#wanted to practice using color jitter brushes too

[wanderingibon]

✷ inquisitor hiraya 'lark' lavellan (they/them)

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, husband nanami, unprotected, whiny nanami, using a vibrator on him, praise, nıpple play, mdni.

“go ahead m- my love but, that’s kind of . . kinky,” nanami sheepishly huffs, slouching further back against the fluffed pillows that rests on the mattress. with pretty umber eyes boring into you, he’s giving your nude body occasional three second glances before he stares between your legs—you’re a mere tease, hovering over his leaky cock. just a few seconds ago, you were riding him and now, you abruptly stopped with a cute impish look curling against your lips. “a vibrator on..me?”

leaning in, you press a wet kiss into the pulled out blue collar of his business shirt he wore. ruffled and crinkled, you smell near the edge of the fabric, intaking a long whiff of his cologne before humming. “jus’ hold my hand, ‘ken,” and he feels his heart race at your sweet words. nanami’s legs sprawl themselves further apart before he grabs onto your hip. another hand finds its way to yours, interlocking his slender fingers within your own. the inside of his open palm was warm and his breath hectically shakes once he hears the faint ‘pop’ sound of you switching the toy on. “thaaat’s it kento, just relax.”

“f- fuck,” nanami’s jaw tightens almost immediately once the rubber head of the vibrator skims its way onto his tip. you’re real slow, pacing your movements but he was already near the inevitable carnal edge. nanami lets off a throaty groan, gradually tossing his head back and his adam’s apple bobs in rapture. as you’re cowering over his lap, you use a free hand to swipe a few blond strands of hair way from his face. so pretty. nanami’s trying to maintain his neutral stoic expression but he ends up shivering right away instead. his sounds were so pleasing to the ear. gruffly low moans came from him—he’s moaning out your name again and again like a broken record whilst briefly teetering his weight underneath you. the jittering toy rubs all over his swollen tip before his abs clench underneath his shirt. “honey, you’re killing me here,” and his bottom lip quivers before he stares at your teasingly jerking body. “let me touch you at least, please.”

amused, you hum at how needy he was.

how desperate he was to touch you more, brushing his fingers inside of the cave of your warm just wasn’t enough. he wanted more.

the toy was on the lowest level—yet, it felt like it was at its highest point. nanami’s pathetically twitching and spiraling underneath you, and you’re not making it any better by leisurely dragging your sopping cunt against the toy and his tip at the same time. “ngh, kento you feel so good, baby,” you feel a tugging coil within your stomach practically snap. nanami’s cock stood tall, rosé-colored with his cockhead glistening with pre-cum. it’s pretty, his balls were all full and a few achy veins prod through his skin at the toe-curling friction.

as the seconds pass, the tumultuous screams of the vibrator only grow louder. nanami’s thigh starts to bounce before his mouth pries open. “aw, ‘s okay, kento. doing so good.”

“honey, don’t ‘aw’ me,” he groans, and you can’t help but giggle at his brief sass. it later turns into a long drawn out moan because he can barely hold his head up anymore. nanami’s entire body feels hot - too hot. with your body so close up to him, he’s burning up, with the help of the toy also. he swallows thickly, failing to get that lump that’s trapped in the far back part of his throat.

your teasing had his blond arched brows curling up in obscene frustration—he even made an attempt at feeling down body but you grab his wrist. a small pout twists against his spit-glossed lips before he grumps. “how are y- you gonna deny me what’s mine?”

you kiss near his chiseled chin, feeling his naturally crooked lips curl from your tender touch. he wants you so bad.

“be patient, baby,” you murmur, hot breath ghosting against his skin. you’re so close that you feel the brief tickle of minuscule hairs that grow underneath his bottom lip. nanami grunts, the vibrations of the toy making him moan. but not only does it make him moan, it makes him whine.

the second you flip the switch to turn it on the second level, nanami loses it. he’s an entire drooling mess underneath you as it’s grazing against his tip. you’re holding the toy with one hand, softly moving it back and forth against his swollen head and poking at his peeling frenulum. his entire cock felt the teeth-shattering convulsions and they feel like straight electricity.

“pleaseplease,” he whimpers out, entirely a abandoning his bland façade. this was a new nanami. you don’t think you’ve ever heard him beg before, let alone hear him whine. his voice was so sweet despite the creeping rasp that bellows from his words. his hair was a mess, nanami’s sweating pinballs as he’s jostling underneath you. his pretty pink lips get gnawed at by his teeth before they start to quiver. “let me touch you, i wanna touch my wife. fuck, jus’ wanna touch you. feel you everywhere, please.”

and as he’s rambling with compressed eyebrows and a needy pout, you lean your head down, pressing yourself right up against his beefy pecs. tears of sweat race down his perfectly sculptured body, although you can spot a bit of a rounded tummy on nanami.

it’s cute. just the way his presentable blond happy trail roams further down toward his decorated pubes, you found yourself staring a lot longer than you intended. “you wanna touch me?” you sweetly coo, swaying the toy back and forth in a circular motion with your entire wrist, feeling his shaking only intensify. he could hear his unsteady pulses from his heart beat through his ears—and oh, he’s never felt so sensitive.

his response was a desperate nod—nanami groans lowly, an almost growl as his lips part. strained breaths snatch from his lungs before his eyes meet yours. as he stares at you intently, he swears he’d fallen in love with you all over again.

nanami was a simple man. a simple pussy whipped man.

“go ‘head, touch me,” you purr, and he doesn’t expect for you to press your lips right up against his pecs - only to then slide your head up his shirt, putting your lips against his neglected perky nipples. as you suck, he doesn’t waste any time, allowing his broad big hands to roam all over your body, savoring your soft skin colliding with the insides of his palms.

nanami then whines again, the current stimulation making him an entire mess and leaving him speechless. with the way he’s sounding because of your tongue salaciously flicking near his sensitive nub, you could barely recognize him from his tone. the warm tip of your tongue gingerly rolls itself around his nipple while you’re still rubbing the toy over his drooling tip. his head tosses back again before he uses a hand to grab onto the wooden creaking headboard. “fuck, fuck you’re an odd one, sweetheart.”

you hum with his nipple still stuffed in your mouth before throwing the toy aside on the other part of the bed. he hears the soft thud before feeling your welcoming warm cunt slowly sink its way back down onto his cock. nanami groans, his eyes widening—lips spreading and jaw clenching. “oh m- my,” he eyes trail down at you, and he pulls you closer into his chest. “honey, you’re so dirty. ‘m gonna cum.”

and as you’re sucking against his pec, nanami lets off a hoarse groan. he’s halfway in and he’s already shooting inside, various creamy ropes pour into you all at once and you hear the familiar squelch. it’s abrupt and so quick it gives him whiplash. his body feels like it’s all on fire—he chews the inside of his cheek before he’s just left stunned with his mouth dangling open. “mmf,” you feel a few viscid strands of saliva dribble from the corners your mouth, and he feels his cock twitch at the sight.

nanami grunts, everything feeling like an indescribable blur. his body including his weighty shaft that’s partially buried inside of you was limp. this candied fervor he’s feeling—he never wanted it to go away. one of his hands cling to your waist, piercing his padded callused thumbs into your soft skin. “ugh, told you,” he grouses, feverish balmy spurts of cum still oozing its way inside. it’s velvety, you feel wads of it spill inside before spilling right back out, painting down the edges of your thighs with ivory white. nanami’s breath was still shaky as you’re playfully jerking forward, barely moving a muscle but to him, it feels like you’re riding him. “y- you always make a mess out of me.”

“good boy, kento.” you remove his pec from your mouth, getting from under his shirt and you cup his face—only to pepper a few sprinkle of gentle kisses near his cute buttoned nose.

his lip quivers at your praise and he almost always gets off from it - your praise. your praise to him was technically dirty talk. as he’s slumped underneath you, all submissive and broken, nanami has the most pussy drunken grin.

“i- i wanna get you pregnant again, sweetheart. wanna make you a pretty mommy again. please, god i need more. more of you.”

[underratedandoverit]

your colors

~1,5k words

orangekip (orange cassidy/kip sabian)

set in the belt corruption arc/immortal fears. its just fluff. slightly touches on some deeper stuff in the au canon but its like nothing lol. they are just cute cause i had a need. also no i did not proofread this i am tipsy (sorry)

@midnightpretenders0 as promised 💜

on ao3

-------------

Humming quietly to himself, Kip watched as the black coat of paint slowly covered his nails one by one, with shift and precise brush movements. He had practiced this enough times by now to know how to do it effectively and without being too messy, and he was honestly really happy about his handiwork. Nail polish was one of the easiest things for him to bring back to his daily look after he started to recover and the hand jitters stopped being so frequent, funnily enough.

He was very fond of the black color, though Kip wasn’t opposed to trying out more if given the chance. He had talked to Penelope about it, her helping him with choosing brands and picking colors she thought might fit him, eventually getting him to a rather large selection to choose from depending what he was feeling when it was time for a repaint. Still, he most often defaulted to black, occasionally dark red, as those made him felt most like himself, them being his signature colors more or less.

Kip’s eyes rose up from his work as he heard the balcony door being clicked open, with a smile on his face he watched the blond walking out to the morning air with two cups of coffee in his hands. Cassidy had probably noticed that Kip was awake way earlier than him, which wasn’t anything unusual considering his odd sleep habits and schedule right now. But despite still feeling a bit off about everything, Kip wanted to be on the road with him for a bit. It had been too long since he had been able to spend time together with Cassidy, and this was the only way right now that they were able to do it.

As he lowered the cups on the table, Cassidy took a seat on the chair opposite from Kip, watching the hands he had rested on the table as he waited for the nail polish to settle and dry. He had seen Kip do this a few times now, but something about it just fascinated him every single time. Cassidy wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but something about seeing him with nail polish intrigued him. Maybe it was the fact that it was like a gate back to what used to have been, that it was a true sight of normalcy for him, for Kip.

“They look nice,” he finally stated, watching as Kip beamed back at him. Considering the neat work he could do on his nails, even with his non-dominant hand, it was still slightly odd for Cassidy to see the slightly uneven eyeliner the man was sporting. Kip was definitely back into taking better care of the way he looked, taking what little steps he could to go back to the normal of before, and Cassidy was definitely happy about that. But the unevenness of everything was still slightly throwing him off.

“Black really suits you.”

Kip looked down at his nails, nodding his head a little. “Yeah… Though I would love to try more colors some day.”

Cassidy followed up with a nod of his own before reaching for one of the coffee cups, lifting it up to meet with his lips. Kip observed him from under his brows, watching as Cassidy’s eyes traveled from him to the view beyond the balcony railing. It was rare to see the man without his sunglasses, but Kip was glad he was allowed such a pretty view this early in the morning. He was definitely privileged in the way he was able to see all of this, but Kip didn’t complain. He did enjoy watching those blue, still slightly sleepy eyes in the morning sun especially.

The longer he looked at Cassidy, the more a thought rose itself in the back of his mind. Kip kept glancing down to his own nails, then looking back at the other man seemingly paying him no mind, just enjoying the quiet morning moment with him on the balcony. Kip wasn’t sure how he was going to ask him about it, but the longer he kept looking at Cassidy and especially that hand that was holding the coffee cup right next to his face, the more the urge to do something about it took him over.

Finally, Kip pushed himself up from his seat, gathering a rather questioning look from Cassidy at the sudden movement.

“I’ll be right back.”

Cassidy nodded slowly, but Kip was already gone by the time he was done with the gesture. He wasn’t entirely sure what the Brit’s deal was, but he wasn’t going to question it. He had learned to let Kip do his thing mostly uninterrupted, at least as long as it all seemed harmful, to try to help ease him back into daily life and being comfortable with himself and being around others. Other times it worked just fine, sometimes Cassidy had to intervene, but he had learned to just let Kip try and see what came out of it. And these kinds of sudden bursts of activity and inspiration weren’t anything unusual for him, Cassidy was fairly certain he had been like this before too, so seeing him return to that kind of behavior of really wanting to do something or act on things was more than welcome in his books.

Soon Kip returned to the balcony, this time getting a slightly bit questioning look from Cassidy as he watched Kip lower more bottles of nail polish on the table. His eyes traveled from the already black painted nails of the other man to the new bottles, orange and light blue, slightly confused about what he was planning on doing.

Cassidy growing even more so confused as Kip reached a hand towards him.

“Gimme your hand.”

Cassidy hesitated for a moment, but eventually obliged as Kip didn’t seem to let him deny him. He swapped the coffee cup from one hand to another, slowly offering the now free hand towards Kip. The man took it with much enthusiasm, gently lowering it to the table before reaching for one of the nail polish bottles, twisting the top of it open.

Cassidy just watched him, allowing Kip to do his thing. He had to admit that he had never worn nail polish before, and feeling the slightly sticky and cold substance even through his nails was a rather weird feeling. The brush was in very capable hands though he had to admit, as Kip barely painted outside of the nail, working very carefully to make sure his work was perfect. Cassidy observed as he painted every other nail light blue and every other orange, before motioning for his other hand to do the same.

He had no reason to say no. Something about watching Kip work so effortlessly and with such focus was fascinating to him, and it had honestly been so long since Cassidy had last seen him be like this that he couldn’t help but to watch him, stare at him, as Kip focused so hard on making sure the paint job was even and as close to perfect as possible. Cassidy had seen Kip do this plenty of times on himself, but there was something else about him working on someone else. The usual perfectionist was there, sure, but maybe it was the clear extra love and care he was putting on this job that made it seem even more adorable than Cassidy already thought it was.

As Kip finished his work, he finally looked back up at Cassidy, trying to get a reading from his face. The man hadn’t resisted or barely moved during the process and Kip had been so focused on getting everything perfect that it had been hard to say what he had been thinking so far. Cassidy was looking at his hands, from the distance, clearly observing, but he remained silent. And yet, Kip could see the little smile tucking from the corner of his lips on the usually so stoic face, that he was already counting it as a victory.

“I thought,” Kip finally spoke up, as if trying to justify his work after the silence grew too unbearable for him to handle, Cassidy finally looking directly back at him, “You might like your signature colors too. They suit you.”

Cassidy nodded, watching a smile rise up on Kip’s lips. “I think they’re great. Thanks.”

Ever so blunt, but Kip knew he meant it. He stood up, gathered the nail polish bottles in one hand, stopping by the table for a moment as he leaned down, pressing a quick little kiss on Cassidy’s forehead.

“Now don’t move for a while, they need to dry,” he stated, watching as the blond nodded back at him before Kip disappeared back inside the hotel room briefly, in the time he was gone leaving Cassidy to wonder how in the world was he going to finish drinking his coffee though.

[ava-monstrum]

It's strawberry jam I promise @yumikeki

This was a piece I was working on to try an develop an art style for commissions since I don't have a consistent way I draw.

It was supposed to be simple and easy, but I underestimated how long this would take lol. Perhaps if I keep practicing, I'll be able to do it faster, but I had REALLY unrealistic expectations for how much effort this would take and how much I would charge for it. I haven't actually drawn full illustrations in a while so I had to learn the hard way how much effort drawing actually takes.

Still, I enjoyed working on this piece. I hope Yumi likes it too. Creepy art is sorta a niche market in tuber art I would say. So I hope to deliver lol.

There were a couple of inspirations behind this style:

Eagerly awaiting Limbus Company, I began to be interested in the chili style of their sprites, so I think that had at least a subconcies effect on the drawing.

@/petday is a great artist who I admire. They have a very messy style that felt unique to me. Since I don't have much patience for clean line work, I thought I would just embrace at least a little bit of messiness or spontaneity. Though I didn't study any of their techniques or design principles. Instead, I used my own method (I presume petday doesn't draw this way) and blocked out the silhouette of the character with a brown color and then sorta, carved out parts of the figure with a brush with color jitter on. I think this kinda gives it more structure that some of pet day's messier art, but the line width is less cosistent. I kinda like the effect it has.

There were also other artists with a similar style that influenced me.

I saw a tutorial on twitter about enabling color jitter. I had actually used color jitter in the past, but seeing the tutorial reignited my liking of the tool.

I took minor inspiration from impressionist works and other paintings too. I just noticed how the brushstrokes outlined the shape of objects, giving them a more three dimensional look. Using color jitter, I tried to bring out the contours of Yumi's figure so that she didn't just have flat coloring. This was the part that took the most time lol. Though I guess I should've known that manually coloring with individual brushstrokes would take time. The more you know.

So yeah, just wanted to share a bit of my thought process behind this piece and highlight an artist who inspired me. I like rambling about this kinda thing. If anyone happens to have any questions, feel free to ask away. Any critique or just thoughts would also be appreciated.

Now will I use this style for potential commissions in the future? I don't know, I feel like I should experiment more with this style and my art in general to see what I want/can sell.

[savannah-5555]

“Falling Fast”

written for @call-me-the-cassie for the holidays! Jily fluff for the prompt, “Person A waiting at person B's bedside for them to wake up after an injury/accident/illness”. I’m such a dork and forgot my FFnet password, but will post there later!

~5k words, rated T for kissing

Happy holidays! xx

The energy of the Gryffindor common room was abuzz with a jittering excitement with anticipation for tomorrow’s semi-final match against Hufflepuff for a chance to play for the Quidditch cup. Lily and Mary had sprawled out in front of a roaring fire-place to create a large banner. Mary, the artist, was meticulously outlining the head of a large lion that was going to bare its teeth while roaring.

“It’s too cute,” Dorcas told them from the couch, “It needs to be more ferocious.”

“You could help you know,” Mary said crossly, waving her want to undo her last few brush strokes, beginning again.

“I’m supervising,” Dorcas lounged back on the couch, interlacing her fingers behind her head, “You’re the artist, I’m a creative director.”

Lily rolled her eyes as she began to fill in the big bold script, GO GRYFFINDOR! She rolled up the sleeves of her maroon jumper, sitting back on her knees to observe her script. “This is about where my artistic abilities stop.”

“What about this?” Mary’s head turned back to Dorcas who gave an approving nod before saying, “What are your thoughts about having a badger in between its teeth…?”

“Absolutely not,” Mary laughed, “McGonagall would kill us.”

“Yeah, but she would laugh first,” Lily giggled, scrunching her nose, “Do you think Marlene is still at practice? They’ve been down there a while.”

“Say what you mean,” Mary nudged Lily who had to reach out a hand to prevent herself from toppling over, “We know you haven’t been checking the portrait-way every five minutes because you want to know where Marlene is.”

Lily flushed deeply scarlet, “It’s getting late!”

“Probably because a certain quidditch captain that you happen to be snogging is probably running them into the ground with last minute strategy drills,” Dorcas wiggled her eyebrows in Lily’s direction. Lily took the opportunity to resume her work on the banner, adding swirling banners to outline their banner.

“I’ll have you know, he happens to be a fantastic snogger,” Lily did not look up at her friends who were making kissing noises behind her back.

“I’d hope so with the amount of time you two have been sneaking around,” Dorcas chided.

“We have not been sneaking-”

“Dee, if you’re going to be running your mouth, you have to help,” Mary directed Dorcas to the paint brushes, “You can start filling this guy in.”

Dorcas slunk off the couch, heaping the burnt yellow paint onto her brush as she started filling in a textured pattern into his mane. The fire crackled cheerily next to the trio as they filled in their lion.

“Hey Evans!” Sirius Black strolled down the staircase from the boys dormitory, pocketing a small mirror into his pajama pants pocket. Sirius’ black hair was pulled back into a half ponytail, some straggling strands framing his face. A red shirt was draped over one of his shoulders. He sauntered over to them, “Nice work ladies,” he nodded appreciatively towards their banner.

“Can I help you Black?” Lily lifted her eyes to acknowledge Sirius for a brief moment before returning to her work.

“Just wanted to let you know your mans is done driving our team into the ground and will be up in a few,” Sirius extended a slippered foot to tap her shoulder for full attention.

“If he’s anyone’s man, he’s yours,” Lily gave Sirius her most saccharine smile before pushing his foot away.”

Sirius deftly re-gained his footing, “If you say so… nice jumper by the way. Is it new?”

Lily looked down to the cream color knit she was wearing, three-times her size and did not bother to dignify Sirius' comment with an answer. Clearly proud of himself for flustering Lily, Sirius opened his mouth to continue to prod at her.

“Same rules for you, Black,” Mary cut him off, “If you’re gonna run your mouth you have to help.”

“I’m done, I’m done,” Sirius held his hands up, backing away until the back of his knees contacted the couch and he lounged back.

“So matching jerseys tomorrow?” Dorcas asked her friends, “Me and Mare have Marlene’s extras and you’re wearing Potter’s, yeah?” she directed to Lily.

Lily was so taken aback that she failed to miss the side-grin Dorcas threw to Sirius.

