#yes i had fun with the fire brush i have. it might be too much but it was fun!

[amatres]

For @owlcatober, a little out of sync but for Prompt 6. Family. What better way to illustrate that than by drawing out Layla's uh, very memorable act against the remaining members of her's. lol.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Ifrit and Phantom. You get me ? Ifrit and Phantom.

The first time Phantom met Ifrit, freshly summoned, he hadn't been ready at all.

The fire ghoul took up space, a lot of it, loud and bright in a way that made him seem twice as big as he was. His had was warm, his grip firm when he shook Phantom's. The quint made sure to avoid him after that. Too overwhelmed to subject himself to Ifrit's presence.

But it's been a while since he's been brought topside now, and Phantom starts regretting his avoidance, worried it sent the wrong signals. He doesn't dislike Ifrit, not at all, he's even growing curious about him. Berates himself for pushing away such a ghoul, when he was too afraid by his own emotions to admit to himself that Ifrit had snatched his attention.

Thankfully, it gets resolved in the most natural way. Phantom's in the gardens one late afternoon, doing cartwheel on a low wall fence circling a small pond. He's always loved acrobatics, and is fairly good at them ; this dance with relative danger, the possibility of slipping from his narrow landing point and ending up drenched only makes it more thrilling. He's interrupted by a soft clearing of throat.

"That's impressive."

Heat rushes in Phantom's cheeks as his head snaps toward Ifrit in a white tank top and baggy jeans sitting obscenely low on his hips, orange eyes trained on Phantom with gentle fascination.

"I- uh, not really. 's just cartwheels."

Ifrit shits his weight, adjusts his stance, hips jutting to one side which only draws more attention to his proeminent hip bones, the v line disapearing under his waistband, the trail of dark hair leading down there too. Satan below, Phantom needs to get it together.

"Perfect form though. And impecable balance as well - you didn't fall once."

So he's been watching for a while. Phantom's traitorous tail starts wagging at the praise.

"Oh, well, I...i practise a lot, I guess."

Lucifer, Ifrit looks gorgeous. The golden light makes a thin sheen of sweat shine on so, so much exposed skin - lower stomach, arms, neck, what can only be described as a cleavage with how big his fucking chest is. And that smile - a bit crooked, almost bashful. Phantom understands why almost every ghoul seems to be smitten with him.

"Heard about that. Sunshine took you to the roof yet ? She might be the one that knows it best, you'd have a lot of fun up there."

Phantom sits crossed-legged on the wall, pulling a face.

"Yeah, we tried but we got shooed by a very pissed Alpha. Said he needed to be alone - like the freaking roof belonged to him."

Ifrit winces, dropping next to Phantom uninvited, but not unwanted.

"Sorry about that. I swear he's not always that bad."

Phantom dares to turn fully toward him, to openly watch Ifrit as the fire ghoul watched him earlier.

"You were his mentee, right ? How was it ?"

Ifrit laughs, eyes growing a bit distant, though still bright.

"Pretty fun, actually. Al's a good teacher, blunt honesty and smidge of impatience aside."

"Smidge of impatience ?"

Oh, the way Ifrit throws his head back while laughing, it shouldn't be as endearing as it is. The fire ghoul's thigh brushes against Phantom's as he leans back, arms crossing in front of his chest.

"Yes, well. Tell you a secret - even he isn't immune to big wet puppy eyes. 'S how I got him to go easy on me."

It could be an accident, the way Phantom leans against Ifrit's shoulder as he reajusts his position, except it isn't and they both know it. As every fire ghouls do, Ifrit radiates warmth, which isn't unpleasant. Phantom's eyes trail toward details he didn't notice before ; freckles on his shoulders, a thick scar on the buzzed side of his skull, moles on his neck next to- oh. Phantom can't resist poking the bite mark Ifrit hasn't even bothered to hide.

"Let me guess. Swiss."

Ifrit throws him a surprised look, orange eyes sparkling.

"How did you know ?"

Phantom hums, leaning more toward the bite - and if that means he has to brace himself on Ifrit's thigh in the process, well, that's just a nice bonus.

"Too wide to be Dew, too big fang marks to be Rain. Could be one of the older ghouls, but that's Swiss' favorite spot to bite, so."

Ifrit's tail wraps around Phantom's waist then, keeping him here, leaned over him, one hand on his thigh, the other coming up to his wide shoulder for balance.

"Heard you were pretty bitey too. Apparently chewed on Mountain's tail for a whole movie night, that true ?"

"Hey, he said it was okay !"

Another of Ifrit's beautiful laugh, but this time it's lower, kept withing the - frankly impressive - confine of his chest, rumbling through both their bodies. Phantom yelps when the fire ghoul grabs him by his narrow hips and hauls him up on his lap. Oh. Strong. Not that Phantom didn't expect him to be, but. It's one thing to know it, another entirely different one to feel it first hand.

"You're cute," Ifrit hums, and he has the audacity to look at Phantom through dark lashes like the unfairly pretty fuck he is, "why haven't we hung out before ?"

Well, it's pretty much all on Phantom, to be honest. He ducks his head, smiling bashfully.

"You, uh. Intimidated me."

With a surprised noise, Ifrit tilts his own head, trying to catch Phantom's eyes.

"Me ? Why ?"

Oh, there's a small scar in his left eyebrow as well, Phantom notices. He doesn't realize he's reached out for it until he feels the texture of it under the pad of his thumb. Ifrit's only reaction is a flutter of eyelashes.

"I guess..." Phantom's fingers slide toward the bridge of the fire ghoul's nose, arboring an almost healed sunburn, "you're so...lively. I didn't know how to approach you."

"Well..." Ifrit leans in, chin resting against Phantom's sternum, "we're here now. I'm glad."

Sparkling smile, directed full force at Phantom. Yeah. He's glad too.

[sgt-tombstone]

https://www. tumblr. com/tiktoks-repost/664415151341076480

saw this and now i'm picturing soapghost in this situation

link, you’re so right anon

I’m thinking an au where Soap is part of a search and rescue team and Ghost, who was discharged for medical reasons but still lives close to base, gets bullied volunteered by his old captain, Price, to be a casualty victim for the CSAR (combat search and rescue) drills

Ghost would hate it, because it reminds him of actually being injured, but Price always makes sure that his fake injury is vastly different from the real one that got him discharged, and he actually has a lot of fun playing a victim. He knows how real injuries work, how real victims act in the heat of combat, and he really enjoys getting to play “bad” victims (ones who refuse treatment or are combative, because the PJs need to know how to deal with that too)

He’s never really treated it as anything more serious than helping to train soldiers to do their jobs better, but then he’s leaning up against the side of a house in the middle of a field in the base training grounds, and he sees a pair of brilliant blue eyes approaching, startling in their intensity and almost scary in their conviction, and Ghost thinks that maybe, for the first time, he might be in over his head.

The soldier scans the area, gun at the ready, because the first step in a search and rescue situation is securing the premise (and fuck, this guy is well-trained, Ghost thinks to himself, half-sullenly and half-grudgingly impressed, he knows what he’s doing), and then he drops to his knees by Ghost’s side. His gaze drops to the card in Ghost’s hand, marking Ghost as an amputee with a sucking chest wound (a far cry from the brush fire that had caused 3rd degree burns along his entire left side and more skin grafts than Ghost could count). Ghost tries not to be upset about the loss of eye contact, especially when the man opens his mouth.

“I’m Soap,” he says, thick accent distracting from the utter ridiculousness of his call sign. He’s deadly serious, both his tone and face conveying his devotion to rescuing Ghost. “I’m gonnae get ye out of here, I promise.”

Normally, Ghost would thrash around a bit, maybe have some fun letting out a little cry (who ever said he wasn’t a good actor? Price kept bringing him back for a reason, and he was directly responsible for many CSAR operatives developing eye twitches. But they were better soldiers for it, so who really won?) but he can only stare as Soap starts undoing his tac vest (the only time he still gets to wear it) and pulling on gloves to start simulating treatment for Ghost’s fake wound.

He keeps one hand braced on Ghost’s chest, apparently where he’s decided the sucking chest wound would be, applying pressure while preparing a dressing (god, who approved the funds for all of the equipment they wasted in practice? Ghost wasn’t about to start complaining) and pressing a chest seal against Ghost’s bare skin. He tells Ghost to exhale, then secures the dressing. It’s a textbook treatment, as far as Ghost can tell (and he’s done this a lot) but there’s something about Soap’s sure hands, his unwavering haze, his steady presence, that makes it feel like something more.

When Soap moves down to pull up his pant leg, obviously intent on treating his fake leg amputation, Ghost stops breathing altogether, and if he ends the day by receiving very real CPR from a very concerned Soap (as well as Soap’s personal phone number), well… what Price won’t know won’t hurt him, right??

(he’ll be Ghost’s best man at the wedding two years later, and his speech will have many, many innuendos about a certain sucking chest wound, much to Simon’s mortification)

[jwanniie]

FRAT PARTY!

Someone requested G!p Kazuha but I can’t find the ask😭 here it is tho!

Warnings: might be cringe, not proofread, unprotected sex and just smut.

The smell of ciggaretes filling your nostrils and the crowded place blasting music is damaging your eardrums already, you came to your best friends Yunjins frat party. You are not much of a party person, but you still decided to come since Yunjin practically begged you. You and Yunjin met in middle school, both are like the sun and moon, opposite attractions. You a bit introverted student, pretty but not popular, good in studies and the perfect image of a schoolgirl, while Yunjin the popular girl with the hottest friends and a wealthy family. So, it wasn’t very unfamiliar for her to throw frat parties every weekend but it’s just that you never came to her frat parties.

When Yunjin saw you, her face was like seeing a ghost, eyes widening and jaw dropping. She immediately excused herself and came running towards you “you are the last person who I thought would come to this party…after my ex of course” she uttered rolling her eyes playfully laughing afterwards, you just laughed at her statement. “weeelll…I just thought why not have some fun you know” you said, laughing awkwardly while scratching your neck. “Exactly, but let’s talk about how fire you are looking right now” she said while looking at you from head to toes, a light pink shade taking place in your cheeks. “Let me introduce you to my friends, come one” she grabbed your hand and led you to the table her friends were sitting in. “ I have someone to introduce you guys, this is Y/N my best friend and Y/N this is Sakura, Kazuha and Chaewon” you smiled at her friends and they returned it, all of her friends were good looking but one specifically had your attention…Kazuha, throughout the conversation you kept stealing glances her way and she seemed to notice, a smirk taking place on her lips. “uhm it was a very very nice conversation, and pleasure to meet all of you but I am going to the restroom” you awkwardly excused yourself, honestly you just couldn’t keep looking at someone this fine and being close with someone this fine aka kazuha.

You decided to wash your face with cold water, while splashing water on your face eyes closed you felt something pressing against you. You immediately looked back seeing Kazuha pressing her bulge against your ass, you couldn’t help but gasp. “See baby this is how hard I am for you” she said while brushing hair strands out of your face, lips dangerously close to your soft cushion like ones. “hmm why so silent baby, have you never felt a dick against you?” she said while giggling darkly voice full of lust and desire. “n-no” you barely said voice whispery. “aww how cutee? well do you want to experience how good I can make you feel” she uttered voice an octave even lower, you just didn’t know what to say, you really wanted to agree and so you did.

She grabbed your hand leading you to one of the rooms Yunjins house has. As soon as you both arrived there, she locked the door and pushed you on the bed immediately hovering over you and taking you in a kiss, soft yet enthusiastic. you swore you could have melted right onto your place. She is unbuttoning her shirt and pants sliding them off, then she lead her hand onto your back unzipping your wine red dress. Once you were completely naked she started kissing all over your body, “Fuck baby, you look too beautiful” she mumbles between kisses. you cant help but feel ticklish giggling slightly. She just smiles and adores you. She frees her cock from her boxers, and slides her tip against your folds and clit you cant help but let out a breathy moan once she hears you she asks “Are you ready princess?” you nod humming a little yes. In one swift motion she slides herself all the way in earning a loud pornographic moan from you. The stretch was deliciously painful, her little groans making your head heavy and eyes roll back, your tightness swallowing all of her making her eyes roll back. Her once steady pace turns into a fast and rough one making sure to make you take all of her. The delicious stretch making you so close, she starts rubbing your clit while playing with one of your breasts with her free hand, twitching and squeezing the nipple, That’s it one twitch and squeeze from her made you feel your climax. you started squirming under her, your hole clenching and unclenching uncontrollably. The way you were now tighter while clenching on her length made her twitch then filled you with her seed. Luckily the loud music blasting covered all of your sinful noises!

