#will be going back to my unnecessarily complicated way of coloring

[aychama]

A God to Worship.

Wanted to draw a simple one for once lol

Maybe a slight lore?

[why-the-heck-not]

Top 5 technologies that, unfortunately, have fallen out of use

okay this was interesting, had to rly think. Also idk if my definition of "technology" is right, but anything resembling will go. ALSO damn I rambled a lot, sorry abt that, apparently I like thinking about old tech

CDs. I miss owning albums, it was so nice to like actually have the physical copy of something u love. I think that's what missing now and is why I sometimes get actually annoyed abt loving a band/song (rn it's The Vantages (a band) & I'm actually mad about it) bc the "listening to it is not enough, I need to inject it to my bloodstream"-mood, which in actuality is that I'd love a physical copy to make it feel like a concrete thing. It's like the next best thing to going to a concert, and I can't keep buying merch I'll never wear outside my house to compensate. Also made u like decide on what album u want to listen to & the songs are always gonna be in the same order the artist decided them to be in, no mixing songs from the same or diff artists, you had to make A Choice. (actually my dad has my fave bands CDs (old-ish band & he an og fan) and it's kinda comforting to me that if (/when?) some Spotify apocalypse eventually happens, I'll have a way to listen to them anyways). Also been thinking for years about buying either a CD- or a vinyl player, or something like that bc I want to have physical copies of my faves (but haven't decided on what yet (probs vinyl tho. for the vibes.) and also the money aspect of it is not great)

Nokias. I just talked with my sister how we've both been thinking abt just buying an old Nokia keypad non-smart phone and just using that instead of like the current phones (but alas, not rly possible, like I can't get into my gym without a smart phone and that's just one thing, u kinda need a smartphone or life becomes unnecessarily complicated). But the durability, the worm game, the ''oh no in a hurry and need the letter s, oh shit I went overboard and went right back to p''). Also Finland represent lol

tamagotchi type things. like a "gaming console" (it's not but idk what those are called) that has the one game with abt 3 pixels and no color. Also I had one like that had a monkey that collected dropping bananas and that was the whole game, the only function that thing had (I have a suspicion I got it from McDonalds??? idk why I keep thinking that) (Googled and yes it was from McDonalds, called Aiai banana catch)

those big computers that were for the whole household. We didn't have one growing up (bc my parents had computers at their work and so we didn't need one) but the thrill of going to like a friend who lived near and they used their 1h of computer time to like play some horse game; unparalleled. Or like the games at Miniclip ?? or later on CLUB PENGUIN !!!!! (still to this day the best game that has or ever will exist) (tho I think at around club penguin-era my sister got a laptop so I used that until I got my own)

Those calculators that prints on paper what u've calculated right after, idk what they're called. Never used one & obv never had one bc was a kid, and actually not fully sure if ppl still do use them (but guessing at least that they're not as popular anymore) but damn. The pure aesthetics and vibes. Like the movie scenes of a character calculating using that while looking at bills to indicate that the said character has some finance problems? phenomenal, cinematography etc.

[antisatiric]

it's occurred to me i've never really gone through design notes for twain's design; i have nothing else i can do right now so i'll do that under the cut!

post-writing me adding this bit on: it ended up becoming a sort of chronology about the evolution of twain's design. it's really very long, but i'm happy with the way things turned out.

this is where we started compared to my current design for twain! it's important to acknowledge where he started; my version of twain very much did come initially from bungou stray dogs, and especially on my older blog you can see a long, long stretch of time where i still used his face for icons. there's a marked difference between these two designs, though.

first of all, bungou stray dogs has a habit of just dressing the foreign authors in whatever suits the time period their real life author counterpart was from. this isn't always bad, but in twain's case it wasn't particularly accurate, so i aimed to fix that by removing the aspect of period accuracy from the lore's equation. this is where my first ever redesign comes in;

this was my first ever go at redesigning twain's character to fit the more serious storyline i had in mind for him! there are a lot of aspects changed here and a couple aspects i kept the same so i'll go through them.

the shape and color of his hair remained consistent, save for the addition of a ponytail at the back---at this time, i wasn't confident enough in my portrayal and its deviations to change standout parts of his design, and moreover i wanted to be able to continue using icons of the canon design without too much of an issue. i also kept his giant belt because i found it funny.

i wanted to incorporate a lot more color into this design, though; his initial design is almost entirely black and white except for the belt and his hair, and twain had always seemed to me the type to enjpy vibrant colors. because i tended to base him off the characters featured in his works---usually huck and tom---i wanted a very earth-toned palette, and eventually settled on the green, brown, and black because i liked the way they looked with his red hair.

you might also note that i kept the button up shirt for this design! that will inevitably change later, but for now it's staying, although i had him button it up partway. i considered it an iconic part of his design at the time to have it unbuttoned but i secretly resented the unbuttoned shirt coming up as often as it did in my writing, so i changed it.

as for his shoes, i gave him something a lot more practical while still being a little unnecessarily complicated because i had always had a gripe with his sandals. he was meant to be a rough-and-tumble traveler and the shoes never seemed to be practical for that, so i fixed them.

then we get to my next iteration of the design!

this one is actually quite close to my current design, but it suffers from a few elements i wasn't quite sure how to commit to.

by this time, his official change in ability from aimbot to what it is now had already taken place, and i had also conceptualized no. 44 thanks to the help of a long-dead server for the plot point of humanized abilities, although he was initially quite a different figure in twain's life---originally, before settling into the tense and unwilling mentor-mentee relationship, i had intended 44 to be a sort of de-facto love interest for twain who gave him power out of a sense of fascination, rather than inevitable necessity. the plot of twain being his inheritor came later.

this is the first real appearance of twain's white eye, discolored skin, and white hair, though you'll notice i was hesitant to fully commit to sapping ALL of the color from his skin and his hair retains a lot more orange in a lot wider of a span.

the buttoned up shirt is finally gone, too! i figured since i was already taking dramatic liberties with his character i could just go ahead and change whatever i liked, so i decided it would make more sense to just put him in a non-buttoned shirt and be done with the button debacle that seemed to haunt him all the time. then i gave him a jacket to make up for the loss of green in his shirt!

and now we're finally onto my current iteration of the design.

i've committed fully since then to the color sap on his face. i also brought back the belt (it wouldn't have been visible, but he lost it for a few pictures after the previous one) and decided on a more consistent volume or his hair. this is, for now, what i'm considering his final design, though i imagine it will continue to recieve slight tweaks in the future as i draw him more.

then i of course have my redesigns of him that suit a specific purpose in a couple of his aus...

... but these each honestly deserve their own posts, and i've gone on enough here. thank you for reading if you've gotten this far. i love talking about things like this when it comes to twain. hehe.

[kashica-tries-to-write]

Unanswered texts

March in India is warm. It's not supposed to be as warm as it is today, but warm regardless. Everyone is celebrating Holi today - the festival of colors! I am not exactly sure when, but at some point the festivals lost their hue, for me atleast. Can't say for sure if others feel the same way. To me, a festival nowadays signifies nothing more than a day off work where I can be as gray as I want to be.

So, its a holiday. I decide to eat at a restaurant because I don't feel like cooking, or doing the dishes. I dress up, put on a colorful outfit to feel the joy of the festival. (Spoiler alert - I don't.) I order a cab and get in it. A wonderful application on my phone makes it so that I do not need to have any kind of interaction with the person driving me to my destination. We sit in silence, I buckle in for the journey - it's going to be a moderately long one.

I do the most productive thing one could do in a moment like this - I unlock my phone. I stare at the black and white wallpaper for five seconds before locking it back. I am suddenly reminded of a text I received this morning that I still haven't responded to. So I unlock my phone again with the objective of responding to my texts. But, I have a notification now. It's my calendar, alerting me of my plans to get coffee with a friend tomorrow. Oh no! I completely forgot about that! I search back into my hazy memories to recollect which cafe we agreed on. I remember and decide to check the maps on my phone.

Where is this cafe exactly? How do I get there tomorrow? Most of these commuting suggestions are unnecessarily complicated. Oh wait! I could take this subway route, it'll get me the closest to the cafe and from there it is a small walk! Perfect! When do I need to leave so that I reach on time? Subway leaves at 8.39, so I need to walk from home at 8.30. Let's leave at 8.25 just in case. So that would mean that I need to be up by 7, latest! Hmmm, cool cool.

Did we choose a good cafe, though? What are the reviews like? What do they serve? What's my budget like? What shall I get? Do I feel like splurging tomorrow? If I splurge tomorrow though, then I will have to cut myself off from any more unnecessary purchases for this month (hahaha). That seems far-fetched, let's be honest. I have the answers to all my questions in the next 10 minutes. I have an internal dialogue to make sure that I am up for this coffee tomorrow morning. Once I get an affirmative - I text my friend, asking if we were still on for coffee the next day; secretly hoping they say no. I wouldn't be mad, or offended. I'd be happy, if anything. See, I don't really like leaving my house. (yes, okay, I see the irony)

I close the applications on my phone and lock it back.

I sigh and proceed to stare outside the window of my cab. Everything is extra colorful today, because Holi, duh! I see people on their vehicles dressed in white, painted with all colors imaginable - subtly boasting the intensity of their celebrations. The streets aren't as busy as usual - I guess most people are celebrating with their family or friends. The cab was enclosed in a quietude, which was only interrupted by the ceaseless hum of the engine. "This is nice." I think to myself, "why do I always try to fill my silences with thoughts?" My newfound tranquility is punctured presently, as

I am suddenly reminded of a text I received this morning that I still haven't responded to. So I unlock my phone again with the objective of responding to my texts.

[chrysaliscreatorii]

Hazbin Theory

Alastors Deal

Now, I’m not much of MAKING fan theories, but as a writer myself I can’t help but find certain things curious or take note of how they do them. One of which, was while watching Hazbin Hotel, my first thought about Lilith being missing and Alastor being missing for the same amount of time sounded… well… WAY to on the nose. Its way to obvious.

I mean, I guess it makes sense and it most likely has something to do with Charlie, and logically speaking, it couldn’t have been from someone lower in the hierarchy system. It HAD to be from someone that is ABOVE the overlords and that leaves little options.

The Ars Goetia is mostly snobbish, so I don’t think most would care, so that only leaves Charlie, Lilith and the other sins. From what we have seen and has been implied, most (2, 4?) of the sins are at least decent enough people, and Mammon doesn’t do charity (plus there is obviously some conflict between him and Lucifer), so I doubt he would be involved.

But then it hit me like a ton of bricks, what if it was a SIN that made a deal with Alastor? NOT Lilith, and that has been a red herring all along? A sin is still high enough to be almost on the top and is definitely on top of the overlords and the Ars Goetia.

But who? Well, the only sin we actually have next to no info on, the sin which actually has a particular color associated with it, a color that is seen when Alastor uses his powers. Green, the color of ENVY. Plus, tentacles? Like, Leviathan? Kinda on the nose if you think about it.

After that thought, a lot of other things actually started to click. When Alastor first met Lucifer, he was totally irked, and when interacting he was riling him up as to show him how much better of a Dad he is compared to Lucifer, he was trying to make Lucifer JEALOUS. Not to mention that envious people sometimes try to keep a front, they are all smiles in front of you but they resent you behind closed doors. Another little detail I noticed, is that Lucifer has a photo of what MIGHT be said sin in his office, but we can’t confirm.

While all these made some sort of sense, the only things I couldn’t click where the why? What could Alastor had made a deal of if it was with Leviathan? To what purpose? The only things I could think of were 2.

The first came back to Lilith, in which she had something on Leviathan, so to not get her own hands dirty, she kinda “outsourced” the deal. Meaning she made Leviathan make a deal with Alastor in his moment of need, maybe to protect the hotel or something. But then, why wait seven years for him to finally comply with his part? Not to mention there are other holes to this one. Like, was Charlie working on the Hotel all the way back then? Why outsorce it? Protect her from WHAT? Among others. You might think that’s unnecessarily complicated, but a lot of people do this to prevent things going back to them. Think, Strangers in a Train.

The other was that it was out of some sort of spite Lev has against Lucifer, he pretends to be his friend to his face but behind his back he hates him with a passion. So he went after his daughter to hurt him the most, and sent Alastor to make sure the hotel fails since he is already a sadist. But this doesn’t make total sense either. So I got stumped again.

Was it Lilith that made the deal? Lev? Lilith though Lev? Or some other unknown third party all together? I heard of a character named Roo, but I don’t think it’s her.

What do you think?

[comicaurora]

Hello Red! I'm happy to say you've inspired me to start drawing comics, but the biggest issue I've encountered is that it takes actually forever. I'm always really happy I did it when I'm done but it's hard to convince myself to start when I know a couple panels is gonna take me days. So I was wondering if you had any advice regarding streamlining the process for time efficiency or keeping up motivation for long projects, and, if you remember, how long a page took you when you first started vs how long it takes now?

Hoo boy. Yeah, I can help out with that. The very first page of the comic took me, if I'm recalling correctly, a full week. No other projects or pages, just this.

A lot of work went into details that are frankly impossible to see, though I am still glad I did it, both as a learning experience and because I felt like I owed it to Vash to do it some justice before I squished it in twelve pages.

Hell, if you look closely, you can even see the cavalcade of little visual errors I missed because I didn't have it in me to do a seventeenth cleanup pass after a week straight of drawing tiny houses. Getting faster meant I'd have more energy left to polish the pages and get them looking nicer.

The process of getting faster has been kind of a fits-and-starts situation. Drawing that many humanoid figures over and over again eventually means you just get better at the parts you're less sure of, so the process of lining the pages has gotten rather faster since I don't need to burn as much time getting the character poses and lines right. Currently, depending on page complexity, I can fairly consistently get 3-5 pages fully lined in one night. Backgrounds have also gotten faster, and I tend to do those in large batches, sometimes filling out entire chapters with location backgrounds and skyboxes because the scene location isn't going to change and that makes it easier to keep it consistent.

Initially my backgrounds were both more complicated and worse-looking, which is a bad combination.

I ended up deciding between chapters that painstakingly lining a bunch of background trees probably wasn't worth the effort, and worked on finding a shortcut that would work better. I ended up doing something a little more lineless, a shortcut I initially discovered because I didn't want to plug in my drawing tablet and was playing around with things I could do with just my trackpad.

It was simpler, faster, not too jarring, and it meant my clearly-lined foreground figures were more naturally visually separated from the distant background. Win-win-win.

For the style of coloring I do, I tend to shade before I add color, though this is a shortcut I didn't figure out until something like chapter 6. This process is also pretty fast, all things considered, though I've had a lot of practice doing this kind of cel shading which is why I can hammer out a lot of pages' worth of shading quite quickly.

I like working in batches of about one scene, often broken up into subgroups of 4-6 pages at a time, so I can't give a front-to-back turnaround for an individual page - but I also think this kind of assembly-line process has sped up the process overall and makes it more fun for me, because I can storyboard basically as far in advance as I want to, which in turn makes it easier for me to motivate myself to keep going, because I know there's all kinds of good stuff I'm looking forward to drawing down the line. There's some good shit I'm excited for in Chapter 21, and bursts of enthusiasm on the storyboard end of things often translate to enthusiasm on the page-finalizing end which makes it easier to slog through even the tedious bits.

As a bonus, working ahead means the story's got a better chance of making sense and having good pacing when it's read back as an archive. Another win-win.

Overall the greatest optimization tool I can recommend is just working on the project. There's no better way to identify the parts that feel unnecessarily slow and could be changed, or the parts of your art you're unsure of that need polish to get more speedy. If you're planning on publishing the comic anywhere, I recommend building up a buffer beforehand - something like the first chapter (or in my case, first three chapters) will give you a very good sense of what parts need more practice or improvement as you move forward. And it is genuinely easier to motivate yourself to continue if you have an audience giving you positive feedback and/or panicking at what you're doing to their darlings.

[tnystrk-exe]

Estocolmo

Hannibal x Reader

Masterpost

Warnings: Smut 18+ thigh riding, fingering, oral, daddy kink, plot to make up for my first attempt at writing smut.

Word count: 6.8k

Chapter One

“Fucking hell.” You sighed as you looked at the still tall stack of essays that needed grading. “I’m never getting through this.”

Your stomach grumbled, signaling it was time for a break. Stretching, the quiet was interrupted by the sound of your bone’s protest from sitting in one position for hours. It was nights like these you had regretted your choices. Sure you had known Professor Jacob loved to torture his students with too much work, but when you took the job as his assistant you assumed that he’d shoulder some of the weight. A ridiculous thought now that you’ve experienced working with him. Why should he even think of grading an assignment when he had a perfect little lackey doing it for him? That was a non question. He had been strict about the work not leaving his office, which meant you had accidentally fallen asleep in his office more than often than you would have liked. The pile of work never seemed to diminish. 

Walking out the office, you thought briefly of the joy you would feel when you’d never have to see it again. These long corridors would be a thing of the past in just a few, short months. Then you’d probably go to the city and struggle for a while but at least you would be free from here. As much as you prided yourself for getting through the first round of college, the walls of the building gave you more of an annoyed feeling than anything. 

Pushing open the door to the teachers lounge, you made a beeline for the fridge. The leftover pizza already seemed like a feast until you noticed it was nowhere to be seen. “Hannibal,” you whined to the empty room as you closed the fridge. 

“Yes, darling?” 

You startled, immediately turning around to face him, a mischievous smile was plastered on his lips. Usually your missing dinner meant to head over to his office. It wasn’t typical, but the two of you had managed a comfortable friendship between the shared late nights. Though, you suspected he’d stay longer than necessary to accompany you in the empty building. “Would you mind telling me where my dinner went, handsome?” You asked, raising a brow at him.

“Old pizza can hardly be considered dinner. Come,” he motioned to sit next to him at the table, “I’ve got a better meal prepared for you nonetheless.”

“Or maybe you just need to learn to appreciate the simple things,” you quipped as you took your seat.

