wouldn't believe him, or would take it badly. Maybe he thought telling him would sway him unfairly into staying when Edwin believed he should go. I think he will tell him, one day. And Charles is gonna be PISSED that he kept it from him so long xD For the quotes, I tried to stick to things Edwin could possibly have read, so pre-1989 things, as I like the idea of him using literature as a framework for understanding what he's seeing. It was really interesting writing about colour from the perspective of someone with no reference for it! Some of the quotes might have ended up anachronistic by a couple of years, tbh people are *shit* at sourcing their quotes and while I could source authors easy enough it was hard sometimes to isolate what specific book/anthology the piece came from, or what year it was published. If I'd have had more time I would have done more digging! Anyway, that's about all I got right now. I dunno when I'll be back, probably (hopefully) in a few weeks with the next chapter of Lonely Bones. In the meantime please, feel free to continue chatting with me in the comments, on my tumblr, come be a pal, I've had the time of my life with y'all this week and I'm not ready to get off this train just yet! Until next time! 💛

[violetarks]

'cause i got my love to keep me warm!

anime: attack on titan

characters: eren jaeger, mikasa ackerman, porco galliard

summary: christmas isn't christmas without a kiss under the mistletoe!

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, second person pov, i am writing this in november guys, modern! au

↣ eren jeager:

you watched as jean hung up that plant above the entrance to the kitchen from the living room, an open doorway that definitely fit two people comfortably.

"jean... do i even wanna ask?" you huff out, sipping from your glass the sweet alcohol connie had handed to you.

"if you must know, mikasa is arriving soon and she brought desserts so she'll put 'em in the fridge, right?" he steps off the foot stool, putting it to the side. he stands with his hands on his hips, so proud of himself. "so i'll swoop in and help her carry her things and we'll kiss under the mistletoe and she'll fall in love with me."

you chuckle at his scheming, leaning against the wall beside the entrance, jean making sure to step a few feet away to not get caught with you. no offence. "i would be so flattered if someone did this for me."

"first find someone who will tolerate you that isn't sasha or connie." he retorts, stopping himself and look you square in the eyes, "or me. don't look for me. ever."

"oh i would rather gouge my eyes out." you huff, finishing your drink. the empty glass makes you frown. niccolo made such good alcoholic punch, you were downing so much of it. "hey, ymir! where's the rest of the drinks?"

"in the kitchen—ay, don't drink 'em all! not everyone has arrived yet!" she shouts, looking at you with your empty glass. she points a finger at you, as if to threaten, but you roll your eyes and waving your hand at her, leaving jean to his antics he was so proud of.

as you fill up your glass, you hear the last of your friends arrive. mikasa, armin and eren walk in, making everyone cheer and gather arround you. you were imagining jean's excitement as he saw his crush of a couple years. you sat in the kitchen and listened, preparing yourself to go out and talk to your own crush of a couple years. you were hoping that this time, eren and you could have a conversation throughout the night without him running to the bathroom or escaping to hang out with armin.

"y/n, get in here!" reiner calls from the living room, where everyone else was.

you huff back, pushing off the bench, "okay!" walking towards the exit of the kitchen, you fix your shirt and put on a smile. "it's so great to see you guys! it's been forever." you say, seeing eren walking towards you with a box of cupcakes. armin and mikasa say the same thing to you as a greeting. but you blink, seeing jean distraught as mikasa strikes up a conversation with historia and ymir, empty-handed.

"y/n. hey." eren says, giving you a soft smile.

"hi." you respond, looking down at the seal on the top of the box, "mikasa's cupcakes?"

he stops beside you, shrugging his shoulders. "yeah. can you tell which ones i decorated?" he chuckles nervously, watching you scan each dessert.

"ah... well..." you stammer, seeing the weirdly placed icing on a handful of the cupcakes, as well as the messy sprinkles. some of them were only on half of the cupcake. you give eren your best smile. "i would still choose yours over the others."

"thanks." he says back, rubbing the back of his neck. he then notices the glass in your hand. "how do the drinks taste?"

"oh, amazing. they taste so good." you admit, holding up your drink, "it's such a nice colour too. niccolo did very well—..." you held up your glass to the light to inspect the colour, but your eyes fall on something above you instead.

"y/n? what's... wrong?" he asks, looking up where you were. his ears begin to tint pink, face burning. "oh... who—who put that there?"