[convexicalcrow]

Cub admired the skulk spreading across the land surrounding his base. It sung softly, contentedly, eager to be given so much food. There was also a note of mourning, given it was outside and in the sunshine, and away from the protection of the Warden, its one and only defense mechanism. Ahh well. Can't be helped. Not that Cub wanted Wardens spawning all over his base though. He could easily live without that. The mobs and phantoms were more than enough for him to deal with, thank you very much.

He did find it strange no one had really confronted him about it though, given his history. Surely at least some Hermits might be a little concerned to see him spreading skulk everywhere, but no! Not even Scar seemed to care anymore. He was glad to help it spread! It led to Cub feeling a little on edge, half expecting someone to call him out on it, but no one ever did. He often wondered why.

Not that he had much time to spare worrying about these things. He was way too busy with the fireworks factory. There was so much to do, so many fireworks to produce. So much skulk to harvest and bring to the surface. So many goat horns to send out to people through the mail. What other Hermits thought about the skulk wasn't his problem. If Scar didn't care, then he was happy enough.

He did wonder a little about how far this might go. This seemed… more intense than his previous encounters with the skulk. This wasn't just hiding catalysts all over the place and hoping for the best. This was literally ripping up the grass and putting skulk there instead. Tearing apart the natural landscape to corrupt it instead. He kept on going, though. Every time he went to harvest it from the ancient city, he felt the skulk's eagerness as much as their sadness. There was no life down here. But up there, above, on the surface? Where mobs still came and died and could feed them so well? Yes, that's where the skulk needed to be. Right there, where the food was.

Cub often found himself dazzled by the light from the blocks at night. The sparking stars were so hypnotic. He would gaze across the landscape and see nothing but skulk and it mesmerised him. It was that moment when he felt the skulk's mind touching his own. A whispered, 'thank you', a small tendril brushing his leg softly. Things that left him staring oddly into the distance, as if in a stupor he needed to be woken from.

He gazed at the soul flames dancing in the night air as they lined sections of the new pathways. He loved the colour of them, loved how brightly they shone even though they emitted less light than regular torches. If he was feeling brave, he swiped his fingers through them, a silly magic trick that was meant to prove his fearlessness over fire.

Scar laughed it off. Scar always did. He didn't care about the skulk spreading. Didn't care that Cub sometimes seemed a little distant. Didn't care about the stains on his fingers because the man was positively covered in dyes to begin with. If there was real skulk there, Scar wouldn't have seen it.

It wasn't difficult to goad Scar into a death loop, either. The number of times they simply messed around with loaded crossbows filled with fireworks, shooting at each other making both a huge mess as well as dying repeatedly, the skulk loved it. Cub could always tell. There was this soft singing he heard that he could never quite identify. Something soft, but otherworldly. Something joyful. The skulk liked it when they died, so of course they kept doing it.

Death after death after death, fireworks shimmering and breaking all over the place, respawns kicking their butts as they kept coming back only to die all over again. It was a lot, but it was working. And it was fun! The skulk spread happily, almost independent from Cub's efforts now. In his head, Cub had an idea of how far the skulk should spread, but that was out of his hands now, and he was sort of quietly aware of that. It wasn't up to him now, it was all down to the skulk and what they wanted.

And if they wanted a home of their own, if they wanted to take over a dark cave somewhere, well. Cub wasn't about to stop them. That would be counter productive. The skulk must spread, after all.

[faegoddessog]

17: Shut up and kiss me

Ok loves, I've decided to try something to stretch myself creatively with this challenge. I'm gonna dribble my drabble and see if I can tie each theme into an actual story that I'll write day by day! We'll see how it goes! Wish me luck!

Here is my ongoing masterlist of this project.

My other works are here if you are interested!

Check out the fun challenge here by @slowsweetlove . Feel free to jump in too!

Warnings: Explicitly Mature content. 18+only, fellatio, deep throating, fingering (f), PiV, light M.Dom/f. sub

17: Shut up and kiss me

“Well you’d know a thing or two about sexy fucking packages,” you say pointendly. 

“Are you implying that I am an aficionado of said packages?” he leans back pondering,  “or that I am one or maybe I just have-” 

“Shut up and kiss me Austin,” you can’t help smiling, leaning forward.

“Yes Ma’am” he murmurs against your lips. 

It is probably the best kiss he’s given you so far. Relaxed yet insistent, soft but gradually gets intense. It’s like he’s been taking inventory of your physicality and knows just how to turn you on. A student of human behavior, is Austin. 

By the end of it, he has pulled you tight against his body, his hands warm on your back. Your legs spread over his lap, even you can smell how turned on you are. You rock your hips and nudge into his bare cock as it peeks through the edges of his robe. You've not tired of him either. Oh, that fucking cock.

You reach between you, brushing his tip with your fingers. 

“Damn, Mr. Butler, that’s quite a sexy package,” you try not to giggle at your own cleverness.

But he just brushes the comment aside, ”No, it’s you. I’ve never…wanted this much, been able to get hard this much. I’ve had you, what like  4 times in the past 12 hours, yet I still can’t get enough of you. You’ve lit a fire I wasn’t prepared for.”

His words drown your giggles, stoking said fire.

 You reach into the pocket of his robe, searching for a condom. You figured he might just be that kind of guy. 

“I think you are plenty prepared and as for wanting, I want you right now, Mr. Butler” you pull out a little black and gold package.  

“Ah ah- wait a second sweetheart,” his tone changes subtly, carrying a gentle authority. He takes the condom from your hand. “Mr. Butler needs that warm mouth on his cock before he takes care of you.” His use of third person and his authoritative tone are both  sexy as fuck. 

“Yes, Mr. Butler, anything you need,” did you consciously choose to play into this power dynamic? Not exactly. Do you mind even a little? No. You slide off his lap and to your knees. Reacting like a trained puppy.

“That’s a good girl,” he pulls your hair behind your ear, watching to see how you react to his praise. He smiles down pleased.

Your breath leaves you, unprepared for the dopamine drop that floods your brain at his words, at his devilish smile. He pulls the sides of his robe off his lap, exposing his hard member. He thumbs it towards your mouth. 

You lick your lips, opening your mouth. 

“No darling, lick it first, I want to see you work your tongue on me,” his deep voice is resonant with desire.

Out comes your tongue and you lap up his sides. He moans out a little exhale, unable and unwilling to look away as you rub the flat of your tongue on his frenulum then swirl up, leaving a little kiss on his tip. 

“That’s good sweetheart, now take me in your pretty mouth,” he says, still angling himself toward you.  You open your shiny lips and lower down over his tip. You close warm over him, tongue working along his underside. You work your mouth up and down him. He feels so fucking good in your mouth it makes you moan.

“Oh yes,” he gently threads his fingers into your hair, “now darling, Mr. Butler needs you to relax that throat so you can take it deep, understand?” 

You look up at him, your mouth still on his cock. You want to be a good girl for him.

“Come on now, we’ll go slow, baby,”  voice projects calm confidence, “you can do it.” 

He flexes his ass, pressing his hips up and his cock further into your mouth. When he hits your soft palate, your throat initially spasms. He pulls back, letting you adjust. 

“Relax, sweetheart,” his voice is so gentle, “let’s go again.” He pushes in, this time you are ready for what it feels like and you trust that he’ll stop if you need it. You relax your throat, breathing through your nose, until his cock cuts off your air. 

“YES!” he moans, “that-a girl.”  

You pull off, gagging. 

Encouraged by his praise, you dive back down. His hand tightens in your hair. 

“You like that don’t you?” he asks, “my cock in your mouth.”

You can only answer in a whiny ‘mmm hmm’ as you slide further, fucking the back of your throat with his tip. 

“Fuck baby,” he grips your hair hard, “Good fucking girl, taking that cock so well.”

He could have easily taken control, forced your head back and forth. But he didn’t. He let you go at your own pace, while holding tight. 

It was so hot the way his cock devoured your sounds.

You pull back, a long line of spit drips from your tongue to his tip. 

“Kiss me with that dirty mouth,” Austin growls, pulling you up towards his head. 

Your lips crash together. His tongue slides into your mouth in an unforgiving fashion. At the same time his fingers slip into your slit, rubbing back and forth, his tips pressing inside. Then his thumb is on your clit.

Your only response is to suck his tongue into your mouth.

His hand is a blur, fucking you hard. Wet sucking sounds fill the room, heat builds up in your pelvis. His tongue thrusts into your mouth. Your hips buck wildly. 

 His other arm holds you tight so you can’t squirm away. You convulse, you shake, you flood over his fingers. He grunts in the effort of keeping you close.

“Good Girl, cumming on Mr. Butler’s fingers like that,” his voice is low and penetratingly sexy. “You'd better be ready to do it again, cuz my cock needs the same treatment.”

He pushes you to sit up with his wet hand. You are given only a rolled-on-condom’s time as reprieve. 

“Hold on darling,” he grabs your ass and stands you both up. He turns and lays you down on the couch. He guides his cock to your open and waiting pussy. He thrusts in, seating himself with a grunt. 

“Look at you, taking *thrust* my cock *thrust* so well,*thrust*, so fucking deep,” his hands curled aorund your head as his abs grew taut, holding his weight up like the gentleman he is.

Thrust after thrust he holds your eyes with his own deep pools. 

“Good Girl,” he praises you. 

“Mr. Butler, please,” you beg, though you didn’t know what you are begging for.

“You’d better cream that cock like you did my fingers,” he shifts his weight and puts two pussy-tasting digits in your mouth. 

“Clean those off for me sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear. 

You wrap your tongue around them sucking. Then pushing them apart as you fuck your tongue between them. 

He slams again and again, angling his hips, taking his fingers out of your mouth. Each time he withdraws he rubs back against your G-spot. 

Four, five, six; by his tenth stroke you are squeezing down on him, your orgasm jerking through you. 

“What a good fucking girl you are,” he moans, leaning down low.

“GOOD, GIR-GIR GIRL!!” he spasms inside you.

…

You were nearly late to meet up with Callum.

credit to @saradika for the graphic!

Always tag me: @purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight

"I've been tagged by you before Lumiere!": @thisworldisntrealhoney,  @1nho,  @megangovier, @briaandthephantoms, @andro-inherdreamworld @callumsgirl @blombardo  @fefeisastar @hacunamy @nestito702 @denised916 @jayydep @r0m4nitcl0v3r @heyidc03, @secondchild-2, @flander42 @natural-born-rebel-spirit @lecosymood @kathrynzaragoza @bsunshinexo @jayydep @ifyouloveweedletsgosmoke

[wannawritefast]

Poise

A/N: Here she is. Seriously Aro is wicked fun to write and as I told Vas (@vasiktomis) reader/MC kinda ripped the reins from my hands. Is she (as in reader/MC) a lil coo coo bananas? Yes. Did she stretch my abilities as a writer? Yes. Were there times that I agonized over a singular word choice for an embarrassing amount of time? Oh yes. A lot of firsts in this fic for me as a writer. Very proud of myself. Thanks for reading. Also I'm so unserious about Aro. No funky aesthetic gif for this one. He's simply too silly. I also post all my stuff on both Tumblr and AO3. Same handle!

Pairing: Aro Volturi x F!Reader

Words: 6.6k

Warnings: gore (consider yourself warned), implied intimate partner abuse in flashbacks, death (no major characters), arachnophobia, reader has powers having to do with nightmares and is crazy, so is Aro, it’s the Volturi you kinda know what you’re getting into

Summary: After taking matters into your own hands, you swear never to be weak a day in the rest of your eternity. The Volturi can help with that.

“What I am left wondering is why you have suddenly found yourself in want of membership to the Volturi. You denied us quite emphatically those many years ago.”

“I was under a year into my immortality, Caius. You must forgive the blunders of my youth.”

Indeed, that many years ago you had declined their invitation. But that was when you still had your youthful fire about you. In so many years you had traded it in for temperance.

Still Caius narrowed his eyes from the platform. Only two of those splendiferous thrones were occupied at the moment -- a naked helm. Heidi had assured you that Aro was well on his way. That had been 3 minutes ago when Caius had decided to put you on trial for no other reason than him not being present.