“And you, the finer.”

You gave him an obvious look over, “I’d say I appreciate you plenty enough.” 

Being so forward wasn’t usually in your cards. However Hannibal had always been a gentleman and it had been fun to tease at him a bit. He never complained, often just acknowledging what you said with a raised brow or chuckle. Still there was always some truth in jokes and you’d be lying to say that he was anything less than tempting. Especially in the dark grey suit and dried blood red shirt of his. ‘No’ wouldn’t come to mind if he ever offered.

“Naughty, Miss LN,” he chided you, “What shall we do with you?”

“What do you want to do with me?”

“Eat your dinner,” he said, humor in his voice as he shook his head.

You choked back a comment about him just wanting to see your mouth stuffed, deciding it was too much of a push. Instead you just opened the lunchbox he placed in front of you. Hannibal watched you expectantly as you took a bite of the meat.

Closing your eyes, you savored the bite. It had been a while since you had something home cooked. “Han... I’m going to miss you most. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you. Delicious, as always.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” He went back to work on his own stack of papers as you ate. “Though, I’m not sure I’m ready to allow you to live off street food once we part.”

“Guess we’re gonna have to find me another man that insists on throwing away my perfectly good food to serve me home cooked meals.”

Hannibal left some remarks on a paper before pushing it to the side. “You could always come learn a few things. Maybe I’ll rest better knowing you know how to make yourself a couple of decent meals. Any guesses for the meat?”

It was a strange guessing game, but you indulged him, he was just eccentric. “Oh, definitely human,” you teased, making sure to pick up some spinach and artichoke in the next bite, “Probably had a boring name like David.”

“Close. It was Richard,” he corrected. 

“Beef, it was the Rolex of all farm animals hand picked by you and I’m very grateful you shared some with me,” you smiled at him, “So how are things going with Baltimore?”

“I’ve found a beautiful home. The office, however, seems to be harder to find.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect one.” Your phone started ringing. Grabbing it from your pocket, you looked at the screen. Mom. “They’re making this unnecessarily difficult,” you sighed to yourself. 

Hannibal looked at you with peaked interest as you shut off your phone and pushed it away. “Is something troubling you?”

“My parents aren’t taking too kindly to the no contact rule. It’s the tenth call today.”

“You’ve cut them off?”

“I thought about what you had said,” you shrugged, “I’m tired of always having to get them out of troubles and be their ATM when I don’t have enough for myself. It’s just too much on me right now. Between school assignments, Jacob’s work pile, and my other part time, it’s all just suffocating. They keep trying to use my grandfather’s death as a leverage to make me feel bad about not talking to them now, but they just want some money. I don’t want to feel guilty about this but I can’t help it.”

“Don’t,” he placed his hand over yours, “You deserve to feel taken care of and appreciated. They aren’t providing you with that now. Especially now when they use the death of the person who raised you as leverage,” he shook his head, making a disgusted sound, “It’s for your own well-being that you take some time to breathe and be young. They provide too much stress…” Hannibal fell silent. “I’ve suggested this before but i-“

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “I’m not taking your money. We’re friends. Money complicates things. Muddies the waters.”

“Friends help each other,” he reminded you, “I’ve already told you I wouldn’t want any payment.”

“But I’d still feel like I owe you.” You shook your head, “It wouldn’t feel right to me. I’m fine. I promise. Though, if you’re so willing to help me with something, I wouldn’t say no to those cooking lessons. They could be fun.”

He spared you a smile, “It would be my pleasure to teach you what I know.”

“And I’d never deny your pleasure,” your mouth spoke before you could think about it, “Sorry.”

“I don’t deny myself pleasure either,” he said, amused. “You’re fine. Now, how about we meet on Sunday? I’ll have time to figure out a full meal and gather all of the ingredients.”

“Great!” You ignored the heat that still lingered on your face, “I- um, do you need me to bring anything?”

“Nothing at all, I’ll make sure to take care of everything. All you need to do, sweet girl, is bring yourself and an appetite.”

You stifled a pleased smile at the term of affection. “I’ll make sure to do that,” sparing a glance to the clock, you frowned, “I should probably get back to work on those essays.”

“Why don’t we work on them together?” He suggested. “My colleague is notorious for drowning you in his work. I can help you sort through it all and you can have a restful Saturday without Micheal’s added stress.”

“I really can’t ask that of you. You already have enough work as it is.”

“We’ll work together. First your work, then mine. What happened to never denying my pleasure?” 

Your eyes widened, but you laughed all the same. Maybe a while more in his company wouldn’t be so bad. “Fine. Hold me to my words, but it’s only going to cause you a headache. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. These new kids are… something else.”

“They’re nothing,” he stood, grabbing his papers in one hand, “Meet me in my office. We can be more comfortable there and I may have stowed away a bottle of wine.”

“What would I do without you Doctor Lecter?”

-

“You have arrived at your destination,” the robotic voice informed you as you parked.

You took in the mansion of a home. It was too big for someone that lived alone. The thought made you shiver. Homes should be filled with life, not empty space. Then again, he was a fan of dinner parties, extravagant ones at that, so you supposed there was life in those walls on occasion. The home itself reminded you of the houses in old movies. Ones where the lightning would strike at just the right moment as a warning to stay away. But this was real life and there was no lightning, just a sun setting on a near perfect day. 

Without a warning telling you to keep away, you grabbed the gift bag and stepped out of your car. He had said to bring nothing, but you couldn’t resist a simple gift. The ties in the bag had taken out a decent chunk from your pocket, but he deserved them. Between agreeing to give you cooking lessons and helping you out with grading every so often, the simple pieces of fabric meant nothing. Besides, it was a two way gift, he’d get more of the patterned ties he was fond of and you’d get to see him in the darker colors you liked on him, knowing he’d feel compelled to wear them to show you his gratitude.

Knocking on the door, you waited a couple of minutes before he emerged. “YN, just in time. Please, come in,” he stepped to the side, “I’ve looked forward to this all day.”

You smiled and stepped past him. “I have too. Entertained myself a bit today by finding you a gift.” 

“Darling, you shouldn’t have.”

Nervousness bit at you slightly, a bit self conscious they’d be too cheap for his taste. Too late to back out of it, you handed over the bag. “You’ve always been so kind and I really appreciate everything. Let me do something for you.”

He set the bag on the nearby table, laying out the ties to get a better look at them.  “They’re all lovely,” he ran a finger across the fabric of a maroon one, “Fond of me in darker colors, YN?”

“What can I say?” You shrugged, “We catch ourselves spending a lot of time together. Why not make you a decent piece of eye candy?”

“Inappropriate,” he chided you, before signaling you to follow after him.

“You just wear them so well, Doctor Lecter.”

Shrugging off his navy suit coat, he draped it over a chair, making quick work of rolling up his sleeves. “Ready to get your hands dirty, my little sous-chef?”

“What are we making?” You asked, looking at his kitchen wide eyed. It was definitely bigger than your measly studio apartment. 

“Frisee aux lardons, duck with a pomegranate-citrus glaze. I took the liberty of preparing a blood orange sorbet for dessert.”

“I have a proposal.”

“Yes?”

“We don’t do any of that and just have dessert for dinner.”

“No,” he gave you an amused glance, “There’s more pleasure in waiting for things. Why don’t you start washing up the vegetables and I’ll start preparing the duck?”

You stuck your tongue out at his back but set to your work. “This is what I get for befriending a charming old guy.”

“Keep going the way you are and our next meal together will be langue d’Agneau en papillote.”

“That can’t be a threat if I don’t know what that means,” you quipped, setting aside an endive. 

“It means, darling,” he pointed his knife at you, “The fondness I feel for you is an inconvenience. Nonetheless, it’s welcomed.”

You smiled at him brightly, as you brought the washed vegetables over to him. “I’m fond of you too, but you gotta stop flirting and teach me how we’re gonna cook Daffy here.”

He motioned for you to grab a cutting board and a knife of your own. The two of you worked in quiet harmony, occasionally he’d tell you exactly why he was doing something a certain way or just give you simple instructions and let you have a hands on feel of exactly how to prepare something. It was nice to see him in his element. Hannibal seemed much more content in his kitchen than any where you had seen him at the college. Eventually he set his work to the side and washed his hands. 

“You’re cutting them too thick. Thinner is better for this dish.” He stepped behind you, “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead.” You attempted to move to the side, but Hannibal had already caged you in between himself and the counter. His cologne was different from the one you were accustomed to him wearing, but the subtle spice of it gave a more homey feeling to him. 

Hannibal grabbed your hand that had yet to  let go of the knife. He made sure to show you how to cut them the right thickness. “See? A little thing can unbalance everything.”

“Hm,” you hummed, catching yourself relaxed against the man, his frame strong against yours, “I don’t see much of a difference. Pretty sure this is just your variation of a putter.”

“You assume I have hidden motives,” He acknowledged, looking down at you, “And if there were any?”

Taking the bait, you pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw. “I wouldn’t be too upset.”

His head dipped into your shoulder, taking in a breath. “What happened to not wanting to bring on complications in our friendship?”

“We only have weeks left with each other,” you shrugged, “There wouldn’t be any complications. Not really.”

“We really should get back to making our dinner, darling,” he sighed, almost seeming reluctant to pull away, “What else did you did you do today?””

It took you a second to respond, still shaking off the embarrassment. You weren’t sure what had compelled you to do that. When you looked up at him you grimaced. Grabbing a napkin, you carefully wiped away the lingering lipstick. “The ties were the more interesting part of the day, I didn’t plan anything eventful. Honestly most of my day was taken with trying to recall the shop you mentioned that carried the ones you liked.”

He hummed in appreciation, “You also managed to pick out two I have had my eye on. I’ve got new suits coming in soon that will pair perfectly.”

You beamed at that, happy he did actually like what you had chosen. “Lucky guess. It was difficult remembering the ones I had seen you wear.”

Hannibal made to grab some ingredients and set them on the counter near the stove. “Have your parents tried calling you this weekend?”

You sighed, sure you didn’t have to tell him the truth but you wanted to, he had a compelling thing to him that made it easy to just speak. “I sent them money for rent. Which was honestly the dumbest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“It wasn’t idiotic,” he stated, setting to work on making the pomegranate sauce as you watched, “They’re you’re parents. It’s only natural you worry about them. Though, I do worry they’ll think of you as a person that doesn’t stick to her word.”

“I know, I really meant to, but the thought of them out on the street. It’s not my responsibility, but I’m just so used to being their adult.”

“It’s difficult to detransition. You worry for them as they should worry for you.”  He checked over a pan he had been heating, “That’s perfect. If you could please..” Grabbing the plate with the duck you set them on the pan. “With duck it’s important to render off the fat. A low heat is necessary.”

You nodded, “Low and slow, got it... You know, I’m not sure they worry about me at all. I mean- I know they don’t. It should hurt, but it’s just a fact of life.”

“They didn’t give you an opportunity to be a child. When you were supposed to be in the most carefree moments of your life, they burdened you with the responsibilities of an adult.” He held out a spoon with some of the pomegranate sauce for you to taste. “Any pain the notion inflicted on you has been killed with time.”

“There are still moments though. Suppose that’s common enough, isn’t it Doc?” You leaned in, allowing him to feed you, “That tastes amazing. I really should have paid attention.”

“It’s simple, I’ll write it out for you later.” Casting the sauce aside, he set a pot of water to boil. “Very common. We aren’t too dissimilar when it comes to how quickly we had to grow up. Very different reasons, but the fall out isn’t much different. Our paths left us in places where we’re very much alone.”

“What happened?” You asked, realizing that he had known a great deal of your family and you had known nothing more past how his day had gone or his preference of coffee. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t.” Hannibal went to fill two glasses with wine. “I was very young when my parents died. My father had implemented in me that, if anything were to happen, I was to take care of my mother and sister. Which meant I had grown fiercely protective of Mischa when the time came. Soon I was acting more as her father than a brother.”

“Where’s Mischa now?” You asked, knowing at the very least she had to be in her late twenties.

His lips set into a frown, he took a quick drink. “Lost her sometime after. There was a lapse of judgement on my part and she suffered because of it. My days have often been shrouded by the thought that I could have done better by her. The ways I failed burdens me significantly.”

You rubbed his arm sympathetically. “I couldn’t even begin to imagine that pain.”

“It’s something I never wish to experience again. Losing someone you love so dearly, it changes a person.”

“I’m sure you tried your best. You’re a good man. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that when you were so young.”

“You think too highly of me,” he patted your hand on his arm, “Far better than I deserve. Still if my childhood had taught me anything, it’s to value those I hold dear. Such as yourself.” 

“I’m glad we found each other. Even if it is for a short while.” You watched as he stepped back into the rhythm of cooking. Maybe you weren’t any help to him but watching him work was comforting. 

He raised a brow, “Just because the amount of time we physically see each other will diminish, doesn’t mean we need to completely break apart. I’d like to have you at my dinner table later in life.”

“I’d like it if we kept in touch,” you replied, looking at a small box on the counter. The small black beads glimmered in the light, calling at you to take a peek. A neat row of recipe cards in his impeccable penmanship, numbered as high as 120 but there could have been more. “That’s sweet,” you mused, looking at the back of a card, noticing a couple had business cards on them, “You keep track of your friends’ favorites like this?”

“Friends, acquaintances, business partners. It’s difficult remembering everyone’s preferences. When I have dinner parties I like to make sure there’s a bit of something for everyone.”

“Hm, well I’m sorry I don’t have a card for you to have.”

When everything was said and done, you helped Hannibal set up the plates to have dinner. The conversation became light as you laughed along to the better memories of Mischa. From his smile it was easy to see he adored the usually shy girl. You never pressed on to find out how she died, simply choosing to bask in his soft smiles and laughter instead of entertaining curiosity. It was easy to see he rarely talked about her and you were grateful that he found that much comfort in you.

Some time later he was sitting at his harpsichord, playing a self composed melody as you browsed his shelves. There was an almost familiar calm in the air, like this was a usual happening and it would simply just happen again. A naturally reoccurring moment. You found comfort in his presence too. 

You looked up from the shelves when you heard his sigh. “I can’t seem to master this melody,” he stated, “The ending never sounds right.” The annoyed demeanor contradicted his lax look. At least lax for him. His vest and suit jacket had been discarded a while ago leaving him with a popped button, loosened tie, and rolled up sleeves. “I may just leave this one in the air.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” you said, walking over to him, “Though we can be our own worst critics. I know I’m mine.”

“It sounds… forced. Almost as if it’s reluctant to work with me.”

“Forced things just need time.” You placed your hand on his shoulders, digging in your thumbs to relieve the tension you felt. A soft groan as he let his head lull back to rest against your stomach. “Time is all you need sometimes. I thought you would have learned that already, old man.”

He opened his eyes, raising a brow at you. “Always with that mouth.”

You smiled down on him fondly, something- probably the wine in your system -thought about pressing a kiss to his forehead right then. “What can I say? It has a mind of its own.”

“I do prefer when it’s otherwise occupied,” he stated, closing his eyes again.

Your fingers dug a little deeper at that, caught off guard. “And yet.”

Hannibal played a couple soft notes, seemingly testing the waters for his next attempt at getting it to sound right. “And yet.” The first melody seemed almost innocent, but was followed by a second seemingly stalking after it. “Would you mind putting on a record? It seemed I’ve grown bored with music of my own.”

“Sure thing, Han.” Giving his shoulders one final squeeze you pulled away from him. At the record table you browsed through his selection. Hannibal was still composing as you decided to go with a record that looked more worn than the others, figuring something well loved would help him out of his frustrated state. Setting it on the platter, you gave it a brief once over with the anti static brush, knowing he’d probably be attentive to that type of thing, and dropped the needle. The music filled the air as you took in the melody. “Very you.”

He let out a soft chuckle, abandoning the harpsichord, in favor walking over to you. “Very me, indeed.” Hannibal took the record sleeve out of your hand, setting it down on the table. The music’s build up reached. “Would you give me the honor?” His hand was stretched out toward you.

You gave him a sheepish smile, “Afraid I’m going to have to disappoint. I’m not much of a dancer.”

“I’ve been told I’m a wonderful teacher,” he pressed, a charming smile on his lips, “We all start somewhere. Let me be yours.”

A soft laugh bubbled from you as you took in his look of boyish excitement. “You’re not allowed to complain when I step on your toes.” You placed your hand in his. 

He gave a gentle squeeze to your hand. “If you’re too terrible, I’ll show you the way I taught Mischa. You can stand on my toes as I try to help you commit the movements into muscle memory.”

“Handsome and a comedian.”

“I try my best.” Hannibal gave you a gentle spin as he pulled you closer. A kiss was pressed to your hand before he placed it on his shoulder. “Now, just follow after me,” he instructed, placing his hand on your hip.

The moment could have made you fall for the man as you danced with him throughout the room. Toothy smiles and teasing winks were sent your way the couple of times you stepped on his toe. Soon enough, you figured out the pace and learned how to follow through with his unspoken plans. Still, ever the novice, you managed to place your foot in a way that sent you both stumbling to the floor.

Hannibal held you close to his chest, ensuring you didn’t get hurt in the fall. “Oh my sweet girl,” he laughed, “we are going to need more practice.”

You hid your face against his neck, ignoring the fact that he could feel how hot your face was getting. “You want more of that?”

“You were doing perfect, YN,” he stroked your hair sympathetically, “One misstep isn’t something to be embarrassed about.”

Taking a deep breath, you shifted off of the older man, opting to sit beside him on the floor. Hannibal followed suit, leaning back on his elbows. “I really am going to miss seeing you regularly,” you admitted, reaching out your hand to push back the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. 

“We spend much of our time together,” he acknowledged as he looked at you curiously. “In the kitchen-“

Your eyes widened slightly, “We don’t need to talk about that i-it’s fine. No hard feelings.”

“Romantically or physically?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you see me as a romantic or physical conquest?”