"jean did, to kiss mikasa." you admit, putting your glass down on the table beside you, taking the box from eren and doing the same thing. you began to feel your face heating up at well, a bit embarrassed. "it doesn't matter, just forget about it. i'll get you a drink."

but as you turn to the kitchen again, eren moves forward, trapping you against the wall of the room. you were out of sight from the rest of the party, eyes wide and staring at the man in front of you. he looked determined, eyes scanning yours.

"eren, what're you doing?" you say, keeping your hands against the wall. his were near your waist, his wrists bumping against you.

"can i?" he asks, gulping. his hair falls a little against his forehead, you watch the strands carefully. you could feel the heat radiating off his body, and see the mad blush over his cheeks. "can i kiss you? please?"

"yes." you say before you can think.

he dives forward, hand resting on your cheek to pull you closer. your hands leave the wall and you don't know where to put them. with gentle hands, you grasp the bottom of his hoodie and kiss back. eren kisses you just as softly, as if to not scare you. he was a little rough on the outside, so his delicate touches and kisses surprise you.

there was a sense of desperation that you could feel, as if he was waiting for this as long as you had. his other hand pulled you against him by your back, kissing you deeper. you let out a quick exhale, only to be pulled back into another kiss. and another. you almost couldn't breathe by how quickly he was kissing you.

"hey, you wanna' bring—WOAH WOAH WOAH!" sasha begins to yell, completely forgetting what she came in to ask you and now waving her hands around to cover her face. a few others run into the room to investigate as you and eren pull away, hands still on each other and staring back at sasha.

"what's wro—..." jean begins, stopping when he notices your position. it's quiet as armin, annie and reiner stare at you as well. you stay in your spot, still tugging on eren's shirt and torso, and eren's arms wrapped around you. jean is quiet before he begins shouting, nearly louder than the music. "WHAT? HOW—WHY ARE YOU KISSING HIM?"

"your stupid mistletoe!" you call back, taking your hands away from eren and pointing to the plant.

"oh so you stand under a mistletoe and you get to make out with someone in the kitchen," jean begins to complain as armin takes the others out of the room for privacy, "but when i do it, i get forced to kiss bertholdt?"

"that was like one time." eren sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets, brushing his face as if to wipe away his pink cheeks.

"whatever, asswipe." jean scowls, flipping the both of you off as he elaves, "enjoy your christmas, traitors."

as you are left alone, quietness consumes you. eren isn't able to meet your eye, much like you struggle to do as well.

but you clear your throat, "uh, yeah, so... thank you?"

"for kissing you?" eren hums, a bit of a smile on his lips.

"yeah? nevermind." you say, even more embarrassed. eren laughs a little, taking a step towards you again. you brace yourself before he places a gentle kiss to your cheek.

"you're welcome. i hope i can kiss you again." eren says, sending you a grin before he takes your hand, "you said these drinks were good, right? i'll try some."

he doesn't let go of your hand as he pours himself a glass. it seems like he has no intention of letting it go either.

↣ mikasa ackerman:

she watches you from the other side of the room, seeing how you laugh at something that sasha said. she grips her glass a little tighter, armin grabbing it from her in fear of it breaking.

"gosh, mikasa..." he huffs, setting it on the table and following her line of sight, "why don't you go up and talk to them?"

"armin..." she mutters out, looking at her friend briefly before he rolls his eyes and listens in to eren and jean's conversation about a recent sports game.

he couldn't be less interested, but it was better than dealing with mikasa's unwavering potectiveness.

"call y/n over here." she says.

"what?" armin says, raising a brow, "why?"

"just do it." mikasa tells him, elbowing his side.

armin winces, rubbing his ribs and waving his hand out at you. "hey, y/n!" he calls, watching you and sasha look his way, "c'mere for a sec!"

you excuse yourself, pattinf sasha's shoulder. she makes a beeline for the food table, where connie and reiner were at the moment. meanwhile, you walked over to armin and mikasa's spot on the couch, where the girl sat straighter and fixed her hair.