Marcus watched on with those ancient eyes. They must have always looked old, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t imagine Marcus’ eyes looking any younger than time itself. And Caius’ eyes -- well… Very well. You’d let him enjoy this silly little power trip. There was something of a cruel smile lifting the edge of his lip.

“I have the time to hold a grudge.”

“Have you nothing better to do with eternity than harbor petty anger? My, my, you truly do not play well with others.” Your eyes drifted to Marcus. “Have you nothing to say, old friend?”

“We are hardly old friends.”

You rolled your eyes, settling your attention back to Caius. “If you’ll excuse me, I shall speak no more until Aro arrives.”

“Why? Are you frightened?” He taunted. Bait, that’s all it was…

“Are you?”

The doors behind you swung open heavily, like a final breath. Four sets of heeled shoes struck the marble. You did not turn even as Jane and Alec walked close on either side of you, like eels as they glided up the platform standing in the background.

Heidi didn’t even so much as brush past you to go out a side door. It was an unusual occurrence to demand entrance into the Volturi especially when a previous invitation had been so rudely turned down. You were certain a number of the vampires along the walls with you were there simply to see what demise would befall you for such insolence.

The fourth set of boots slowly walked up to the direct back of you. There was no body heat to speak for Aro but you knew it was him. The eyes of all the people in the room suddenly on you could not mean anything else. 

“Did you receive a warm welcome?” His voice hit the back of your head and it was no louder than a lover whispering their intentions.

You straightened, your eyes piercing Caius where he stood. “Something like that.”

Aro finished the pace around you. “You are very brave to have come here.” His eyes scanned the walls. He was looking to see if it was true that you had come alone.

“I was hoping it might be rewarded.”

“Hope…” He tasted the word. “Now that’s a word I have not heard in a good while.”

Half of a smile spread across your face. “You’re welcome.”

“Hm.” Aro looked you up and down, amused, before continuing his path to his throne. The three men on the platform finally sat. “And I… well, perhaps I should not assume a thing. Why don’t you tell me why you are here?”

The blonde vampire stole the silence from you. You couldn’t help but think that the angelic color was wasted on him. He would be blonde. “Foolish girl, she’s changed her mind!”

“Caius, I did ask her to tell, did I not?” Aro only dignified the man with a slight turn of his head. He set his jaw and sunk back into his throne a little. Aro’s hand gestured for you to continue.

“It is true,” you responded. As much as it pained you to soothe Caius’ temper via agreeability you were not above it especially now. “I would like to petition for entry to the Volturi.”

The laugh of all the vampires in the room made it all the more funny, you supposed. Even Marcus’ perpetually morose eyes tilted up as he chuckled.

Aro only smiled. “Now my dear…”

“I am aware of my past petulence-”

“Ooh, that was not petulence,” he corrected you, leaning forward. “Petulence is far too generous. You were rude.”

You gulped. It was true. You had been rude those 200 years ago. Very rude. 

Aro continued. “I believe you said… what were the words you used…?”

Marcus cleared his throat. “Allow me. ‘The Volturi are a semblance of order. Their actions are a colossal mimicry of law and the leaders are just as big of fools for as long as they stand if they believe that their offers of entry are anything more than an identification of spinelessness in the subject if they accept such a thing.’” Curse him for his memory. “Something like that.”

His really good memory.

The helmsman of the Volturi raised his brows at that. “Your recollection is pristine, Marcus. My goodness, such scathing words… I had forgotten.”

“‘Go to hell, you greedy fucks’ too,” Caius added, that hint of a cruel smile earlier was now a complete grin. “Can’t forget that either.”

“That last one was not me actually.” A glower from the blonde vampire. “My sire, rest his soul-” I hope he is eternally suffering, “-should be properly credited for that.”

There was a chuckle from all three on the platform, even Jane smiled a little. Although it was better than how you had begun it still was not a good sign.

“Yes, rest his soul.” Aro tilted his chin up. “Whatever did happen to him?”

A test. Aro knew what had happened. Everyone in the room knew what had happened. Or they knew a version. “My coven at the time… handled him and went our separate ways.”

It was not a lie. 

“Yes, I suppose you did handle it.” Aro remarked. “It was startling to hear about, just like that, ripped limb from limb by your coven.” He didn’t trust you. Why would he?

You swept up the steps before him and wordlessly knelt, reaching a hand up. A young woman reaching her hand up to a young man, both centuries old. Jane and Alec stepped forward in warning, flanking Aro’s throne. Your eyes flitted between them. An impasse. Still you kept your hand outstretched to Aro who had taken a small step forward in your approach. Your eyes landed back on him. Please.

Aro regarded you coolly; it was colored by something else though. Intrigue. Curiosity. Hunger. The last time Aro had read you had been 200 years ago; you had so much less control then. You remembered him snatching his hands away from yours as your nightmares, or rather his, had sloppily tumbled toward him while he flitted through your memory. Two horrible truths slamming into one another -- a mutual bruise, the two of you. Your talents were similar, all thing considered.

“You can look,” you whispered up at him. “I am better at this now.”

Something of a warm smile dawned on him, if indeed Aro could ever be described as warm, as he crouched down. His red, milky eyes bore into yours and then, gently, one of his hands tucked under your palm and the other covered your knuckles. You bridled the lightning fast nightmares as the man pushed forward.

Just like the first time it had happened, it felt like nothing more than the pad of a thumb releasing held pages as they rushed for the cover of a book. Aro flicked through two centuries of life in ten seconds, his eyes darting between yours as he passively consumed.

The story had to begin with the truth that covens did not turn on each other. In technicality it was not that it had turned on itself -- just all against the self-declared leader who held all of you in a vice-like grip. You refused to even give him his name in your memory, yet another way to kill him back in a way that truly mattered. 

His inclinations of you showing abilities upon your turning were unfortunately well-guessed. You cursed your sire for the rest of your days for his early but ultimately rare stroke of clairvoyance. With time you would learn that he was no stranger to fear as a weapon either. 

Aro pushed forward, unreadably neutral. The memory of the first time you ever used your abilities somersaulted through your consciousness. You had gone well beyond the bounds of the perimeter that had been set for you by your captor. It was direct disobedience to your sire’s orders and the vampire passing through never saw it coming. The spooking they had done you was a complete accident. Their intentions to take the human body you were feeding on, however, were undeniably loaded with malice.

You had only intended to shoot them a glare but something about the tense moment, about them approaching you with a hand reaching out to what was in yours… that’s what started it. You heard it first, an impossibly low thunder like something far beneath the earth pushing its way up; they heard it too. Your crouch was something feral when you did it and the nightmares that crashed into that poor vampire tumbled into your mind too. To that though you were a spectator, privy to the innermost workings of what horrified that particular individual.

Tense shoulders, a talon-like grip taking control of your hands, a furrowed brow. Your eyes snapped shut; while the nightmares were never your personal bane they hardly offered any comfort. You saw it all. It would be the first of many in the coming eternity. 

Their shrinking hands slashing and clawing through phantom blood, unable to cup it, unable to consume any of it in a vicious bout of craving. Frantically pressing themselves into the ground as the endless blood on the ground began draining into the soil. They were withering by the second. It didn’t matter to the vampire that it was utterly ridiculous.

The vampire before you, the real version, collapsed to the ground; you heard it, like a snare cutting through reverberating bass. You didn’t open your eyes until their breath came out in pants, as if they were suffocating on too much air. And it stopped. Just like that. An end to the focus ending their nightmare. 

Aro cocked his head, continuing to read you. In hindsight, you wished you had cut and run right then. You would have had a head start. Your sire wouldn’t have caught you in the few moments he had made the mistake of leaving you alone. From that moment on, he forced you to be at his side. You remembered the berating you had gotten for your disobedience that followed after his wide-eyed realization that you could do what you had done to the weeping vampire.

With that, you became the prize of the coven; it was your abilities that afforded your sire his longevity. He made you play with his food sometimes; asking what you saw as you screwed your eyes shut. You told yourself it was from the effort. In truth it was not any harder than flicking down a wooden block had been in your mortal youth. 

No, you strained with the wretched knowledge that the only thing you really had a knack for was holding out a mirror. The beastly things you saw -- what frightened the most deplorable of individuals. It was sick; in every horrid vision you churned out, you saw the inner workings of the mind, of the filthy things that these monsters had done in their conscious lives. The worst thing about your abilities was that the most frequent nightmare you bore witness to was them getting what they had deserved. Revenge. Balance. Order. Justice.

It was true. Yours and Aro’s gifts weren’t really that different. You saw a lot, possibly too much of whoever had the poor luck of encountering your proficiencies.

And, oh, how your sire had loved your gift. It was precious, he said. You recalled a time he had even called it artistry. It was after you used it, after you saw the depravity of human and vampire kind that he cradled your head between his heavy hands. You learned to savor the moments where he wasn’t throwing them around. And during those times when you deeply pleased him by what you were able to do, you saw him bloat with the intoxication of power. It would be many years until you really used your gift but it took little guesswork to know then what he feared: the loss of control -- the loss of you. Motivated by pride he kept turning others, stopping at the fifth of your covenmates when he realized that he had really only lucked out on his first try -- also, you.

That was when you had been initially approached. Your sire had never once received so much as a greeting from the Volturi; he never let you forget how bitter it made him. Unfortunately, his hold on you also included passing down his opinion. By the time the Volturi got to you, you had been spoiled against them. Only time would truly tell whether you would be forgiven for it.

At this moment, though his red eyes were set on you, Aro wasn’t really looking though -- not the present-you anyways. It was subtle, the way his brows and lips fluttered up and down as if fighting his own desire to respond. His expression sobered briefly.

You had spent centuries with the man, your sire… he was brutal. Even you were not immune to his rage. Each of your covenmates were strong in their own rights but none of you were singularly stronger than him. The Volturi’s arrival and immediate departure was one of the worst days of your life. You remembered holding one of your sisters, the sixth, the youngest, after it all. She begged you to stay and endure with her. And for two hundred years the two of you, all of you kept that promise to each other.

It had been one too many cruel moments when the dam broke. It was the moment that all of you realized that while you were too individually weak, he couldn’t handle all of you. You did the honors of the inaugural blow -- undoing him with nightmares of his own demise as it came to fruition. It was the only time in all of your years of using your abilities that you hadn’t clenched your eyes shut and shrunk away. No, that time… that time you had leaned forward, eyes unblinking as you watched him writhe in fear before what was left of him was instead writhing in pain. It was easy, like dropping a heavy bucket with little care of what happened to its contents. 

As Aro dug, it was only then that you realized you smiled when you’d done it. It was funny, you supposed, that your sire’s worst fear had come to pass right as it transpired just moments before in his mind. The six of you, your five covenmates and yourself, tore him to shreds. No blood that you had tasted or would ever taste compared to the delicious freedom of his eternal rest. He died, truly died, afraid. He deserved worse.

It was short-lived though. After centuries of subjugation, the sudden freedom was a blessing and a curse and not a single one of you could really agree on what to do except to leave. It was devastating in the same way you would see the final struggle of a living thing fighting off its final moments before succumbing; they were certainly in a better place. Two of them went on their own. The other three traveled together elsewhere. At the end of it you found yourself alone and not wanting to be weak again a day in your life.

While the rebellion had been justified, it was an overthrow of power, something especially dangerous in the halls of Volterra and you had been the ring leader. After all, you were the only one in the group with a talent.

Aro rose to his feet, gently tugging you up with him. “Now that does complicate the narrative, doesn’t it…”

Your eyes flickered to Caius who was in turn staring him down. “Oh, come off it, Aro. You are not honestly considering letting her in.” He stalked up to where the two of you were standing. You looked up at both of the men, still a step below. “The Volturi do not give second chances!”

“If I may, I am not asking for a second chance.” Bold… This was bold of you… “I am petitioning for membership on the grounds that it was offered once before. Your opinions of me have not changed since the initial offer.”

“Yes, they have.” Caius spat.

“Mine haven’t,” Aro confirmed. “Although I wouldn’t be so sure that is a good thing.”

Bright red eyes bore down as you finally pulled your hand from his grasp. His fingertips brushed along your knuckles before his hands lowered in kind. Him looking through your mind just moments prior felt less invasive. You directed your attention instead to the less intense of the two.

“We should have killed you the second you walked in here.”

Very well. “If it is an apology you want I will give it.” Your eyes were locked on Caius, pure impudence meeting unbridled sadism. You knew it drove him crazy.