“I, um,” you opted to look at your fumbling hands, “I’m honestly not sure about romance… especially considering… everything and my experience when it comes to romance. Never really thought past- I’m talking too much.”

Hannibal’s hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Oh? What happened to the confident girl in the kitchen? Don’t go shy on me now.”

“I was high on your cologne, you can hardly blame me,” you rambled, “It pairs with mine nicely I think.”

His thumb stroked absentmindedly at your jaw. “Such a sweet little thing you are… Now, tell me, YN, what couldn’t you think past?”

“You,” you offered lamely, “Mostly nights when I needed to relax. You’d cross my mind. I’d wonder how you felt. How’d you do things. Maybe you’d like to leave bruises only you’d ever know about…”

“There’s something special in knowing what others don’t,” Hannibal acknowledged, “I do enjoy my lovers wearing my marks, hidden from others view and only acknowledged by myself. As it should be, I’m certain you agree.”

You swallowed thickly at the implication of being marked as his solely. The idea of having normal conversations with him at the college with evidence of him knowing you well burned against your skin. Maybe you’d see if you could convince him into one particular fantasy Friday night had conjured. 

He rested his thumb against your bottom lip, bringing you back to him. “I’ve had thoughts of my own… I wonder… Have you ever wrapped a hand around your own neck?” Hannibal smirked at the way your lips parted in surprise as he felt the heat rise to your face, caught in a way you hadn’t expected. “Sweet girl, were you desperate for me?”

You went to lick your bottom lip out of habit, instead finding the pad of his thumb. “Yes, sir.”

“Darling,” he sighed out softly, almost disappointed, “we could have sorted you out this entire time, if you’d only ask politely. There would have been no need for you to imagine, creative as you might have been. You always put everyone’s needs before yours, but where does that leave you?” Hannibal his thumb pressed against your lips lightly, humming in satisfaction when you let him in, already so compliant. “All you have to do is ask. What would you have me do tonight?” A soft pop sounded in the room as he pulled his thumb back, smearing your spit onto your lips and chin. 

“Just tonight?” The words rolled out of your mouth thoughtlessly. 

A soft laugh. “Maybe more, if you behave.”

Hannibal threaded his hand into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. Leaning closer he took a deep breath, taking you in, before leaving a simple kiss against your neck. His warm breath fanned across your face as he kept you in anticipation. Finally he graced you with a feather light kiss, so quick you weren’t sure you even noticed. You didn’t have time to feel ashamed of the whine that had escaped when he started to move away. Following after him, you caught him in an urgent kiss, threading your own hands in his hair to make sure he’d stay close. Hannibal bit at your bottom lip, his tongue sliding in the second you gasped. You ignored the sting and slight coppery taste. 

Sure you had had your fair share of ventures. It was only natural to crave the attention for the night or a couple hours. However, Hannibal didn’t feel like any of your past partners. His kiss was unrelenting and passionate. Quickly he learned exactly how to kiss you to ensure you’d moan into his mouth. You weren’t sure how long had been spent like this. Lips on lips. Someone’s wandering hand trailing down the other’s body. The growing need. Every movement slowly became bolder. Hannibal took the time to pull you onto his thigh, closing the distance between you even more. He kissed along your neck until he found a spot that made you buck against him. 

“Please,” you sighed out, not really knowing exactly what you wanted, but having faith that he’d give you just what you needed. 

Hannibal leaned his forehead against yours, “Are you sure about this, darling?” 

It wasn’t time for contemplation though, everything was already set into motion. He had just asked out of politeness. His hands moved to your hips, he dragged you against himself in a way that clouded your mind. “You’re very convincing,” you said with a shuddered breath. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you matched his rhythm. At the moment everything in the world was him and you couldn’t find it in you to mind. 

“You came to me,” he pointed out. His hand tugged at your shirt and you allowed him to pull it off. Fingers raised goose bumps along your skin as he followed the fabric of your bra to unclasp the material.  

“Could you blame me?” You kissed the side of his jaw for the second time this night. The lipstick mark left behind wasn’t as embarrassing when you were half undressed on his lap. A blush blossomed in your chest as you watched his darken eyes take you in.

Hannibal kissed along your chest. His hand made its way into your pants, drawing slow circles on your clit. Your soft moan and jut of your hips urged him for more. Before you could ask, he thrusted two fingers inside of you, the pace changing every so often as he took in your reactions. You leaned your head against his shoulder as you grinded against his hand. Soft whimpers were muffled by the fabric of his shirt. 

“Come on sweet girl,” he used his free hand to pull you off of his shoulder by the hair, “you shouldn’t be hiding. Look at me when I’m touching you. Don’t you want to be my good toy?”

You nodded meekly, unable to make a smart comment when you saw a smirk settle on his lips as a too loud moan took its place. 

“That’s it, no one can hear you,” he teased as he worked at the spot harder, his thumb rubbed at your clit. “You seem very close, what if I…”

As he went to move his hand, you grabbed his wrist to stop him. “No, no, no. Please, I’ll be good for you.”

He chuckled, but didn’t say a word as he brought his pace back up. Instead he chose to revel in your soft sounds and the way you had to focus to keep your eyes on him. Finally, he decided keeping you on the edge was enough and allowed you to cum on his fingers. 

“Clean up your mess,” he said as he thrusted his cum coated fingers into your mouth, “There you go, good girl.”

You watched him as you sucked his fingers clean. Bringing a hand down you palmed cock through his pants, fully intending on returning the favor. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“I’m afraid that status isn’t going to change anytime soon.” Hannibal kissed your pouted lip. “Don’t worry, I fully intend on taking care of you. Come, let’s make you more comfortable.”

As he stood, Hannibal offered you his hand to help you up. You followed him through the home to his bedroom, a place you didn’t think you’d end up but were more than pleased to see. Still you weren’t exactly taking in the sights when you were pulled into a rougher kiss as he led you toward his bed. A not too gentle push to your chest landed you on top of it. Leaning back on your elbows, you watched as Hannibal took his time undressing you fully. 

“You don’t play fair,” you complained, shifting yourself higher on the bed, away from him, “I like a pretty view too you know.”

He smiled, looking down at you fondly, “Very well, but only as a reward for earlier. I know you struggled.”

You smiled at that, shaking your head, “Come here won’t you?”

There wasn’t any time wasted when he settled on top of you, you didn’t have his patience. Your hands worked on his tie and buttons as his lips and teeth trailed across your chest. A subtle grind against your pussy had your thighs squeeze his waist. Pushing his shirt off, you felt down his chest, still surprised by how muscular he seemed to be underneath it all. You wondered if he’d stop you as you reached for his belt.

“That’s enough. I don’t think you’ve earned it just yet.”

An annoyed huff was all you could manage. 

“All in its time, darling.” A surprisingly gentle kiss was dropped on your cheek. “Can you manage waiting a while longer for me?”

You resisted the urge to nuzzle against him, unused to such soft displays from past partners. “Yes, sir...”

“Always such a sweet, polite thing.” 

Hannibal kissed and bit his way down your body, ensuring there would be evidence of him the next time you saw yourself in the mirror. He allowed you to thread your fingers in his hair, giving him a soft push down when he took too long marking you in one spot. It wasn’t much longer until Hannibal was level with your thighs, he pushed them further apart. A moment passed without anything before you remembered his rule. Willing yourself up you looked down at him, catching a wink before you were rewarded with a broad lick. Hannibal sucked your clit, pressing your hips down when you grinded against him. 

A helpless noise was the most you could do.

He bit your thigh, his fingers immediately making their way back inside of you, targeting the spot he had quickly learned turned you to putty. 

“You really are beautiful like this,” Hannibal acknowledged, “Completely at my mercy. Desperate for anything I’m willing to give you.”

There wasn’t any time to think up something to say as Hannibal’s mouth replaced his fingers, silencing any words that weren’t his breathy attempts of his name and pleas. Teeth grazed against your clit and a soft moan of his own was enough to pull you closer. 

“Please, daddy,” you begged, too far gone to be embarrassed by your slip, “I’m close…”

Hannibal was merciful, helping you finish as quickly as you had asked. Maybe at another time he would have teased and made you hold on longer but there was only so much patience he had. Especially when there was such an eager lover begging him. You watched him, dazed, as he came back up, his hand gripping at your jaw.

“Open.”

Doing as he wanted, you opened your mouth, instantly receiving a mix of the still lingering wine he had drank at dinner and you. He watched as you swallowed.

He let out an almost dreamy sigh. “So pliant.” 

Hannibal kissed you, finally allowing you to get your way as you pushed off the last clothes. You pumped him in your hand, working up the courage as you shook off the daze he had left you in. He was definitely the most talented partner you had had.

“We don’t have to go any further,” Hannibal reassured you, kissing the side of your mouth, “I’m perfectly sedated watching you.”

You shook your head immediately, not wanting him to think you were hesitant. “I want to, college guys aren’t so giving, just needed some time to clear my head.” As if to prove your point you gave him a squeeze, that made him thrust into your hand on instinct. “I just feel bad you’re doing all the work.”

“I prefer it,” he groaned quietly, as you thumbed at the slit. Hannibal rolled so that you could be on top of him, “But if you insist…”

A soft laugh. “That was hardly the fight I was expecting,” you muttered teasingly, kissing his jaw. 

“My patience is running thin.”

At that you straddled him, your hand lining him up with you. His hands held you steady as you sunk onto him. The both of you moaned softly when he was fully inside. Hannibal slowly grinded you against himself as you adjusted to his size. Hands against his chest, you started riding him in earnest. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praised you, his fingernails digging harder into your hips. 

“Yours,” you whimpered, too enthralled in the feel of him to pay any attention to the weight of what you were saying. His groans underneath you encouraged you more than anything. “All yours.”

Hannibal sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you firm against him. His soft kiss was a contrast to how roughly he was working himself into you. You couldn’t find it in you to care that he had taken control again. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him do as he pleased, just enjoying the way his hands and lips would travel across your body. Teasing, pinching, biting everywhere he could reach.  Your chest alone would be covered in marks left behind by Hannibal. That would be a problem for the future you to deal with at the moment you were too preoccupied with begging him for more. He’d slow his thrust whenever he felt you close to the end, chuckling lowly at the whining sounds you had made.

“Give daddy one more sweet girl. I know you can.”

You moaned loudly, giving Hannibal exactly what he wanted. When he wanted. Drained, you fell limp against his shoulder. Every small sound you made broadcast directly to him as he used you for all your worth. His arms tightened around you when you tried to pull away from the over stimulation. 

“Daddy’s close,” he promised, his accent thicker than usual, “I’ve taken such good care of my girl. Be good for me.”

Nodding, you dug your nails into his shoulders. You could be good. He had been so good to you after all. Still your vision blurred and it had taken a while longer for him to finally go still inside of you. 

Hannibal kissed the side of your head, before pulling you to lay down against him. His thumb wiped away the stray tear that had managed to fall. “You did so well for me. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You sighed sleepily, curling into his side more comfortably, “I’m alright. Just want you.”

“We’ll take care of you later,” he promised, seeing how tired you were, “You should rest, darling. I’ll be right here.” His hand rested on your hip, thumbing at forming bruise gently. Between the soft touch and his quiet humming, it didn’t take long for you to find sleep. 

NextChapter

[synonymroll648]

What should fitz’s hair color in my band au

hmmmmm, this is an excellent question. we have basis in shannon's word for multiple hair colors:

-brown (natural hair color, duh)

-green (keefe and dex dyed his shampoo green which somehow made all of his hair neon green and spiky, if i recall correctly, in book 4)

-pink (shannon said, at one point, that if fitz could dye his hair, he'd dye it pink)

so if it were me, i'd pick one of those. depending on how much time the band au covers, you could have fitz's hair be different colors. gonna put me nerding out about colors and narrative stuff under the cut real quick. remember that this is just my thought process on approaching colors - if you're like, 'uh that's unnecessarily complicated,' then don't do it! no worries! pick and choose what you like.

the vibe of the fic in general plays a role in deciding which color you wanna go for.

green has an association with death, since elves wear that to funerals. that doesn't have to apply to your fic, but bringing that mindset in one way or another could be a nice tie-back to canon. green is also the color of life. the emotional connotation of green, in the books, is very complex. it's bittersweet. different hues of green also say different things. neon green, like it was in book 4, is electric. it's loud and bright and it screams, look at me. look at the energy i have. look at all the ways i could shock you. on the other hand, if you went for a more chill shade - like shamrock green - it'd be a lot closer to canon's emotional connotation of green. you could potentially do mint green as well without going way off from canon basis, since fitz likes the flavor of mint, and it'd be kinda funny for him to be like 'yeahhhh so the reason i dyed my hair this color is because it's color of my favorite dessert flavor. biana shut up and stop laughing or i'll drop you into a trash can.' the environment fitz is in could also affect how people (including himself) view the different shades of green. younger generations tend to think of dyed hair as sick af, but older generations usually think dyed hair is weird (/neg).

also, a little bit of storytime - once upon a time, i wanted to dye my hair green, and the shade i wanted wasn't mint green. both my grandma and mom both went 'if you go with any other shade than mint, you're gonna look like a stoner with mental health issues.' (paraphrased.) so uh. yeah.

i said a while back that i'd write an essay on the symbolism of pink haired!fitz, but i haven't done it yet, so i'm not gonna spoil everything i wanna say there. but keep in mind that pink is a color that has a feminine connotation with the general populace, whereas green has a gender neutral connotation with the general populace. obviously, colors don't have gender, but your band au might have fitz in a position of fame, so i thought you might wanna keep it in mind. anyway. back to pink. fitz choosing pink feels more like a statement than him picking green. in canon, green was an accident that he looked at and went 'oh hey, this actually doesn't suck too bad? i kinda like this?'. pink isn't canon canon (yet, i hope) but it feels more like a choice. it feels like him going, 'this is a color that i'm not supposed to like, but i do. so i'm gonna make it a part of me, and you can't stop me.' like with green, and every other color ever, different hues of pink have different vibes. baby pink is gentle. hot pink has the same vibe as neon green, except a bit more feminine. darker pink is a little less jarring than the other two shades, compared to his natural hair color. a bit more chill. a warmer vibe than shamrock. a little more welcoming.

and then, of course, you could just keep it brown the whole fic. that's understandable.

see, now this is probably where i'm supposed to go, 'yeahhh this is really long so i'm just gonna stop now. hope this helps!' but nah bro. nah. i have a bit more to say and i'm making it your problem :)

what i have in mind that i'd like to talk about is timelines. i have no idea how long your band au is stretching out, in terms of word count and time placement. i have no idea if there are any flashbacks or memories or non-linear narrative things going on. and so i am bringing timelines to the table.

let's start with thinking about the timeline we might have in canon, when it comes to fitz's hair. we have brown, green very briefly, back to brown, and maybe if shannon lets fitz dye his hair a color he chooses, pink at the end. if you want to have fitz's hair be different colors at different times in this universe, you could use a template similar to that. or you could do something entirely different, depending on the events you have in mind! maybe fitz never gets green hair, and goes straight to pink. maybe fitz gets green hair, and decides to keep it and never goes to pink. maybe fitz never dyes it at all, because he's comfortable with brown. it's up to you!

ok. now i'm gonna shut up. after a few more sentences. 1. hope that wasn't a waste of your time and 2. if you need ideas and second opinions on how your band au plot affects fitz's hair color, lmk and 3. finally shutting up, have a great rest of your day

[crochetedblorbos]

“Sometimes the present and the past need to stay separate.”

Character Name: Dr. Aster Huxley

Fandom: Mnemosyne [Podcast]

Voiced By: Varis Zima

Yarn Used:       Hair: Red Heart Super Saver - Black       Skin: CraftSmart Value - Coffee       Shoes/Trousers: CraftSmart Value - Dark Chocolate       Vest: CraftSmart Value - Taupe       Shirt: Lion Brand Vanna’s Choice - Dusty Purple       Lab Coat: CraftSmart Value - White       Eyes/Mouth: DMC #310

Basic pattern here.

This man is an absolute disaster and we love him for it. The head neurologist at Mnemosyne Space Prison, Huxley is, in his own way, just as much a prisoner as the people he experiments on, and I for one am terrified of what’s going to happen in the rest of this season. (By the way, y’all are sleeping on this podcast - go and listen to it here.)

One thing in particular that I did with Huxley, mostly because I found out it was an option, is that he’s stuffed with black polyfill rather than the traditional white stuff. They had it at Michael’s and I decided it would work better for him. I also realized I pulled my stitches tighter with him than I did with Joseph, so even though I used the same yarn and same size hook, he’s still just slightly smaller than Joseph. Somehow, though, it feels fitting. Other ways Huxley deviates from the standard pattern are as follows:

Shoes: Like with Mini, I didn’t change colors for his soles, so his shoes are a solid dark brown. Otherwise, they are made exactly the same way as Joseph’s. The official art on the Brainrot Presents Patreon shows that his pants don’t quite go all the way to his shoes, so for R8, I switched to his skin color, ch 1, and sc in the back loop of each st around, then did R9 in the same color before switching to his trousers.

Trousers: I did the trousers the same way I did Joseph’s, just beginning with R10 instead of R8.

Vest and Shirt: I followed the same variant for Huxley’s sweater vest as I did for Joseph’s hoodie up until R51. In R51, when I got to the center front of his body, I switched to the shirt color for 1 stitch, then switched back to the vest color around. For R52, the first sc and first inv dec were done in the shirt color before switching back to the vest color. In R53, the first 3 scs were in the shirt color and the rest done in vest color.       R54: Switch to shirt color. Ch 1, sc in front loop of each st around, sl st in first sc (18 sc).       R55: Switch to skin color. Ch 1, sc in back loop of each st around, sl st in first sc (18 sc).

**NOTE: Because of the extra round for Huxley’s neck, all steps from this point on are one round higher than on the standard pattern.