“Oh, erm, well, no I thought I was going to wear Marlene’s with you two? For solidarity?” Wearing a boy’s jersey seemed awfully couple-y and though Lily had assumed she and James were exclusive, they had yet to clearly define their relationship. They were definitely dating, she mused internally. Technically their first date to Hogsmeades since they moved past “only friends” was a group hang-out, but then her girlfriends had decided to go dress shopping while they were enroute to Honeydukes. Shortly afterwards, Remus told them he reported he had developed a stomach ache and Sirius offered to walk with him back to the castle. Peter had detention and had not been able to join them.

This had left her and James to spend their afternoon alone together. As they walked out of Honeydukes to head to a late lunch at the Three Broomsticks, James had said, “Evans, you dropped this.” Lily turned to him, hand extended when he interlaced his fingers with hers. “Real smooth,” she laughed but did not let go. By the end of their date she had kissed him. And by the end of the evening, he had kissed her several more times.

“Nah they only get three each,” Sirius told her, “But you know… that would leave James with two extras. So lucky for you….” his eyebrows wiggled as he pulled the garment off his shoulder and threw it at Lily so it covered her face, “Ta-daaaaa!” He proceeded to fully recline into the couch, arms interlaced behind his head.

Lily pulled the offending article of clothing off her face to fully look at it, right as the Gryffindor quidditch team trudged through the portrait hole.

“Alright team, hit the showers and get to bed,” James instructed as he ushered them through into the common room.

“Alright DAD,” Marlene rolled her eyes, “We’re going we’re going.” She strode in the direction of her friends in front of the fire, “Whatcha got there, Lil?”

“--oh erm, it’s nothing–,” Lily quickly lowered the scarlet jersey with thick gold stitching reading “POTTER” across the chest.

“Don’t worry, Prongs” Sirius called out, his eyes shut, a playful smirk on his face, “I did it so you don’t have to get your knickers in a twist all night debating the issue.”

“What’re you going off–” James walked over, stopping behind Sirius, his eyes moving towards Lily and then to the object in her hands.

“Sorry I didn’t–”

“--Oh you don’t have to wear–”

“He just threw it–”

“--it’s fine–”

“--I don’t have to wear–”

Lily focused her attention to James’ left ear, unable to fully look him in the face. He had not asked her to wear his jersey, and clearly he had not asked Sirius to give it to her. Maybe this was too much too soon for them. Her heart sank in her chest at the thought that he might not want her to wear it.

“Perfect!” Mary’s voice interjected over their embarrassed stammers, “Now we all have jerseys for tomorrow. Thanks for lending it, James.” She said it with a finality that James knew better than to backtrack.

“Thanks for lending it, Sirius,” Sirius corrected her, “No one credits me with anything around here.”

“Thank you very much, Sirius,” James’ tone was clipped though his smile stayed easy-going. Sirius yelped as James clapped him on the shoulder a little too hard.

“Don’t you have to shower and go to bed now?” Sirius asked him, “Would be a bit hypocritical for you to stay up and hang out after ordering the rest of the team around, yeah?”

James ignored Sirius, “G’night everyone. Banner looks awesome by the way.” He waved at everyone and threw Lily a wink before heading for the boys’ dormitory.

Lily scurried up from her knees to follow-him, heart hammering against her chest with embarrassment from her friends’ antics.

“James-wait up!” She caught him on the fourth step up.

“Hey,” James’ face lit up when he turned to see her come after him.

“What? No goodnight kiss? Afraid I might jinx you?” she teased him, gently pushing one of his shoulders.

“Nah, if anything you’re my good luck charm,” James took a step down to bring their faces closer together. His hand found her waist as he pulled her towards him and pressed his lips against hers. His lips warm and inviting against hers and she felt herself smile into him.

“Sorry about Sirius,” James pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, “He can be a prat when he wants to be.”

“I don’t have to–”

“--I wanted to ask you–”

They both stopped mid-sentence again. Lily bit her lip and looked down to the jersey in her hands.

“Can I wear this tomorrow?” Lily tried again, looking up to meet James’ eyes.

“I would love it if you wore my jersey, Evans,” James kissed her again.

“Great,” her butterflies subsided substantially.

“Great,” he repeated, kissing her hairline, his hand squeezing her hip, “I hate to do this, but I do have to head up, you know. ‘Lead by example’ and whatnot.”

“Of course,” Lily reached her arms to encircle his neck and hug him close, “G’night, James.”

“Night, Lil.”  Lily watched as his form disappeared around the spiral staircase. Thank Merline for quidditch pants, she thought as she rejoined her friends.

***********

“March definitely went out like a lion,” Lily yelled over the roar of wind combined with the whoops of the Gryffindor student section. Her hair was whipping across her face, as she jumped up and down supporting the top right corner of their sign. She felt exceptionally thankful that she and Remus had perfected their warming charms back in January. Lily, Mary, and Dorcas would have never been able to ditch their robes and display Marlene and James’ quidditch jerseys without it. Fan behavior, Sirius had joked when they all headed out to the pitch together. That’s the whole point, Black, Mary had pointed out.

“Should be good for us then, eh!” Sirius shouted back to her from his corner of the banner, tapping his wand to their homemade tapestry eliciting a ROARRRR from Mary’s lion. Dorcas jumped, clutching her chest “Oy! Give a girl a warning will you?”

“Interesting strategy for Gryffindor, it appears their seeker is having a trailing chaser this match,” Blake Jordan’s unbothered tenor boomed across the pitch, “Haven’t seen this before, but I’m sure the Gryffindor captain has a method to the madness.”

“You know Lee, it does make a lot of sense to me actually,” Eddie Bones, chimed in on the loudspeaker, “You see, Gryffindor’s offense and Hufflepuff’s defense are very evenly matched. Hufflepuff’s strategy is to distract the young Gryffindor seeker, only his first year on the roster after being pulled up from the developing squad to the main line-up.”

“What do they mean?” Lily called out to her friend group, watching as James flew up to relieve Marlene from her post, two broomstick’s lengths lagging behind Jack Robbins, the Gryffindor seeker. James appeared to yell some words of encouragement to Jack who’s flight pattern became more determined as his shoulders squared and picked up his speed.

“Those bastard badgers have been pelting bludgers at Robbins all game,” Dorcas turned her head towards Lily, cupping her hands so that her voice would carry, “James is sacrificing a chaser to make sure that he doesn’t get hit.”

“So he can focus on finding the snitch without worrying so much about where the bludgers are coming from,” Sirius added. “Robbins took a pretty big hit last year on the practice squad and hasn’t been able to fully shake it off.”

“How did he make it on the team then?” Lily’s brow furrowed as her eyes tracked James and Jack across the quidditch pitch.

“Prongs says he has the best broomstick control out of anyone in the school.”

As if on cue, Lily made out a brief shouted command from James and Jack pulled his broomstick up to a vertical 90 degree angle narrowly avoiding collision with a bludger. The Gryffindor student section let out a collective exhale of relief.

“Marlene thinks if Robbins can get his confidence up, he’d rival Evan Rosier,” Dorcas made a face mentioning the seventh year Slytherin seeker, “Evan may be a prick, but he is objectively the best seeker out of all four houses.”

“10 points to Gryffindor!” Eddie called out to the crowd, “Gryffindor now leads 60-50.”

“Both teams are evenly matched, it will likely come down to who can find the snitch.”

Doesn’t it always? Lily thought to herself. Who made up this scoring system anyway? It truly did not make any sense to her, no matter how many times Marlene or James tried to explain it.

“More like it will come down to whether or not Hufflepuff is able to knock Jackie Boy off his broom,” Bones said, sounding almost excited, “No professor, obviously I don’t want that. I am an unbiased consummate professional.”

“Bones you pompous bastard!” Sirius cursed the announcer, his voice lost in the wind.

The chasers on both sides were beginning to pick up. While down one player, the Gryffindor chasers battled ferociously with Hufflepuff’s three. Both teams vied for the lead, neither advancing more than a score or two ahead of the other.

“ROBBINS HAS SPOTTED THE SNITCH!” Blake yelled, “Robbins has spotted the snitch and Wiseman is caught with his pants down at the opposite side of the pitch.”

Jack easily had half a pitch or more advance on the Hufflepuff seeker as he raced towards the small flitting ball, arm extended. James maintained half a broomstick length between himself and Jack, closely monitoring the snitch’s patterns and Jack’s own. He was anticipating both of their movements, in an effort to prevent himself from impeding the seeker’s path.

Out of nowhere, a bludger cut off James’ path, only just missing the tail end of Jack’s broom. Lily could practically hear James’ curse as he was forced to drop back three broom lengths from Jack.

“Come on boys! You’ll have to aim better than that!” Eddie yelled, “I mean- sorry professor it was instinctual- Hufflepuff’s beater’s are the last line of defense if they want to advance to the quidditch final.”

Jack turned into a pencil dive following the snitch as it made a beeline for the ground. Two-hundred feet. One-hundred. Fifty. If anything, Jack was only accelerating in his downward trajectory.

“WATCH OUT!”

“NOOO!”

“JACK!!”

In vain, the Gryffindor student section attempted to warn their seeker from the impending collision of a second bludger screaming towards Jack from an angle that was most definitely a blind spot for the fourth year.

As if in a sickening slow motion, the bludger hurtled towards Jack, completely unaware, hand outstretched his fingers barely grazing the snitch.

There was a sickening crunch as the bludger made contact-- with the Gryffindor captain. James had launched himself off of his broom, fully laid out, his abdomen absorbing the brunt of bludger’s impact. The momentum knocked him into the back of Jack’s broom sending the seeker’s broom into a tailspin, only moments after Jack had secured the snitch in his hand- confirmed by Madam Hooch’s whistle signifying a Gryffindor victory.

Lily screamed, horrified as James’ body flew ten feet in through the air, before thudding to the ground. “Evans!” Sirius was suddenly in front of her, hands firmly gripping her shoulders together, “He’s going to be fine, Evans!”

No, he was most certainly not going to be fine. He was most certainly going to have several broken ribs, and Merlin, after that fall maybe even a broken neck. Lily couldn’t focus, she could see Sirius' face in front of hers, his mouth moving, she could hear him yelling something but was unable to comprehend a thing he was saying.

“Lily, it’s ok Lily!” Mary joined Sirius, trying to reassure their friend. Time was moving in slow motion. She felt her friends shaking her by the shoulders, trying to snap her out of shock.

“He’s- he’s-,” Lily stammered, James’ fall on replay in her mind.

“He’s going to be fine,” Sirius spoke slowly.

“How can you say that?” Lily demanded, she shoved herself out of Sirius grasp and made her way to the front of the stands. Madam Pomfery had already moved James’ body onto a magicked stretcher that was zooming towards the hospital wing.

“Evans, it’s quidditch, this sort of thing happens.” Sirius clapped her on the back, “But it is touching how much you are concerned for ole Prongsie.”

“Of course I’m concerned, you prat!” Lily rounded on him, “Why did he do that?”

“The guy is a competitive animal coupled with a hero complex,” Sirius told her, “And he made the right call for his team! We won!” Sirius gestured his hands towards the pitch, where the rest of their house was storming the field, as if to add, “And we should be down there celebrating!

“I know you’re probably thinking of muggle sport injuries,” Remus joined them behind Sirius, “But James will probably join the Gryffindor party in an hour, two at the most. This type of thing is the least of Poppy’s worries.”

“Why isn’t anyone else more worried?” Lily demanded. The winds had picked up and she found herself shouting to be heard. Her red hair whipped across her face frantically, her hands scrambling to push it out of her eyes. Lily felt as if her heart was trying to escape her ribcage and felt the thundering vibrations of her heartbeat in her ears. The sound made her nauseous, it was like a sick re-imaging of James colliding with the ground over and over and over. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

She was losing the visual of James’ stretcher as it smoothly glided up the rolling hills towards the castle. Her mind was relaying between the horrific memory of James’ injury and catastrophizing what might happen to him next.

“Of course we’re worried!” Sirius exasperatedly balled in hands, an attempt on maintaining his composure. “But you are freaking out and if I show any real panic, you will freak out more and if you die of a panic attack, Prongs is gonna kill me.”

It would not be until later that evening when the full gravity of Sirius' statement hit Lily. Lily’s eyes were fixed on the stretcher as it passed through the castle’s archway and James was fully out of sight.

“Lil, do you want to go check on him?” Mary had joined them at the rails of the stands, “I’ll go with you.”

“Please Evans, go check on your boyfriend and then get ready for the world’s biggest I told you so at our after party.” Sirius winked on her, unsuccessfully dodging the swat Lily amed at his shoulder.

***********

Go check on your boyfriend. Sirius’ words replayed over and over in Lily’s head as she followed Mary towards the hospital wing. The biting chill of the wind was not missed as they entered the castle. Her boyfriend. She supposed that it was fair to say that James was her boyfriend. They had been exclusively dating for over a month now, but neither of them had used the “b” or “g” word yet.

“For Mr. Potter?” Madam Pomfery asked as the two girls dressed in Gryffindor pride entered the hospital wing. When they nodded, she pointed towards a bed in the corner, with the curtain drawn, “It looks worse than the extent of the injuries.” Madam Pomfery led them towards James’ bed, “He suffered several broken ribs, a broken shoulder, sprained neck injury and some moderate internal bleeding. I assure you he and Mr. Black have sustained worse injuries doing who knows what. All the same he is currently mending and I expect him to re-awaken in the next,” she looked down at her watch, “Eight minutes.”

Madam Pomfery slid the curtain open, “For Merlin’s sake.”

Lily’s eyes did a quick sweep of James’ shirtless torso on the bed. She watched in amazement as some yellowed bruises slowly faded away, a sign that the healing tonics he had taken were in full effect.

“Somehow the boy always manages to take his shirt off,” Madam Pomfery shook her head, leaving Lily and Mary at the bedside. Given the severity of his injuries, less than thirty minutes ago, James looked like he could have been taking a Saturday afternoon cat-nap.

“Why don’t I give you two some alone time,” Mary gently squeezed Lily’s hand, backing away from James’ hospital station.

“Oh no you don’t have to -” Lily started.

“Everything’s gonna be fine Lil. And I’m not really keen to watch your reunion snog, no offense,” she winked. Lily laughed weakly, hugging her friend, “Thanks for coming here with me.”

“See you back in the common room?” Mary began to pull the curtain closed as she left.

“Yes for sure,” Lily told her.

Cautiously, as though trying not to disturb him, she gently pulled out the stool to have a seat next to him. She eyed James' quidditch jersey on the floor from where he must’ve pulled it off while he was going under the sedating tonics. Copying Madam Pomfery, she rolled her eyes before folding and setting it atop the bedside table next to his glasses. It occurred to her that she had never actually seen James sleeping before and she blushed at the thought of them spending the night together, I wouldn’t mind falling asleep next to this.

Settling onto the stool next to his bedside, Lily reached for one his hands, holding it in hers. Her eyes traced his face, letting them travel down his body. Stop oggling an injured man, she reprimanded herself, even if he is bloody gorgeous. With her free hand, she leaned forward to sweep his bangs across his forehead. James had always enjoyed it when she played with his hair. She continued her rhythmic motions, running her fingers through his windswept curls completely unaware as James’ breathing deepened and he began to stir, eyes slowly opening.

A smile bloomed on his face when he realized who was greeting him. Lily smiled back, retrieving his glasses from the bedside table and gently setting them on his face. He captured her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, before groaning and sitting up on the bedside to face her, his knees knocking against hers.

“Nice jersey,” Lily blushed under James’ gaze, as he surveyed her before him in his jersey, “You look good wearing my name.”

“Hi,” Lily breathed, placing both her hands on his knees she leaned forward to press a kiss to his mouth.

“Hi,” James repeated, Lily felt his smile beneath her lips.

“You really know how to drive a girl wild, Potter,” she told him.

“It was a fairly glorious wipeout,” James grinned up at her, leaning back on his hands, arms extended. The bed springs faintly groaned with his weight shift.  “Not entirely pleasant, but I do what I can for my team.”

“Gloriously horrible,” Lily corrected, “I thought- I was worried that you were going to be terribly injured.”

“Look at me, good as new,” James laughed, flexing his pectoral muscles at her.

“Merlin, you’re annoying,” Only slightly amused at his arrogance, Lily pushed at his shoulder, tipping him slightly off balance. James gasped, doubling over, clutching where she had touched him. Her eyes widened in horror as she gasped, hands clasped over her nose and mouth, “James! I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I forgot- you’re healing.”

James peaked one eye open to look at her, “Only kidding Lils,” he grinned, righting himself again, “But I gotcha pretty good huh?”

“Potter!” She whisper-hissed at him, mindly that Madam Pomfery was probably within ear shot if their voices were raised, “You’re such a- a-a-”

Lily was taken aback as James lunged forward, tugging her into arms so she was sitting across his lap. She struggled not to laugh as he engulfed her into a bear hug, his right arm reaching around her trunk to hold her head holding it in place as he pressed loud, smacking kisses to her cheek.

“I’m such a what?” he goaded her, “You might as well stop attempting to escape,” he squeezed her tighter against him and it was only her pride that prevented her from snuggling into him, “It’s not like I’m ever letting you go,” he chuckled as she huffed in mild annoyance.

“I was so worried about you! And Sirius suggested that I come check on my boyfriend, and you have the audacity to-”

James swiftly inhaled, “What did you just say?”

“I said, I’m sorry that I was so worried about-”

“No, after that… your boyfriend?”

“Yes, his name is James Potter, about 6’3, great snogger, annoying git when he wants to be. Have you heard of him?” Lily smirked as turned her head ninety degrees so that she was facing him. James was holding his face in a carefully constructed neutral position, any hint of duress hidden except for the shift in his cheek muscle as his jaw tensed.

“I’ve never called myself your boyfriend. And I haven’t said that to Sirius either. Just so you know.” James’ tone was even and measured. And Lily believed him when he said he never mentioned it to Sirius before. Of course he hadn’t, they had never even broached the subject. Oh. Oh. OH. Still encased in his arms and unable to retreat, Lily swung her neck 180 degrees to face as far away from James Potter as she possibly could. She swore internally as she felt the embarrassed flush creep up her neck. She had made a gross miscalculation.

No. She hadn’t. But… maybe… she was in the hospital wing, wearing his jersey that he gave her…no. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut. He had not offered it to her, Mary and Sirius practically backed him into a corner without giving him the option to say no. He was only being polite. Wearing his jersey would be a total girlfriend move. Whatever she thought they were… apparently they were not that.

“Oh,” Lily started thickly, “I just thought… you know…I thought you were.” She made a move to off his lap, to put some distance between them, but James was having none of that.

He groaned, “Merlin, Evans, I just don’t want to be moving too fast for you. We’ve only been dating for a few weeks-”

“A month and a half.”

“Ok, a month and a half,” James corrected himself, “And I- I really like you even though we’re not even fully official- wait- come back, Evans, come back.”

Lily had continued to try and make a break for her. She kept her face turned away to, trying to hide her shocked and wounded expression.

“What did I say now?” James pulled her back fully into him, her back to his front, his arms encircling her waist, “Sometimes I feel like I’m always putting my foot in my mouth around you.”

“It’s nothing- I-I- ,it’s nothing-”

“Tell me,” James pressed his lips to her cheek, he was warm and her skin was set ablaze where he made contact.

“It’s silly,” Lily worked to keep her voice light, stomach in knots. She forced her face into a more neutral expression, still unable to fully look back at him.

“I’m sure it’s not,” James' lips continued down her neck, “Gods I’m so into you,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

Lily swallowed thickly, squeezing her eyes tightly shut trying to will herself to tell him the truth,“I just thought that...I thought that we- I mean, I thought that- that I was already your girlfriend.”

She heard his swift inhale as James’ arms stiffened around her, and his mouth left her neck. “What?” his voice suddenly low, serious.

Her traitorous body betrayed her emotion, as the flush crept up her neck. Lily kept her face turned away, opening her eyes, and feeling extremely lucky that there was no other student in the hospital wing. Of course he was hesitant when she had asked him if she could wear his jersey last night. It was very much couple behaviour, and they clearly were not a-

“Lily,” she felt James hand gently press on her cheek, attempting to turn her face towards his, “Come on, please look at me.”

“No,” She could get through this. She would get through this. Not Lily “I’d rather date the giant squid than you” Evans actually feeling crushed that James Potter was rejecting-

“C’mon Lil,” he pleaded. She should face this quickly. Get this over with, a quick and painless severance. Gods, why had she so pressed him to wear his stupid jersey. This was poetic justice. After the fifth year incident, she was going to be turned down while donning his last name across her shoulder. Alright, here goes nothing, RIP me, she thought, turning to look at James and his stupid handsome face, and his stupid beautiful eyes, and stupid kissable lips, and stupid hot body.

“You thought I was your boyfriend?” James asked her incredulously, his hazel eyes flicking quickly across her face.

“Yeah,” Lily answered dumbly, eyes fixed on the wall just to the right of his head, unable to look him fully in the face, “I haven’t done this before, I thought-” James clasped a hand over mouth effectively cutting her off.

“You, Lily Evans, want to be the girlfriend of me, James Potter?” he re-stated slowly, as if he could not believe the words coming from his mouth and moving his face directly in front of her so she had to meet his gaze.