“Foolish girl-!”

“I am sorry!” You snapped at him. The words came out more like ‘shut up.’ They were just as effective though. Caius stood silent although the sneer was still on his face. Of course that would do it for him. You knew it. It was disgusting. Oh, how he loved seeing people grovel. The hate in that man’s heart…

You suddenly remembered yourself. Aro had seen that -- your distaste for Caius, your willingness to do anything to be a member of the Volturi, your deep regret that your sire had influenced you to be so brash. That was one of the worst things your sire ever did: convincing you that his opinions were yours.

“I will repeat to you what I said to you earlier. Forgive me for the insolence of my early days. It was unwise of me to have behaved in such a way… and-” You were practically choking on your apology, uselessly panting with the effort. Admittance that you were wrong had a bad mouthfeel, especially after decades being forced to do it. “-and I was wrong about all of it. Consider me corrected.”

If Caius had been biting back any of his cruel amusement before, he certainly wasn’t hiding it now. Marcus was now standing closer having meandered nearer during the course of the apology. And Aro… Aro had the most curious of soft smiles on his face. 

You were beginning to think you had made some kind of mistake coming here. You had laid almost all your cards bare. You had shown them you were desperate which was far worse than just being desperate. This was something you were going to have to amend for a good while if they accepted you. That you begged to be let in.

“I am satisfied,” Caius remarked, eyes settling on Aro. They were standing over you, all three of them. 

Some days ago you had come across a rat moments before it was devoured by three street dogs in an alleyway on your journey to Volterra. It must have looked like something like this to that rather unfortunate vermin, you thought to yourself.

Your head dropped in complete and utter humility, eyes only on the marble underfoot. Even the pristine stone was too good for you… You had been at the mercy of the three men before you since you set foot in this dreadful place. It was only at that premature moment you still had an ounce of pride in your body. It was far gone now.

“Marcus?”

“I am satisfied.”

“As am I.” Cold smooth fingers tucked under your chin. Aro’s. You must have looked something pitiful. “And this-” Aro tutted at you, lifting your face up. “-we will work on this.”

The gesture might have been kind, intimate even, if it was anyone but Aro. You didn’t really trust him as far as you could throw him but you knew enough in having seen his nightmares many years ago that he would not tolerate an ounce of self-deprecation in a vampire beyond paying their due respects to the Volturi, to him. He had seen quite enough from you. That much was true.

“Yes… sir?” You tested the title. You weren’t quite sure what to refer to him as.

Aro’s face took on something of a delighted expression. “Look at you using your manners. See, Caius; she learns.” The blonde vampire rolled his eyes. “I do appreciate it but ‘Aro’ will do just fine.”

Ah. Well, that was embarrassing. You nodded affirmatively. Marcus’ eyes flicked from Aro to you and back before he returned to his seat. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Jane smile something wicked.

“We shall get you new attire, especially now that you will be joining the guard after some fine-tuning, but there’s no sense in putting you in anything of the sort since we’re coming up on-” The side doors swung open and Heidi led in a group of tourists who were guffawing at the ceiling. Aro’s hands flew up like a child prince being brought an expensive present. In a sense, it was -- “-dinnertime!”

Oh, so this was how they fed. Aro steered you to the side and behind him with a hand clamped around your upper arm. Heidi sidled up to you.

“Welcome to the Volturi.”

“How did you know?”

“You are still in one piece.” Fair. 

Aro leaned over to you. “Now, next time you will join your compatriots along the wall but tonight we will make an exception -- something of a welcome gift…” He extended his arm to the group of mortals before you who were clicking pictures of the room. Like fish in a bucket… or however the expression went.

You raised a brow at him. 

“You first, my dear.”

A vampire along the wall by the name of Felix bobbed on his feet, antsy. You smiled and launched off the platform for the human before you. The both of you rolled together as you slammed him into the ground. Only his limbs flailed clumsily. Yours had been a vision of centuries of practice. A trained killer.

You bared your teeth. He screamed. Humans… 

Wandering aimlessly about the grounds, such expansive ones at that and with such independence, was novel to you. You weren’t entirely sure what to do with yourself; it was beautiful. Just months ago you had been sequestered to your corner of the world, never to go beyond a painfully small perimeter. And now here you were… surrounded by the most powerful of your kind. Nearly unrestricted access to the grounds. New clothes. Fresh blood, not whatever your sire didn’t finish. Eyes never black with hunger. The respect you got as a tentative member of the Volturi guard. It was new.

And the Italian air. Sure, you didn’t really need to breathe at all. There wasn’t a function to smelling it. But the air… The breeze in Volterra was something fresh, warm, earthy, sweet, like blood. It was even more perfumy at night.

Something about the years of being on edge, even as an immortal, still ran through your veins, through the very way you functioned. Even in your most relaxed moments, you could recognize when you were being followed. And someone was following you.

You stopped in your tracks, only peering over your shoulder.

A fraction of you thought to yourself -- how odd… Aro should’ve been better at this. Then you realized two things. The first was that if Aro was truly aiming for discretion in whatever he was about to do, there was no reason for it to be him here and now. The second was that it was also entirely possible that Aro simply didn’t care that you knew he was there… or, in fact, did want you to know. Your curiosity was a helpless one; you must’ve looked like a cat.

“I was wondering when you were going to catch on.”

Only the trees in the garden obscured him from you, not the darkness. “How did I do?”

Silence as he rounded the corner. Black suit. Red eyes. Dark hair slicked back. You let him approach until he was a pace away, slowly continuing. “Ten seconds before you caught me… there are a good many vampires who would have gone much longer if noticing me at all.”

“Will you subtract a moment or two since I contemplated not acknowledging you?”

“Hearsay.”

“Only if you have the ability to corroborate and don’t.” You held your hand out to the side toward him, stopping in your tracks. 

Aro only looked at it from the side of his eye, not even stopping. He did grace you with a smile though. “I should like to keep my victory unnegotiated.”

Ah, yes… the cat walking next to whatever you could call it that killed it. You closed the distance with a few long strides, now playing catch up with him. “You were loud.”

“I was not aiming for stealth.” If Aro was trying to humble you, it was working.

“And what was your target then?”

Silence again. It was comfortable. In time you came upon your favorite spot in the gardens — the point at which you could overlook the better portion of the town. It was beautiful -- quiet and empty for the most part at this time of night but the evidence of mortality there, living and dying… well, you still found it charming. 

“Would now be the appropriate time to thank you?”

“For heaven's what?”

“For…” You finally looked at him beside you. He wasn’t looking at you; perhaps he was gazing beyond this little enclave in Tuscany. “For your hospitality.”

“Hospitality is for guests.”

“I was a guest for a small while.”

“You were more of a defendant.”

“Well, then, I thank you for your arbitration.”

“My ‘arbitration’?”

“Yes.”

Aro exhaled for the show of it. “Do stop your simpering and get on with what you mean.” 

You were speechless.

“I didn’t say ‘shut up,’ did I?”

You blinked at him. “I suppose… I am grateful to be somewhere nicer.”

“I can hardly be thanked for your decision to come here.” He still refused to regard you. You imagined it was a rare thing for Aro to resist such expressions of the kind. He was a proud man after all. You looked back out at Volterra.

Aro finally turned his eyes to you. It was a withering look. Now that you obliged. “I saw quite a bit in that mind of yours. It is such a shame that you were thoroughly convinced of such horrible things.”

You were confused. “The only thing that I was convinced of was inferiority.”

“Like I said,” he snipped. “Horrible things.”

“Now how is that horrible,” you inquired. Surely this did not bother him personally. Aro did not strike you as the type. “I do you no injury in my lack of pride.”

“And you think it is good for the Volturi’s reputation, for the guard’s reputation to have but one who thinks themselves lesser than even humans?” Aro seemed to shudder at the ‘h word.’

Oh. There it was. He was right. Your head lowered.

He tilted your chin up for the second time. It wasn’t as gentle. This time it was a scolding. Aro was not pleased. He released it looking back onto the town. “And you must stop that. It’s unbecoming.”

It was lost on you how to respond. “Sorry.”

“Already forgiven, my dear.”

“I guess… I just want to thank you for taking a chance.”

Aro scoffed and looked at you fully. He wasn’t a tall man; his height was hardly what made him intimidating. What made him intimidating was the stature with which he carried himself, the raw power, the hunger, the intelligence. A man like him hadn’t gotten to where he was without some impressive cunning. 

“I might find low esteem from my subordinates satisfactory on the usual occasion. I will not mince my words -- on you it is a most distasteful thing. I will forgive its ugliness for its reaffirmation but only for a time.”

If there was any functional air in your lungs, it would’ve been snatched from you. His words were not harshly spoken nor were they loudly boomed at you. Instead they broke skin like something sharp to vulnerable flesh. Aro took an imposing step forward. You took one back but it wasn’t enough. Your neck was craned up at him despite every inner instinct to shrink away; you wouldn’t dare disobey him again. You weren’t sure he would be as kind.

“There is nothing so abhorrent as one of our kind — our superior, beautiful kind — acting in the embarrassing way you continue to. If I was capable of emptying my stomach at the thought, I would.” Aro plucked something minute off your shoulder before rolling it between his long fingers and discarding it to the wind. “And as far as taking a chance is concerned, I- The Volturi- do not ‘take chances.’ Make no mistake, there is no calculated risk with you being here.”

“I-”

“If that is an apology or another meaningless expression of gratitude poised on your tongue, I would advise that you hold it there.”

You could only gape up at him. He was leaning over you still, very close.

“You will show the full extent of your gifts tomorrow. I want you officially in the guard as soon as possible.” And with that, Aro was gone, stalking away into the gardens.

With about 12 hours to ruminate on Aro’s words to you, you had decided that he had a flair for melodrama. You also decided definitively that you would never let him know such a thing unless he pried the information from you, which he was indeed capable of. This… what you were being made to do before the Volturi… You would not define it with such levity. When Aro had said that you were to display the full extent of your gifts, he had meant it. 

It wasn’t certain whether it was you or the man writhing on the ground that was the subject of the gripping fear that your nightmares brought, what with your upper body being curled in on itself the way it was. Your fingers were curled at the ends of your locked arms with effort. The unfortunate human’s whimpers rattled along the domed ceiling, merely an accessory to the deep hum in your ears. 

There was an exaggerated yawn from behind you — showy for a vampire — Jane’s. And a voice cut through the whole of it, halting your powers immediately. “No, no. That won’t do at all.”

Because you had already been shrinking away at the time of the interruption you needed only to open your eyes. The body thudded to the floor. Relief. It wouldn’t last. Aro was shaking his head as he leaned against his throne.

“You, my dear-” he pushed off his spot and stopped just behind you “-are holding back.”

The man, as far as you could tell, was only deeply phobic of spiders. It was how you had done it the dozens of times you’d done it before. Except for…

Out of the corner of your eye, Caius held a finger to his temple, rolling his eyes. Asshole… Aro’s voice pulled you back. “Try again.”

You clenched your eyes shut, your chest coiling up in kind. The man began wheezing almost instantaneously, the only sound in the room.

“No.” Aro cut in once again and you dropped focus. You turned to face him, your muscles loosening in the way that only annoyance could make them. His red eyes glimmered back at you. “That is not what I meant. Again.”

You huffed. You’ve done it once before, his face seemed to say. Who were you kidding… that was exactly what his sharp features said. When you had channeled that much power, you had been in an entirely different state of mind. That had been the raw rage you had buckled behind survival. All you had done was suddenly unleash it. You weren’t certain that you still had it in you. “Aro. I can’t-”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Nonsense. His hand straightened to a point — the human, once more. 

You faced more of your body, still tense, eyes clamping shut. Your arms locked to your sides and you willed the fear forward before you tensed — thunder in your ears. Your muscles reacted in pure instinct, the man weeping in perfect time. Despite the overwhelming physical sensation of pushing the abstract forward, you could feel Aro behind you. It was stronger this time.

Oh, the man wasn’t just afraid of spiders.

Between the spiders, flickering amidst the impossible number of angular legs and blinking sets of eyes, the insects that dribbled into every corner of his vision, there was something else. A girl with one dark eye and a knife. She was young.

You jolted backward, knocking briefly against Aro. If he minded he didn’t indicate any such sentiment. Your lip curled into a sneer. The human… he was pleading with a higher power that was certainly not listening if it was there at all. Pathetic.