Hair: I once again probably made this way harder on myself than I needed to, but it’s Huxley, so frustrating is kind of the order of the day. I essentially did the same procedure I did with Mini, with two key exceptions. One is that I did the weave all the way up his scalp - Huxley isn’t really the man-bun type - and the other is that, starting with R64…mostly because that’s when I thought of it…I started pulling from both ends of my skein of black (this is a terrible idea and I don’t recommend it if you have literally any other options) and using black for both the scalp and the hair. It probably made things unnecessarily complicated, but I decided I liked the effect. (After a while, things were getting super tangled, so I cut off a small ball from one end and used that for the hair bit.) I also accidentally did an extra round of straight sc in the middle because I lost track of where I was, so his face is a little longer than normal, but it works.

Arms: I did Huxley’s arms the same way I did Joseph’s (using the shirt color rather than the vest color), except that I didn’t do the row of back loop scs after front loop hdcs, so he doesn’t exactly have cuffs on this shirt.

I also put magnets in his hands. To get them to stay in place while I stuffed the hands, I put another magnet on the outside to just hold them in place. It worked.

Lab Coat:  I improvised this as I went, but it worked out. (I also didn’t write it down as I went because I’m an idiot, and trying to count it I have no idea what I actually did where, so.) Basically, I did a ch38, then did rows of dc back and forth until the rectangle went from Huxley’s ankles to his waist. At that point, I started doing an invisible decrease at more or less the midpoint of his back (or as close to it as I could get) until I got up to where his underarms would be. To make the armholes, I worked up to where I wanted them to be in dc, then did a ch 9 and skipped three stitches, joined with a dc, and kept going in the other direction. The next round I did a sc in each chain stitch but dcs in the dcs. I topped it with a row of sc, then another row of sc in back loops only to make the collar. For the sleeves, I joined the yarn to the outside of the armholes and worked six rounds of dc to make them long enough (six rounds was just about perfect).

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (13)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It’s simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if…Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively:

“A future without you is a world without color.”

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: discussion of injuries which i know nothing about, effects of drunk driving.

SERIES: CHAPTER 12 | CHAPTER 14

Jeon Jeongguk missed you.

He missed you so much he felt like he was going crazy.

He didn't realize that a big part of you was occupying his whole being to the point that when the two of you separated ways, he felt like everything he had meant nothing if you weren't in his life.

He had been dreaming of buying his own apartment ever since he was young, but now that he finally had a house that he could call his own, Jeongguk came to know that this wasn't what he wanted.

What he desired was not a house—he wanted a home and home was wherever you were.

The walls surrounding him weren't going to protect him. It actually hurt him. The deafening silence kept on bouncing that he felt like he was gonna lose his sense of hearing.

Jeongguk decided he hated silence.

He wanted his house to be filled with your laughter.

"Seriously, Guk. Why am I here?"

Jeongguk couldn't speak as Red continued to glare at him.

Ji-eun and her father couldn't visit today because Namjoon had work to do. This left Jeongguk with no choice but to invite his ex-girlfriend in his abode. He hated being alone since it reminded him of how fucked up he was.

He needed a distraction.

"So now you're giving me the silent treatment?" Red rolled her eyes. This was one of her ex lover's habits that she hated. Jeongguk was so bad when it came to communicating.

"You need to tell me the truth if this is about her." Red sighed and Jeongguk froze. The former hadn't mentioned your name, yet Jeongguk was already affected. He knew Red was referring to you.

"I like her a lot and as much as I enjoy doing you a favor, I can't do this forever."

"Msorry..." Jeongguk avoided Red's eyes as he bit his lower lip. His heart hurt a lot.

"No." She shook her head as if her ex's apology was pure bullshit. This was truly unacceptable. "This isn't just about you, Jeongguk. Did you know that the whole office is either questioning my sexuality or thinking I'm a kiss-ass?"

"What?" The confused boy flicked his gaze at Red.

She snorted and then rolled her eyes once more.

"People think I'm in love with your soulmate because I basically cook her three meals a day. I also remind her to drink water, take her vitamins, leave her sweet notes, and change the flowers in her vase just because you are too much of a pussy to do it on your own!"

Jeongguk averted Red's glare again. She was right. He was a fucking coward—too scared to do all these good things on his own.

He was the one who left you, but he felt like you didn't want to do anything with him anymore. Jeongguk had accepted his sad fate, but it didn't mean he would stop taking care of you.

The truth was he was the one who cooked the food you eat every day. He was the one writing you sweet notes, he was the one bombarding Red text messages to kindly remind you to do the simple things you usually forgot because of your busy schedule.

Jeongguk was doing all of this without your knowledge.

How could he tell you when he knew he was unnecessarily mean to you?

"I mean it's about right. I told you I'm gonna stay here for a few months. It's over now. I don't want to be your tenant anymore."

What he said to you six months ago was deeply engraved in his head. This lie was what kept him awake at night.

Jeongguk was lying. Yes. It was true that he didn't want to be your tenant, but it didn't mean that he didn't want to live with you anymore.

But he was so confused—so fucked up in the head that the only solution was to push you away.

He stood by his belief. You did not understand anything and you did not love him.

But Jeongguk was sure of one thing—or at least he thought so.

"I-I," his adam's apple bobbed up and down. He was nervous.  "I think I like her..."

The girl's scoff indicated that she didn't like what he just said.

"You think?" She crossed her arms, making Jeongguk flinch. Her reaction reminded him of the time he met Red at Seokjin's birthday party.

"Why did you follow me, Jeongguk?" Red looked like she had seen a ghost, but she still folded her arms over her chest to intimidate Jeongguk.

It was easy to frighten him. All she had to do was to raise her brow and cross her arms.

"Wow," your soulmate gritted his teeth. "You haven't seen me in so long and this is how you greet me?"

Jeongguk wasn't expecting to see Red at this party. He was here because he wanted to be your date. The thought of you bringing Hoseok to this party made him so angry.

"How do you expect me to react, Guk? I don't want you here!" She was panicking. Jeongguk called her a bitch the last time they had seen each other.

Right now, Red couldn't help but think that Jeongguk would cause ruckus again.

This couldn't happen. Not right now. Not when people were watching Seokjin, and definitely not when you were here.

Red went to the veranda to get some air. She couldn't face you, couldn't face Jeongguk, and couldn’t face Seokjin. The latter had no idea that Jeongguk was the ex she was talking about. They hadn't had the chance to talk about your soulmate because Seokjin was too caught up with the divorce trial.

"So that's it, huh?" Jeongguk clenched his fist. "You'll just decide you don't want me anymore just because you found your soulmate!?"

"Yes!" Red did not even hesitate. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She was so scared. All she could think about was the fact that Jeongguk could destroy this evening.

"I found my soulmate and I'm okay now. You should be happy too, JK. You have met the person destined for you."

Jeongguk looked away. How could he be happy? He found you, but he liked Red.

Red knew what was running inside his mind, so she shook her head and looked at Jeongguk straight in the eyes.

"Do not hurt her, Jeon. She's a one of a kind girl. You can't find another person as sweet and smart as her."

'But you're sweet and smart too!' Jeongguk wanted to argue.

"She saved my life. I owe her everything I have. I wouldn't even be able to meet my soulmate if it wasn't for her." She sobbed.

"So don't. Please. Don't hurt her."

Jeongguk blinked back to reality upon realizing that he broke Red's request.

He hurt you. Bad.

"You have to be one hundred percent sure about what you feel for her, Jeongguk. She deserves better than this."

He remained quiet, still pondering on what he felt.

Six months passed, but he felt like it wasn't enough to ease his doubts.

"No." He blurted out. "I-I like her,"

Red's expression softened, but she wasn't convinced yet. Jeongguk was stammering as if he wasn't certain.

"Are you really sure? I know I'm always pressuring you, but I want you to be real." She said carefully.

Jeongguk's heart was hammering. It felt like it wanted to be free from the cold cage he built.

"I don't know!" He looked like he was in a lot of pain. Tears were actually threatening to fall down his cheeks.

Jeongguk hated feelings. Why were they so complicated?

"Okay, Gukkie. Calm down."

Gukkie. You called him this. Jeongguk had another realization. That nickname was only cute when it came out of your pretty mouth.

He wanted to kiss you.

"I think you're just guilty and confused right now," Red started.

He could only listen.

"Guilty because you are being held back by the amount of time we spent together. You drilled it in your head that I am the one for you. You ignored the fact that soulmates exist and now that you're experiencing how the soulmate bond works, you became confused."

Red could feel that Jeongguk was skeptical of his own feelings. He was probably thinking that it was impossible for him to fall in love with you with just a few months.

But you see, that was how the soulmate bond worked. It made the impossible possible.

"I know it's hard to suddenly believe into something especially when all your life, you ignored and denied the existence of it."

Jeongguk only pursed his lips into a thin line.

Red continued.

"You feel guilty for trying to unlearn what you believe is a myth, but it's okay, Jeongguk. It's okay to let me go. You aren't cheating. Your feelings simply changed. Don't let our memories together ruin what your heart truly wants."

Confusion was eating him alive again.

"H-How do you know all of this?" He asked softly, making Red chuckle.

"Why do you think it took me so long to tell you that I found my soulmate, huh?"

Jeongguk shook his head. He honestly had no idea.

"It’s because I also went through this, Guk. It took me months to finally admit the truth to you since I was so guilty. We have been together for almost a decade and I feel like it would be such a waste to just let you go, but the heart wants what it wants. It's so much easier to just let things go."

Jeongguk grimaced. He regretted being an ass to Red when they broke up. If he only knew that it was this hard to be in denial...

"But don't get me wrong, okay? Letting go doesn't mean that you have to completely erase your memories with people. I still treasure the moments we spent together and I love you, Jeongguk—not in a romantic way, but I will always love you."

He was his first love, his first friend. Jeongguk had always been there for her. She knew he truly loved her.

As Red talked about their memories together, Jeongguk then started to reminisce the moments he had with you.

It was weird.

Weird that your memories together were not even half as many as the moments he spent with Red, yet all that's on his mind was you.

This was what terrified Jeongguk. You barely spent time together, but what he felt for you was strong—too strong that it defeated his ten years with Red.

"I don't know what to do," Jeongguk choked out a sob. It's annoying because Red was laughing.

"You poor bunny. I wish I could tell you how I did it, but you have to figure this on your own." This was the last thing she said before leaving Jeongguk alone.

Alone with his treacherous thoughts.

He kept playing the conversation he had with Red, making him realize that his own thoughts was the one making this hard for him.

Red was wrong.

Jeongguk wasn't confused.

He knew exactly what he felt for you.

He was just too much of a coward to admit it.

He never learned.

The six months he spent away from you should have served as a lesson by now, but no. Here he was, still ignoring the ache in his chest.

Jeongguk regretted leaving you months ago. He had to admit that it wasn't instant though.

That's the thing about regret. It came into a beautiful form—a disguise telling him that this was what he wanted even though he knew deep down that it was not.

He hated himself because of this. There were many warning signs from other people. He had heard so many times that regret was a two-faced bitch. It felt good at first, making him feel like he was floating because he was finally free.

But then it would come back to haunt him—to drown him with what ifs and I should have—to suffocate him until he couldn't breathe anymore.

Jeongguk hated himself because of this. Why couldn't he be like others? He envied those people who could express their feelings in the right way. Those people who knew how to dodge regret.

He wasn't like them. He got overwhelmed too quickly—causing him to panic and do stupid things.

But really. What was his way of expressing himself? How could he ease the doubts in his head?

What kind of outlet would serve as his way to be able to express the heaviness in his chest?

Jeongguk could only think about one thing.

He went to his art room. There was too much space in this house, but his loneliness still couldn't fit.

Everything in this room was sad. The easel looked sad, the palette looked sad, his blank canvas looked sad.

It was sad that he couldn't find the will to paint anymore.

What was the use of seeing colors when he couldn't do what he loved? What was the used of seeing colors when he couldn't see the color in your eyes?

Jeongguk's lips trembled as he gripped the brush in his hand.

He really couldn't do it.

Maybe he should look at his previous works to get inspiration?

Yeah. That's probably the best thing to do...

Jeongguk brought out the box full of the things you had bought for him.

It had been half a year since he touched these materials. He couldn't bring himself to even look at this before. It reminded him so much of you.

Jeongguk let out a shaky breath.

The box was overloading with art. The months he spent with you caused him to produce these lovely sketches.

He smiled while looking at the pile of sticky notes on the floor. These were the ones he drew when he was overwhelmed with colors.

Sketching was much simpler. It calmed his raging emotions.

Jeongguk started to absentmindedly piece together the pictures in the sticky notes drawn by him.

"Holy shit," his eyes suddenly dilated upon realizing that these tiny sketches made up a larger picture of your eyes when they were put together—similar to a puzzle.

Jeongguk's blood was rushing. It was as if he was slapped by reality.

The larger picture was your eyes, the small ones that were drawn in each sticky notes were every tiny detail about you: your mouth, your neck, your fingers, and everything in between.

This was it.

This was his way of expressing feelings.

His lips lie, but his artworks tell.

Jeongguk understood now what Red was implying. She was right. No one could help him, not even the love you claimed you felt for him.

This was all on Jeongguk. He realized that he had to admit it himself that he loved you, that he wanted to be with you, and that he believed in soulmates because he wanted to and not because other people force him to do so.

Realization was the complete opposite of regret. The latter was slow, the former was instant. It would hit you when you least expected it.

Jeongguk was certain.

His doubts were cleared because he knew you could see colors now.

You should be able to see with flashing colors and light, so why weren't you?

"J-Jimin?" You whispered, uncertain, unstable, and unhappy.

You were surrounded by negative prefix that was making him feel sick.

When Jeongguk found out that he loved you, he imagined begging for forgiveness at your feet— telling you how much of an idiot he was and that he was willing to take whatever you could give—no, scratch that. You didn't have to give anything at all.

It was his time to show you how much you meant to him.

This was why Jeongguk texted you, asking you to meet him. When you didn't answer, he was forced to call you.

Unfamiliar voice welcomed him to bring the terrible news.

The person on the other line told him that you were in a hospital. Your car crashed because you were driving under the influence of alcohol.

Jeongguk didn't know what to do after knowing this information. He was out of his mind. It was a miracle that he was able to reach the hospital in one piece.

He remembered running like crazy, he was crossing the street even though cars were approaching. He ignored the profanities leaving their mouths.

He just didn't care about anything. He just needed to get to you.

He couldn't get to you—at least not now. The doctors were still treating you. Luckily they told Jeongguk everything. He didn't even need to show his I.D to prove that the two of were related. He only needed to tell them that he was your soulmate.

It's funny how he refused to believe in the idea of soulmate before, but right now, he was using it to beg other people to believe that you were destined to be together.

Jeongguk waited in vain, staring into the space and praying to God he didn't believe in.

Desperation always led people into doing things they never thought they'd ever do.

"You're Jimin, right?" You continued to ask, still unsure.

Jeongguk didn't know how to answer. You were acting strange. Couldn't you tell that it was him who was in front of you now? Was this one of effects of the accident?

"I'm sorry I keep asking," you bit the inside of your cheeks as tears filled your eyes.

Jeongguk was quick to wipe your tears away. His touch was gentle, but you still winced.

Everything about you hurt.

"I can't see you. I-I can't see anything. It's all black..."

Jeongguk's heart sank, his blood running cold.

What did you just say?

"I'm so scared, Jimin-ah. This is different from the colorless world." Your tears were flowing non-stop, similar to the painful sound that kept on hammering your soulmate's chest.

"I feel like I'm going crazy. There's nothing here, it's just darkness sucking me in."

You were quivering in agitation. You felt helpless. It was as though everyone was fully geared up and you're here, naked—just waiting to be taken advantage of.

Being blind made you more vulnerable. You just wished this wasn't forever. The doctors said that there were two probable reasons why you couldn't see.

The first one was because of the accident. They already treated your injuries, but they said you still needed an eye surgery. Apparently, you hit your head when your car crashed. They said you didn't need to worry since this was the most common type of treatment for people experiencing temporary blindness.

Temporary.

You hoped this was temporary. Your heart couldn't take it if the reason why you were blind was because of your tragic fate.

The doctors told you that your blindness might be because of the existence of soulmate. It had come to your learning that the medical world was now considering this myth as a reality.

If this was the case, you were really damned.

"I'm sorry..." Jeongguk blurted out. He couldn't stop crying after knowing what happened to you.

This was not how it was supposed to go. Why was the universe being so cruel to him? Was he wrong? Was breaking from the phase of denial not enough? Was he really your soulmate? But why...why did you turn blind after he finally accepted the love he felt for you? Was it not enough?

Was Jeongguk not enough? Did he hurt you to the point that nothing, not even his love, could bring you back to light?

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry!" Jeongguk wailed, he was aching to touch you, but he was scared to cause you pain.

He caused you pain.

He would always cause you pain.

This was evident when you felt a sharp pang in your chest upon recognizing his voice.

He wasn't Jimin.

You did not pour your heart to Park Jimin.

You told everything to the wrong person.

You made yourself vulnerable in front of Jeon Jeongguk. Again.

"J-Jeongguk?" Your voice was loaded with disappointment and sadness.

He sobbed even harder.

"I-It's me," his voice cracked. "I'm here."

It's me. I'm here. If you were the person you were before, you would probably be rejoicing now.

Jeon Jeongguk was here. You didn't know if he was here because of you or not. In the end, it didn't matter since:  "I'm glad," you said." I'm glad you're here."

You did not sound like you were glad. Not at all. Jeongguk couldn't be mistaken. Your voice was too monotonous to be considered happy. Your expression was impassive it made you look like you had no life.

But you were glad. You're sure of this because at least you didn't have to beg Jimin or any other people to ask Jeongguk to come see you.

He was here so you could already tell him what you had been meaning to.

"I'm sorry, Jeongguk," this was what you meant.

He did not understand.

Why were you saying sorry when he should be the one begging you to take him back?

