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saturatedboy · 3 years

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The paw of a Lion (Ethan!Winters x Karl!Heisenberg)

(Can be found on my AO3) Requests- Open

Chapter 5 is under the cut

The quiet babbling of the child was concealed by an aeroplane noise being broadcasted from the adult’s mouth. “Here comes the aeroplane,” Ethan had interpreted making an engine noise before moving the green plastic spoon with Rose’s favourite food around in front of her giggling face. Rose, following the movements of the spoon,

had opened her mouth wide in excitement, giggling when Ethan had placed the spoon into her mouth and watched as she clamped her mouth closed around it. Being careful, he slipped the spoon out of her mouth before grabbing a dirtied tissue beside him to dab away any spillage falling out her mouth. The father was silently thankful that his child wasn’t much of a fussy eater, only at the start she was until she realised that ‘hey I’m getting food’ crosses her mind.

Repeating this process whilst making funny faces to make his child laugh, Ethan had glanced at the clock just above the doorway to the hallway to see the time. “Hey Rosemary, how do you feel ‘bout seeing our neighbour. Hmm? You want to- it seems you do with that bright smile of yours.” He discarded the small bottle of baby food into the bin and threw the spoon into the sink before returning to his jumping daughter. Brushing his hand soothingly over her blonde head, he picked her up from under her arms and cradled her into his arms. “Time to get changed.” He spoke more to himself than his intrigued daughter as she stared up at him with her eyes filled with curiosity.

Heading up the stairs, Ethan took the time to think about the actions of the day. He had his tests done, as well as his daughter’s. Next thing he had spoken to two of his neighbours, one refusing to give up on thanking him and the other being quite quiet yet showing her gratitude through her doll. He even got her name which he will try his best to remember since he hadn’t got a clue when there next meeting will be. Then things went slightly downhill but at soon rose when he had been pushed into Heisenberg’s shenanigans. Who knew the Lord was suffering from some memories- maybe he shouldn’t be so harsh on him? He still functions like a human, just has some ‘upgrades’ to him. But, don’t they all.

Pushing open the door to his room, Ethan laid his daughter down on the double bed within his room and moved towards the set of drawers that held a television. Luckily, he was allowed signal to television programmes (even though there were only 2 he was allowed to reach). A sudden image of Lady Dimitrescu watching the child programme crossed his mind, letting him push out a dry chuckle. “I should maybe go see them soon. Maybe the daughters would like to play with Rose?” Looking back at his daughter seeing her move the fabric under her fingers drew a loving smile from the father. “Yeah, they’ll be curious about you alright.” Dragging out a plain white shirt from his drawers, Ethan threw his blue one off and replaced the white one onto his body. Fastening the buttons, he looked over at the body mirror that stood by his wardrobe on the other side of the room near the door to the bathroom and hummed. “Rosemary, talk for tie or stay silent for no tie.” The child looked at her talkative father and clapped, babbling words in her on language. Ethan took the sign and walked back over to the drawer, rummaging through the top ones for a black and blue tie. Taking the black one, he wrapped it around his neck and left it hanging untied.

Dropping down, he opened the bottom drawers to bring a pair of dark grey pants out and a black belt out. “Be right back Rosemary,” Ethan had walked towards the bathroom and left the door open slightly so he could still hear his daughter. He was quick to swap pants, walking out the bathroom whilst buckling his belt up through the pants loops and starting on his tie. Having her father walking around a lot had the baby giggling. Shooting Rose a funny face with his tongue stuck out, Ethan watches her roll about of the bed with her eyes lighting up from the sun glistening through the window. “I look like I’m about to go on a date,” He gave himself one last look in the body mirror before returning back to his daughter, gently picking her up as he let her fiddle with his tie.

His last sentence had been jumbling in his mind as he ascended down his steps to grab his shoes. A date? No no, this wasn’t a date. Just a get together as an apology. That’s it! An apology meal made by Heisenberg and himself. With Rosemary. Like a famil-

A sudden tightness wrapped around his throat as Rose pulled on his tie hard. A small choking noise came out from him as his face scrunched up. With his eyes going slightly wide in pain and shock, he helped his daughter release the tie from her tough grasp and placed her on the ground as he scanned over his shoe choices. Going in simple trainers wouldn’t do- it would look weird with his outfit. But going in smart shoes, that’s what you would wear on a date and this was NOT a date. Taking his trainers, Ethan tied the laces into sloppy bows and picked up Rosemary after, being wary of her grabby hands.

Looking himself up and down then looking at his pride and joy, something seemed off. Missing. “Urgh don’t do this brain. Now what’s missing?” Looking between the two, Ethan felt Rose once again grab his tie. “You’re so grabby today, what’s going on, oh. Right.” Priding her hands off him once again, Ethan made his way to the lounge room and looked at the couch. There was a stuff monkey there sitting next to the television remote. “Ah ha! Do you want him? yeah you do. That’s why you’ve been grabbing papa the whole time.” Ethan progressed onto the stuff animal and grabbed it by its body, handing it to his little Rose who was about to reach for his tie again. Seeing her favourite teddy dangling in front of her face, she had her hands reaching out for it and her mind went completely away from the strange material that she was once holding before. A sense of relief washed over the blonde before handing it to her, seeing her face light up with enjoyment. “Time to head to a meal now. Hopefully it doesn’t turn out wrong” He kissed the top of her head and walked out the room into the hallway once again.

It had been two days since getting back to a somewhat normal life. To think these were the entities he was once trying to kill, them doing the same Vise-versa all because of Mother Miranda. “She’s dead,” A whisper came from him as he approached the door handle to the outside world. “We are out from there.” Twisting the metal knob, the sudden darkness of the outside world was glazing his eyes. Dark clouds swarmed the sky, the sun setting behind them fearing the uprising moon and their army of stars. Looking around as the door shut behind the males, he walked off his porch. The crisp cold swept over his body, making him slightly regret not bringing a jacket with him. However, that didn't matter, his daughter was luckily wrapped up in a long shirt and a really woolly jumper gifted from her mother. She was settled all in warmth.

Taking the left on the dirt road, he followed it around the circle going clock-wise. The house of Heisenberg had gradually grown larger in size as he gained closeness upon it. An unsettling feeling set into Ethan’s stomach as he remembered seeing the boarded-up windows- which were still boarded up at the time. The garage next to it seemed to be closed although the smell of car petrol did not go unnoticed. Holding his daughter closer to himself in one arm, Ethan stepped up to the two floored house and walked straight to the door. Looking to see if his daughter was uncomfortable, which she wasn’t luckily, he raised a first and knocked against the spruce door with a small horse engraving on it. ‘Huh, strange’ Ethan thought, letting his fingers trail over in engraving after knocking three times. ‘How strange, I have a lion engraving on mine.’-

His thoughts and finger trailing were pulled away from the door as it had swung open, revealing the scuffed-up host of the dinner wearing a tank top that had turned grey with splotches of grime and rust. He had a sizzling cigar in his mouth and an annoyed expression on his face for all eyes to see because of the lack of a hat and shades he would usually wear. Soon however, from not seeing his ‘sisters’ dress, he took a step back and tried to wrap his head around what he was seeing. “Erm,” Heisenberg was the first to make a sound. He took a quick look at Ethan, seeing as his white shit he wore nestled nicely against his forearms and his pants highlighted his legs and calf muscles. “T-Totally didn’t...forget?” The cigar that was hanging in his mouth had dropped onto the floor, seeing the other dressed in a formality way.

Biting his lower lip straining a smile, Ethan had struggled to hold in his laughter as he watched the others eyes move about to not stare directly at him. Hunching over being wary of Rose, Ethan let his laughter loose feeling excitement bubble up in his stomach. “You kno-haha. You know,” He spoke, finding it harder to keep his laughter contain to sensible giggle, “I wouldn’t have expected this.” He made a motion with his free arm, the arm moving up and down as though he was presenting Heisenberg to his daughter.

Feeling embarrassed at the given situation, Heisenberg went to protest. “Well- it was shot notice, okay? I’ve been busy and today has been long.” The Ex-Lord defended, biting the inside of his cheek as he glared at the father who had finally loosen his laugh to a soft chuckle. Nodding, not trusting his mouth anymore, Ethan silently agreed at what the Lord was getting at.

“Yes. Yes. You’re quite right. However, it was you who asked for me to come over.” A sigh left Karl’s lips; his shoulders deflated as though a bubble of tense had just been popped within his blades.

“Alright, c’mon. Come in- I need to go wash up.” Moving to the side, Karl let Ethan in along with his little Rose looking around at her new surroundings. From what Ethan could tell as he heard Karl shut the door behind him, the place was rather fitting for Karl’s aesthetic. Unlike his, Karl’s first floor was fully open. However, it seemed the structure was the same, just without the walls. The floor was made from spruce wood, with the four walls being painted in a forest green. He had a love seat along with a couple of arm chairs that surrounded a coffee table with a television in front. Ethan guessed Karl had no idea how to use his television seemingly there was ‘CAUTION’ tape wrapped around it. Pinned on the walls however, there were many tapestries, all different colours and images printed on them. He was surprised he couldn't smell any sort of chemicals in the air, meaning the shorter one was most likely spending all his time in the garage rather than the actual home itself.

“Your place is surprisingly comforting.” Ethan had turned to only just see Karl walking up the steps to the second floor. With a shrug, Karl leaned over the handrail.

“Eh? Tis alright I suppose. Much prefer my factory but it is what it is. Be down in a few.” He called before ascending up the stairs leaving Rose with his little Rose to scout around the room. It was a comfortable temperature, not to cold, not to warm. Being careful, Ethan placed Rose on the floor seeing that there weren’t any hazards about and let her crawl on her hands and knees.

“One day you’ll start walking and I’m going to lose you,” Ethan spoke, watching his daughter fondly as she took off in a sprint crawl away from her father. “Hey, where are you going,” He called out, chasing her as she wondered about thinking her father was chasing her because they were playing a game.

Up on the second floor, Heisenberg had entered the shower fully striped. Letting the water run down his body, he leaned against the wall pointing his head down. “Fuck,” He whispered, dragging a hand down his face. He felt like a complete douche for letting the night slip his mind. Here he was, with Ethan fucking Winters downstairs, as well as his daughter with him. Karl wasn’t even ready for this, everything felt like it was moving too quickly- “What am I thinking,” He breathed out heavily.

Ethan wasn’t his- they couldn’t be moving too quickly with anything. They weren't dating, and that thought hit Karl like a compressor. Grabbing the shampoo, he squirted it into his palm and lathered it up in his palm before scrubbing his scalp hard with it. A soft groan was released from his throat as he hit a certain spot with his fingers coming tangled in the knot of his hair. Pulling hard, a soft pant of a moan left his lips, forcing him to lean back up and crane his neck back. He felt exposed to the cold air, before untangling his fingers from his mess of a hair and tilting his head back under the running water to get rid of the shampoo quickly. He didn’t want to leave Ethan waiting too long.

Going against the idea of using conditioner, He grabbed the body wash after squeezed it into his hands. Throwing the bottle down, he ran his hands over his body harshly. The feeling of his thick hands running over his own chest down to his happy tail had no right t be as exciting as it was. He didn’t understand, was it because Ethan was downstairs? Did he want Ethan to catch him like this? Impurity thoughts channelled through his mind, leaving him in a panting mess. A sudden grasp came to his dick below, making him second guess his fantasies flashing through his mind. Looking down, he saw his hand grasping his dick, the hand moving down to reveal the flushed red head begging for attention. He was uncut, both at the top of his dick and around his lower regions. He didn’t have time to shave, or even find a doctor to circumcise himself. Why should he? He didn’t have a reason to.