When your eyelids closed this time they didn’t tighten. It was a flutter. And this time when your muscles tensed, you trembled. Where there was air between the clawed fingers at your side, you imagined the man’s fleshy neck. This… this was righteous. The girl began closing in, spiders skittering out of her path.

Aro’s voice brushed your ear. “May I?” You nodded your head, although you weren’t certain as to what exactly you were agreeing to. Aro would not harm you; you were sure of it.

It felt like a baptism. In a way it was. Feather light, Aro’s fingers ghosted first at the base of your neck, gently pulling the muscles out to your shoulders. In the touch you were acutely aware that it wasn’t intimacy that Aro was after; he was honing you. Your nightmares were only encouraged.

Aro’s hands smoothed over your shoulders with a quiet mastery -- tender in the way a sculptor guided pliable clay between their fingers as it spun at their behest. The harshness was gone with but a swipe. 

The man bellowed. He sounded now more of a screeching animal than man. The girl picked up her pace, almost a jog. The knife winked at him.

It turned into a full grasp as Aro traveled down your biceps, tugging the astriction out. He chased the natural form of the muscle down your elbows into the joint of your wrist. The rigidity in your fingers released at the pressure he placed there -- conjoined in poise.

You pushed a stronger assault of terror forward to meet the man. Long gone were the spiders. There was a small part of you that recognized that he wished for the insects instead of the young girl with a bruise ready to bury the knife in his chest, his stomach, anywhere the business end would find purchase. She was standing over him.

He screamed. Yes, ‘scream’ was the right word for it…

You spectated his nightmare; the girl with the dark eye had already started plunging her blade into him. Again. Again. Again. Again.

Aro’s hands shed themselves from your arms but only for a moment. Your chin bloomed with the familiar feeling of his fingers, turning it and angling it upright. Proud as it was meant to be.

He whispered again. “Look.” It was a gruesome sight. 

The possibility that the man had begun gouging out his own eyes the moment Aro had begun amending your posture was a good one. If that was the case he had indeed made decent progress. The man was on his knees and his left eye hung from its socket like a generous helping of hot cheese, swinging. You almost wanted to applaud the man’s zeal. Only a desperate rodent would have done what he had. His grubby fingers pushed into his own skull again, getting around the other eye, bemoaning his self-inflicted plight. He seemed to be chewing the air. There was viscera on the marble -- not the first time it had been so defiled and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Still, you didn’t relent; you had never extended your power this far. God, why hadn’t you done it before… Sure, you- no, he had taken his eyes but somehow it wasn’t enough. The young girl brandishing the blood-soaked knife was still angry. This was justice. And he hadn’t yet paid in full.

He howled, writhing.

Marcus approached at the very edge of your vision. “Aro… is this-?” 

He was halted by an upheld hand, the other slowly falling from your chin. Aro watched you as you watched the man, watched his nightmares.

“We needn’t toy any longer.”

The thunder in your ears rumbled to silence. “This is toying? If you saw what I saw, you’d know…”

Marcus seemed taken aback. You weren’t sure if it was because of how true your words were or how right they sounded coming from your mouth.

You drifted back to the man. “He deserves it.” Your voice came out no louder than a whisper.

“It’s alright, Marcus. We asked for an assessment-” The ensuing squelch and sudden cry indicated the man had found success on his second endeavor. “-and we have indeed received one.”

You found Aro’s eyes with yours.

There was something of an assuaged smile -- his bright teeth wolfish. The feeling of your cheeks pulled up was the only sign to yourself that you had been smiling. You took the moment to look about the room. Caius was staring at the man on the floor, mouth slightly ajar.

“Well?”

He turned his head first then his eyes. A grin.

You beheld the grotesque body with a sneer. He hadn’t even had the decency to look artful as he went -- his body held upright by the leverage of his spine against his heels. Pathetic. The way he dug at his own face like that… like you were some tumor, something he could just rip out of himself if he tried hard enough and be done with. He died as stupid as he looked. Your chest flared at the offense.

Aro was still standing near you. “Par excellence.”

You digested his words. You understood now. This was what he had known you were capable of. In just moments, Aro had cured you of your affliction, the debilitation of timidity. You matched his smile.

“Would now be the appropriate time to thank you?”

It was met with a giddy laugh. Aro clapped his hands together, utterly delighted at your words, your smile. He gulped it down and stepped backward offering you an expressive bow complete with arms outstretched. “No ‘thanks’ necessary. You… you are a credit to our kind.”

You bobbed your head in courteous reply to his own bow, unable to hide your giggle.

“You were never anything but.”

[cosmos-coma]

'Did you know..?"

A/N: A request/suggestion by the ever-lovely @beardedladyqueen! While Regis isn't really my thing personally I'm always more than happy to experiment with characters and see what makes people happy! I also realized while writing this that I... I'm just Reigs. I'm an herbalist who just loves to tell people fun facts and maybe falls a little in love when people use scientific names.

Pairing: Regis x Reader

Words: 727

____________________

Birds tweeted eloquently from above, their feather-light songs bouncing off each other and stitching themselves into a fantastic melody. The wind rustled through the delicate grass, tickling your arms as you cut another leaf off the little plant. The large umbrella of shade trees above provided a welcome respite from the wicked heat of the day as well as a comforting sense of protection as it watched over your dutiful work.

“Alright, thank you little plant, that's all…” you said with a quick smile as you stood back up and placed your fistful of leaves into an empty jar. Quietly your feet padded around the well-worn protrusions- headstones dappling the surrounding landscape- as you look for your next plant. Your fingers brushed against a particularly moss-covered wall as you made your way around a moss-covered mausoleum when you were nearly scared out of your own skin.

“Aah!” you exclaimed, jumping about a foot in the hair, your hands immediately clutching your chest as you spotted him, “oh- ah, wow… I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t know anybody else was here..” you explained as you looked over at the figure sitting before a long-gone campfire. He had dark gray hair pushed back and away from his face, matching sideburns that emphasized already prominent cheekbones, and tired eyes that you’re sure made him look far older than he really was. But you found it all rather endearing, he looked as if he spends all night carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet still seemed to hold the sunniest disposition.

“Oh, that’s quite alright.” the older man said, standing up from his fire to turn to you. “I wasn’t aware anyone frequented this area- oh, forgive my manners” he held his hand out to you, “I’m Regis… “ he said as he shook your hand.

You introduced yourself in turn with a gentle smile and a shake of his hand. “It's been a while since I've foraged here if I’m being honest, so I doubt I could lay much claim to it.” 

“Hmm, is that lily of the valley and… do I smell lemon balm?” The vampire inquired with curious excitement as your hands came close, now peeking over to look toward your herb-laden basket.

You chuckled with surprise and showed him your collection, “What an amazing nose you have..! Yes, I just gathered some before I came around the corner.”

Regis's lips pulled into a sheepish smile, knowing he was perhaps being a little too telling with his vampiric talents than he would have liked, “yes, well I-I think the scent must still be on your hands,” he said, straightening his posture a bit more, “I actually dabble a bit into herbalism as well… did you know that lemon balm can be used for anxiety, appetite, and even-” 

“-Insomnia,” you two said in unison, causing you both to pause before easy laughter filled the otherwise lonesome cemetery.

You grinned brightly as you shook your head, “Yes, actually that's what I’m gathering it for… I’ve been having absolutely dreadful sleep lately and was hoping Miss Melissa officinalis could help me out a bit with that”, you said with the slightest tinge of blush- no one ever wanted to talk plants with you before. Usually, people just listened for a bit to amuse you, but rarely did they ever want to bring it up again. Yet here this older man stood before you with an almost giddy smile that was barely hidden behind a veil of well-mannered resignation. 

Regis on the other hand thought his immortal heart might just burst out of his chest and onto the floor, then and there. A fellow herbal enthusiast and you can drop a scientific name into conversation like it's nothing? He couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled so broadly at something so seemingly small. 

“I- please, forgive me if this is too forward,” Regis started, nearly tripping over his seat as he stepped forward. He knew it was terribly unlike himself to be so clumsy, but for some reason, he just couldn’t seem to help it. “but would you mind if I accompanied you while you continue to forage?”

Your shy but determined smile captivated him like the first glimpse of morning light as you held your basket out to the love-struck vampire.

 “Only if you promise to carry the basket.”

__________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @madamemelancholysstuff @dark-academia-slut

Want to be on a Taglist? Did my brain slip and I forgot to tag you? DM me to let me know!

[trudemaethien]

Ship: Fives/Boil

Words: Convict, scholar, dog

have fun making it weird <3

‘kay so the spirit of the prompts is there, promise. if you squint as hard as Dogma. also idk about making it weird but i hope i hit hot? 😘

Everyone knows what the red triangles mean, but it’s not so easy to quantify. During off-hours, commanders shut down their good-idea-fairies, break up any groups made up entirely of them, monitor them for contraband—but it’s not that they are troublemakers or criminals, not exactly.

They also tend to be more highly decorated, have better chances of making it through the chaos of a battle, be more willing to take chances, and more open to taking a shiny under their pauldron.

But it’s not done to inquire into what exactly happened or ask why a trooper’s paint includes one. It might not even be an event. Hardcase, who bore none himself, had taken one look at shiny CT-6922 and gotten out a red brush for him, way before he’d gotten boots on the ground. No one understands quite why, yet, but Hardcase’s faith is unflinching.

It can even be a bit of an unspoken connection between brothers who’ve never seen each other before, which is what is happening now.

The goldie tips his red-arrow and dark-ship-diagram festooned helmet in interest toward Fives across the landing deck, and Fives tilts his own in a return of the sentiment. They’ll almost certainly run into each other again tonight, despite the thronging mass of two battalions worth of troopers on deck.

Fives grins and heads to the barracks to in-process. He’s getting out of this armor and into civvies. Not to make it too hard for the other guy to find him, but—yeah, a little bit.

If the other guy is a red arrow, he’ll enjoy the hunt.

<><>

A heavy hand claps down on his shoulder and a brother with what has to be a dare-shave leans down into his space. Fives does his best not to inhale the shandy he’d been swallowing as he turns to greet the newcomer.

…who doesn’t lean back very far. Their faces are much less than polite speaking distance apart.

“Hel-lo,” Fives says, because flirting is his go-to.

“You’re a hard man to find,” the brother says with wry good humor. “I’m Boil.”

“Fives.”

“How— are you guys old buddies, or only just now meeting?” Dogma asks, squinting between the two of them.

“Yes,” says Fives at the same time that Boil says “No.”

They both grin delightedly, darting a shot-quick glance aside at one another.

Dogma thins his lips, but drowns his objections in the last slug of his drink. “I’m going to find Tup,” he announces, sliding out of his seat, and to Fives, “Do not light anything on fire while I’m not with you.”

Good man. He’s growing into it, little by little.

“Fire, huh?” Boil asks.

“Nah, was thinking something a bit hotter than that,” Fives says.

Boil gets his drift. “Oh?” he says leadingly, and leans back in his seat, hooking his elbows over the top of the chair back.

Fives turns and slips his fingers under the raised hem of Boil’s civvie shirt, tracing boldly up from the crest of his hipbone to just beneath his ribs and digging in a little.

Boil’s near hand advances up his arm past his shoulder until his fingers are in Fives hair and his palm lays sure and heated on his nape.

“Your beard is juuust going to touch mine,” Boil points out. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Complaining?” Fives teases.

“Hell no.”

🔻🔒 https://archiveofourown.org/works/51600877

[sea-owl]

I got inspired, so enjoy a part two to my ABO Colleen and Penelope post

AO3: Link

-

Dear Gentle Reader,

It appears congratulations are in order for Miss Penelope Featherington. This author has heard the young miss has indeed presented as an omega, thus making her the new heiress to the Featherington estate. Perhaps the wallflower will finally be plucked from the wall. . .

Colleen growled and tossed the letter into the fire. Over her dead body was anyone going to steal her omega away.

-

The day Anthony returned from the country side Colleen made sure she was at Bridgerton House and in his office.

"Big brother I have marvelous news to tell you!"

"You couldn't have given me one day Colleen?" Anthony sighed as he closed the ledger. "Where do you want to travel to now?"

"No where."

Anthony blinked and looked up. "No where?"

"No where," Colleen repeated as she sat down in one of the chairs. "I am actually planning to take the marriage market seriously this year, just like you!"