"I'm sorry I made you feel uncomfortable so many times. I didn't mean to—"

"Don't say that," he cut you off, but you continued.

This time you were smiling.

"Allow me to," you gulped. "Allow me to so that I could understand why."

What were you saying now?

"I have to apologize and you have to tell me what I did wrong, Jeongguk. You have to tell me what I did to make you hate me this much."

You were crying. The pain was unbearable. It was making you think of the worst case scenario. It was making you imagine things that weren't true. It was making you feel like his hatred towards you was the reason why you couldn't see.

You were blaming him.

You had the right to.

He hurt you so much.

"What did I do to deserve this?" You had been a good person. You weren't hurting anyone consciously. You had been giving everything you had, so why? Why was your soul still bleeding?

"I let you go, Jeongguk. I am letting you go. Can't you do the same? Can't you really let go of the hatred in your heart and just let me live?"

Jeongguk couldn't speak. You were feeding your head with lies.

Jeon Jeongguk did not hate you because Jeon Jeongguk loved you.

He loved you with all of his heart.

"Let me go, Jeongguk."

With his body.

"I don't want to be your soulmate anymore."

And soul.

You did not want to love Jeon Jeongguk.

You loved him. Once. But not this time.

[bangtanfancamp]

𝙷𝚒 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜!

𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚒 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 & 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚙. 𝙻𝚘𝚕. 𝙸𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢, 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢, 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝟽 ✨ 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚢e-- 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝚂𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊:

•2022 has been a year of massive personal growth for me, and has been hallmarked by leaning into the shapeshifter mutability in myself that I have always been too scared to embrace. I’ve given myself room to really lean into my intellectual and spiritual curiosity and it has been so rewarding, but it has in fact, turned me into the person who will find a way to sneak in the question “when is your birthday?” in casual conversation so I can go home (if I wait that long) and do a deep dive into your natal chart but never tell you😂

•my only concrete goal this year was to try to turn our two bedroom apartment on the fringe of the city into a homey cottage fit for the shire if Hayao Miyazaki had animated it. I’ve made a ton of progress in the past 10 months! DIYing this space has been my biggest creative outlet this year and I’m so proud of it. I can share pics if you guys want to see. I document a good bit of it on TikTok but I’m still a sucker for still images.

•I just celebrated my birthday in October ! 🥳 each year that I age feels more and more like coming home to myself.

•After my unnecessarily dramatic hair saga last year, I am back at home as a brunette. Most of the blonde shattered its way up my hair strands and gave me a chemical cut I never asked for- BUT! - I spent lot of the year learning to be kinder to myself and dealing with complicated emotions tied up in the connection between my hair, my femininity and my self esteem. I got to play with box braids and extensions all summer before finally taking them all out this fall, coloring the brassy fragments on my ends back to black and rocking my now thick and healthy collarbone length hair. I gave myself some curtain bangs and thought “this fall will be my Kiki’s delivery service/ Howl pendragon era.” Turns out this is actually my Noel Fielding era. 😂 I realized last week that Yoongi and I essentially have two versions of the same haircut. After initially having a small crisis about it, I’m instead choosing to interpret as: I, too, am also hot like long haired min Yoongi. 😌 ( I know it’s a stretch. Just let me have it, okay? I need this.) I have also chosen to fully embrace the abundant amount of white hair that has become rampant in my roots this year. I started getting premature white hair at 17 and it has multiplied rapidly this year. Zack lovingly refers to it as my inner Targaryen becoming too strong to hide anymore, and as a diehard Daenerys Targaryen fan, I’ll take it. When I’m having a bad hair day, all the strands of white drape over the black like a frizzy cobweb, but on a good day, it looks pretty dope. I figure the sooner I embrace it, the sooner I have the worlds easiest Storm Halloween costume.

•Lizzie mcalpine and Delaney Bailey have dominated the biggest chunk of my non- K-pop music consumption this year.

•I’m really trying to lean into a soft version of seasonal living. It’s looked a lot like leaning into what feels right for my brain and body as my environment shifts, and for me, fall & winter have been notoriously difficult in the past. But in the last few months, I have been reminded that it is okay to go at my own pace. I rediscovered the benefits of sitting down to do little things and make with my hands. Working with my hands is incredibly grounding for me- it slows my mind and steadies my anxieties. And it makes my daily life more gentle when I have a homemade pastry waiting for me or a small project to enjoy making just for myself that isn’t for other people or their consumption. I’m looking forward to the slowness of fall as someone who’s mind usually races like summer. I’m looking forward to hosting my family’s thanksgiving for the first time and decorating for Christmas. Making stars out of paper or having pastry dough under my nails. I realized I wasn’t doing those small things for myself anymore. I became an artist who spent most of her time consuming other peoples art and forgetting to make my own. I forgot the way it can heal.

•I’ve started reading physical books again! For the past few years, I hadn’t found any that gripped me the way fics on this platform did, and I had so much trouble with my attention span and focus that I struggled to slow myself down enough to read books bound in paper. But this fall, I’ve stumbled on some gems and my gosh, I forgot the tranquility and relief of reading a proper paper novel. The Nature of Witches changed my life and I am currently devouring the invisible life of Addie LaRue. Also can we discuss how much softer on the eyes paper is ? My migraines have been so much less obnoxious and grateful for the break.

•I have become infatuated with the bookbinding TikTok and fell down a rabbit hole recently of people who hand bind their favorite fics into physical novels and I’d REALLY love to take a crack at it soon. With so many people deleting their work here (as is fully their right) there are so many stories that are so precious to me that I’d love to have on a shelf in my studio. And I secretly would love to do it for my own work too. It’s crazy when you realize that people really do supply us with novel length work for free here- it’s wild when you realize the word count of the average ya novel isn’t that different from your favorite multi-chapter fic

•like I mentioned earlier, I both terrified and over the moon to host Thanksgiving this year so if you have any tips, please help 😅 I’ve hosted two friendsgivings before but this will be a little different. Zack’s family is from the Philippines and have never had a traditional American thanksgiving and I’m stressing over impressing them. Thanksgiving is a huge thing filled with tradition for my family, but my grandmother who brought it to life for us passed in 2020. I’m planning to try to recreate her old recipes this year, which I think will be cathartic but will most likely also result in me crying my eyes out in a bowl of potatoes. Thanksgiving brings up a lot of complicated feelings for me because I LOVE the holidays but I have a lot really strongly toxic family power dynamics tied to that day (as I’m sure most of us do) and often the dread of those old things creates a stress in me that’s entirely disproportionate to what’s ACTUALLY happening in the present. My hope is to find a way to extract the beauty of that day and disconnect from the yucky things that still lurk around the edges. I’m excited to form new traditions but I’m still grieving the loss of the old. That version of thanksgiving will never exist again, and that’s hard for me. There are nasty things that I’m glad to see gone, but my stress lies in trying to preserve what was good without dragging the old toxicity into it. Dang, that’s a lot of pressure on some turkey and mashed potatoes 😅

•I won’t dive too much into this point too much because there’s still a lot I’m learning and nothing is concrete yet, but in this past year, Ive learned that there is a very strong chance that I’m neurodivergent. It’s been quite a ride for me. The way it makes certain parts of my story make so much more sense is crazy. It’s created the strangest relief and sense of grace to realize how absurd my expectations of myself have been with a brain that was never intended to do the things I tried to demand of it. Unfortunately, most the few people in my life that I’ve shared this information with have really failed to show up in helping me unpack it. It’s been disappointing but I’m so grateful to have discovered any of this at an age where I’m mature enough to know that their response says more of them than it does about me.

•2022 has been such a bittersweet year to be ARMY. There have been so many weird false starts and so much heavy news alongside such beautiful heartfelt messages from the boys and such amazing new content. So much confusion and deferred hope right alongside new beginnings and a wide open future that we’re all walking into together. All of it has made me mourn for myself but also cheer for them. I’m writing this with “astronaut” by Jin playing in my head on a loop, and it makes my heart soft- for him, for myself, for them, for all of us really. I am still so grateful for all the content they’ve given us. Honestly, I know they have released so much this year alone that I have fallen behind on and old content I haven’t yet watched. There will be plenty to occupy us in the magic shop these next few years. I already admired Namjoon, but this year has increased that tenfold. He has been so wise, so intelligent, so gracious and so brave. I’ve learned so much from him about it means to be an artist. What it means to grow as a person. How change is excruciating but necessary and how to find the beauty in it. His vulnerability breaks my heart and stitches it up all at once. I listen to his art Basel podcast episode constantly and the way he says “ (army) is really special” is etched on my heart permanently. Finding our way through the unknown is so scary, but we’re doing it together in a way and that is one the biggest gifts BTS has ever given us. I will always be grateful to them for it (and just a little bit more in love with them)💜

• And finally, i still have so, so many more stories to share: I’m just the slowest writer. I get so distracted by other projects that I can finish quicker than the monster fics I currently have drafted. 😅 I’m hoping to share an update post soon with the percentages of how close some of these are to being done and how far off others are. I actually tried to share my Jimin graduation fic just a few weeks ago, but after making all my massive annotations to it in tumblr, the app crashed and erased them all. I had to take a lap and cry about it before I could come back to share this. In fact, it did the same thing to me as I made this post today and it nearly broke my heart. Does this kind of crap happen on AO3? Cuz help. Lol. Anyway, should I maybe make shorter stories to share in the meantime? Or make these big fics into multi chapter ones instead? Idk. What do you guys think? I’m spending a lot of time working on my fantasy au Chosen by the moon and really loving where it’s going. I’m so proud of myself for crafting something with a big overarching plot since I usually just extrapolate the emotion of one small scene between two characters into an entire fic. What about you guys- what members and tropes are you wishing to see from me? What stories are you hoping to see finished and what new ones are you excited for? I’m really itching to write something fluffy and romantic but with magic 😛✨ also, do you guys care WHEN things are released- like thematically? Will you read a summer story at Christmas? or a witchy fic in November? Idk. Let a girl know :) lol.

That’s all I’ve got for now. Thank you to everyone who’s stuck around and every new that’s come to join us. If you have any questions, I’d be happy to answer them. I hope you’re all having the best fall.

I love you !💕

[crqstalite]

2021's Summary of Art

We certainly live in interesting times. I think that reflects pretty well in my art this year, considering the batty amount of changes my style went through as the year went on. Unfortunately, only have eleven instead of twelve drawings this year because of unforeseen circumstances. However, I did significantly more art than I did last year to the point I think I can safely say I did more than writing, and perhaps more than the last two years combined. Oops. Explanations under the cut + 2020 here + a blank version here!

January! My Holiday Harbinger gift for the lovely @faejilly of their Ella Shepard! This one was the more adventurous of the two I did, mostly because of the overlay I put on top of a handful of constellations. I genuinely can't remember which ones they are, I'm not really into astrology. I am very glad that they liked it though!

February! I believe the first time I ever did real ship art? And subsequently, the first time I drew Kaidan this year. It's a little flat and I don't love it as much as I did before, but I'm still pretty pleased with how I figured out the posing for both muses. Never been a fan of drawing kisses, but never been a fan of drawing two muses actually interacting either. The second muse is my AJ Shepard.

March! My darling Svenja Tabris in her Warden armor and looking her best while up to trouble in the Brecilian forest. I discovered the splatter brush and never really looked back on this one, but the first time I ever drew her. Also, the second reason I despise drawing Warden armor. I hate the blue part of it because its so tedious to color, shade and highlight.

April! During one of my sketch giveaways for a handful of mutuals, Raya Auren (who belongs to the lovely @sheyshen). As you can see, probably the first time I learned how to actually draw noses properly. Was not super great with nostrils beforehand, but we figured it out! Loved drawing her features as well, which gave me a foray into something new.

May! My darling Citlali Velasquez (who I almost drew every month this year), just posing somewhere out on the Citadel in an outfit I mashed together from pictures on Pinterest. Hands down my most fashionable muse, second only to Brione because women's pantsuits are hot. Got to play around with a sheer shirt and leather (which I still haven't learned to texture properly) in this picture, as well as levels of lighting.

June! A birthday gift for my mutual @sheyshen of their Kara! I believe I did a photo of her the year prior, so its nice to see the improvement from then, including the radical change in style between then and now. Do go and read the fic she's part of, Koren's Breaking The Bad News.

July! A giveaway reward for the lovely @pigeontheoneandonly of their Nathaly Shepard. It was a real treat to work on her, and I believe one of the few reasons I haven't drawn the N7 armor since then. There's quite the demand for detail on it, but I loved drawing it for them! Do go and read the fic she's part of, Pigeon's Nathaly Shepard series.

August! The second time I did ship art this year, and one I'm actually still really happy with -- of my Citlali Velasquez and Joker. I have many soft spots for them <3 Not actually sure what sparked drawing this one, but the reason I will never draw the crew outfit from three again unless paid. It is unnecessarily complicated and I hate it.

September! So quick "fun" fact, I was in my school's competitive marching band from about August to December this year. TL;DR, I'll literally never do it again because the schedule is destructive and a little dehumanizing tbh. Either way, no work done this month because of a lack of time.

October! Darling Citlali...again. She was my second or third foray into a more painterly style that didn't rely at all on the blender tool, and I loved working with all her color values. Super wacky that I just don't work for a month and then start slapping colors down again in a complete 180 of a style. Thankfully she still looks like herself here, after all I tend to draw her and then she looks like a completely different character because I've morphed into a different artist.

November! Reyna Hawke, finally visualized into all her glory. Finally, I collected all six stones -- I mean all of my main Dragon Age protags. November was literally the first time I had them all drawn in a partially consistent style (Marzie's was October last year I believe), and after her redesign. The first time I've drawn her post-DA2 armor as well, but during the Here Lies the Abyss mission.

December! Can't tag them or name their character just yet (Holiday Harbinger's gifting doesn't open until January 😞), but I adored working on this piece so much!! It's a pose I tend not to like using since the muse's face isn't head on, but working with their character and being able to give them art I'm really proud of was the best part of working on this!!

[sickficsies-and-whumpsies]

Request for @animewhump: she requested a sick!Inumaki, and I’m here to deliver. I hope that this is somewhat good!! Inumaki’s such a complex character to write, and since I haven’t read the manga (yet) everything’s even more complicated, but I did what I could…! Let me know what you think :)

TW in the tags.

////////

Inumaki wakes up feeling not too hot. 

Quite literally. 

Before he has the chance to ask Ieiri for some pills or whatever she is going to deem necessary, Gojou decides to drag Inumaki and the other second years outside, for training. 

Not that he stays with them for long, anyway.

Something comes up, something that needs his attention, so he leaves his students alone, trusting their judgement when it comes to training individually and in groups without adult supervision.

In hindsight, Inumaki thinks, he is glad that Gojou isn’t there now. The teacher would probably sense his student’s discomfort immediately, and he would force him to train even harder. 

Had it been someone else, someone with a little more tact, they would probably ask Inumaki to get some rest, but Gojou is… different, when it comes to handling problems like the one at hand.

Maki dries her forehead, panting slightly. She's sporting shorts and a T-shirt, wearing a cap to protect herself from the boiling sunheat, and Panda definitely looks too hot for comfort.

But Inumaki can't quite understand how.

He keeps pulling at his shirt, trying to wrap it tighter around his quaking shoulders, teeth chattering as if he were bathing in the Pacific Ocean in the middle of December. The sun does nothing to warm his freezing skinー it isn’t, he knows it isn’t, but it sure feels like itー and he is actually convinced that his toes are eventually going to fall off, at this rate.

“-ge, you okay there?” Panda calls, waving a paw from a few meters from where Inumaki is sitting on the grass. Even Maki turns around, cocking a concerned eyebrow at the boy’s unusual stiffness. 

Normally, he’d be participating way more actively, but today something about Inumaki feels indubitably off.

“Inumaki? Hey, are you alrー”

“Salmon.”

Maki is there too, looming behind Panda. She crouches in front of Inumaki, bringing a careful hand forward. “Here, let me…” 

Panda cuts in, approaching him, “You’re shaking pretty bad. Are you sick?”

Inumaki shakes his head, stubborn, averting his gaze, “Bonito flakes.”

Before she makes contact, however, Inumaki bolts upright, knees buckling under his weight. He takes a couple of tentative steps back, staggering, fists clenched at his sides as he snarls, “Bonito flakes!”

“Okay, okay.” Panda calls, eyes wide, taking a step back and extending one arm to force Maki to do the same, “But, huh, are you positive you're fine?”

“Salmon.” he nods, trying to keep the shaking at bay, to no avail. The young sorcerer sluggishly gets up from his spot, stumbling a bit but managing to stay upright. Lilac, half-lidded eyes blink at the offending sunlight that blinds them, and after taking a few steadying breathsー not that it works, reallyー Inumaki heads back to training, ignoring the concerned looks that are being casted in his direction.

Sparring continues without further interruptions, though Inumaki can feel himself getting weaker and weaker as seconds go by, bones freezing despite the melting heat of July. He feels jittery, clammy and wrong. 

Well-aware of the piercing gazes of his friends, evidently keeping an eye on him, he tries to look fine. He doesn't like this, he's never liked being a problem, not when he can't even explicitly explain, not when he's forced to listen to the people around him play guess. 

It's frustrating.

Sweaty palms reach to brush damp ash-grey hair off his forehead, as beads of sweat drip from the messy mane, down his forehead, onto his nose and cheeks.

He feels cold, and yet, he's uncomfortably aware of the heat radiating from his body. Maki’s blows ground him painfully, but he's aware of how dodging continuously will only result in his friends fussing over him, unnecessarily. 

“Put some spirit into it, would you?” Maki grins, cocky, landing another blow that sends the boy stumbling backwards. 

Panda watches from not too far away, humming. 