Letting go, he watched the skin cover the needy head before going back to washing his body. This was not the time to be getting hard whilst his main guest was downstairs with his little one for the matter. Maybe at a later stage he would do the unimaginable when alone but not when he had guests. Karl knew better than to go ahead and jerk himself off whilst people were about, he learnt that the hard way when being caught by one of his Soldats in the past. Scary time. Ones he prefers to not remember.

Making sure his whole body was clean, he rinsed off the bubbles and turned the shower off. The coldness of his home hit him; he wasn’t use to the temperature just yet. His factory had always been boiling, he loved the feeling of the heat trapping him. He missed the place already- it hadn’t even been 3 days since he last saw it. Wrapping a towel securely around his waist, he left his bathroom not bothering to pick up the dirty clothing he had worn previously and walked towards his bedroom that was very clean. He hadn’t slept there; no he was too busy in the garage part of his hoe. The place was somewhat a safe space already- he felt a little at home there. His bed was untouched, the floor being free of any dirty clothing. Looking about, he walked towards his drawers and opened them up to see a collection of shirts and pants. Grabbing the first things he saw; he unwrapped his towel and let it drop. He didn’t really think much about drying his body fully before pulling the shirt on. It was a brown shirt and dark blue dress pants. Fastening the buttons up on the shirt, he rolled the sleeves to rest just above his elbows and dragged the pants on, finding a bit difficult to pull all the way up. However once up, they fit fine upon his waist. The feeling of wearing something much different to his usual attire was- awkward. He felt like he was about to go to Lady Dimitrescu wedding or something, although he would go in the most unkempt clothing to annoy her. But he had to, he saw how Ethan was dressed. He was well kept, nothing like Karl. Ethan was just-

Ethan was the most perfect creation ever to be created.

“You’re going to look hot for Ethan,” The encouraging words to himself helped him a little to feel safer in the clothing he chosen. He just wouldn’t expect to ever be dressed like this but here he was, prancing around his room thinking about the possibilities that could happen in the next couple of hours. Downstairs he could hear the laughter of Ethan once again accompanied by Rose’s happy cries.

“Huh, this feels like a family moment,” He chuckled to himself as he began to walk away from the bedroom. To hear noise filling the place that wasn’t the dead, but rather people who were alive- this was the closest Karl had ever felt to be a part of a family. The word brought a strained smile to his face. A family. Him and Ethan, and with the little brat to be a family. “Bad Heisenberg, no thinking about shit like that,” He scolded himself before descending this time down the stairs to overlook at Ethan on his knees who were making what seemed to be a toy in his hands, dance for his daughter. “Seem to be enjoying yourself there Ethan,” He spoke, rounding off at the end of the stairs to walk towards the father and daughter who were in the middle of the whole room.

Ethan gave Rose the toy and stood back up, dusting dust off his pants. “And you seem to be having fun dressing up for me, is it?” The teasing tone in his voice did not go unnoticed by the former Lord, a smirk rising onto his features. A deadly glare casting through directed towards the father.

“I could say the same for you darlin’. Even went with a tie. how cute.”

“Alright mister, you got me there. So, what you thinking about cooking good looking?”

“Well, I was- w-what?” The rhyme from Ethan’s words had made Heisenberg feel warm. A fluttering feeling casted over his whole body as he stood in front of Ethan, little Rose between both of their feet. Although he was sure Ethan was just teasing, his words felt real to hear.

“I didn’t say anything, so what we doing,” the words fell quickly from Ethan’s throat, an embarrassed look invading his face as he crossed his arms and tried to give a smug smile to play his words off.

“Yeahhhh, sureee.” Heisenberg watched the pale skin of Ethan's become influenced by a red shade, his nose slightly flaring. Grabbing hold of his shoulder, Heisenberg turned Ethan around and walked towards where the open kitchen was, being careful to not trip over the baby on the floor. ”So if I’m good lookin’, what does that make you buttercup?”

Ethan shook his head disapprovingly, looking at Karl with a raised brow. “It slipped out; nothing was meant by it.”

“Oh, but sweetheart, did it really though~”

“What are we cooking Karl?” Ethan had pretended to not hear any of the nicknames that came from his host- he didn’t want to show any reaction towards them no matter how much a daring grin wanted to be stretched onto his lips. He had to remind himself he only just divorced his ex-wife. He didn’t want to date and neither did he want to feel any sort of attraction towards his own former killers...but was Karl really a former killer- he did try to help him? That was for another time.

“You’ll come aroun’ one day. I don’t know what to make.” Karl leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Ethan’s facial features change every second, clearly not knowing what emotion he should really be showing at his words. ”You what?” He choked out, sticking with a dumbfounded look.

Karl threw his hands up in surrender. “I don’t know how to cook. I lived of cans Ethan, and coffee. It was either cans, or Duke for me.”

The air between them both became unknowingly colder. Ethan had to give himself a few moments to think. He did feel bad at what Karl just told him, to be living off a one-way ticket for meals or risk getting ill. The man in front of him really didn’t know anything about the outside world. “Okay, luckily I do know how to make food.”

“Like a house wife.” Karl piped up, running a hand threw his wet hair as it dripped water upon his shoulders wearing that sharp grin of his.

“I’m not a house wife Heisenberg.” Ethan began to search through the small fridge that was under one of the few counters in Karl’s kitchen. Looking through, he began to make a mental note to get the Lord to join him on a shopping trip to get food. Clearly the agents had spent more money on building fancy places rather than getting things for survival.

“Damn, back to last names huh? I must really be in trouble with you mister.” Suddenly, a flying tomato came flying at him and hit him in his head. “hey! That was uncalled for.” He spoke just barely managing to catch the vegetable as it bounced off his head. In return, Ethan shrugged and continued to rummaged through his fridge picking out certain items. Karl stood and watched, not complaining about the side view he was getting of Ethan down on his knees-

“Where do you keep your spices?” He asked a she stood back up, shutting the fridge with his foot and looking back to quickly check on Rose.

“Cupboard above you.” Karl answered back, also looking at the baby who was smashing the toy monkey onto the floor. Karl had to sniffle his laughter back, slightly proud of the baby’s destruction.

With a quick bang of the cupboard, Ethan had pushed all the items he got out towards Karl. Leaving them by the shorter one, he went to o wash his hands in the sink. “Karl, can you grab a baking tray, grater and rolling pin” Ethan asked as he wiped his hands down on a towel.

“Ethan, have you forgot I don’t cook?”

“Rolling pin looking like a cylinder, grater looks like-” Karl had begun to laugh at Ethan reciting and describing what kitchen equipment looks like. Banging a closed fist onto his chest, Karl swept stray hairs from out of his face.

“Ethan I’m joking.” Before Ethan could even get annoyed at Karl, Karl had already started to move about the area with a happy jump in his step, glad that Ethan was slightly annoyed at his actions. He loved getting a rise out of the other, it just added on the things he loved-

Loved...yeah. He was in love with Ethan. He wasn’t going to complain against that.

“So, what we making papa?” Heisenberg asked, looking at the ingredients all laid out by all the cutlery he was sent on a quest to gather.

“We are making pizza.” Ethan answered back, already starting on making the pizza sauce from scratch.

“Pizza huh?” Karl ponded out loud, watching as Ethan began to use the grater and great cheese.

“Yes. You can start rolling out the pastry if you want. Grab the rolling pin and use the flour to make sure the pastry doesn’t stick to the counter top.” Giving a playful salute to Ethan, who rolled his eyes out and gave a soft kick to the others leg, Karl stood by Ethan and sprinkled flour on top of the counter. Clapping his hands by Ethan to watch the flour dust go poof in his face, Karl was already moving onto laying out the pastry from its packet on top of the flour.

He was given a sharp pain on his ear as he looked quickly at his attacker with furrowed brows. Ethan had flicked the man on his ear shell and stuck his tongue out like a child. Karl’s ear had swiftly turned red but it didn’t bother the lord much really, it only made him eager to try tease the other. “Gotta try harder sweetheart,” Karl spoke to him, rolling the pastry out and flipping it every now and again.

“Nah no can do. I can’t hurt you.” Ethan called back, moving the cheese and grated away from him before grabbing the baking tray and laying out parchment paper on it. Karl gave a scoff at Ethan's words, stepping away from the pastry and instead standing behind Ethan. Like a snake, Karl wrapped his arms around Ethan’s torso and stood on his tiptoes to look over Ethan’s shoulder.

“You can’t hurt me~” He whispered in his ear, tightening his grip on the father’s torso. In return, Ethan swallowed a lump in his throat and turned, flicking Karl on his nose. The pinch of pain made Karl recall backwards and rub his nose.

“I think I just did. Oops.” Ethan turned back around and picked up the pastry to lay out on the tray. “Want to grab a spoon?” He called behind him, waiting for a response as he worked on stretching the pastry in the tray.

Thinking for a moment, Karl went back to leaning against the counter with his arms crossed right bedside Ethan. “What’s in it for me?” He asked, as he simpered looking pleased with himself.

A ragged sigh came from Ethan’s mouth as he turned and copied Karl’s actions by leaning against the counter. However, he didn’t cross his arms. “How about, you get me the spoon and you’ll get a reward.”

“What is this...reward?” Karl leaned to the side, getting closer towards Ethan’s face. The hesitation from the other left plenty of time for Karl to come up with a total of 6 different ways he could be rewarded for getting cutlery- and none was safe for Rose to hear.

Wetting his lips, Ethan smacked his lips together before speaking slowly and a notch deeper than his usual tone. “The reward will be...a day shopping with me.” And all previous ideas flew out of his head. Karl pulled away from Ethan and pouted.

“That sounds shit.” He spoke, becoming grumpy over the fact of shopping. He had seen Villagers do it in the past, buying things. It just looked, none eventful.

“That’s not all.” Ethan held back a grin as he watched Karl become curious again. “I’ll let you hold my hand the whole day.”

“DEAL!” Ethan watched as Karl sprinted off to a drawer and opened it up, grabbing a large spoon and skipping back to Ethan with it in his hand proudly. “Better keep to your side of the deal now papa. Don’t you be forgetting it.”

“I won't forget- I don’t even think you would let me especially with the way you just acted.” Just to hopefully annoy the Lord, Ethan got him in a headlock and with his knuckled, rubbed them against the top of Karl’s head watching him squirm in his grasp.

“Oh C’MON!” He shouted, pushing out of Ethan’s grip and showing him away. Ethan finally let loose of is laugh and grabbed the counter for support. The sight of Ethan being happy made Karl soft. It was a fuzzy feeling with him. ‘Butterflies...that’s what this is’ he thought trying his best to sketch the view into his mind forever.

“Okay! okay,” Ethan wheezed out, “Back to making the pizza.”

#Karl Heisenberg #karlheisenberg #karl hesienberg #ethan x karl #Lord Karl Heisenberg #ethan winters #ethan x heisenberg #karl heisenberg x ethan winters #resident evil 8 #winters x heisenberg

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miriamdesign · 2 years

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Illustrator Character Tutorial

Reflect tool

joining anchor points

smart guides

broken handles

path finder tool to create 3d shapes from 2d shapes, and shading

Penguin (bought to in workbook form today by accesable recorded online tutorials and incredbile PRJ file saving of past Miriam. Woo!)

1. with eclipse tool selected, hold down SHIFT and draw a cirlce.

2. with select tool A selected, draw a rectangle over the lower section of your circle and hit CTRL/CMMND X to cut this section, and CTRL/CMMND V to paste it

Turn on smart guides by hitting CTRL/CMMND U this will help you easily align your half circles with each other.

now turn off smart guides again.

To select to end points together we can use two methods. 1. is to use A selection tool and draw a box 2. is to click one anchor point, hold SHIFT and click the other

Once selected, press CTRL/CMMND J and that will join them together.

DO this on both sides.