Anthony dropped his pen. "You are going to allow yourself to be courted?"

Colleen shuddered at the thought of some random gentleman trying to chase her. Absolutely not, if anyone will be doing the chasing it will Colleen, and there is only one she plans to chase. "Actually I will be the one doing the courting."

Anthony did not say anything for the longest moment. He got up two glasses and his good brandy. "I did not realize there was an omega son you were interested in."

Colleen took one of the glasses. "There isn't. I intend to court an omega daughter as is my right as an alpha."

Anthony paused before downing his glass. "It is unconventional," Anthony warned. "The ton will talk."

"But not unheard of," Colleen replied, not even bothering to hide her smile. "And the ton always talks, it's why Lady Whistledown does such good business here."

-

Ah there she was, she looked so precious eating an eclair. Colleen could just eat Penelope up. Actually that might not be a bad idea for later. . .

Keeping her footsteps soft Colleen moved towards her prey. Closer and closer until she was just behind her omega. "Hello Penelope."

Penelope jumped turning towards the alpha. "Colleen!"

Some of the cream from her eclair had fell, landing on her bosom. Colleen had scooped it up before Penelope could. Sucking the sweet cream from her gloved fingers.

Penelope's face blushed red as she watched Colleen clean off her fingers. She licked her own lips. Colleen grinned, oh she was going to have fun chasing her omega.

Colleen leaned closer, her lips brushing against Penelope's ear. "Tastes almost as good as you."

Penelope let out a whimper. "Alpha."

"Yes omega?"

Penelope seemed to gather herself then, remembering just where she and Colleen were. "Colleen!" She hissed. "We are at a ball! This is not the place-"

"Yes I agree," Colleen said. "I too would rather much be back in our bed-"

"Our bed?!"

"-but a carriage would do for now too."

"Colleen," Penelope sighed.

Colleen had to resist the urge grab Penelope's hand, despite every instinct in her screaming to grab hold of her omega. Her unclaimed omega.

Colleen suddenly became very aware of the alpha and beta sons around them. Some of them watching Penelope out of the corners of their eyes. Their gazes landing on Penelope's neck which displayed her bond choker. Colleen let out a warning growl under her breathe (something that would get her wacked on the back of the head should either her mother or Anthony hear) and took Penelope's hand. "Come Pen, we are going to dance."

At least on the dance floor they'll have some privacy, and Colleen can make her claim very clear. Alpha daughters typically don't lead dances unless they intend to court.

Penelope smiled a small smile. "Colleen you are astonishing."

Colleen preened.

"But you don't have to do this."

What?

Penelope lowered her voice so no one could hear them. "You were not in rut and I was not in heat. There is no risk of me being with child, and I do not have the correct parts for you to be with child either. You are a good alpha, and a honorable one. You deserve a mate you love."

Colleen tightened her grip on Penelope. Her omega thought she was doing this because of their love making and that Colleen was being honorable? Colleen had to fight the urge to scoff. "While I would very much like to know who taught you about martial relations to know that we can not make a child outside of heats and ruts honor is not why I am doing this."

Penelope furrowed her brow. "I do not understand."

Colleen twirled Penelope, their skirts swishing into one another. "Only a few only suspect your secondary gender right now, but in a few days they will know and start taking their chances to 'pluck the wallflower from the wall.'"

Penelope gasped. "How?"

"In your haste to leave the other day it seems you misplaced a letter."

Penelope bit back a curse. Damn! So that's where that letter went. She had to rewrite the thing when she made it to the church.

"Are you angry?"

"Very," Colleen answered, tightening her grip. "As I told you before, Penelope running around London is dangerous."

The music stopped. Colleen signed her name once and then twice. She'll sign again for a third time later. Her claim will be known.

"Another dance Pen?"

[fanaticsnail]

Snail you can't just say "any fandom" I can and will write for transformers with songs by steam powered giraffe don't TEMPT ME!!!!

Real talk though, my first thought went to Lindir or Thorin from The Hobbit (if you didn't know, he's Elrond's right hand and a musician in Rivendell, he doesn't get much screen time but there's a healthy amount of consistent fanon interpretations)

To the song "Come Home With Me" and/or "Wedding Song" from Hadestown and "Dancing and the Dreaming" from How To Train Your Dragon 2, respectively

(strap in, this will take a while)

My idea for the Hadestown songs has less concrete dancing.

Lindir meets the group travelling to the mountain and is flustered by a traveller with them. When the group eats Elrond (wise beyond comprehension and also a little bored and up for some wingmanning) introduces Lindir as their minstrel for the evening, claiming he can sing a song so beautiful you'll fall in love. In this Reader would be a little more boisterous and confident (being in a company of dwarves) and encourages him to give it his best shot. He sings a quick tune about falling in love but when he gets to the part about a proposal the dwarves start laughing at him and he flusters and trails off. You feel bad for him and also happened to enjoy his singing so you put aside your pride to prompt him with your own singing. Framing it as good natured teasing (so the dwarves don't relentlessly tease you), "lover tell me if you can, who's gonna buy the wedding band?" And he joins in and you bounce off each other. Eventually getting up to get in his space more to hopefully fluster him because the dwarves are enjoying how juicy this is getting and you feel a little in too deep now you gotta even the playing field. Only music is his specialty and he feels completely at home in the song. He eventually goes off on a beautiful riff that echoes across the table and manages to fluster you! Trying to get back some of your pride (he's visibly waiting for your turn again) you begin to slightly dance around him, brushing an arm against him here and there and leaning closer to ask who'll make the wedding bed. Naturally flustering him.

The other song (Dancing and the Dreaming) happens when the company stop for a night (you've been travelling with them) and naturally start singing as they love to do. Some dancing kicks up around the fire and you've had your fun with Oin, Bombur and Dwalin and even the brothers Filli and Killi, but Thorin refuses to dance at all. The others notice and (conspiring, having noticed their leaders "hidden" affection for you) ask him to sing a song. Just him, not them. Well, maybe it's the the warmth of the fire, the atmosphere of joyous singing and dancing, the long journey. Or maybe it's the way you smile at him with stars in your eyes, refusing to stutter in your gaze as if he is the most important thing you've ever seen. He sings a love song. Slow and hesitant and a little quiet because he's nervous, he picked a song from human culture - purely a random choice, nothing to do with the idea that if it conveys his feelings he might satisfy the longing to whisk you away on a dance. But it just makes his voice rasp more and you're leaning in closer to hear him, his heart skipping a beat. And then he gets to the part where a woman would join and trails off. Leaving an awkward silence. Until you join in with your voice. The dwarves laugh joyously as the beat picks up and their infectious energy and your smile and reciprocation gives him confidence to jump up and dance with you as you skip in circles. It's a folk dance, circling around each other, swinging away with your hands intertwined to twirl you back to each other's embrace. When the song ends abruptly you're facing each other, hands held and chests brushing with your panting breaths, grinning and breathing each other's air.

Listen. Listen.

You listen here.

Lindir.

Immediately yes.

(it's the fact his og fan name was Figwit until he was named 💀. That brings a smile to my face)

And the song recs?! The way I'm already attempting to perfect For the Dancing and the Dreaming irl for a wedding in 6 weeks (my baby brother).

Thorin dancing, Thorin dancing, Thorin dancing.

LOOK AT YOU WRITING FULL PROSE. MY WORD, SNAIL!!!

You are just coming in with all the beautiful thoughts. I adore you for it.

[queercontrarian]

azris week day 7: epilogue

AN: this week was so fun! thank you for doing this event @azrisweek

okay now on to the fluff! no content warnings, they're just disgustingly in love (also insinuated mpreg lol)

Eris found Azriel in his usual space, standing on the terrace, eyes on the horizon. His wings were open wide, catching the last warm rays of the sun. He didn't move when Eris came to stand next to him, but he reacted to the air warming around them, relaxing a little when he felt the familiar magic. Eris smiled when his husband shuffled closer to him, his large wings shielding his back from the cool shadow of the house.

They'd been spending more and more time at their estate on the coast of Caritni, especially Azriel. He fell in love with the house from the moment he first set foot in it during their honeymoon. Eris suspected it was because of the big windows. He could see both the sea and the mountains of Silesia from the balcony facing north. He knew Azriel missed the mountain wind of Illyria more than he'd ever admit and this place was the next best thing.

The house was filled with good memories spanning centuries. Azriel had spent the majority of all three pregnancies here, their children had been born and raised in these rooms. They had learned to speak and walk and fly in Caritni and even though they were all grown up now they still visited this home more than any of the others, the Forest House included.

Azriel had even considered moving his mother here but she flat out refused to leave Illyria.

"What are you thinking about?" Eris asked his husband, whose eyes were still on the sun setting over the woods and hills further inland.

"Did you bring Hila?" he replied. Eris shook his head.

"She was adamant that she wanted to finish the negotiations with Sasha before the end of the month. I have a feeling she might use my absence to light a fire under his ass." Azriel chuckled.

"After dealing with you for over a thousand years, your brother should be equipped to handle it," he said. Eris laughed, reaching for his husband's hand.

"He should."

"She works too much." Despite the neutral tone Eris could tell his mate was upset. He squeezed his hand gently. Azriel preferred Caritni over the Forest House, he always had, but while Eris was willing to winnow every night to see his mate, their eldest daughter was around much less these days.

"She's an Heir."

"Nyx doesn't work nearly as hard," Azriel pointed out. Eris gave his husband a look to show exactly what he thought of his nephew's work ethic. Then he shrugged.

"She's your daughter after all."

"Oh, so it's my fault Hila is a workaholic?" Azriel huffed. Eris bit back a laugh and shook his head, linking his fingers with Azriel's to stop him from crossing his arms to lock in his sulking.

"I'm sure she gets it from both of us," he conceded, "After all, when do we ever sit still?"

"We are right now," Azriel argued, and Eris suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Azriel trying to lecture someone else on not spending enough time on themselves was so incredibly hypocritical he would have snorted if he didn't know Azriel was genuinely worried for their daughter.

"First of all, still standing. And second, yes - after over a thousand years." Azriel just stared at him, his eyebrows raised so high they almost seemed to touch his hairline. Up close he could see a couple of grey hairs in his dark curls and Eris had to stop himself from brushing his fingers through them.

"What I'm trying to say is give her time to figure out her pace. She'll know what she can and can't handle," he concluded, and Azriel sighed.

"I guess," was all he said and Eris took that as permission to finally move in and carefully wrap his arms around his husband's torso, pulling him close as they watched the sun set over the Autumn Court.

"I love you," he murmured.

"I love you too," Azriel answered, his voice equally soft, then added, "even though you work too much too." Eris kissed him on the cheek.

"Get inside then. I'll show you just how serious I am about my work, as a High Lord, a father, and a husband." Azriel's laughter was slightly muffled as Eris kissed him again, and again, and again, until long after the sun had already disappeared beyond the hills.