Who gets rejected donning someone else’s last name, honestly? The irony was remarkable.

Just kill me now, Lily thought, she reached up to pull his hand away, “Yes Pott-”

And then his mouth was on hers, a hand pressed firmly to the back of her head holding her close to him. She moved her lips with his, forgetting why she had been so cross just a moment before, angling her body to face him. Her hands grasped his shoulders, holding James to her, his other hand snaking around her waist.

James pulled away first, his smile giddy, “You’re my girlfriend,” he pressed another kiss to her cheek, working his way to her jawline. “And I’m your boyfriend.” His kisses moved towards her chin before returning to her lips once again, “and you’re my girlfriend.” James repeated for emphasis.

“But what about-”

James groaned again, pulling Lily fully into his arms in a crushing hug and she inhaled deeply into his chest, a heady combination of pheromones, amber, and wood.

“Evans, I’ve wanted to be your boyfriend since you suggested we study for Ancient Runes together… hang on...did you do that because we are the only two of our friends who take that class? Was that your way of coming on to me?

“I was worried about being too obvious,” she smiled into his chest, “guess not, huh?”

“Definitely not,” James snorted, “And here I was trying not to shite my pants at the thought of– Did you know that I had been debating on asking you to wear my jersey for literal days, maybe weeks–”

“Why didn’t you?” Lily pulled back, her face bemused.

“I wasn’t sure if you would want to or not,” he grinned sheepishly.

Lily threw her head back, laughter tinkling, “My god we’re idiots, aren’t we?”

“Definitely,” James agreed, chuckling as well.

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

Shortly afterwards, when they emerged to join the victory party, they were greeted with the loudest, “I TOLD YOU SO.”

[all-might-can-smash-me]

Alive

Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fatgum x Royal! Reader

Summary: medieval/fantasy type of au. A princess sneaks out from the cold stone walls of the castle and finds her way into the colorful life of the village’s market square, though she finds herself striking a friendship with the blacksmith and soon finding herself completely in love with....you know, the fluffy shit because I live for that

Part 2 is here

Masterlist

You longed for the world beyond the stained glass window that you peered through. You wanted to see the bustling markplace that your servants would always talk about. You wanted to tag along with your own group of friends to see what fresh produce was available or what trinkets were on display from far off lands. You wanted to hear the hammering of the blacksmith away in his corner or listen to the weaver’s old stories from her life time as she skillfully did her craft while showing off her prized work at her stand. Or to even smell the foods that were being cooked and sold to the hungry wonderer who found themselves sucked into the busy scurrying of the market. You could already smell everything that seemed to play out before your fingers tips that brushed the color glass before you....

“Your royal highness....” soon spoke out the soft voice of one the women who stood off to the side as you soaked in the warmth of the bath water you sat in, relishing in the floral oils that had placed into the heated water of your bath. You almost felt a bit of anger claw at your chest as you watched your daydream melt before your fingertips at the young woman’s voice, but you only sighed it away before looking over your shoulder and at her. “I think it’s time for you to climb out, you’ll prune up if you stay in any longer.” The woman recommend, which you only gave a soft nod of your head as you stood up, the water sloshing around your legs as you stepped out, a cloth already wiping down your body and your hair. You only silently stood their as the women dried your off and soon clothed you in your chemise and kirtle.

It was the same routine every day either with the bath or not. You automatically seated yourself down before a vanity, the servants already brushing out your hair and pining it up in braids, soon a veil was placed over your hair to cover it, securing it into place with even more pens, but what was the use of that? The outside would never even see your hair anyway.

“Is that alright, your royal highness?” Soon asked one of the many women tending to you. You only gave a soft nod of your head as you poked your feet out to have your stocking slipped on and a garter tied below to keep them up, shoes soon placed upon your feet. They would continue to ask you if everything was to your liking, but what was the point anyway? To look good to only be trapped behind the stone walls that was your prison. Though you bid them a soft thank you as you finally broke free from their hands, escaping and finally finding your freedom within one of the many vast hallways of the castle you dwelled in. You could probably point every crack and uneven stone within the entire castle though by how many times your eyes have stared them down.

“Oh....don’t look at me like that!” You spoke out with a huff as you glared down to one of the tapestries that hung from the wall. Your eyes stared down into the threaded ones of the scene filled with people before you adorned with fanciful clothing....the scene that your eyes have wondered onto many time before. Though you only groaned as you let your hand slap that tapestry, only causing it to ripple a bit from where it hung along with shaking out a bit of dust that only made you try to quickly fan it away from your face. “I’m going mad within these walls! I’ve resorted to arguing with a foul looking tapestry!” You exclaimed, though stuck your tongue out to the tapestry before scurrying off down the corridor, veil billowing around your face as you rushed by. Soon your hands grasped the handle of a door to open it roughly, promptly slamming it shut behind you. With a sigh you let yourself slump down on the chair at your desk, a pout upon your lips as your eyes longing look to the large window within your room longingly. The market was just there, almost within your grasp beyond the castle gate.

That’s when an idea popped within your head. The blossoming of that idea lifted you from your chair, hands scurrying around within your wardrobe to tug out a cloak which you wasted no time to drape over your shoulders and tie it in place, now back to scurrying down the corridors of the castle and down many spiraled stone steps.

“I’ll just go on my own.....if I get caught I’ll just use the excuse that I didn’t know that it was off limits....yeah....” You muttered to yourself as you tried to calm your heart that raced within your chest, hand running along the stone walls and tapestries to try and stable the nervous jitters within your body. “I’ll also just sneak out through the back towards the laundry house...” you continued on with discussing your plan to yourself. Though it was scarily all too easy to do as you found yourself slowly crossing the border between the castle’s property and into the commoner’s world. It wasn’t at all exciting really, but it was for you as your feet had began to run down the dirt path that ran towards the market place, laughter bubbling out from your mouth at the feeling of your own rebellion as you gathered up the bottom of your kirtle to run as fast as you could even if your lungs screamed at you to stop.

You stopped to catch your breath, your laughter seeming to still plague your lungs as you leaned against one of the trees that lined the path, calming your laughter as a carriage bounced along the path before you, disappearing further down the path. Just experiencing that alone sent your brain on a frenzy as you continued your walk, though you still couldn’t help but feel that worry edge into your brain to bury itself there.

The market was better than you would have ever expected. A lyre was being strummed by a young man for coins, sellers yelled out their deals for their trinkets and goods, and many people filled the air with their voices and laughter, all the noises filling your sense as your eyes looked excitedly to everything that you had every dreamed of. It may have been a silly wish to see the sight before you and risk so much to see it, but I guess it’s easy to yearn for something this great when you couldn’t have it.

You had began to walk slowly through the many stalls set up, eyes wondering the many objects that were expertly display to capture any wondering fool’s eye, but you simply treaded on, wanting to see everything that market had to offer. Though you soon found yourself traveling into the less populated part of the market, the side where only a few tiny stands were set up and store fronts were waiting for anyone to enter. It was a nice rest from the constant life of the more populated area. Though something caught your attention. It was a slamming noise, loud and strong and it repeated itself over and over again. Carefully listening, you followed the noise down the cobblestone path, finding yourself standing before the wide opened doors of what you would guess was a forge.

The warmth within the forge lapped at your face as you peered in, the clanging now more prominent and practically rang through your ears. Before you, you saw a man, a tall man. Sweat glistened across his brow and his blonde hair clung to his forehead in a few spots, his eyebrows were furrowed together. Your eyes couldn’t help but trail down to the muscles that would flex and retract in the rhythm of the hammer in his hand that he would slam down upon the red hot metal upon his anvil. The man set aside the hammer before lifting the metal he was working on to toss it back within the flames that happily lapped at it, a few curses being muttered under his breath as he brought the back of his gloved hand to his forehead to wipe away the sweat that threatened to roll into his eyes.

“Hey you, you don’t have to hide back there you know.” His voice soon rose up, a smile crawling onto his lips as he turned away from fire, gaze now upon you. You on the other hand, could feel a raging blush upon your face as you looked over your shoulder before realizing that he mean those words for you. You slowly made your way within the forge, eyes trailing among the many tools that were scattered about, the smell of burning wood now filling your senses as you finally looked to him. “Use to I would get a lot of people in here to watch....but the hagglers further up the market are far more entertaining.” He said with a laugh as began to poke the raging fires. You took it upon yourself to look at some of his own works that he had up on display. Horseshoes, armor, weapons, even torture devices, but of course that was normal....but still it sent a shiver down your spine at the thought of you being in that. Though your eyes soon landed upon the many pendants that he had forged as well, necklaces, bracelets, pins. You let your finger trace the twist of the metal before you.

“A trade being done with expertise and care is far more entertaining than a few scammers.” You mumbled out as you soon looked over your shoulder and to the other. “Do you honestly think that their pots hold ‘magical abilities’?” You said with a little laugh as you stepped away from the work before you, soon crossing your arms and stepping back forward to his work area, watching him let out his laughter at your words as he brought out the rod of metal from the fire, hammer back in his hands.

“Or that their onions will honestly reverse one’s aging?” He said with a snort as the hammer went slamming down onto the metal. You couldn’t be flinch at the loud noise, but you watched with interest. It amazed you how the man before you could simply meld the iron into almost whatever he wanted with the strength he possessed and the hammer within his hands. “You must be new around here though...” he soon spoke out though after resting the hammer aside again, inspecting the rod of metal.

“Why you say that?” You asked, trying to surpress the nervousness that wanted to attack your voice and throat. You couldn’t have been caught that quickly, right? Did people within the market really know what you looked like? Of course not....right?

“Because I haven’t seen a beautiful girl like you around here before, I would have remembered....” He said with a grin as he dunked the rod into a trough of water, the metal sizzling against the cool liquid. If only you could have dunked your head in there as well to cool the blush that had risen to your cheeks.

That’s how your friendship had begun with the blacksmith. The next day you would find out his name was Taishiro and then the next day you would meet his apprentice Tamaki, and then the next day you’d bring him food. It went on for a while, of your bringing food for him and his apprentice, chatting away with him....feeling your heart constantly thrashing against your chest at just a mere glance of Taishiro. Though one day, you approaching the forge, only to see Taishiro dressed properly and out of the protective garb he wore within his forge.

“Come on, I want to spend a day away from this damned inferno.” He spoke out with a grin, already offering his arm to you to lead you through the village, into the part where the homes became sparse and the meadows and hills seemed to stretch on infinitely. It all looked like a painting that would have been among the others within the castle you dwelled in or maybe even a scene from one of the blasted tapestries. It sent a grin upon your face as you handed him the basket filled to the brim with food, hands clutching at your kirtle to ran through the semi tall grass, wind whipping at the veil pinned onto your head. You felt foolish to think simply walking through the market square or running down the dirt path from the castle felt like freedom. Running through the grass and taking in its scent that was carried upon the breeze is what truly felt like freedom. It felt even better though when you heard Taishiro’s own feet crunch upon the grass, laughing behind you as the two of you ran further out until you finally let yourself plop down onto the grass, lungs struggling for air through your laughter as you let your body rest upon the grass, eyes staring up to the blue sky that was riddled with clouds. Taishiro was soon sprawled out beside you upon the grass, basket set aside beside him, his laughter molding with yours as he also looked up to the sky. Finally managing to get air in your lungs, you sat up and reached over Taishiro, grabbing hold of the basket to tug out a canteen of water, setting it aside and soon pulling out bread, breaking it and handing a half to Taishiro before setting the basket asids and rest back down again.

“I’ve never felt so....free...” you finally mumbled out, finger tips twisting off bits of bread to eat, Taishiro already almost done with what he had. You found it amusing, how he seemed to inhale his food. Though everything about him you seemed to find amusing or attractive, that’s why your heart always felt like it was going to explode upon one single glance at him. You would steal glances at him, but right now you let your eyes close, enjoying the warmth of the sun shining down upon and enjoying the soft tickle of the breeze upon your cheeks

“It’s relaxing....to not be burned by metal or fire or having the smell of burning wood down my throat all day long...” he muttered out as he reached a hand over you to grab ahold of the canteen of water, already taking a few gulps before placing it away, a sigh of content escaping his lungs. Though glancing at you almost made him forget how to breathe. You looked angelic beside him, eyes closed and the sun eccentuating the soft features of your face and the veil that almost surrounded your face didn’t help either.

You were glorious before him.

Taishiro soon propped himself up with his arm, a hand moving to gently brush upon your cheek bone which your eyes shot open at the touch. It was like the world stopped when your eyes met his. They were wide, along with your own, but not of fear, but of the nervousness of the new territory that seemed to appear as the seconds went by. Slowly sitting up, he allowed his hands to move to the veil that was pinned upon your head, fingertips plucking away those pins slowly and setting them aside within the basket. You now sat up yourself, letting his nervous hands gently remove the white cloth, your hands reaching up to undo the braids pinned to your head, brushing your fingers through them and letting your long hair fall around your shoulders. Taishiro soon let his own fingers brush through your long hair and brush along your neck, and face. You were a sight to behold as the wind pushed your hair around gently.

“May I kiss you...?” Were the words that came flowing from his mouth as his hand finally came to rest upon your blushing cheeks. “Sorry, I just....I’m stunned by the beauty that’s before me...” he said with a soft, nervous laugh that you couldn’t help but giggle along to nervously as well as you nodded your head, forehead pressed against his. Your eyes were soon closed upon the arrival of his soft lips upon yours, leaning into his embrace as the two of you shared a soft kiss.

You felt your back meet with the grass upon the ground as his lips continued to move upon yours, your body plagued with nervous jitters as he was soon trailing his sweet kisses upon the many parts of your face and neck. Yours hands went to cup his face as he pulled away to look down at you, a large smile upon his lips as he caught his breath, looming over you. Though suddenly you felt tears begin to build up within your eyes as you let a hand run through the soft strands of blonde hair, a worrisome look now etched into his face as once of his callused hands moved to caress your face.

“What’s wrong? Why the tears?” He asked, finger tips gently pushing back the soft strands of your hair that the wind had pushed upon your face.

“I’ve never felt so alive....though I’m afraid it might cruelly end like waking up in the middle of a wonderful dream.....”

[xbunnybunz]

Daybreak (4/?) [Wolf Keum x Reader x Alex Go)

Summary: The day brings to you Alex Go, and in the night, Wolf Keum. Your past is inescapable. They build you up and tear you back down, but this is what you need to survive.

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama —–

When you pick up the call, Alex is talking to someone else in the background.

The flame of excitement you feel flickers, and for a second you deflate. You stop your stride down the street, shadow falling long from your feet and quivering in the glow of the moon.

Did he dial you by accident?

You hear his voice, but it sounds distant. “—Shut up Ben, I know what I’m doing!”

Another voice you don’t recognize cuts in, sounding like he was holding in laughter.

“Man, Gogo, I think you pressed the call button already.”

“What? Oh shit, you—”

There’s distant, hushed arguing, then loud rustling. Suddenly, Alex Go’s voice is right by your ear, breathy, sounding as sheepish and awkward as ever.

“Oh, hey there! What’s up?”

You feel your lips turn up again, the burning in your chest and cheeks slowly returning. You press a hand to your mouth to stop yourself from laughing.

“You tell me, Alex Go. You’re the one who called, after all.”

There’s a pause, and you can almost see his face now, eyes darting, a dumb smile, leg bobbing with a nervous jitter.

“Hah! Haha. Yep, that’s me. Me who called you.”

He pauses- a thing he does when he’s nervous, and you count, one, two, three seconds until he speaks again.  

“So, ha, what are you up to tonight?”

You think you hear someone give an exasperated sigh in the background, but it could just be a car passing by a street down.

“Not much. Pretty much the same night as all the others.”

You swing one foot in front of another, less focused on taking steps and more focused on balancing on the curb. Wonder if you always felt this way talking on the phone, wonder if it’s just Alex.

Alex hums on the other end, the sound tickling your ear.

“And what about tomorrow afternoon?”

A cartwheel flips in your stomach, and you almost loose footing on the curb. It sounds too smooth, and you bet he’s been practicing it in the mirror. It almost takes you off guard, but you keep a level head.

“What about it?”

There’s a dare in the question, and it sits boldly in the silence hanging between you and him.

He flounders, like you expect him to, but you smile regardless.

“Well I, uh,” He gives a nervous chuckle and your eyes soften. “I was wondering if you’d want to hang out tomorrow."

You give your head a tiny shake, feeling your eyelashes brushing your cheekbones. “Are you asking me on a date, Alex Go?”

He laughs gently, it’s sweet, but there’s a bit of a raw edge from nerves. “It depends how you answer.”

“And if I say yes?”

“Then I’d tell you to meet me at Eungang High School at two thirty, tomorrow.”

The fingers curled around your phone are alight with tingles and you flex your grasp on it, wiggling your toes in your shoes.

“I’ll be there.”

You catch Alex breathing a sigh of relief, attempting to dilute it with an airy chuckle. It’s cute, you think, and funny.

“That’s great- it’ll be great, I promise. I know just the place.”

“Anything’s better than another cup noodle lunch, so I’ll take your word on it.”

Alex laughs, and this time he’s not holding back. It’s real and it’s sunny, warm. It reminds you of something, but you can’t put your finger on it.

“I should’ve known you were still eating that stuff. You’re in for a treat tomorrow, I’ve heard people say their cakes are the best in Yeongduengpo.”

“Sweets, huh? I haven’t eaten out in a while.”

You turn a corner and stop at a red light, the dim scarlet glow splashes over the street, the sidewalk, colors your shoes. When was the last time you hung out with a group of friends? Hung out with anyone?

A thought pops into your mind and you turn back and look at the restaurant you came from.

“No way!” Alex’s voice sings into your ear again, just as the light turns green. “There are so many good places that opened recently, we gotta check them out!”

Your lips curl at his enthusiasm, and you turn back to cross the road. Listen to the tik tok tik tok of the countdown. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it too.”

You can almost hear him smiling through the phone when he pauses, trying to find more things to convey his excitement. But he reels himself back in.

“Well, I don’t want to take up too much of your night, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yessir, unless you get cold feet.”

Alex laughs again. “Nothing to worry about then, seeya later.”

“Goodnight, Alex Go.”

You pull the phone away from your ear and stare at the call time, crawling up second by second, until the call drops and the screen goes dim.

The next day rolls around without much nuance. Your head is pounding when you wake up, but not as much as it usually does after a night out.

Was it because you had something to look forward to today, or because you couldn’t drink with Wolf staring you down?

The question bounces around in your head for the duration of your morning classes, but fades by the time you’re pulling up directions to Eunjang High.

The school is relatively easy to find, given it was the only all-boys academies in the area. You wait outside the main gate, and chuckle at all the strange looks you’re getting, no doubt wondering what a student with your uniform was doing at Eunjang.

Eventually you catch a glimpse of black hair and a shock of green eyes in the upcoming wave of students, and wave. Alex perks up and throws up an arm in greeting as well, almost hitting a familiar, bowling-alley-carpet-eating redhead beside him.

Alex claps him a few times on the back in apology, and a taller boy with green hair taps his shoulder and points in your direction, lips moving to form a question.

Your gaze wanders and catches a purple one. The way his eyes shoot through you sends a cold shiver down your spine. His eyes pierce you, like he’s trying to remember something. Then his eyes snap up to your outstretched hand, in a wave. Unnerved, you retract your hand and pull your arms back into your body, turning and placing your back flush against the stone gate.

What the hell was that? You wonder, wringing your hands. Why was there so much space between Alex and his friends from the rest of the kids? Did they have a reputation or something?

“Whatcha thinking about?”

Alex’s face pops up from behind the stone gate, plastered with his usual goofy smile and all your thoughts melt away. Alex Go? A reputation?

“Haha, nothing. Just something silly.” You uncross your arms, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Where did your friends go? They were with you a second ago.”

Alex folds his arms behind his head, leaning back a bit to peer back towards the school. His button down rises a bit, and you have to snatch your eyes away from the tantalizing sliver of skin that unveils itself.

“Ben said he left something in the classroom and made everyone go back with him to get it. He’s so scatterbrained, I don’t know what to do with him.”

You don’t have the heart to tell Alex what the real reason probably was, so you don’t.

You both begin your walk to the location, Alex leading the way.

“So, that uniform is pretty fancy huh?”

You look down at what you’re wearing. “Oh, this?” You tug a bit at the hem of the blazer. “Right, you haven’t seen me in my school uniform yet, huh?”

Alex shakes his head with a smile, his hands in his pockets. “Nope! To be honest, I almost didn’t recognize you. It’s like you’re a whole different person with an academy uniform on.”

You watch your feet next to Alex’s, faux leather uniform shoes beside brand name sneakers, both falling into sync. A bit of a half-smile slips onto your lips, teasing.

“Oh? My clubbing dress isn’t that flattering, is it?”

Alex holds his hands up, pink tinging his ears. “H-hey! You know I didn’t mean it like that!” He rubs the back of his neck abashedly, casting his gaze elsewhere.