Press + which is your add anchor point tool and add a new anchor point onto the bottom right curve. With A selection tool, we can click and drag this new anchor point out to begin our tail.

Next we are going to ajust the anchor points and their handles to get a nice shape.

Select end anchor point to show handles. With the upper handle selected, hold down SHIFT to help move it to a perfectly verticle poisition, and snap that handle into the anchor point so that there is only a lower handle left.

Now clean up our curves by adjusting anchor point positions and handle lengths whilst holding down SHIFT (so that we stick to a verticle or horizontal direction)

From this

To this

Holding down SHIFT and C to use the anchor point tool we can add the top handle back into the tail end. This time instead of snapping it into the anchor point we will hold down OPTION/ALT (after first clicking V and tapping anywhere, and then A to select the anchor) and bring the handle down to a 90 degree angle to the lower one.

Add in three more anchor points using + tool onto the top right curve of your shape

V select and click anywhere, A select the middle of the three new anchor points and drag it out. THen holding OPTION/ALT you can ajust the handles on that, and the surrounding two anchor points to get this shape:

Back dwon on the tail, add in three more anchor points and drag out the middle one like so:

using OPTION/ALT to break handles, we can turn our end curves into points.

Adjust handles untill you hjave a nice shape. (In this case I ended up taking out the top added anchor point that i put in, and adjusting the handle on the original placed anchor that was above it to create the curve I wanted.

It’s best to take out any redundant anchor points.)

Now we have a slightly penguinish outline

SHIFT X swaps the fill and the stroke colours around (no stroke and black fill)

Draw a beak with the pen tool

Draw an eye with the eclipse tool.

if you hold SPACE while dragging out your eclipse tool, you can reposition your circle before you commit to placing it down.

Hold down OPTION/ALT and click and drag the eye to make a duplicate. Let go of your click first.

Now for the foot.

Just like you did in sdtep one, create an eclipse, (this time with a stroke and no fill) ,

A select the bottom half, CTRL/CMMND X cut, and CTRL/CMMND V paste

CMMND/CTRL U to turn on smart guides and allighn, select both ends and join like before also:

Drag her down. Now she’s a leg

Click and drag Pen tool holding down SHIFT to create handles, and draw this shape, making sure you have your smart guides on so that your first and last anchor point are runniong the same horizontal

ajust if you want..

V select, and click O for reflect tool. click once in the bottom left anchor point to place the reflect guide (thats the little blue guy bellow)

Holding down OPTION/ALT tap once on the anchor point on the other side and this will duplicate and reflectso you have a whole foot. Now it’ll be fairly obvious if your shape is shit.

With A select tool, highlight and join your unjoined anchor points by hitting CMMND/CTRL J

squash its and move over to leg

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yespolkadotkitty · 3 years

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Long Way to Go - Chapter 1

Ryan Brenner x OFC, Grace Lin

THANKYOU so much to @the-blind-assassin-12 for casting an eye over this and for friendship and enthusiasm and thankyou to @suchatinyinfinity and @something-tofightfor for being so friendly!

W/C: 1550 ~ Warnings: None? General audiences.

-----

It was hot as hell.

Sweat trickled down the back of my neck as I checked the thermometer in the pastry display case. Melted cream cakes didn’t sell, and I had to keep the served-cold meat bao from spoiling, but at least the fortune cookies, red bean cakes and mochi would be good for hours.

People bustled past, some holding mini electric fans, others cooling themselves with tall iced drinks from the nearby Starbucks.

I took a deep drink from my water bottle. I’d topped up the ice cubes just ten minutes ago and they were already just a memory.

The two girls I employed cleaned tables, their hair scooped up out of their faces, chattering about some party they were off to later, and which popular boys would be attending. Their giggling made me feel every one of my thirty-two years.

The overhead fan whirled silently as the bell above the door tinkled musically, letting in a gaggle of teenagers. They kept me busy for the next few minutes, ordering a bunch of fortune cookies and bao, barely looking up from their phones as they paid me.

As one of the teenagers pulled the shop door open, a gasp of music broke my train of thought (mango or green tea cookies tomorrow?). Curious, I peered out of the window.

On the street corner, sitting against the trunk of a large tree planted in the sidewalk, a man played guitar and sang.

His head was down, but thick, dark hair peeked out from under his battered hat, the brim shading his face from view.

His voice was deep and melancholy, and it pulled at something inside me. I kept the door open, listening.

Quite a little crowd had gathered around him. His fingers danced over the guitar strings effortlessly, his low, sultry voice carrying to me on what little there was of a breeze in New York in July.

I got lost in the lyrics for a moment, and must have leaned on the door too hard. The bell tinkled and I had to hang on to avoid falling face first on the pavement.

Smooth, Lin. Real smooth.

Without skipping a beat, the busker glanced my way. His eyes were the very dark brown of expensive Swiss chocolate, concern shining in their depths.

I smiled to let him know I was okay, and his gaze moved over me for a moment. I felt every second. His eyes smiled first, and then as he finished the last note in a line, his lips curved, too, a dimple flashing above his scruffy beard, and oh. I was a goner. He was the most beautiful man I’d seen in a long time, and this was NYC, so that was saying something.

“Hey, Earth to Grace! You gonna stand there all day?”

The Brooklyn twang jerked me back to reality and I blinked, looking into the face of my delivery guy. “Sorry, Mikey.”

The bulky Asian-American grinned, casting a thumb at the busker. “He’s all right.”

I tore my gaze away again. “He sure is.”

Mikey wheeled his little hand truck to the storeroom and started to unload as I served a young woman who had questions about allergies. She read my ingredients lists and decided on three pork floss buns, the ones hot from the heated plate. Just going near it made me near-recoil with the steam that bathed my face.

As the customer paid and I thanked her, clipping a business card to the paper bag, I glanced out at the busker. He was drinking from a water bottle, his head tipped back to expose the line of his neck. The bottle was near-empty.

“Hey, Kristi?”

One of the girls I employed stopped mid-chatter to her colleague about someone called Dwayne and how dreamy he looked in a football jersey, and whipped her head round to me.

“Can you man the counter for a sec?”

She bobbed her head yes and we swapped places. I grabbed a bottle of water from the tall fridge by the door, the shaped plastic cold against my palm. I hesitated, then grabbed another.

The wall of heat enveloped me as soon as I stepped out of the door.

The busker looked up at the sound of the bell, shoulders bunching in his worn white t-shirt as I approached, as if steeling himself for something.

The crowd had thinned between songs, people put off from standing by the sheer heat of a New York summer, but the open guitar case held a bundle of notes, some fives and tens, as well as several scatterings of coins.

“Hi,” I greeted him. “Ma’am,” he drawled, softly. His smile seemed easy, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

I suspected that he was wondering if I was gearing up to threaten to call the police on his ass.

I wasn’t.

I held out the bottles of water. “Thought you might be thirsty.”

“Sure am.” He smiled up at me, fingers drumming on his thigh, but he didn’t attempt to take the water. “‘S very kind of you.”

You stepped closer, offering the bottles and he finally took them from me . His hands brushed mine, his skin warm and tan, a little rough. I noticed the unusual ink on his fingers, wanted to ask, but politeness stopped me.

“Your music is beautiful,” I said as he unscrewed the first bottle, the second held between his knees.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He took a deep drink, and I tried not to feel like a letch, admiring the line of his neck, the bob of his Adam’s apple. “‘S a nice bakery you got there.”

“Thanks. I, um, never thought it’d be a thing. You know? When you dream about something for so long and when it finally comes true, you can’t believe it?”

He met my gaze. “Can’t say I know a whole lot about that.”

For the first time, I took in his attire properly - large burlap backpack, battered army-style boots, the laces frayed, the near-threadbare edges of his hat. “God. I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot-”

He shook his head, a shy little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’ be. I like it better when folks don’t have to watch their every word ‘round me. I’m Ryan.”

“I’m Grace. The idiot.” I offered a hand and he shook it, and his palm was wide and warm, a little calloused, and sparks of awareness slid up my arm.

“Do you often play around here?” I gestured to the little stretch of the Chinatown of Flushing, Queens, that my bakery sat on.

“No, ma’am. I’m a traveller. Been t’ New York before, but not this particular spot.”

“And how is this particular spot?”

Ryan drummed his fingers on his guitar thoughtfully. “‘S good. Folk are nice, for the most part.” He started on the second bottle of water, his tongue flicking out to over bottom lip after he drank. “Hot as hell, though, and I say that as a Southern boy.”

I opened my mouth to ask where in the South he hailed from, but Kristi appeared in the doorway of my shop. “Grace? Sorry, Mikey needs the auth code for this delivery.”

“Oh, sure.” I turned back to Ryan. “It was good to meet you. Your music is really fantastic.”

He ducked his head, smiling, a little shy. “Mighty kind of you, ma’am.”

By this point another little crowd had gathered, waiting to hear him sing, and I left them to it. I wished I could have the shop door open to hear him, but that would defeat the point of air conditioning.

But even so, throughout the afternoon, I kept glancing over, seeing him still there, singing. During a busy point I asked Kristi to go and bring him another bottle of water, and I saw the smile he flashed her, feeling jealous of the attention, and called myself utterly ridiculous for it. I hadn’t even known Ryan existed a couple of hours ago.

Customers thinned out. It was a weekday, and business always slowed down around six pm. I shut at seven, so at six-thirty I sent Kristi and Susan home. As they opened the door, I caught a line of song in Ryan’s soft, smooth drawl.

Nine hundred more miles, and I’ll be doin’ just fine-

When he finished, after the small crowd had dropped dollar bills and murmured their appreciation, I called out to him.

“You want to come inside? Have a cold drink? Use the air con?”

I saw the hesitation flick over his face, the trepidation mixed with curiosity, and in the end, the latter must’ve won, because he stood up.

“That’s it for today, ladies and gentlemen,” I heard him say to the people circled around him. A man tossed a couple of bills in his guitar case, and Ryan touched his hat in thanks.

The listeners dispersed, and Ryan settled his guitar in his case like a mother swaddling her baby; with utmost gentleness. And then he looked up, smiling, that dimple winking, and walked towards me.

Taglist: @agirllovespancakes

#ryan brenner x ofc #jackie x ryan fic #jackie x ryan au #ben barnes character fanfiction

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

Hermann preparing for date night with Newt by selecting where to eat solely by what he has a coupon for. Or, ya know, frugal connoisseur Hermann. <3 ksci

inspired by a convo re: the fact that ksci @k-sci-janitor likes to make fun of me for never letting a coupon go to waste even if it means walking like 2 miles in the cold to use it :/ like im gonna NOT get a free Baja blast. (there is one small little allusion to some M rated stuff towards the end in this)

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

It’s not a rare occurrence that Hermann will treat Newt to dinner when the mood of dining out strikes them, but the point is that he’s doing it in a way that’s supremely…shifty tonight. Well, maybe not shifty. Weird? For one thing, he didn’t tell Newt where they were going until they were already on the bus headed there, for another, it’s their sharing-a-lab-anniversary, which tradition dictates they evenly split a bill (even if the origins have more to do with both trying to show up the other and take advantage and order the most expensive shit on the menu). The weirdest thing is definitely that, when Hermann got up to pay the bill five minutes ago—a small, folded piece of paper clutched in his hand—he left his wallet laying next to his wine glass on the table.

Newt stirs his straw around in his cup of soda, clinking ice cubes against the sides, and squints at the wallet. Did Hermann bring cash to pay with? He could’ve stuck some in his pockets without Newt seeing, or his bank card, even, which would explain the forlorn wallet. Or maybe forgetting the wallet was totally an accident, and he’ll be back in a few seconds to pick it up and pay for real when he realizes. That’s probably it.

When Hermann comes back to their table, though, he doesn’t bother with his wallet—he takes his seat, picks up his wine glass, and tips it at Newt. “That was quite lovely, wasn’t it?”