[victorluvsalice]

-->And then I checked in on Victor and Alice, and found Victor had flown off to one of the log benches near the public campfires to nap (I’d seen him get on his broom before, but hadn’t been sure where he was going), and Alice was currently running off to light another campfire somewhere – not entirely sure it was the same one. Now, I had also recently noticed that, for some reason, eating the Three Sisters Chili had NOT actually fulfilled the BBQ tradition for Victor (or Alice, but as she ignores that tradition due to her Loner trait, it didn’t matter so much for her), so I figured I might as well see if roasting some marshmallows over the campfire fulfilled it! Plus it just seemed like a fun activity for the three to do while they waited for it to get dark enough for fireworks. :) I thus sent everyone over to the public campground, woke up Victor, had Smiler light the fire, and tried to set up a marshmallow roast –

Only to discover that neither Victor nor Smiler could get into position to do so. Apparently there was exactly one seat where a Sim could roast marshmallows, and Alice had it. I tried to have Smiler at least play their guitar by the fire, but no dice there either. *frowns at EA* Did you guys really not check if the campfires were properly usable before placing them? Though I guess my game could just be glitchy...this save feels like it’s getting more and more unstable, honestly…

-->With marshmallows off the table for everyone but Alice, and the hour growing late, I figured it was time to do the fireworks and then send everyone home – Victor and Alice WERE getting rather tired, after all. I thus sent the trio back to the rental house, and – after ascertaining they couldn’t properly use the fire pit at the rental either (couldn’t even light that one!) – had Smiler put their three fireworks into the world and got Victor and Alice over to watch as they started lighting them. To my annoyance, while the first firework went off beautifully, neither Victor nor Alice were properly watching – hell, Victor insisted on flying BACK to the public campground to take another nap on the log benches there! Annoyed, I had him hop right back on his broom and return while Smiler got the spark fountain firework ready – fortunately, this one went off without a hitch too, and THIS time Victor and Alice took the time to watch it, at least partially fulfilling the tradition for them. Once everybody was done with that one, I had Smiler move onto the final mortar shot –

Aaaand it proved to be a dud. Meh. *shakehead* Well, at least they got two good fireworks out of the three! And the tradition was fulfilled enough that everyone had a good time. *nods*

-->And with THAT, it was finally back home, so Victor and Alice could get some sleep. Or, well, so Alice could get some sleep – I sent her straight up to bed, while Victor got sent to the barbecue on the back porch to make some grilled fruit. Reason? The BBQ tradition is one he loves because of his traits, and thus I really wanted him to fulfill it. :) He managed to stay awake until he completed the dish, happily – and even got Cooking level 7 from it, good for him. :D I then had him magically fix all the broken wind turbines (again, yes) before sending him to bed. Smiler, meanwhile, cleaned out more spoiled food from the fridge (while I put the chili and the grilled fruit in it – and grabbed their plasma fruit back OUT of it for them), cleared a twisted tendril from the back yard, and gave Shadow a brush before ending the playsession jamming out on their guitar, with Shadow, and later Shock, as their enthusiastic audience. :)

And there we have it! Bit of a difficult playsession at times, but ultimately a rewarding one – it’s always nice to send the trio out and about to see new places! And even if I don’t plan to get them a horse or anything like that, it was nice to visit Chestnut Ridge and get a look at the place. :) Next time, the gang heads out to a different desert world to do some more food sales -- see you then!

[jadethest0ne]

In need of Refueling, Chapter 31 - Anger Management

Summary:  “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the  White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red  Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 2449

Ratings/Warnings:  Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse.

Notes: Red Son and Sandy have another heart-to-heart

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo  for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep  some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!  

Read on AO3

———-

Red Son had been spending a lot of his free time with MK and Mei lately, so when Sandy had to do some shopping for mechanical items and parts to further make repairs on the houseboat, Red Son was happy to go with him and finally have some time with his friend. The two are walking through the marketplace, winding through some smaller mom and pop shops that Sandy frequents. He chats a lot with the owners and Red Son again marvels at how many friends he has and how he’s able to get along with nearly everyone. The damage that the Spider Queen had done to the city is nearly completely cleaned up, and Red Son smiles contentedly at the repaired town. He looks over at Sandy chatting with one store owner, and the contented smile fades slightly.

Sandy has been acting… odd lately, Red Son thinks. Yes, Sandy had encouraged him to spend more time with MK and Mei, but at times it seemed almost as if Sandy was partially distancing himself from people. Not just from Red Son, but from the noodle shop, too. At first Red Son thought it was just because there was a lot of work to do on the boathouse. But it was Sandy’s overall demeanor that had changed ever so slightly. His form seemed a bit more hunched. He held his hands just ever so slightly closer to his body. He didn’t gesticulate as much while he talked, and even his voice seemed to be somewhat quieter.

Red Son would’ve brushed it off altogether, but at one point he noticed Pigsy looking at Sandy with a strange expression on his face. It was almost… sad. Pigsy had then pulled Sandy aside and they had a talk in hushed tones in the corner of the restaurant. Red Son thinks back to his overheard conversation between them just before he got the job at the noodle shop. And looking over at the part of the city that had been the scene of their fight with the Spider Queen, he remembers Sandy’s own confrontation with the demon. How powerful he had been. And that look of shame immediately after throwing a blow. Red Son could’ve swore that he saw Sandy wear some similar expressions in the weeks following.

Red Son distractedly fondles the metallic flame on his hair tie while mulling over his thoughts, which are broken slightly as Sandy looks his way and gives a smile. Red Son shakes away his thoughts and smiles back. No. He was not going to let his brooding nature ruin a perfectly fine outing with his companion. Sandy seems in good spirits today anyway, and talking motors and parts is their way of bonding and having fun. Furthermore, it had been nearly a week since Red Son had started braiding his hair, and he had yet to have a fiery outburst, so he was feeling rather proud of himself. He widens his grin, and quickly joins Sandy in picking out some tools.

The two continue on from that store and start to walk to their next destination.

“That seems to be helping with grounding you during potential outbursts,” Sandy says, pointing at the hair tie that Red Son is still playing with.

The fire demon blinks at it momentarily, then swings it across his shoulder, dramatically sticking out his chin and puffing out his chest confidently. “Yes! Between the Dragon Girl’s idea and your training, I think I’ve succeeded quite well at keeping my fire under control!” He looks up at Sandy out of the corner of his eye, not at all looking for praise, but preens under it when it is given freely right after.

“Yes! You’ve been doing amazing, Red Son! You’ve made great progress!”

Red Son nods as if the statement were expected and obvious, but can’t help himself from puffing up even further.

“Well, I had a great teacher,” he says, elbowing Sandy affectionately.

They’re now walking through a section of the city that was hit the worst by the Spider Queen’s attacks. Red Son recognizes it as the place where they all had their final confrontation with her. Some construction is still going on, but the area is walkable and the usual stores are already open. They approach a place that Sandy said he used to frequent a lot, but unlike most of the folks that Sandy seems to know in the markets, who greet the blue giant with a friendly and familiar wave, the owner of this particular store answers Sandy’s smile with a dangerous looking scowl.

“How dare you show your face here again,” says the man.

The two stop in their tracks. Red Son looks the man up and down. He has a square face and short and stocky features. Similar to Pigsy, but a bit taller and more muscular. His dark grey hair is pulled back into a tight braid.

Sandy’s eyebrows pull up in confusion and a bit of hurt. “What’s wrong, Hunter? What did I do?”

The man, apparently named Hunter, stomps out of his shop and stands with his arms crossed, as if blocking the two of them from getting closer to his store. “It’s what you didn’t do that’s more like it!”

“I don’t understand what you mean…” Sandy waves his hands about as if physically grasping for an answer. It doesn’t pass Red Son’s notice that the gesture is smaller and closer to his body than what would be normal for him.

“I saw you that day - when that giant spider demon came to the city. You stood in front of that mechanical monstrosity and then did nothing!” he spoke through gritted teeth.

“I- there was not much I could do,” Sandy said simply, but there was a small hesitation there, as if he himself almost didn’t believe his own statement.

“Not much you could–” Hunter sputtered. “I SAW you blast a HOLE through that thing-” he shakes a tightly clenched fist with his forefinger pointed up, “-with one punch!!!” He steps forward and then points the finger at Sandy. “How can you say there wasn’t anything you could do?!”

Sandy falters, “I was worried about any fallout of what a fight could do…”

Red Son nods in agreement. While he didn’t stick around much after that situation, he knew that the fight would’ve potentially endangered MK who was inside the mech. Sandy must have stopped because of that. And yet…

“You mean like the fallout of a mech rampaging through the city and damaging my shop, along with many other people’s livelihoods? Oh ho ho - no!” he laughs mirthlessly, “I saw. You froze. You got scared and lost your courage and just sat there and did nothing!”

Red Son distinctly remembers looking back at Sandy as he ran away from the scene. He didn’t see his face, but he recognized the body language of one who had frozen up. But he wasn’t so sure if it was fear… He remembers the defeated look of Sandy when he saw him again inside the mech after he had been captured. He hadn’t wanted to see that again. But unfortunately, as Red Son turns to the large man, a similar look is on his face. It is af the spirit had drained from his features. A look that Red Son was rather familiar with himself. It is one of shame and deep-seated regret. Red Son’s heart clenches at the sight. Then his fists similarly clench, but this time in anger as he stares at the man who continues on in his insults.

"You clearly had the ability to fight the Spider demon, but then you just stopped. I know about you. Everyone here knows about you. You’re all nice and friendly now. But we know what you were. You used to be some great terror! Where did that go? We could've used that! Now you're just some cowardly scum!"

"You shut your peasant mouth!" Red Son can’t take anymore of this. He stands between Sandy and this hateful man in front of him. “What do you know, you ignorant clod?” He feels the familiar heat rise in his body, flowing up through his stomach to his chest to his head. He stamps forward, sparks flying errantly from between his gnashing teeth. “This man has more bravery and honor than someone like you could ever have!” He feels his hair bristle, then quiver, then immediately burst into flames, braid unraveling instantly. He ignores the soft klink of something metallic hitting the ground. He shouts at the man, letting all of his anger appear around him as physical flames. “How dare you point fingers when you were cowering away from the fight!”

The man, like the coward he is, shrinks on the spot; a frightened look covering his features. Red Son can only imagine how high his flames are right now and how angry he seems. He doesn't care, he wants this man to feel fear and anguish. "Lacking the guts you clearly don't have, I suggest you get out of here like the spineless worm you are before I show you the power of a real demon!"

Red Son lets out one last fire, fueled snarl before the man runs away, yelling in fear. He scurries into his shop, slams its doors and windows shut with an audible locking noise. Curtains are drawn and lights are turned off, as the man hides in the store and doesn’t come out.

Fire kicks around Red Son’s form as he stands there breathing heavily in front of the now silent shopfront. Cutting through his angry haze, a much too small for his size voice pipes up from behind him.

"Red Son..."

Sandy's quiet call has an immediate effect. The fire snuffs out in a puff and shame bubbles in Red Son's stomach. He feels his hair fall around his face and shoulders in a messy heap; flames no longer keeping it up, and braids no longer keeping it restrained. Yet again he failed to keep his anger in check. Yet again his rash nature gets the best of him. And yet again a familiar voice echoes in his brain: ‘such a disappointment…’

He whips around and without thinking rambles out, "I'm sorry, Father--"

Sandy is standing there awkwardly holding Red Son’s hair tie, and blinks dumbly.

Red Son blinks as well, and quickly corrects, curling in on himself slightly, "I-I mean I'm sorry, Sandy." He squeezes the fabric of his jacket in between his fists. "I didn't mean that... And I didn't mean to get angry again. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fail your instructions again-!"

Sandy steps forward and that motion causes Red Son's face to jolt up nervously at Sandy. Sandy stops in his tracks and holds up his hands in a placating gesture. A double amount of shame throbs within Red Son. He regrets almost immediately flinching at Sandy’s approach. He just failed to keep his powers under control, and now he must be making Sandy feel worse when he’s already been made to feel insecure about his strength and appearance. But Sandy’s expression is unreadable to Red Son. He didn't mean to call him that. How embarrassing. And how shameful that he couldn't control his temper for even a week.

His self berating is cut off.

"Red Son, you will never disappoint me for failing something you try your hardest at,” Sandy says simply.

Red Son blinks up at him, not sure how to react to that. How could he not be disappointed? It should be simple.

As if reading his thoughts Sandy continues. "It's difficult to go against how you've learned to behave for your entire life. Anger is a natural reaction. It's okay to slip up every once in a while."

"R-really?"

"Of course!” Sandy puts a hand to his heart. “I thank you for defending me. That makes me happy that you'd do such a thing. But the point is that you try, and I'm very proud of you for that."

Red Son's heart beats heavily. He shudders slightly, and an unexpected wetness gathers around his eyes. He's not sure if it's the sudden weight that feels like it's been lifted off his shoulders, the lightheadedness he’s experiencing after the confrontation, or the fact that Sandy had to listen to that man say terrible things about him and Red Son wants that to go away, but something in him causes him to lean forward, arms outstretched. He wraps his arms around Sandy’s center and embraces him in a stiff hug.

Sandy's arms gently envelop him, and Red Son relaxes into them, squeezing a bit tighter himself. It is awkward and stiff, but impossibly warm. He wants to say something but is momentarily speechless, and also a bit embarrassed at the display of affection, so he says nothing for a few more seconds. Finally finding his words he says, in a voice that he's not quite sure why it sounds so thick, "Maybe you should listen to your own advice then."

He feels Sandy stiffen a bit, but neither motion to end the hug, so he says over Red Son's head. "My advice...?" There seems to be a thickness to his voice as well.

"It's okay to slip up every once in a while..." Red Son gives a final, quick squeeze then pulls back. Sandy lets go, but still leaves his hands on Red Son's shoulders. Red Son awkwardly rubs at his nose. "That man was stupid. You try your best." He glances up at Sandy.