"hey, armin. it's good to see you, mikasa." you say, nodding at her and looking back at rhe blonde. mikasa relished in those few seconds, feeling her cheeks burn under your gaze and kind smile. "what's up?"

armin truthfully didn't know what to say. he made it sound like he needed you for something, but he was blank. "i, uh... i'm..." he frantically looked around, briefly at mikasa. she only widened her eyes a little and gave a look that said 'think of something'. he wanted to scold her. but his eyes lay on the drink he had taken from his friend. he perks up. "can you grab something for me?"

you raise your brows, hand out of your pocket and on your hip now. "uh, sure thing. what d'ya need?"

mikasa clenched her hands on her lap, silently cussing out armin. she asked him to bring you here so you could talk to her and be around her. why was he sending you on an errand run now?

"upstairs, i left some alcohol in the study that i forgot to bring down. could you just grab it for me?" he asks, actually remember that he legitamately forgot to get them, "i have to quickly check on the desserts."

"oh yeah, i can do that." you say, giving a thumbs up.

"thanks." he retorts, standing up, "mikasa, can you help her? it's a few bottles."

she blinks and stands up as well. "yeah, i—i can help." she mumbles, staring at you.

"great. just bring them to the kitchen when you're done." armin nods his head and then walks off, leaving you two alone.

you point to the stairs. "should we get going?"

"right." mikasa smiles, following after you.

the both of you leave the party in the living room, going towards the house entrance to go upstairs. it grew quieter, until all you heard was the two pairs of footsteps.

she walks up the stairs behind you, never taking her eyes off the back of your head. your hair looked so nice today, and your shirt hugged your figure so nicely. not to mention, your choice of fragrance today was enchanting. you smelt so nice...

"so, um... i heard you and that student from economics went out together..." mikasa says, trying to hide her deep rooted anger.

she had heard from eren who was told by jean, who was shown by reiner, who got sent a photo from annie, that you were seen on a date at a cafe near the university you all went to, with some random personfrom another course. by the end of the day, she had learnt who it was, what they did, what you two ordered, and that the person had only one girlfriend from early primary school.

you glance over your shoulder at her. "oh... right. well, we're just friends." you explain, shurgging your shoulders, "didn't really work out, it was only one date anyway. we're not interested in each other."

"oh, that's... that's good." mikasa chimes in, a small smile on her face. she couldn't contain her excitement. maybe you were interested in her instead.

"just these ones here, right?" you ask, holding up a few bottles in your hand as you kneeled in the study. mikasa snaps back into reality, nodding her head. "sweet. let's get 'em all."

mikasa begins to collect the alcohol as you do, being careful not to drop any. once they were all acquired, you begin on your way downstairs, making smalltalk with mikasa. about how her holidays are so far, her studies and all. you even ask about eren and armin. you were so considerate too, the way you made sure to carry more than her because you had seen her drink a few glasses before this, while you hadn't.

"you okay, mikasa?" you say from behind her. she nods her head, pleased by your concern. "good, good. i can't wait to try—fuck!"

she turns around just in time to catch a loose bottle once she's on the bottom of the stairs. the bottle doesn't go far, now laying in mikasa's arms. you steady yourself on the second last steps, clutching the alcohol to your chest. you were wide-eyed, staring at her.

"oh my god, i'm so sorry. thank you, mikasa." you say, breathless. she nods her head once and looks up to you on your elevated step, heaving the bottles safely in her hands. her eyes land on something passed you. "is something wrong?"

you follownyour gaze to see the a mistletoe hanging above you. "oh man, who put that there?" you ask, stepping down another step. you look to mikasa, who is staring bsck at you. if you knew anything, you knew the look on her face. a grin lays on your face and you sigh, "you poor thing."

"huh?" mikasa mutters, watching as you lean forward and press your lips against hers. a small squeak leaves her and she thinks she's about to drop the alcohol on the floor.

she tastes a little bitter due to the drinks she's been having, but you've been eating christmas sweets all night. the blend of the two flavours is nice. mikasa squeezes her eyes shut, and she can feel her cheeks burning as her heart beats faster.

you were cool and collected, gently moving your lips against hers and guiding the both of you. mikasa was too cute, asking you all these questions throughout the time you've known her, always finding a way to be alone with you. you ever really thought much of it, but that look in her eyes just then told you all you need to know.

when you pull away, mikasa's eyes slowly open, her lipstick now smudged and on you. you memorised her face, how her blush spread across her cheeks and her ears. meanwhile, mikasa tried to calm herself, shifting on her feet.

"you... didn't have to, y/n." she says, standing up straight.

but you walk down the rest of the stairs, pressing another kiss to her cheek as you pass her. "don't worry yourself. let's give these to armin, and then get a drink." you say, leading her to the kitchen.

she lets out a small breath, collecting herself and then following after you.

↣ porco galliard:

thank god armin was smart.

"pock! y/n is here now!" pieck announces from the dinner table. the restaurant was fully booked out and lively, piano played familiar christmas themes and the formal attire made it look as expensive as it really was. the food smelt amazing, which is why colt wanted to buy almost everything on the menu, to which reiner dismissed but truly wanted as well.

"yeah? why are you only tellin' me?" porco responds, not bothering to stand from his seat. but he searches the large crowd for your walking figure. pieck smiles, knowing of his not so secret feelings for you. when you finally make it to the table, porco sneaks glances.

"hey, i'm sorry i'm late. i couldn't find my shoes." you say, waving at everyone as they greet you too. you scan the table for a spare spot, only seeing one in between reiner and porco. your eyes lock with his, and he hastily looks away. as everyone falls into their own conversations, you stand near porco. "can i sit here?"

"see anywhere else you can sit?" he huffs back at you. you snicker, sitting down beside him and setting your jacket on the chair. everyone fell into conversation around you whilst you sat there quietly, playing with the napkin on your lap. porco stares at you for a moment before clearing his throat. "you look good. you... look nice."

your head turns to him, and a smile dawns on your face. "oh? thank you, porco. you look handsome tonight."

"thanks." he huffs, looking away. the food was coming now and he didn't want to look at your face as you stared at him. why were you so positive and sweet?

the dinner continues with small talk between the both of you and the rest of the table. zeke did his share of pushing porco and reiner's buttons, and you, bertholdt and pieck worked to mend their arguments.

as the food came and went, and drinks were topped off endlessly. colt was currently telling his own story about something funny that happened to him last week. he mentioned falco and gabi, and by the end of five minutes, porco was zoned out, drinking from his glass.

he was bored. as much as he enjoyed free food, he was so bored.

"i'm just gonna go to the bathroom." porco clears his throat, excusing himself.

he stands up, nudging against you genty by accident. but he finds himself brushing his hand against you and holding the back of your chair to stand up. you offered him a gentle smile, to which he nodded at and walked away.

"don't be too long, galliard." zeke chimes in, ellicting an eye roll from the said man, "we might miss you too much."

"suck it, jaeger." porco scoffs, fixing his collar as he leaves the table.

you watch him leave as everyone else falls into conversation. porco has always been different from everyone else, you realised. he was realistic, somewhat pessimistic, but always trying his best. you found yourself a little excited to be alone with him, but that was rare. there was never a good reason to be alone with him, and it was embarrassing to just say you wanted him to yourself.

so when you saw him pass the bathrooms and go straight to the empty balcony, you took your chance.

"i'll be back, gonna' go get a drink from the bar." you say, seeing the bar in the same direction as porco.

"damn, can't get enough, can you?" colt jokes, nodding to your empty glass.

"not all of us can be a lightweight like you." you chuckle, making your way over. it doesn't take you long til you open the door of the balcony and close it behind you. porco is leaning against the balcony railing, not hearing you until you clear your throat. "hey."

"oh, hey." he says, seeing you walk towards him.

"what are you doing out here?" you ask, standing beside him.

"gettin' some air. you?"

"followed you." porco raises a brow at you. "what? you looked lonely."

"shut up." he rolls his eyes, and runs his fingers through his hair. you catch yourself staring, then looking out to the city lights. "what're your plans for christmas?"

you lean against the railing, the night wind blowing towards you. "well, i'll go to my family's town for a few days, then come back here and celebrate myself." you explain, tilting your head, "yourself?"

"the same." he huffs, resting his hand on his neck, "marcel is expecting some souveniers."

"ha, right, right." you say, playing with your fingers. you secretly wished you could think of a more personal present for porco, you opted for a nice silver ring. you just needed a good time to give it to him before you both left. "hey, so—"

"i got you something." porco says, standing up straight. you stare at him, suddenly aware of how he looked in the moonlight and the soft yellows of the lights around you. he holds out a small box from his pocket. "merry christmas, y/n."

"porco, you didn't have to." you chuckle, taking the box from his hand.

"yeah i know. but you mentioned you lost yours. and i just so happened to be out and saw it." he claims as you pull out a bracelet that was so similar to yours that you lost. you were at a loss for words, only staring down at the gift. porco self-conciously shifted from foot to foot. "it's—it's not the exact one, but y'know."

"no, porco. i love it." you say, putting it on immediately. porco blinks and lets out a sigh of relief. "thank you so much. i... the gift i got you is actually in my jacket pocket. i'll give it to you later."

"oh, i didn't know." porco says, hands bracing the metal in front of you.

you've never had solid proof that porco liked you more than a friend, but this had to be it, right? you scan his face to see him smiling a little, before you look up and see the plant hanging above your heads. he doesn't see the red berries and green leaves, but you don't say a word.

"hey, porco?" you call.

"mhm?" he replies.

"let me kiss you?" you ask, leaning against his shoulder. porco's eyes stay on you, blank-faced. he doesn't know how to say 'yes'.

"what? you wanna' kiss me?" he reiterates.

you respond, tilting your head at him, "i've always wanted to kiss you." you say, "so can i?"

porco takes a deep breath in, looking down at your lips for a few seconds. and he nods nods head. you lean forward first, making the move to kiss porco and rest a hand against his shoulder. porco's hand is on your cheek, keeping you connected.

your fingers are hot against his arm, even through the shirt he wore. his cologne filled the air, and it was just as intoxicating as any other alcohol. as handsome as he was, the way porco took care of you was even more attractive.

he kissed you softly, making sure not to overstep and to gently brush his thumb against your cheekbone. you were warm compared to the cold air. the kiss lasted shorter than any of you would've wanted, but the look on each others' face was worth it.

"i've never actually kissed anyone under a mistletoe before." you admit, patting his shoulder.

he furrows his brows before looking up, seeing the mentioned item above you two. be then chuckles, "sneaky."

"you wanna' come to mine for christmas?" you ask, caressing his arm. porco grins a little, hair falling out of place. as he pushes it back, you hold the box in your other hand. "we can cook and watch movies. after we come back from our family's, of course."

"sounds good to me." porco says, pulling you closer. you chuckle, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. he leans closer to you, earning another smile. "another one?"

who were you to reject him?

[thetempleofmara]

My Gol Hah Dov book project!

@99corentine

I have an enthusiasm for hardbound books and decided I want to turn Gol Hah Dov into a physical book.

I wanted to share with you the final project as well as my design inspiration and thoughts:

Cover design I wanted a hardbound book, with cloth and foil inlay like the mockup I made below. I modeled book 1 after Chrysanthe and drew a chrysanthemum for the cover as well as a blue and gold colour scheme.

The inspiration for the border comes from the skyrim artbook as well as the in-game "book of the dragonborn" The dovahzul in the frame is Miraak's quote from the dlc "The first Dragonborn meets the Last Dragonborn at the summit of Apocrypha" (or at least the first few words because I ran out of space, but it's the thought that counts.)

I chose some of my favourite parts of the story to use for key illustrations.

They are:

Chry meets Miraak in Apocrypha for the first time and a mute Miraak slams the wall while Chry is looking for him in the dark (I need more romance to be introduced as horror, thank you)

Chry meets Partysnax, I think you wrote him very true to character (and maybe I just wanted to draw the old boy)

Chry sets Miraak free by using the gol hah dov shout on him and beats Mora's ass with the rueful axe, I loved how all the little plot points came together for this one. ( the shout breaking mind control, the axe cutting a daedric prince, the hints of Mara assisting Chry, you are a genius)

Storm call dragon fight! I always thought storm call is such an OP ability if it would exist irl and is one of the shouts that really shows the power of a dragonborn. And you made them do it twice, such a great moment.

Chry communicating with Mora underwater. One of the best moments, and also my favourite drawing. Also just for fun here are the horrible thumbnails of the art:

Each chapter also has a Chry-inspired decal. I used chrysanthemums for him as well as using the design for Mara from the game, and the main mission quest marker from the journal:

The thumbnails:

The final ones used:

Each chapter has the number in english and the name of the chapter in dovazhul just for fun.

The sketches through the book I initially wanted to make in the style of skyrim concept art, like so:

But the style of the concept art and the style of the book was a bit too different and I felt it didn't look good with the use of red colours so I ended up with a more loose b+w style like the Teldryn one.

For the chapters where you had translations at the end I wanted to make a little dictionary design:

I based this design off the in-game miscellaneous quest markers.