Newt hums. “It was.”

“I quite liked the fish I got,” Hermann says.

“I loved my noodles,” Newt says. “We should try to copy the recipe back at the base.” He sets his straw delicately on the table. “How’d you pay without your wallet?”

“My wallet?” Hermann says. He makes a show of catching sight of the wallet, arches his eyebrows in mock surprise, and picks it up. Here we go. “Oh, goodness. Did I forget this? Well—it’s not as if I needed it…” He tucks it neatly into his inner jacket pocket.

“Hermann,” Newt says, rolling his eyes. “What’d you do, get a hundred-percent discount by reminding them we saved the world a few months ago?” Hermann shakes his head, and takes a long sip of his wine. “Did you write a check? Did you pretend we got food poisoning or something?” Hermann shakes his head again, and this time, his mouth begins to creep up into a smug smile. Newt remembers the piece of paper. “Dude. You got us a fucking Groupon. No wonder you were being so weird about what I was ordering!”

(“I think we ought to stick with the entrees labelled B, Newton,” Hermann had said, flipping a page forward in Newt’s menu. “They look—er—far better.”

“More expensive,” Newt had said.

“What’s it matter? I’m paying.” Hermann had pointed at the noodle dish Newt had ended up getting. “Look, I reckon you’d like that.”)

Hermann finally grins triumphantly. “I did—and saved us quite a decent from our ‘date night’ fund. Pity it didn’t extend to dessert, I suppose, but we could always find some ice cream at the commissary later.”

Newt can’t even pretend to be exasperated. The noodles rocked. And they would’ve rocked even more if he knew that Hermann was saving them a few bucks. “You’re such a weirdo,” Newt says, shaking his head, though he’s mirroring Hermann’s grin. “Is that why you picked this place?”

“Not entirely,” Hermann says. He takes a long, slow sip of his wine. “Mostly I picked it to make a point.”

“About?”

“About my being right.”

Newt sighs. Only Hermann would dredge up old arguments on Lab Anniversary Night. It wasn’t even an argument, really—all that happened was that Hermann asked Newt to hand him his glasses cleaning cloth from his parka, and it took Newt almost ten minutes because Hermann’s pockets were so jam-packed with a million little coupons for everything from granola bars (which they can get from the mess hall for free) to mouthwash (which Newt can snag from the commissary, also for free, whenever they need it) that he couldn’t find anything but. A majority of them were expired. Then Newt remarked on how Hermann was nuts, and Hermann remarked on how Newt didn’t understand the value of making smart financial decisions, and they went back and forth for a bit like that. This was a whole week ago, too. In terms of Newt and Hermann arguments, that’s more than ancient history. “Are we really talking about the fucking coupons now?” Newt says.

“Frugality pays off,” Hermann says, cryptically. “Now we really ought to head out. The forecast is calling for rain, and I don’t fancy getting caught in it.”

They get caught in the rain anyway. Newt invites himself over to Hermann’s bunk to dry off, because Hermann bought a space heater back when they were stationed in Russia, and it travelled with him here to aid through the long nights of overpowering A/C. Right now, it’s aiding Newt through stripping out of his wet clothes. When he’s down to just his boxers, he snags the quilt from Hermann’s bed, and waits for him to finish up in his little en suite bathroom to hopefully catch a hot shower. One of the unexpected side effects of the world not ending and most nonessential personnel leaving the ‘dome in doves is that they almost never run out of hot water anymore. Newt can take a shower at midnight and not freeze his ass off. It’s awesome, really.

Hermann emerges from the bathroom in a dorky little pair of pajamas, a dressing gown knotted at his waist. “Oh, Newton,” he sighs, and prods at Newt’s blanket cocoon with his cane, “not my grandmother’s quilt.”

“I’m dry!” Newt says. “Mostly!”

He gives up the quilt to Hermann and ducks into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He stuck a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet at some point, for when he was too sleepy and lazy after makeout sessions to go back to his bunk, and sure enough he finds it alongside a suspiciously generic-looking tube of toothpaste. It doesn’t even have a label. He doesn’t think much of it until he starts to use it, which is when he immediately gags and begins to rinse his mouth out with hot water. “What the hell is this toothpaste?” he chokes out. “It tastes—awful.”

“Ah,” Hermann says. He ducks his head into the bathroom, looking a bit sheepish. “Well. I found a coupon for that brand, and I know it’s not very, er, pleasant, but—I saved forty percent, Newton.” Newt continues to rinse his mouth out, this time adding some mouthwash into the mix. “Oh, really, now you’re just being dramatic. It’s only toothpaste.”

“Dude,” Newt says. “I feel like I just rubbed, like, acid cement all over my gums.”

“Ah,” Hermann repeats, guiltily.

A bit later, Newt goes in to kiss Hermann goodnight as they settle into Hermann’s bed together, but pulls back with a sad little pout when Hermann merely flinches away from him. “Oh, Newton, I’m sorry,” Hermann says, quickly wrapping his arms around Newt and kissing his neck. It softens the blow somewhat. “It’s that bloody toothpaste. You still smell like it. You’re right, it’s rubbish.”

“Tell you what,” Newt says, grumpily. “I’ll buy you a brand new tube tomorrow. My treat.”

Newt mostly forgets about the coupon thing for a bit. The odd little item crops up in the lab that makes him roll his eyes fondly at Hermann, but nothing as major as the Groupon or toothpaste. Hermann’s preferred tea brand swapped out for something Newt’s never heard of in a flavor that Hermann clearly detests, if his face when he drinks it is anything to go by, for example, the chocolate digestives Hermann keeps in his desk replaced with plain ones, his new box of chalk all in a salmony shade of pink and weak enough to snap apart under his fingers if he presses down too hard on his chalkboard. When Newt asks about the changes, the answer’s always the same: Hermann had a coupon for them, or they were less expensive than his usual. Newt just wishes he could understand where this sudden bought of thriftiness came from. It’s not like it was back during the war, where they had to pinch pennies and save in every area they could if they wanted to supplement their nonexistent funding. They’re actually getting paychecks now, on behalf of the UN’s guilty conscience! They have free room and board! They even put a few neat bucks away from some (heavily-redacted) interviews they did back in late January.

What Newt’s getting at is Hermann doesn’t have to limit them ordering out sushi to only places with free delivery on date nights, or skimp on his pizza toppings (four-topping down to two) so they can use a better coupon, or buy any of those subpar teabags or digestives or toothpaste tubes. But he just…is.

The tipping point occurs on a Saturday night about a month after the Groupon incident.

“Nn. Hermann. Do that again.”

“Do—?"

“Yeah.” Newt groans, turning his head to the side. “Oh, shit.”

“Newton—” Hermann kisses his throat. “Newton, you’re—”

“Wait.” Newt pauses. “What is that?”

“Oh, er.” Hermann pulls his hand away. “You mean the—the—?”

“Yeah. It feels…weird.” He frowns. “That is not what we used last time.”

“Oh. No. It isn’t.” Hermann clears his throat. “Well, Newton—see—we were out, so I thought I’d—I’d buy a larger bottle, to last us longer, and I happened to find a coupon for this lovely—er—gallon-sized—”

“You’re kidding,” Newt says.

“Only I thought it was a very frugal purchase,” Hermann says. “We do tend to, er, burn through it rather quickly.”

Newt rolls away from him. “Dude. We need to have a talk.”

Some brief amount of time later, they sit together on the end of Hermann’s bed, clad in their pajama bottoms and, in Hermann’s case, one of Newt’s sweatshirts. Newt waits until Hermann meets his eyes blushingly before he proceeds. “What is up with you lately?” he says. “You’ve been acting so—weird. Weirder than usual,” he amends. “Since when have you cared about saving a couple bucks on random shit like pizza?”

Hermann fidgets, and sighs, and finally reaches to pull open the drawer of his nightstand. He retrieves a piece of paper folded into quadrants, and for a wild moment Newt thinks it might be another Groupon. “Oh, I wanted it to be a surprise,” Hermann says. “I was going to wait until it was all finalized—but it’s close enough now, so I suppose there’s no harm in it.” He thrusts the paper out at Newt, and Newt—still wondering if it’s not another Groupon—unfolds it with surprise to find what looks like a flight itinerary. Two tickets for Hong Kong to Boston, with a short layover; then two more tickets a week after they land for a short trip from Boston to some town in Maine Newt recognizes as being seaside. They’re made out to Hermann Gottlieb and Newton Geiszler and purchased a little over a week ago.

“You kept telling me you wanted me to meet your father,” Hermann says, and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “And—I thought it might be nice, to have an—er—vacation, for a few days. We’ve certainly earned one. And it’s not as if we have any truly pressing obligations at the moment that can’t be put on hold for a week or two. I was planning on booking us a little cottage up in Maine—or maybe just a hotel room, I hadn’t decided—but we don’t have to if you don’t—”

“And you’ve been saving up for it?” Newt interrupts.

“For a few months now,” Hermann says. “Since February, in fact.”

“And that’s why…?”

The tips of Hermann’s ears turn red. “Every penny helped,” he says.

Newt carefully re-folds the itinerary, sets it aside, and then kisses Hermann soundly. It would be safe to say that Hermann’s thoughtful, romantic moods tend to be on the spontaneous side, probably as spontaneous as they are in Newt, so when one strikes Hermann (and in such a perfectly Hermann way as this one) Newt doesn’t like to take it for granted. “Of course I wanna go on vacation with you,” Newt says. “You rock. Seriously.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Hermann says, looking pleased.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

Text

Chapter 7: A Sentimental Journey

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 3,095

Warnings: None? I mean probably swearing but this is straight fluff

Tags: @divinity-deos @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @thecaptainsgingersnap @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @buckysarge @wildcvltre @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @peterparxour @linkispink1995 @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @ggclarissa @boredoomfm @voidnarnia @anonymousonion33 @the-passionate-freak

“Steve, take me to prom,” Steve nearly shot milk out of his nose. He’d spent the morning counting down the hours till school was over. The final essay for crabby old Lawrence was due in less than a week and you still hadn’t handed over his essay for his final rewrite, which wasn’t a problem, he could just wait until he was back in your bedroom. Steve liked your house a lot more than his. He liked your grandparents, especially Maude who’d sit him on the couch and show him photos from your childhood. He liked your bedroom and digging through your sketchbooks, he liked how comfortable you were in your own space. Samantha would sometimes join the pair of you there, eating popcorn and playing her 48s on your dusty Mickey Mouse record player. But most of the time it was the pair of you alone, working on assignments and swapping stories. He’d forgotten about Vicki entirely, he’d only joined Tommy for lunch after he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over.

“What?” he sputtered, swallowing hard. The whole table was watching him carefully. Vicki merely shrugged, batting her eyelashes at him. Steve’s stomach soured. It wasn’t as if Vicki wasn’t an attractive person, she was very pretty, but only on the outside. He didn’t really have it in him to stomach another night with her.

“I…I kind of have my eye on someone else, Vicks.” Steve watched as she deflated, looking down at her untouched kernel corn. “Besides, Hargrove’s probably itching to take you anyway.”

That was the wrong answer. Vicki immediately burst into tears, pushing away from the table. Carol rushed to console her, Tina taking up the rear. “They broke up last week, jackass.” She bit out, flipping Steve off angrily as she followed behind the crying Vicki.

Steve stood from the table, heading away from the mess he made. He didn’t want to hang out with Tommy anyway, especially with him glaring him down from across the table. He didn’t get why it mattered so much to Tommy that he do things the way he wanted. Dating Vicki didn’t make him more or less popular. It literally didn’t matter. They were going to graduate soon anyway.

Samantha grinned as she caught Steve walking over. “Harrington, twelve o’clock.” She whispered. You didn’t look up from your pad. The light had caught his hair right and you wanted to finish your shading before you lost the image in your mind. You heard Steve pull out the chair next to you and then your pad was tugged away.

“Hey!” you cried, your charcoal making a wide black streak down the page, effectively ruining the drawing.

“Who’s this supposed to be?” he held the sketchpad in front of him and then next to his face. Samantha chuckled darkly, shaking her head. “Is this supposed to be me?”

“Well, it was going to be till you ruined it.” You grumbled, snatching the pad back .

“That looks nothing like me!” Steve laughed loudly. In truth, he thought the man in the picture was too symmetrical and handsome to be him.

“On what planet?” Samantha scoffed, pulling her butterscotch pudding cup away from Steve’s greedy hands. He was a notorious pudding thief, and food thief in general, much to her annoyance and surprise.

“I get the best of everyone’s features…” you muttered, working on removing the mark he’d made “Not that there’s much to discard from you…”

“You missed the scar on my nose.” He replied with a shrug, grabbing your vanilla pudding. You both knew that you wouldn’t eat it.

You looked up “What scar?” Steve pointed to the bridge of his nose. You inched closer, getting a better view of the mark. Steve held his breath, utterly paralyzed. He felt like such a doofus. He was usually so smooth with girls, but you made him utterly tongue tied.

“Hm, yeah you do.” You pulled your face back, turning back to your pad, adding a thin line to the strong bridge of his nose. “How’d you get that?”

“Got hit in the face with a baseball bat in pee-wee t-ball.” Steve admitted. The participation trophy he had was from that game, his father took him out of the sport after getting hit. His whole team won the season, but because he didn’t play he got a tiny trophy from the league as a consolation prize.

“Seriously?” You and Samantha said in unison.

“Yeah, I made the paper and everything.” That was a point of pride for Steve, he had the clipping somewhere in his room. You and Samantha laughed at his cockiness. The image of elementary aged Steve with a huge gash down his nose and a toothless grin, holding up a dinky little trophy for the poor, underpaid reporter taking down the story.

The bell signalling the end of lunch blared over head and the three of you rushed to collect your things. Steve grabbed your tray, waiting for you to pack up your things. Samantha left without you, bidding her goodbyes to the pair of you.

Steve reached out to touch your elbow lightly, drawing your attention to him “We still good to hang out after school?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure, we can look over your essay.” You shrugged, trying to get the electric current blazing up your nerves to settle. Your breath caught in your chest every time he touched you. You wouldn’t lie to yourself, you liked him. You more than liked him; you didn’t even know how to explain it. You’d say it was love but you weren’t even sure how that was supposed to feel. All you knew is that the world seemed better when he was around and it wasn’t everything seemed greyer and duller. He was summer personified. He was sunshine and summer evenings and flowers and everything beautiful. And you never used to like all that shit. But now you wanted to bask in the glow of the sun that was Steve Harrington.

The hours till the bell always ticked slower and slower after lunch. The individual grains of sand cascaded past your eyelids as you zoned out in your other classes. When the final bell rang, the pair of you rushed from opposite sides of the school to meet in the middle. Samantha was walking disgustingly slow to your shared locker. “So, yeah I was going to ask Robin but I figure it might be suspicious enough to go with a girl, besides I don’t think I can snag another ticket so close to the deadline as is,” she’d been going on about whether or not she should invite her little junior paramour to the prom.

“Yeah, I mean most people already think you’re weird enough, showing up with a random junior might totally ruin you.” You sneered. Graduation was just around the corner, and Samantha’s acceptance to Wellesley was well taken care of. She was almost out of Hawkins; there was no point in trying to pretend that she was straight.

“It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s her. She’ll still be stuck here after I leave, I don’t want to make things hard for her.” Samantha replied with a shrug, pulling her gym kit from the bottom of your locker.

“Just take my ticket. You know most of the soccer team is going anyway.” You replied, shoving her cleats into her bag. You dropped your textbooks onto the tiny top shelf and pulled your messenger bag across your body. You spotted Steve from across the hall. He’d just left his gym class and his hair was wet and dripping on his face. He bounded over to you, grinning like a fool.

“You ready?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You ever going to dry your hair?” Samantha mused. Steve shook his head hard, water flying off his to dry it like a dog would. You and Samantha screeched, holding up your hands to hide your faces from the water.

You smacked Steve’s back “Enough!” you cried. Steve stopped immediately, laughing softly.

“I’m gone, catch you tomorrow.” Samantha waved, jogging off to probably find little Robin. You and Steve headed off towards Steve’s car. He drove the pair of you home even when you weren’t hanging out. It was nice to have a ride home, Hawkins weather wasn’t kind in spring and even in May when the weather turned warmer and the sun shone brightly, rain could still hit at any moment. That was how you rationalized making maps in your mind of Steve’s hand on the gear shift and the way his jaw clenched when someone tried to cut him off or turned too slow in the left hand turn lane. He was too beautiful. It was painful to watch him, like staring directly into the sun. You thought about kissing him more than you’d ever admit out loud. It felt like wanting to kiss the statue of David, like Pygmalion with his Galatea, too self-flagellating to even attempt. You didn’t know why you felt like his creator, but you did. You’d done nothing to build him, to mould him, and yet you left as if you knew him better than anyone else. You understood his nature, the way his mind worked.

Steve parked in his driveway and the pair of you headed across the street to your house. Your house seemed to be a specific choice for both of you. For you, being in your own home was comfortable and safe. You knew it like the back of your hand and it felt correct to be there. A cocoon of security for you to burrow into. Recently, Steve’s mother had been home much more than a month ago. You couldn’t read his mind, but being somewhere else than his own bedroom was probably a nice change. He seemed to keep you away from his house when his mother was there.

You unlocked the front door, kicking off your shoes in the doorway and tossing them on the rack. Steve followed suite mindlessly, calling into the house “Hey, Maude! Mr. Y/L/N…” he still wasn’t certain that your grandfather liked him; he seemed at times disinterested and at others cruel and cutting.

“Nice to see you again, Steve.” Maude smiled, poking her head out of the living room to smile at the pair of you. Your grandmother liked Steve. You were certain that she’d like anyone new you brought home. She was desperate to meet any of your friends and refused to believe that she’d met them all.

You and Steve headed upstairs, taking your usual seats in your bedroom, you on your desk chair and Steve laying flat on your mattress, constantly staring up at the stars. You read back his essay to him, noting the problems you’d found. This was the third time you’d edited it and the words were well worn into both of your brains. He’d decided to write on way Heathcliff is painted as a monster within the text, a fine topic which Mr. Lawrence had suggested as one of the topic choices. His argument was that Heathcliff is painted as a monster because of his interest in a woman he’s come to find in a sisterly position in his life. Basically, incest isn’t cool. It was a hard argument to proof, because the answers weren’t in the text itself, you had to push him to find points within the spaces in between the words. You were proud of the final piece that he’d created; it was a strong case and a decent attempt at a college level essay.

“What’s the verdict, chief?” Steve asked, sitting up slightly to address you fully.

“It’s good, there’s still a few sentences that need reworking and a quote that I think you could axe, but even without those edits you can still swing a solid B.” you handed the papers over to him. The pages had the least amounts of edits you’d done for him all semester. He’d really improved his writing.

“You think?” Steve replied, flipping through the pages quickly, noting the wide circle around a bit of dialogue from the fifteenth chapter. He couldn’t help but smile at the wide, bubbly ‘B+’ you’d scrawled at the top of the page. You’d drawn a little smiley face next to the grade, a small touch you’d started doing after editing his second paper, a little one pager about the thirteenth chapter of Wuthering Heights. He liked the little smiles, they made him happy whenever he saw them, they were a little touch of you on his work, a detail he refused to miss.

“Duh!” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

Steve stood from your bed, turning his attention to your shelf. You’d let him go through your work before, a small feat of trust for you. You didn’t usually even let Samantha go through most of your work. You’d usually choose what people could see of your work. But Steve seemed to like the strange, unfinished, or messy works hidden in binders or pads shelved. He pulled out a grey binder, labelled in masking tape ‘Hawkins’ Most Beautiful’. He held up the binder to you, raising an eyebrow. “Now, what the hell is this?” he asked.

“That was my first attempt at a portfolio, before I learned what a portfolio was.” You replied with a small length. Steve opened the binder, which you’d turned into a sort of album with plastic viewers holding sketches in place, both in black and white and colour. He recognized the first one immediately as Nancy from about a year ago, judging by her ringlet curls. It looked so much like he remembered her, but he knew the girl you’d drawn wasn’t who she really was. Steve flipped the page. He didn’t recognize some faces, strangers to him, and you hadn’t labelled them with names. You done a couple recreations of yearbook photos, he remembered signing a picture of Carol, Tina, and Vicki from the previous year, the trio grinning in Hawkins High merchandise.

“You could do a whole like show with these, they’re really cool.” He held the binder up, pages flipped to the portrait you’d done of Barbara Holland. When you’d drawn that, you hadn’t known that she’d go missing or wind up dead, she was just the girl sat across from you in the library with interesting glasses.

“I’d want to redo them first. They’re all rough drafts. I planned to redraw them, choosing to emphasize one colour for each of the drawings, but then I also planned to black out their eyes, and then I thought they were all stupid ideas.” You explained sheepishly.

“No, don’t touch them.” Steve cut in “They’re perfect the way they are.”

Steve wasn’t much of an art critic. He certainly wasn’t an objective judge. But despite logic, you blushed heavily, turning your gaze away. You wished Steve would look away but he didn’t, you felt his eyes on you. “You really don’t have to be so nice, you know…” you muttered, looking up to meet his eye with a shy smile.

“Go to prom with me?” Steve hadn’t thought about the question before he said it. The subject had been on his mind since that afternoon and when he told Vicki that he had someone else in mind for the dance. At the time he didn’t think much of the statement, now it seemed obvious who his subconscious was alluding to.

“What?” you breathed out wide eyed and confused. You hadn’t planned on going at all. Samantha wanted to go, and you’d bought tickets but when she gained interested in Robin you relinquished your ticket easily to her. She’d have more fun on a quasi-date with the junior.

“Go with me,” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have a date yet do you?”

“I don’t even have a ticket…I gave it away.” you replied, looking at your feet instead of him. You felt like such a little geek. You knew Steve wasn’t laughing at you, but you still felt small.

“I have two. And I want you to go with me.” Steve said simply, reaching out and taking your hand.

“Are you sure? I mean your friends all hate me and I don’t think your status as king will be damaged if they see you with me.” You replied, shaking your head as if the statement was funny. You couldn’t imagine spending the night with Tommy and Carol, and having it go well. You knew that it wouldn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be like that. It can be whatever you want.” Steve said easily. He just wanted you to feel comfortable and it was so obvious that you weren’t. “And I don’t care about those guys. I’ll kick their asses if they try anything.”

“Whoa, calm down, we don’t want you getting hurt.” You joked, looking up at the ceiling. You didn’t have to know Steve personally to know that he was not a fighter, losing to freak Jonathan Byers was not a small story in a small town. Steve laughed at his own expense. Internally, he knew he could fight when he needed to, to protect people, but he couldn’t exactly tell that story. It still scared him too much to speak of.

“So, will you?” he asked. You rubbed your lips together, unsure what the right answer was. If there even was a right answer. Your gut instinct said yes without a doubt, but your mind fought back at the notion of even humouring the idea. You’d get laughed out of the place. You’d get mocked. Steve was playing a cruel prank. He couldn’t want to be seen with you. But you met his eye and you didn’t see any malice there. His wide, expressive eyes screamed kindness and patience.

You swallowed hard, pushing away feelings of worry. “Yeah, okay…” you said softly, taking Steve’s hand again to steady yourself. Steve would protect you if he needed to. He’d promised to. And you trusted him.

“Yeah?” he asked, matching your tone.

“Yeah.” You nodded hard, almost as if to convince him as well as yourself. Steve’s face split into his wide grin and you found yourself smiling too. Despite yourself, you were a bit excited. You spent the afternoon with his hand in yours, not letting go unless you did, looking over the portraits and discussing what you saw in the faces. It was the first moment of peace your heart had found in a long time

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sovonight · 4 years

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flurrin replied to your post “guess who just spent 4 hours figuring out how to...”

P. Please post a tutorial

disclaimer that i still have absolutely zero knowledge of how to use 3d modeling programs, but here i go

how to extract atton’s (or any) model from k2 and unwrap its uv maps:

(before i start, someone made a video tutorial on extracting the ebon hawk model, but they apparently did it with older/no longer recommended tools? it didn’t really help me bc of the version differences, but here it is anyway)

tools needed:

3dsmax (free for students/instructors, or free 30 day trial) or gmax (free but very old apparently, but kotor is pretty old so it all works out). i'm using 3dsmax 2021 bc that’s what i got access to so i have No idea about gmax

download & be able to run kotor tool. this’ll extract the model/texture files you need from the game files

download & be able to run mdledit. this’ll turn the mdl files into ascii files

download & follow the instructions to install kotormax. this’ll let you open ascii files in 3dsmax/gmax

first, run kotor tool:

go to Kotor II\BIFs\models.bif\Aurora Model and find the .mdl file you’re looking for. people are under p, and things aren’t listed totally alphabetically, so don’t worry if it feels like you already skipped it

i’m looking for p_attonbb and p_attonh, so i selected those one at a time and clicked extract file on the right, and saved it to a folder on my desktop. you’ll want to keep all these files in the same folder bc it’ll come in handy later

so i now have p_attonbb.mdl and p_attonh.mdl. close Aurora Model and open Aurora Model Extension just below it, and look for the same file names, but just as mdx files this time. save those too, and i now have p_attonbb.mdx and p_attonh.mdx

if you don’t already have texture files, you should get those too. go to Kotor II\ERFs\TexturePacks\swpc_tex_tpa.erf and look for the right filenames-- atton’s are pretty obvious, but if you don’t know which one the model uses, you can hold off until the next step. anyway, once you find the file, extract it as a tga. tga is good for most purposes, tgc is for people who know what they’re doing (which is not me lol)

second, run mdledit:

select the relevant kotor game (click on the button to swap between them) and the platform (it switches between pc and xbox)

click File -> Load and select the .mdl file you extracted earlier. if you didn’t know what texture(s) the file uses earlier, you can find out here by going to Edit -> Textures, where all the texture filenames will be listed out for you

select File -> Save -> ASCII and save the file. i did that for each mdl file i had, and got p_attonbb.mdl.ascii and p_attonh.mdl.ascii

close mdledit! you’re done with it

third, install kotormax if you haven’t already!

fourth, run 3dsmax:

you should see this column. this was my first time ever seeing 3dsmax, so it took me like 10 minutes to realize this, but this whole column is kotormax. if for any reason it didn’t show up, just go to Scripting -> Run Script, and open 3dsmax 2021\scripts\KOTORmax\kotormax.ms

expand “MDL Loading”, click browse, and navigate to the .ascii file you saved earlier. click import at the bottom

and here he is! he already has textures on him because, if you kept all your files in the same folder as suggested, the texture file was Right There for 3dsmax to find. (the first time i did this, i didn’t have the texture file there and it showed up blank. i now unfortunately know how to link a texture in manually.)

ok so wtf are those white blocks around him you ask, and how do i get rid of them? well, that’s the very question that plagued me for literally 3 hours, and there’s a very simple answer to that. it’s just the dummy model and you just hide it. infuriatingly simple! you’d think that i, someone who has used literally any art program before, would immediately have recognized this whole setup on the left:

expand everything and click the eyes to hide everything you don’t want. if you’re on atton’s body model, you’ll want to hide everything except for JacketFlapNew, ShirtFlapNew, LArm_Geo, RArm_Geo, and Torso_Geo. if there’s anything left in the viewport that you don’t want, you probably just missed expanding something in the filetree; you can just click it in the viewport and it’ll be highlighted for you in the filetree

so here we are! the display here automatically updates when the texture file is changed, so i can edit the tga file and save and immediately see my changes reflected on the model. from here, i changed “default shading” to “flat color” to see the texture more clearly.

if your model has two parts, like atton does, you can open both and kinda align them together manually. go back to “MDL Loading” and import the other mdl file-- in my case, it’s p_attonh. but oh no, it showed up at his feet:

first, remove the unwanted chunks & boxes like before. for atton, that’ll be everything except for eyeLA, eyeLid, eyeRA, eyeRlid, HairFlaps_Geo, hairPiece, Head_Geo, and teethUp. (i don’t know what i’m going to do now that i know that atton’s got a part called hairflaps.)

now select P_AttonH in the filetree on the left, then select the move tool up top.

click on the view you’re going to use to move stuff around in, then hover over the base of his head until the move icon shows up. if you hover over one of the axes and then drag, you can move just along that axis. i did y-axis first, then z-axis, just eyeballing it until it aligned.

now we can get into the UV map (well, we could have earlier, but it felt a little awkward with him headless). select everything you’re interested in. i’m doing his armor, so i ctrl+clicked to select every visible part of his body (you can do this either in the filetree or in the viewport). now go to Modifiers -> UV Coordinates -> Unwrap UVW, and something new will show up on the right column:

look down under “Edit UVs“ and click on “Open UV Editor“:

a new window opens up. if you want to see this overlaid on his texture immediately, you can use the dropdown on the top left. but i want a transparent png, so i’m exporting this.

to export this just go to Tools -> Render UVW Template, and another window opens up. (here i entered 2048 for the width and height bc those are the dimensions of the high res atton retexture i want to edit.) under “render output”, click the “...” and choose a filename & format to save the output under. then click “Render UV Template”. another window will open up with the render map, but you can just close it, bc it’s already been exported in the filename you set just earlier.

and there you go! ta-da. i wrote this all in one go so i hope it makes sense

oh, and yeah, if for whatever reason you need to apply a texture manually instead of it automatically being applied when you import it, open the material editor (use the weird little icon). click the little eyedropper tool, and eyedrop the model you need to texture

something new will show up in the material editor window:

now get your texture file, and drag and drop the file into the window. then drag a line from the node on the texture you just added, to the “diffuse color” node from the model.

and there! texture’s applied. it’s pretty simple but bc i stubbornly refused to be slowed down by tutorial videos, i slowed myself down for an hour figuring this out from scratch

#kotor 2

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reddesertcolbs · 4 years

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accidental spills // colson baker

requested: yes

summary: colson paints your nails but he’s clumsy and knocks the nail polish onto the floor.

word count: 1.5k+ words.

warnings: some swear words and a slightly stressed (but cute) colson.

masterlist

your legs are resting on top of colson’s, as you both have your attention to the huge flat screen on the wall. the pads of his fingers dance along your exposed shins, as he lets out cackles at the scene that’s playing.

you pick at the polish on your nails, as you watch the movie on the television, and look away briefly to inspect your fingernails, which are now chipped and half of the polish is missing on each nail bed.

you glance over at your breathtaking boyfriend, who is wearing his baby blue hoodie with the hood hiding his blonde locks, shorts and his feet are bare. you stare at his hands, as they move along your soft legs and you watch as his rings dig into your legs slightly, but not in an uncomfortable way.

colson can feel your eyes on him, so he turns his head to to right and grins at you, in which you return. he loves catching you staring at him, it makes him fill with pride because he knows how much love you have for him, and it warms his heart because he never thought that he would find someone who loves him, for him. same for you, the man loves you so much that he feels like is heart is going to explode.

“what are you staring at, baby?” he smirks, continuing to massage your shins with the pads of his thumbs.

“do you want to paint my nails?” you ask him, watching his facial features and ignoring his teasing smirk. he looks back at you, tugging his bottom lip between his pearly whites, before nodding and letting out a hum in response.

“sure, but they might turn out shit.” he chuckles, patting your shins with this palm.

smiling from ear to ear, you lift your legs from out of his lap and hurriedly climb the stairs to his room. once reaching his room, you grab the box that holds all of your nail supplies before climbing down the stairs again, clutching the heavy box tightly in your hands so you don’t drop it.

when you arrive in the living room again, colson has moved so he is sitting cross legged on the sofa in the direction that you were originally sitting in, and he is resting his chin on his palm, waiting for your return. once he hears your footsteps, he whips his head into your direction and extends his arms so he can take the heavy box out of your arms, and place it in front of him.

“where do you want me?” you ask, grinning as you look down at him from your standing position.

“in front of me, please.” he nods in the direction with a smile mirroring yours, and opens the box. he pulls out the nail polish remover and cotton pads, so he can remove your current manicure.

you take a seat opposite him, and mimic his position. you follow his every move, as he removes the base coat and top coat and places them next to him.

“what colour do you want, my love?” he questioned, watching your movements, as you fold your fingers together and look at him in awe.

“you pick, i’m not too sure,” you respond, looking into the box that holds multiple different shades of polish. you definitely have too many to count, but you don’t mind. “surprise me.”

“well, you had white last time.” he says, clutching your hands in his and starts to remove the chipped white polish on your nails. “so you’re not having white this time.”

you can’t remove the smile that is plastered on your face, as your man delicately swipes nail polish remover over your nail beds. he places the nail polish remover back into the box, and applies a thin layer of base coat, just like you showed many times before.

“close your eyes.” he demands with a smirk. chuckling, you follow his orders and close your eyes tightly. you can hear him digging through the box for a couple of minutes, as he lets your base coat dry, and then the rattling of the glass bottles clinking together comes to a halt.

“okay open,” he mummers. you blink quickly, as your eyes adjust to the bright light and look at your gorgeous boyfriend. “what about this one?”

there’s a nervous look on his face, as he holds up a yellow nail polish in his right hand, and you can’t help but smile at his facial expression.

“i picked it because it’s a pretty colour, and you’re pretty so it’s a match made in heaven. but it's okay if you don’t like it, i can swap it.” he chews on his bottom lip nervously, as he waits for you answer, but a smile is threatening to escape as you release a chuckle.

“i love it, you’re so cute baby. we’ll go with that one.” you lean forward and press a kiss to his plump lips, and lean back again after you feel him kiss your lips back. you place your hands onto his knees, and watch as he unscrews the lid to the yellow polish, with a soft smile on his lips.

you bring your bottom lip between your teeth, to stop yourself from smiling, as he leans close to your fingers so he can have a better look. he loads the brush with the yellow polish and carefully paints your nail beds. his own lip is between his teeth and his breathing is steady as he concentrates, because he doesn’t want to get the yellow polish all over your fingers.

a sigh of relief is released through his nose, as he straightens his back after painting the first coat. he screws the lid back onto the bottle tightly, so he doesn’t spill any, and he places it so the rest on the sofa below him. he brings your fingers up to his lips and blows cool air onto them, to help them dry quicker and he makes eye contact with you.

“do you like them so far?” he asks, a hopeful tone evident in it as you pull your hand towards you, and glance at them.

“they look good, baby. you’re doing great.” you smile, placing your hand back onto his bare knee and giving it a gentle rub.

“well, i do have the best teacher.” he winks, leaning forward to connect his lips with yours, and hums in satisfaction against your soft lips.

he pulls away from your lips, and picks up the yellow polish once again so he can apply the last coat. he repeats the process from earlier on all of your nails, but a small groan leaves his lips as he manages to get a small amount of polish on your cuticles.

he balances the glass bottle on his knee, and using his own finger, he attempts to remove the polish from your skin. whilst doing this, the bottle falls off his knee and onto the floor, yellow polish spilling onto the white marble.

“shit,” he groans in defeat, and he rushes to grab the bottle that’s now on the floor. his face twists into a sour expression when he sees yellow polish all over the floor. “didn’t mean to do that, for fuck sake. i’m sorry”

“s’okay babe, don’t worry. it was an accident, you didn’t break it.” you chuckle, trying to lighten his now sour mood, and you attempt to help him clean up the best you can with your wet fingernails. “it’s only nail polish.”

he cleans the polish up with the cotton pads and nail polish remover, and throws the dirty cotton pads onto the coffee table. he sits cross legged again, and brings your hands back so they’re resting on his knees again, and he looks over your nails, with furrowed eyebrows.

“i’ve ruined them.” he mutters, and leans to rest his chin on his palm with pouted lips. you lean forward to press a kiss onto his pouty lips and you pull away with a soft smile.

“you haven’t, they look great, my love.” you spoke softly, squeezing his knees calmly to comfort him “just apply the top coat and they’ll be fine.”

with this, he nods and places the yellow nail polish delicately back into the box to join the others. he picks up the top coat, and applies them to your yellow coated nails, and he makes sure to grip the bottle tightly with his left hand, so he doesn’t drop it. once it’s all applied, he repeats the process of blowing cool air onto your fingers to help hasten the drying process.

a smile takes over his face, and his furrowed brows are replaced with raised brows of shock, as he looks at his work on your nails. he presses a tender kiss to the top of your hand, and looks up at you with soft eyes.

“i think this is the best set i’ve done for you.” he says proudly, as he releases his hand to put away your nail supplies. once they’re secure in the box, he closes it and places it on the coffee table.

“i think so too, baby.” you examine your fresh manicure, and your heart skips a beat because of how cute your boyfriend is. “you’ve done a great job. you’re going to have to do my nails more often.”

he hums and nods in agreement, as he beams at you. he moves to face the television again, the movie you were both watching was nearly finished, and gently takes your legs in his hands and stretches them out so they’re over his again. his fingers dance along your soft skin again, just like he was doing before he painted your nails, and you looked at him with pure admiration, whilst your heart explodes with so much love for the blonde man sitting beside you.

request here

#colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker blurb #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly blurb #mgk

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digitaldreams0801 · 3 years

Text

Frontiers Unexplored D-Tectors

I have been meaning to do this for ages, but here we are! The D-Tectors are finished! I did these a few days ago but forgot to post them like a little clown, so here they are now. Note that if the book says anything different about colorations, ignore it. I haven’t had the chance to go back and edit any mistakes in D-Tector colorations within the text, but these are the conclusive designs (I think the only mistakes I’ve made are potentially referring to Chihiro’s as orange and Mayumi’s as gold but these are the actual designs so I’ll get around to editing that later on).

Like the picture says, the ring color around the screen is indicative of the patron for each Warrior. A yellow ring (Tomoki, Izumi, Junpei, and Mayumi) means they are a Warrior of Seraphimon. Pink (Takuya, Koji, and Haroi) means Ophanimon, and purple (Koichi, Chihiro, Yumiko, Hinoka, and Saki) equates to Cherubimon. The ring only changes color after the patron has given the Legendary Warrior a blessing to reach the Hybrid level. For Seraphimon’s Warriors, this took place at Evergreen Dawn, for example. Prior to that, the rings were the same color as the Digivice’s accent shade.

Now for button functions! The top left button is the selection button, and it scans through the three forms of each Legendary Warrior, swapping through the cycle each time it is pressed. It goes in order of Human, Beast, and then Hybrid before looping back to Human. If a Legendary Warrior doesn’t have a given form, it will skip that specific level in scrolling the order. The right button is the activation button and creates the ring of Fractal Code needed for Spirit Evolution. The bottom left button brings up the holographic radar used for tracking each other and their Spirits’ locations (as long as they are in range, of course).

With that said, I think I’m done with my D-Tector spiel! Time for me to descend into the void and work on chapter forty-six! See you all next week for the next new release!

#digimon #digimon frontier #frontier #rewrite #digital's frontier rewrite bs #frontiers unexplored

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sidespromptblog · 5 years

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Liar: Part 5

One, Two, Three, Four, Six, and End.

Summary: In the midst of a breakdown, Deceit comforts Logan. It is while doing so that Logan decides that if the others can't accept him for him... then he'll just be what Deceit is... another liar.

Word Count: 2220

The moment that he entered the kitchen, hearing the clattered of too many cups and the smell of coffee and tea being prepared Patton felt something in his chest tremble as his bottom lip wobbled at the onslaught of tears that threatened to overcome him. He.. he had never seen Logan so overtly furious before, and never before had it ever been aimed at him. He’d always said that he needed two cookies for bad days, but today… it felt like not even a million cookies could ever begin to make him feel like a normal functioning side ever again. He felt split, right down the middle as he struggled to both shove down the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him, and just weep like there was no tomorrow.

Was this what Roman and Remus had felt like when they’d been split apart?

He hoped not, because honestly… what he was feeling right now was awful, and he wouldn’t wish it on his greatest enemy even if he had one.

The sight of Roman hovering over the stove hastily preparing the tea that he had said he was going to get ready for everyone blurred as the tears swept over his vision again, and before he could even think to stop himself a whimper curled up in his throat stopping Roman’s actions dead in their tracks. His hands remaining frozen where he held the mixing spoon hastily stirring the tea in an effort to keep his mind off of things, however, at that sound… that one little sound coming from Patton his entire world froze in a heartbeat as his breath caught in his lungs.

“Mi Cielo!” The words rushed out of Roman as he quickly put the teapot on a cool burner, wasting absolutely no time at all as he rushed to Patton’s side. “Oh, Cielo please don’t cry.” He practically begged as he cupped Patton’s face like it was the most important thing in the world to him, and he was… he honestly was. But watching Patton break down right in front of him left his heart feeling open and jagged, like the rocks of a tomb that hundreds of climbers had perished on.

He felt like he was breaking, even if he was entirely whole.

Patton’s bottom lip wobbled as the tears streaked his face, “I..I’m sorry!” He stammered out, his fingers curling into Roman’s shirt as he practically threw himself at the creative side burying his face into his shoulder as he felt those warm hands rubbing up and down his back just as they always did. “I’m so sorry! I.. I didn’t mean for any of this.. I.. I do want us to be..to be a…”

“Patton…” Roman stopped him before he could say another word and just make himself that much more upset. “My love, my heart, and my joy... we.. we can’t be a family.” He whispered, just feeling Patton’s tremblings increase at his words, and even despite this he kissed the top of the moral side’s head in a placating manner. “As it stands… We can’t even accept the sides of Thomas that are scary to him, we argued and ignored Logan to the point that he needed to leave us, and… and we weren’t exactly welcoming to Logic, Patton. I love you… but I will not lie to you about this. To them, we.. we are the farthest thing from family, you don’t hurt family. And as much as I regret it, we.. we have hurt them all a great deal. We can’t just wipe that under the rug, they deserve better than that.”

It was true, they had come to accept Virgil sure… but it was only after he had ducked out and had made his own feelings about them very clear. And even then… it seemed like Virgil still forgot that he didn’t need to be on the defense with them, especially given how much Roman got in bed with him at the end of the day with his own feelings hurt and stripped away thanks to the barbs of Virgil’s words. Roman had Patton, to hold him and make him feel better at the end of the day, but… nobody had been there for Logan.

Why hadn’t he been there for Logan too?

The familiar feeling of guilt spread its inky webs through his heart, making him clutch at Roman all the tighter.

“I’m such a hypocrite,” The moral side whispered into Roman’s shoulder, “I talk about how lying is so bad.. and shouldn’t be done no matter what. And.. and here I am, lying to myself, and everyone else constantly, I lied when I said that I was just Thomas’ happy emotions, and that when I thought I could hide everything with a smile. No wonder…” The guilt increased like an anvil of weight on his chest as he choked the words out, “No wonder Deceit’s grown tired of hiding, we use assets of him and.. and Remus every single day, and then deny they exist at all. I’m such a hypocrite, I’m such a ba-”

“No!”

Roman growled the words out, as he detached himself from Patton. He wouldn’t stand to hear that last word come from Patton’s mouth, he would not stand for it to leave his lips… he couldn’t. Stroking away the leftover tears away with the pad of his thumb, Roman leaned in stealing whatever words Patton could say with a soft and tender kiss that would have gone on and on had it not been for the overbearing knowledge that other people were waiting on them to come back and actually give them tea. If they stayed in here too long… there was no telling just what would happen next with Logan and his ability to now tell their lies apart.

So it was with great reluctance that Roman pulled away, as Patton’s once tearstain face was now stained with various shades of pink.

If he hadn’t been smitten for Patton before… well, then this most certainly did it.

“Come on mi Cielo, help me with the tea? You know how Logan likes it best right?” It took a few seconds, as Patton hurriedly wiped the remaining tears from his face and put on an affectionate smile that said more than words ever could. But eventually, he nodded before pushing the sleeves of his cat hoodie up and getting to work right alongside the creative side. “Great,” Roman murmured, swapping one last chaste kiss with the moral side before they both got to work.

The smell that filled the kitchen was absolutely divine.

They ended up carrying the various array of mugs out on the biggest plate that they had, it wobbled precariously at times. With the massive mug that belonged to Logan and the thin delicate teacup that was Roman’s taking up a good chunk of space on the same platter. But nevertheless, they managed to get all of them out there, setting the cups in front of each side. It had been all too easy to hand Virgil over his cup of tea, and even easier to go right ahead to sipping on it like he usually did. But… Patton honestly didn’t think that there was anything as hard as putting Logan’s starry mug in front of him, and watching him not drink a single drop of the warm liquid that was inside of it.

“Its..” Patton swallowed thickly at the piercing stare that snapped up to him the moment that he opened his mouth. “It’s mocha mint, just how you like it.” He offered, folding his hands behind his back in an effort to hide just how badly they were trembling. He couldn’t stand the piercing untrustworthy stare that Logan had saddled him with, it hurt… it hurt more than any heartbreak ever had in his entire life.

But… he had done this, so he would accept whatever consequences came his way.

A rush of relief swept through him though, when Logan still eying him cautiously, gingerly picked up his mug and took a delicate sip from it before blowing on it again. He still trusted them well enough to actually eat in front of them, let alone something that they had made, so that was more than what could be said when Virgil had first started joining them for meals. So maybe… just maybe things weren’t totally lost between all of them, maybe there was still some semblance of hope that remained between them.

Logan blew on the warm drink again, just to stop the cup hovering right under his lips as he saw Logi.. no Delta’s lingering but equally stare focused on the cup in his hands. “Here,” He mumbled, carefully passing the cup over to him, “Blow on it first, it’s still a little warm. You might like it.” He offered, quirking a tiny smile at the sheer newborn curiosity coming off of Delta in waves. He.. he was very much like himself, when Logan had first formed for Thomas. He had been curious about everything, to the point that Patton had made it rule that he had to wear oven mitts for safety whenever he walked into the kitchen at one point.

Those days had been amazing, better than amazing really…

Gone.

“What’s the taste?” Patton could have melted at the childlike curiosity written all over this new Logic’s face, as sipped and sipped again from Logan’s mug with the scientific calculations of someone who was conducting tests. It reminded him eerily of those times when Logan would create “potions” out of random things he found in the imagination. Which usually just ended up being big pots of mud that Logan was stirring with a stick he had found, that had never stopped him though, especially when Roman started to play alone. Creating quests in search of Logan’s legendary potion ingredients.

Those had really been the days that they had got alone best, nothing like now… where the only way Logan would look at them, was with a scowl.