Maki’s staff jabs at Inumaki’s shoulder, pushing him backwardsー she is definitely holding back, it's painfully obvious at this point. He manages to catch himself from falling, ending up a few steps away from his opponent. His weak knees are bent, and his hands attempt futilely to pry themselves away from the kneecaps they seem glued to. Inumaki struggles with each rasped, shallow inhale, trying to will the thick fog away.

He can't, he can't! 

He needs to straighten up, to protect himself from the upcoming attacks. He's not allowed to slack like that, he needs to be physically strong too, because his technique has its limits, and he knows it far too well.

He knows he needs to focus, he's aware of the others’ gazes on him, and yet, before he can bring his eyes up to meet theirs, his vision flickers. 

The suffocating darkness gets ahold of his being, overwhelms his senses, drags him under, deeper below the surface.

The sorcerer lets out a pitiful yelp, choked.

He's out before he even hits the ground.

Until, he doesn't. 

Maki has seen it coming, she's been able to tell that her friend had been a push away from collapsing for a bit, and the confirmation comes when, after taking a few steps toward him, he doesn't acknowledge her at all, and drops like a sack of wet cement.

She leaps to cross the distance between them when Inumaki starts to bleach alarmingly fast during the fall, revealing the painfully obvious flush on his cheeks and eartips. 

“Inumaki!!”

“Toge!!” Panda cries simultaneously from his position, running toward his friends. Maki hooks her arms under Inumaki’s armpits, and starts to lower him to the ground, wincing at the heat. 

“Damn it, he’s burning up.” she hisses. Maki kneels next to her friend, patting his cheeks as she attempts to rouse him, to no avail.

Panda watches horrified as Inumaki’s face twists in discomfort, mouth gaping as he sputters shapeless sounds, eyelids twitching. He kneels to his other side, silent as Maki grabs Inumaki’s shoulders and shakes him slightly, hoping to make him come to, at last.

And, surprisingly, he does after a moment. 

Inumaki shoots into an upright position with a cry, shaking uncontrollably in Maki’s hold. She can see just how disoriented and delirious her friend is, pinpoint pupils darting around like a deer in the headlights', struggling to breathe.

He’s sweating and shaking, trying to pry himself from the hands on his shouldersー stay back, stay back stay back stay back stay back…!

Maki sees Inumaki's lips start to move, and immediately lets go of him, urging Panda to step back, for their own safety, and Inumaki's, too. If he uses his technique now, he's going to get worse, and right now they can't afford that.

“Inumaki, it's okay, you're okay. It's us, it's Maki and Panda.” she speaks, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible, “You're sick, okay? Do you understand what I'm saying? Inumaki.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, nodding after an instant. The two other sorcerers relax visibly, shoulders sagging in relief.

“Can we come close, please?” Panda asks tentatively. Another nod, frantic.

And so they approach him again, careful with their movements, slow and calculated not to startle him further. Panda nods to Maki, and she nods back, trying to catch Inumaki's shifty gaze.

“I'm going to feel your forehead for a second. Can you tell me what's up?” Maki's tone is soft yet firm, determined to get to the bottom of this. Her slightly calloused hand sets itself onto Inumaki's forehead, and her olive-green eyes widen behind the square spectacles. She hisses without even realising it, and lets her hand shift and move down to touch the side of her friend's neck.

“Yeah, definitely a fever. High, too.”

“Geez, alright.” Panda swallows the lump in his throat. He's always been a bit of a worrywart, especially when it came to his two best friends, “How long have you been feeling sick, Toge? “Why didn't you tell us!?”

“N-nori seawe-ed, soy sau-sauce, rice? Bonito flakes, rice.” Inumaki wheezes, shaky, and collapses, colliding with Panda's fur. The latter frowns, and so does Maki.

“We're notー we didn't get that, sorry.” he apologises, mortified, “Toge, do you think you can text us what's wrong?” Panda adds, handing him his own phone.

Inumaki grabs it with unsteady hands, sweaty brow furrowed as he types, painfully slow. After a minute, he hands the device back to Panda, taking a breather.

I feel bad. My head hurts. It's too cold.

“We should probably get you out of the sun, then.” Panda cues, and Maki nods immediately, grabbing their stuff. 

“Can you carry him?” she asks.

“Yeah, I got him. Call Gojou-sensei in the meantime, please.”

“Already on it.” Maki hums and heads toward Inumaki's room to get it ready, phone held between her ear and shoulder, praying for the teacher to pick up soon. 

“I'm going to lift you, now. Hang in there, alright, bud?” Panda asks, no, pleads, and he feels Inumaki nod, just barely, but it's there and right now, it's all he needs.

As soon as she leaves, Panda lets his gaze fall onto Inumaki's again. Everything about the boy screams discomfort: his already-pale skin has lost even more color, and splotches of red cover his cheeks and ears. His hair is damp, plastered to his face uncomfortably, and Panda delicately brushes it off his eyes.

They're clouded, dull, and it's obvious that he's in pain.

Gently, oh-so carefully, he lifts Inumaki, arms hooked under his knees and behind his back, neck crooked uncomfortably when the boy's head lolls to his side and his face is buried into the fur that tickles his nose.

Panda walks slowly, trying not to jostle the sick sorcerer. He whimpers, half-choked wordsー he wasn't limiting himself to onigiri ingredients anymore, eitherー escaping his trembling lips, eyes fluttering. 

“Shhh, it's alright, Toge. It's okay. We're almost there, your room isn't far. Maki already warned Gojou-sensei, and she's getting the room ready.” he hushes, tender.

Inumaki's dry sob is painfully grounding, and Panda's heart clenches in his chest.

“H'rs…” Inumaki slurs, and Panda almost freezes. It's not a command, per se, so it's not harmful, but he shouldn't be speaking now.

“I'm sorry.” Panda hums, sympathetic and worried, “Try not to talk. Rest. We're close, almost there.”

“Boni-ito fl-flakes.”

“Mh, ‘no’? What do you mean?”

Inumaki groans, fingers fisting the fur. It doesn't hurt, so Panda doesn't really mind. If it helps his friend to distract himself, then he won't tell him to stop.

Panda can feel Inumaki getting more limp, but the boy doesn't look like he's falling asleep, no. Instead, the young sorcerer seems exhausted, spent as if he'd just used his technique ten times in a row, on the brink of fainting.

The Cursed Corpse speeds up, and soon they're in front of Inumaki's room, door slightly ajar.

“I think he's getting worse, he looks so tired…” Panda says, and gingerly lays Inumaki down onto his bed. Maki's fast to take the boy's boots off, and she sets them on the windowsill. 

“Panda, is that you?” Maki calls from the inside, and opens the door for her friends, stepping aside to allow Panda to walk in without making Inumaki bump into the doorframe.

“How is he?”

“I got a thermometer from Ieiri-sensei, and fever reducers if it gets too high.” she says, and Panda hums out in gratitude. 

“And his mission?”

“Inumaki, hey.” Maki calls, running her fingers through his hair, and he only blinks sheepishly in response.

“I'm going to take your temperature. The thermometer's tip is cold, but bear with me for a moment.”

She slides the object under his sweaty armpit, and Inumaki shivers violently. Panda pats his head, and while Maki waits and makes sure that Inumaki doesn't move around too much, she looks at the other.

“Gojou-sensei will be here soon. I asked him to pick up some sports drinks, plus onigiri with pickled plum for Inumaki. Hopefully, he won't take too long.”

“Nothing he couldn't handle.” she reassures, “When I called sensei, he was already done. Ah, he says he got the first-years snacks, but nothing for us.” 

“Cruel of him.” Panda chuckles.

Maki does the same, nodding, “Right!?”

The thermometer beeps, and Inumaki jumps, eyes wide. He coughs and sputters, and soon he's lifted to sit on the mattress, rather than to lie down on it, and a handー a paw－ runs up and down the whole lenght of his spine.

“40°C, fuck.” Maki bits at the same time, glancing at the offending numbers, “We need to cool him down.”

“There, there, breathe through it, Toge.” he says, handing the boy a glass of water that Maki had prepared beforehand.

He helps him drink, holding the glass for Inumaki. The cold liquid drips down his twitching chin, but he swallows a couple of sips and, surprisingly for him, he doesn't choke on it.

“Lukewarm bath. Or shower. Whatever he can handle.” 

Panda hums, “What do you suggest?” 

As they talk, Inumaki throws his head back, evidently against his friends' suggestions, and whimpers a plea, or what his friends have learntー through the yearsー to identify as such.

Before he can tell them to stop, Maki's not there anymore, and he hears her drawing a bath, testing the water to keep the temperature around 32°C, not too cold but cold enough to cool him down. 

Hopefully.

“B-bonito flakes, bonito flー” he coughs again, bringing a fit up to stifle the cough. The glass is once again pressed against his lips, but he pulls away and shakes his head, teeth chattering, stomach twisting. “N-no, no pl-please.”

And, this time, Panda is forcedー quite literallyー to set the glass down. The fog that takes over the Cursed Corpse as Inumaki activates his technique soon fades, and he sighs.

“Toge, you need to stay hydrated. Your fever is very high, your body needs the water. Please, man.”

“Bon-bonito fla-kes.” he coughs, and Panda cringes. Maki pokes her head inside the room.

“Bath's ready. Can you strip him down, please?”

“Sure, but I'm going to leave his underwear on.” Panda nods.

“Duh, I wasn't planning on ever seeing Inumaki butt-naked, thanks. I already have enough trauma to deal with as it is, no need to add more.” Maki laughs, trying to ease the tension. It helps a bit.

Panda lifts Inumaki again and takes him to the bathroom, sitting him down on the lid of the toilet and taking his clothes, minus the boxers, off. Maki grabs the sweaty items and tosses them inside the laundry basket whilst Inumaki is gently lowered inside the water.

As soon as he's under the surface, up to his shoulders, he jerks and thrashes, crying out and sobbing as he struggles. Panda holds Inumaki's head to prevent him from accidentally drowning, whispering half-choked apologies, and Maki gently wipes a damp towel over his forehead and the part of his neck and chest that isn't underwater.

“Bonito flakes, b-bonito flakes!!” he yelps, face twisting up in pain, “Rice, mustard leaf, mu-mustard leaf, soy sauce…”

He's wailing, trying to get rid of the hands that are forcing him to stay inside the bathtub. It hurts, it hurts, it's too cold, he thinks he's dying, he knows he is.

He wants to get out, he's freezing, he's really  freezing. Inumaki doesn't understand why they're doing this to him, he doesn't know what he did wrong, he doesn't know why his friends are punishing him like this.

He vaguely remembers using his technique on Panda, and it only sends him further down the spiral of panic that's clawing at his chest. 

Inumaki's scared, and he's hurting. He just wants to get out of there, he needs to. 

“Has he boiled over yet?” asks someone from the bathroom's doorstep, and he can't turn around, but he wants to, and maybe this person will help him.

Maki's tempted to snap at Gojou, but she doesn't. “Did you get the things I asked you, sensei?”

“Sure I did!” he chirps, waving the plastic bag, “I got cold patches too. Didn't know what brand to get, so I got a bunch of them.” 

Maki and Panda thank their teacher, bowing their heads too. It's been ten minutes since Inumaki's been in the water, so Maki opts to take the boy out of it and into some dry, light clothes. 

Panda helps him out of the tub, and Maki wraps a fluffy towel around his shoulders. Inumaki’s shaking like a leaf, whimpering miserably, and Maki wrapped the towel a little tighter, sighing worriedly. She places the back of her hand onto his forehead, and it feels a bit cooler than before, but they need to dry him off before they can take his temperature accurately again, so Maki asks Panda to hurry while she goes rummage through Inumaki’s drawers, retrieving a pair of clean boxers and a T-shirt.

“Here.” she says, passing the clothes to her friend, “Do you need help to change him?”

“No, I got this, don’t worry.” Panda smiles, though worry seeps clearly through his features.

Maki nods, “Okay, then I’ll pour him a glass of whatever Gojou-sensei bought, and I’ll ready a bowl with water and a towel, for later.” she says. Then, she closes the door behind herself to give the others some privacy.

Gojou is still there, and Maki’s surprised that her teacher’s caring enough to wait and see if his student is actually okay. As if on cue, he chuckles, shrugging, “What, shocked that I’m not as heartless as you kids make me out to be?” 

“We have our reasons, sensei.” she says honest.

“I suppose you do, I’m not going to blame you guys for that.” Gojou laughs. A moment later, Panda comes out, carrying Inumaki. He sits him onto the mattress, back against the bedframe. Gojou tosses Panda the cold patches as he watches from a distance, leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

Panda gently applies it to his friend’s forehead. Maki slides the thermometer under Inumaki’s armpit for the second time that day. It takes longer than the first time, but it’s a good thing, they know it is. As a matter of fact, the results are good, and Maki and Panda exhale in relief.

“39.4°C, more than half a degree lower than before.” Maki says, and Gojou nods satisfied and relieved, even if he wasn’t too worried to begin with, to be fair. 

Inumaki does seem a bit more cognizant, but he’s silent, blinking slowly at his hands that rest on his lap. He swallows, and it’s the signal that friends’ have been waiting for. 

“Here, slowly.” Panda says, helping him to drink from the glass. It’s not water, it’s sweeter and mildly bubbly, Inumaki notices, tempted to drink more. But his stomach’s upset from the heat, so he reluctantly pulls away after three medium sips. 

“Hungry?” Maki says, grinning gently, “Gojou-sensei got you pickled plum onigiri.” 

Inumaki nods, still shivering, and takes the food that Maki hands him with unsteady hands. 

Gojou flashes two thumbs up and leaves without another word. Maki and Panda still bow their heads to express their gratitude as he exits the room.

“Should I ask Shouko to give him some meds?” Gojou asks, yawning as if he were annoyed, “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“Maybe some mild fever reducers? If it doesn’t spike, he’ll be fine, but... better safe than sorry.” Maki says, rubbing soothing circles between Inumaki’s trembling shoulders, not too hard.

Inumaki’s three quarters through his onigiri when he chokes, coughing abruptly and hitting his chest with a weak fist. Maki and Panda both rub at his back, trying to coax whatever got stuck into going down the right tube.

Inumaki’s slightly less pale than beforeー but still paler than averageー and his cheeks aren’t as scorching, and his eyes aren’t as empty and dazed. Still, the fact that he’s been silent for a while is definitely a source of worry.

Maki and Panda exchange a confused look at the expanse of his shoulders, before the latter clears his throat and speaks. “Toge, man, are you alright?”

“Yeah, you haven’t said a word.” adds Maki after a moment.

Inumaki nods, “Salmon.”

But something’s not right, he doesn’t sound convincing at all and even he knows it. He grabs the phone that had been placed on the nightstand, and opens the memo app. 

I’m sorry.

“For what?” Maki and Panda ask in unison. 

I ruined training. And you were forced to take care of me and give me a bath as if I were a child. I’m sorry.

Maki sighs, exasperated, and Panda shakes his head, “Toge, you didn’t ruin anything! And we weren’t forced to take care of you, we wanted to!! You would’ve done the same. You’re good, don’t worry.”

It was embarrassing.

“For you? Maybe. For us? Not one bit.” Maki explains, “Get over your embarrassment already, because you’re the only one who thinks that the need for help is embarrassing. I swear.”

She’s maybe a bit harsh, but she knows she is right, and so does Panda. Inumaki’s face heats up, and it’s not the fever’s fault, but he doesn’t question it. He grabs the hem of his T-shirt and brings it up to cover his mouth and part of his nose, gaze shying away. 

Gojou’s there too now, and he hands Inumaki a little blister with pills, “Here, take one now, and one if the fever isn’t down in six hours.”

Inumaki nods and bows slightly, before he lets Panda lift the glass for him. He drinks a sip, puts the pill on his tongue, and tilts his head to will it down after taking another sip. He coughs a bit, but the pill’s probably long dissolved by now, so it’s not a problem.

Maki smiles tenderly, and pats his back, “Come on now, get some rest. I’ll be back later.”

“Yes, we’re taking turns!” Panda explains to Inumaki, who only blushes further. Maki and Gojou live after waving their hands briefly, and Inumaki goes horizontal.

He’s still cold, but not as much, and his head hurts a bit less. Still, he’s dizzy, and tired. Struggling earlier has left him drained, and Panda’s constant chatter helps him doze off before he can apologise again, or wonder why his underwear is backwards. 

He’ll take care of that after a nice nap.

(3/29/2021)

[bevioletskies]

spare me a little (of your love)

summary: Klavier always liked to express his love with flowers, so sending a beautiful bouquet to his boyfriend every now and then seemed like the obvious thing to do. However, there’s just one little problem - Apollo is very, very allergic to pollen.

word count: 5.3k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day two of seven (prompt: "flowers"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some distant point in time after Spirit of Justice where Apollo and Trucy have learned that they’re siblings, but doesn’t reference any specific plotlines otherwise. My source for flower meanings can be found here. Fic title is from the song Spare Me a Little of Your Love by Fleetwood Mac.

“The language of...flowers?”

“Oui, oui, mon ami!” Athena chirped, nodding eagerly. “That’s just one of the many languages I speak, y’know.”

Apollo eyed her skeptically over the top of his laptop screen. “...right. Elaborate, please.”

“Well, you know how people usually give roses to express their love?” Athena said, leaning across the gap between their desks. She didn’t even blink when she accidentally knocked over Apollo’s calendar and pen holder in one fell swoop. Apollo, on the other hand, shot her an affronted glance that she deftly ignored. “Well, each flower actually has its own specific meaning. It even varies from color to color! Par exemple, white roses symbolize innocence, while yellow roses symbolize friendship.”

“That seems unnecessarily complicated,” Apollo remarked. “Don’t most flowers come with a card? Why can’t people just write their messages instead?”

They turned at the sound of a disappointed groan coming from the middle of the room. “You’re so unromantic, Polly,” Trucy complained, peeking at them from over the back of the couch. “I almost feel bad for Mr. Gavin!”

“Hey,” Apollo protested. “I can be - I-I’m romantic!”

“If you say so,” Athena giggled, poking him in the shoulder. Huffing, Apollo prodded her back. Athena reached for a rubber band, fully intending to escalate things. She lowered her projectile dejectedly when Apollo raised his hands in surrender; he had no interest in losing an eye today.

“Sunflowers and tulips are supposed to symbolize happiness, right?” Phoenix asked. “Those are pretty much the only flowers I really know, so.”

There was a long, uncomfortably drawn-out silence. “...Daddy, your ex-girlfriend’s name was Dahlia. Her real name was - is - Iris.”

“Oh...right,” Phoenix chuckled, only mildly embarrassed. “Speaking of, do you know what dahlias and irises mean, Athena?”

Athena’s eyes were practically sparkling now. “Oui! Dahlias symbolize elegance and dignity.” Phoenix made a face. “...but, they also symbolize dishonesty and betrayal.”

“That’s more like it,” Phoenix muttered under his breath. “And irises?”

“Faith, wisdom, that kinda thing,” Athena shrugged. She then paused. “Y’know, if you want some ideas on the kinds of flowers Mr. Edgeworth would like, I can make some - ”

“Nope, nope, I-I’m good,” Phoenix interrupted swiftly, his face reddening. He had a vase of daffodils sitting on his desk, which Edgeworth had sent to the office a few days ago. None of them believed Phoenix when he claimed they were purely intended for decoration. “So why the sudden interest in flowers, Apollo? Is this, er...is this about Gavin?”

“If you’re not talking about your prosecutor, sir, I’m not talking about mine,” Apollo said firmly, turning back to his laptop.

“Sure, except I think your prosecutor’s fair game when he picks you up from work most days,” Phoenix teased. His tone was eerily similar to Trucy’s. If Phoenix wasn’t both his boss and his sort-of stepfather, Apollo would’ve picked up a rubber band himself.

A few hours later, Apollo was locking up the office for the evening when he heard the roar of a familiar-sounding motorcycle coming up the street. He turned, biting back a smile as Klavier pulled up beside the sidewalk and turned off his engine. “Your bike really is as obnoxious as you are.”

Klavier removed his helmet, pouting. “Achtung, is that any way to greet your boyfriend?”

“It is for me,” Apollo replied, kissing him briefly. “Hi.”

“Hallo,” Klavier murmured against Apollo’s lips, grinning as he pulled away. “Dinner?”

“Yes, please,” Apollo said, reaching for Klavier’s spare helmet. “I’m feeling...pizza and all the cheesy garlic breadsticks. Or maybe we can just get cheesy garlic breadsticks.”

“As nice as that sounds, you need more vegetables than the little bits you get in your cup noodles, baby,” Klavier said, patting Apollo’s hip affectionately. “Pizza, breadsticks, and a side salad, ja?”

“Fine, fine,” Apollo grumbled, settling in behind Klavier. “Turn me into a rabbit, why don’t you? Buy me a bag of carrot sticks the next time we go to the grocery store. Stuff my mattress with straw and newspaper - ”

“And people think I’m the dramatic one,” Klavier lamented, shaking his head in amusement.

It wasn’t long before the two of them were sitting on the floor of Klavier’s living room, pleasantly stuffed with pizza and breadsticks and a mediocre amount of Greek salad (“I’m not a fan of olives, you know.” “Not surprising, since the color doesn’t work with your complexion.” “Klavier, I swear to - ”). A random made-for-TV movie was playing in the background on mute, though neither of them were particularly interested in watching it.

“How was work?” Apollo asked, taking a much-needed gulp of cold water. He wasn’t sure if he was ever going to get the taste of garlic out of his mouth.

“Boring, unfortunately,” Klavier said with a grimace. “Herr Edgeworth didn’t have anything but paperwork to offer me. No trials, no investigations, nichts. You?”

“Same,” Apollo replied. “Mr. Wright’s mostly working with Athena this month, so they’re taking the big clients while I get stuck with the smaller cases. Not that I’m complaining, I mean - it’s a nice change from Khura’in. I don’t want every trial to feel like I’m going under, you know?”

“Nein, that would be terrible,” Klavier agreed. “Exciting, sure, but the stress wouldn’t be worth it. I already found a gray hair the other day, ach.”

Apollo snorted. “Just one? You should see mine - I’m gonna be completely gray by thirty-five at this rate.” He shuffled closer so he could snuggle up against Klavier’s side, letting his head drop to Klavier’s shoulder. “So...turns out, Athena knows all about the flower language thing. Figured she might.”

“Flower...language...thing?” Klavier echoed, confused. He then brightened. “Ah! From our video call with my mama the other day, ja? I didn’t know you were actually interested.”

“I wasn’t, not at first,” Apollo admitted, squeezing Klavier’s arm. “But...I want your parents to like me, and since she said she was taking an interest, I thought, y’know, why not look into it? And it sounds kinda...contrived, not gonna lie. But I guess it’s kinda sweet, too. Like a secret language between just two people.”

Klavier’s face softened. “Ja, exactly. My parents used to write love letters to each other when they were in school, so I think this is Mama’s way of starting a new tradition - buying Papa flowers so he can plant them in his garden. You should see our family estate in the summer, it’s absolutely stunning.”

“Sounds like it,” Apollo said, smiling. “Your parents’ lives sound so...peaceful. Baking, gardening, travelling...I know it’s a little early to start thinking about retirement, but still, they’re living the dream.”

“They’re not retired yet,” Klavier chuckled. “And stop making me feel like I’m dating an old man, bitte. You complaining about your back makes me feel like I have to start complaining about my back.”

Apollo hummed, tracing random patterns along Klavier’s forearm with his finger. He was pleasantly sleepy from a number of things - his long, if uneventful day of work, the amount of cheese and carbs he’d just consumed, and the warmth of Klavier’s skin against his. “Sorry we can’t all afford chiropractors and massage therapists, sheesh,” he teased, unable to hold back a yawn.

“Maybe we can get a massage together someday,” Klavier suggested, stretching luxuriously. “Ah, before I forget - since we were talking about my parents just now, they asked me the other day if it would be alright to text you and send you things, little gifts and whatnot.”

“Huh? They would do that?” Apollo exclaimed. “I only just met them, like, a week ago!”

“They’re a bit...much,” Klavier said carefully. “Even when I was in high school, every friend I brought home was a potential lover to them, you know? They wanted to know everything about them, to shower them with gifts and affection. Even when I started working, I would ask Papa if I could have some flowers from his garden - you know, an arrangement to thank Herr Edgeworth for giving me a raise, a bouquet for my manager when we got our first record deal - and it was always the same story. Achtung, it’s embarrassing, but they mean well. You don’t have to say ja if you don’t want to, I just thought I’d ask.”

“No, I - it’s okay, I’d love to get to know your parents more, I’m just surprised,” Apollo admitted. The thought of them liking him this easily made him both relieved and unnerved at the same time. “Should I, uh, get them something in return?”

“Nein, nein, let them spoil you.” Klavier cupped Apollo’s face in his hands, kissing him softly. “Just like I do.”

“Sap,” Apollo murmured, kissing him back.

_____

It was a sort of gradual thing, for the most part. Barely a day had gone by when Apollo found himself in a group text with Klavier’s parents; he quickly discovered how witty and sweet and whip-smart they both were. Klavier’s father sent gorgeous photos of his garden - and calling it a garden seemed almost too modest when it seemed to be the size of a soccer field - while Klavier’s mother sent book recommendations, even the occasional movie recommendation.

“I never thought I’d be at that point in my life where my boyfriend’s mother sends me three long paragraphs about how she ‘discovered’ the Legally Blonde musical, but here we are,” Apollo had mused to the other agency members.

“Did you tell her that Klavier reminds everyone of that song, the one that goes - ”

“No, Athena, I did not. I want her to like me, remember?”

Soon after that, gifts started to arrive. Apollo had requested they send them to the agency, given how little he trusted his apartment building’s security after they nearly let his cat escape not too long ago. Unfortunately, it was too late before he realized that sometimes, he trusted his co-workers - or more specifically, his sister - even less.

“Trucy, do you know who ate the last piece of pie? Y’know, the one I was saving for today, to celebrate the end of my trial?”

“...huh. No idea, sorry, Polly!”

“Wait - th-there’s graham crumbs on Mr. Hat, what the hell - ”

His sister’s betrayal aside, Apollo felt good about things, almost unusually good. He soon started texting Klavier’s parents just as frequently as he did his own mother, thanking them for their generosity whenever they sent the occasional box of pastries or discounted event tickets. They also exchanged anecdotes about Klavier, along with stories about their own lives. He even received celebratory emojis whenever he told them about his victories in court - over their son, no less.

“I’m starting to think they like you more than they like me,” Klavier had lamented, though he seemed pleased all the same.

Then, a month into their budding familial relationship, a problem arrived on Apollo’s desk in the form of a bouquet the size of his head.

“Ah-choo!”

Trucy and Athena, who had been standing by the latter’s desk, both startled at the sound. “Ay Dios mío!” Athena exclaimed, clutching her heart in shock. “Are you okay, Apollo? That was some sneeze. I thought we were having another earthquake!”

“Har, har,” Apollo said dryly, reaching for a tissue. “It’s just the - achoo - flowers, that’s all.”

“They’re beautiful - very classic,” Athena added, dropping into Apollo’s desk chair so she could get a closer look. “Red roses and white lilies, claro. Ooh, I see some red carnations and white chrysanthemums, too!”

“Well, I see a card,” Trucy said, plucking a small white notecard from between the leaves. “Let’s see what it says!”

“That’s for - achoo - me, thank you very much.” Apollo snatched the card out of her hands, then squinted through his watery eyes to read it. “I...oh. Klavier says his mom helped him make the arrangement, with flowers from his dad’s garden.”

“How sweet!” Trucy gushed, taking a moment to sniff them, inhaling deeply as her eyes drifted closed. “Ooh, and they smell amazing. Mr. Gavin is such a good - ”

“Ah-choo!” Apollo sniffled, wiping his nose carefully. “...dammit.”

“I didn’t know you were allergic to pollen, Apollo,” Phoenix commented; he was on the other side of the room, pouring himself a cup of tea. “You never had any problems with the flowers Edgeworth sent to m - I mean, to the office.”

“Maybe it’s a freshly-cut thing?” Athena guessed, ignoring Phoenix’s awkward laugh. “Or, y’know, some flowers are worse for allergies than others. Dahlias, for example, are the worst.” Phoenix made another face before turning back to what he was doing.

“You should tell him you’re allergic,” Trucy said, patting Apollo’s free hand in sympathy. “I’m sure he’d understand.”

“But…” Apollo hesitated. The others braced themselves, anticipating another sneeze. “...this is from Klavier and his parents, you know? I can put up with a sneeze or two if it makes them happy. He loves sending flowers, and his dad’s really into gardening, so...if I tell them, they’ll stop doing it, and they’ll be too understanding, and I - I can’t deal with that. The, uh, the niceness, I mean.”

“Poor you, having the sweetest in-laws in the world,” Athena teased, pouting exaggeratedly. Oh, the humanity, Widget added. Apollo would have glared at them both, had he not started sneezing again. “Como tú quieras, I guess.”

Hours later, when Klavier met Apollo at the agency, the sight of his face brightening when he saw the bouquet confirmed Apollo’s fears. “Ah, how wunderschön,” Klavier declared, beaming. “I was worried they wouldn’t hold up during delivery. Do you like them, liebe?”

“They’re beautiful,” Apollo said, as honest as he could be. “Thanks, Klavier. I, uh, I hope it didn’t take you too long to put together.”

“You know how picky I can be,” Klavier hummed, carefully drawing a carnation out of the vase between two practiced fingers and bringing it up to his nose to smell. “I don’t settle for anything less than perfekt.” He turned, smirking. “That’s why I’m dating you, after all.”

“Gross,” Apollo said, wrinkling his nose; the effect was ruined by his affectionate laughter. “Hey, is it okay if I press them after they’ve wilted? I was thinking I could keep ‘em in my journal as a nice little reminder.”

Klavier chuckled, reaching over to squeeze Apollo’s hand. “Of course, Forehead. They’re all yours, you don’t have to ask for my permission. And I’m sure Mama and Papa would be delighted to hear you’re planning to give Papa’s flowers a second life. We’ll have to send you more in the future, ja?”

“...ja,” Apollo said weakly, his heart sinking.

_____

The next bouquet arrived two weeks later, bigger and bolder than before. According to Athena, it consisted of pink and orange roses, pink lilies, and yellow alstroemeria. However, it seemed to be the handful of sunflowers that topped everything off that left Apollo’s nose running all day.

“I think the only sunflower I can stand to be around is my attorney’s badge,” Apollo had bemoaned.

After that came an arrangement of white daisies, red gerbera, and white limonium (or, as Trucy liked to call it - she liked practicing tongue twisters when she was bored - “linoleum”). Then green hydrangeas and Queen Anne’s lace, which admittedly wasn't so bad, followed by purple daisies and pink gerbera, which was very, very bad. Apollo did not like the fact that he was getting used to the taste of Benadryl. He did manage to get some reprieve when Klavier sent him a simple vase of pink peonies.

“They’re hypoallergenic,” Athena had informed him. “But...mein Gott, Apollo, just tell him already!”

“But if I do, i-it’s…” Apollo had gestured wildly, unable to find the right words. Athena and Trucy had exchanged glances, then shook their heads in eerily synchronized disappointment.

Pink carnations and pink alstroemeria, purple irises and white aster, yellow daisies and orange roses; Apollo was starting to think the Gavin family garden was endless. And while his journal had never looked prettier, every page decorated with carefully pressed petals, every other page detailed with a date and a description courtesy of Athena’s expertise, his nose had never looked worse, his skin pink and dry and irritated. He was getting too used to the smell of CeraVe as well.

Finally, a bouquet of red roses - thankfully, also hypoallergenic - arrived with Klavier himself. He seemed delighted to be at the agency while everyone else was present for once, chatting happily with Athena and marvelling at Trucy’s card tricks. He and Phoenix seemed awkward around each other, though Apollo supposed that was to be expected. Even now, they hesitated whenever Apollo brought the other one up.

“So what’re you doing here, Mr. Gavin?” Trucy asked after she’d successfully duped him three times in a row. Apollo had to stop her before she started charging him for it. “Is it date night?”

“Not exactly,” Klavier said, turning to Apollo. “I came here to ask you something in person, liebe.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s not suspicious at all. What’s up?”

“I think it’s about time you meet my parents in person.” Klavier took both of Apollo’s hands in his, smiling hopefully. “So, if you’re ready...are you free this weekend? We could go to my family estate, spend the day - Mama would love to teach you how to make those puff pastries you like, and Papa wants to show you around the garden so you can see where all your wunderschön flowers came from.”

“I...oh.” Apollo’s face fell for a split second before he quickly regained his composure. “Sorry, Klav, that sounds incredible, but I-I was gonna stay with Mom this weekend. Maybe another time?”

“Natürlich,” Klavier replied, still smiling. While his smiles usually made Apollo feel warm and fuzzy, now all he was feeling was gnawing guilt. “Let me know when you have a free weekend, ja?”

“For sure,” Apollo promised, pecking him briefly on the cheek. “And thanks for the roses, even though I, uh, kinda ruined the occasion.”

“Ruined?” Klavier repeated, chuckling. “Ach, it’s no big deal, you’re busy. We have time, don’t we?”

“Of course!” Apollo exclaimed, far too loudly. Klavier didn’t seem to mind, though; he leaned down to kiss Apollo properly, humming all the while.

“Anyway, I should get going before Herr Edgeworth notices I’m not in my office,” Klavier said, reluctantly pulling away. The look on Phoenix's face suggested he knew that Edgeworth had figured it out long ago. “Auf Wiedersehen, süßer!”

The second Klavier left, Apollo let out the breath he’d been holding. He didn’t even need to look up to know the others were staring at him very judgmentally. “...I don’t wanna hear it.”

“You really shouldn’t lie to your boyfriend, Apollo,” Phoenix said gently; his voice had taken on the sort of “dad” tone that made Apollo feel even guiltier. “Er, that is, you shouldn’t lie to anyone, but you know what I mean. Are you really protecting his feelings by doing this?”

Sighing, Apollo collapsed into his desk chair, dropping his forehead to his desk with an audible thunk. “I know, I know. It was stupid from the start, but...I-I honestly wasn’t expecting him to send this many! I thought it’d be, y’know, for special occasions only, like every few months or whatever. Then I could deal with it, and he would never have to know. Not, like, just ‘cos he felt like it. Though I guess I really should’ve seen it coming, knowing him.”

“You really gotta tell him,” Trucy insisted. “Next time you see him, okay? Or else you’re never gonna say anything!”

“I will, I swear,” Apollo insisted, combing his fingers through his hair. He could feel more grays coming in by the second. “I have no interest in being the worst boyfriend ever, believe me.”

_____

It didn’t take long for Apollo to realize that while he was perfectly fine - or, at least, reasonably fine - with confrontation in the courtroom, he was very much not fine with confrontation in his personal life. The flower arrangements came less frequently now, and when they did, they seemed to be exclusively hypoallergenic. Klavier’s invitations, on the other hand, seemed more persistent.

“I don’t mean to push,” Klavier would say. “It’s just that exam week is coming up and, being professors and all, they’re going to be very busy soon. I was hoping we’d be able to spend some time with them before then.”

“Yeah, o-of course,” Apollo would reply, his stomach twisting every time, knowing full well he was about to turn him down again.

Another weekend went by, then another. There always seemed to be something, whether it was Apollo’s sudden frequent visits to Thalassa’s, Trucy’s sudden need for a magic show assistant, or that Apollo was just too tired to be good company. Eventually, Klavier seemed to simply stop asking. In fact, he seemed to stop asking him about anything at all.

“Do you wanna grab lunch?” Apollo had once asked Klavier while they were both packing up after the end of a lengthy trial.

“I don’t know.” Klavier had sounded tired, subdued; he refused to look Apollo in the eyes. “I think I’m just going to head back to the office and catch up on my emails. Take care, Herr Forehead.” He’d quickly swept out of the courtroom before Apollo could even say goodbye.

Apollo’s group text with his parents seemed to slow down, too, especially when it came to Klavier’s papa’s photos of his garden. Klavier’s mama, on the other hand, sent him short, stilted messages, now seemingly out of obligation instead of affection. Their near-radio silence, Apollo had to admit, was well-deserved. He knew he had to do something before it was too late, if it wasn’t already too late.

“I was surprised you wanted me to join you today,” Klavier said one morning as the two of them were taking a leisurely stroll around People Park, hand-in-hand. “Lately, I feel like I’ve been dating a ghost, achtung. We only ever see each other in court. Maybe at crime scenes, too, if we’re lucky.”

“And I’m surprised you agreed to come,” Apollo admitted. “I missed you, Klavier. Only...I, uh, I know that’s really my fault, not yours.”

“You do, do you?” Klavier sounded bitter. His grip on Apollo’s hand was looser than usual, like he was ready to pull away at any second, like he wanted to run. The thought made Apollo’s chest ache. “And here, I thought you were as oblivious as ever.”

“Hey,” Apollo protested, frowning. Then, he sighed. “No, you - you’re right. This is on me. Will you - I - listen, I have something for you, back at the office. Can we go get it before you head to work?”

Klavier nodded shortly. While his eyes had softened, his smile was still strained. “Ja, let’s go.”

Thankfully, the agency was empty when they got there, save for a certain something sitting patiently on Apollo’s desk. He set his bag down, then turned on all the lights, his heart pounding rapidly against his ribcage. “So these aren’t as nice as your dad’s, but, uh. This is for you...and your parents.”

“What do you - ah!” Klavier approached Apollo’s desk with wide, disbelieving eyes, his gaze fixated on the beautiful arrangement of white lilies, yellow tulips, and white orchids wrapped in white decorative tissue paper. “Apollo, these are...they’re lovely! Did you pick these out yourself?”

“Athena helped,” Apollo said, hovering nervously. “She said white lilies are for humility, yellow tulips can mean forgiveness, and white orchids symbolize strength. Fitting, since I wanted to...apologize. For being a horrible boyfriend.”

“I don’t know about ‘horrible’,” Klavier said, gently running a finger down the length of one of the orchids. “...but you have been distant. If you’re not actually interested in meeting my parents, or if you...if you want to end things, just say so, will you?” His voice cracked. “I might like a bit of drama every now and then, but not in my own life. Not in my own relationship.”

“What?! No, no, I-I don’t wanna end things at all!” Apollo exclaimed, his voice filling the room. He took a few deep, even breaths to calm himself. “Just...will you hear me out? Please?” Klavier nodded, though he refused to look at him. “I’m...I’m sorry for avoiding you and your parents. And before you ask...yes. I was doing it on purpose. It’s nothing that - none of you did anything wrong, okay? It’s me, i-it’s - it - I - ah - ”

Klavier turned on his heel, worried. “Apollo? Are you - ”

“Ah-choo!”

Klavier jumped. “Ach - Apollo?”

“I forgot there were asters in there,” Apollo grumbled, reaching for a tissue. He wasn’t sure which was redder now, his nose or his cheeks. “It’s - I - achoo - ”

“Apollo,” Klavier said slowly; if Apollo didn’t know any better, he would've thought he was trying not to laugh. “Are you, by chance...allergic to pollen?”

Apollo sniffed sharply. “...yes, dammit, yes! That’s literally what I’ve been trying to say - achoo - just now, until - achoo - my sinuses decided to - achoo - speak for me!” He was half-doubled over at this point, clenching a fistful of tissues in both hands.

“Baby, have you been rejecting my invitation to meet my parents because you’re allergic to all the flowers we’ve been sending you for the last several weeks?” Klavier sounded more incredulous than angry.

“...yes. Yes, I have, yes, I’m an idiot and an asshole and - achoo - I’m so sorry, Klavier, I - achoo - ”

“Bitte, say it, don’t spray it.” Klavier held up Apollo’s tissue box for him, keeping it - and Apollo himself - at a good distance. “Mein Gott, Apollo, I thought you wanted to break up with me! Why didn’t you say anything earlier?!”

It took another minute or so before Apollo finally stopped sneezing long enough to get a full sentence out. He sniffled again, wiping his nose completely clean. “...have you ever told, like, the tiniest lie to make someone happy, only for it to turn into a big...thing? And then you know you have to come clean, that it’s what you’re s’posed to do, but the thought of doing it makes you anxious, even if not doing it also makes you anxious, and then...it just...it, uh, it stays with you.” He swallowed thickly, shaking his head. “Not that that’s an excuse, it’s just - that’s just what happened. I’m sorry, Klavier, I really am. I really do want to meet your parents, they’re so sweet and friendly a-and funny, I’m just...I’m bad at this. Really, really bad at this.”

Klavier sighed. Apollo held his breath, anticipating the worst. Then, Klavier wrapped him in his arms, letting out another sigh of relief. “I understand, liebe, and...I forgive you. Danke for explaining yourself.” He kissed the top of Apollo’s head. “Maybe we should’ve stuck to sending you pies, ja?”

Apollo laughed wetly. “I don’t know how you’re joking right now. That’s usually my job.” He lifted his head from Klavier’s chest to look up at him with a grateful smile. “I really did love the flowers, you know. When they weren’t attacking my respiratory system, that is.”

“Still, let’s not push it any further,” Klavier said wryly. “Now - two things, if you don’t mind. First, let me give you some moisturizer for your poor, poor nose. I’m not kissing you until I’m sure your skin won’t flake off in the process.”

“Ew, thanks for the gross visual,” Apollo grimaced. “And the second thing?”

Klavier smiled. “If you're alright with it, I’d like you to tell my parents what happened...in person.”

_____

The garden was just as beautiful as Apollo imagined it to be, given the dozens and dozens of photos he’d gotten from Klavier’s papa. It was full and lush and vibrant, with towering trees that provided ample shade, a beautiful gazebo with a built-in fireplace, a gorgeous two-tiered fish pond, and of course, a plethora of flowers, as far as they could see. Everything was especially beautiful, in Apollo’s opinion, from the relative safety of the conservatory.

“We’re not throwing you to the wolves, darling,” Klavier’s mama insisted, as if she were talking about actual wild animals and not her husband’s hobby. “We’ll stay in here for high tea so you can admire the garden at a safe distance, yes?”

“Yes, th-thank you,” Apollo stammered, relieved. “High tea?”

“Today’s menu is German chocolate scones and mini-sandwiches. With the crusts cut off for my fussy baby boy, of course,” she added, pinching Klavier’s cheek with a devious grin.

“Mama,” Klavier protested, embarrassed. His papa chuckled, settling into the chair across from his son; he still had a smudge of dirt on his nose. “I’m a grown man, achtung. I have my own health insurance and everything!”

“I really am sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Gavin,” Apollo said sincerely. Despite their kindness and generosity, he was still somewhat intimidated by them, by how tall and beautiful and well-spoken they were. As much as he didn’t want to think about his former boss, Apollo could see where he and Klavier got their good looks and charm from. “I wanted to make a good impression, but I, uh, I didn’t go about it the right way. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now, but...I kept it from happening for a dumb reason, and it led to me hurting your feelings and Klavier’s feelings. I’m sorry.”

“All is forgiven,” Klavier’s papa insisted, waving a hand. “Just promise you’ll stop by every now and then, alright? Our doors are open to you, Apollo. Consider us your parents, too, if you’d like.”

Apollo smiled softly. “I would, sir.”

“It’ll be a good, allergy-free time, I promise,” he continued with a teasing wink. “We’ll bake some bread, watch some home movies...are you interested in seeing - ach, what do the kids call it - Klavier’s ‘goth phase’?”

Apollo’s mouth dropped open. “...his what.”

“Papa, nein,” Klavier whined; he really did sound like a child now. “Maybe it was a mistake to bring you here, liebling.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Apollo said, his grin widening. “I would love to see Klavier’s goth phase. Did he dye his hair?”

“Oh, did he,” Klavier’s mama said slyly with the exasperated sigh of a parent who had dealt with too much. “It’s a miracle he managed to get back to blond at all.” She then got to her feet, smoothing out the front of her apron. “Anyway, Papa and I should go check on the scones now. You two sit tight, okay?” Before Apollo could blink, she’d dropped kisses on both his and Klavier’s foreheads, then disappeared down the hallway and into the kitchen, her husband in tow. He turned to look at Klavier, who was watching him nervously.

“I love them,” Apollo admitted. “They’re so sweet, Klav, they - stop looking at me like that, will you?”

“You can’t blame me for worrying,” Klavier said, kissing him briefly. “But I’m glad to hear it. Ich liebe dich, schatz.”

“Love you too, dork,” Apollo murmured against Klavier’s lips. “...so. Did you have a lip ring, or snake bites, or - ”

“Get out of my house,” Klavier huffed, pinching Apollo’s arm with an exaggerated pout.

“Hey! This isn’t your house, it’s your parents’ house, and they said their doors were open,” Apollo teased, laughing. Rolling his eyes, Klavier pulled Apollo into his arms, the two of them snuggled up on the loveseat. In the distance, they could see birds and butterflies fluttering among the flowers, a stray squirrel or two sniffing curiously at the edge of the fish pond. It was peaceful, serene. If it wasn't for the pollen, Apollo could see himself staying outside for hours at a time. “...but seriously, I’m looking forward to the video evidence.”

“I’m sure you are,” Klavier sighed, giving Apollo one last kiss before his parents returned with a large tray of sandwiches, scones, tea, and a vase with a single red rose for decoration - hypoallergenic, of course.

_____

a/n: Welcome to my second entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the fourth of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. Today, I have projected my allergies and anxiety onto Apollo, because that's what fanfiction is for, right? I hope y'all like my version of the Gavins; I've written them as cold and distant a couple of times, but I usually prefer to write them as warm and witty so that Klavier has a good support system in his life.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

[ailee-art]

hi! i love the snowy landscape process video you posted!! i was wondering if you could talk about about the brushes/textures (??) you used during painting the landscape? I've been trying to paint more but i find myself overapplying the blur tool too much instead of blending manually, but i found your process to use it really well.

Sure! I'm putting this under the cut though, because it got a bit long. 😂

So specific tools and software doesn't actually really matter, but for the record, what I used there is *checks video* Clip Studio Paint's gouache brush, the big textured brush I believe came from Ahmed's brush pack, (which was made for photoshop but can be imported into CSP) it's one of the oil brushes with the texture scale turned down, I believe. Then the lasso tool, an airbrush tool for some softness and color overlays and such, and CSP's "gauze cloud" as the textured brush for the snowy fog around the top of the mountains. I briefly used a blending tool on the sky, but tbh.. I don't really like blending tools. But my main goal there was to just soften that back into a gradient. Oh and a little bit of the finger smudge tool in the water. Which is actually way more tools than I'd normally use. Usually best to stick to only a few, tbh. You want your render to be at least somewhat consistent.. Not that it's a Rule. I mean use however many a piece demands, it doesn't really matter. The point is you don't want to over-complicate the process unnecessarily, or let playing with brushes distract from focusing on the piece itself. Anyway. To get to the point.

Beginners are commonly warned against using blur/blending tools and airbrushes, because overblending is a very tempting and common tendency when you start out. You can lose form and texture. And when everything is really soft, even the slightest hard edge stands out simply by contrast, which can encourage more overblending. So it's common to be kinda scared of hard edges lol.

But hard/firm edges are super important! They're important for composition, defining form, creating visual interest, etc. And even in areas of softness and rest you can create interest with texture and brushstrokes and color vibration and all that good stuff, which is why manual blending is usually preferred. But it is partly a matter of style. The best area for blur specifically would probably be if you wanted that out-of-focus effect. (but in such a case I think using smth like gaussian blur on an entire layer, rather than a blur tool, would be best... but I digress.)

If you find yourself overblending, my advice would be to confiscate your blur/blending/airbrush tools for a while lol. It's actually only just recently that I started using them at all. And even then I mainly use airbrushes, and rarely touch blending tools. But I feel more comfortable with it now, because I'm not using them to blend away my problems lol. I use them more deliberately now, rather than using them as a crutch to make something look smooth and pretty to compensate for my lack of fundamentals or something. Not that I'm totally free of that, though lol. My fundamentals are still not very strong, and I still think I overblend too much. General rule of thumb: If you're still learning the basics, it's best to stick to the basics. Tools are tools, there's no shame in any of them, but some you have to be a bit careful with. So when it comes to blending tools and airbrushing, I'd recommend trying to limit your use of them, especially at the start. Learning to blend manually is important, and it also gives you far more control.

Pay attention to your reference. The main places I'd use soft brushes and/or blending tools are things like soft gradients in the sky or water, or to establish some base color gradients over which you can do more textured detail work, or ambient occlusion. And try to stick to the principle of contrast. Soft edge, hard edge, soft edge, hard edge. Simplicity, complexity. That constant back and forth rhythm creates visual interest.

Okay idk if any of that answered your question, but I'll stop here. Feel free to let me know if I need to clarify something. And sorry if you were hoping for brevity 😂

I hope it helped, though?

I'm going to leave you with Marco Bucci's video on edges. I'd also highly recommend checking out his other videos, they are all very very well done. Seriously quality information. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nnhj5efzN_w

[hyena-frog]

To be honest, Virginia fooled Octavia, Aja, Moira, Atalantia, the entirety of the Bellona household and many others and mantained a foothold on Luna using her own spy network, long after she leaved. I did not like how the Cassius plot unfolded, personally, but the fact that she can juggle so many enemies will always leace me in awe, especially because Octavia was very good at reading people, considering the info we have on her now. Not only that, but Virginia was openly a Reformer - not only did she speak for other Colors' rights, but Reformers also believe in the Independence of the Rim and she had strong connections with the Moon Lords. Still, she was trusted by Octavia and her court.

After Golden Son and even during Morning Star, people thought she was too much like her father, now that she is 'in need of a win'. I think that these discussions are simply unfounded bullshit.

Also, it was never confirmed, but I do think that if Virginia failed to save her family on Luna, House Bellona would have received a pretty box the next day, after she had taken the ArchGovernor seat on Mars. So I truly believe we are in for one hell of a treat now that she obtained Imperium. Hail Sovereign!💖🦁

👏👏👏 Amen!

You explained how Virginia masterfully played Octavia’s court during her time on Luna in your own post way better than I could have, so I’ll add a few thoughts on your other points.

It drives me nuts how Virginia can juggle so many enemies and still be called “weak.” Strength isn’t just about swinging a razor around. It comes in other forms. Virginia has a level of self-control that is awe-inspiring. That’s a kind of strength hardly anyone else in this series has tbh. I mean, Virginia duped Octavia! Octavia “inventor of the Pandemonium Chair” au Lune! Is that not the most badass thing you can think of?

Pierce Brown has a knack for writing complex characters very economically. He gives enough information about a character that you’re able to fill in the gaps on your own. I understand why these characters think and act the way they do because the narrative gives me enough clues along the way that I’m never left floundering to understand their choices. At the same time, the writing never holds your hand; the audience is trusted to put those pieces together.

So it’s amazing to me— no, it’s actually kind of incomprehensible to me how so many people (in certain fan groups) can so badly misinterpret Virginia in particular. A certain level of ambiguity is good; it’s no fun discussing stories when you know everything with certainty. But there’s a level of misunderstanding surrounding her character that baffles me, because I find her fairly easy to understand, especially upon rereading the series. It’s even easier now that we have her POV but somehow that has made the misinterpretations worse.

You’re so right. In GS and MS, her “problem” was she was too much like her father— she’s a manipulator, she’s too cold, she obviously has some secret evil plan! But now in IG and DA, her “problem” is suddenly— “She’s too weak, her decisions never go right, she just needs to whip out her razor and kill people to solve these complicated political matters.” So which is it, precious? :)

It’s especially infuriating when I see people willfully ignore the mistakes made by favorites like Sevro and Victra in favor of heaping the blame entirely on Virginia’s shoulders. It’s a disservice to Sevro and Victra to ignore their mistakes. As if the entire narrative of DA didn’t show us how our mains suffered unnecessarily because they weren’t listening to each other. That’s the whole reason I found the ending kind of uplifting, because Victra and Virginia are finally back on the same page. As it is, heaping the blame on Virginia only is such a bad faith interpretation of the situation, it’s maddening.

I agree with your point about not liking Cassius and Virginia’s plot. I don’t mind it, as a whole, but I wish we had gotten more time to better understand the context of Virginia’s choices on Luna. She outright tells us her reasons later on, but I would have liked more build up, if that makes sense. I honestly wouldn’t mind if Pierce Brown went back and wrote the first trilogy again entirely from her POV. There is so much story, especially in GS and MS, we simply weren’t privy to because we were “stuck” in Darrow’s POV. Now that he’s had some practice writing her POV, I think it’s doable.

So there are problems in the writing, especially in the pacing of the earlier books. But I’ve always found the character writing to be wonderfully consistent. Hence my frustration with the idea that Virginia “needs a win” as if she hasn’t been carrying this series on her back.

I’ve said it before, but I love your “Dark Virginia” headcanons! Octavia’s whole plan to kill House Augustus at the gala was predicated upon the assumption that the version of Virginia presented to her was the truth. That Virginia would never rebel against her and would fall into the place, and marry Cassius to sooth her heart (ick) after the massacre of her family. But she didn’t know Virginia was secretly pulling strings of her own the whole time.

Virginia is always fearful she will turn into her father. I think without Darrow and her many friends at her side, she could have very well done so, under the right circumstances. Her family dying at the gala could have been a tipping point. Cassius’ head ending up in a box would have been entirely possible, in a different timeline. I love thinking about this kind of stuff!