His face slowly breaks into an earnest smile, eyes glistening warmly. "Thank you!" He places the hair tie in Red Son’s hands.

Red Son curls his fingers around the hair tie and gives a small smile back.

Suddenly the glisten in Sandy's eye turns into a mischievous twinkle. "Yes, thank you... Son!"

Red Son's face turns hot again, though this time not from anger. "Red Son. RED Son!"

"Well ‘Son’ is part of your name..."

"I didn't mean to call you .. that."

"Call me what, Red SON?" Sandy elbows his side playfully.

"Ugh!! Shut up! This is what I get for being emotional!" He throws up his arms and walks ahead several steps intent on moving onto the next store quickly.

Sandy follows, his booming laughter echoing in the streets.

He dares not show it, but the corner of Red Son's mouth twitches in a smile, and he's glad that Sandy once again is happy. And he’s further grateful that for the rest of the day, Sandy’s shoulders seem less hunched, and his voice and gestures are once again loud and boisterous and full of life.

start || <– previous // next –>

[legendofmorons]

How to get adopted in ten steps (or less)! Part 2

Pairing: platonic Myrah (OC) &Chain

Rating: G

Summary: Myrah takes the time to share about her past with the boys- Wind asks about the actual calamity and realizes how many wounds are still healing.

Warnings: Some grief

Other: Let me know if I missed anything

-------

Breakfast is a small affair, the cahin being dropped off at Myrah's while Twilight and Wild head off to collect more food supplies.

The boys find themselves asking about the past of the land- history if you will.

"What about the great sea?" Wind asks, helping Myrah water her garden.

"I don't know much about that, but they say a hero came out and saved it. It's not well recorded - nothing is. But I've always figured they meant the sea that lurlein touches."

"There's a sea?" Warriors asks, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, lot of good fish that way."

"And what about the war across ages?" Warriors asks.

Myrah laughs at that, "I don't know about that. Do you mean Gannon and the hero?"

"No."

"I don't know much about it then. But there might be a story about it in a ruin."

"Huh."

"Tell me, what stories did you grow up hearing?" Time asks.

Myrah looks up, still kneeling in her garden. She looks so calm.

"Well... I remember hearing stories about heroes, probably about you guys. There was a hero from a sea that spread most of Hyrule. I also heard about a hero of twilight when I was young. They said he was a shifter. There was also a story about a hero who had healing magic."

Several people gasp, surprised by that.

"I always figured the stories had some truth- but I also figured they got fucked up by time."

"Any other stories?"

"My family always told me about a boy who eared entrance to gerudo town. Something about proving himself. They say the boy earned our respect."

"Yeah?" Time asks.

"Yeah."

"So... tell us what growing up was like for you?" Sky asks. Always interested in how things changed.

Myrah laughs softly, "It was- crazy."

"Was it?"

"Yeah, between me, my cousin, Mipha, and Link- it was a lot."

"Was he always wild?"

"We were wild children. I remember him teaching me how to make a grass whistle... And he loved Gordon spice so mich- his mom had to hide it."

"I wish we could hide it." Legend huffs.

"Oh- it's easy to hide." Myrah says as if she's dome it before. More than once.

"How do you even know that?" Sky asks, sounding exhausted at the thought.

"I was- a very petty child." She says with a shrug, "And then April fools was always fun. But that's not worth telling really."

"And what is?" Wind asks, fishing for dirt on Wild.

Myrah laughs, shaking her head.

She stands, brushing her hands on her dirt stained pants.

"You know he and my niece are an awful duo. Just too many seal jokes."

"Too many what?" Hyrule asks.

"Seal jokes. I swear if I'd known what introducing them would bring upon me I'd have just wrestled Vah Naboris to the ground myself."

"Vah na-hwat now?" Sky asks.

"Vah naboris, the divine beast piloted by my aunt. Also known as the lightning cameo of fucking death."

"You must really hate that thing."

"I do. But that's for a different day. One if you had asked earlier about the moon?"

Wind grins, "Yeah do you like the moon?"

"Fuck no." Myrah says with disdain second only to Time's. "That botch revives the monsters every week or so!"

"Why do you all hate the moon?" Legend asks, "It lights the night."

"So dies fire. And fire dosen’t resurrection lynels." Myrah says firmly, "I'd fist fight the moon but I don't think I'd win."

"You wouldn't." Time says evenly.

"So- you hate the moon, you hate Vah whatever, what fo you like?" Four asks.

"Hm- cooking, gardening, sparring, teaching. Normal things. I love exploring. "

"Sparting?" Twilight asks.

"Yeah, it was a bonding then growing up. My dad loved to soar, and so did Li- so did James. So I'd spar dad and uncle James and Wild."

"Uncle James? Was that Wild's dad?" Wind asks.

"Yes. But he died a long time ago."

"Oh."

"He would have liked you though, you're a lot like someone I used to knkw."

"That can probably said about any of us." Warriors says evenly.

Myrah just laughs, her eyes bright. "They're back."

"What?"

Wild shoots forwards, launching himself at Myrah only to be caught with a louder laugh from the woman.

Twilight trails behind Wild, shaking his head.

"They're back." She says, "You couldn't hear?"

"No."

"I got some hearty bass do you have the radishes?" Wild asks.

"Yes."

"I'm gonna go grab them." Wild says before detaching and going into Myrah's house.

"He got fish?" Time asks, eying the exhausted looking Twilight.

"He used bombs."

"Again?" Myrah asks, "I told him whistling worked better."

"Oh Goddess." Sky says, setting his face in his hands.

"What?" Myrah asks, sounding genuinely confused but her eyes give her away.

"You're why he's such a menace. Aren't you?" Legend accuses.

"I just encourage him."

"You're the reason I never sleep." Legend says again.

Myrah laughs, warm and pleased. Her head falls back a little. "I only taught him what he wished to learn."

"Ypu sound like ypur super old sometimes. Anyone ever tell ypu that?" Wind asks.

"I am old for a Hylian." Myrah says with a soft smile, "And yet I am not the oldest of my lifespan."

"What does that even mean?"

"Oh just wait until you meet Purah. She's older than I am."

"Should she have guests?" Warriors asks, sounding concerned.

"Oh she's fine. She's physically like- ten now."

"But-"

"Physical age lost it's meaning years ago." Myrah says matter-of-factly.

"Huh."

"Are you older than Time?"

"Physically? No."

"Mentally?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. That's for him to know." Myrah says with a smile, "What does it even matter?"

"Just thinking. "

"That's dangerous." She laughs again, "Don't think too hard."

.......

Wind is helping Myrah with the laundry of the group when he really understood just how old she is and what it's done to her.

"Did you lose many people in the calamity?" He asks, curious.

Myrah turns towards him, her golden eyes dull as she says a simple word. "Yes."

"Oh..."

She smiles something bitter as she continues. Her voice empty but strong all at once. "There were too many deaths that night to count. We tried to anyways... It was easier to count those left alive."

"What- was it like?"

"The monsters wouldn't die. Malice seemed to run through their very blood.... I remember- I think the shadows moved that night, but with the adrenalin I'm sure I was just seeing things."

"That sounds awful... Where were you when it happened?"

"The castle, training with other knights- Captain Troy had been running stamina drills all day... Then the calamity hit and we all ran to keep the monsters away until Zelda and Link got there."

"But they didn't. "

"I woke up in Link's bed to his remaining family three days later. There's only so much I recall."

"His bed?"

"Yeah. I remember crying in it after I was told what happened. I- was one of the only three to survive the swine that night."

"Sorry... I probably shouldn't have asked..."

"It's okay. I'm not upset."

"What about Wild's family, you said some of them lived."

Myrah smiles, softer this time. More genuine. "Yeah... They died of old age about twenty seven years ago or so. Math is a little hard."

"Myrah, how did you stay so okay?"

"I didn't. But I learned from Impa better coping. And I found reasons to love that weren't just revenge."

"Do you think they'd like who Wild turned into?"

"Yes and no. Our families would be so proud. My ex would still dislike him."

"You're ex?"

"Revali- the rito champion. He never got along with Wild. But my Avanta- she has always thought Link brave."

"Huh."

"Aryll would be so glad that he has taken to traveling."

"Aryll?" Wind echoes, confused.

"My adopted sister." Myrah says.

"My sister is named Aryll."

"That's crazy! Maybe your sister reincarnated?"

"Maybe."

"What's your hyrule like? I'm sure it's very different. "

"It's a huge ocean!"

[aroace-number-eight]

Fuck it, answering them all because I really want to

1. Art programs you have but don't use

I have Pencil2D which I should use but never bothered to learn

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)

I can draw any of the above, but facing left has been my default

3. What ideas come from when you were little

I was really obsessed with Shyguys

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

Characters interacting SUCKS but I love drawing it and want to immediately be better at it please and thank you

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

I used to post nearly everything that I drew online. Only recently did I start keeping art for myself. So I'd say 80% of my work is out there

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously (i.e. this horse wasn't supposed to look like the Last Unicorn but I see it)

If I had to guess it'd probably be Danganronpa, though truthfully I can't imagine what subconsciously inspired me

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

I really enjoy pancake art! It's one of my favorites

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in

I wanted to do a FoT Five versus Nine animatic to the song "You're Gonna Go Far Kid" by The Offspring. It was already too complicated for me and it's been 6 years since so I dropped it

9. What are your file name conventions

I name based on what the drawing is supposed to be, so in case I forget what I'm drawing, I have the file name reminding me what it is (they can get very long and descriptive)

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

None lol, I forgot how to draw clothes

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

I usually don't, but on some occasions I listen to anything and everything

12. Easiest part of body to draw

Head

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn't your thing

Franticframes on Instagram!

14. Any favorite motifs

Anything to do with death, angels, fire, betrayal, anger, grief, sleep, flowers, and longtime friendships

15. *Where* do you draw (don't drop your ip address this just means do you doodle at a park or smth)

My desk

16. Something you are good at but don't really have fun doing

Line art probably? I have mixed feelings on how it looks in a lot of my art but I can get it done and I know how to make it work

17. Do you eat/drink when drawing? if so, what

No

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you've broken

Probably all the watercolor brushes I used growing up ahaha, I'd say 10% of all the tools I've used

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

Chairs are easy. I don't usually draw them correctly but they're easy aahah

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy

I'm not caught up on what people say are hard to draw, almost everything is hard for me to draw (<- is a non-practicing artist on the regular)

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

I really enjoy anime art in how detailed they get

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any

I just stretch my hands and wrists

23. Do you use different layer modes

No

24. Do your references include stock images

Frequently yes

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

I don't think my art has been compared to anything :/

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended

The goth Marina ref sheet I posted has like.. A BUNCH of different interpretations I never intended or thought of. I just wanted to draw a ship in the goth wife doing a ritual meme and Marina felt the most inclined to be goth to me

27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff? If so, what is it you draw to warm up with

I found that warm ups end up sapping my energy, so I only do them if I don't plan on doing any big pieces for the day. Just wanna get my drawing exercises in

28. Any art events you have participated in the past (like zines)

Multiple inktober variations and a couple art telephones! I wanna do stuff like Art Fight and zines and big bangs, but I haven't had the energy for them somehow

29. Media you love, but doesn't inspire you artistically

The Owl House probably?

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

I SPENT 6 HOURS ON MY ELDER PITTACUS LORE ART AND MADE THREE VERSIONS OF IT PLEASE LOOK AT MY SLUTTY MAN I USED REFERENCES FOR

Weirdly Specific Artist Ask Game

Didn't see a lot of artist ask games, wanted to make a silly one.

(I wrote this while sick out of my mind last year and it's been collecting dust in my drafts, I might as well let it run free) 1. Art programs you have but don't use

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)

3. What ideas come from when you were little

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously (i.e. this horse wasn't supposed to look like the Last Unicorn but I see it)

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in

9. What are your file name conventions

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

12. Easiest part of body to draw

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn't your thing

14. Any favorite motifs

15. *Where* do you draw (don't drop your ip address this just means do you doodle at a park or smth)

16. Something you are good at but don't really have fun doing

17. Do you eat/drink when drawing? if so, what

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you've broken

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any

23. Do you use different layer modes

24. Do your references include stock images

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended

27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff? If so, what is it you draw to warm up with

28. Any art events you have participated in the past (like zines)

29. Media you love, but doesn't inspire you artistically

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated