#titling this one 'the world's most useless coloring page'

[pinksilvace]

I am not immune to monochromatic siblings

[crguang]

ocean eyes

You’ve never seen the ocean. Kafka introduces you to it.

fluffy as fawk, recycled the idea from that fic but it’d be like a prequel technically, 2.3k words

A/N: couldn’t stop thinking about kafka loving the sea she’s made for me atp. title only makes sense because of the other fic lol

The sea breeze washes over your being, it caresses each strand of hair and softly touches your skin like gentle hands cupping your cheeks. You feel it in your ears, a sound you’re hearing for the first time; its warmth seems to enter your lungs and clear it of past impurities with every inhale, and you wish to take a deep breath to keep it inside your chest forever.

The sensation leaves you immobile. In front of you, the ocean. A myth come true, its beauty rivaling Idrila’s. It’s vast, bigger than your mind can comprehend even after so many years spent traveling the cosmos, and a deeper blue than the sky it’s reflecting. Water has never been so alive, with waves crashing on the shore and currents on the horizon, you are facing an entity larger than life. Its depths create and harbor life that you won’t ever get to see. Your mortal eyes can only perceive a fraction of it, so small and significant. You didn’t think it was possible for water to kiss the sky, having the proof before you fills you with wonderment. Among it, some strange feeling nestles in your throat. You stand as it curls around your vocal cords and leaves you mute. Words are useless in front of something so grand, you realize, they fade away as if they've never existed at all. You lose yourself in cold blues and the occasional whites of flying seagulls, in salty air that quickly becomes your favorite scent, and you can’t speak for a long moment.

Lithe fingers, laced with your calloused ones, tighten their hold on your hand. It takes a couple blinks to tear your eyes away from the boundless sea, and you turn to Kafka’s fond smile. She’s watching you, drinking you in like you’re the precious sight and not the limitless expanse of water on the coast. A thumb swipes over the crease of your eye, lingering at the corner for a second too long, and you realize she’s wiping a tear away.

“Oh,” you exhale softly, bringing your free hand to your face. Your cheeks are wet with silent tears and you sniffle as you wipe them from your skin. “I didn’t even notice.”

“What were you thinking about so intently just now?”

You look back at the sea, an ache in your throat. The sun hides behind thin clouds and paints the world in soft colors.

“I was wondering if my planet was ever this pretty. I wish my mother could have seen it.”

Your home world fell victim to a Stellaron, like plenty throughout the galaxy. It dried most of your rivers and evaporated many of your lakes, transforming seas into lands full of sand. Water was a limited resource and a tedious thing to acquire. You remember stumbling on a picture book with various shades of blue filling some of the pages and asking your mother about it. That evening, she explained the ocean to you; never-ending, deeper than mortals can comprehend and filled with creatures your childish mind could merely compare to alien life. You thought she was making stuff up, maybe embellishing a mundane truth, but she spoke of the sea with the same tenderness she used to tuck you into bed. As you grew, you understood that it was longing in her words, a deep desire for something she would never experience in this lifetime. To you, it felt pointless to yearn for something she didn’t know; your mother was born long after the Stellaron infected your planet and spread its cancer to the roots of your world. You didn’t understand how this desire was born, where it came from. Yet, in her eyes resided a wistfulness that was only extinguished the day she died. She left the waking world longing for the sea, and memories of her constrict your chest as you stand at the edge of it.

Kafka hums, pivoting to face the water. A gentle silence settles between you as you watch the waves rise and fall on the shore. Her bare palm is warm against yours, it grounds you to the sand beneath your feet. Seagulls make a grating sound, you discover, but even their squawking can’t ruin the view before you. You feel a sudden restlessness to touch the water, to have it envelop you entirely until you feel yourself disappear in it as if absorbed.

“Can we go in the water?”

Kafka smiles. “Sure.”

Your hand slips from hers and you step out of your slides, sinking your toes into the hot sand of the beach. Sand is something you’re familiar with, it reminds you of your mom and your broken world. Comfort fills you with every step towards the waves. Kafka follows beside you, used to the sights and the sensations. She comes here every summer, but this is the first time she’s brought you along. You understand why she’d want a place like this all to herself, it brings forth a sense of serenity best enjoyed in solitude. Or, at least it did, before. Before experience brought you closer.

You hesitate somewhat once you reach the water. Your feet are submerged in it and suddenly its vastness becomes a little terrifying. Kafka walks in further until she’s standing waist deep in the water, circling hands creating ripples around her. She turns to face you with a silent question on her stretched lips.

“…I don’t know how to swim,” you confess uselessly, prompting a chuckle out of her. She knows that, obviously, since you’re unfamiliar with large bodies of water.

“We can stay on the shallow end. Don’t want you drowning on my watch, I’d get in a lot of trouble with the others.”

Kafka holds out her hand. You take it with some reticence. She brings you close enough for wet fingers to squeeze your waist affectionately. Her easy expression makes you at ease, she seems different on this planet, more carefree. She’s not wearing her contacts and her ponytail is lower than usual, its tie looser around her long locks of hair. You’re privy to a side of her you had no idea existed and you’re honored by the trust she puts in you.

“Nice, right?”

“It’s cold,” you reply, looking down at your wobbly reflections.

“Mm, I like it.”

You dip your hands beneath the water and turn your palms to the sky. Algae brushes against your calves as you move around. Kafka lets you explore, head tilting back to face the sun. You venture a bit further until your neck is the only thing sticking out of the water. Impulsively, you squeeze your eyes shut, pinch your nose with two fingers and sink into the water. Every sound is muffled in your ears, and in the darkness everything is pointless. This is different from a shower or being caught in the pouring rain, you feel light. weightless, insignificant. You wonder if that’s what your mother longed for, this freedom to be anything and anyone, drifting through the boundless sea. You emerge with a little gasp, rubbing the water out of your eyes before blinking them open.

You’re careful not to stray too far from where Kafka is drinking in the faint sunlight. Her eyes are closed when you glance back at her, chin tilted to the heavens. Her shoulders have turned a rosier color from the sun and her dark, backless bathing suit contrasts beautifully with the clear ocean blue. You walk towards her, flicking your wrist to send water flying her way. Her brows twist for a second before she looks at you with a small smile. Kafka always smiles a lot, more often than not to unsettle her opponent or prey, but there’s a softer edge to the ones she’s had since you arrived on this planet.

“What do you usually do here?” You ask, moving closer to her.

“Float. Wanna try?” Kafka holds onto your waist when you’re close enough to reach, pulling you towards her. “I can show you.”

“I don’t want to drown.”

“You’re not going to drown.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Kafka playfully rolls her eyes and takes hold of your chin with a few fingers. Her gaze follows the movement of her thumb across your jaw, then flicks up to meet yours.

“I wouldn’t let you,” she says, leaning in to press her lips on yours in a soft kiss. Your eyes flutter shut as her mouth slowly moves against yours. She pulls away after a moment and looks at you. “Do you trust me?”

“At times.”

“Well, trust me now.”

One of her hands is placed on the small of your back to support you, the other gently guides you onto your back by applying pressure on your chest.

“What if I float away,” you say, a tinge of panic enveloping you, and you grab her wrist to stay upright.

Kafka can’t help the amusement on her face. “To where?”

“Far, I don’t know.”

“Would you miss me?”

You pout. “It’s a valid fear to have.”

“It’s really not.”

“What if I float to the deep end, then it’s too late to come back and I drown because I can’t swim?”

Kafka looks at you for a moment, eyelids lowering and an amused smile on her lips. She doesn’t say anything, just stares at you like she’s thinking of something funny.

“What?” You ask, eyes narrowing.

“You killed three flying beasts twice your size at once, last week. You're scared of a little water?”

“Fuck you,” you try pushing her away, but she only presses you further into her with her arms around your waist, a laugh escaping her. “There’s nothing little about the fucking ocean.”

“Relax,” she drawls, “it won’t work if you’re tense.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

Kafka curls a hand around the back of your neck and suddenly brings you closer to capture your lips with hers. Her head tilts to kiss you better, and you can’t focus on anything but the sweet kisses she presses against your mouth. Your wet hand trails up her spine, causing droplets of water to slide down her back. Your lips part to deepen the kiss when her tongue swipes over your bottom lip. You forget the argument, your muscles relax as her chest touches yours, and by the time she pulls away with a soft exhale through her nose, you almost forget your surroundings. You chase her lips as she leans back, planting a few more chaste kisses on her mouth. She indulges you for a minute, the fingers on your nape tightening their grip for an instant. You’re breathing heavier when she separates from you for good and smiles.

“Now, let’s try it again, mmh?”

Kafka teaches you how to float in the water with firm hands and occasional teasing jabs to which you would respond if she wasn’t the one standing between you and drowning. In the end, you spend most of the day at sea, learning how to keep water from going up your nose without using your fingers and the basics of swimming. Your fingertips are pruned hours later as you emerge from the water. Kafka’s still under— you bet on who could hold their breath the longest— so you dive back beneath the surface as quietly as you can. She calls you a cheater afterwards, but you distract her with wet, slippery kisses.

You’re drying yourselves on the beach as the sun sets below the horizon. You sit on your towel next to Kafka, who’s reclined on her elbows. Her eyes are closed, not a crease between her brows, and her head is tilted upwards. Before, you thought she was sunbathing, but now the temperature is slightly lower than this afternoon and the sun is no longer visible in the sky. You think perhaps she’s simply enjoying the sound of the waves and the salty air like you did earlier. It’s funny, she hasn’t told you what this place means to her; it clearly holds some sort of significance if she returns to it annually. Her way of revealing herself is unconventional at best and a little clumsy, like a fawn taking its first steps. She presents you the sea, this part of her she keeps hidden from everyone, and says nothing else. You watch the lines of her nose, the curves of her lips and their pretty pink color. Her face is bare from any makeup, her hair loose and her expression so relaxed she might’ve been asleep. She’s beautiful. You’re no longer gazing at the ocean, though you feel a familiar sense of wonder as you observe her. Your heart is light in your chest and you suddenly understand how your mother could yearn for something she’s never experienced before.

Kafka’s eyes slowly blink open. She tilts her head to meet your stare with a smile, and you long to love her like your mother longed for the sea.

“Let’s stay a little longer.”

You nod. Your limbs move before you can stop yourself; you straddle her waist, sitting on her lap and snaking your arms around her back. Kafka lets you bury your nose in the crook of her neck, using a hand in the sand to support the both of you.

“What’s that for?” There’s a teasing lilt to her voice as you breathe in the smell of the sea on her skin.

“Nothing,” you lie, pressing a kiss to her skin.

Your mouth trails up her neck to her jaw, tasting salt, and Kafka hums when you kiss her lips. It feels different to kiss her after getting acquainted with the ocean because you finally have something to compare the weightlessness that overwhelms you with each of her fervish kisses. A hand tangles itself in your hair, pulling you closer until she reclines on the ground and your body follows without missing a beat, lips locked.

You pull away to breathe in, only slightly, reveling in the sensation of her hand up your back.

“You’ll get sand in my hair,” Kafka mutters into your mouth.

“I’ll wash it for you.”

On a deserted beach and with the sea as your witness, you kiss her until the moon ascends in the sky and the waves grow stronger behind you.

[judeandcardan]

Lured (Part-1)

He hated her defiant wicked mouth even worse, which was always ready to spew insults at him. And in the deepest, darkest, most secretive cranny of his brain, he thought of bringing his own cruel mouth against hers, her soft pink lips against his own, to shut her up once and for all.

Read it on ao3

Cardan stared long and hard at the textbooks sprawled in front of him. He sighed — rather dramatically — and picked one of them, flipping it open to reveal a bunch of scribblings about the constellations and their meanings. He threw it away in sour distaste. He hated learning about things as impractical as constellations. He scoured the other books, none it seemed took his fancy any more than the first one. He huffed. Why did he have to learn about all these measly things? Shouldn’t being royal pardon him from his useless studies? He thought bitterly.

He thought of his lectures, of Valerian, Nicasia, and Locke. His mind on its own accord, unbidden, went to the mortal sisters. Even thinking the word “mortal” left a bitter taste in his mouth. He shook his head, determined not to sully his day with even the mere thought of the Duarte sisters.

He abruptly stood up from his tall elegant wooden chair, stalking off to the low bookshelf kept just beside his bed, to procure his copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass bound in one pretty green leather hardcover with intricate gold lettering made on it, stating its title. He sat back on his table keeping the book that Vivienne had lent to him months ago on the side of the table. Ever since then he had read it as many times as he could and naught a reading went by where his treacherous mind didn’t stray to Jude, Vivi’s very much mortal half-sister.

He hated Jude. He hated her. He hated her dull brown locks of hair. He hated her light-brown eyes — which he never got to look into closely enough to determine the exact color of them — that always gleamed with hatred at him. He hated the swell of her breasts and the sway of her hips. He hated the sound of her name and how it rolled off his tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, like poison. He hated even the shape of her name, the loop of the letter ‘J’ in it. He hated her mere existence, that sometimes when she was near, he thought he might just combust into flames. He hated her defiant wicked mouth even worse, which was always ready to spew insults at him. And in the deepest, darkest, most secretive cranny of his brain, he thought of bringing his own cruel mouth against hers, her soft pink lips against his own, to shut her up once and for all.

Distinctly he heard a satisfying snap of something brittle nearby, he looked down and clutched between his fingers was a quill. Well, a broken quill now. Beneath it was a sheet of yellow parchment with the name “Jude” written repeatedly on it over and over again until the whole parchment was full of it and ink stains. Cardan brought the yellow parchment delicately closer to him to inspect it with sharp scrutiny. In some places, he had pressed the nib so forcefully that the paper had torn. Rage, shame, and worst of all, desire flared up in his stomach engulfing him whole. He quickly folded the parchments and stuffed it in between the pages of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass repressing any feelings he felt in the past minute beneath the surface.

He then slowly, languidly, strolled towards his bed, seemingly without any care of the world. He then carefully laid down on it, smoothing out its crumpled satin sheets, he made sure to think of anything but Jude. He thought of the wide expanse of the midnight black night sky outdoors with millions of glittering stars adorning it like diamonds. He thought of the evergreen trees with their deep gold everapples and their sweet, intoxicating taste. He thought of the turquoise ocean, the one where Nicasia’s mother — the Queen of the Undersea — lived, the one where he visited with her when he was in — or at least what he thought he was in — love with her. He then thought of the cold breeze swaying his soft white linen shirt as he drank his red wine peacefully sitting on fresh earthy soil, flipping the pages of a book. He thought of—

Just then there was a sharp knock at his door, breaking Cardan out of his — Jude free — thought train. Cardan grumbled under his breath, clearly annoyed with the interruption.

“Yes?” He called out with his head resting comfortably on his soft pillow. Yet, there was no reply but more insistent knocking.

“Who is it?” Cardan asked again. This time the knocking stopped and instead the elegant gold doorknob in the shape of a gargoyle twisted ever so slowly as if urging Cardan to stop it, but he remained silent unable to say or do anything, as the door eventually flew open.

In front of him — or well rather the door — stood an elegant young lady togged up in a beautiful ombré ball gown, its color deepening from white near her throat, through the palest blue to the deepest indigo at her feet. Over that was stitched the stark outlines of trees, just the way Cardan saw them from his window as dusk fell. Over them, little crystal beads were sewn to represent stars. The lady’s face — or well half of it — was covered by a pale blue mask encrusted with diamonds.

She looked at him with fierce eyes, a fire in them so similar to Jude, he thought with a surprised blink. Her eyes which were the lightest shade of honey brown he had ever seen, looked at him from under her long thick brown lashes behind her mask. Her lustrous brown hair fell in cascading waves down her back. Her breathing was hard almost as if she had been doing some kind of physical exertion before coming here, unannounced, in Cardan’s chambers. The rise and fall of her chest accentuated her generous breasts, clad in the tight material of her gown.

Catching Cardan starting at her breasts, the woman smirked wickedly. Her lips were painted the deepest shade of coral. Cardan gulped. A strange mixture of desire and dread pooling in his stomach.

“Who are you?” Cardan asked, his voice breaking at the end as the woman took a step forward towards him. The woman didn’t reply.

“What do you want?” He asked breathlessly, not expecting a reply and indeed there was none. The woman merely tilted her head, as if curious to what he was going to say or do next. He didn’t do either of those things but simply stared at her, in awe of her beauty. The woman seemingly bored with him proceeded to move across the room, her skirt trailing after her. She stopped near Cardan’s table. Slowly, carefully, she picked up his Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass hardcover book kept on his table. She examined it closely, bringing it closer to her eyes, her expression remaining hidden beneath her mask. Then, she precariously kept the book back in its place and turned towards him to access him, just like a wilder fair folk might assess their prey. Her cold gaze swept over him, making Cardan shudder from the sheer intensity of it.

She stepped towards him, it took Cardan everything in him not to shrink back from her. Suddenly, she was by his side, sitting on the edge of his bed. She held up a hand and Cardan watched, awestruck, as she brushed back a stray strand of hair falling on his face.

“I—” Cardan began, his breathing shallow but the mysterious lady having none of that, held up a long slender finger over her own plump lips, shushing him, making him gulp. She smiled a wicked smile at seeing his reaction, showing off her perfect white teeth. She then slowly but surely brought her perfect coral lips to his unworthy mouth.

Cardan became as still as a marble statue. Her mouth was surprisingly soft against his. But after what seemed like too soon she broke off from him. She stared at him, her face as blank as a fresh sheet of paper. Cardan daringly brought his shaking hand to her neck, beckoning her forward for another kiss. He was like a fairie starved for another sip of his favorite wine, begging for it. Fortunately, the woman, sitting beside him, was more than happy to serve it to him, if her smile, slow and sensual, was any indication at all.

Encouraged, Cardan brought her face closer to his by the hand still kept on her neck. Stopping, just as they were close enough for a kiss. He stared into her eyes, which seemed to hold all the answers, and promises, of the universe within them. Such a deep shade of honey was in them that Cardan was reminded of Jude as she spread honey over her bread, sitting on the white blanket with the stupid red stripes over it which she brought with her at every one of her lectures to sit on, laughing at some silly joke with her twin. Appalled by his traitorous thoughts of the rash mortal, he finally brought his lips to the exquisite-looking female, driving all his attention to the feel of her lips against his.

He groaned into her mouth, the sound embarrassingly desperate. Cardan could even feel the woman’s lip curve up into a smug smile against his. The woman never once breaking their kiss, moved to straddle his lap, rubbing herself against him, making Cardan moan with pleasure and desperation. Bringing her as close to him as possible, Cardan kissed her hard and rough something the woman was more than happy to retaliate with her own brutal kisses. Their mouths slipped together effortlessly, teeth over lips over tongues.

Seemingly done with kissing, the woman moved to place some hot, open-mouthed, sloppy kisses against his jaw and down his neck. Cardan was sure that by the next night, there would be a variety of bright red marks blossoming his pale skin that he would have to glamour them away but he couldn’t care less at the moment, as the woman’s mouth moved lower and lower until it reached the collar of his loose linen shirt. She looked up at him with inquisitive brown eyes and Cardan nodded, knowing what she was asking for. Nimble hands unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, showcasing his defined pale muscles. He wouldn’t describe himself to be particularly muscular but rather lean muscular but that seemed to please the lady enough as she continued the journey of her kisses down his chest, stopping just above his waist.

Leisurely, tantalizingly, taking her precious time, she slowly undid the silver buttons of his breeches, dragging them down slowly, her nails lightly scraping against his skin, the sensation weirdly pleasant. Surprisingly, she kissed him again. Long yet slow. Teasing yet sensual. Reverent yet careless. Cardan sighed into her mouth as her calloused hands gently moved through his smooth black hair, making her giggle into his mouth at the sound. A corner of Cardan’s soft mouth quirked up by her tinkling laugh. He almost thoughtlessly, caressingly fondled her sharp jaw with his thumb. The touch so reverent that it scared him. Even with Nicasia never had he ever truly been vulnerable. Even as they lay bare, with their limbs entangled, their breathing hard and their faces flushed with ecstasy had he ever felt this exposed as he felt now, with a stranger. A stranger wearing a pale blue silk mask.

Her small hand slithered down his chest, down his stomach, and came to rest on his waist. She cocked her head to the side, looking up at him, asking him for his consent. He nodded fervently, desperate to be touched. By her, his mind added automatically. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice as she uncertainly gripped his hard length, making him let out a harsh animal-like sound from the back of his throat. Breathing wildly, he looked down at the woman, her pupils were dilated, the black swallowing up the deep honey of her eyes, and a self-assured smirk graced her mouth. Cardan watched, mesmerized, as she slowly, more confidently, started moving her hand up and down his length.

Cardan threw his head back, pleasure and hunger humming through his body in wild waves of desire. Hunger for something more. Hunger for her. Hunger to have her body as close to him as it was possible. Hunger to have her moan his name in frenzied bliss as she pleasured herself with him.

He could still feel her rough hand move up and down over and over against him. Squeezing and caressing him from the base to the tip but what he wasn’t ready for was for her to take him in her mouth. He gasped as he felt the warmness of her mouth surround him. He watched in rapt attention — careful not to blink so as not to miss anything — as she took him whole in her mouth. He watched as she bobbed her head on his length, sucking when necessary. He was so close. So close to reaching his sweet long awaited climax, but just when he thought he could hold himself back no longer, she stopped and with a resounding ‘pop’ removed him from her mouth. He thought that he might have groaned with frustration and as the woman’s mouth connected with his lips again, his frustration only heightened with each brush of lips. The kiss was chaste but filthy at the same time. Almost as if she was apologizing to him for not giving him his sweet release but also promising something much better as her hands roamed his chest with reckless abandon.

Abruptly, she stood up, away from him, making a noise of protest, he said, “Why—” but the sentence died on his tongue as she tortuously slowly, began undressing herself. She first slipped off one of her flimsy sleeves then the other and then pushed the dress down all together until it pooled in a mess of blue at her ankles. Stepping out of it, she was left standing just in her underclothes but it was of a very different kind, he realized with a start. When he came to think of it, her curves were far too voluminous to belong to any fey. But all thoughts left his head as she reached behind her back and the strange blue under cloth covering her breasts fell to the ground. He almost groaned at the sight of her bare perfectly round breasts. Then, she pushed down her underwear until she stood naked in front of him. Before Cardan could so much as utter a single sound she straddled his waist again, kissing him, hard and hungry, parting his lips with her own, delving her tongue between his mouth.

Then, detaching her rosy swollen lips from his equally swollen ones. She moved to kiss his neck again but before she had time to do anymore, Cardan flipped them over so she was lying beneath him with his arms supporting his weight so he didn’t crush her completely but looking at her he couldn’t think that she could be crushed by anyone, but still he held himself up by his arms, anyway. Just in case.

The woman’s eyes went wide like saucers clearly surprised but pleased by this new change of position. He threw a lazy smirk at her and she laughed one of her rare laughs — rough and low — throwing her head back and exposing her neck to him. Cardan immediately began peppering the woman’s neck with kisses and her laugh turned into a long drawn-out moan. Pleased with himself, he made his journey down her neck and onto her chest, paying special attention to her breasts with his mouth, eliciting sounds sweeter than the sweetest of wines from her mouth.

One of his hands moved down to her thighs, nearing the region between her legs. He teased the woman mercilessly by never quite touching the spot he knew she ached the most. Just when he thought she might yell at Cardan with frustration and anger he finally gave in and touched her. He cursed under his breath. She was soaking wet. He tried to not let that get into his head but the rush of knowing that he caused this was as heady as the strongest of wines, if not even more so.

He parted her folds, rubbing small circles on her clit as she made sounds sweeter than everapple which fell on his desperate ears, instantly going to his throbbing length. He inserted two fingers inside of her, making her grasp and scratch his back hard enough to draw blood. Soon enough, he moved his head between her legs too, his tongue licking and sucking, determined to make her come. She tasted so sweet and bitter at the same time. Like poison, he thought.

He continued his ministrations till he felt her clench around his long slender fingers, obviously reaching her release. Her moans filled the room, echoing around it until she quietened, and then gingerly Cardan removed his fingers from her and moved up to kiss her, sweet and slow. He knew she could taste her own arousal on his lips but she didn’t seem to mind, she simply kissed him back, her fingers threading through his soft black hair.

She lightly pushed him back, surprised Cardan looked at her but seeing the mischievous glint in her eyes he laughed and lifted himself up from her to lay on the other side of the bed. She soon enough followed him to move over him, kissing him lightly before positioning her sopping heat over his length. She slowly as if keen on tormenting him even further, took him inside her. Whimpering, she slid even further down him, making Cardan groan loudly and grip her hips in a desperately poor attempt to hold onto any shred of sanity that he currently possessed.

The woman, once adjusted to the size of him, began to move more swiftly on him. Soon, her movements became reckless, wild, hasty, and brisk, that even Cardan had trouble keeping up. Fairies never did what this woman was currently doing with him. Fairies tumbled, they frolicked, they made love, they took hours to discover each other’s bodies, never in haste, always taking their precious time and Cardan never complained, he liked it, but currently lying beneath this woman as she took her sweet pleasure from him, he didn’t know if he could go back to the ways of the fair folk. He didn’t want to go back to the ways of the fair folk.

Cardan watched as if under a spell — though that wasn’t possible as no one knew his real name — as the woman’s movements began to waver, her release obviously close. Deciding to take matters into his own hand, he flipped the woman again — with her laying on her back and him hovering above her.

He slammed into her, never had he ever been this wild while making love, if one could even call it that. He was so out of control and he loved every second of it. It was the most free he had ever been since, well, forever.

The woman gasped under him, her eyes scrunched up, face down. He tilted her head up with one of his slender fingers and said, “Open your eyes, please.” He was practically begging but he didn’t care because she listened to him and opened her mesmerizingly stunning eyes, her eyes that were now so dark and filled with desire and reckless wildness, that even staring at them almost made him come.

“I—I can’t hold on much longer,” He murmured, hot against her ear. Apparently, that was enough for her to fall over the edge as she came around him, pretty little moans falling from her mouth. Just by the sounds alone he soon followed her into the sweet blissful afterglow daze.

He lay still against her, his breathing hard. When he finally calmed down, he looked up at her with half-lidded eyes, she was watching him. He smiled, and she smiled back a toothy smile. She looked without any care in the world as she lay beneath him, a small, genuine, smile plastered on her face. Cardan was sure he looked the same. He never knew you could feel this kind of feeling, this sweet nothingness, that he was currently feeling with anyone, let alone a stranger, yet here he was, freer and happier than he had ever been his whole life.

“I—” He began, then reconsidering, “It just occurred to me that…we just made love and I haven’t even seen your face.” And Indeed he hadn’t. She still wore her pale blue mask, hiding her whole face, except her deliciously swollen red mouth. He was proud to see that he had done that to her, but looking at it, he noticed that the smile she wore slipped off. He panicked, fearing he had said the wrong thing and ruined this beautiful moment he was having with her, one where he was not a prince but just a mere boy laying in the arms of his lover that he just met, but then, she smiled slightly and he felt his worries evaporate in thin air.

She slowly lifted her arms and then her head, just an inch, from the pillow where it currently lay, to undo the knots tying her mask together. He watched as she gently removed it from her face and he stilled immediately. His breathing stopped, it even seemed that his heart had altogether stopped beating itself too. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He wouldn’t believe his eyes. But as he stared at the woman’s face it could not be denied that she was who he feared she was. Jude.

He abruptly threw himself off her, horrified. The woman, no, Jude, just slanted her head as if in mild confusion, as if she couldn’t understand why he was freaking out. He wanted to yell at her to get out of his chambers but all he did was point an accusing finger at her and hiss, with all the vehemence he could gather, “You.”

Jude stared at him for a moment, then laughed, as if the whole ordeal was beyond hilarious to her. Lifting an amused eyebrow at him, she said, “Yes, me.”

“I—I will—” He stuttered stupidly, at a loss of words.

“You will what?” She asked, mildly interested. She stood up from the bed to stand in front of him and tilted her head as if waiting for him to continue and finish his sentence. He stared blankly at her, he also didn’t know what he was going to say because all he could think about at that moment, was Jude, standing naked in front of him. The familiar pit of desire opened up in his stomach once again but he closed it up. What he couldn’t stop though was glancing, for a fleeting moment, at her luscious lips, but unfortunately for him, Jude, who never missed anything, of course, saw this and smirked.

“Oh, Cardan,” She said, leaning in towards him, close enough for a kiss. His eyes fluttered shut automatically in anticipation, in want. He closed his eyes even harder as if somehow that would make this any less real and hide his growing desire for her.

“You really do want me,” She whispered, her mouth mere inches apart from him, “and you hate it.” With that, she brought her dangerous mouth to his own traitorous one. She kissed him, slow and rough, and he let her.

xxx

Cardan woke up with a start, cold sweat coating his pale skin, desire running wild through his body like a fast-flowing river ready to drown anything that came in between it. He looked around his room, trying to look for Jude, but then it dawned on him that he had been dreaming. It all had been a dream. Kissing Jude was a…dream. Making love to her was a dream. He shook his head as if somehow trying to rid his head of the ungodly image his brain was currently replaying, one that featured a very cloth-less Jude. Ungodly and not real, he reminded himself furiously.

He took a couple of deep breaths, willing himself to calm down, trying to think unpleasant thoughts about Jude, but none currently came to his mind. He was in a lot of trouble, he thought, appalled.

Horror, shame, anger, and worst of all stupid hope pooled in his stomach. He threw himself off his bed, opening up the shelf where he kept all the alcohol he possessed. Well, all the alcohol he possessed in his chambers, at least.

He grabbed himself a bottle of red wine, immediately opening it up and chugging it from the bottle straight. He couldn’t be sober for this. He wouldn’t be sober for this. When the familiar, soothing, taste of wine filled his mouth did he finally calm down. The sweet and bitter wine — like her, he thought but abruptly dismissed — guzzled down his neck and into his stomach, cooling down the intense feelings that seemed to overwhelm him until he couldn’t breathe.

xxx

Later that night, as he took a fairie with long ash-blonde hair and brown barky skin to bed, he thought of Jude and he hated every single second of it.

[sup-hoes-its-me]

I have a Shikamaru request! It’s a bit long winded so dust with me 😊. Shikamaru is assigned to protect reader who is the last of her clan that a lot is not known about. (So he also has the secret mission of finding our more about the clan and their abilities). They end up falling for each-other (of course). And after reader finds out she is pregnant she learns that Shikamaru was meant to learn about her. I’m seeing some angsty fluffy goodness! And hopefully a happy ending. 🥰

Healing You (Shikamaru x Reader)

A/N: Thank you for your request! These long detailed ones are perfect and give me just enough information to give you the perfect story. I skipped the pregnancy part because im not totally comfortable with that...hopefully you still enjoy.

word count: 5500

Shikamaru had been anticipating this mission for a while. The Hokage told him it was of utmost importance to be ready at any time for this clan princess to show up. He was expected to drop all other missions or plans to escort this woman, whoever she was across the country to her homeland deep within Frost country. He wasn’t expecting much, actually he was expecting probably the worst client ever.

For someone to request escort at the drop of a hat like that, someone with enough money to do so as well... Shikamaru could only assume they were an asshole of the highest caliber. Probably some old woman or a spoiled little child, someone he definitely would not get along with for a month long mission just the two of them. He could remember the urgency in Kakashi’s tone when he assigned the mission, the amount of trust behind his words.

Shikamaru walked into the office casually, hands shoved deep in his pants pockets. Kakashi sat there alone at his desk, looking through paperwork and sifting through piles of white sheets, each with different names and faces. He must have thought long and hard about who he was to pick for this mission, the boy concluded.

This was going to be tiresome, he deduced quickly. Another tedious mission.

“Shikamaru, I have an important mission for you,” the man said clearly. “You can look through these files, if you want, but we don’t have any clear information on this one, I’m afraid.” He tossed over a folder full of records. Death receipts, birth certificates, first hand accounts of battles witnessed. He didn’t know what to make of what he was looking at other than a common last name running across the pages.

Hirawa.

“What is this about?” he questioned.

“In about a month's time, possibly longer, possibly shorter, I don’t have an exact date, you will escort Princess Y/N Hirawa, of the hidden Hirawa clan to the Land of Frost.”

“Who’s on my team?”

He shook his head at that question. “No one. This is a solo mission, and I’m entrusting you alone with this. It’s important you keep your mouth shut about all of this until we know it’s safe, for you and the princess.” Safe? Just what kind of mission was this anyway? Obviously it had something to do with this clan, not that he’d ever heard of them. “She has a bounty on her head, quite large at that. But we believe she can become the key to mastering some ninjutsu, particularly medical jutsu.”

“Well, what’s her clan’s kekkei genkai?”

“That’s what we don’t know, and for you to find out. All we know is that there's some dangerous people out there who want this power, and we need to protect her at all costs, you understand,” he stressed, and Shikamaru nodded. This wasn’t that big of a deal, he guessed. Protecting one girl from some rookie bounty hunters, not to mention he was being sent out alone. This was going to be a walk in the park.

The worst part of it all would be putting up with some troublesome girl for an entire month. Making conversation and having to pretend she wasn’t getting on his last nerve. That would tire him the most.

“Rumor has it, she was never able to awaken her ability, so I’m hoping you can help coax it out of her and see what we’re dealing with.”

“Of course. I’ll figure it out.”

“Good. I’m counting on you. You should take the files to look over in your free time, you’ll have lots of it before this mission. I have copies here for myself,” he motioned to another folder on her desk filled to the brim with papers just like the one he was holding. It was strange to have so much information at their fingertips, but not enough to put a description to their kekkei genkai. They must be secretive, similar to how the Uchiha hides their secrets on the stone tablet, or something.

He left the Sixth Hokage’s office and walked away to his home, where he could more closely go over the information in this folder, try to deduce something from all this random information. He would get to the bottom of this, he was a genius after all. Whether he had the help of this woman or not, he would figure it out for the Hokage.

And so, here he stood outside of Kakashi’s office with all his supplies packed in his bag, dressed for a long mission away from home. The princess had arrived. He was to meet her and then immediately they were supposed to leave off to her homeland.

The Anbu officer to his left opened the door, and motioned for him to walk in. So uptight for just a little meeting, was all this security really necessary, he wondered to himself. As he looked into the room, he spotted Kakashi standing along the window behind his desk with a smaller woman at his side, wrapped up in thick robes made of wool, embroidered with thick silver and white yarn.

Admittedly, her clothes looked incredibly expensive. He questioned how she wasn’t sweating bullets with the typical warm weather outside here in Konoha. He was expecting her to turn around, to be this hideous creature.

“Ah, Y/N, it seems your escort has arrived,” Kakashi hummed, placing a soft hand on the woman’s back as she turned around. When he finally got a good look at her face, he was taken aback, nearly enough to throw him off balance. She was decidedly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life. Wrapped up in those blankets was a young woman, who couldn't be much older than he was, with piercing eyes that immediately cut through his.

Her hair fell just perfectly around her face to frame her features, the soft color suiting her eyes and skin perfectly. Her eyelashes flickered over her eyes a few times as she gazed over at him, and he felt swoon. She had the softest skin he’d ever seen combined with those mesmerizing eyes and the shape of her face which looked like it belonged cradled in his hands.

He felt this inert urge to run in the opposite direction from her, out the room and down the hall, back to home where he could catch his breath. He already knew his cheeks were turning bright red under her stare, and he could tell Kakashi was judging him with those dark eyes of his.

“It’s nice to meet you, Shikamaru Nara,” she hummed, and he felt faint. Even her voice was precious, almost like she was singing. He choked down his breaths, trying to keep his cool the best he could. It was uncharacteristic of him to act this way with a client. He was just her escort, not some pervert. They were going to live together for basically a month, he needed to get a grip on his emotions. “Your Hokage was telling me great things about you.”

“Oh, uh,” he paused, frozen without words to leave his lips, just an empty mind full of her image. He shook his head a bit, eyes now glaring down at the floorboards beneath him. “You too, Princess.”

“Please, just call me Y/N. Princess is just too formal for me,” she told him, waving off the title almost as quickly as it left his mouth. “Kakashi, it was nice getting to know you this morning, I hope to see you and your wonderful village again soon.”

“You’re welcome back whenever you like.”

She rounded the table and approached Shikamaru carefully, eyeing him down as she did so. She took in his appearance and his stance, the emotions she could see radiating off his person from his body language. From the looks of it, he simply appeared flustered and confused. Not exactly the most ideal for the situation at hand, but they would manage. Men usually had a similar reaction when they saw her for the first time, either they were in awe or they were trying to kidnap her.

He nodded in her direction and then to the Hokage before turning around and starting out the door, the girl following closely behind him. He could hear the swishing of her thick robes around her ankles, just barely skimming the floor. He still didn’t know her personality at all, but he wouldn’t mind looking at her once in a while on this trip.

“So, why are you heading to the Land of Frost?” he asked, and she sighed.

“One of the village elders is dying. They believe my kekkei genkai is the only way to reverse the incoming death, and its consequence on my people,” she explained.

“Why doesn’t another one of your clan members do it? Surely the rest of your family lives-”

“There is no one else. I am the last living Hirawa,” she told him simply, and he could sense a bit of ice dripping off her tongue at those words. How could she not be upset recalling the annihilation of her entire clan. “The problem is that I haven’t been able to awaken my kekkei genkai. I’m not sure what they want with a useless Hirawa like me.”

“Listen, I’m sorry about your clan, but calling yourself useless really isn’t-”

“How would you feel, Shikamaru, if you were the only person in the world with the ability to save a human being from their certain death and you couldn’t even activate that gift? You have to understand how that feels for me,” she told him solemnly, her head hung low as she walked toward the gates of the village right beside the boy. People looked at her as she moved through the village, they stared in awe at her clothes and her face and the unique glimmer in her eyes. And she cowered inward, tucking herself into her robes and the fur of her hood even further, away from the prying eyes of this village.

He stayed silent, not really knowing how to respond to what she’d said to him. The sadness and the anger in her tone, deep within her words, was immeasurable. She was in pain, a conflict with herself. He wasn’t going to get into that just yet. They’d only met a few minutes ago.

They left the village together and started on their journey. It was going to be a long month, that’s for sure.

________

It had been a week of walking through the forest already, days of sleeping on the ground beneath the stars, eating rations out of his bag over the fireplace. Originally, he thought this mission would be easy, that she seemed like a normal-ish girl who wouldn’t give him any trouble, but he was wrong.

She was too quiet. It was strange, walking with someone for hours without a single word shared between them. He tried to start up a conversation, and she would reply with one word answers, sometimes if he was lucky, two or three words. She rarely looked at him, choosing to either stare at the ground where she took each step, or up at the stars and the vastness of it all. She was lost in her own mind.

Every night, as they were falling asleep, he could hear her looking over at him, scanning his form for a sign that he was still awake. He would remain still, facing the opposite way on his side, head propped up on his bag. Then, when she thought she was safe, he would hear the sobs run through her weak form. She would shake and quiver, curling in on herself and crying out into the forest for only Shikamaru and the moon to hear.

He felt terrible for her, needless to say. The guilt he felt just from hearing her cries, and knowing her internal struggle was enough to make this trip difficult. His heart hurt for her, as strange as that was to say. Normally, it was easy to remain objective, but with Y/N, it was different. He felt attached. He felt like her problems were also his. It was maddening.

She laid on the ground beside him, the majority of her soup still in her bowl and her water bottle resting at her side. She stared up into the clouds, occasionally, her eyes would slide over to see what he was up to and then she would look back at the sky. “You need to eat. We have a lot of walking until we reach the next town, probably a week’s worth. I can’t carry you if you get too tired,” he told her, pushing her bowl closer to her side.

“You know, Shikamaru, sometimes I wonder why people like you Leaf nin even protect someone like me. What’s the point? I’m useless to you and the enemy,” she muttered hopelessly. He still pushed the soup closer until she sat up and took the bowl into her hands, taking a small sip from the spoon. “I just don’t get it. How can you call me princess when I’m just as normal as the next woman on the street?”

“Listen, I don’t know what anyone else has told you, but that’s a load of bullshit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, just because you can’t access your abilities right now doesn’t make you useless. You’re still a person just like everyone else,” he explained, stabbing his spoon into his soup as he found himself getting a little worked up. He couldn’t stand this self-pitying bullshit from her. Yeah, she was sad and all, but she didn’t have to rub it into the wound like this.

She looked surprised at his words.

What did she expect him to say? That she was right and then just abandon her out in the woods? He was beginning to think this girl was just plain stupid.

“It’s just been impossible since the incident to think of anything else. I’m sorry for upsetting you,” she sighed, taking another sip of her now cold soup.

He questioned carefully. “What incident?” He was on a mission after all. To discover her clan secrets and bring them back to the village to study. Even if she was being emotional, he could still gather some intel.

She bit her lip, and looked up to the sky again, blinking back tears from gathering in the corners of her eyes. She took a few deep breaths before explaining herself. “The day my clan was massacred. The day that those people slaughtered my sensei in front of the entire village and then killed my parents.”

He paused, lifting his eyes to look at her. She was crying, as he expected, silent tears dripping from her eyes into her lap. But she was holding strong otherwise, not a falter in her voice or a catch in her breath. She wasn’t even shaking. She was really serious about keeping these emotions private, in the middle of the night where he couldn’t hear or see.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he assured, but she shook her head.

“I’m fine. I should talk about it anyway. I haven’t had a person to talk to in years, you know.” Sitting on her face was the saddest of all smiles, a weak attempt at remaining strong. She wiped at her eyes with her wrist and continued. “I’m not even sure why they wanted us all dead, but it had something to do with the war and my clan’s actions. They were barbaric. They slit the throat of my sensei in town square and we watched her blood drip across town while they carried her head.”

“Oh, damn.”

“I know,” she agreed, “As sick as it is to say, I’m glad they only stabbed my parents with a sword. We used to be royalty, it took them killing an entire army of soldiers to get to the throne room to kill them. I was only a child hiding in the curtains, I had to watch without making a sound. I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t even breathe, or they would have killed me too.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. That’s horrific.”

“When they left, it was only me. I had to walk my way to one of the outer villages for help. I was a mess, covered in my parents blood. They’d stolen everything. All the secrets of the clan. I never got the chance to read the sacred texts. I only know from my Sensei the very basics of what we can do.”

He absorbed what she had said, taking in each word. Admittedly, she lived a terrible, horrible life, one to rival Sasuke at that. He asked, “You haven’t been able to retrieve any of the texts, have you?”

“No, unfortunately. That’s why it’s taken me this long to figure out how to unlock my ability. I literally do not know how,” she confessed, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. “It feels strange, knowing I have this ultimate healing ability and I can’t even use it to save anyone.”

“Ultimate healing ability?”

“Well, yeah. That’s our kekkei genkai. We can heal basically anything besides death. Blindness, deafness, rotting limbs, in some cases, paralysis. I’m not sure how it works, but that’s what it does. That’s why they want me to come home so desperately. I’m the only one left who can heal her.”

“You’ll figure it out,” he stated bluntly, and she tilted her head to the side in confusion.

“What?”

He reiterated, “You’ll figure out how to use your kekkei genkai. I believe in you. You’re beautiful, smart, and modest, not a fool.”

She found her cheeks begin to heat up at his words, and she leaned back, her eyes catching onto his. “Thank you, Shikamaru. It’s not everyday I get earnest compliments like that.” It was true. Normally, she did get compliments, but not the nice kind. She would often get harrassed on the street by men without brains, or recieve backhanded comments from people of her own village who hated her for what she could not be.

He shook his head, “Well, you should. You’re a strong woman, you just need more faith in yourself. You have almost no self-confidence whatsoever.” He was right about that too. Sad, wasn’t it? “You’re obviously a good person, so be proud of yourself. Not a lot of people could have gone through what you did and still be on the good side to this day.”

“I-” Y/N froze, her eyes growing wide. “Did you hear that?” she asked, her eyes flickering from Shikamaru into the woods. There were voices, soft and quiet voices, but they were still there, hush in the background. He stood up on his feet, and motioned for her to stay down close to the ground.

“Come out, whoever you are.”

And, indeed, a group of men emerged from the forest, at least ten of them. They sauntered up to the pair and the leader smirked. “We’re not here to hurt you, Leaf shinobi. Just hand over the princess and no harm will come to you,” he said, his voice musty and disgusting, like he’d been smoking cigarettes everyday for the past ten years. They knew, clearly, that a leaf shinobi wasn’t just about to abandon their charge and go running for the hills. His request was a joke.

Y/N wasn’t a fighter. She couldn’t help even if she wanted to. She was solely a healer, and even then, her skills were shaky at best. She could only do the most menial and mediocre of work on her patients. Shikamaru was against these men completely alone.

She felt fear creeping up her spine and sending shivers through her body. She barely knew the boy, had only known him for a week or so, but damn, did she like him. He was kind to her, one of the kindest people she’d met in a long time. She wanted him to be safe, to save her and come out on top like the shinobi of the Leaf are supposed to.

He turned around and waved for her to run. “Princess, Imma need you to run. I’ll come find you when it’s safe. Just go.”

She was hesitant to take off, but one stern look from him shot down any thought of staying. The woman gathered up her robes and ran in the opposite direction of the crew and her protector. Immediately after she left, she heard screaming from behind, the shouts of men in pain and men filled with anger. So much yelling. She held her breath, and kept running, running until she could only hear the faint yells of the men. She couldn’t hear Shikamaru. He was far too quiet to have those loud theatrics on the battlefield.

Y/N took cover in the roots of a tree, and just listened, felt what was going on around her. She studied the chakra signatures floating through the air, counting how many men still lived and how many were alive and well. Likewise, she kept close track of Shikamaru’s energy, making sure he was still going.

If he died, she didn’t know what would come of her. Would she be sold off? Murdered? She knew of the unspoken bounty on her head amongst the criminals, and that struck fear in her heart. All she could do was pray for Shikamaru’s survival.

After what seemed like hours but in reality only about 10 minutes, the screams and shouts finally came to a halt. The chakra signatures of most of the men were completely gone, meaning they had died sometime during the battle. Only some remained, and they were weakened severely, probably passed out or bleeding out.

Shikamaru’s alarmed her. It was weak, almost as weak as the rest. She crawled out from under the tree and started back in the direction of the campsite, keeping her head low nearly in a crouch to stay unseen. There was no telling what was happening over there or who was still out here.

When she got to the campsite though, her eyes widened and she nearly screamed. While the rest of the men collapsed on the ground in bloody heaps, Shikamaru lay in the middle of them, bleeding out from a ginormous wound protruding from his side. She fell onto her knees beside his barely breathing form and held her hands over the wound, trying her best to run her chakra through her, but she was weak. Only a faint light emanating from her hands, not enough to come close to saving him.

“Shikamaru? Shikamaru, can you hear me? Please, try to stay awake, okay?” the girl pleaded, resting one of her soft hands on his cheek. He sighed into her touch. It was just as he imagined. Warm and gentle, like the caress of a feather. At least, if he were to die, it would be in the arms of an angel, he decided.

“You need to head back to the Leaf. Tell Kakashi what happened,” he sputtered out, blood leaving his lips and dripping down the sides of his face. “I lived a good life.”

“No, no, no. You are not dying on me. Not happening,” she whispered. She continued to pour her chakra into his wound, not that it was doing anything serious. Tears filled her eyes and she bit her lip, trying to keep them from falling, but she couldn’t help it. All these tears plagued her life. Memories that made her cry. All the pressure. All the death. Poor Shikamaru lying here dying after saving her life. “I’m going to save you,” she muttered firmly.

Pressure built up in her chest and she pushed further and further, digging deeper into her chakra reserve. It actually hurt the amount of effort she was putting in. It was exhausting, and after about a minute, she was gasping for breath. “Stop. It’s okay, princess.”

“Dammit, Shikamaru, I told you not to call me princess, “ Y/N shouted, and in that moment, she felt something shift inside her. A well of energy she never knew she had opened up and she felt it being filled not by her own chakra but by the men around her. Her body absorbed every last bit of chakra in their bodies, filling hers completely. When Shikamaru looked up at her, he noticed a slight glow coming from her skin that wasn’t there before.

It seemed she awoke her kekkei genkai.

With all the newfound energy she had, she channelled it into saving Shikamaru. Right in front of her eyes, his wound began to close and blood sunk back into his body. He groaned at the feeling, shifting uncomfortably on the ground. Finally, she had done something great.

And as she watched the last bit of his wound shut and the blood to seep back into his body, she found herself grow lightheaded.

As she was passing out, she heard him calling her name, and the only thing she could do was smile. She did it. She saved him. Her vision went black and sleep overtook her swiftly.

________

After Y/N saved Shikamaru and awoke her kekkei genkai, the boy gathered up both of their belongings, hoisted them over his shoulder, and then carried her in his arms to the next village. She wasn’t waking up anytime soon, he found that was probably a bad side effect of using the ability. It completely drained her. He just knew he had to move before any of those guys woke back up. He was not ready to fight again.

He enjoyed feeling her in his arms, pressed tightly to his chest with her head lolling side to side. Y/N was sweet and cute, with her little, “don’t call me princess” proclamation before saving him. It seemed she was just as much a princess as everyone thought she was, and a powerful one at that. She basically brought him back from the dead, and he would be grateful for his entire life for what she’d done for him.

The two of them rested for the night in a village inn just a couple miles away before waking up the next morning and setting off with a new bounce in her step toward your homeland where she was sure she could save the village elder now. He watched as the girl walked eagerly in front of him, swinging her robes by her sides and letting her hair loose instead of a tight braid.

This side of her, it was gorgeous. She was gorgeous. Maybe, he found himself harboring just a tiny crush on the girl who saved his life, the girl who took his breath away when they first met. Maybe he liked her a lot. It was pointless to have such feelings for a girl he would probably never meet again after dropping her off in her homeland.

But he could enjoy his time now, with the girl of his dreams at his side.

He found himself wanting more time with her. Much more time. He knew they only had about a week before they arrived in the Land of Frost, and it was depressing him. He wanted her to come back to the village with him and live there, just so he could see her face everyday and hear that sing-song voice run off her tongue.

Was that so much to ask for? Well, yes, but he still wanted it…

They found themselves stopped for the night or two in a village on the coast. She was tired from all the walking and sleeping in the grass. She was willing to spend a few dollars to have a nice bed to sleep in for the night. She booked a room at one of the inns in town and collapsed into the mattress in the room, throwing her robes to the side and cuddling into the comforter. It had been so long since she was living in such comfortable conditions.

He took a seat beside her and pulled out a book, flipping to the most recent page and diving in. He was more than happy to finally rest. He was lazier than she was, after all. They had been walking for almost a month now, he was tired of it. The only thing that kept him going was seeing her smile every now and then, especially the ones directed at him, or in response to something he said.

Something about those smiles just made him feel good inside. It was sickening. These mushy, gushy feelings he was having. He was beginning to think he might be falling for the girl, like, falling in love. He was disturbed. Was he really that weak to a pretty face, soft hands, and a warm heart?

“Shikamaru?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ll be home in a week, and you’ll have to go back to the Leaf Village,” she said. He nodded. At that point, they would go their separate ways and it would all be over, this friendship they had. He’d never felt so torn about a mission until now.

He replied casually, “Yeah. Time flies, huh?”

She held her breath for a moment, thinking over her next words very carefully. She’d actually been pondering when she was gonna tell him over the last few days, thinking over every way the scenario could play out. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to leave you, Shikamaru,” she confessed, finally letting go of the breath she was holding.

He raised a brow, setting down his book and turning to face her. “What do you mean?”

“Well...it’s just that your Hokage seems to really like me, and I don’t really have a home anymore with my clan gone,” she mumbled, twiddling her fingers in her lap. “I was thinking maybe after I heal the elders and the village that I could go home with you instead. Live in the leaf village.”

He just looked at her. Had all his longing been for nothing? Could she really mean it? Coming home with him? Could his future really involve seeing her every day, introducing her to his best friends, and healing his people when they were injured?

“I mean, if you don’t think it’s a good idea, though, I totally get it-”

“No! I-I love that idea, actually.”

“Really?”

“Would I say it if I didn’t mean it?”

He watched as her lips curled into a bright smile and she clasped her hands together. “Shikamaru, I’m so happy. You and the other Leaf nin are the only people to show me any kindness in a long time. I get to go home to people that will care about me.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty good at that back in the Leaf. Caring, that is.”

She fell back against the bed and sighed, curling up in the sheets once again. He watched as she smiled into the covers and closed her eyes, relishing in this feeling of newfound freedom and happiness, of the hope she found in him and the village. Despite finding women troublesome most of the time, he was willing to go through trouble for her. He felt like he’d do just about anything for this girl.

So unlike him. Tch. Get a grip, Shika.

Her next words had him melting like putty in her hands though. He just couldn’t help it.

"I'm glad you were assigned this mission with me. You helped me awaken my abilities, and I think it was fate that brought us together for that to happen," she sighed. "This meeting, you and I, it was always meant to be. I'm sure of it now."

"Maybe you're right. I wouldn't know," he replied.

It was quiet for a while, just her lost in her own dreams, her own thoughts. Her eyes trailed over to him, and she just knew she was swoon. With his lazy grin and his thoughtful gaze. It was so obvious to her now.

She confessed, “I think I like you. As more than just a friend, Shikamaru. I know I probably shouldn’t be telling you this considering I still need you to escort me to the village and all, and you might not want me to go back to the Leaf with you now, but I just-”

He couldn’t wait anymore. He was going crazy. Finally, he kissed her.

She felt his hands resting on either side of her head and his lips pressed carefully to hers, testing the waters. She brought her own hands up to cup his own, bringing him closer and deeper into the kiss. She smiled and sighed, enjoying the feeling of pure bliss. It had been so long since she felt something so good. Something so sweet.

“You like me too?”

“You’re dumb as hell.”

And he kissed her again. And again. And maybe a couple more times after that.

[fantomcomics]

What’s Out This Week? 8/3

Thanks to everyone that visited the shop over Otakon weekend!

Elle(s) #1 -  Kid Toussaint & Aveline Stokart

Elle is just another teenage girl...most of the time. Bubbly and good-natured, she wastes no time making friends on her first day at her new school. But Elle has a secret: she hasn't come alone. She's brought with her a colorful mix of personalities, which come out when she least expects it...

Who is Elle, really? And will her new friends stand by her when they find out the truth?

Golden Rage #1 (of 5) -  Chrissy Williams & Lauren Knight In a world where older women who've been deemed useless to society are abandoned on an island, GOLDEN RAGE documents their golden years of making friends, baking dessert, and fighting to the death.

Survival Street #1 (of 4) - James Asmus, Jim Festante & Abylay Kussainov

After an unbridled wave of corporations take over America, the country is left completely deregulated and effectively carved up into feudal states where billionaires and businesses make their own laws. Among the wreckage, mass privatization shuts down public broadcasting, forcing all the beloved "edutainers" out on the down and dirty streets. One group of them stick together, determined to keep helping kids across the country and do it by becoming an A-Team-esque band of mercenaries fighting for (and educating!) kids in the crumbling, corporate war zone of New Best America.

The Dead Lucky #1 -  Melissa Flores & French Carlomagno San Francisco is changing. Tech consortium Morrow is building the city of the future with "peacekeeper" robots looming on every corner-and wherever Morrow isn't, the Salvation gang is. Bibiana Lopez-Yang is changing too. She came back from Afghanistan with PTSD and the ability to control electrical currents. If she can hold it together, she might be the hero San Francisco needs. But against an enemy this big, it isn't enough to be good. She'll have to be lucky.

One Piece GN Vol 100 - Eiichiro Oda

LET’S GOOOOOOOOO

Hawk The Slayer #1 (of 5) - Garth Ennis, Henry Flint & Greg Staples

A few years have passed since Hawk and his trusty band of warriors defeated the evil wizard Voltan, but Hawk is still uneasy, fearing that the Dark wizards have only temporarily disappeared and are due to return. Once again, Hawk must assemble a team of warriors to confront the returning evil. The Mind Sword may be the key to saving the world, but is it also responsible for the resurgence of these ungodly forces?

New Fashion Illustration Outfit Ideas For All GN - Pie International

Forty new artists have contributed a selection of their own special style of illustration, this time featuring twin styles. While the previous edition was all about women's fashion, this edition features a more diverse range of fashion illustrations, including men's, unisex, body-positive, and multinational styles. This title also focuses mainly on works by illustrators in their teens and twenties, guaranteeing a showcase of the very latest trends. As in the previous book, we have selected the paper quality for each page individually to maximize the appeal of the illustrations, making each turn of the page an exciting sensory and stylistic experience.

Whatcha picking up to kick off August, Fantomites?

[kazuharem]

“Partners in Pleasure” ↠ Lucien x MC [SMUT]

AO3 Link: here

Pairing: Lucien x Female MC (Pre-Eternal Winter Lucien if you squint)

Part II of the “Forgive and Forget” Series. This is “Forget”

Part I: here (I strongly suggest reading this first if you haven’t)

Spoiler Warnings: CONTAINS SPOILERS FROM CHAPTERS 24 AND AFTER

SPOILERS CONTAINS/MENTIONS:

◦ CH. 21, 24, and after (?) ◦ Lucien’s “Dumbstruck Date,” “Hiking Date,” and “Gloomy Date” ◦ Lucien’s phone calls “Promise” and “Origami Class” ◦ Lucien’s Rumors & Secrets “Beneath the Iceberg”

Other Warnings: Rough/oral/unprotected s&x, fingering, edging, begging, jealous!Lucien

Genre: Angst, Smut

Description: Lucien gets jealous of...Lucien and proposes an addition to their cooperation

Summary: “Did 'he' touch you like this? Your 'Lucien?'"

Word Count: 8,500

Author’s Note: This has been inspired by my frustrations with “Gloomy Date” (I am not okay). Also, I heard Taylor Swift's "Illicit Affairs" and thought it sort of fit the setting for this. (I don't actually know anymore, this game has ruined me, ok). 

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters, plots, artwork. They belong to ELEX and Paper Games. Lyrics of “This Love” and "Illicit Affairs" belong to Taylor Swift. Like always, lines taken straight from the plot have "*" in front of it. Please enjoy (and cry with me)!

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

“Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

And you know damn well For you, I would ruin myself A million little times” 

Lucien gazed at his computer screen. After knowing that his research would come to fruition in three years, he had been throwing himself into work. Ever since the Queen had agreed to cooperate with him and get information together, Lucien had been working endlessly. Even though getting the Queen’s cooperation meant having access to a shortcut that many would absolutely kill to get their hands on, he had been hesitant about using the Queen’s genes. A part of him didn’t want her to become something of a lab rat in his research. He frowned slightly. Focus on work, he told himself sternly. Stop thinking about her. But it was useless. These past few weeks, she had been popping up unbidden in his thoughts. He would often wonder if she’s doing alright, whether she was safe or not. It was one of the reasons why Lucien hadn’t contacted her ever since they had gone hiking that day. That had been well over a month now. His fingers paused on his keyboard. He couldn’t shake off the feeling of déjà vu. Sighing, Lucien took off his glasses and pressed his fingertips to his eyelids.

A series of images appeared before his closed eyes. An elegant bar in a classy hotel suite. A small stage with a microphone. A text unanswered: *<Come to our team party in 3 days at the Petrichor. I want you to come, but I understand if you’re busy> A question asked: *“Who is most important to you and why?” A song shared between two lovers.

A groan broke the still, midnight air. These visions made no sense to Lucien. They weren’t concrete enough to be pieced together, but he guessed that it was from the other ‘him.’ That made absolutely no sense since they were in two completely different timelines. How could these memories appear in his head if the two timelines were independent of each other? Lucien shook his head and closed the graphs on his computer. He then opened the folder labeled “Memory.” It was still empty. Frowning, he typed a series of sequences and waited. An error message popped up and his head dropped into his hands with a sigh. He knew a lot of his questions would be answered if he could retrieve the lost Dream Test data. But for whatever reason, nothing he tried seemed to work.

Lucien gazed at the moonless night and his thoughts wandered back to that day she had purposefully lured him out to Ultima Bioresearch Center. He recalled the forlorn expression on her face as she stubbornly told him *she wanted to learn about the Queen’s existence, despite him telling her that the truth will bring nothing but destructive repercussions.

*“With truth always come pain and suffering. I will not run from it. Someone important to me told me this and that he would be with me along the way. I believe in him.”

His fist unknowingly curled into a tight fist. He still didn’t know why he had felt so angry hearing her speak about the important person in her life. Why should he care?

And then later, she had showed no regard for her own safety, but worried more about him being hurt.

*“My instincts led me here. Because someone once told me to trust my instincts when in danger.”

And then he remembered the way she had reached for him when he had slipped, causing both of them to tumble down the hill.

*“I couldn’t leave you injured alone.”

She’d rather both of them get hurt than Lucien getting hurt alone. Lucien’s lips curved up in a small smile, “Silly girl,” he mused aloud to the silent room, a hint of fondness creeping into his voice. He stared at his reflection off the dark computer screen, still displaying that error message. What’s gotten into him? It was like her innocent smile had taken root within his heart making him addicted and hopelessly so. The feelings stirred up the urge to protect her, to want to keep her safe.

“Fool.”

He didn’t know if the word uttered was directed to the girl or to himself.

His phone lit up, catching his attention, and he gazed at the screen. Lucien smiled unconsciously; it was like his thoughts about her had physically manifested into this text message.

*<Haven’t we agreed to cooperate? We should at least exchange information on a regular basis>

He chuckled at her aggressiveness and was about to reply when suddenly a sharp pain pierced through his chest, leaving him gasping for breath. Setting the phone down, he managed to grab a recording pen from his drawer before doubling over in pain. Responding to her would have to wait.

The next morning, Lucien invited her to a bookstore near her home. She was right. They should exchange information on a regular basis. One month had been far too long and Lucien could hardly admit to himself that he did missed her.

He hesitated and added: *<It’s okay if you’re not. I’m going to spend the whole day there anyway. You can come look for me anytime you have time>

Glancing at the clock, Lucien sipped his coffee and flipped through the pages of the book he was holding. He had no doubt that she would come.

After an hour or so, he sensed her presence and lifted his head. And there she was, throwing the world into faint colors. There was a nervous look on her face, but that steadfast determination was always present. She looked tired, but Lucien had never felt such sudden happiness at the mere sight of her. Lucien watched her approach and saw the image of him and only him reflected in her beautiful eyes. That observation filled Lucien with some sort of pride and his heart swelled. He was the only one in her eyes. As she was for him.

He smiled at her as she pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. They made small talk before a waiter brought over the food he had ordered.

*“Have something to eat first,” Lucien invited, nodding at the waffle and ice cream.

Her face tightened, *“I’m not hungry.”

Still so stubborn. Lucien wanted to laugh. Instead, he started cutting the waffle for her. *“It’s okay to be angry at me, but don’t starve yourself,” he said, handing her the cutlery. Lucien could see the hesitation in her eyes as she gazed apprehensively at him. He chuckled. *“I won’t know how to share these interesting stories with you if you keep starving yourself. Before you came, I was reading a very interesting fairytale about a…” He intentionally trailed off.

That did it. Her eyes widened in interest. *“A what?” She asked curiously despite her reservations.

Lucien smiled again and pushed the plate closer to her as an answer. Resigned, she began eating quietly as he watched her. He enjoyed watching her, seeing her eat drew up inexplicable emotions within him. How domestic. He wanted to laugh at himself. Moments where he felt entirely content were rare and they only occurred in her presence. He was never one to enjoy such simple pleasures. Silly girl, what did you do to me?

She finished and looked up at him. He smiled approvingly and was about to say something when he felt that familiar sharp pain in his chest.

No! Not now! Of all the times, why does it have to be now?

His fists clenched as he tried hard to hide the pain that was threatening to bow him over.

Her eyebrows drew together anxiously. *“Are you okay?” He should’ve known that nothing would escape her gaze.

Struggling to keep the pain down and reassure her at the same time, Lucien sucked in a shuddering breath as he gave her some stupid excuse. She didn’t need to see this. And he didn’t want her to see him like this, didn’t want her to worry about him. Lucien was also afraid that if his EVOL were to go out of control, he could hurt her. He needed to leave before that could happen. *“I’m afraid I can’t accompany you today.” He stood up to leave when she grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back into his seat. His eyes narrowed as his body trembled. *“You want me to stay?”

*“I just want to take you to the hospital,” she bit her lip, worry evident in those eyes.

*“You’re putting yourself in danger for stopping me like this,” Lucien could barely hold himself up as he grit out those words. It was getting harder and harder to breathe by the second.

Silly girl, have you no sense for your own safety?

She stared defiantly at him, *“If the danger is from you, I think I can handle it.” She reached out to grab his arm. “Don’t underestimate me. I am Queen.” Determination blazed in her eyes. It was the first time Lucien had heard her state her title with such fierceness. “I’m not going to sit here and ignore what’s happening to my partner.” Lucien staggered to his feet as sweat poured down his back. She steadied him. *“Come back with me if you don’t want to go to the hospital. You need a safe place to rest. I’ve helped you twice, so can you at least trust me once?”

Lucien wanted to chuckle at her words. She always had her guard up around him, always appeared so reserved. It was her who didn’t trust him, yet she was blatantly asking that he trust her. Very well, he would place his trust in this silly girl. He nodded slowly as he carefully gathered the books.

*“Since I’ve promised to share with you some interesting stories... I can’t go back on my word,” he answered her questioning glance and handed her some of the books. “On the way back, you can see if any of these books interest you.” She appeared indifferent, but the turmoil in her eyes proved otherwise. Lucien frowned slightly but had no time to dwell on that matter as he lurched forward, the pain becoming more and more intense.

*She allowed him to lean on her shoulders as she dragged them to her apartment. The moment she opened her apartment door, Lucien stumbled over to the couch, loosening his tie. He tried to take in breaths as he shuddered, nearly bowed over with pain. Seeing how worried the girl looked, Lucien grabbed her wrist and tried to reassure her.

*“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked, thick concern lacing her voice.

*“…I never thought…I’d become the one who always needs protection…when I’m with you,” Lucien gasped out, still holding tightly onto her wrist. And it was true. It was she who had saved him from getting stabbed by Hades. It was she who had tumbled down a hill together with him for fear of him getting hurt. And now, it was she who had brought him back to her apartment so that he could be in a safe place.

She bit her lip anxiously, not knowing what to do or say as her hands clenched nervously.

*When Lucien felt the pain subsiding, he reached out to pat her head. “I’m alright now,” he tried to console her. Silly girl, don’t worry so much about me.

She stood up shakily and exhaled. “Let me get you some water,” she murmured.

*“Thank you,” Lucien said softly when she came back. Her forehead was still creased with worry and Lucien felt a different pang in his chest. It seemed that he always managed to put her in some kind of pain. *“I’m alright now. But you still look quite nervous.” He sat up slowly.

*“Do you…need anything? I have some painkillers,” she offered, still watching him with concern. “Or…Let me take you inside to get some rest?” She added hesitantly.

Lucien stood up slowly and she grabbed him to lead him to her bedroom. He held on tight to her.

*“Rest here. I’ll be reading outside,” she said quietly and turned to leave, but Lucien didn’t let go of her.

Much too trusting.

The feelings of wanting to protect her overwhelmed him and he tugged her hand, pulling her onto the bed.

Shocked, she gaped up at him.

*“I’m really worried about how you react in the face of danger,” Lucien spoke up, his voice was low. “You shouldn’t let your guard down in front of a new partner you just met.”

So naïve. So innocent.

She struggled to free her hands, *“Let go of me,” she glared up at him.

Ignoring her futile attempts to escape, Lucien continued, *“What makes you so sure that you can handle it?”

The girl didn’t answer and glared angrily at him.

Sudden movement near the window caught Lucien’s eyes. A flock of paper origami butterflies hanging in strands above the bed fluttered in the wind, almost as if they were taking flight. Lucien loosened his hold on the girl underneath him, letting her go. He quickly moved away from her. There was the tiniest bit of shock that passed across his gaze before it was steeled away behind stormy eyes.

*“Sorry,” Lucien muttered, his voice was solemn and tinged with regret. He had almost lost control. How did that happen? *“What happened to me was completely unexpected,” he began hesitatingly. Trying to compose himself, he continued, *“I feel that I should formally apologize to you, in all aspects… And I’m also thankful for your trust and for you taking care of me.” She wasn’t looking at him. Lucien swallowed. *“Did I…scare you?”

*“Just a little,” she replied quietly, finally turning to meet his gaze. He couldn’t read her expression. It was closed off, but within her eyes, there were swirling emotions which looked like they might break through the surface if Lucien pushed her just a bit.

*“When did I scare you? Was it when I wasn’t feeling well…or just now when I…” he trailed off.

*“When you weren’t feeling well,” she cut in. Her gaze turned sharp, *“Before today, I thought you were at least capable of taking care of yourself.” Lucien could sense disappointment in her voice.

He smiled wryly, “I see that I have let you down.”

She eyed him cautiously, but her expression still contained traces of worry. *“So, you have no intention of telling me what happened to you exactly?”

*“As a matter of fact, I never intended to hide anything from you since the beginning,” Lucien answered honestly, *“Before I handed you the key to the Black Cabin, I tried to explore its secrets. As a result, there were some effects.” He saw her brows crease and spoke up hastily, *“But don’t worry, they are gradually fading away. Their frequency and duration are both decreasing. I’m sure I’ll be fine in a few days.”

There were still worry between her brows. Lucien had an urge to press it out, but he didn’t. “This one month you’ve disappeared for…” she began slowly.

What a strange girl. She knew he was dangerous and yet she was constantly worried about him.

*“I had other matters to attend to besides dealing with the side effects,” Lucien interjected smoothly. A breeze blew in, sending the paper butterflies flying again. Lucien moved off the bed and finally turned his attention to them. *“Did you fold them?” He asked quietly, fingers brushing across the delicate creatures. “So pretty,” the words slipped out of his mouth of their own accord.

And suddenly Lucien had a vision of paper cranes hanging in strings, just like these butterflies, against a window in which gray rain beat down upon.

“Why are you being gentle to me again?”

*“A very interesting question. But, before answering you, I also want to clear something up. Each time I push you away, why do you keep coming back to me?”

A singular paper crane came into mind, with a tearstain blot mottling its wings.

*“That’s my answer. But the process of achieving this takes time and patience.”

As fast as the vision had appeared, it was gone the moment Lucien tried to grasp onto it. His eyes widened imperceptibly. Where did that come from? The voices that had whispered the words…It was no doubt his voice and hers. But Lucien did not recall those words ever leaving his mouth. And yet, just like the dream he had, he felt an intimate familiarity. Is this…could this be the missing data from the Dream Test?

Not noticing his confusion, the girl stood up and closed the window. Silently, she began untangling the strings next to him.

*“Can you teach me how to fold them when you’re free?” The question slipped out of his mouth before he could even think about it.

*Her fingers froze. “No…” her voice was hushed, shaky with unshed tears. “I don’t think you’d be interested in such meaningless stuff right now.”

Did she used to fold these with the other ‘him’?

Lucien paused, “Right now?” He asked, smiling as he reached out to help her. *“If it’s something ‘he’ likes, I’ll probably be interested too.” Lucien’s voice hardened. There was emphasis on the “he.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out who he had meant.

This was entirely ridiculous. Why was he feeling this way? There was no need for him to feel like this. After all, this was him from another time, another dimension.

She looked at him in shock, speechless.

Lucien chose his next words carefully, *“You are the Queen, so maybe you can stand on a higher dimension and see the truth that I can’t,” he smiled wryly, “So I believe that you have your reasons for every word that you say and every choice that you make.” He finished untangling the butterflies for her, but a certain one caught his eye. “Something seems to be hidden in this origami butterfly?” His fingers caressed the extra thick butterfly. “But I suppose I’ll find out when the time is right,” he said resignedly.

Lucien pulled away and reached to button his shirt before her soft voice stopped him.

*“Do you…do you like paper cranes?” She asked, staring at the butterfly that contained her note.

Lucien froze. Did she know about his vision?

Before he could reply however, that same tearstained paper crane appeared in his mind’s eye. This time with some faint writing on its wings.

*“I wish Lucien and I forever…”

*”For every forever that you wished for, I’ll be there. I promise.”

*“Paper cranes?” Lucien heard himself asking. “Yes, they also have a beautiful design,” he answered distractedly.

“*Maybe we can start with them. I’ll teach you,” her eyes met his squarely for the first time. There was the usual pain in her eyes. The pain of being forgotten by everyone. By the ‘him’ from a different time. But this time, there was something else.

Hope.

And it was beautiful.

For the first time, Lucien could see golden sunlight filtering lazily through the window. Vibrant and warm.

And somewhere, at the back of his mind, he wondered, was this how the other ‘him’ felt as well? Was he able to see these indescribable colors that lit up the world so brilliantly?

He also wondered if the other ‘him’ had let her go. The lone butterfly that had brought color into his world.

Lucien smiled when he processed her words. “Did I hear that right? So you will teach me how to fold origami?”

*“I’m sure you’ll master it soon. Maybe you can even teach me afterwards. After all, you look like a renaissance man,” she allowed herself to crack a tiny smile.

Lucien chuckled, *“Although I’m glad to have given you that impression, I probably don’t have as many areas of expertise as you think. If you’re interested, you have plenty of opportunities to slowly discover them,” he offered.

She hesitated, “As partners, maybe we can…”

*“Get to know each other more and build a stronger relationship?” Lucien finished for her. “Well, I’m glad to do so,” he smirked.

She eyed him, *“I find it hard to imagine that you’d want to learn origami seriously,” she admitted after a beat.

*“That’s why I said we should get to know each other better,” Lucien replied steadily, smiling. He finished buttoning his shirt when suddenly a thought ran across his mind.

How well did the other ‘him’ know her? Did she, perhaps…love ‘him’?

He paused, his fingers stopping on his tie and he frowned. He did not like the sharp stab of jealousy that ran through him. Love? Lucien wanted to scoff at himself. When did love exist for him? But he couldn’t deny that there was a certain yearning that pulled him to this strange girl. It wanted-he wanted to get to know her, wanted to know how she was able to spill her colors upon his monochrome world, wanted to know every little thing that made her, her. He wanted to experience the things she had done so with ‘him’.

“I have a proposition, if you don’t mind,” he was speaking before he knew it. She looked at him with clear questions written across her face. “Since you expect me to take care of myself, I would think the same expectation should apply to you. And lately, you haven’t looked well. I can only imagine that on top of dealing with everything that has happened so far, you haven’t had the time to take care of yourself. And I think that the events that has happened took quite a heavy toll on you, mentally and physically. After all, the responsibility of safeguarding precious memories is quite a task on its own. So I would like to offer a proposal, an addition to our cooperation.”

Lucien could hardly believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. They had been brought upon directly from the intense yearning.

She was watching him curiously and Lucien sighed internally. He had already started…

“Once we’ve gotten to know each other better, I’d like to offer the presence of my company to you,” Lucien continued. She tilted her head, a confused look in her eyes. He smiled at that and explained, “What I mean by that is because the ‘Lucien’ that you knew must have provided you with a lot of comfort and I’d like to do the same for you. He may have existed in a different time and dimension, but he is still me. I can’t promise that ‘he’ and I will be exactly the same, nor can I promise to do exactly what ‘he’ did. How far things go, how physical, how intimate, will be entirely up to you.”

Her eyes widened and there was a faint pink blushing her cheeks, “Wh-why?” She stammered and fidgeted nervously, eyes skipping away from his gaze.

“Since you are the Queen, you have certain powers. You’re able to access the Black Cabin, which allows you the ability to see across time and space. You have the power to see the different worlds that I can’t. Maybe by utilizing this power, you can bring some parts of the ‘Lucien’ that you know,” Lucien said thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “I’ve been having some strange dreams, as of late. Ones in which the contents are unfamiliar to me and I have no recollection of. However the characters in my dreams are very clearly ‘my’ memories. Tell me, how is it possible for me to have memories of events I don’t recall happening? These dreams and visions have occurred more frequently in your presence. I believe it to be a manifestation of your powers. As Queen, you have the power to connect timelines. So maybe, you have the power to bring ‘him’ back, the ‘Lucien’ from the time and space that you knew.” Lucien concluded.

She looked shocked with his revelations and he could see the glimmer of hope shine ever so brightly in her eyes. “What’s in it for you? What do you get out of this?” She asked hesitantly.

“Me?” Lucien’s smile widened, “Since my plan involve the Queen, I believe understanding all of the Queen’s powers and abilities is absolutely crucial. After all, I need to account for all possible outcomes. If I can witness this power, it will be very helpful indeed.” Seeing how she was still speechless, Lucien finished fastening his tie. “You’re welcome to give my proposal some thought,” he added gently. *“The story I promised you will have to wait until next time. After all, I’ve bothered you enough today.” *He headed for the door when suddenly he felt a tug at the hem of his shirt.

*“I don’t want my partner to fall for no reason,” her voice was soft, but there was a firm warning behind her words.

Lucien understood immediately. *“Okay,”

She nodded, but still not letting go of him. He tilted his head in question. “And about your proposal…” she began, cheeks coloring slightly.

“I told you that you are welcome to have some time to think-”

“I accept,” she cut him off, squaring her jaw and staring him in the eye.

Lucien stilled. “Alright,” he said after some time. *“From now on, I’ll start to think about ways to keep the promise between us. Fulfilling your wishes will always be my top priority.”

“There’s one more thing,” her grasp on his shirt tightened, “I’d like to put it into effect. Your proposal. Starting now.”

Lucien’s eyes widened with shock. There were rarely, if any, instances where he was rendered speechless. He searched her eyes to try to gauge her thoughts only to find a steadfast determination. And something else. Desperation, perhaps. His brow creased, “But my proposal only entails that once we’ve gotten to know each other better,” he said finally.

Her jaw clenched and the fire in her eyes seemed to blaze, “I think I’ve gotten a pretty good idea of what you’re like. And apparently you already seem to know every one of my thoughts. I’d consider that to be ‘we’ve gotten to know each other better,’” her voice was hard.

“Are you sure? Just to let you know, I’m not a gentle lover like your ‘Lucien,’” a wry smirk was playing about his lips.

“You weren’t-” she stopped herself and shook her head, “Gentleness is not what I need right now,” she said instead. Her face reddened at her words, but she didn’t loosen her grasp on his shirt.

“Oh?” Lucien was undoubtedly amused, “I’m not one to hold back though.”

“Good,” the word was a hiss out of her clenched teeth as she reached up to grab Lucien’s tie.

“Don’t hold back,” was all Lucien heard before she pulled.

The kiss was not gentle. Their lips crashed harshly, and their teeth knocked together as she pressed herself desperately to him. Her hands fisted his shirt and Lucien responded in kind, biting down on her lips. He drew blood and she moaned breathlessly into his mouth when the metallic taste spread around their battling tongues. She wrapped her arms around his neck, anchoring herself to him. Lucien’s hands settled on her waist to steady them. Her knees trembled against the onslaught of Lucien’s relentless tongue and Lucien picked her up effortlessly as he walked them over to her bed. She bounced slightly on the bed when he threw her down and turned to look up at him, breath catching in her throat. His eyes were dark and unfathomably cold, like twin pools of violet onyx that could swallow her if she weren’t careful. But she didn’t want to be careful. She wanted to fall, wanted to lose herself in those eyes that were so familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. Reaching for him, her fingers impatiently fumbling at the tie he had fastened earlier, she slammed her lips against his once more.

And it was like a rubber band had snapped.

She tore at his shirt, not bothering with the buttons. Once his chest was bared to her, she broke away with a harsh gasp before raking her nails over his skin. He shuddered at her touch, breath coming out in a sharp hiss. He shed his shirt and his hand caressed the nape of her neck before tugging on her hair, exposing the smooth expanse of her neck.

“My turn,” Lucien murmured, his breath ghosting over her throat. His tongue washed over where he could feel her pulse beating erratically and he bit down. Smirking against her skin when he heard her whimper, he sucked hard on the bite. His fingers danced teasingly along the hem of her blouse before yanking it over her head. He ripped off her bra and skirt before she could even blink and began mapping out the contours of her body with his lips.

Blood pulsed through her ears, drowning out all other sounds. It felt like she was drowning. But she didn’t want a life preserver, no she didn’t need one.

Ever since she had come into this winter world, ever since discovering she had been forgotten by the world, she had felt so lost. Even after Shaw had warned her what was to come, she was still not prepared to lose the very things that had brought light into her world. She could handle Victor, could handle Kiro, and could even handle Gavin not knowing who she was. But when she had walked through the doors of the research institute to peer into the ever familiar eyes, only to be met with cool eyes that had gazed upon her with the expression of meeting a stranger, something within her had broken. He didn’t remember her. Lucien didn’t remember her.

And since then, every meeting they had together, she had tried to reclaim the broken pieces of her within him. She had held onto the hope that somewhere in this time and in this dimension, maybe, just maybe she could find whatever it was she was searching for.

Lucien, upon noticing that she looked distracted, took one of her nipples into his mouth, and bit down. She jerked in shock. “Lu-” she clapped her hands against her mouth before the name can slip out.

No. This was Ares, this was a Lucien who had never met her, never shared all those memories with her.

The man in question paused his ministrations. She watched as his eyes narrow into hungry slits, violet eyes nearly dark as the night. The expression on his face was cold and calculating.

“Hm,” there was a noise of discontent and she held her breath as he crept closer to her, lithe like a panther, and just as dangerous. She fell against her pillow as he caged her in, large hand encircling her wrists to pull her arms above her head. “I wonder,” he started conversationally, but there was an edge underlying his words, “If ‘he’ kissed you like this?” He didn’t give her time to answer, however, as he dove in and attacked her lips mercilessly. With his other hand, his fingers circled her breast, tugging, pinching. She moaned helplessly against his urgent mouth. “Tell me. Did ‘he’ touch you like this? Your ‘Lucien?’” He snarled the name. There was a sudden ripping sound before he plunged his long, tapered digits into her. She arched against him with a broken whimper. “My, my, you’re already so wet,” the man whispered silkily, as if making a mere observation, “And I’ve barely started.” There was a dark promise behind his words, and she squirmed at the thought. He smirked, letting go of her wrists while curling his fingers inside her.

Her mouth fell open with a gasp, “Oh!” His lips attached themselves to the hollow of her neck as his fingers continued to move inside her. There was a fire starting in her, blazing slow and hot deep in her belly, and it was spreading along her limbs. She clung to him, hanging on for dear life, her nails leaving red crescents in his back, when he hit that spot. “Please,” the word left her mouth in a cracked whimper.

The fire grew hot and intense and the noise in her ears crescendoed into a roar.

She was so close. Almost there. Yes. Yes. YE-

And suddenly, nothing.

All sensations stopped.

She opened her eyes to see him sitting back on his heels, serenely licking his slick fingers.

“You-” her voice was hoarse.

“Yes?” He raised a casual eyebrow as he popped his fingers into his mouth slowly.

“Wh-why did you stop?” She blushed, her voice had never sounded so needy.

Taking his fingers out with a light pop! sound, he smirked at her, “I’d like to take my time, you see,” he leaned down and whispered lowly. “It’s more fun that way,” there was that same cruel grin and he moved out of reach before she could pull him in. She scowled and heard him chuckle. The sheets rustled and there was the tell-tale clink of a belt being undone. She slowly sat up and raised her head to watch him free himself from the confines of his pants.

Her breath caught. His cock was standing proudly at attention, curving upwards towards his stomach. There was a shiny bead of white at the tip. Just how she remembered.

The minute he kicked away his pants, she leaned over and slotted her lips over his engorged, leaking tip.

“Ungh!” his hips jerked forward in surprise before he regained control of himself. She raised her eyes to look at him and when she did, she slowly took him in her mouth, little by little until he hit the back of her throat. He threw his head back with a low groan. She bobbed her head, hollowing her cheeks. Her hands came to stroke him where her mouth couldn’t reach. “Ah,” he croaked, his breathing was labored. Spurred on by this, she began to suck him with relish. She continued this for several minutes, gradually increasing her speed when he suddenly wrenched her away, pressing her down with his weight. “Enough,” he hissed as he bit down on her lip. She swallowed into their kiss, his eyes were nearly black. The look on his face was almost feral. “Shall I have a taste as well?”

Before she could respond, he had already slipped between her legs, looking up at her.

“Did ‘he’ taste you like this?” He whispered, puffs of hot air hitting her aching core. A wet tongue ran across her folds, hot and heavy. He watched with a satisfied smirk as she arched off the bed with a needy sigh, fingers digging into the sheets. Her thighs clamped around his head as he traced blazing patterns with his tongue. “So sweet,” he breathed, before delving his tongue inside her.

She could feel the familiar fire build up again, the pressure threatening to knock her over. She wanted to fall off the edge, wanted to see stars burst across her vision, wanted to lose herself.

Her pulsed quickened, her body tightened. So close. Just a little bit more…

And suddenly that wicked tongue was gone.

Her head fell back onto her pillow with a tortured groan, jaw slack. Her fingers fisted the sheets. There were actual tears of frustration in the corner of her eyes.

She heard that familiar, cruel chuckle before a long finger slid into her. She almost sighed with relief, but he didn’t move.

“Please,” she couldn’t recognize her voice, tinged with such desperation.

“Please, what?” His voice sent electrifying tingles throughout her entire body and she trembled. Squeezing her thighs together, she tried to get some form of relief. A large hand forced her legs apart before she could. “You need to be more clear with your requests,” he whispered, tongue swiping lazily across her inner thighs. “What do you want?”

“I…I want to come,” her voice was hoarse, close to tears. “Please. Let me come.”

“Hm,” there was a musing sigh, “I don’t know if I can allow that,” he moved his finger slowly out of her, chuckling when she tried to push her hips upward to meet him. “You see, this was supposed to be your punishment.”

Slack-jawed, she stared at him. This Lucien-no Ares-was indeed ruthless. “Wha-what?” She moaned breathlessly as his finger dipped inside her excruciatingly slow.

He kissed her wet folds gently and her head fell back again with a whimper. “You have invaded my dreams ever since we met,” he growled. “Not only that, but my thoughts as well. I always wondered, if a certain silly girl was staying out of trouble, if she was safe, if she was doing well,” as he spoke, he rocked his finger into her, stoking the flames within her once more.

She struggled to breathe. Between his words and his damn finger, she couldn’t even think straight.

“Don’t you think that requires some sort of punishment?” He asked and slipped another finger into her. “Making me worry about you, silly girl.” With those words, he curled his fingers and his tongue washed over her sensitive nub.

OH!

Her body was instantly ablaze.

He increased his speed as his tongue circled her nub, sending her head spinning. “Please,” she whimpered as she ground her hips against his face. “Please…”

“That does sound tempting,” his voice sent delicious vibrations throughout her, “Shall I let you come?”

She nodded vigorously, “Please,” she pleaded, feeling that ever familiar tightening sensation in her gut, like a tightly coiled spring, ready to snap any time.

“I think I prefer that you come when I’m inside of you,” he smirked and removed his finger. Her head thrashed about in pure frustration. “Patience,” he spoke softly as he came up, pinning her underneath him. “It’s more fun this way. You’ll see.”

She gasped when she could feel his cock pulsing against her entrance. “Please…”

His lips attached themselves to her neck. “What do you want, silly girl?”

“I want you!” She screeched, trying to grind her hips against him. “Take me! Please! Fuck me!”

“Did ‘he’ fuck you like this?” He growled against her ear before slamming into her without warning, finally pushing her off the precipice that he had been mercilessly teasing her on.

All of a sudden, she was flying, weightless. Mere atoms floating in the vast galaxy not tethered to anything. Sweet release filled every crevice, every inch of her. The waves of pleasure that crested and crashed upon her robbed her of any conscious thought except for Lucien, Lucien, Lucien.

She was whole again. Complete. No longer broken.

For a moment, she could believe that it was the Lucien who had woken her up on the lazy mornings in which by some stroke of rare luck, both of them were not busy. The Lucien who had smiled so tenderly at her before whispering a “Good morning, butterfly,” leaning in to kiss her and pressing her gently against the satin sheets. The Lucien who had mischievously grabbed her when she went to his office to drop off some lunch and then later, had bent her over his desk with a “Be a good girl and try not to make any noise,” ghosting over her ear. The Lucien who had slammed her into the wall with a dangerous “Tell me,” hissed angrily through clenched teeth when she was asked about the most important person in her life. The Lucien who had tortured her so ardently that very night as he grit out a “You don’t want to make me jealous again, kitten,” before thoroughly ravaging her. That the Lucien who had looked at her and held her like she was his entire world had come back. And for a singular moment, as she came back down to earth, she allowed herself to believe it. 

“Lucien-” she cried out, reality merging with the man in her dreams. 

He froze. That had been the first time since they met that she had uttered his name. He had been observing her, watching her unravel with pure pleasure, pupils blown out with bliss. Filled with great satisfaction, he had struggled hard to keep his hips still, a monumental task with him still buried deep within her. He knew she was still searching for pieces of the other ‘him’. And as she climaxed around him, her walls fluttering and clenching him (so much that it physically pained Lucien), he hoped that he was able to give her a little bit of comfort.

He hoped that she could find whatever it was she had lost. Or at the very least, he hoped that she could find a little bit of the person she missed so much within him.

There appeared to be another image of her superimposed onto the panting body in front of him. “Ares is not completely Lucien, nor is Lucien completely Ares,” her image seemed to be saying to him. “As long as you’re Lucien or the part that is ‘Lucien’ exists, I will love you. I love you, Lucien.”

A guttural groan escaped from him and the last remaining strands of his self-control, as well as his sanity, snapped. He grabbed her hips, fingers pressing down hard enough to leave bruises. His hips pulled back and slammed into her, making her shriek, her eyes rolling back from pleasure. “Say it again,” he growled, throwing her leg over his shoulder so he could go deeper. “Call my name. Tell me who is making you feel good like this. Say it. Say. My. Name.” Each word gritted out through tightly clenched teeth was accompanied by a savage snap of unforgiving hips.

“Lucien!”

“Good girl,” he panted as he reached between her legs to stroke her roughly in time with his thrusts. “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

He was going to erase any other traces, any other thoughts of other men from her. Even if his rival was himself from another time. But at least, in this time and space, in this moment, she was his.

Her hands came to grip his shoulders, her grip vicelike as he drove without abandon into her. Coming from her mouth were breathless permutations of his name punctuated by the sweetest moans. She held on tight, nails leaving scarlet furrows in his back as his thrusts drove her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel it. Her impending destruction.

“Please, please, please,” she chanted as if offering a prayer to whatever deity that will bring about her absolute ruin. “Lucien, please.” Her leg slipped from his shoulder and she wrapped them around his waist, pushing him deeper within her.

“Come for me,” he snarled, hellbent on his mission to completely annihilate her. Obscene wet sounds of skin meeting skin filled the air.

Suddenly the coil in her stomach sprung free, fire and electricity mixing in a deadly cocktail across her skin. Every single synapse in her body was firing mini fireworks. She was blown apart into a thousand pieces, only to be put back together by the man furiously pounding into her.

Stars. She could see stars. Streaking white across her vision, blurring out everything.

There was a ragged groan and Lucien’s hands dug into her hips, spilling hot and heavy into her. He panted as he stilled. And then his eyes widened in shock.

For the world was painted in brilliant colors that he had never seen before. The gorgeous faint pink flushing her entire body. The gilded yellow of the afternoon light that spilled into the room. The soft blue of the clear sky. The verdant green of the tree standing guard just outside her window. It was like someone had put on a filter on the world, the saturation of hues he had never known about thrown into vibrant clarity. His breath caught in his throat; his eyes thoroughly dazzled. He gazed down at the utterly wrecked girl underneath him. She had made all this happen. Whatever divine power she possessed was able to bring light into his forsaken, dismal world. Or maybe it was just because it was her.

He was not going to let her go now. The only color in his world.

Trembling as her body started its descent, she opened her eyes to find everything hazy. There were tears on her cheeks. Whether it was from the mind blowing explosion or because she missed Lucien so much, she didn’t know.

But there was Lucien right in front of her, smiling down at her in that familiar, tender way. “Silly girl,” he mused fondly, thumbs brushing her wet cheeks. A hand landed on her head gently, patting her in a way that only Lucien could. “Don’t cry.”

“Lucien, don’t-don’t go!”

She heard a sigh of mild exasperation. “My little fool,” the familiar affectionate nickname pricked at her eyes and she closed them to hide the tears. “I won’t go anywhere. I’m always here.” Light kisses rained down on her eyelids, her cheeks like the delicate flutter of butterfly wings.

Something extracted itself gently from her body and she opened her eyes again to look into the familiar violet eyes. Only this time, there was no warm tenderness within them.

“Lu-Lucien?” she croaked.

“Sorry,” he murmured, a hint of regret in his voice when he noticed how she seized up after he had pulled away. He looked down at the mess of red and purple blotches blossoming across her skin. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head silently. “You said you weren’t gentle, and I believe I told you to not hold back,” she said finally, turning her head to look at him as he began to get dressed.

A small grin unfurled, “Indeed. Can I assume that we will be continuing our…’cooperation?’” He buttoned what he could of his ruined shirt and waited.

“Yes,” she said as calmly as she could, but her cheeks betrayed her, blushing bright. Maybe she shouldn’t have tore his shirt like that.

“Very well,” he seemed to be oblivious to her internal struggle, “I’ll look forward to our next cooperation. I do believe I have troubled you enough for today,” his gaze swept across her still naked body and he smirked. “After all, you must be tired.”

She coughed and quickly covered herself. Lucien chuckled as he threw on his black overcoat, pausing before the paper butterflies. A long finger touched one gently. “I hope you can teach me all the beautiful things,” he finally said quietly. “And all these beautiful memories that you shared with the other ‘me’…” there was a touch of sorrow in his voice. “I hope you are willing to share them with me as well.”

Her eyes widened. “You said you only cared about the Queen,” her voice trembled. “So, why…why would you be interested in past memories?”

“Yes, it’s true that I care about the Queen’s powers and potential,” Lucien nodded, finally turning to meet her eyes, “But currently, I’m far more intrigued by you.”

“Wh-why?”

“Why?” He repeated thoughtfully, “I guess you can say… I once believed the world to be rather bleak, if you will. I thought the world only consisted of black and white, and that the other colors didn’t exist. Somehow, you were able to change my mind and showed me that the world contained far more colors than I previously have believed. I am very interested in how you were able to accomplish that.”

There was a sharp intake of breath as she stared at him. She remembered a certain story Lucien had told her in what seemed like ages ago. A story about an artist and a butterfly. It couldn’t possibly be coincidence. But did she dare to hope?

Lucien smiled wryly, “But like I previously mentioned, there will be plenty of opportunities for us to get to know each other, so there’s no rush for me to find out the reason. And if one day…you find that the burden of shouldering these memories alone becomes too much to bear…” his voice became impossibly soft. There was the slightest pause of hesitation. “I hope…that we can create new memories together. And I hope that these new memories will be beautiful ones as well. *Maybe…we can start over…as long as you’re willing to. A fresh start.”

She gazed at him. This man had destroyed her in more ways than she could count. But if she had a choice, she would let him do it again. The pain of being forgotten faded into the dark recesses of her mind. If she could still love Lucien after his betrayal, maybe she could also love this new Lucien in this time as well. She was willing to believe that their love could transcend time and space. That their love was bound by fate. She wanted to believe that she didn’t imagine the flash of panic in his eyes that day at the Ultima Bioresearch Center when she had blocked a shard for him. She wanted to believe that the warmth she had felt when they had gone hiking wasn’t meaningless. She wanted to believe that the little bit of hesitation she had seen just then revealed that Lucien, this Lucien, wanted to create new memories with her. The beautiful memories that they had shared…would be precious keepsakes of the past, and nothing more. She would hold these close to her heart, but maybe…it was time for new ones to come in. After all, the man had burrowed himself so far deep in her heart that there wasn’t room for anyone else. Deep inside, she knew that *as long as the person before her was still Lucien, she was destined to be attracted to him, destined to fall for him-no matter what timeline, no matter what world. As long as there was ‘Lucien.’

“I’d like that,” she finally murmured, her voice hoarse.

She watched as he smiled, and she could believe that the faint tenderness suffusing his violet pupils was there. She could believe that she didn’t imagine the bit of relief in his next words.

*“Okay. Next time, I’ll set aside a whole day to learn origami from you.”

“Tossing, turning, struggle through the night for someone new And I could go on and on, on and on Lanterns burning, flickered in the mind only you But you were still gone, gone, gone Been losing grip, on sinking ships You showed up, just in time

This love is good This love is bad This love is a life back from the dead

This love left a permanent mark This love is glowing in the dark These hands had to let it go free And this love came back to me”

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Fanfic art drawn by: @kwella-kw​

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

For more of my work: 📖

[katehuntington]

Title: Black Dog - part one (prologue) Word count: ±1050 words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part one summary: A hike up Whitehorse Mountain isn’t the toughest challenge the Cleveland family has ever faced, until the snow is tainted by blood. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: A brand new episode of Supernatural: The Sullivan Series starts here! Beta’d by @winchest09​ & @deanwanddamons​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

          Whitehorse Mountain, Washington      November 21st, 2005 - One week ago

     ”C’mon, David!”      Three hikers find their way through the forest on the slopes of Whitehorse Mountain, deep in the wilderness of the Cascade Range. Evergreens rise up high above them, reaching for the clouds. A girl, probably about sixteen years old, walks up front, closely followed by her father. A bit further behind, her older brother halts as he looks over his shoulder. Behind him, in the valley where there is no snow, Darrington lies, protected by the mountains surrounding the small town. The shadows of the ridges they are climbing lay out a blanket of darkness. Across from the valley, the top of North Mountain is covered in white. It’s an amazing sight.

     “Hey, Slo-mo! Hurry it up! We wanna get over the Lone Tree Pass before dark,” his young and enthusiastic sister calls out.      “How much sugar did you have, Ruth?” her brother teases, after which he follows.      “We’ll set up camp below the ridge and continue east first thing in the morning. In about a half a mile, the real fun is gonna start,” their Dad informs, looking at a detailed map while walking.      “I can’t wait to see the view from the summit!” Ruth cheers, eager to reach their goal.

     Jim observes his daughter and smiles. The three of them share a passion for hiking and they go out to tame mountains whenever his work allows it. It became an outlet, especially after his wife passed away two years ago. It was a shock to all of them, but they got through it, as a family. It’s during moments like these that he realizes how lucky he is, still being able to spend time with his daughter and son.      “Slo-mo!” Ruth mocks, glancing at her brother over her shoulder.      “Would you stop calling me that?” David laughs.      “It’s the truth. But I’ll tell you what. I won’t call you names anymore if you make it to camp first,” she dares him.      Ruth turns around and walks further backwards, challenging David. He grins and starts running up the mountain. “You’re on!”

     He passes his father, who shakes his head with a grin on his face. Siblings; it doesn’t matter what age those two are, they will always compete with each other.      “Don’t go too far,” he warns like any parent would.      “You’ll never catch me!” Ruth shouts at her brother.      “Watch me!” David returns.

     He bolts after her, struggling to get through the thick layer of snow. He can hear his little sister laugh in the distance. Sometimes she appears between the tall trees in the black and white surreal world, and then he loses sight of her again. He catches up on her, but just as he’s about to pass his sister, they reach the rocky pass of Lone Tree. Unstoppable, Ruth starts her climb as she slams her axe in the solid ground, conquering the steep trail without a safety line. Trained and skilled, she overcomes the pass, tailed by her brother. 

     “Slo-mo!” she calls him, heaving her fist into the air victoriously.      “Yeah, yeah. You win.” David shakes his head as he drops his backpack down in the snow.

      Out of breath, David takes a moment to enjoy the view. Ruth, who has been running all this time and was too busy beating her brother, looks aside and witnesses the most beautiful scenery she has ever seen. Mountains as far as the eye can reach, down below an untouched valley. The rocks, the snow, the animals, the evergreens, it all comes together in a perfect balance, a beautiful mixture of the world’s wonders. In the east, The Four Fingers rise up from its foundation, as the setting sun shimmers an warm glow on the snowy slopes on the west side. The siblings can only stare in awe at the pure beauty of the earth.

     “Wow…” Ruth says, breathless.      “You can say that again,” David admits.       Ruth sits down in the cold snow and breathes in the fresh air, surrounded by small clouds created by her warm breath. Gosh, would she love her Mom to see this. She looks up at the pass, but there’s no sign of her Dad whatsoever.

     “Hey, Dad. You alright on that side?!” she shouts loudly, after which her voice echoes on, carried by open air.      “He’s getting old,” David jokes.      Ruth giggles, but then a strange, unusual roar reverberates through the mountaintops. A howl, but nothing like they’ve ever heard before.      “Is that a grey wolf?” Ruth wonders, surprised.      “I don’t know. I’ve heard grey wolves before, but this animal sounds different,” David ponders, as he stares down the ridge.

     Then they hear it again, much closer this time, or is it just the echo through the mountains that creates that illusion? A bad feeling starts to evolve in David’s stomach as his sister staggers, frightened by the eerie calls. Something’s off.      “You stay here, I’m gonna check on Dad, okay?” the oldest of the two says.      He looks over at Ruth before he grabs his axe and climbs to the other side of the pass. The Lone Tree is easily overcome and he descents down the mountain.      “Dad?!” he shouts.

     But the forest stays remarkably quiet. Too quiet. It’s just now that David realizes that he doesn’t hear the birds, nor other mammals that live in these woods. The trees don’t even whisper, the mountain seems dead. Carefully, David shuffles through the snow, which is perfectly white, until he stumbles on an odd color in this grey toned landscape. 

     Red. 

     Slowly, David’s gaze looks further ahead, afraid of what is about to come into view. This could well be an animal prey, a deer maybe. But he knows it isn’t, and when his gaze reaches the end of the bloody trail, his biggest fear is confirmed to have become reality. Under a tree lays his father, torn to pieces. In horror, David stumbles back, frightened, until he falls into the heavy snow. Then he hears the howl again, followed by a gut wrenching scream, coming from over the pass; it’s his sister. Large eyes full of terror stare up the pass while he realizes what he’s hearing, is the sound of flesh tearing and bones breaking. Even though he knows it’s useless, a chilling cry escapes his throat.      “RUTH!!!”

There you have it, the first chapter of the new episode “Black Dog”. I hope I got your attention! Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read chapter two here

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Comic buff with a thought, I notice the P5MM art and composition is more striking and closer to p5's art and style than the other manga, which is fine, but kinda... flat. (I find myself thinking there's something missing when I read it, then I look back at P5MM and I notice how there's more clever paneling, imagery, and stylistic choices akin to the games in it (like that one goro panel ya had a rant about) and I realize what's missing) That could be why P5MM is brought up more, just a guess. I dunno how you feel about all that though, I'm curious.

Under the cut cause it gets long cause of pictures:

I am very big on art style and visual presentation. I do actually judge a book by it's cover (manga, game, movie, show, yadda). If I find something pleasing to my eye I'll read it.....even if the contents are trash. Domestic Girlfriend is one, horrible manga (didn't finish, was holding out for Momo, aka best girl, and getting closure for her....then I bounced). Didn't watch the anime (didn't need to I was way ahead in the manga I think), but I know that opening is wasted on it. ldskfjaf Don't invest your time into it, it's not worth it, you would probably learn better morals from P5.......probably. But yeah I found the art style pleasing enough to try it out (I's not amazing by any means, but I like looking at it....or did.....that writing man....dat was bad ;w;).... *waves hands vaguely in air* yeah.

Fun fact, it's why I got into Persona. I happened across an ad for P4 on the PS2 in the Gameinformer magazine, it showed a screenshot from an animated cutscene plus one of the fully body art for the chars and I was like "Yes this is my jam!" (which only doubled down when I read what it was about, and it was a murder mystery and the article also talked up "the mystery of the glasses" which fakldjsalkfs yeah). So yeah it really clicked for me.

Tbh it's why I'm probably going to get back into freaking Bleach, and it's why I got into it and Naruto over One Piece (I don't think I'll ever read ON I'm sorry). Tite Kubo has sexy art what can I say? Can't trust a thing that man writes now but eh. It's also the reason I read a lot of Shojo (and now Yuri) manga, cause their art style is usually what I find very appealing (even if I've read the same gd shojo love story just by a different name for the 1000th time, give me the flowers and sparkly eyes! they are my life blood!)

And I've mentioned I really like Saito's art style. I've (attempted) to color some of his pieces on top of animate some manga frames (most of which I haven't actually published......I...I should....get around to finishing those up....haha...aha....haaaa). I really like his art, it's pleasant. But even with good art, I can still see past it and see what BS it's peddling and it can hamper my enjoyment of it. If I don't look at the context of the scene or the words on the page, I can be down with it. But when I'm reading.......I get annoyed. I balk at anything with Goro. I guffaw whenever Makoto's on screen (cause Saito nails her from P5, she acts useful but really she's useless but the narrative views her as useful it ironically makes her useless......it's the weirdest thing I've ever witnessed >.>). Like Saito really.....gets P5 it seems, down to it's flaws even (tho he can actually make the good parts of P5 shine, or at least parts that P5 failed to execute....execute in a way). But he also makes the flaws.....shine that much harder for me.

Now the Reg manga? it's nothing special art style wise, in fact it starts off VERY wonky, and while still wonky, has gotten a lot....better/cuter (esp Ryu). Not like shojo cute just.......I wanna squish their wittle faces cute (at times when it's not serious).

Like when it comes to Reg Manga these are the two pieces that have appeared in it that I feel kinda hit the P5 mark in terms of style:

(look at Mona, coming into this world like the pustule that he is 8U)

Which isn't much, but it's something. At least Reg's AOA is better looking than the anime. 8U

But I dunno, as the chapters go on, the Mangaka allows for more cuter expressions, and I just like their neat:

(btw I colored that page)

I dunno, it's not as overtly cutsey as Saito:

But they are still charming in a more simple way (without out having them go full chibi), it subtle but it gives it flavor. "Silly why are most, if not all those pics of Ryu and Anne?" I dunno guys maybe you should ask them how their backs are doing, cause they're the ones who are carrying the Reg manga when it comes to this! 8U

Tho I do think the first ch or two of Reg does a better job capturing P5's feel than the rest of the chapters, I think the mangaka is just.....bogged down by exposition and the game's BS that a lot of text on their pages so it almost reads like a novel:

ALots of text, not the most dynamic of framing with the panels. It's kinda eh. I haven't really read the manga past the 2nd dungeon tbh (I mean......as the residential #1 Makoto hater, I think that's fair.....that I'd start to zone out during my least fav dungeon....and then continue zoning out during my 2nd least fav dungeon askfdjaflk)

But during the first two dungeon arcs, I liked how.....bad the PT were at thieving, I liked how green they were. It was obviously a learning process. I also like some of the fight choreo (Saito did the best hand to hand one in the series in P4U's Yu vs Sho....which I actually animated....spoiler.....no I have no released that...my dumbass wants to tempt fate and see if I can redo it in color even tho it took me 4 days non stop to get that animated in just black and white.....but I am a fool so alas 8U). I mean it's not mind blowing, but it was simple and decently thought out, which is more than I feel like we usually get (esp with the anime shows....or at least P4/5's).

But I think what draws me in is....it's lack of P5 style. P5 style has them being still oh so cool despite being new at everything. It's tired me out. P5's how identity is style. It's....style over substance (gonna rile some feathers with that....Cvit(?) vid title). But P5 is overtly stylish, to the point it......weighs on me. Drags me down. Tires me out. I don't think they're cool, I'm bored with it. Ironically, Reg manga lacks that, which......def would make someone (and me usually) give it much of a passing glance. It's very basic I guess. But.....consider me, being in P5 hell, surrounded by all it's nausea inducing stylishness, sees a small break in the hellish hurricane to see.......normalcy. It kinda makes me connect better with the kids (kinda, it's still P5).

They feel like normal kids, trying to do their thing (sometimes trying to look/act cool and failing), and.....it's just the absolute antitheses to P5's brand......and I think that's why I like it. KLFJDSAFLKJA;

Anyway, who knows, maybe when I catch up on Reg in english and re-read MM with the official translation I might change my mind about a few things, or at least how I rank them. But for post length sake, and my sanity sake, I think I should keep the anime and mangas out of the "Which entry do you hate least" post......because I should just make another post where I go into both mangas as well as compare and contrast the anime! :D I'm just delaying some insanity for later haha....

Wait.........I just remember Day Breakers exists......and I liked it....still do....don't have much issue with it. Well shit, that is probably the one entry I hate the least. fklsdjfalkjdfkla;jsL;FJljsfdlskafaj *sobs* nO NO, I committed, and that's just a sad loophole. fdklsajflakfj *sobs* I still need to the game thing, cause let's be honest, the games are where it counts.

So right now my ranking for manga/anime is:

Daybreakers>Reg manga> MM>>>>>>>>>>TV Show Anime and it's OVAs (may the burn in the hell fire from which they spawned)

Oh, one last thing, forgot to put it in but I dunno where to put it now. I like how the manga tones down the pervyness some:

I mean Ryu is a fellow monkey. u_u .......but it's for the best I don't have to see his ape expression. ;w; (iirc the pyramid scene was a lot shorter/faster, but that's by the grace of reading and books rather than animation I suppose).

[mediaevalmusereads]

Daring and the Duke. By Sarah MacLean. New York: Avon, 2020.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Part of a Series? Yes, Bareknuckle Bastards #3

Summary: Grace Condry has spent a lifetime running from her past. Betrayed as a child by her only love and raised on the streets, she now hides in plain sight as queen of London’s darkest corners. Grace has a sharp mind and a powerful right hook and has never met an enemy she could not best, until the man she once loved returns. Single-minded and ruthless, Ewan, Duke of Marwick, has spent a decade searching for the woman he never stopped loving. A long-ago gamble may have lost her forever, but Ewan will go to any lengths to win Grace back… and make her his duchess. Reconciliation is the last thing Grace desires. Unable to forgive the past, she vows to take her revenge. But revenge requires keeping Ewan close, and soon her enemy seems to be something else altogether—something she can’t resist, even as he threatens the world she's built, the life she's claimed…and the heart she swore he'd never steal again.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: explicit sexual content, violence, blood, references to child abuse and maiming

Overview: There was only one book left in the Bareknuckle Bastards series so I thought “why not?” I was curious as to how MacLean would redeem the main antagonist of the first two books, and I rather liked Grace every time she showed up on the page. While there were some things I enjoyed, I would put this finale closer in quality to Brazen and the Beast than Wicked and the Wallflower. There wasn’t much to bind the two leads together aside from their past, in my opinion, and while MacLean attempts to tell a darker, angstier story, much of the plot felt empty and repetitive. Still, there were some nice nods to feminism and consent was always at the forefront, so I’m giving this book 3 stars.

Writing: MacLean’s prose isn’t radically different in Daring than it was in Brazen. It might be a little more serious, as the subject matter is definitely darker, but overall, it’s easy to get through and conveys MacLean’s ideas clearly. My only major complaint is that Daring felt more slow-paced than its prequels, perhaps because we got a lot of filler and repetition of the same scene but from different perspectives. Granted, some of this happens in the previous books, but because Daring isn’t largely focused on something external (like a business rivalry or a power play with an antagonist), everything just seemed to drag.

Also like Brazen, I don’t think MacLean used her themes to the fullest extent. There were some interesting attempts, such as the story about Apollo and the recurring mask motif, but there were also some duds, like the commentary about people being mad that Victoria was queen because she was a woman (Victoria was not a good symbol of “girl power,” in my opinion). While any one of these could have worked, they didn’t have as heavy of an impact as the themes in Wicked.

I also think MacLean held back on giving her characters unique quirks that served as metaphors; while Grace does have a tattoo that has some significance, it didn’t have sustained presence like Felicity’s lockpicking or Whit’s two watches. As a result, Daring felt the most thematically flat of the three books, and I wish as much care was put into both Brazen and Daring as was in Wicked.

Plot: Aside from the romance, most of the plot of this book revolves around Ewan’s redemption and a subtle concern over the increased frequency of raids on houses of ill repute. To be honest, I think this book started out rather well; Grace rescues Ewan from the explosion that happed at the end of Brazen, and their initial reunion and confrontation was fairly angsty. From there, though, I felt like the plot started to get repetitive and had no shape. Devil and Whit would threaten to beat up Ewan, Ewan would make some grand gesture (like hosting a ball or ask to help Covent Garden in a way), Grace would be attracted to that gesture, they’d have some intimate moment, Grace would then get nervous and run, only for the cycle to start over. While I did like the ways in which Ewan tried to earn forgiveness by helping Covent Garden, there wasn’t a whole lot of tension in these scenes aside from the threat of a brawl. I also didn’t feel like the subplot about Grace’s bordello was prominent enough or thematically related enough to have an impact; the bordello raids seemed to be a commentary about women and power, but it fell flat for me because Ewan didn’t really have to struggle with seeing Grace as an equal or as someone with power in her own right. He’s mostly already there, so the commentary felt rather hollow.

I think I would have much rather seen a plot with stronger parallels to the romance or one with more dramatic references to the characters’ pasts. Maybe Ewan’s secret could have been at risk throughout the book, and Grace has to decide what to do (which could have made for an interesting final showdown, if Ewan’s true identity had been discovered). Getting out of that pickle seems like a much more interesting plot than the empty gestures towards women in power that we got.

Characters: I liked Grace in Wicked, so I was happy that she got her own story in Daring. She’s a smart businesswoman with an intelligence network of almost all women, and I love the pleasure she takes in roaming the rooftops and dressing in bold colors. I also really love the friendships she has with her lieutenants at the bordello, and the sibling banter between her and Devil and Whit. However, my admiration from her cooled whenever she would engage in her back-ad-forth with Ewan. She never seemed to know what she wanted and was fairly flighty, which is understandable to an extent but irritating when there isn’t a strong plot or clear emotional progression to back it up. I always felt like Grace was stagnating and never really evolving, and her main character flaw was just to get over her past and hesitation about Ewan’s title. I wanted her to have something more, like an insecurity that Ewan could help her with.

Ewan, for his part, is somewhat interesting in that he was a villain in previous books. I liked the angst he brought to the story as well as the heartbreak when we finally learn why he made certain choices in his past, but other than that, he didn’t really have an exciting emotional arc. After the first scene, Ewan leaves London for a year to make himself a better man worthy of Grace, and when he returns, he seems to have finished growing and only needs the people around him to see it. I feel like we were cheated of seeing that growth happen on-page.

Side characters were fine and served their purpose. Devil and Whit were at their best when teasing Grace, but at their worst when talking about Ewan. I felt like they were always threatening to beat Ewan up but they never acted, which meant that their words felt hollow and their confrontations were useless. It would have been more interesting, in my opinion, if they had had more honest conversations with Ewan about their pasts so the angst was not just between Ewan and Grace but between the brothers as well. I wanted the brothers to struggle more with their emotions, rather than just think about punching one another.

Grace’s lieutenants, Veronique and Zeva, were fun when they were teasing Grace, but it also felt like they were there to relay information about the raids, which weren’t all that interesting. I liked that Grace was shown to have female friendships, and I liked that the lieutenants showed women in positions of power outside of a domestic setting, but ultimately, the raids just weren’t exciting enough to me to think of the lieutenants as much more than filler.

Romance: Based on the events from the previous two books, some readers may not find Ewan redeemable, so the quality of this romance will largely depend on what your personal threshold is. Personally, I was willing to give MacLean a shot, and while I do think she did everything she could to show that Ewan was trying to atone, I also don’t think she did enough to make the romance exciting. Grace and Ewan seemed to be mainly bound by their pasts, and though Ewan says he loves Grace for her boldness and power, it seemed all tell and no show. Part of the romance requires Ewan and Grace to learn who the other is now rather than try to recapture their childhoods, and I felt like not much of that happened outside of Grace just giving Ewan a tour of her bordello and telling stories about what happened to her after she fled with her brothers. I would have much rather had moments where the two bonded over some shared values - the laundry scene in Covent Garden kind of did that, but it was so dragged out and nothing was really built upon it, so I don’t think it had the intended effect.

I also don’t feel like Ewan and Grace grew within the romance very much, and by that I mean they didn’t help each other overcome some kind of character flaw. Ewan’s character development happened off-page, so most of his arc was about getting others to see that he had changed rather than changing before our eyes. Grace’s main barrier to the relationship was her past and her inability to trust, which would have been fine if all her reservations didn’t go out the window the moment she noticed Ewan’s muscles. It was somewhat exhausting to see her have an intimate moment with Ewan, insist that it was just this one time, then flee because they couldn’t be together (due to his title and her emotional hang-ups). The cycle would repeat, and it didn’t feel like each encounter built on the previous one. I think I would have liked to see a continuous evolution where the two learned who the other had become in the 20 years they were apart, uncovering truths along the way and building back trust rather than this back-and-forth of “we can’t be together” and “well, we can bang this one time but NO MORE after tonight.”

TL;DR: Despite including some delicious angst, Daring and the Duke ultimately relies on a cyclical romance and a lackluster plot, making this book a middling finale to the Bareknuckle Bastards series.

[uxuifromzerotowow]

The 4 Golden Rules of UI Design by Nick Babich

The user interface (UI) is a critical part of any software product. When it’s done well, users don’t even notice it. When it’s done poorly, users can’t get past it to efficiently use a product. To increase the chances of success when creating user interfaces, most designers follow interface design principles. Interface design principles represent high-level concepts that are used to guide software design. In this article, I’ll share a few fundamental principles. These are based on Jakob Nielsen’s 10 Usability Heuristics for UI Design, Ben Shneiderman’s The Eight Golden Rules of Interface Design, and Bruce Tognazzini’s Principles of Interaction Design. Most of the principles are applicable to any interactive systems — traditional GUI environments (such as desktop and mobile apps, websites) and non-GUI interfaces (such as voice-based interaction systems). 

The UI design principals are:

Place users in control of the interface

Make it comfortable to interact with a product

Reduce cognitive load

Make user interfaces consistent

1. Place users in control of the interface

Good UI s instill a sense of control in their users. Keeping users in control makes them comfortable; they will learn quickly and gain a fast sense of mastery.Make actions reversible – be forgivingThis rule means that the user should always be able to quickly backtrack whatever they are doing. This allows users to explore the product without the constant fear of failure — when a user knows that errors can be easily undone, this encourages exploration of unfamiliar options. On the contrary, if a user has to be extremely careful with every action they take, it leads to a slower exploration and nerve-racking experience that no one wants.Perhaps the most common GUIs where users have the ‘Undo/Redo’ option are text and graphics editors. While writing text or creating graphics, ‘Undo’ lets users make changes and go back step-by-step through changes that were made. ‘Redo’ lets users undo the undo, which means that once they go back a few steps, they are able to move forward through their changes again.‘Undo’ can be extremely helpful when users choose system function by mistake. In this case, the undo function serves as an ’emergency exit,’ allowing users to leave the unwanted state. One good example of such emergency exits is Gmail’s notification message with an undo option when users accidentally delete an email.

Create an easy-to-navigate interface

Navigation should always be clear and self-evident. Users should be able to enjoy exploring the interface of any software product. Even complex B2B products full of features shouldn’t intimidate users so that they are afraid to press a button. Good UI puts users in their comfort zone by providing some context of where they are, where they’ve been, and where they can go next:

Provide visual cues. Visual cues serve as reminders for users. Allow users to navigate easily through the interface by providing points of reference as they move through a product interface. Page titles, highlights for currently selected navigation options, and other visual aids give users an immediate view of where they are in the interface. A user should never be wondering, “Where am I?” or “How did I get to this screen?”

Predictability. Users should be provided with cues that help them predict the result of an action. A user should never be wondering, “What do I need to press in order to do my task?” or “What is this button for?”

Provide informative feedback – be acknowledging

Feedback is typically associated with points of action — for every user action, the system should show a meaningful, clear reaction. A system with feedback for every action helps users achieve their goals without friction.

UI design should consider the nature of interaction. For frequent actions, the response can be modest. For example, when users interact with an interactive object (such as a button), it’s essential to provide some indication that an action has been acknowledged. This might be something as simple as a button changing color when pressed (the change notifies the user of the interaction). The lack of such feedback forces users to double-check to see if their intended actions have been performed.

Show the visibility of system status

Users are much more forgiving when they have information about what is going on and are given periodic feedback about the status of the process. Visibility of system status is essential when users initiate an action that takes some time for a computer to complete. Users don’t like to be left seeing nothing on the device screen while the app is supposed to be doing something. The use of progress indicators is one of the subtle aspects of UI design that has a tremendous impact on the comfort and enjoyment of users.

Accommodate users with different skill levels

Users of different skill levels should be able to interact with a product at different levels. Don’t sacrifice expert users for an easy-to-use interface for novice or casual users. Instead, try to design for the needs of a diverse set of users, so it doesn’t matter if your user is an expert or a newbie.

Adding features like tutorials and explanations is extremely helpful for novice users (just make sure that experienced users are able to skip this part).

Once users are familiar with a product, they will look for shortcuts to speed up commonly-used actions. You should provide fast paths for experienced users by enabling them to use shortcuts.

2. Make it comfortable for a user to interact with a product

Eliminate all elements that are not helping your users

Interfaces shouldn’t contain information that is irrelevant or rarely needed. Irrelevant information introduces noise in UI —it competes with the relevant information and diminishes its relative visibility. Simplify interfaces by removing unnecessary elements or content that does not directly support user tasks. Strive to design UI in a way that all information presented on the screen will be valuable and relevant. Examine every element and evaluate it based on the value it delivers to users.

A good example of an app that follows the ‘less is more’ approach by avoiding overloading the interface with content or features is iA Writer.

The interface of iA Writer app is a clean typing sheet with no distractions. It allows users to focus on what they’re writing and hides everything else.

Don’t ask users for data they’ve already entered

Don’t force users to have to repeat data they’ve previously entered. Users are easily annoyed by tedious data-entry sequences, especially when they have provided all the required information before. Good UI performs a maximum of work while requiring a minimum amount of information from users.

Avoid jargon and system-oriented terms

When designing a product, it’s important to use language that is easy to read and understand. The system should speak the user’s language, with words, phrases, and concepts familiar to the user, rather than jargon or system-oriented terms.

Apply Fitts’s Law to interactive elements

Fitts Law states that the time to acquire a target is a function of the distance to and size of the target. This means that it’s better to design large targets for important functions (big buttons are easier to interact with).

It’s also important to remember that the time required to acquire multiple targets is the sum of the time to acquire each. Thus, when working on UI design, to increase the efficiency of an interaction, try to not only reduce distances and increase target sizes, but also reduce the total number of targets that users must interact with to complete a given task.

Design accessible interfaces

When we design products it’s important to remember that a well-designed product is accessible to users of all abilities, including those with low vision, blindness, hearing impairments, cognitive impairments, or motor impairments. Good UI is accessible UI because improving your product’s accessibility enhances the usability for all groups of users.

Color is one of the elements of an interface that has a strong impact on accessibility.  People perceive color differently — some users can see a full range of colors, but many people can only make out a limited range of colors. Approximately 10 percent of men and one percent of women have some form of color blindness. When designing interfaces, it’s better to avoid using color as the only way to convey information. Anytime you want color to convey information in the interface, you should use other cues to convey the information to those who cannot see the colors.

Use real-world metaphors

Using metaphors in UI design allows users to create a connection between the real world and digital experiences. Real-world metaphors empower users by allowing them to transfer existing knowledge about how things should look and work. Metaphors are often used to make the unfamiliar familiar. Take the recycle bin on your desktop, which holds deleted files, as an example – it’s not a real trash bin, but it’s visually represented in a way that helps you understand the concept more easily.

Engineer for errors

Errors are inadvertent in the user journey. Bad error handling paired with useless error messages can fill users with frustration and lead them to abandon your app. A well-crafted error message, on the other hand, can turn a moment of frustration into a moment of conversion. An effective error message is a combination of explicit error notification together with hints for solving the problem.

Even better than writing good error messages is having UI design that prevents a problem from occurring in the first place. Try to either eliminate error-prone conditions or check for them and present users with a confirmation dialog before they commit to the action. For example, Gmail prompts you when you forget to insert an attachment. 

Protect a user’s work

Ensure that users never lose their work. Users should not lose their work as a result of an error on their side (i.e. accidentally refresh a web page with a form that has user input), a system error, problems with an internet connection, or any other reason other than those that are completely unavoidable, like an unexpected power loss.

3. Reduce cognitive load

Cognitive load is the amount of mental processing power required to use a product. It’s better to avoid making users think/work too hard to use your product.

Chunking for sequences of information or actions

In 1956, psychologist George Miller introduced the world to the theory of chunking. In his works, Miller says the human working memory can handle seven-plus-or-minus two “chunks” of information while we’re processing information.

This rule can be used when organizing and grouping items together. For example, if your UI forces users to enter telephone numbers without normal spacing it can result in a lot of incorrectly-captured phone numbers. People cannot typically scan clusters of ten or more digits to discover errors. That’s exactly why phone numbers are broken up into smaller pieces.

Reduce the number of actions required to complete a task

When designing a user interface, strive to reduce the total number of actions required from a user to achieve the goal. It’s worth remembering the three-click rule, which suggests the user of a product should be able to find any information with no more than three mouse clicks.

Recognition over recall

One of the Jakob Nielsen’s 10 usability heuristics advises promoting recognition over recall in UI design. Recognizing something is much easier than recalling it because recognition involves more cues in our brain (cues spread activation to related information in memory, and those cues help us remember information).

Designers can promote recognition in user interfaces by making information and functionality visible and easily accessible. Visual aids, such as tooltips and context-sensitive details, also help support users in recognizing information.

Promote visual clarity

Good visual organization improves usability and legibility, allowing users to quickly find the information they are looking for and use the interface more efficiently.

When designing layouts:

Avoid presenting too much information at one time on the screen. This results in visual clutter.

Remember the principle ‘form follows function.’ Make things look like they work.

Apply the general principles of content organization such as grouping similar items together, numbering items, and using headings and prompt text.

4. Make user interfaces consistent

Consistency is an essential property of good UI—consistent design is intuitive design. Consistency is one of the strongest contributors to usability and learnability. The main idea of consistency is the idea of transferable knowledge — let users transfer their knowledge and skills from one part of an app’s UI to another, and from one app to another app.

Visual consistency (style)

Users should never question the integrity of a product. The same colors, fonts, and icons should be present throughout the product. Don’t change visual styles within your product for no apparent reason. For example, a Submit button on one page of your site should look the same on any other page.

Avoid using different styles for elements on different pages of the site. Users should not have to wonder whether a transformed button like this example means the same thing.

Functional consistency (behavior)

Consistency of behavior means the object should work in the same way throughout the interface. The behavior of interface controls, such as buttons and menu items, should not change within a product. Users don’t want surprises or changes in familiar behavior — they become easily frustrated when things don’t work. This can inhibit learning and stop users from feeling confident about consistency in the interface. Do not confuse your user —  keep actions consistent by following “The principle of least surprise,”  to have the interface behave the way users expect it to.

Consistent with user expectations

People have certain expectations about the apps/websites they use. Designing your product in a way that contradicts a user’s expectations is one of the worst things you can do to a user. It doesn’t matter what logical argument you provide for how something should work or look. If users expect it to work/look a different way, you will face a hard time changing those expectations. If your approach offers no clear advantage, go with what your users expect.

Follow platform conventions. Your product should be consistent with standards dictated by platform guidelines. Guidelines ensure that your users can understand individual interface elements in your design.

Don’t reinvent patterns. For most design problems, proper solutions already exist. These solutions are called patterns. Popular patterns become conventions and the majority of users are familiar with them. Not taking this solution into account and continuing to design your own solution can lead to challenges for users. In most cases, breaking design conventions results in a frustrating user experience — you’ll face usability problems not necessarily because your solution will be wrong, but because users won’t be familiar with it.

Don’t try to reinvent terminology. Avoid using new terms when there are words available that users already know. Users spend most of their time in other apps and on other sites, so they have certain expectations about naming. Using different words might confuse them.

Conclusion

The goal for UI designers today is to produce user-friendly interfaces: interfaces that encourage exploration without fear of negative consequences. Without any doubt interfaces of the future will be more intuitive, enticing, predictable, and forgiving, but most principles of UI design listed in this article will surely be applicable to them, too.

Source https://xd.adobe.com/ideas/process/ui-design/4-golden-rules-ui-design/

[garazza]

Action Comics #1022 Review

“The House of Kent: Part 1″

Starting off, we have the 9-panel grid. Because Tom King likes to use it to show off that he read Watchmen (before promptly abusing the layout to death), everyone and their mother has been scrambling to shove it somewhere in their work and try to get a useless amount of perceived street cred to show that they too had read Watchmen (killing the layout even more). Since it’s all the rage, Bendis does it here.

I actually like the third panel. As Stan Lee said, every comic is someone’s first comic (and this is the first chapter in a “highly” anticipated arc). Instead of an editor’s note, Bendis explains Kelex through dialogue that is expositional but not unnatural or clunky. But why explain Kelex of all things? My answer is well, why not? Supposedly, Conner is as unformed about a lot of things as is a potential new reader and Superman informs him in a manner that is not entirely out place, even to current readers.

Then Conner explains his origin and touches upon the fact that we’ve had a few different continuities since his creation in 1993. He is excited and curious in the first four panels and then immediately deflates in the last four. I think Bendis is trying to have the best of both worlds by writing both an excited Conner (something that fans are supposed to respond positively towards) and a depressed Conner (because he has been a victim of the discontinuity perpetuated by DC editorial and made no better by Bendis).

We get a double-page splash of the two Kents conversing that I like, especially the color of the Fortress. The conversation is very Bendis, but not offensively so. It serves its purpose, can’t be too upset about that. He tries to depict Conner as nervous, but I really hate how it’s done, it’s like reading an accent phonetically.

uwu what’s this? A fundamental misunderstanding and misinterpretation of a character? In my Bendis book? It’s more likely than you think.

Conner has literally never been little. He was created as a teenage clone of Superman and he stayed a teenage clone of Superman. He came out the test tube the punk Metropolis Kid, not the toddling Metropolis Tyke. A really big conceit of his character is that he will never look older or younger than a teenager. That’s why a lot of eyebrows were raised when in his first reappearance Bendis chose to depict him with stubble.

Another example of Bendis-speak that is fun and full of charm and character, but the characterization for the characters who are conversing is just…off. It’s a conversation these types of characters would have, just not these characters specifically.

You know, for a character that supposedly Bendis hates and wants to write off and make inaccessible to all other writers and artists, he sure writes about Jon a lot. Bendis forces Jon into the future, cutting him off not just from everything he knows and loves, but from, more importantly, the readers. This reinforces the gravity and seriousness of him being written off, but Bendis constantly undermines this hostage situation of his own creation by having him come back to the present quite often. You put characters on a bus to make them go away forever, but the bus keeps returning to the station. And the most baffling part? You’re the driver, Bendis! Commit to the fucking bit!

Jon and Braniac 5 are chumming it up, because they are toooooootally buddies, you can read alllllll about Jon’s actual, very real, and totally not non-existent friendships with the Legionnaires in Legion of Super-Heroes by Brian Michael Bendis and Ryan Sook, because Jon totally has finished watching the Legion orientation film that totally didn’t take more than 5 issues to even get him to watch and he wasn’t even interrupted once. The book is soooooo well developed and evenly paced and not at alllllll bloated behind belief.

Jon acts like he came home from college to do laundry and eat some home cooking and forgot to call ahead, like he totally isn’t supposed to stay in the future.

Me, too, Conner. I don’t know who this character is either.

We also get to see his new costume here, which I hate. The one positive thing I could say about this new character when he was first introduced in Bendis’ Superman run was that I really liked his costume. It had the cyber-armor look of the New 52 Superman suit, but wasn’t too over-designed. It worked, it looked cool. This new look is just kinda bleh. It has the ugliness of the New 52 with none of the intricacies that made it look cool and unique.

We were never going to any meeting between the two Superboys that can even remotely be called good or worthwhile. I appreciate the naiveté of certain fans who enjoy things at face value because, factually, they got what they wanted. Fans wanted this meeting and they got it, which will make the happy, but it is not at all satisfying, which is what they should care about.

Bendis has a firm understanding of Superman and his voice. The same cannot be for Jon Kent. This character is not Jon Kent. He is not written out of character because this is not his character. What we got here is not what we wanted. This is Bendis and DC editorial banking that fans will rationalize to themselves that the crumbs they deigned to give fans is actually a feast worthy of praise and exaltation (look no further than Superman #16).

Oh and by the way, this is all we get for the meeting. The rest of the issue is “wHaT’S ThE DeAl cOnNeR KeNt?”

I’m skipping over the Daily Planet stuff because I don’t care about it and it doesn’t piss me off.

Instead, I will quickly address this: “The rumor come out, does Jonathan Kent is gay?”

I want to say this came about because Jon called Conner’s leather jacket “fabulous”, but it seems this idea existed before this issue was even released. The most I can find in relation to Jon being gay is this article written 2016 and this funny little exchange in the comments of one of Bendis’ Instagram posts.

I knew I was not straight when I was in grade school and it would be amazing if such a high profile character like Jon came out. It would normalize the idea that being gay isn’t something exclusively sexual or adult, but that there is nothing wrong for kids to have feelings for someone their own age who is the same sex. But I don’t trust DC to even attempt this. If they can’t even make Dick Grayson bi, then it’s not likely for any other character to come out.

And just because he described something as “fabulous”, that doesn’t make him gay. It’s an odd choice of words, sure, but word choice is no real indication of sexuality. In an interview with ComicPOP, Todd McFarlane described a box for a figure as “sexy” and “sassy” that I might have instead referred to as “cool” or “awesome.” I think Todd’s word choice is oddly fitting, but it was not something I would have thought to use before hearing him use it in the interview, and it does not at all call into his sexuality. I have a similar sentiment about “fabulous.”

Back to the story, Superman takes Conner to meet some of the intellectual experts in the DC universe to help figure out his deal. They have some “fun” Bendis dialogue and touch upon the multiverse and continuity that Bendis has been helping shape even though he literally has never worked for DC until very recently, relatively speakingm and yet is being trusted with the word “crisis.”  And what do you mean you’ve been rebooted at least three times, I thought it was seven times according to Young Justice #1, one of the first issues Bendis wrote for DC.

I saw a Reddit post a little while back that compiled clues and subtle hints that were spread out among several titles, including Tom King, Scott Snynder, and Bendis’ various books, that tied them all together with Doomsday Clock. It demonstrated a remarkable amount of coordination that I thought impossible given who it involved, but the evidence was pretty convincing. However, this was before Dan Didio was fired and they were able to avert 5G. Now that they’ve had time to regroup, I think this issue is sowing some more of those seeds that’ll eventually be dealt with by Synder’s Death Metal.

Here’s some more of that fundamental misunderstanding and misinterpretation of a character. Conner was not “raised” by the Kents. They cared for him, sure, but I wouldn’t call what they did raising.

What is being referred to here is Geoff Johns’ run with Conner Kent in Adventure Comics which took place in 2009. What that contributed to the character was only a relatively recent development in Conner’s history. It should be noted he started living with the Kents in 2002. His solo book was cancelled with Connor being dropped off by Clark at his parent’s house on the very last page. Any sort of “raising” would have occurred off panel during that time and is largely not expanded upon because there was literally no book to depict that kind of relationship until after he had died in 2006 and was brought back in 2009. They are not the sole contributors to his life like it is implied here. He lived in Hawaii and worked for Cadmus for far longer than he lived with the Kents.

And here we have Jon casually referring to Ma and Pa Kent as Grandma and Grandpa like he actually knew them instead of just knowing of them. For those of you don’t know, they were dead when Tomasi and Gleason were writing Superman and were only just recently brought back in Doomsday Clock which concluded well after Tomasi and Gleason had left the book, so Jon never met them. At the absolute most he’s heard stories, looked at pictures, and seen home movies of the Kents. You could say I’m nitpicking, but Bendis deserves it. You can feel his disregard for others’ work throughout his other books, and its panels like this that are the proof.

Jon literally has no reason to know that Ma and Pa Kent are alive. No reason. Jon’s smug face is Bendis’ way of say “Aren’t I a stinker?”

Fuck. You. Bendis.

You do not get to pretend that stories you made impossible to tell of Jon spending time with his grandparents actually did happen. Is this interaction cute and fun and a little bit wholesome? Yes. But is it genuine? Absolutely not. He’s just trying to cash in on what he thinks fans want to see with none of the heart and soul.

And now Clark is acting like Jon is visiting from college.

Piss your pants, Bendis. Jon would never refer to his best friend Damian Wayne like that. If someone else referred to Damian like that when Jon was around, he would correct them and say something along the lines of “He’s not so bad once you get to know him.” Stop pushing the narrative that Damian is some sort of demon hellspawn or psycho killer. He’s a flawed kid with a dark past that wants to be better but struggles with it and needs friends like Jon to support him. This continues to show that Bendis literally does not understand this character and why fans get upset when he writes him this way.

Another 9-panel grid, but this is not Tom King-inspired, but actually befitting the moment. Bendis still think Conner was literally raised by the Kents instead of just living with them, but I really have no skin the game of Conner being recognized as a part of the Kent family, so this doesn’t piss me off much.

I know this is supposed to be emotional because they just reunited, but the dialogue seems to suggest something more ominous and insidious is going on, something bigger than any one of them (Crisis, I know, but its kind of obnoxiously on the nose and yet unnecessarily vague).

The issue actually ends with the story I don’t really care about, so that’s the review.

Note: I realized about part way through writing this post how pissy and whiny I might sound, but I spent too much writing it to not post it.

[always5hineee]

Hell and Back - Chapter 2: Entry

Chapter warnings: Mild language

Word count: 1661

-----

       "So basically, I can have up to fifteen people." She explained. "And I figured you guys might want to help me out a bit?" Y/N was currently trying to explain the mysterious email she had received the night before, mentioning the opportunity for a wish and the potential group that she had in mind. The more people the better, right?

       "So you can wish for anything?" Sehun asked, leaning forward with an intrigued glint in his eyes.

       "I mean... yeah, it said that."

       "We could totally wish to be rich, then." Kris suggested.

       "Or famous!" Chanyeol added.

       "Guys." Suho held his hands out, quieting their overlapping suggestions. "We could get the band." The whole group went into what almost looked like a frenzy, Y/N watching it with a glossy stare. She hadn't mentioned yet that she'd already made her wish. She just needed their help.

       "This sounds awesome!" Tao cheered above the chatter, pumping a fist in a strange little dance. His and all the others' eyes were bright with excitement and hope, glittering with the promise of a better future. She didn't doubt that it was exactly the look that was on her face walking down the street the night before.

       How was she meant to crush their hopes on this? There wasn't really much she could do. Even if she could change her wish... would she want to? There were ways around it. She could say that it gave her a multiple choice, or that it just sensed her deepest desire. Better yet, maybe she could convince them that it was what they internally wanted, and the strange system just figured it out on their own.

       So now she was considering lying... Would it be worth it? For a power? She was conflicted beyond belief on it. It could change her life forever, make everything great, but... these were her best friends in the whole world. They were there for her even when she wasn't skilled, when she couldn't do what they could. They never made her feel worthless for it. How could she be expected to break the news to them now, though?

       As she considered her options, optimism already warping with worries, she heard a notification ring from her phone. She had all of her notifications turned off all the time- until last night. She had set her email notification to ring should something come in. Sure enough, the little envelope icon was glowing on the screen. Noticing it over her shoulder, Chen's face lit up.

       "Open it!" Hand shaking just slightly enough that she was the only one who noticed. Clicking into her phone after typing in her password. She moved to her inbox. Breath hitching, she recognized the clarity of the header. She felt a surge of heat as the large group of boys crowded around her, trying to see over each other to the tiny window.

       Pressing on the icon, the letter opened up, listing on in the same shimmery white script under the now slightly familiar elegant logo. The label at the top simply read Thank You. In the interest of her entire group of friends, she read it out loud.

       "You are allowed to enter up to fourteen teammates, providing for a fifteen-person team maximum. The signer of the initial email must be present for the start of the trials, but does not have to remain throughout the entire process. Please enter the names of those who wish to participate. After the details have been given, all will be given an opportunity to revoke their application. Looking around at them, she asked if they were all willing to participate.

       "This seems a little sketchy." Baekhyun said quietly. He hadn't really spoken up until this point, but he wasn't too excited at the prospect of some mysterious set of 'trials'. She had to admit that the word didn't sound the most pleasant.

       "Come on, we'll be able to pull out if we really want to." Lay nudged him. "Count me in! Seems like it could be fun!" Looking around, she saw the various nods and agreeing murmurs. Noting no objections, she wrote down all their full names. Clicking enter, it buffered, then switched screen.

       "Your wish has been ascertained."

       "You made a wish already?" Luhan asked, brows furrowing confusedly, wondering why she wouldn't have spoken up certain.

       "No, ascertained means to find something out. That insinuates that they picked it for us." Kyungsoo explained, Y/N breathing out in a quiet sigh of relief. She'd tell them eventually. Just... not now.  She continued reading to take their attention off of the tangent.

       "Your trials have now been activated." She read out. "An app request will be sent to your phone. To continue playing, accept the request and download the software. Follow the instructions from there. Thank you for your submission." Just as she hit the final 'enter' button, the email disappeared again, just as it had before.

       "Well..." Baekhyun noted. "That was... something."

       "Did you guys get the notification yet?" Lay asked, already pulling out his phone. After a few no's, Chen spoke up.

       "Wait, what is this?" Showing his phone to Kyungsoo, the man sighed. "That's an update notification from your settings app."

       "Oh... and that one?" Kyungsoo looked again.

       "Oh- now that's the notification." Lay ran over to look at it. Sure enough, he had received a generic notification that had the regular options of accept or deny. The simple black font asked, Allow dHJpYWxz to download and make changes to your device? Before Chen could even do anything, Lay groaned,

       "Aww, why did he get it first?" Reaching over his shoulder to tap 'accept'.

       "Hey!"

       "What? You were gonna do it anyway!" Sure enough, the notifications began popping up one everyone's phones. Once all the boys had accepted (some more excitedly than others), Y/N received a slightly different notification.

       All of your party has entered. Allow dHJpYWxz​​​​​​-party1​ to download and make changes to your device? Confused on the new wording, but unaware of a better option, she clicked accept as well, opening the app. Once her's was running, all the others began scrolling content across the screens. The app had the same sleek design as the email, featuring the black and silver color palette.

       The makeup of the app was very minimalistic. The homepage for the boys had four very distinct sections, each with a translucent color to separate it. The first was "Current Trial", second was "Completed Trials", the third was "Players", and the final was "Rules and Gameplay". Y/N's screen housed all of these, as well as another bar before rules titled "Abilities bar". Clicking through, everything seemed a bit bare, so she directed everyone a bit awkwardly.

       "Hey, we should probably read through the rules." They all agreed, clicking into the tab to skim the sheet as they took turns reading sections aloud.

       Welcome to the trials. You have all agreed to participate thus far. There are 100 rounds, each with a different goal that you will be given at the start of the round. There is no way to skip a round, and you will not be able to see rounds in advance. For every round, you will be given your goal. Some will include time limits or specific items you need to collect. In addition, for each round, one person will be prohibited from using their abilities. This will be non-negotiable, as you will find your powers rendered useless for the round.

       In all public trials, you are permitted to cause as much or as little of a scene as possible. You are not allowed to explain the trials to anyone, or you will be eliminated. You may not be caught by law enforcement, or you will be eliminated. You may not cheat, or you will be eliminated. Loopholes, however, are valid and could even be rewarded.

       At the start of every round, you will be given a chance to drop out. Each trial will have its own drop-out fee aside from Round 1. Your fee will be collected under any and all circumstances, so consider well before you choose to exit the trials. In the event of someone leaving the trials, they are not permitted to return, but the rest of the group remains unaffected. In the event that Player 1 leaves the trials, the remaining players will be given an additional trial to determine a new player 1.        

       To win, at least one person must complete all 100 trials successfully. In the event of a victor, a wish will be granted. Any questions may be asked through the Rules and Gameplay help bar. You will be answered in a timely manner. If you receive no response, your question may have been invalid, or there may be assistance on the way. At this time, if you wish to remove yourself from the trials, please go to the Current Trial page and follow the sequence. This will be accessible at all times.

       "This is... a lot to process." Kris said, rather obviously. Each of them was exploring the app curiously, most of the buttons inactive. Clicking into the Current Trial bar, she noted that the drop out button was indeed active. Underneath the big letters, "End Trials", there was a smaller script reading, Removal Fee: None. Next to the button, there was also a large "Begin" button. Looking at the others' screens, she noted that she was the only one who had it. She assumed that, as the so-called Player 1, she was in charge of deciding when the rounds began.

       "So... are we doing this thing?" Tao asked her, leaning forward to hover over her phone a bit.

       "If you all are ready." With sideways glances and nods from the group, she inhaled deeply, finger hovering over the screen. Finally, she worked up the courage and clicked it, lighting up the page.

       Trial 1: Start.

Go to Chapter 3

[nny11writes]

13, 16, 18, 43 and 50 for tha ask game please and thank you :P Just, many many numbers lol

13. What is your planning process?

My first reaction was to squint and go “Do I have a process?” which is probably an answer on its own lol!

It depends is the actual answer.

Like most writers I start a fic because of one scene or dialogue or description that I really, really, really wanted to write and then I have to figure out where it belongs.

I almost always start by just...writing. I used to be 100% stream of consciousness writer. I’d sit down at least once a day with a blank document and without ANY forethought or direction I’d start writing a fic. It was always as much fun for me as my readers to see where a story would go because I literally had no clue.

These days, as I’m putting THE THING down on the page my brain is shrieking ideas at me so I start slapping them down too, but I’ve got a better filter so not everything goes down. There’s a lot of [WHAT IS THIS THING PLS PLS FIGURE IT OUT] and [PAST OR PRESENT TENSE MF MAKE UP YO MIND] at this stage.

This is where I actually start planning. I’ve got a bunch of stuff down, a vague direction, and a lot of ideas so this is usually where I sit down to do some planning. Am I aiming to write a short fic or long fic, one shot or multi-chapter, where are we, how many characters, etc. I leave things pretty wide open, while sometimes it’s fun to challenge myself to meet very specific goals it’s usually frustrating to me so nothing is set in stone. Literally. Even when I’ve posted if someone leaves a comment that’s amazing or enough people liked it I’ll usually try to write more in that fic or another fic with those ideas.

How To Quit You is a great example of how my loosey goosey planning works. I don’t know if people realize but that fic was originally supposed to be ONLY that first chapter. I wrote it in an hour tops for 2019 glitra week and all I knew at that point was I wanted to do a western with some romance tropes to it (hence the exes who still love each other thing).

Once I realized how many people seemed to love it and wanted to see more I sat down and planned it out. I first decided how I wanted to write the story (hence going back in time ~15 years) and then I created chapter titles and had vague descriptions for them.  Once it was all down I went through it again and made adjustments, then created a timeline (Micah died in 1868, they meet in 1870, Catra works BMR rails 1870-1880 min, etc etc). And that’s it.  I made an outline and used it as my idea bouncing ground and map and huge parts of it have changed as we’ve gone along. Catra was going to become a drunkard out in [REDACTED] after the timeline met up with chapter one. I scrapped that because it didn’t fit with other details and changes I’d made. I re-wrote the chapter and now I gotta scrap that and re-write it again do to reasons that would spoilers.

Let’s Try This Again is another hilarious example, because chapters 1-6 were meticulously planned and I charted out a whole story around them that I was going to stick to damn it all! And then Palpatine hip checked me and changed the course of the story. I still included a lot from my original VERY detailed outline, but some chapters were nixed completely and others added in too sooooo...

I’m not a true pantser because I do some planning, but I’m not a planner because I leave huge chucks practically up to the whims of fate. I’m a plantser.

16. Do you use sentence starters, writing prompts and/or fandom headcanons for your fanfics?

Sometimes! 

I think some of my best works are from prompts (WHICH ARE ALWAYS OPEN, HINT HINT, NUDGE NUDGE, KNOW WHAT I MEAN KNOW WHAT I MEAN) specifically.

I rarely use sentence starters but I think I’ve done okay when I did.

But fandom headcanons? Oh hell yeah baby now we’re talking!

Can Anakin cook but Padme can’t? Hell yeah!

Togruta have some cat like features so Ahsoka is obligate carnivore and color blind? WOOOOOOOO BOYYYYYYYYYYYY!

"This is not because I like you.” is 100% something that everyone in the Horde says when trying to cover their asses, Catra’s just a useless lesbian and has to use it A Lot More Than Most. Awwwwww yeah, that’s the good stuff!

Glimmer and Catra talk to one another but only have serious conversations sitting back to back post canon. I DON’T MAKE THE RULES!

Like, god, fandom headcanon is practically what my fics live on lol! I’m not great at writing things in canon or sticking to canon, and people are amazing and smart so of course I’m going to steal their cool ideas and then mess with them until they’re my own.

18. What is your favorite writing prompt?

...I gotta be honest I have no clue lol. I’ve liked basically every prompt I’ve ever gotten (there’s literally only been 2 that I got and went “...oh.” and of those two I was able to bend the prompt into things I liked a lot! One of them is actually posted and people like it, and then other is currently sitting in the naughty prompt corner for crimes of FIGHTING ME TO A STANDSTILL every time I write a few sentences for it, but I do actually like it now lol).

I think my favorite style of prompt are ones that are open for some interpretation. You know that joke about you know a writer based on how they respond to a one word prompt like “fall” or “cold” or even “love”? I love that kind of stuff! Heck, even things with a more narrow focus are fun to play with. For one of my prompt fics I was able to flip the script and have the character everyone expects the unrequited pining from to instead be the unattainable beloved instead.

*Marge potato meme* I just think they’re neat!

43. Guilty pleasure tropes and scenarios?

None, because I am very loud about what I enjoy and refuse to have things I enjoy ripped away by strangers on the interwebs.

Okay, more seriously, as far as things that others might think are guilty pleasure tropes and scenarios?

I love a good “morons to repressed idiots to lovers” slow burn. Yes, yesssss, let them be absolute fools and make MASSIVE mistakes that they have no reason to make. There was a miscommunication? Delightful! Oh look, they’re both flirting with one another but think the other one is just joking around with them. I WILL TAKE ANOTHER 200K OF THEM SUFFERING THANK YOU!

I love AUs man, every time I see someone who really hates coffee shop AUs or highschool AUs or modern AUs I end up getting grumpy and I go find some of those AUs to read because I love them. The AUs I love the most change fandom to fandom. Not a huge fan of modern AU for star wars, but an absolute slut for them in She Ra. Palpatine chokes on a bagel and I live, but if that happened to Horde Prime I’d be pissed. *shrug* I just know that some people really don’t like or even outright hate AUs, and I do not understand them at all. Like, good for them and I hope they find the fics they do enjoy! But also, why???????

I think my “cringiest” one is that I actually really like A/B/O as long as they flip the script somehow or delve into how something like that would actually effect the world it exists in. Is sex in public a common and acceptable thing b/c they can’t control themselves? Do jobs and schools give people time off for heats and ruts? Is it considered antiquated and anyone who struggles with their biology is considered lazy or stupid? Do celebrities sometimes get in trouble with fans or even lose their jobs/prestige after showing off their new mating mark? GIVE ME THE WORLD BUILDING I WANT TO KNOW! But if it’s a really boring traditional A/B/O...like, what’s the point there? 

Please don’t misunderstand me here. These three examples are all things that are WILDLY stupid in their own rights, and I love them dearly both because of and regardless of that!

50. Can we get a teaser for an upcoming chapter?

It’s All Fun and Games Until...Stop! Stop! We’re Already Gay!

AKA the one where they all go to Mystacor to relax in the steam grotto and have to deal with seeing one another in tight fitting and wet underwear. The thirst is high.

“So…” Bow started conversationally as Sea Hawk put the finishing touches on Bow’s freshly painted nails. “How doomed are they? Are we making bets?”

Mermista and Sea Hawk made significant eye contact before looking at him pitifully. 

“What?” Bow asked, starting to sweat nervously. “What!?”

“Nothing, just-” Sea Hawk didn’t even get to finish.

“You need to get your girlfriend to get her girlfriends under control, and like, I knooooow that’s a tall order or whatever. But uuuuuuuuugggggghhh, we are going to die.”

“Girlfriend!?” Bow’s voice cracked painfully. “Ha! A-ha! Ha! W-who? I don’t, I don’t have a girlfriend, what are you even talking about?”

“Uuuuuggggggghh!”

“There, there my dear. We have survived worse.”

[breanime]

Make It Bright

Requested by @delicatelilyflower:  Hello there! It’s late and I’m feeling really happy and I thought: could you write a fic with any of Ben’s character (including Sirius) because I can’t choose where his gf is having one of her very cheerful moment and he’s just like damn I love her so much because I’m in desperate need of fluff Thank youuu

Thanks for the request, I wrote this with a bit of a headache, but I hope you like it! 

*gif by @b-n-a-o*

Sirius made his way to the library with his hands in his pockets. He had just gotten a letter from his mother—it would have been better suited as a Howler, but she was above that kind of humiliation. She liked her humiliation to sting.

And sting it did.

Sirius had burnt the letter—all five pages of it—in the Common Room fireplace, but watching it burn hadn’t done anything to ease the anger. Remus had sat with him for a while, but Sirius ended up sending him away. It wasn’t that Remus being there wasn’t nice. It was. It was just… Sirius needed to be alone. In all honesty, he wanted to be with you, but he was concerned that he wasn’t good company—and he wasn’t—so he decided to isolate himself until he felt better. Although, he wasn’t sure when that would be. It was like the words in that letter were tattooed in his brain: worthless, an embarrassment, a disgrace. It played through his head over and over again, and the more Sirius thought about it, the more he started to believe it. Maybe he was just Walburga’s bastard son, her one mistake in her pristine life. Maybe he was worthless and useless and everything she said he was. Maybe he deserved her hatred, her venom. It was his inheritance, after all. Plus, Sirius had to admit: the old bird was sharp. His mother was evil and cold and ruthless, but she was intelligent, too. So who was to say she wasn’t right about him? Maybe he was a disgrace and good for nothing. Maybe he deserved to be unhappy—Merlin knows his bloodline alone kept him perpetually miserable. He thought, when he’d first come to Hogwarts, that maybe he would find happiness there. Peter, Remus, and James became his family, loved and appreciated him despite his last name. They were there for him when his own family—when his own brother—shunned him. They made him happy.

And then there was you. Sirius had liked you the first time he saw your smile. He knew you’d be good friends the first time you pulled a prank with him (you jinxed James so every time he said “Lily”, “Evans”, or “Quidditch” he burped rainbow-colored bubbles for a month). It wasn’t too long after that he realized he loved you. Everything about you made him feel…safe and warm. When you smiled, Sirius felt like everything was right in the world. When he held you, when you were enclosed in his arms, lips against his, he felt invincible. He felt like he had a purpose. He felt… the exact opposite of how he felt now.

Right now…he felt like garbage. And even worse: it felt like he deserved to feel like garbage.

And then he heard your laugh. It was unmistakable; it was the sound of joy and hope and love…unfiltered, uncompromising, unconditional love. He stopped in his tracks, his head immediately turning towards the sound. You were at a table with James and Lily, and you were making the parchment float above you while you ‘studied’. James and Lily were laughing, but it was only your laugh Sirius was focused on. You had a smile from ear to ear, and it was like Sirius was watching the sun rise. He stood there and stared at you for what was probably only seconds, but it felt like minutes. His heart stopped when you looked up and noticed him standing there.

“Sirius!” You turned your million-watt smile to him, and Sirius couldn’t help but smile in return. “There you are! Come study with us, love!”

He chuckled as he walked over. “Doesn’t look like you’re doing much studying.”

“I’m the most brilliant wizard at this bloody school,” James boasted, “I don’t need to study!”

“Second most brilliant,” Sirius said back easily.

“Third if we’re factoring in Remus,” you added.

“Fourth if you count Severus,” Lily said.

“We do not,” James scoffed, offended.

James and Lily—Jily, as you called them—dissolved into soft arguing with a strong hint of sexual tension as Sirius just stared down at you. You titled your head as you looked at him; you could always read him like a book. He knew you could see the weight on his shoulders, just like he knew you would take it upon yourself to fix them.

And you did—easily.

You patted the seat next to you, and Sirius immediately felt a wave of warm comfort wash over him at your closeness. You didn’t make it a big deal, you just… You were just being yourself. You sat close enough that your shoulder touched his, and you made sure to smile in his direction as you spoke with him, voice hushed as not to interrupt Jily’s charged ‘discussion’. His face was starting to hurt from smiling so much. Just being around you made him feel light and warm and…

“I love you,” he whispered, leaning in close to you.

Your smile warmed him to the core. “I love you, too,” you whispered back. “Hey,” you dropped your voice lower, properly effecting a conspiratorial whisper, “this is for you.” You knocked your knee against his under the table, and he felt you slip something into his hand. “Don’t read it here.”

“Seriously?” He looked down at the slip of paper in his hands, a smirk on his face. “We’re writing notes now, love?”

“Go,” you gestured towards a bookcase with your head, “Read it now.”

Chuckling, Sirius got up, kissing you on the head before walking over to the bookcase a few feet away. He shook his head, your smile imprinted on his heart. He unfolded the paper, recognizing your familiar handwriting, and even that made him feel better. His heart pounded in his chest as he read it.

Love,

Your mother is a twat. Remus told me what happened, so I took it upon myself to write you a letter that isn’t full of absolute bullshit.

Sirius, I love you. I adore you. You make me feel like the most beautiful, most important person in the world and I don’t know where I would be without you. I know that sometimes you might not feel like it, but you are irreplaceable. You make every day better, and I hope you know that. I’m still in awe that you chose me, decided to be with me, because you could have anyone you wanted. And I hope that I make you even half as happy as you make me. I could on and on about how much I love you (way more than five pages worth), but I think I would rather show you. Are you free tonight?

Sirius grinned. Hell yeah he was free—he lived for the nights when he would sneak into your dorm. The cost for a night spent with you in his arms, with him inside you, kissing you, caressing you was just one a simple wave of his wand charming the area around the bed so he could enjoy every single sound he made you make without threat of interruption. Licking his lips, he read on, the smile stuck on his face.

I’m going to assume that you are, so I’ll see you tonight, handsome. But until then, I need you to take your wand out and say the following words: “I solemnly swear that my mum is a twat”.

He laughed. He took his wand out, held it against the note and said: “I solemnly swear that my mum is a twat.”

His grin widened as he watched different handwriting appear in the note. He would know that writing anywhere: Moony, Wormtail, and Prongs.

Peter’s note appeared first:

Did you know that I wrote about you in my first letter home? I was so excited that Sirius Black talked to me. To be honest, I was quite sure you were pulling a prank on me at first, but… You weren’t. (at least I don’t think you were…or are) But, if I’m being honest, mate, I really look up to you. I mean—imagine being me. I’m not talented like you all, not good looking like you or James or good at talking like Remus, but… You’re friends with me anyway. And you don’t have to be—I mean, you’re Sirius Black, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You’re not even graduated yet and you’re a legend. I guess what I’m trying to say is… your mother is wrong about you. You’re not worthless, Sirius. To be honest…you’re my hero.

Sirius wiped his eyes—not because he was crying or anything, but because his eyes were dry. That was it.

Next was Remus.

I hope you don’t mind that I spoke with the fellas (and your lady) about what happened with your mother. You know I don’t like to be rude to elders but your mum’s a bitch. She called you a disgrace? You? The one who spent months to become an animagus and stuck with the literal disgrace? (By the way, I know you’re making a face right now because I referred to myself as a disgrace, and I know you’re probably thinking ‘how could you think that, Moony?’. That is exactly how I felt sitting with you after you read that letter) I couldn’t ask for a better friend, confidant, brother, and fellow Marauder. You came into Hogwarts as a cocky little fucker with stupid hair, and you’re going to leave it a cocky big fucker with stupid hair and a big heart. You, my friend, are a true Gryffindor, and we are beyond fortunate to have you. I look forward to burning more letters from your mother in the (near) future and causing mischief. Moony out.

Sirius sniffled. What an ass. James’ handwriting appeared below Remus’, and Sirius shook his head as he read the words.

Mate—are you out of your mind? You must be if you’re giving any serious (haha, Sirius is being serious) thought to what your mum said. What did she say? You were a disgrace and an embarrassment? Has she looked into a mirror? That hairstyle (which I still think is just a dead bat wrapped in barbed wire) is a disgrace. But, in all seriousness, Padfoot, you are amazing. Your mum might never see how great you are, but we do. And you know there’s always a room for you at mine���my mum is probably making up a room for you as we speak. Next holiday, you’re coming home with me! And tonight we’re breaking into the kitchens and eating as much chocolate as Moony will let us (which is going to be all of it!)—oh, don’t worry, I know about your “‘plans’” with Y/N tonight, I promise that this won’t interfere with that… you dirty dog (ha! DOG!). But you know, Pads, you’re my very best friend. You make me laugh, you challenge me, you’re like the best part of me—which is saying a lot because there’s are just sooo many great things about me—and I don’t know who I would be without you (or who you would be without me), but I’m glad I know you. I love ya, mate.

Now say “my dad’s no prize either”.

Laughing, Sirius pressed the wand to the paper. “My Dad’s no prize either,” he said. He tucked the paper into his pants and peaked around the corner, where he was greeted by your brilliant smile. He mouthed “I love you”, and you mouthed it back.

“Oi!” James yelled, completely disregarding the rules of the library, “I love you too, you giant git!”

“Not as much as I love you, ya wanker!” Sirius shouted back.

You were all promptly kicked out of the library—but that was ok. As Sirius walked down the hall with his hand in yours, James and Lily at his side, he started to realize just how lucky he was. He might not be close with his family—he might never be close with them again—but that was fine. He had a family here. He looked over at James and saw a brother, and a possible sister-in-law in Lily. As they turned a corner and ran into Remus and Peter, he saw two more brothers—brothers who weren’t bogged down with instilled hate, brothers who saw potential in him, but at the same time accepted him for exactly who he was. And, when Sirius looked down at you and your loving, heart-stopping smile, he saw his future.

And he knew his future would be as bright as your smile, no matter what his mother said.

And he was damn grateful for it.

****************************************************************************************

I’m a Slut for found families! Hope you guys liked this, and I’m sorry I haven’t been posting much this week. Hopefully I get back on it next week! Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @floralpeaceofmind​ @delicatelilyflower​ @dylanobrusso​ @ladyblablabla​ @banditthewriter​ @something-tofightfor​  @starsfragments​ @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme​ @hisgirlwednesdayaddams​@fictionwillneverdie @maria-beretta​ @sadnessxvodka​ @ymariejp​ @sunnycolors​ @moonlightsay​ @its-all-o-kay @damagelove​ @keyeluh @itsmylife98​ @funerals-with-cake​ @littlemermaidprobz​ @teacuplotus​ @king4thesirens​ @mrsjaxtellerfan​ @thebabblingbook​ @tartelette-aux-fraises​ @madamrogers​  @charlylama​ @iaintnofurry​​ @k-buggz2001​​ @whitewolfslittlesilverfox @drinix​ @elanor-of-imladris​ @blah-blah-fuckit-shit @julliiaaq​ @holamor​ @ymariejp@shadowhunterscloset @songtoyou​ @anabella-baby @sssilverssserpent​ @heyitslexy @luminex3 @sithskywalkers @carlaangel86 @sssilverssserpent @jupiter-blake @binbons-is-theloml @captainblackeyes @importantkidmakerfire @luminex3 

(I couldn’t get it to tag some of you guys, so if you didn’t get tagged and you SHOULD have, please let me know)

[omg-johndel-b-villarin]

ASYNCHRONOUS TASK. NO. 1

ACTIVITY 1:

1.    What is CREATIVE WRITING?

>Is a writing, typically fiction, or poetry, which displays imagination or invention (often contrasted with academic or journalistic writing).

2.    Why study Creative Writing?

>Because it can help our writing skills, as well as editing, marketing, teamwork, problem solving, leadership and more that can help in our daily life.

3.    Why is being creative important for survival in this post truth world?

>In order for each of us to be unique and different. To be well known, familiarize, and remember by others with our/my contribution, creativity, invention, and contribution in this planet.        

4.    Do you think that creativity involves putting your heart and soul into your work? Or is it more like letting your mind flow freely to witness the surprising results of your actions? Explain your answer.    

>I think that it is the best if we include or put our hearts and souls if we are doing something. It is because to make our work colorful, meaningful, and one of a kind. We should always remember to exert our hearts, souls, efforts, time, and compassion whenever we make something to create a masterpiece.

 5.    Do you believe that it is important to be accepted by others as being creative or is just doing what you love to do enough to justify your work? Explain.

>Well in that case I would like to stay silent, humble and continue what I like to do. `Cause I believe that I don`t need to please anyone to like and appreciates my works. But if they do then thank you! And if they don`t still it`s a pleasure. I will push and continue to be creative, different, and rare.

ACTIVITY 2:

Writing Imaginatively

Write a sentence or two to explain what is happening. (3 points each number)

 1. "Don't move," he whispered.

-The man said to stay still and not move a muscle.

-He seriously ordered not to move.

 2. It was the opposite of love at first sight.

-They might hate and not like each other when they meet.

-They didn`t felt the love by just looking at one another.

 3. The scream sounded far away.

-The loud voice come from a far.

-From a distant place they hear a person rise his/her voice.

 4. It got harder every time.

-As the time pass it just got difficult and not easy.

-Whenever the days past the situation just got worsen and hard to handle.

 5. If it hadn't rained that night, everything would have turned out differently.

-If the sky was clear and bright on the said night, it would happen in a unusual way.

-All the things that have been done, could be distant if the clouds didn`t cry.

   JOURNAL WRITING:

What makes you a creative person?

As this is your first journal entry, introduce yourself in a creative way. Include photographs to add creativity and visuals in your writing. This is a free writing. Write your entry on the next page. Have your own title, you may attach additional page for your photographs if necessary.

 Journal Entry #1

                                                                                                A SLIPPER KEYCHAIN

                                                                At a first glance of it most individuals just see it as a simple decoration, just a thing hanging on my/a bag. In short, useless, has no purpose, but just a thing. But for me it`s different it might be weird however this slipper keychain of mine could be very useful because it adds design and make a thing colourful, attractive and can make some people smile and yes it represent me due to its simpleness , firmness, hardness (strong), and durability. So just like this slipper keychain, it/I might be simple, small, and not like by many. But somehow I manage to shine, stand out and find my own purpose.

[lofiyeol]

PAPERCUTS - CHAPTER 2

summary: After the sudden deaths of two of their friends, Chanyeol and Baekhyun try to piece together what happened and end up uncovering a tangled love story.

rating: R

genre: angst!!! a lot of it!!!

pairing: kyungsoo/jongin

length: chaptered

warning: suicide mentions throughout

READ ON AFF

He has dreams, extraordinarily vivid and yet bizarrely indescribable, containing the familiar soft visage of Kyungsoo and the jagged, squiggly one of Jongin, the unknown. Flitting in and out of sleep, each time he opens his eyes to the waking world he’s greeted with a different scene—Baekhyun alone, staring out the window, sitting cross legged on the floor, Minseok and Baekhyun talking in hushed tones over the coffee table, and then Jongdae on the phone, leaning against the wall, his usually happy face drawn into uncharacteristic grim lines. When he finally sits up, night has already fallen and he and Baekhyun are alone again. The television dances with bright colors, and Baekhyun’s attention is grasped by the videogame on the screen, sitting completely still other than his thumbs pressing combinations into the controller. Chanyeol watches him play for a little while as his consciousness slowly returns.

An evening breeze floats in through the cracked window, cutting icy cold across Chanyeol’s cheeks. The moon is especially bright tonight, the light of its pale face hitting the side of Baekhyun’s crouched form and casting a strange malformed shadow on the carpet. It triggers an image from Chanyeol’s dream: Jongin, dancing, face obscured, in some bizarre landscape of desert and tundra mixed together. As his feet swept through sand and snow, they had drawn a picture—a malformed figure, a hunched and fanged monster with clawed hands.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says, voice barely a whisper from the day of disuse. Baekhyun immediately turns around, forgetting the game. “You’re awake.”

            “Is there… food?”

            “Yeah.” Baekhyun stands. “My mom made some for you before she went to bed for if you woke up in the middle of the night. I’ll get it.” He disappears from view for a few moments before returning with a tray of kimbap, which he places in Chanyeol’s blanketed lap.

            “Thank you.”

            Baekhyun sits down next to Chanyeol as he eats. They both watch the little character bouncing on the game’s home screen.

            “Minseok and Jongdae came by. They got told the same as us. Jongdae went to Jongin’s house since he lives nearby but it was all taped off and nobody would let him inside. He ran into Jongin’s landlord who said Jongin lived there by himself, no mom or dad or siblings with him. Kyungsoo’s parents are going to have the funeral for him soon, but I don’t know what’s going to happen with Jongin. Jongdae seemed to think he had no family at all.”

            The 8-bit theme song repeats and repeats in the background as Chanyeol chews slowly through his food. “Do you know… why?”

            “No. Nobody does, except cops. Right now, at least.” Baekhyun steals a roll of kimbap off Chanyeol’s plate. “Jongdae told me both bodies were at Jongin’s but that’s all the information he got.”

            The tremble in Baekhyun’s lower lip is just barely noticeable, but his emotions are betrayed by his breaking voice. “I-I didn’t even really know they were friends.”

            This is the part that hurts Chanyeol the most, that will keep him up every night for the next few months: just how much he didn’t know.

                       Baekhyun eventually crashes in the early hours of the morning, falling asleep face down in the couch, wrinkled school uniform bunching at his knees. Chanyeol stays awake until the morning rolls in. The sky is as pleasant as the day before, swollen white clouds grazing past the bright sun. Not a spot of darkness to be seen. Chanyeol moves a cushion so that it blocks the light from Baekhyun’s sleeping eyes before he leaves.

            The cold wind whips his body he walks out of Baekhyun’s apartment complex, and he pulls his scarf tighter around his neck. Suffocating himself, comforting himself—Chanyeol can’t be bothered to tell the difference. Today’s issue of the Seoul Herald is splayed open on the cobblestones of the driveway, pages fluttering in a desperate plea for attention. Chanyeol thinks the newspaper looks like a body, the white of bone and black of death open in a terrible perverted blossom. But everything is starting to look like bodies to him now, the flowers and ivy and cracked walls and trash bags lining the streets. He snatches the newspaper into his shaking hands as he begins to make his way to the bus stop.

            SUCIDES IN SEODAEMUN-GU

            He expected something, but the title displayed on the paper’s front page still makes him wince and his heart fall into his stomach. The outside of what he assumes is Jongin’s house is printed in vivid color, a small, unassuming apartment decked in caution tape like some twisted art installation.

            The bus is full of morning commuters but Chanyeol squeezes in, folding into a corner and hiding himself behind the newspaper. Beneath his thick coat his insides feel like they’re wrapped up in some pressurized knot, only getting tighter and tighter as his eyes drink in the words.

            Two bodies of teenaged boys were located yesterday in a Seodaemun-Gu apartment, dead of apparent suicide. Though motivations are still unknown, the fact remains that these are two additions to the record-breaking number of teen suicides this year. Teen suicide is becoming an undeniable epidemic in South Korea, one we as a society cannot ignore any longer.

            Chanyeol flips angrily through the statistics and hotline numbers, looking desperately for more images, more details, names and times and reasons, but comes up empty handed. Gritting his teeth, he crunches the newspaper into a ball.

            He feels wrong. Every limb in his body doesn’t work the way it should, his brain keeps misplacing thoughts and his tongue flops useless in his mouth. Chanyeol couldn’t care less about most things; he had never had a serious outlook on life and did fine for himself, armed with a flirtatious tongue and boyish good looks. With Baekhyun by his side, he was one half of an unstoppable dynamic duo, the both of them likeable for their own good. Now, Chanyeol can’t even remember what it felt like to smile, or to function properly at all. He stares at the blank ceiling trying to understand how it’s only been a day since he got the news—how will he last?

            He manages to find his apartment through the thick fog filling his brain and buzzes himself in, slogging up a flight of stairs to his front door. His mother’s hair smells like flower perfume as she embraces him wordlessly into a hug.

            “Did you eat? I made toast. Baekhyun’s mother called and told me you spent the day at their house. She said you looked really ill. Are you okay? Do you have a fever?”

            “M’fine,” Chanyeol mutters as he pulls out of her embrace. “Really.”

            “Well, if you need anything…” Chanyeol’s mother falters.

            “I’m fine.” Chanyeol touches her shoulder as he walks to his room.

            He has the wherewithal to pretend in front of his mother. But when he shuts the door behind him, he sinks to the ground, brow broken out in sweat. It’s hurting him more than he would have expected.

            Not like Chanyeol had ever thought of a situation even remotely close to this one before—Kyungsoo was healthy, ostensibly happy, and had been a part of Chanyeol’s life since elementary school. They laughed and played almost every day; even when Baekhyun entered the picture at the beginning of middle school Kyungsoo didn’t take a backseat. They lived close to each other after all, and Chanyeol went to his house every week to do homework and watch television and drink when Kyungsoo’s mother was out. It was a normal life Kyungsoo had, and Chanyeol thought he knew a lot about it. His mind reels, attempting to reckon once more with the present situation. Again, he hits a wall. It’s too preposterous to comprehend.

            Furiously he rummages through his backpack and fishes out his cellphone, which thankfully has ten percent of battery left, and scrolls quickly through his contacts. He has to hear it from the person who knows the most. Right now, that appears to be Jongdae.

            His classmate picks up on the first ring. “Chanyeol?”

            “Hey,” Chanyeol starts lamely. Jongdae cuts to the chase.

            “I was at Baekhyun’s earlier, but you were asleep. I assume he told you some details.”

            “Yeah, but I want to talk to you.” Chanyeol pulls off his jacket, tossing it onto his bed. The door is cool as he leans his back against it. “You know… something, right? More than anyone else?”

            “I just live close to Jongin, that’s all. I went to his house and saw the outside of it. They wouldn’t let me in, obviously, but they told me to give them my name and they might be in contact if they needed anything.”

            “Like what?”

            “Actually…” Jongdae falters, and then clears his throat. “The police need a… second ID. On the bodies. Specifically Jongin’s. They want to be sure.”

            It’s surreal. It’s so surreal that Chanyeol’s tongue is tied and his legs are locking and his arm is hanging limply by his side. Jongdae’s sigh crackles through the speaker. “I can’t believe this is fucking happening.”

            “I can’t either,” Chanyeol manages through his lips that suddenly feel too thick.

            They sit in each other’s silence for a moment. Chanyeol’s mind can’t create anything but the image of Kyungsoo’s eyes, forced perpetually open with death.

            “You should come. I told Baekhyun and Minseok as well. You should come with me to the police station later today. We were Jongin’s closest friends. Kyungsoo’s mother is going to be there too and I think she’d like to see you.”

            “Yeah, yeah,” Chanyeol says faintly. “Yeah, I’ll… I want to see her… and Kyungsoo too. It’s just all happening so fast.”

            “Take it easy. Just stay at home. Try to think about something else.” Jongdae’s sentence trails off, as if he knows his own advice is as good as impossible. “I’ll text you the time, okay? See you soon.”

            “Okay,” Chanyeol says, and Jongdae hangs up. The sudden absence of his friend’s voice makes Chanyeol shiver.

                       His mother makes him hot cocoa, Chanyeol’s favorite childhood drink. He sits in his room, watching the sun move through the slats in his window shades, forgetting to blink for so long that it looks like a punctured orange egg yolk leaking out into the sky.

            Chanyeol already knows he’s going to have to get used to waiting. For answers, for results, for reports, for closure. It feels like he’s just started a new life where suddenly nothing is about him anymore. The stupid petty problems he had when things were normal feel like hazy dots in his distant memory. Just things he wasted time focusing on while Kyungsoo was dying every day, right before his eyes. So fucking selfish…

            Dying. The word rolls around in his brain, still so foreign. As much as he puts the name Kyungsoo and the word dead together, it doesn’t make any sense.

                Him and Baekhyun and Jongdae and Minseok… all of them left behind in some split-off parallel universe that wasn’t supposed to exist. Chanyeol feels his lids begin to grow heavy with the haze of confusion and hurt and he crumples into sleep, slumping against the door.