“I was just a bit surprised you attend Jagga Academy. I mean, I’ve heard they’re super selective.”

Your smile takes a gentler curve, and you sigh. “Yeah, I studied really hard my eighth year to get in. Those were the days.”

Memories of your younger self flood your mind. You were fresh out of middle school, hopeful, bright, and stubborn. Unstoppable, that’s what all your teachers had used to describe you. A fighter. A writer. And memories they would stay.

His face flashes in your mind, like a haze, like a dream. One second he’s there, then he’s gone. You push the thought back into your mind.

Right now was about having a good time, and you didn’t want to ruin that.

Alex takes a turn and you follow him, willing yourself out of your thoughts.

You look up, skimming the area, unsure of where you were.

You look to the left, just past Alex, and see a familiar karaoke center. You look to your right and see the flash of a familiar scaffolding, leading to a bank you knew the name of without reading the sign.

A cold wash of something creeps up your body, something that feels like a licking flame, a cold fire. It inches up your back and into your fingers, and you ball them up, pressing your nails into your palms until the force has you trembling.

Something in your chest aches, and it keeps twisting, turning, throttling itself in your body and this can’t happen here, not now, not with him, not after being alone for so long.

A hand appears in front of your face, waving.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

You jerk your head up, pearls of sweat beading down your back and dotting your temples.

“Huh? Yeah?”

Alex gives you a look, brows furrowed, and lips pressed together. “Are you alright? You’ve been looking kind of out of it for a while.”

You swallow thickly and give what you hope is a convincing smile, but you can see a glimmer of yourself in Alex’s eyes. Shaking, scared, and shrinking, shrinking, shrinking away.

“Hah, yeah. Sorry, I’m just…”

You trail off. Don’t let yourself finish. You hate that your voice sounds so thin, so weak. You hate how you can’t even finish a sentence because of how your words sound like they’re teetering on the edge of oblivion, scared of falling into that dark, endless pool of vulnerability.

“…Tired.” You choke out, and it sounds like a cough. Feeble and sick.

Alex looks concerned now, but doesn’t ask any more questions.

He looks around, like he’s looking for a distraction, and you hate that he has to do that, hate that you’ve made this awkward, made him feel strange, fucked up this shit, again. It’s just past this block, you think. Then you’ll be fine, this will be fine.

“Hey!” Alex’s fingers graze your arm, and his fingers feel like freezing static on your body. “Look at that!”

He points a finger at something, you don’t know what, so you follow his gaze upward.

“Check it out!”

He jumps up and slaps the hard plastic backing harshly, the sound booms against your ears like a car crash, like any crash, like--

“Me and Ben used to do this all the time!”

Your lips feel dry when they part, you want to ask what he’s talking about, why he did that. But when you speak, no questions come out. Just a small and pathetic squeak,

“Huh?”

His green eyes glitter in the sun, his black hair is tousled, he’s happy and laughing and beautiful but you feel so so cold.

“We’ve been doing it since middle school, haha! We used to have competitions to see who could hit it first on the way home from classes.” He demonstrates with a few swings, but you’re not looking at him.

You turn around to focus on the traffic light again, remembering the noise it made when Alex’s hand struck it, like unrelenting thunder.

“The traffic light?” Voice like crinkling paper.

“Yeah, but there’s kind of a funny story here. There was a day Ben said I wouldn’t be able to slap the top of the traffic light, so I took a running start from half a block down and struck that baby right where it hurts.”

He laughs and it hollows your heart like a great echoing cavern.

“I hit it way too hard though, and the thing started spazzing out. I think it took them like a whole three months to get it replaced!”

Alex smiles fondly at the memory and you try hard to smile with him, but turning up your lips feels like a dreadful task. Your heart thrums in your chest and it feels strained with each beat, like it’s imploring you to run.

There’s a huge storm now, whipping into a hurricane in your head. Two pieces of the same broken person trying to pull themselves together by tearing someone else apart. It’s not his fault, you know. You think this, but you keep seeing his face, those eyes, and the memories stay with you, make it impossible to move on.

You want someone to blame for everything that’s been lost, for every day you’ve had to live with blaming yourself not reacting fast enough, for not doing something.

The screech of tire, the scent of burning rubber, the beeping of the heart monitor echoes in your mind, the clicking of hospital tiles underfoot.

And then you see him. He’s there, illuminated by the halo of yellow light, flickering, flickering, then gone- and instead now you see green eyes, black hair, a radiant smile, and it’s so blinding.

The tik tik tik of a broken stoplight echoes in the back of your mind, like a haunting melody in the abyss of a night.

It couldn’t be Alex, you think, but you can’t stop clenching your jaw. Alex is too sweet, you reason, too kind, too oblivious, too careless, too reckless-

You stop yourself and take a shaky breath in, no. When would you ever learn to stop pointing fingers, to move on from this? Would you ever even get there? This wasn’t anyone’s fault, you think, but it was also yours. No one but yours, who was there and failed to stop it.

And Alex? Well…

You take in another stuttering breath of air and it floods your lungs, and you wonder how long you’ve been holding it. Your hands are shaking, so you push them into your pockets, carefully.

Alex has his gaze turned away from you, but his arm is hovering a bit, like he’s ready to grab you in case you pass out, and only then do you realize how pallid you look, you feel.

…Alex Go, silly, thoughtful, bright Alex Go.

And you remember his smile, the way he shines like the sun when he smiles at you.

Smiles.

At you.

He helped you feel things you hadn’t felt in what seemed like years, he had given you wings to fly with again. And for the temporary moment you were with him, you were free to soar through the endless sky.

You gulp, and feel the warmth of his arm hovering over your body. Like an offer, an invitation. You want to lean in, to lose yourself in his touch, in his grasp. But something is stopping you, and you don’t.

For now, being afar is good enough, it’s as much as you deserve.

You both make another turn and he slows beside you, pulling you out of your trance, a gentle smile on his face, patient, and warm.

“We’re here, (y/n).”

[strangestdiary]

under your spell | nandor the relentless

relationship: Nandor/Fem!Reader

request: Hi! Are you still taking requests? If so can I request a jealous!Nandor x reader? 

words: 2.7k

warnings: Angst, asshole dates, fluff

A/N: I feel like the jealousy isn’t really there but I hope you still like it. 

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

---

Nandor noticed there was something different about you today. Having come for his daily visit just as it went dark outside, you had only given him a hello before stalking back over to your closet to nervously comb through your clothes asking what looked better before throwing it into the steadily growing pile. You kept sighing to yourself, mumbling under your breath that you needed a little more color in your wardrobe. He found it strange how urgent you seemed to be, the sweat beading on your forehead being proof enough that you were working yourself up over something seemingly very important to you. 

Since you were Nandor’s first actual human friend in a few centuries give or take he couldn’t help but feel like he was out of the loop, confusion and curiosity pecking at the back of his head. He shifted his legs so they crossed, leaning back in your desk chair and watched as you groan yet again, running your hands over your face. 

“So what exactly is all of this about?” Nandor asked, your frenzied state leaving a tinge of worry as he watched you. Watching you take a blouse he had never seen you in before off it’s hanger with a sigh mumbling how ‘this should do’. 

You glanced over at him, noting how it would almost look like he was floating if it weren’t for the pink back of the desk chair poking out from behind him every so often when he moved from side to side idly. “Chloe set me up on a date with her friend, I sort of know him from when he would come hang out with us sometimes.” You turned back around to your closet again, kneeling down to look for a pair of shoes that would actually look decent with the shirt clutched in your hand. “This is the first actual date I’ve been on in like a year so I’m kind of freaking out if that wasn’t already noticeable.” Your tone of voice was heavy with self depreciation, a chuckle following afterwards to smooth it all down. “He’s nice though. I just hope I don’t screw it up.”

Nandor swore he almost felt his dead heart sink a little, a date? “Interesting.” Was all Nandor found himself saying, he was kind of shocked to even think of the idea of you going on a date. Sure he knew you had human friends and that you didn’t just talk to him or Nadja but it was hard to think of you going on a date with someone. Even then he couldn’t help but scowl, why would some human you barely knew be more important than him? He could offer far more than some weak mortal that your friend had paired you with. Nandor wondered just how interesting this man had to be in order for you to skip a night with himself. 

Nandor’s bitter train of thought was cut off by your voice “I hope you don’t mind. I mean I know we usually have movie nights tonight but he said that tonight was the only good night for him.” You sounded so genuinely apologetic.

Nandor shifted in the small chair as you awaited his response “It is okay. I will just ask Guillermo to watch the Pet Semeteries with me instead. You can go on your little human date.” His response was a lot more defensive than you had hoped, it made your stomach knot slightly, feeling bad for flaking on Nandor without warning. Especially since this was your designated movie night. You couldn’t help but still feel bad though like in a way you had betrayed him especially since Nandor was one of your closest friends, someone you usually told everything to.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you Nandor.” You walked over to him, his head tilting up only barely to look up at you putting on a closed smile that didn’t meet his eyes. A strange aching feeling growing in his chest, even with your promise he still couldn’t help but still feel disappointed. You were giving up your time with him for some puny human man? He wanted to hiss at the thought. 

“It is okay, I understand.” He stood from the desk chair and patted you on the bicep twice, a certain awkwardness to the gesture. “Now if you excuse me I will make my way back home, I have important things to do as well.” The tone of his voice completely betrayed what he was saying, blatantly trying to guilt you out of the date all together. 

You couldn’t help but smile up at him, feeling a distant ache of your own resting in your heart. “I’ll see you tomorrow Nandor, and to make up for skipping movie night I’ll let you pick out two movies to watch.” Before he turned his back to you and walked out the door you grabbed his hand, his cold skin comforting in your night of nervousness “I really am sorry.” 

Nandor’s eyes were on your joined hands, a certain fluttering feeling ripping through his stomach. “I- It’s okay.” His gaze lifted up to catch your eyes, a soft smile stretching across his lips before slowly releasing your hand from his own. “I will see you tomorrow.” 

----

You had finally gotten ready after Nandor left and drove to the restaurant you and Daniel were meant to meet at. This wasn’t your first time meeting him but it was the first time you had been alone with him, usually Chloe being there as well as some other friends. 

He had seemed kind and caring and like he was genuinely interested in you when Chloe was around, and according to her he had practically begged her to score this date with you. You had liked him then but when he sat himself down in front of you now, there was something different about him. The smile he gave you made your skin prick uncomfortably but you brushed it off thinking it was merely first date jitters. 

You smiled back at him, looking at him fully. “You look good.” you complimented truthful in your words, noticing how the grey button up he wore brought out the freckles sprinkling his skin. His hair was styled nicely, looking soft and fluffy. You noticed his nails were painted notably a while ago given how chipped the black coating was now, it reminded you of Laszlo for a second. 

He looked at you over the top of the menu, a brow raised in question “Thanks.” He replied with a slightly cocky tone, setting the menu down in front of him. “You look nice too.” He gestured to you.

You felt your chest swell with pride, maybe tonight would go a little better than you had previously thought. Your nervousness melted away in the moment as you glanced down at the menu. 

Though unfortunately it wasn’t long before Daniel began to show his true colors, slipping in condescending remarks and a teasing chuckle any time you would talk about something you were interested in, only to cut you off to talk about him more and more. You couldn’t help but sigh audibly as he droned on about his extensive research on war history, specifically the second world war, it almost made you think Colin had somehow learned how to shapeshift but you also knew that Colin had the decency to at least be a tad bit respectful. 

“So what’s your favorite film?” He asked, “Mine is probably pulp fiction. You know the way Tarantino just knows how to make a good film is just amazing.”

You shrugged your shoulders lightly, mulling over the question “I don’t know, probably something horror, it’s hard to choose.” 

Daniel groaned before shaking his head “I don’t understand why people watch that shit, I mean why do people want to get scared on purpose?” He smiled over at you, “I mean seriously it just seems stupid. I personally hate horror movies, and the gore.” He let out a sigh and shook his head again as if disgusted with even the idea of horror movies “I just don’t get how people watch that stuff without feeling sick.” 

After that it just seemed like he wouldn’t stop talking, topic after topic he dominated with his overbearing opinions. Anything you expressed interest in he would belittle, undermining them and making them seem lesser than his own, and yet he still smiled over at you as if you were supposed to be having fun. 

“How about we get outta here? I can take you back to my place.” He reached over the table to grab your hand, you instinctively pulled away from him. Disgust settling like a rock in your stomach. “Come on, don’t act like that.” He chuckled. There was something in his eyes that unsettled you more than anything that night. “I could show you a really good time.” He reached for your hand again, fingers wrapping around your wrist blunt nails biting into your skin.

You grabbed your bag, backing up in your chair feeling your eyes sting, wrenching your wrist out of his hand. “N- no that’s fine actually. I have someone who’s coming to pick me up.” You stumbled over the chair leg a little when you stood ignoring his exasperated huff before trying to convince you to sit back down. You shakily tore money from your wallet not even bothering to count it before throwing it next to your unfinished drink and rushing away from the table. 

----

You burst through the gothic Staten Island home with a sob, having held it in the whole drive to the house as a way to avoid crashing your car. Relief briefly filled you as you noticed there was nobody in the foyer to witness your much less than presentable state. With how quiet the home was you assumed nobody was even home, but either way you still rushed to Nandor’s room hoping to seek some type of solace after your disastrous night. There was a certain lightness that you felt in your heart at the thought of Nandor being there for you, a flutter in your chest. 

Once you opened the door you couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh that he was standing at his antique writing desk that you had bought him as a birthday gift just two years ago. He spun on his heels letting out a surprised gasp “Is it Halloween already?” he said before noticing it was just you. 

You let out a teary laugh sniffling grossly, Nandor did a double take before realizing the messy tears and black streaks running down your face. A certain type of rage settled over him like a shadow, who had done this to you? His kind and caring human trembling at his door. 

Nandor walked over to where you stood grabbing your hand gently and ushering you over to the small loveseat sitting in the corner of his room, more of a decorative piece than used for actual comfort. You didn’t miss the dust that picked up around the both of you as you sat down. “What creature did this to you?” There was a darkness in his voice, a threatening look washed over his features. 

“Daniel…” You spat, the night replaying in your head. For a second you had wondered if you were overreacting. Maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal and you were pushing it out of proportion, but you couldn’t help but feel that disgusting crawl on your skin where he had touched. He had seemed like such a nice person the other times you had met him, why was he so different now? What had changed? 

Nandor remembered now, your human date that you had been so nervous about a few hours prior. He felt one of his hands curl into a fist, a certain type of anger he couldn’t place overcoming him. Some worthless human had hurt you this badly, the pain he wished to bring this Daniel was unthinkable. 

You sniffled again wiping your nose with the back of your hand before forcing out a pitiful laugh, a painful sound to Nandor’s ears “I’m sorry for coming here… I’m probably just overreacting.” You shook your head at yourself before giving him a strained smile,. “He was just a jerk... I’m probably being stupid.” 

Nandor’s dead heart aches when hearing you speak, why were you sorry? You were clearly hurt so why did you feel so apologetic when someone else had hurt you. “It is not your place to say sorry, Y/N.” Nandor reasoned. His hand came up to cup your face, thumb raking over your stained cheek. “I am here if you wish to tell me about your date.” He almost sounded reluctant to say the word itself. 

You smiled at him a few more tears slipping from your eyes at his gentleness, a complete contrast to the other man you had tortured yourself with, but you guessed it wasn’t your fault. “He was awful.” You started “And he didn’t shut his mouth. All he did was look at me like I was a piece of meat.” You vented to Nandor for almost two hours, his attention never venturing away from you. He gripped onto every word you said, not even interrupting to say a quip of his own like usual. 

Once you were done and your second round of tears had finally dried Nandor smiled at you sweetly, his thumb caressing the top of your hand. “Well if you would like. Maybe some night I could take you on a real date.” You tensed up a little, taken by surprise yet again that night, but for a completely different reason. 

Never in your time knowing him had you ever considered the possibility of Nandor uttering words quite like that. He wanted to go on a date… with you? A human? He looked at you with such sincerity you felt your heart swell. You had suspected your feelings for Nandor for a while now but never even thought about pursuing them given how your mortality circumstances. You had always assumed he would look down on something so taboo as a vampire dating a human. 

“You look like a soul sucking ghoul just entered the room.” Nandor commented squeezing your hand in his. 

“Those exist?” You couldn’t help but ask, a laugh following. You felt winded looking into Nandor’s adoring eyes. “I didn’t even think you would be into the whole human vampire thing.” His face twisted slightly before smoothing back over.

“I wasn’t really… Not before I met you I’ve come to realize.” He said “I’m not one to judge but it wasn’t really my type of thing, but after Nadja had brought you to the house for the first time. Then when we actually became friends, well I guess my perspective began to shift.” Your stomach felt like it was doing flips, a smile coming to your lips. 

You intertwined your fingers with Nandor’s, nodding your head after considering his heavy hitting words “I would love to go on a date with you Nandor.” Your eyes were stinging once again “I mean in a way I’m sure I’ve always had feelings for you since we first met.” You confessed thinking back to the time you saw him for the first time only four years ago, your nervousness and Nadja’s encouraging words before hissing at Laszlo who assumed you were meant to be food. 

Nandor hoisted you up off the dusty loveseat with a wide smile spreading across his face “Wonderful! Let’s go.” 

“What right now?” You asked as he dragged you towards his bedroom door and down the hall to the foyer where Colin was rounding the corner. It only took a second to remember how messy you probably looked, knowing your makeup was probably ruined and stained against your cheeks. 

“Yes! There’s still three more hours until daylight!” Nandor enthused, grinning at you over his shoulder. 

[agarthanguide]

How I Did the Mosaic Effect

You asked for it, so here it is- a shoddily composed but nonetheless candid and hopefully useful tutorial on the Mosaic Effect I used in the Mollymauk portrait.  Those of a stout and courageous spirit, read on.

Start with a sketch.  I was heavily referencing the Byzantine mosaics found in Ravenna and Istanbul, so my sketch is boxy and simple.  The detail and structure comes from the shape of the tesserae, so there’s no need to put in a lot of fine lines in the sketch. In fact, you probably won’t be able to replicate really small details.

Next lay in the gold textures where you want guilding to be.  I used multiple layers of gold textures, piecing things by where I wanted the visual interest.  Blend the edges by erasing with a soft brush, but don’t make anything too smooth.  Sparkle comes from the difference between dark and light. You can see I placed the highest texture in the halo and in his chest, and darkened the sides by his arms a lot.  NOTE- I eventually found this color gold to be too warm, and cooled it down significantly.

Time to paint!  Try really hard to block things in without lines.  If you do draw lines, make them bold enough that they can serve as a line of tesserae in the finished piece.  Use motifs that echo the style you are going for, and the end texture will do the rest.

For example, I cribbed the diagonal square pattern on Molly’s coat from a famous mosaic in the Hagia Sophia. Also make note of the shifting line patterns of the gold tiles, which create a circular shape in Alexandros’ halo, while building mostly on geometric patterns in the background.  That’ll come up later.

Apply a stone texture to the painted section. Once again, it doesn’t have to be perfect or absolutely convincing, it just has to break up the brush marks that inevitably make up the underpainting. I went with a marbled look, but you can go in any direction you like.  Most Byzantine mosaics have satin polished stones making up the tesserae, so I wanted a smoother look.

Okay here is the magic part- Place a stone or plaster texture over the whole piece.  I used a photo of a plaster wall from textures.com, but I’m fairly confident anything will work.

Now darken the plaster texture to a midtone, something that matches very few areas of your underpainting, in terms of darkness levels.

Put the following layer style setting on your plaster texture layer.  There’s a purpose here- you are making a very tiny shadow around every tesserae you draw.  It makes a huge difference on areas of the finished painting where the tesserae colors are similar to the background color.  Lemme give you an example-

This is Molly’s hair without the Inner Glow styling.  See how you can hardly see the individual tiles on the lighter sections?

Here’s the same section WITH the layer styling.  Big difference.

Now- apply a layer mask to your plaster texture.  Set your texture to a lower opacity- say 70%. Get yourself a slightly geometric brush with hard edges.  Choose the color absolute black and choose your layer mask to paint on.  Set your brush to 100% opacity. Are you ready?

BEGIN TO PAINT OUT THE TESSERAE. This takes practice. You’ll probably have to go back and forth between making the texture layer 30% opaque and 70% opaque.  The goal is to be able to track the shapes you are making while still being able to see the underpainting.

This part takes a while to get the hang of and even after you’ve mastered it, it takes forever.  Keep turning your background to 100% opacity to check how it’s going.

My advice is to start with the outlines of everything.  I know I finished the face first, but by the time I was patching up the other interiors I had learned so much that I basically had to do mass parts of the face over again in their entirety.

At some point I decided that Molly’s skin wasn’t purple enough- color choice is one of my weaknesses, so I had sampled colors off of actual Byzantine mosaics.  They don’t really include violet as a tone at all, so I eventually had to make the decision to abandon historical accuracy in pursuit of lavender.

Okay so that’s the interior finished!

For the external background, I made a brush.  Well, I took a hard square brush and took away all size jitters and transfers.  Then, after a few lines, I added a 1% angle jitter so that it wouldn’t look Too Perfect.  Actual Byzantine mosaics have very regularly irregular backgrounds.  They try to make as much of it out of square stones as possible, but then they keep the matching ones all in one little patch and then just sort of bang that patch into other patches.  So, in an effort to imitate that, you can see my hastily-developed system. I picked a size and plotted out a small area in that size.  Then I built lots of other small areas of various sizes until they started to collide. I left the imperfect spaces alone, for a minute....

Then I went back and filled them with my hard brush, by hand.  This was an absolute necessity in curved areas, like the edge of the halo, but also looked really slick where tiles didn’t line up quite right.  It gave it that imperfect, handmade look.

Okay DAMN ALMOST DONE!  I made the damaged bits by taking a cloud brush, setting it to pure white, and going to town on the layer mask. When you feel good about the shapes, take a hard brush and bust up the edges to that it mostly takes out whole tiles instead of just... ghosting them to death.

NOTE-  I almost gave myself a heart attack because I forgot to duplicate the texture layer first and ended up having to recover the original finished pic from some Well of Lost Souls in the back of my computer.  So learn from that and do elegant damage AFTER DUPLICATING YOUR TEXTURE LAYER.

OKAY THAT’S IT!  Go into the world with this knowledge and make me a bunch of mosaic effect drawings.  It was tedious but fun, right???

[jadekitty777]

Dreams to Dance

People said I couldn’t make an AU out of this prompt... you better believe I made an AU out of this prompt.

Oh but am I EVER excited to get here. This one is my top favorite of my seven entries. I really hope y’all like it too!!

Day 6: Atlas Ball

Rating: K+

Pairing: Qrow/Clover

Word Count: 3.5k

Ao3 Link: Dreams to Dance

Summary: Season 7 of Step to the Beat is in full swing and dancing contestants Qrow Branwen and Clover Ebi have successfully made it to the fifth round. But with Ironwood judging their every move and a theme choice that was particularly unfavorable to them, the couple knew their elimination might be on the horizon. If they were going to stay in this competition, they needed something big, something that would blow everyone else away. 

And Qrow just happened to have an idea.

(AKA: The Dancing AU no one asked for)

~

Qrow swore if his grip got any tighter, his phone was going to shatter.

“Is there anything you’d like to say to those commenting how last night’s choice of theme was particularly unfavorable for the only same-sex dancing pair?” The interviewer, Glynda, asked.

He liked her. She was all business and no nonsense when it came to her questions. She wasn’t shy to ask the difficult ones but never wasted her breath on anything that didn’t at least provoke some thought. And he was pretty sure she was rooting for his team.

It was the man she was directing the question to that he didn’t like.

“I believe those claims are unfounded.” James Ironwood replied, fixing his stupid cufflinks. “While yes, the theme of an ‘Atlas Ball’ brings upon these fairytale notions of a princess being swept up by her prince similar to Cinderella or Beauty and the Beast, it’s merely that. A notion. The theme is merely meant to be a springboard our pairs can use to express their creativity and my scores are issued on the merit of how well they executed that expression. Their gender does not matter.”

“Tch, fuck off.” Qrow grumbled.

Ever since the first episode of Step to the Beat, Ironwood had quickly been singled out as the biggest hard-ass of all the other judges. He seemed to find flaw in everything, docking points for even the smallest half-step out of line or every smile missed, only getting tougher as the seasons went on. He’d been gunning for his and Clover’s elimination since their very first audition where he claimed their foxtrot had been ‘slow’ and ‘uninspired’.

Clover kept telling him he was imagining things but after last night, when they survived yet another round only to have Ironwood announce the theme that was so geared towards the rest of their competition, even his normally optimistic fiancé didn’t have any reassurances to give.

They knew this was probably their end game.

“They say too much bad TV rots the brain you know.”

He looked up from the screen. Clover crossed over the practice mats, hopping up onto the edge of the stage next to him. Qrow huffed in annoyance as his phone was taken away and a water bottle placed in it instead, but ultimately didn’t protest as the video was paused and set, face down, behind them.

He uncapped the bottle, taking a hearty drink, before saying, “Doesn’t it piss you off though?”

“Sure. All the more reason to show everyone we’re more than just the token gay couple.” He replied with the same level of confidence Qrow had always trusted to lead him, whether it be out on the dancefloor or in the ups and downs of life. “So, let’s get started.”

Clover pulled out his little pocketbook, flipping a few pages in where he had written down the eight dance styles allowed for this round.

Since starting in the competition, Qrow and Clover kept themselves on a strict schedule for each new week. The first day was dedicated to choosing their style and song. The next two, they worked on choreography and practice. The day after those was deciding costume, lights and makeup – a portion Qrow, personally, excelled at since he had the eye for color coordination and fashion. Their last two days were spent putting it all together until they had it down to memory. It was exhausting work, and some days they didn’t leave the practice room until after midnight, only to come back a few hours later. But, it was also why he appreciated his fiancé’s knack for organization, because otherwise Qrow was sure they’d be nothing more than a confused wreck like the many other couples who possibly used this very same room.

Before being selected, Qrow hadn’t been all too worried about any of the horror stories they’d witnessed over the years. But, after week after grueling week having the pressure constantly on their shoulders or finishing one round, succeeding at it, only to be thrown into the next with no rest or break, even he and Clover had had their moments. It quickly became apparent to him how things grew so out of hand for the other pair-ups. But a snap of annoyance here or a need for an hour of alone time there was nothing compared to the former contestants who changed their performances halfway through the week or even the very night before going on, only to predictably fumble on stage. Arguments that broke out over trivial details like not having the right trinkets or lipstick. People trying out experimental moves to stand out that more often than not resulted in injury.

Then there was that one event during season three, when the stress of the competition became too much and resulted in a wife and husband filing for divorce.

The very idea a competition could ruin his relationship with Clover seemed ridiculous – if anything, despite the trials and tribulations, he’d never felt closer to his future husband.

He leaned on his arm, scanning over the list. As they weren’t allowed to perform with a dance they’d done before, audition included, a few were already crossed out. Like their uninspired foxtrot. Or the paso doble which had given them a second-place score during the third week. It had been an excellent choice, highlighting their skills like Clover’s strength and Qrow’s flexibility. There was only one dance they did better.

It was on Clover’s mind too. “You think it’s time to break out our rumba?”

It was tempting. They’d been keeping it in their back pocket, as a little ace up their sleeve; but secretly, they’d both hoped they’d get to show it off in the finals. Now not even knowing if they’d make it that far, it was hard not to pull it now. The complex, often speedy movements, the power, and the agile form the rumba called for were all things the two of them exemplified best at. For Qrow especially it framed him well, as it was a very hip-oriented dance and he knew how to use his.

It would almost definitely earn them a high spot for the round, making up for their lacking score last night. But, then what? They’d still have four weeks to survive through, and with their best dance behind them, he couldn’t see them getting that far, as everything else would pale in comparison.

Qrow rolled his head up, meeting the other’s gaze. “Do you think we can make it to the next round?”

Clover hummed, rolling it around in his head. “If we’re careful about it, there’s a chance. But this list is pretty limiting for us. We could do a tango. Maybe with an Addams Family angle?”

“Too predictable.” He waved off, scanning over their options once more. If only they were allowed to switch lead and follow, the jive would have been perfect. So, he skipped over it, only to linger on the very last one.

It was risky.

Probably stupid.

But as an idea formed in his head, he found himself pointing to it and saying, “How about we do this one?”

Clover’s eyebrows furrowed. “The waltz? Are you sure? All of our performances have been high-tempo. They’re not going to be expecting a slow dance from us.”

“Exactly. There’s more than one way to surprise our audience you know. Besides,” Qrow added as he hopped down to the floor. “You’re really going to like what I have planned.”

~

The minutes before their performance were the most nerve-wrecking Qrow had ever had to endure. Stuck backstage as the floor for the act before theirs was cleaned up and their own was readied, a short reel played for the audience – sneak peeks the camera crew had caught of Clover and Qrow’s work as they planned out their moves or answers to the various interviewers who stopped by to inquire about whatever drama was popular that week. Watching himself sink down a bit whenever the camera was on him and hearing his own gravely voice come out over the speakers did nothing to ease his jitters. In fact, it usually left him wanting to be swallowed up by the floor.

“Thirty seconds you two, and then it’s showtime!” One of the crew members called.

A hand slipped into his, squeezing gently.

“We got this.” Clover assured.

He inhaled shakily and let it out slow. Squeezed back. “Yeah, we do.”

Another member made a hand motion and they took it as their cue to walk into the darkness of the stage and get into position as their announcement boomed across the auditorium. “Introducing Clover Ebi and Qrow Branwen, dancing a traditional waltz!”

As the first trills of the violin started up, the lights came on, revealing them facing one another. Clover was down on one knee, holding Qrow’s hand in his.

The production allowed for any sort of props to be used to tell their stories or just liven up the set as a complement to the main attraction. Over the years, he’d seen all sorts of things be brought in – cars, cages, couches. For this dance, they’d only asked for one thing. Set behind Qrow was a small, plastic toy castle that he could imagine his nieces would have played with when they were younger. They needed nothing more, for the real prop was Qrow himself, dressed in an eye-catching scarlet red ball gown befitting of a real princess.

He could already hear the exclamations of the audience around him.

Clover lent forward and, like the true prince charming he was dressed as, brushed his lips to the back of Qrow’s hand before rising. His movements were grand as he swept Qrow down the ramp to the main stage, the two of them turning together so they didn’t waste a single footstep. All the while the soft, dulcet tones of Cathy Cavadini accompanied them as they moved.

“Dreams to dream,

In the dark of the night.

When the world goes wrong,

I can still make it right.”

As they came off the ramp, they started off slow, moving into a whisk that presented them fully to their audience, before Clover brought him back in, whirling him along to the edges of the stage. As they reached the far corner on the right, Qrow was pulled out into a turn. He felt the skirt of the dress rise with him and it felt wonderful to hear a few happy shouts from the onlookers just like they gave the women in similar clothing.

“I can see so far in my dreams,

I’ll follow my dreams,

Until they come true.”

They turned their way to the other corner of the stage, preforming another outward turn that resulted in another set of calls before heading back to the center as the last trills of the first stanza grew to an end, preparing for the first big move. They’d practiced it over and over, knowing it was a difficult maneuver that had to go right on stage no matter what.

Clover guided him into a parallel walk. It was similar to the whisk, all about showing themselves off, except instead of both of them facing the same way, they were back to front, moving in a circular two-step around each other. What no one saw, but Qrow felt, was the slide of Clover’s hand between a hidden slit in the dress, undoing the little metal hooks keeping it closed.

As the music hit a short, bright rise and Cavadini’s voice did likewise on the first verse, Clover brought him back in, his right-hand grabbing onto a fistful of the satin fabric. With the guide of his partner’s left hand, Qrow moved seamlessly into the two inside turns.

“Come with me,

You will see what I mean.

There’s a world, inside,

No one else ever sees.”

He knew he got it just right as the roar of the audience climbed around them while the dress fell away, revealing Qrow’s outfit underneath. It was another prince’s outfit, with greys and blacks and deep greens, that complemented the other’s sharp whites, golds and reds.  He made a show of pulling from Clover’s hold, feigning embarrassment and shame.

Not for long though as Clover tossed the dress towards backstage and made a show of asking for his hand again.

Upon taking it, they renewed the dance, more vigor in their steps than before.

As if learning who Qrow truly was only made their love stronger.

“You will go so far

In my dreams, somewhere in my dreams

Your dreams will come true.

There is a star, waiting to guide us,

Shining inside us, when we close our eyes.”

Rather than down the edges like before, they stayed in the center, moving gracefully around one another in a square pattern, grinning at each other like lovestruck teenagers. At the last corner turn, they came close again for more sweeps and turns. With his legs now freer, he used them to his advantage, kicking them up or popping them behind him for a little extra pizazz on certain moves.

They knew they were approaching the big crescendo as the tempo started to pick up and the singer started to hold notes longer.

As it reached the peak, Clover turned him around so they faced away from one another. He gripped him strong and secure just underneath his armpits as Qrow held out his arms and fell back, almost down to the other’s waistline. With admirable strength, his fiancé kept him lifted up while they made two sweeping turns, Qrow’s legs never touching the ground as he held his legs in a leaping position similar to a ballerina’s grand jeté.

The resounding cheers were deafening.

“Don’t let go,

If you stay close to me!

In my dreams tonight,

You will see what I see.”

Ironically, at the apex of the last turn, Clover had to let him go. Qrow slid along the waxed floor, using his own momentum to swing around so he was facing the other when he stopping moving. Just as before, their separation was brief, Clover coming to lift him.

“Dreams to dream,

As near as can be,

Inside, you and me,

They always come true.”

They took another, tighter, swing around the stage, ultimately coming back to the center. The song winded down on the final verse and in turn, they kept their movements closer, more intimate. When the last words played, Clover dipped him and brought him back up slowly.

As the instruments also began to soften, Clover ended it as they began, taking a step back and falling to one knee. The only difference this time around was he now held Qrow’s hand in both of his, a perfect mimic of the day he’d proposed to him seven months ago.

The crowd went wild around them and the spotlight that had been following them was traded in for full lighting. Clover stood, gathering him up in an ecstatic hug that had Qrow laughing along with him. It had been a perfect performance.

“And that was Qrow and Clover with the last dance!” The host, Roman Torchwick, called as he joined them on stage. “Truly a marvelous way to end the night gentlemen. But, let’s see what the judges have to say about it, shall we?”

“Well, it was quite a display.” Ozpin was the first to speak as he leaned towards his mic. His grin gave away his feelings even before he spoke. “The story you two managed to tell with just a few short actions was masterfully done. You’re the one who crafted it, Qrow?”

Roman held the mic his way so he could answer. “Yeah. Fairytales are so often about overcoming life’s trials and finding true love at the end. I think a lot of us admire that ideal – and that’s what I wanted to capture with tonight’s dance.”

“Well, I’d say you did excellently. Not only was it heartwarming it also provides a poignant message to those watching that the right partner can lift you up.” Oz praised. “It absolutely is your best performance for storytelling thus far, and I’m happy to appoint it a 9.”

Qrow felt the squeeze where Clover’s arm rested on his shoulders and had to fight his blush as he heard his whispered ‘I’m so proud of you!’ that was thankfully not picked up by the mic.

“Oo-hoo! A top score.” Their host flattered. “Let’s see if you can keep it up. So, Port, your thoughts on their song choice and costuming?”

The aging man turned one end of his whitening mustache as he replied, “Dreams to Dream was a very nice choice indeed and truly sells the slow romance of the waltz.  I can see from here those suits of yours are near perfect matches. The dress is where I see flaws. It holds a great level of ingenuity, but it was hard not to laugh outright when the lights first came on, which didn’t match the tone. I also hope you two know those turns at the end of the stage gave away you weren’t exactly wearing glass slippers under that frock, among other things, did you?”

“Hehe, we were admittedly a little zealous with the dress.” Clover admitted. “We knew we should have gone with something less flowy, but it’s hard to deny how aesthetically pleasing it is to see a woman’s dress twirl with her. We wanted to have that too, even if it revealed a bit too much.”

“Zeal can be a great attribute when handled in the right way, but in this case I’d say part of it fell flat – as is, I’m giving you boys a 7.”

Still a good score. Qrow started to breathe a little easier. As long as James wasn’t a total ass and gave them more than a 3, they were moving on to next week

James straightened up, clearing his throat. “It’s really a shame-”

Oh, here we go.

“-That this is the first time you two have given us such a marvelous show all across the board.”

…Eh?

His eyes widened, certain he’d misheard.

But James cold-as-steel Ironwood was smiling. “Your footwork was impeccable and your rhythm to the music was like watching artwork in motion. This performance tonight shows just what you two are really capable of and that you’re truly a force to be reckoned with in this competition.”

Qrow couldn’t get his vocal cords to work. Luckily Clover found it for both of them, “Thank you, sir.”

“I hope you both keep it up. For now, take home another 9 with pride.”

He shared a look with the man beside him, both going from slack-jawed to grinning in seconds. A nine! A nine!!! For the second time, Qrow was tugged into his partner’s solid embrace, this time being twirled around on stage while Roman declared them as tonight’s winning team and the audience hollered and applauded.

Even after they were ushered off stage so the pair that had come in last could give a final goodbye and the announcement of the next round’s stipulations could be broadcast, neither of them couldn’t stop smiling, still buzzing with so much post-performance adrenalin and joy. The smiles stayed on their faces the entire time Glynda asked her questions. Throughout every call from family and friends giving congratulations. The whole drive back to the hotel.

After a warm shower and a hearty dinner, Qrow eventually found himself pillowed against the headboard and tucked against Clover’s side, sleepily watching reruns of the performances. Usually, they ran commentary over them, picking out the flaws and successes of each dance, particularly their own, to try and improve for the next round.

But as he drank in the applause once more as theirs came to an end, he found he didn’t have much to say. The TV was turned off, washing them in silence. He laid his head onto Clover’s chest, feeling fingers thread through his hair.

“You were magnificent out there.” Clover said.

He craned his neck some, enough so his fiancé could see his tiny smirk. “Weren’t half bad yourself, charmer. I’d say you swept me right off my feet.”

He chuckled heartily. “How could I not?” He dropped a kiss on his lips. “You are my fairytale.”

“And you’re mine.” Qrow vowed, cupping Clover’s chin and met him for another kiss.

More than the winning scores or a fancy trophy potentially on the horizon, he’d attest that it was only in moments like these that he attained true victory.

---

A/N: Got a lot of dedications to list for this one:

-The song is as Port says “Dreams to Dream” – specifically Tanya’s version from Fievel Goes West. Cathy Cavadini is her voice actor. I recommend giving it a listen to get an idea of the pacing and where their moves happen.

I took the inspiration for Qrow and Clover’s dance from various Dancing with the Stars performances and recommend watching them as well. I’ll list them out here:

-From both Heather Morris & Maks Chmerkovskiy and James Hinchcliffe & Jenna Johnson’s performances I took the inspiration of circling the stage and some of the up kicks Qrow mentions he does after the dress comes off. You can also see a lot of the ‘whisk’ moves they do in the center of the stage (presenting themselves to the audience). The dip and slow return that James and Jenna do at the end is similar to the one Qrow and Clover do. 

-Von Miller & Witney Carson – from this one, the way Von takes Witney’s hand in the beginning is how I envision Clover asking for it the second time during the dance. The square pattern they do midway through is also the one Qrow and Clover do.

-Marla Maples & Tony Dovolani – This is the big one. This is the lift Qrow and Clover do at the end. It’s really cool looking, so I recommend giving it a watch.

-However, Qrow having his clothes removed mid-performance was inspired by Elizaveta Tuktamysheva’s 2018 ice skating performance.

[queerchoicesblog]

The Birth of Cherubino (1/2)

Hiya, folks! So, as previously announced, the wlw writing project continues after a break with a miniseries set back in Vienna, one of the iconic capitals of opera at the time of Mozart. An emerging singer gets the chance to be an understudy in the latest Mozart’s discussed opera Le Nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro), that  premiered at the Burgtheater in Vienna on 1 May 1786, w and play the pants role of the page Cherubino. Preparing for the role doesn’t quite go as planned… .

Tagging: @scottishqueer​

Previous chapter: The Understudy, An Unexpected Turn of Events

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

_________________________

So it's decided: two understudies will bring this Cherubino to life. It will have do, I guess. I am surprised by her reaction when we set foot in her husband's studio. The place is the same: velvet armchairs, oil paintings immortalising gorgeous Italian landscapes at the walls, the finely decorated cello at the very centre of the room. Yet the atmosphere is completely different in a way I couldn't foresee. While I head towards my usual spot at the side of the cello, Lia looks...I'd say afraid to walk in: when she eventually decides herself, she does it almost tiptoeing and looking around as if someone might appear anytime and scold her. Usher her away as a naughty child not allowed to be there.

I ask her if she's fine and she shivers looking at me. Her face relaxes in a quick smile and she takes seat at the instrument, muttering a reassurance. I understand that this is "the Maestro's kingdom" but I am surprised that she hardly ever set foot here or so it seems...she mentioned being well versed in music and I don't see any other cello in the house. Unless they have others hidden somewhere behind the closed doors, that is. I don't have it that she might be...banned from the studio! But maybe, seeing how unsure she suddenly looks here... I suggest she familiarises herself with the instrument and most importantly the aria while I warm up my voice in a corner. I think she's grateful of me giving her space and taking the lead. She obliges with a quick smile. Once I am done, I approach her again and check in on her. "I- I think I get this, the melody is not too complicated...and it's not all about music, you'll do most of the work". She briefly meets my eyes then she fixes hers on the music sheets, brows furrowed in concentration. "Whenever you're ready, Miss-". "Constanze" I correct her. We share a quick smile and it looks like she relaxes a little. "Constanze" she repeats in her foreign accent. The way she pronounces it make it sound sweeter, new. I find myself lost in my own thoughts for a moment: it's almost like the sound she crafted created a...new version of me. As if this Constanze bears little resemblance to the one her husband sees, trains and takes any occasion to touch. Funny thought, I smile to myself as I ask her to start playing. I take a deep breath and turns towards her as the ever familiar notes of Cherubino's first aria echo in the studio. I look at her for a moment. A pale fleeting ray of sun caresses her dark hair - as dark as the night - while her face twists in concentration. Eyes on the sheet not to miss a note, her fingers move with unexpected grace over the keyboard. I think back of how her husband plays, with confidence and swagger as if he was taming the instrument to his will, to his creative energy and musical mastery. In case the poor instrument could still doubt who the master was. Lia doesn't play like this. Her fingers touch the keyboard with a gentleness I have hardly ever seen in musicians...maybe only Herr Mozart came close when he played a Serenade to his wife at a party. Lia doesn't play the cello, she...strokes it as if it was a dear friend. Or a revered lover. My train of thoughts almost makes me miss my cue. I notice just in time! "I don't know anymore what I am or what I'm doing Now I'm burning, now I'm made of ice Every woman makes me change color Every woman makes my heart pounding" And then...no words come out of my mouth anymore. I know what follows, God I've been singing this aria night and day in my head for days! But the lines get stuck in my throat and a sudden, violent warmth burn my cheeks. I have to lean to the cello for support. My heart is racing, cutting off my breath. The music stops abruptly: Lia must have noticed because she's standing too now. "Oh Constanze, are you unwell?". "I-I'm just..." I start but I don't really know what to say. What's happening to me? Her lips curl into a concerned expression. "This way, take a seat". She gently leads me towards one of the velvet armchairs by the window. Her touch is soft, just enough to sustain me but it sends shivers down my spine. The same happens as our fingers accidentally brush when she hands me a glass of water. I thank her and try to dismiss my sudden failure. It's nothing, I say: maybe I'm a bit tired, the pressure of the upcoming rehearsals kicking in... "You're pushing yourself too hard, Constanze" she comments, smiling weakly. "I suppose getting the jitters before a performance is normal for you opera singers. But you should take care of your health all the same". "You- you're probably right" I nod, my voice still uncertain. Am I losing it out of the blue? It can't be happening...the rehearsals are just round the corner and I'm the understudy, not to mention a goddamn professional! "No no, don't panic now! I'm sure you'll be alright again in no time...here, take deep breaths: in and out, in and out". I look back at her: can she read my mind or am I that pathetically obvious? The thought makes me instantly nervous: there is a reason why I keep people at distance. Women are blamed and despised for their frailty by both men and other members of the fair sex: I abhor and fear the moment someone might catch a glimpse of it in me. What will they think of me then? I search Lia's eyes bracing myself for the worst: pity, disappointment, paternalism...but I find none. Only patient expectancy, genuine concern. No judgement nor well-hidden amusement. So I find myself mimicking her breathing in and out until I actually calm down a little. She invites me to take another sip of water before regarding me pensively. "I am ready to go back to work" I say in the most convincing tone...that sadly doesn't seem to fool her. She flashes me a quick smile and stands in a swift move, walking back to the cello to recover the music sheets. "Actually, I was thinking you could use a break for the day. The news of the departure of Giorgio so close to rehearsals clearly upset you and I can't blame you for that" she comments, joining me once again. "Why don't you come back tomorrow for practicing? A good night rest might do you good and hopefully by then we will have news of Giorgio". She frames her offer with a gentle smile that fails to calm my pounding heart. I take another sip of water to conceal my state. "If you think it's the best course of action..." I sigh, lowering my eyes. "Let's give it a try, Miss Constanze, what do you say?". When I raise my eyes to meet hers, she's no longer looking at me surprisingly. Her gaze is on the music sheets, she's skimming them with a certain curiosity. She almost startles me when she speaks. "So tell me, who is this Cherubino?" she inquires. "He falls in love with every woman or so he says: is he a...how can I say? Don Juan?". "Oh no" I chuckle, more nervously than first intended. "He's just...confused, I think". "Confused?". "Yes, he can't explain what is happening inside him when he's around women, he's distressed...overwhelmed by the whirl of feelings. Something he has never experienced before, I wager". It takes me a moment to process my own words: it's the first time someone asks me to speak of Cherubino. On my own terms. I have only been asked to sing his lines, give him my voice, never my mind and heart. "A love's victim, then" she suggests, pondering. "But not a tragic one". "If you will". "Are his affections reciprocated?". "Yes. Not all maybe. It's hard to tell" I consider, concentrating on what I know of the plot. "Is it?" she flashes a smile, half-amused but pensive. "Well, you may be right. It's not always an easy reading. And tell me, is his love true?". I try to find an answer but I can find none. "I don't know" I shrug. "Oh? How come?" Lia seems genuinely surprised by my words. "He seems to fall in love with every woman in sight...is it what you'd call love?" I try to articulate. "And anyway he never falls for the right one, apparently". She keeps quiet for a moment, considering my answer. Then she shakes her head, half smiling. "It's so typical, right? Falling for those who aren't meant for us.. Who hasn't endured such sweet torture at least once in their life?". "Why, I haven't, Mrs.". When her eyes falls on me, I am almost embarrassed of my blunt comment. I have never felt that way before, I am known for my outspokenness and witty retorts but now they're useless and...out of place. I open my mouth to make it a bit gentler but Mrs. Melchiorri anticipates me. "Consider yourself lucky, then, Miss Constanze. Many cannot say the same...not even your charming Cherubino, apparently". A nostalgic smile lingers on her lips as she adds: "But allow me to say that sometimes unfavourable circumstances don't mean lack of true heart's affection. They only makes it bittersweet, causing a little ache of the heart. I don't know if it can be the case of your character". Her words linger in the air for a moment before she shakes her hand and ushers them away with a dismissive gesture of her hand. "But look at me, wasting your time with matters like these" she flashes me an apologetic smile, standing. "I will see you tomorrow, then?". I wanted to reassure her she isn't wasting my time at all but words get stuck into my throat and she is already calling Franziska. I take my leave mirroring her smile. The turmoil that took hold of me in the music room keeps raging inside my chest on the ride back to my apartment and through the night. What is this? When my maid spots me, she fails to suppress a gasp: do you feel alright, Madam?, she asks. Should she call the doctor? I didn't realise I looked that bad but no, no doctor. I order a light dinner in my room: maybe Lia is right, some rest will do me good. Maybe I was right, I am just tired and stressed by the upcoming rehearsal. However, nothing seems to help to soothe my anguish. I keep playing with my spoon as the soup gets cold, my mind lost somewhere else, away from my room. Cherubino's lines haunt me: "The very mention of love, of delight, Disturbs me, changes me, and Speaking of love, forces on me A desire I cannot restraint!" Never once I've felt that way in my life, troubled and flustered by such a casual topic of conversation like I was in the company of Mrs. Melchiorri. I don't understand. Yet, when I lie in my bed and eventually surrendered to slumber, a vision forms. I remember hearing once that dreams tell the deepest, hidden wishes of our souls, the ones sometimes we don't dare to speak aloud or admit to ourselves. I have never had reason to trust - or doubt, for the matter - the theory until tonight. When night comes and my eyes close, embracing the darkness, I am transported back in Melchiorri's music room. I hear music: Lia is playing and I am sitting with her at the cello, a quiet companion following every move, every note, adoring. Lia's hands stroke the keyboard with a tenderness and a reverence that ignite a longing inside me. It spreads like a fire, tormenting. When the music comes to an end, I can no longer restraint myself. I take her hands into mine and guide them away from the keyboard to my face. They're soft and cold over my burning cheeks.

[tuffin-tuffmuffin]

Day 26 of the Mairiruma Discord Shipfic Challenge Prompt: Having Nightmares Featuring the Bi Disaster herself ----       Her nightmare began the moment the ballroom doors opened. Every demon’s head turned, spotting Azazel Ameri stride into the room, dragging a third wheel on her arm. At least, that’s how Eiko felt.

     She was nothing like the woman she stood next to. Her date was strong. Confident. Beauty was her natural state, just like how heat inhabits a flame. Not Eiko, though. All the makeup and fancy dresses couldn’t hide that she was just an ordinary girl pretending not to be.

     Iruma, the second half of their trio, was nowhere to be seen. All she saw were the crowd’s eyes transforming into knives, piercing her illusion. You don’t belong here, they said. 

     A month ago, Eiko begged for the spotlight. Now, she begged for the darkness again. The tears started rising. Her heart beat itself into a frenzy. She needed to run.

     And so she did. 

   It took her two hours to prepare her makeup for her big debut. Twenty seconds to ruin it. She ran to the nearest bathroom, thankfully empty, and tried and failed to calm her panic. 

     She heard the sound of the door opening.

     In a moment, her date towered over her. She pressed the back of her palm to the smaller girl’s forehead, trying to determine the issue. In the soft lighting, she was beautiful and flawless. Not even her worried expression shook her confident aura, Eiko noticed.

     When Ameri asked her what just happened, an ember of jealousy smoldered against her, followed swiftly by shame at herself. Ameri was so perfect she’d forgotten stage fright was even a thing, though she immediately tried to claim otherwise.

     “I’m sorry,” Ameri said. “You seemed fine beforehand, and I didn’t notice the signs.” She looked away in guilt. “I’m... I’m just as new to this as you are. This is my first relationship, ever.”

     Eiko asked, “Don’t you mean second?” 

     “No, first,” Ameri corrected. Her hand brushed the side of her face, before resting on her shoulder. “It began with you.”

     “But the meetings after school?” Eiko said. “How you two knew each other better than anyone else? Are you saying I lucked out and asked to join a couple that didn’t exist yet?”

     “That’s what I’m telling you.” She said. “You saw what we couldn’t, and I can’t ever thank you enough”

     “Sure, but what about...” Eiko trailed off. 

     “But?” Ameri asked. 

     If that was true, the past month felt even more like a dream. She’d hallucinated more plausible events than what she assumed was her reality. How could it be that both of her secret crushes welcomed her into their arms, pretended nothing was unusual, and put up with everything wrong with her? 

     Ameri listened as Eiko laid bare her irrationalities, concluding, “And you’re worried you’ll wake up from your dream.”

     “Yeah, but I just want to go back to dreaming, because right now is a nightmare. I can’t deal with everyone looking at me like that. Everyone can see it, I’m not worth either of you.”

     Eiko’s mouth ran itself away. “I... I started this knowing I’d be a third wheel. Why shouldn’t I? You’re practically the queen of the school, and Iruma saving me was just the first amazing thing he did, and I’m just... a big rock. A big dumb rock orbiting two stars.”

     “Eiko...”

     “I’m just Iruma’s other, worse girlfriend,” she declared.

   In the mirror’s reflection, she saw a look of genuine hurt cross the taller girl’s face for a moment, before she exhaled it away. Before Eiko could backtrack or apologize, she leaned over, planting a soft kiss on the top of her head. Tame in terms of romantic gestures, but Eiko’s cheeks started to burn. 

     Pressing Eiko’s side into her, she said definitely, “You’re not worse. Just different.” Her tone softened further, and she reminded, “You’re my girlfriend too.”

     Her head went into a tizzy. Obviously they’ve had a relationship for a month, and the feelings that couldn’t possibly be platonic admiration for longer, but hearing someone else say it — hearing Ameri say it— cleared the final mental block of admitting it. Still, admitting a new part of herself was... 

     “...scary,” Eiko finished out loud. “Is this alright, Ameri? My parents still only think I’m with Iruma...”

     Ameri leaned in further, giving her a smug but genuine smile. She was blushing too. “Are you wondering if it’s okay to love another girl after a month of dating her?”   Eiko’s giggle was small, but there. Her phone buzzed in her purse, and she retrieved it. 

     “It’s from Iruma,” she said, and her jitters returned.

   Ameri gingerly took it from her hands. She responded in her stead, letting him know where they were and that she’d be helping Eiko steady herself. He replied back immediately, promising to wait outside for when their little one recovered.

     With that, she put her purse down and looked over her girlfriend in the mirror. She used the few cosmetics in her bag to fix what she could. All Eiko could do was steady her breathing and let her work, silently admiring her the whole while. 

     As she finished, Eiko looked at her reflection again. A bit of her dignity was recovered. Her eyeshadow was gone, replaced by simple eyeliner, but overall she looked decent. Hardly as radiant as the woman next to her, who made a few simple touch ups as Eiko started to babble. 

     “You fixed it. You really did, and I mean, it’s not as good as yours, but it’s... so nice. Thank you. But really, like, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, myself included definitely, though. I think every minute I need to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. Haha”

     Ameri couldn’t properly respond, as she was reapplying her lipstick. She still blushed though. As she finished and capped it, she motioned her over. “Eiko.”

  “—Uh, yes?”

     Ameri pressed her lips into hers. Eiko’s eyes went wide, and she almost jumped back, before closing her eyes and melting into it. 

     It was electric, and shivers danced down her spine as the kiss continued. Right before her mind went blank, she decided even if this was a dream, it’d be worth it.

     Eiko was still unresponsive and humming oddly when Ameri finally pulled away. She waited for Eiko to recover, her warm smile the first thing she saw as her eyes opened. Ameri told her, “That was my first kiss too.” 

     “B-But why?”

   “Because we’re dating, Eiko. All of us. It hurts so much when you call yourself the third wheel.” Then she leaned in again, solidly kissing her right cheek. When Eiko caught her face in the mirror, the cherry-red mark proved Ameri’s conviction.

     “Just in case you’re wondering if it’s real, you can check that anytime,” her girlfriend told her.

     In that moment, nervous energy finally transformed into action. She shot forward, pushing herself up on her tiptoes to reach Ameri’s cheek. The pink color she left behind didn’t stand out as much, but anyone who took a closer look couldn’t possibly miss it.   Ameri pulled her into a quick hug, careful not to ruin the makeup she just fixed, and said, “Look at you. So confident and bold. How does it feel?”

     They turned together, regarding themselves in the mirror. Ameri remained perfect and flawless, but she was no longer impossibly so. The shorter blonde demon next to her simply stood a little straighter and had a goofy grin, but she looked beautiful.

     Eiko’s heart pounded. It wasn’t from fear this time. Simply proper excitement this time.

     Ameri asked, “Ready, Eiko?”

     Her answer was quite, but impossibly strong. “I am.”

      Eiko startled awake, and for a terrifying moment, she thought it really was a dream. As she tried to stand up, she couldn’t move, before her brain processed reality again. 

     She couldn’t move, because she was caught between two bodies. One large and red, the other her size and blue. A sitcom played silently on the screen in front of her, as Iruma and Ameri sandwiched her protectively before they dozed off together. She remembered how they left early when Eiko’s nerves caught up to her again, and opted for a quiet celebration instead. She’d nearly cried at the proof they cared more for her than some silly party.

     Her phone was between her legs. Eiko quickly opened it. Switching to selfie mode, she confirmed that the slightly-smudged lipstick mark remained. She shot them both a smile, before sleep once again took her.  ---- note: I wanted to do something soft and sapphic, but also as close to canon as possible. This is the result. hope you enjoyed the read.

[tightropenuzlocke]

Tightrope: a Y Storylocke

Chapter Three: Bring Wings to the Weak and Bring Grace to the Strong

Neuvartault was larger than Quarellis and far busier even at this early hour. The streets were straight, regular, and lined with stately townhouses that smelled of musty old money. Clearly the municipality contained hordes of wealth deep enough to have the flagstones relaid all neat and flat, enough to maintain the wall around the old city and the château on the hill that still reigned over them long after the lord himself was gone.   Aisling would have to hold out hope for Illumis because none of it held much appeal. However, since looking it up, she had come to appreciate the curving vine motif of all the signs, lampposts, and public benches leftover from the city’s Art Nouveau period. They did a lot to counter the rigidity and dullness of the place. She’d never spared much thought for it before, but maybe there was something to this decorative arts business.

Aisling passed by the grand square with its patinated copper Roselia fountain in favor of the little park on the quieter east end of the main boulevard while Cináed continued to snooze on her shoulder. The Neuvartault Gym was a far more modern building than most of the others, but the architect had been sensible to its surroundings and created a design that reflected the park around it as well as the older buildings across the street. The front was large, regular stonework with tall, arched windows while the back was an enormous glass dome held up by a webbing of steel. “Why exactly are you doing this now?” Cináed asked with a yawn. “I thought for sure you’d want to show off for your new friends.” “Because I want to be first and Serena will wake up any day now and realize she’s more than ready. I can show off the badge to them later.” Cináed eyed her. “Suit yourself.” Aisling glanced down at her belt to turn her face away from him and brushed her fingers over the pokeballs there, settling on the one with a little Lepidopteran motif engraved into the top. It turned out that shininess did not influence the coloration of Vivillon wings beyond giving the scales a more intense iridescent sheen. Dáire had the same deep blue and white of any other polar pattern variant. But her body had stayed a pale cream rather than turn gray, which complemented her wings quite nicely. Which was why Aisling sent her out as they approached the bug-type gym. Although she was now significantly larger than Cináed, Dáire fluttered nervously to Aisling’s other side to avoid his gaze. At least she hit hard since evolving. “I was thinking—” Aisling began. “Dangerous,” Cináed cut in. “What if you battled for the badge?” “Aisling,” he groaned. “It would be so easy for you! You’re already way strong enough and you have every type advantage in the book! We’d be in and out in minutes!” “Aisling, I’m not your pokemon.” “We can go to the Pokemon Center first and get you registered!” He turned away from her. “We’ve been over this. I’m not a battler.” “But you could be!” “I don’t want to.” He took off and landed on a nearby bench. She skipped forward into his line of sight. “But we’ve never even battled against any trainers together. Just one gym and then if you—” “I’m not doing it, Aisling!” He flared his wings for emphasis and his clear note struck her quiet. “I said I’d see you to the first gym and I have! After I watch your match, I’m going home.” Aisling clenched her fists, but couldn’t make her tongue form any words. Dáire fluttered by her shoulder. Aisling could never get a read on that stiff face of hers, but she was watching now instead of hiding. “You’ve got jitters.” Aisling had thought it, but it was Cináed who said it. He bowed slightly, placating. “And I understand, believe me.” She remembered how nervous he had been when they had first started battling, how much she’d needed to reassure him, how she’d punted that one Bunnelby herself when it wouldn’t get off him. “But you don’t need to be. I helped you put this team together and they’re strong enough. They’re ready for this badge. And you have your own strength too—I’ve felt it.” He gestured to his chest, to their bond, to the energy she poured into him when they battled. “That will take you anywhere you want to go.” He was right, she told herself, but she wavered. “You could stay on as a companion pokemon. I wouldn’t make you fight anymore.” Cináed sighed and shuffled his wings. “This move and then this trip with you is more than enough for me. I miss Grace and Raleigh and home. I wasn’t made for adventure.” Her eyes fell and her jaw clenched almost painfully. His white wingtip flitted in front of her nose as he pointed to her. “But you, you’re destined for greatness.” She let her gaze be guided back up to him and he puffed, standing up on his toes with his wrists up to look as big as possible. “You’re gonna show this region things they’ve never seen. You’ll bring them to their knees and carry them on your shoulders. And I’ll be watching. We’ll all be watching you the whole way.” She wasn’t going to cry… And she wouldn’t insist anymore either. “I’m going to miss you terrible, Cináed.” “Same here, Rough Rider. But you’ll call home, won’t you?” “O’course.” “And you can wear my feathers, so I’ll always be with you.” Aisling smiled and sat down on the bench next to him. Cináed hopped back onto her shoulder and nuzzled up against her cheek. She tickled him and then slumped in her seat, letting her head loll back and exhaling a long sigh. Cináed chuckled good-naturedly and Dáire alighted on the lampost to their left. Aisling should never have let her out before she talked to Cináed. Would Dáire say anything to the others? What would she tell them? “Excuse me, Mademoiselle, is that your Vivillon?” It was a gorgeous woman, probably in her thirties, with a pen tucked behind her ear. She wore a short-sleeve jacket with a generous opening at the top and one of those asymmetric, short haircuts that were practically illegal for straight women. “Why yes, she is, Madame.” Those silver jeans should have been illegal too. “I’ve never seen a shiny one before. She’s just lovely!” Aisling hummed and nodded in agreement, sparing not a glance for her pokemon. “Are you going to challenge the gym?” the woman asked, indicating the imposing facade to her right. Aisling straightened from her comfortable sprawl. “Oh, uh…” “You seem like a capable trainer.” A damn sight more than capable. “Why not give it a go?” She could still do this. What the hell was she even worried about? “Yeah, alright.” Cináed snickered on her shoulder, which was fair honestly, but she still brushed him off. “Excellent!” the woman declared, fist raised triumphantly, and Aisling hopped right out of her seat to that rallying cry. “This ought to be good. Let me walk you in.” That seemed a bit odd, but Aisling wasn’t about to argue. “I’m Alexa by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She eagerly accepted the hand offered her. “Aisling. A pleasure to meet you too.” Alexa put her hand on the small of Aisling’s back and she let herself be guided inside and right up to the front desk where she handed over her trainer card to whoever was working there. Cináed alighted beside her and she glanced over her shoulder to see Dáire almost get clipped by the automatic doors for her hesitation. She turned and slouched back against the counter. “Come here often?” “Like a second home,” Alexa said brightly, paying more attention to her registration than Aisling was. “Oh, is this your first gym battle?” “Yeah.” The clerk placed Aisling’s trainer ID back in her open hand. “The first time is always the most exciting!” Alexa leaned on the counter too, resting her chin on her palm. “Are you going to use your Fletching?” “Oh, Cináed?” she asked, pointing her thumb at him. “He’s just a friend.” Alexa laughed at that and Aisling laughed too. Holy shit, she was doing it! Aisling declined the opportunity to battle other trainers first and made sure Dáire was following as Alexa took her past the photo gallery to the middle of the greenhouse where there was a packed-earth battlefield. The air was heavy and full of buzzing wingbeats. Another woman emerged on the other end of the field in a white tank, dull green cargos, and heavy hiking boots. She had an expensive professional camera slung around her neck. “Hey Vi, look what I found!” The woman’s face fell into her hand at the sight of Alexa with her arm around Aisling’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, I hope Al didn’t drag you in here—” In an instant, exasperation and embarrassment gave way to purest excitement. “Is that a shiny Vivillon?!” “Sure is!” Aisling declared with almost as much enthusiasm. “I’ve only ever seen one before, and he was an elegant variant. The shininess plays so much better against the blue here. She’s gorgeous!” Aisling was sorely tempted to say the same thing about the woman in front of her, who was somehow even more attractive than the one she’d come in with. But flirting with the Gym Leader was a bold move even for her, so she just said “thank you” as if it was a compliment about her own appearance… Oops. Viola’s hands were already on her camera. “Would you two be open to some photos?” “I’d be honored, Maîtresse.” “Vi, shouldn’t—” Alexa began to interject. “Right!” Viola let her camera fall back against her chest. “I’m sorry. You’re here for your first badge.” Aisling nodded with somewhat less enthusiasm. “We can talk about my hobby after the match.” “I’d love to.” “But where are my manners?” She offered her hand. “It’s great to finally meet you, Aisling. Xoana and my daughter have been talking about you non-stop. I’m excited to see what you can do!” WHAT?? Why had no one told her this? They probably had and she just wasn’t paying attention. She should have realized it the moment Viola came in. She was literally an older, hotter Serena. Same pale blonde hair and blue eyes, same cheekbones, same perfect hands, same broad, dark eyebrows. The resemblance was uncanny. And now that she had been pulled back to reality, they also looked a lot like the woman she’d come in with. “You gonna stay and watch, Al?” “Of course! Wouldn’t want to miss my big scoop!” She gave Aisling’s shoulder a squeeze before retreating to the edge of the arena. “You’ll have to forgive my twin her terrible journalism jokes. She works for Illumis Press.” Twin? No way. No fucking way! Well, fraternal twins were a thing so it was actually totally possible— For once she stopped her mind from going down that road. She couldn’t afford it right now. She felt hot all over and she couldn’t tell if it was the humidity, confusion, embarrassment, or other feelings anymore. Probably all of it at once. She only barely caught Viola mouthing some kind of reprimand to Alexa as her head stopped swimming. Viola smiled awkwardly to cover it and Aisling was saved from having to try and continue the conversation by Viola’s own readiness to move past it. “Let’s begin!” Viola paced back to her side of the battlefield and put her hands on her hips. This family was going to be the death of her. She could feel it. “Ready Aisling?” It was going to take days. “You know it!” Viola pulled a ball from one of her many pockets and released a Surskit onto the field. “Alright, Dáire, let’s go.” The Vivillon dipped in the air and turned away from the field to look at Cináed, perched on a branch. Her antennae bobbed nervously and then she shook her head at Aisling. “Come on, not now,” Aisling hissed. “You’ll do fine!” Dáire backed away and shook her head even more emphatically. “You’re embarrassing me!” Aisling whined as quietly as she could. Dáire beat her wings, blowing air in Aisling’s face, and let out a chirping click. “She’s not going to do it Aisling,” said Cináed. Aisling glared at her for another beat and the Vivillon didn’t budge. “Fine.” But they were going to have a talk later. “Everything alright over there?” Viola called. “Fine! Dáire’s just a bit sensitive about getting wet. I’ll use someone else for the Surskit!” Aisling considered the other options on her belt. Emer was willing, but couldn’t take a hit worth a damn and couldn’t really deal one either. Bree could probably handle it, but her accuracy wasn’t great yet and she had a type disadvantage. Gobán had the least experience, but the Dunsparce had proven hardy. Aisling let her out. “You ready to win the badge for us?” Gobán looked between Aisling and her opponent, and her wings vibrated. She did one of her little spins that meant she was not only ready, she was stoked. Good. “Gobán use Rollout!” The Dunsparce covered herself in a rocky shell and barreled forwards like a runaway tire. The Surskit was fast and light on her feet, so she waited until Gobán was almost upon her before dodging easily out of the way. By all accounts Rollout was a bit crude in the hands of a beginner and quite difficult to master, but Gobán was almost serenely graceful. She turned on a dime, drifting like a pro racer and kicking up an elegant wave of dirt that Viola captured on her high-speed camera. The Surskit pelted her with explosive bubbles, but it wasn’t even enough to slow her down and this time there was no escape. The torque sent the Surskit arcing through the air and spinning on her antena where she landed. Viola let go of her camera long enough to withdraw her and send out a Vivillon of her own. This one was shades of pink and not really Aisling’s aesthetic, but pretty nonetheless. The palette would suit Xoana well. “Keep up your momentum and wait for my signal!” Aisling commanded. Viola and her Vivillon went for Bug Buzz to weaken and disorient Gobán, but it didn’t matter. When Aisling called, the Dunsparce launched herself into the air with a flick of her tail, coiling again before impact for maximum speed and spin. The Vivillon plummeted like a stone while Gobán glided lightly down on her small, translucent wings, shedding the rocky remains of her attack onto her opponent as she spiraled. The Vivillon fluttered one wing weakly, unable or unwilling to rise. Viola withdrew her pokemon. “Good work as always, Gobán.” The Dunsparce hummed as she slithered back to Aisling’s side. “Fantastic! Just fantastic!” Viola cried, striding across the arena. “You had me worried with that last-minute switch, but it looks like you’ve been working with your whole team.” “O’course.” It didn’t matter that Aisling had made Gobán practice Rollout mostly to improve Bree’s skill with the move. Or that she had never intended to have her Dunsparce in this battle. She had proven herself and so had Gobán. Maybe it was time to consider a new role for her. “I must say that was quite impressive for a first badge match, even with that little snag at the beginning.” Aisling tried not to wince. Of course she noticed. How could she not? “Hopefully your Vivillon will be more up for a battle next time. Pokemon all have their own fears, quirks, and preferences but sometimes all they need is a little encouragement to expand their horizons. Being on a trainer’s team is very different than being wild, after all.” Aisling was beginning to think Dáire might need more than encouragement. “And it’s very important to listen to your pokemon the way you did. I don’t imagine you can understand them perfectly after so short a time, but you are communicating and that’s essential.” Aisling would be doing plenty of communicating with Dáire after this was over. “You and your Dunsparce are really quite in sync for how green you are.” It was a lucky shot, but Aisling was good at those. “Even more impressive considering you have five pokemon already. That’s a lot for a beginner to handle and normally I’d advise against it, but you’re clearly managing them well. Here’s the Bug Badge.” Aisling accepted the bright, beetle pin and took a moment to admire it against her palm. Her insides twisted, but not in a nice way—not the way they should be after being complimented by a gorgeous woman and winning her first badge. “Thank you.” “Now I know your Vivillon wasn’t up for getting doused, but would she be willing to do an impromptu photo shoot?” “She’d love to.” ... Xoana tapped her foot against the polished wood of the gallery floor as she looked up at Aisling’s confident grin. She probably should have known this photo would be up already after how excited Mme Pascal had been at dinner the other night. Xoana always liked coming in here, seeing what Viola was working on and what sort of pokemon had come through. Serena’s attempts at photography had long since been taken down as per her request, though a few were preserved among the family photos in the family’s front hall. A few of Xoana’s were there too. Serena had never really had the patience to follow her mother down that path. Xoana had pursued it for longer, surpassed where Serena had stopped, but she had never done anything for long enough to become truly skilled. Nor did she excel at anything the way Serena excelled at sports and academics and battling. Viola had taken decades to hone her craft, worked until she could capture motion, vitality, and spirit with a still image. It was almost like meeting the pokemon and people in the photographs, except that one had permission to study every detail. Dáire really did look stunning with that beam of sunlight making every scale of glitter shine like a dewdrop. Aisling was in matching colors with gold dust twinkling between her freckles. She looked like a model—or like how a model should look: all self-assurance and pleasure, staring right at the viewer in challenge with just a hint of warmth in her cheeks. “Mme Bellamy,” Andre announced over the speaker, “Gym Leader Viola is ready for your badge battle.” Xoana looked down at Froabble, who blew bubbles out of his nose at her. She took a deep breath and walked into the greenhouse. The air inside was always wonderfully full of life and smells and oxygen. The heat and humidity may have been a bit much for some, like Tessa who yawned loudly to adjust to the change in atmosphere, but Xoana and her Froakie welcomed it. Viola was waiting for them on the opposite end of the arena and Xoana’s friends waited on the park benches on either side. Tierney cheered and the others followed suit. Even Tracie clapped, from the safety of her oversized hoodie and legs pulled up inside her skirt while Tierney hollered next to her. Serena felt obliged to pile assurances atop Tierney’s from her perch beside a comfortably sprawled Aisling. “I’m excited to finally face you, Xoana,” said Viola warmly. “Are you ready?” “Yes, Maîtresse!” Xoana didn’t breathe until her first opponent was released—a Karrablast. He brandished his horn, thick carapace gleaming in the sun. “Go Tessa!” Nothing happened. The Teddiursa wasn’t paying attention. Viola didn’t wait for Xoana decide what to do about it. The Karrablast charged. And suddenly, barreling right for her with violent intent, it wasn’t cute anymore. This was crazy! What on earth was she doing here? What should she do?? Fortunately, the Karrablast’s aggression did hold Tessa’s attention and she planted herself between Xoana and the oncoming beetle, teeth bared in an uncharacteristic snarl. She grabbed him by the horn and threw him to the ground. The Karrablast rolled right back to his feet but by then Xoana had the presence of mind to issue an actual command. The two pokemon boxed back and forth with Fury Swipes and Fury Cutter, neither gaining the upper hand—or paw. Tessa was slugged repeatedly but she stayed standing and kept herself between Xoana and her opponent with a relentless and wild fervor. Tessa’s usually round face pulled into angry lines as she bellowed. Her once soft paws stretched into claws. Her cuddly frame knocked the Karrablast to the ground like a battering ram splintering a castle gate. Xoana yelled encouragement even as her gut twisted up watching it. Was this the same pokemon she had befriended? It couldn’t be. Tessa wouldn’t be here without her. She wouldn’t be battling at all. She wouldn’t be rearing and smashing the Karrablast into the dirt over and over until he squeaked in defeat. Just like that, she was back—limping back to Xoana with a cautious smile and soft eyes searching her face, making sure she was okay. Xoana kneeled and hugged her and told her how well she had done. Tessa snuffled her ear and patted her between the shoulders. But the battle wasn’t over. Froabble had already taken his place on the field and Viola sent out a Vivillon—a garden pattern decked in warm shades of green. Froabble leapt the same moment she called to him. The Vivillon’s Gust missed but made Froabble’s Bubble go wide. The Vivillon dipped back and forth, re-evaluating, and when Frobble leapt again, she anticipated his move and hit I’m dead on with Infestation. Froabble hit the ground hard, writhing as the tiny insects swarmed him. There was nothing she could do to help him. The Vivillon hovered over him, eyes glowing as she urged her minions on. “Come on, Xoana!” Aisling was sitting up now, both feet planted and leaning towards the edge of her seat. She met Xoana’s eyes boldly, poured something into her with that stare. Heat coursed through her. She could help Froabble by finishing the battle, by winning. She had a strategy. Last night Serena had noticed the nervousness in her face and shoulders and addressed it in that almost tactful way she sometimes had. She had endured Xoana’s babbling and frantic pacing with the patience and equanimity she kept stored for her friends and pokemon. She had been gentle where she could be, direct when she needed to be. And now Serena was there cheering for her. She always was. Xoana commanded Froabble with borrowed confidence and turned the battle with borrowed smarts. Froabble zigzagged with his signature speed, dodging any further attacks and getting close enough to repeatedly soak the Vivillon’s wings. She sunk under the added weight and when she was low enough, Froabble leapt above her and bore her to the ground. The infestation left him, signaling the Vivillon’s surrender. Xoana’s friends whooped, hollered, whistled, and clapped. The pokemon cheered too. Emer was bouncing high on her tail and squeaking at the top of her voice. Froabble jumped into her open arms. “Nice battle!” Aisling’s compliment somehow rang above the others. “I wasn’t expecting that awesome strat after you and Tessa just brute-forced the Karrablast.” That was because it wasn’t hers. Or maybe she was being a bit unfair to herself. Serena hadn’t actually told her what to do, just steered her thinking in the right direction. “Thanks!” “Well done, Xoana!” Viola congratulated warmly. “You’ve got a great connection with your pokemon already. I couldn’t be prouder.” Aisling smirked at her over Viola’s shoulder, smug vindication smeared across her visage. But the reason for it and the faint glow rising to Aisling’s cheeks forced a grin onto Xoana’s face. She’d yet to stop insisting that Xoana had real potential as a trainer and this battle hadn’t convinced her otherwise. It was tough to be sure about Tessa, but Froabble was a natural battler—that focus, assurance, and pure athleticism. If he hadn’t gone to her, he would have gone to some other trainer. He was going to be great and maybe she could help him get there. “That was fun,” Froabble declared as if he could read her thoughts. “Thank you, Xoana.” Xoana startled all of them with her giddy shriek but she didn’t care. She danced around with Froabble held high, yelling “he talked!” over and over. It was stupid, because all pokemon talked, but she finally understood him. And she couldn’t wait to have a conversation.

[aliesteem]

An Immensely Through Fine Dining Experience from the Brokest College Student Ever.

I’ve recently broken into my old, student email and was reunited with the dozens and dozens of papers I’ve written about dining in Culinary school. These papers scored me A’s and made me realize I possibly do have a future in writing. I’m still proud nearly two years later so I thought I’d share. Enjoy!

Introduction

I am a college student and with that, it’s practically needless to say that I am also broke, very broke. I, however, through great resilence have maintained my champagne dreams enough to actually see a fine dining experience. This is NYC, there had to be one I could afford. In my heavy search the top, three included Tocqueville, Del Posto, and Le Bernardin. These three I took into consideration because of there more affordable price range, beautiful display, and interior design I’ve seen online and (or) its popularity online. It was  Tocqueville that caught my eye. Located 1 East 15th Street in Manhattan, NYC. Tocqueville was most affordable as if they were thinking of college students like me who dreamt of a mouthful of caviar. The others came with a hefty price tag, ones that honestly made very nervous. To me, a $10 burrito Chipotle sounds like a luxury so you can imagine my reaction in finding out Le Bernardin restaurant that costs over $87 for its pri-fixe menu. It doesn’t sound like a shocking expense to some but on this side of the fence, it is.  Del Posto was a little more affordable at $50 but it still wasn’t in my price range.  Luckily, Tocqueville provided the most inexpensive pri-fixe menu only costing $36 for a three-course menu. I felt relieved. I decided this restaurant is my final choice.

Tocqueville, named after the French political sociologist and theorist is owned by husband and wife Marco Moreira and Joann Makovitzky who also own new restaurants 15th East and The Fourth in the same city. With no trouble found I found that the Chef is Jason Lawless on StarChefs.com. He has managed the kitchen since August 2011. The restaurant itself has been opened since 2000 and in seventeen years it has built its reputation of being one of the most innovative French-American restaurants in New York City. You can see from how modern chic yet classic they truly are by their restaurant design. From the photographs provided on the official website, tocquevillerestaurant.com - the look of the restaurant is a cool but clean creamy white and black color scheme. I can tell it is a place that provides excellence a traditional fine dining restaurant would hold but pulls themselves away from being boring and ordinary. I adore the minimalistic and classic take. Their dishes and plating looked absolutely sparkling as well. The picture heading the page of their menu category was the Grilled Filet of Beef. A pearly white plate of succulent meat topped with small diced tomatoes, red onion and herbs were appetizing enough for me to set a reservation for a party of two with a close friend.  

`Making the reservation was fairly easy. Once I called a person who sounded to be a young woman answered sweetly. I asked to make a reservation and she was very quick and efficient. There wasn’t any of the run around that I had anticipated. The space I wanted was open. It didn’t take any more than say four minutes. I was surprised. I expected the restaurant to be packed with reservations especially on a Friday. We talked for a short while after about what will partake once I arrived. The phone call was my first experience with Tocqueville’s true hospitality. It made me all the more comfortable with coming in and dining.  

My expectations in visiting Tocqueville are sky-high. For one, it is a fine dining restaurant. I’ve never been to one. This is exciting, I want it to be fascinating. Above all, I am looking forward to the food. Since I’m a meat and a wine lover the Red Wine Braised Short Rib sounds appetizing. I cannot wait. There is a bit of nervousness about the way the employees will treat me, however. I am visibly very young and a person of color. I sometimes feel when I enter nice places that I’m not supposed to be there. I feel like the oddball. In past experiences the waiters did nothing to eliminate that feeling, making me more unsettled with long stares and awkward treatment. Other guests dining had body language that expressed that I was ruining the atmosphere for them.  I hope that doesn’t happen this time but as always I am remaining positive. From what I know now Tocqueville is a beautiful restaurant with a kind, warm friendliness. I’m counting down the days till the visit.  

The Visit

I woke up a Friday morning with a Ferris Buller-type charisma and energy. I was going to visit a beautiful fine dining restaurant in the city! I have never been to a French restaurant before much less one that was seemingly so elegant. I had the jitters. What should I wear? How should I do my hair? Which train should I take? Is my friend going to be on time? Did I give her the right directions? A million and one questions running through my head. I thought I ought to relax my nerves before I begin my day. I snugged my feet into my orange fluffy slippers and made my way to the kitchen. I picked a Lavender Jasmine mix tea from my collection to boil. Tea always soothes the soul. I brought my mug to the window and looked out for a moment. The day was chilly, sunny but very chilly. “How am I going to dress nicely and still be warm?” I asked myself then take a short sip. I was still nervous but pushed to let it go and know everything will go well.  

My reservation was at 12pm sharp for lunch. It was already about 8am and I know how slow I can be with getting ready in the morning so I start right away. I jump into the hot shower, brush my teeth and prep my skin with scrubs and cleansers for makeup. I hop out, dry off, put most of my day’s clothes on and begin to do my makeup. This takes the longest out of getting ready. I try to see if I can get it done within 30 minutes' time. Nope! It took me almost an hour because I kept messing up but luckily I started early so I was still in good time. I decide on a long, oversized, grey sweater that flows over my black leggings. I pair it jet black heels. Next, was my hair, I have natural, kinky curly hair that usually needs lots of attention but yesterday I braided it up. All l had to do now was unravel them so they can come out fluffy and defined. Once all my clothes were on, fully moisturized, fixed my hair and makeup done and feeling confident to step outside it is 10am. I get a text from my friend, who I invited to dine with me.  “I don’t know what to wear!” she texts. She thinks she’s going to be late. I knew it but I didn’t stress. I tell her don’t think too much in it, just wear something nice but no jeans or sneakers. She tells me she’ll figure it out. I just hope she makes it on time. I make sure everything around the apartment is tidy and in order before I head out the door. I text my mother that I am leaving to go to the restaurant since she’s already at work. She texts me “Good luck!” and I’m out the door.  

I live on a very popular, main street in Brooklyn. It’s loud and lively this time of day. People are heading to work and school in droves. Walking down the block to catch the A train I run into a family friend I haven’t spoken to in a long time. So long, in fact, I can’t even remember her name but her face is vivid in my memory. She asks how I am. I tell her about school and how much I love majoring in Hospitality Management since I’ve transferred from the old school. I keep in mind the time and explain to her I’m on my way to somewhere important and have to get going. She reminds me to say hello to my mother for her and I rush into the train station. Luckily the train arrives immediately. I’m not a train girl not in the least. I know it’s the New York way but I love traveling on an empty bus as oppose to a crowded train with performers yelling “It’s Showtime!” in my ear. It’s not my cup of tea. While I’m on the train I read a Pete Wells article I’ve pointed out. I need to know his review for a class. I’m really into it because I’m a fan of sushi. It’s one of my absolute favorites. The good read distracts me from the groups of people stuffing themselves into the cart along with the street entertainers swirling on poles above my head. I’m thankful.  

My stop is a Fulton Street which I switch over to a 4 or 5 train because it gets me to Union Square under ten minutes. Once I climb out of the train station I check my phone. There’s a text from my friend she says she needs more time but is about to get on the train now! It was 11:23am and we planned to meet at 11:30am. I guessed she lost track of time. I decided to find a way. I am kind of scared to walk in so I wait right outside the restaurant to wait for my friend meanwhile taking a few pictures of my own. It’s nearly 12pm but she is nowhere in sight. 

I go inside to introduce myself to a woman who I believe is the Maître d’ of the restaurant. I tell her my reservations and how I am a student doing a report. Her face suddenly gleams in a huge smile and asks if I talked to Roger. I express I don’t know who Roger is even though I feel I should know. She tells me to sit down which she gets him for me. In a few minutes, Roger is in front of me. A short, well-suited older man with blonde white hair. I don’t recognize him but he says he’s a professor at my school. He begins to ask me questions about wine. I was taken aback a little because I wasn’t expecting it. I tell him my Wine & Beverage professor that I’m taking now, Professor Aliah. I convey how much I’m enjoying her class and all the elements in detail there is to wine-making. It turns out Professor Roger is a Master Sommelier. I wished I said more about wine to him but I was so nervous I’m not used to settings like these.  My friend still wasn’t there after the talk with Roger. I told him I’d wait a bit longer she is supposed to come any second and he told me to take all the time I need. In the meantime, I took pictures and looked around the restaurants outside and the entryway. The name of the dining establishment is printed white on a black sight like a tent over the sidewalk.  The door where the guest enter is made up of all glass. It is chic, modern and simplistic. The Maitre D’s desk in the reception appeared tall, sleek, dark wood tabletop with a shiny, brown wooden, dimmed lamp. There are also award plaques and photos framed all along the wall. Their awards included the 2016 Forbes Magazine’s Restaurant with the highest rating. Best of Award of Excellence 2016 by Wine Spectacular and a 4.8 out of 5 from Zagat 2017. The restaurant is not just popular but highly respected and celebrated, making its way to more great success is that they’ve been recently recommended by the Michelin Guide in 2016.  

-

 I looked at the time on my phone and it said 12:30am. Since I was already checked in I figured I was safe from losing my reservation but I opted to seat in the dining room than to take up space in the front seating area any longer. To get to the dining room one needed to pass by the bar. The bar designed with a black and silver color scheme was the most modern section in the restaurant. On the bar top sat a huge marble vase filled with light blue, yellow and pastel green orchids that touched the ceiling. Soothing French jazz spilled gently out of the above speakers. The ambiance, graceful and contemporary. I was in awe. I actually hoped I could have my lunch there.   As soon as I sat down Roger offered me water and the front server – who name escapes me handed me a menu. I told him I wanted to wait for a friend. He was very kind and understood. Pouring the water I realize the glasses were short, open chalice glasses, still easy to hold by them small stem. It was fifteen minutes later when I heard my friend’s voice speaking to the Maitre D’ in the reception area. Seconds later she came walking in the dining area and sat down. She apologized for the lateness. I’ve been late to her events before so I could only be so upset. Seconds later the front server returned to hand us menus.

-

The menus were the longest menus I’ve seen. The outside a smooth olive green, the outside a yellow and cream menu with a folder style with all its printed dishes in bold and script. The front server in his black and white uniform finished with a sharp blue tie read over some of the meals that were listed. I appreciated his attentiveness. His body language was confident, alert to where I was impressed by his time and time again throughout the service. He was very efficient when scanning the room and our table. I took the opportunity to ask him the style of the napkin fold, neither did Professor Roger. “We simply make up the style,” he told me. The back server then came up to us from a side station behind the elongated gold curtains and offered bread. I was watching his Frenching style closely. He did it so quickly, it looked easy for him. When I attempt it in class I often lose the stability of the utensils in my hand. I chose the focaccia which was scrumptious. It was dense but not overbearing with flavor. The focaccia was filled with olives, spices, herbs and was beyond incredible with the home-made butter. I asked for another.  

-

My friend and I talked about our morning getting ready and caught up with each other’s lives since we haven’t talked in a month. In perfect timing, the front server came to take our orders. We picked two courses from the pri-fix menu. I ordered the Organic Potato and Baby Leeks Soup as an appetizer and a Red Wine Braised Short ribs entrée. As we waited for our meals and the back server pointed each of our tables I observed the dining area. The dining area was mildly lit from the light gold, sparkling crystal chandelier from above. The walls were a warm yellow with rich, gold curtains to match. The seats were made up of a comfortable cool silver, velvet. My attention was grabbed by the gigantic paintings on the wall that was created by an artist named Cheryl Roy Starer. The abstract art stood up on the walls so stunning with its blends of green, blue and white. It was a conversation piece definitely.  We were met with a unique hors d'oeuvres compliments of the Chef. It’s a fresh new take on the Southern-known treat. It’s a toasted golden brioche topped with the cooked yolk and whites of a quail eggs and finished with Alabama caviar.  The deviled eggs we centered on an all-white porcelain dish designed by Bernardaud Classic Silverware. This was my first time having caviar. The flavors delicate and salty reminded me of sardines in a way. The texture was cold creamy goodness. I wished I could have more. As we scrapped the crumbs from whatever was left of the exquisite deviled egg dish the back server approached us again to offer more bread. This reminded me of my Dining Room class where we service almost the same exact way, consistently offering our guest all the bread and quail eggs whites hard-boiled finished with Alabama caviar.  The deviled eggs centered on an all-white porcelain dish designed by Bernardaud Classic Silverware. This was my first time having caviar. The flavors delicate and salty, reminded me of sardines in a way. The texture was cold creamy goodness. I wished I could have more. As we scrapped the crumbs of whatever was left of the exquisite deviled egg dish the back server approached us again to offer more bread. I was waiting. 

-

This reminded me of my Dining Room class where we service almost the same exact way, consistently offering our guest all the bread they’d like. It was nice to be on the other side of the service. I chose the focaccia again. I could not get enough. This time however I was able to dip it into the Potato Leek soup which arrived moments later. When I first saw the bowl it was only filled with sautéed’ black mushroom and a miniature leek in the center of the bowl. I thought to myself there must be a mistake. Turns out the front server came prepared with a tiny creamer pitcher and poured the creamy soup into the bowl right in front of me. It was original and added a special touch. To be completely honest, I was expecting the soup to be bland. I’ve had potato soups so lackluster I pushed myself to finish a bowl. This wasn’t the case. The soup was luscious and silky, earthy with just enough seasoning. The soup was so harmonious with my pallet I was tempted to lick the bowl. I reminded myself I was in a very classy place but it was difficult not to, simply divine! When the entrée arrived I was the most enthusiastic. I am a huge meat lover. Anything meat I am a fan of. I’ll choose it over anything in the menu. I looked at the plate in front of me. The dish appeared kind of odd. My image of short-ribs wasn’t this. The dish came in a wide, circular plate. The meat of short rib formed in a rectangle, an island centered in the middle of potato puree. The short rib was glossed over with a deep brown red wine sauce that resembled chocolate. A lady sitting across from our table asked what dessert we ordered. We told her it was actually an entrée and she was surprised. On top of the short rib sat a roasted pearl onion and cylinder chunks of buttered carrots. The short rib melted on my fork as I cut through it. It was wonderfully tender, I didn’t need a knife. The flavor was robust, the sauce adding a vigorous taste of richness. Swirling a piece of the meat through the potato puree and putting it in my mouth it felt like I was eating butter. It has to be the most well-presented, heavenly dishes I’ve experienced in recent years.  Unfortunately, I was unable to order a dessert since I was on such a strict budget. Next time I’d make sure to experience the sweet parts of their cuisines. 

-

It took a while before the check came and I appreciate that. Usually, the front server passes the check to me as soon as the last fork bite leaves my mouth and I find it disrespectful. It hints that the server wants you to hurry up and leave completely killing the feeling of hospitality. My friend and I were fully ready to go when the bill came. It came up to $63.15 for both of us, not too pricey. We decided to tip 20% then we were on our way out but not before I could check out the bathrooms. There were three available bathrooms in the restaurant. One upstairs, one ground level and the other downstairs. I chose the downstairs bathroom. The staircase down was dark with small, glowing gold light to lead the way. The bathroom was covered in light and dark brown marble. The look gave a beach house theme added with the beige weaved baskets and dried plants spray painted gold. The vases were filled with white seashells. The walls were a sexy, dark gold against a shiny, wide mirror. The light was too dimmed, however. I couldn’t see myself as clearly as I would like. The bathroom was also extremely clean, immaculate even. I could tell the restaurant as a whole took tidiness and organization seriously.  I enjoyed myself thoroughly at this restaurant. The ambiance and décor gave me what I wanted, fully satisfying my eyes as well as mouth with every savory dish. I’m glad I decided to come here as opposed to other establishments. It was affordable yet delivered an essence of great fine dining. I plan on going with another friend for a celebration. I’ll try everything I had my eye on the second time around. The restaurant met all expectations and taught me an extra thing or two about quality service. It ensured a tranquil sense of hospitality and an intuitive and refreshing strategy in service. I’d recommend the restaurant to absolutely anyone.  

[bunysliper]

The set of Nathan & Stana pics from the EW shoot are still among my favorite pics of them of all time. Especially & including the fun and funny outtakes. Ever thought of writing a Caskett fic based on these pics? Castle dragging Beckett along for a public/private photoshoot? Thanks for all the continued fic!

Hi Anon! I know it’s been a while, but I hope you like this!

Depth of Field

A Season 6 ficlet, set prior to Dressed to Kill

She plans, plots, and schemes for close to three weeks beforefinally cluing him in. it’s outside her comfort zone, but Rick will love itand she loves him, so she summons some of her old sense of bravado and makes ithappen for him.

Castle gawks the day she pushes the sheet of paper over, liftinghis eyes to watch her, to make sure he’s seeing what he thinks he’s seeing.

“Really?” he asks.

Kate hums, leaning over his shoulder, reading along with him.“Really,” she murmurs, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Ithought if Paula wanted to use some of the tamer ones in the future, she could.You know, to show you aren’t getting boring with married life, and keep thegroupies off our backs.”

Rick grins, squaring his shoulders at the reminder that they’rereally getting married. She grins back, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She knowsthe feeling, it hits her at the most random times that she is going to bemarrying Richard Castle very soon.

But first, they’re going to take some sexy photos together.Nothing too risqué; the photographershe’s hired has promised they’ll be sensual and fun, even indicating that she’swilling to let them call the shots and veto anything they might not want to do,but sexy is a guarantee.

“This is going to be awesome,” Castle insists,practically leaping off the chair in his haste to get to their bedroom.

“I’m going to shower and get ready. What time is ourappointment?”

“Soon. You better shower quickly.”

He grins, turning around in the doorway to their room. “Youknow, if you wash my back, the shower might go faster.”

It won’t, but she follows him anyway.

The nerves hit her later, as they step into the studio andRick’s enthusiasm grows more boisterous. It’s been a long time since she’s beenin front of the camera, that ridiculous Cosmo shoot for Heat Wave’s promotion notwithstanding.

“This is going to be awesome,” her fiancé buzzes,looking around the studio.

Kate hums, rubbing her hands together. “Why don’t yougo change?” she murmurs, taking a deep breath and getting it together.This is her show, her gift to him; a little bit of camera fright won’t ruinthat. She hands him a bag she’d packed while he wasn’t looking. “I’ll findLeslie and see what she needs from us to get set up.”

Rick nods, taking the bag. “Are you changing too?”

Her lips lift, and she takes a step toward him, brushinghis cheek with hers. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

The look on his face when she steps out in fishnets, heels,and one of his white shirts manages to banish the rest of her jitters. He looksstunned, bowled over, astonished, but best of all, a little heated and a lotplayful. Perfect.

“You like?” she asks, stepping up to toy with histie, loosening it ever so slightly. His hands fall to her hips, drawing hercloser.

“I like. I like very much.”

Kate touches her lips to his, giving his tie a tug. “Good.Now, I was told to tell you to wait on the bed because Leslie has something foryou first.”

Her fiancé nods, dusting another kiss to her mouth. “I’llbe there.”

She nods, watching him make his way to the lush set up. Hegreets Leslie with an easy smile and a comment Beckett doesn’t hear. It earnshim a laugh as he flops back against the plush, brightly colored pillows.

Leslie snaps a few photos of him like that, grinning back atKate. She hides a laugh in the palm of her hand; yeah, this is a perfectpresent for her show-off fiancé.

Over the next couple of hours, they pose together andseparately, taking what must be hundreds of photos, both sensual and silly. Shefinds herself at ease for both, curling into her partner’s side, giggling athis antics – the way he uses her hair as a mustache, his feigned shock when sheruns her fingers up his side – and releasing a contented sigh when their eyes meetand she sees the warmth and adoration in his gaze.

“Having fun?” she asks as Leslie moves away tofiddle with the lighting. Rick squeezes her fingers gently, his chin lowering.

“This is amazing, Kate. Thank you.”

She touches her lips to his knuckles, stretching up tosmudge a soft kiss over his mouth.

“Oh, that’s perfect, guys. That’s the best one today,”Leslie says from behind the camera. “I think that’s a wrap.”

Rick’s smile widens. “In that case, we’ll have to frameit.”

“Yeah,” Kate agree, brushing his cheek. She sitsup, feeling Rick’s hand trail down her back. “Thanks, Leslie.”

“Thank you, guys. This was so much fun.”

Beckett nods. “It really was. And I have to say, itbrought back memories.”

Castle’s hand stills. “Memories?”

Oops. Well, he was going to find out eventually. She twists,looking at him through lowered eyelids. “Tell you at home.”

He grins. “I look forward to that. And to seeing theproofs, Leslie.”

Their photographer smiles. “I’ll start working on themtonight and get everything to you asap.”

“Perfect,” Kate says, sliding to her feet,wiggling her nearly-bare toes on the industrial concrete floors. “Is thereanything else you need from me today?”

Leslie waves her off. “You’re good, Kate. Go getchanged and I’ll make sure I have your information when you come back.”

She nods, starting toward her changing room, knowing Castle’snot far behind her.

Sure enough, his arm winds around her waist as soon as thedoor closes behind them.

“Kate, this was…” he trails off, touching his lipsto the back of her neck. “Thank you.”

Leaning into him, Kate reaches back and winds her arm aroundhis neck. “Glad you liked it. I wasn’t sure if it would be too cheesy, ortoo much like a press photo shoot.”

He snorts. “Hardly. Those are work; they can be enjoyable,but they’re still work. This was fun, real.”

She smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m glad youliked it.”

“Mmm,” he agrees, swiping his mouth over her skin,swaying to some imaginary tune. “But don’t think my gratitude is so greatthat you’re going to get out of telling me what you mean by memories.”

She just laughs, squeezing him. “Sure, Babe.Sure.”

[dhabitahpunk-art]

Hey guys! I’ve decided to make a “how I paint skin” tutorial. It is quite a detailed step by step tutorial so strap yourselves in for this one! Also, it’s step by step because I want to teach you how to pick your own skin color palettes and shading, and take no shortcuts!! This will go a long way, guys!

Just a disclaimer: I am no expert in painting skin realistically but these are just different things I’ve picked up from my fav artists and tweaked them to suit my style.

1. First step is to make your sketch. I suggest that you also use a reference of a real person for this practice. References help a lot! Don’t be afraid to also use the eyedropper tool as this will teach you a lot about skin color palettes!

(I know my ref image is not a real person, shush. XD He still looks realistic enough. Haha.)

2. Now, usually, I will duplicate the sketch layer and paint it dark red. I will turn off the original sketch layer and use it for back up later just in case we need it.

Okay! Let’s get started with picking your color palette! I pretty much don’t have a standard skin palette as I’m someone who likes to do things from scratch and then just go with the flow. I’ll go through more on that later on in this tutorial.

I usually start with this kinda desaturated orange. This will be our base for now.

3. Now, this next color will be, I would say the slightly lighter parts of the skin (but not quite the highlights). This color will slightly be even less saturated compared to the previous color.

Also, it will be more towards yellow.

4. Next color is the highlight. This is pretty much close to white and ever so slightly to yellow.

5. For the dark shadows of the skin, there’s two types: The more reddish tones and the more ‘bluish’ tones.

For the red ones, I would put my color wheel closer to red and darker than the base color.

6. For the dark cold shadows, I will move the color wheel even more closer to magenta and then make it very desaturated, almost like a gray.

Quick Summary:

Here’s a simple annotation of what my color picking looks like most of the time for a normal portrait with normal lighting.

As a rule of thumb, the dark shadows and highlights will be almost desaturated, and the base color is the most saturated.

7. Alright. Now, let’s make a new layer below the sketch layer. Paint in the base color.

8. Now, personally, since I want my character to have a fairer skin, I think my base color is a bit too ‘tanned’. This is why I say, I tend to just go with the flow and not always use a fixed skin palette.

But anyways, I will just desaturate it a bit (remember, the lighter the skin color, the more desaturated it will be).

Then, I just increase the brightness a bit.

9. Let’s start with painting the dark red parts. These are the parts where you can see the blood underneath the skin more visibly. So, around the eyes, below the cheeks and at the tip of the nose. Not the cast shadow of the nose, though!!

10. Now, let’s paint the cast shadows. Cast shadows tend to have that cold bluish shadow we picked out just now. So like below the neck, below the nose (or any cast shadow from the nose).

Over here, I feel like the tone is a bit too bluish and almost too light (since we did increase the brightness just now).

After adjusting the tone:

So, I will just adjust is a bit to be darker and maybe slightly a bit more red. Isn’t it weird how it looks cold but if you use the color picker, it’s actually in the reds? Skin colors be crazy, y’all. Our eyes like to play tricks with us. -.-

11. Now, that I’ve adjusted the cast shadow color, let’s start painting over the shadows.

12. Now, paint in the lighter color from the base color over the cheekbones, the bridge of the nose, chin, and above the eyebrows. Please refer to your reference for this!

13. Let’s start blending. Now, I have made my own blending brush here. It kinda creates a textured skin look. You can play around with ‘jitter’ or ‘spacing’ in your program to get this kinda texture.

As I go along, I will add in more shadows where I see fit. For example, my character is a male, so he has more cast shadows below his eyebrow (around his eye socket). I also use a gray to paint in the eyes.

14. This next step is gonna be a bit scary for some of you especially if you’re a beginner! And that is merging your sketch layer with the colored skin.

But don’t be afraid and just try! Remember, we still have the original sketch layer that we kept. So in case you want to revert, you have that layer to copy again.

Anyways, here, I will use a softer round blending brush (not one with jitter) and just blend in the sketch layer softly.

Again, adding more shadows and form as I go along. Like over here, I’ve used a darker red for the bottom of the tip of the nose (remember, the tip of the nose is red!)

I’ve also used the highlight color to add in the very bright highlights (sorry it’s a bit hard to see in the pic cuz it’s almost white like the canvas!) but at this point, we still want to keep it very soft and blended. We will add in the details later. There’s highlights at the tip of the nose and the side of the nostrils, for eg.

QUICK TIP: Make a new layer with a medium gray color and put the layer mode on “Color” or “Hue”. This will allow you to check the values quickly.

As you can see, I still have a lot more dark parts missing.

When I’m going to add darker tones, I tend to put them on a new layer and change it to “Multiply”. Making these type of changes on a new layer will allow more flexibility without you ruining the base painting.

This is what my drawing looks like now after all the touching up. I’ve colored the iris and brows too (on a new layer).

15. This is where I will add in the shadow. Do it on a new layer and use a clipping mask so it won’t go outside your base. I’m also using the base color but put the layer mode to “Multiply” to really darken it.

16. Remember to do it for the iris as well, if need be!

17. Now, time to put in the sharper highlights! These highlights are usually around the eye lids and eye corners (near the tear ducts), nose tip, cupid’s bow, lips, chin.

18. Next, let’s add some details. Do this on a new layer and put the layer mode to “Multiply”. You can also use this as a clipping mask onto your base layer.

The brush I use has a spotted tip. And then just use jitter or huge spacing to really spread out these dots. I mainly paint these over the cheeks and the forehead.

19. Make another layer and using the same brush, just make it bigger so the spots look bigger. Use a soft eraser to erase some of the freckles/blemishes.

20. Lastly, go back to your highlight layer and using that same brush, just brush over the cheeks and chin where the light hits.

21. Do some final adjustments. Like, again, I feel like my character needs to be a tad bit more pale. So what should I do?

(Correct answer: Desaturate the color and brighten it overall.)

Remember, the lighter you go, the less saturated the color should look! Also, remember that shadows are also desaturated!

And that’s it! I hope you learn something new today in terms of coloring and shading. :)