“That’s mint, it's a cold taste. While the other is bits of chocolate, it's smooth.” Logan helpfully explained as that smile… that tiny warm smile that lit up the smallest parts of his face seemed to shine. “It tastes good yes? The combination is one that I am quite particular for it, even… they seem to know that.”

That stung.

Patton couldn’t help but to sharply wince at the direction of those words, as he clutched his warm cup even tighter as soon as his hands started to tremble again. He could already feel his bottom lip starting to wobble again, but… for the sake of everything, he pushed past that and the tears that so desperately wanted to make themselves known again. He needed to be strong, and he needed to do this and make sure that everything could start getting headed in the right direction. The others, whether they knew it or not looked to him for guidance as Thomas’ moral compass, and he couldn’t let them down more than he already had. He needed to do this… he had to. No matter how much it would sting what little pride he had left, it.. it needed to be done.

“Logan,” Patton’s voice remained surprisingly steady as he set his cup down trying to remain as serious as possible, he had to fix things, no he needed to fix things before... Before what? Things had already gotten awfully out of hand. “Logan, if and when you are able to, I would like you to summon him… so that I can talk with Deceit. Not you,” He quickly clarified as soon as he saw the slightest inkling of Logan’s eyebrow starting to rise up towards his forehead. “The.. the other Deceit, Logan.”

Almost immediately suspicion raced through Logan’s blood, making his heart hammer in his chest. “Why?” He cautiously hissed, his muscles bunching up, as his body immediately starting itching for him to get up and go, as if getting ready to run a marathon to who knows where. “Why?”

Roman and Virgil’s gazes said something similar, although the anxious side’s expression spoke more of sheer uncertainty more than anything else. So they both hadn’t seen this coming, all things considered, so Patton was springing this up out of nowhere… or maybe he had time to think about it. Logan couldn’t exactly tell from the stiff expression on the moral side’s face alone, what he could tell though… was that Patton looked guilty.

And guilt was suspicious as hell.

“It’s nothing bad,” The truth burst over Logan’s tongue like the sweet juice of an orange, but it only made him relax in the slightest way possible. Not bad… but to who? “I just… I want to talk to him about his place here as one of Thomas’ sides, as… as one of his dark sides. That’s all.” Patton calmly explained his hands up in that universal motion of peace and order, even though the last thing that Logan felt was peace and order with words like that coming from Patton’s mouth as he stepped closer little by little before gingerly placing his hand on Logan's knee giving it a little squeeze. “Call him whenever you like Lo, I can wait.”

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mypassionfortrash · 4 years

Text

Nothing Serious (Part Nine)

You join Roger in Montreux as Queen prepare to record their next album, and spend time exploring the city... and each other.

Pairing: Roger Taylor x f!reader Warnings: Filth, daddy kink, STRICTLY 18+ Notes: I forgot about this. Sorry. If you like this fic, please reblog it!

💫 CATCH UP HERE! 💫

Tags: @jennyggggrrr; @sarahgurl09; @sunshine112; @biscuit-barrel; @sitonmyhot-seatoflove; @jhoemazzellhoe; @justgivemethekeys; @qweenly; @picturepowderinabottle

You and Roger sat in the back of the car in stunned silence. You had your nosed pressed up against the glass, admiring the view of Lac Leman.

Roger admired you admiring the view.

From the snowy peaks of the alps on the French side, to the cobbled streets and cosy bars in Lausanne, Vevey and Clarens, you were positively enthralled on the journey from Geneva Airport to Montreux.

You and Roger didn’t even have to make proper, joined up conversation. All he had to do was listen to your awe struck outbursts, pointing out yet another feature he had probably seen many times before on his way to Mountain Studios. Every now and again, he’d give your fingers a supportive squeeze, letting you know that he heard you.

There was something about Montreux alone; above all the other towns you passed on your journey. Something magical. Something that you just couldn’t put your finger on. It made your fears disappear and your worries drift away; home felt like a distant memory. It soothed you with blue skies, and sprawling lake views, and mediterranean-looking buildings with pastel facades and ornate balconies.

“We’re almost there.”

You turned to Roger, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. “This is more beautiful than you said.”

“We should go exploring later,” he said, brushing his fingers over your thigh. “There’s a lot of nice little bars and restaurants here. We’ll be staying a block away from the studio. Right about… here,” he said nodding towards a block of bright yellow apartments with stacks of generous balconies. To your right, they offered sprawling lake views against a backdrops of snow-tipped mountains. To your left, you had to crane your neck just to spy the top of the densely-populated hillside.

“Oh,” you sighed, admiring the building and all its exquisite views, “it’s stunning.”

“They really are. You can’t beat a bottle of wine and watching the sun set from up there.”

“It’s perfect for it,” you said, getting out of the car and opening the boot, much to your chauffeur’s dismay. “It’s fine, I’ve got this,” you told him, carting your luggage out and on to the pavement.

“She’s got it,” Roger laughed, taking his own suitcases. “Thank you.”

Standing at the door to the building, you and Roger exchanged excited glances and bolstering sighs, before linking your fingers together. Wandering into the lobby, the atmosphere struck you. It looked and smelled like money and excess and opulence, with shiny slate grey flooring and clean white walls. There were no chandeliers or gold trims. It was a modern kind of rich. A sickening, classy kind of rich. That you actually kind of liked.

A petite, brunette receptionist greeted you both: “Bonjour Monsieur Taylor. Et Madame.”

“Bonjour, Gaudine,” Roger said, wandering over to the desk. “Do you have my key?”

“Oui – voila!” she said, handing Roger the key. “We’ve cleaned the apartment and it’s ready for your stay. We have put champagne in your fridge and done a bit of shopping so that you have everything you need. If you need anything, just call.”

“Merci beaucoup, Gaudine,” Roger smiled, placing his hand at the small of your back and leading you towards the lift.

You pressed the button and the door slid open in a moment of slick convenience. When the pair of you got inside, you slumped against opposite sides of the compartment, swapping wild grins. You could tell from the way Roger’s eyes devoured every detail of your body that he was dreaming up everything he was going to do to you once you got to the flat.

Roger chewed his lip. His breath laboured. Pinpricks of desire seared from his chest to his cheeks, flushing him a delightful shade of pink. As the lift ascended, so did his need and his lust. And when the door finally pinged open, he grabbed your arm and hauled you down the corridor towards the flat.

Discarding your bags at the door, you pounced on him, sending his back flying against the wall.

But he was swift to take control, turning around and hiking your thighs up around his waist making you cling to him for dear life. “You didn’t put your knickers back on, did you?” he purred in your ear.

You were too busy undoing his jeans to answer him; his cock already stood at attention, thick, intimidating and ready to slip into the next available hole.

“You dirty girl.” Slipping his cock through your pink, swollen folds, Roger pushed into you.

Feverish and urgent, you ground your hips against his grasp as you gasped at being filled so deliciously again. The sharp, snappy rhythm he settled into made you clench around him.

“What are you Kitten?” Roger growled.

In the throes of delirium, you couldn’t find the words to respond to him. You could only bear to focus on his cock, pumping away at you. In deep, wet passes, he bottomed out inside you time and time again. Your fingers clawed at his shoulders, and his neck, and his hair to find something to cling on to to steady yourself. But he was all the support you needed with his body pressed tight against you. He was all over you.

His chin nestled into your neck, biting down on your skin, rougher and more ravenously with each thrust. “Touch yourself for me, Kitten,” he growled in your ear. “I want to feel that tight cunt of yours milking my cock when you come.”

If those words of his were enough to shoot sparks of bliss straight between your legs, then god knows what your fingers coupling with his efforts might do to you, you thought as you mindlessly started to draw circles over your clit. An almighty whine escaped you. So loud that you prayed the walls were thick enough to stop the neighbours hearing. And then another. And another. You had to fight to stifle them on Roger’s neck as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through your aching body as you tried to stay clinging to Roger. Quiet whimpers, of “yes Daddy,” or, “right there, Daddy,” were absorbed by the collar of his shirt. And that only made his movements more purposeful as you writhed uncontrollably.

“Good girl,” he coaxed. “Come for me, Kitten. Come for Daddy.”

You frantically rubbed and rubbed until your cunt milked Roger’s cock for every drop of cum he could fill you with.

Roger had to prop you up until you caught your breath and regained some semblance of control.

“You alright, darling?” he chuckled, kissing your forehead.

“Yes, Daddy–Roger! Sorry,” you sighed, smoothing down your dress and clenching your thighs together.

Roger shook his head with a smirk. “We’ll be having more of than now we’re out here. And I love it when you get all awkward on me, Kitten,” he said, fixing your hair for you. “The bathroom’s there on your right. Clean yourself up and I’ll show you the rest of the flat.”

“Yeah,” you said dreamily, sauntering through to the bathroom. You locked the door behind you and eyed yourself in the mirror with a jolt of horror. Had you really walked through Geneva airport with your hair sticking up in all directions and your mascara caked underneath your eyes? Or the buttons on your dress all askew and misaligned? And those mysterious stains at the back? You clearly hadn’t done as good a job of cleaning yourself up on the plane as you thought you had. And why didn’t Roger tell you? “Fuck,” you laughed to yourself, dragging out a tuft of tissues and bending over the sink to get a better view of your misplaced makeup.

You swiped the tissues underneath your eyes, smearing the thick black gunk off your face. And then you turned your attention towards the rest of your body. Flying had a habit of drying out your skin and making you feel like the grossest thing on two legs; you could practically feel the slurry of germs that crawled all over your body.

In the corner of the room, by the back window that looked out on to the alpine view, stood a sparkling red bath tub. It called out to you, promising that you could be clean in no time.

“Roger!” you shouted.

You heard shuffling coming from outside the bathroom door. “Yes, Kitten?”

“Can you go through my bags and get me something nice to wear and my wash bag please?”

“Of course, darling.”

“Thanks,” you said, flicking off the lock on the door. Setting about throwing off your dress and your bra, you leaned over the tub and put the tap on, sending water cascading into it. Above the tub, there were columns of black and white shelves, stocked with all the expensive looking lotions and potions anyone could ever need. You saw one interesting looking jar, like something out of a sweet shop, bearing the label, ‘pine and patchouli bath salts.’ That would do. You grabbed the bottle and dumped a capful into the boiling hot water. And then went back to eying up the rest of Roger’s accoutrements.

It turned out he was a big fan of lavender and sage, too; you grabbed the soap and the lotion, not caring if they matched your bath salts. And then the bubble bath. How could you forget that? Throwing a generous splodge into the water, you looked down, like a witch admiring her brew, as the bubbles doubled.

“I see you’ve found my spa stash,” a voice from behind you chuckled.

You turned to find Roger laying out towels and a set of pyjamas on the bench at the bathroom door.

“Sorry, I needed something after that flight. I haven’t forgotten what you told me about what Steven Tyler gets up to in that plane.”

“Those salts are fantastic when my shoulders are acting up,” he commented with a nod towards the sweetie bottle.

“Do you want to join me, Daddy?” you asked. You felt emboldened again, running your hands up Roger’s chest, making sure you squeezed his aching shoulders. They were still tense, but surely not out of sexual frustration, you thought to yourself.

“Could do with a quick dunk,” Roger shrugged. He watched as your fingers unfastened the buttons on his shirt one by one. His voice shook from the contact. “Why don’t I get that lovely bottle of champagne from the fridge?”

“Be quick,” you warned, giving him a pat on his bare chest. “I’m not done with you yet, Daddy.”

Roger moved faster than you had ever seen him go, taking him all of thirty seconds to pluck the bottle of champagne from the fridge and locate a couple of glasses in the kitchen, before he returned to find you already sitting comfortably in the tub, stretching out your legs under a blanket of soft, heady bubbles.

“Do you want to do the honours, Kitten?” he asked, handing you the bottle.

“Don’t mind if I do, Daddy,” you purred, taking it from his grasp. You watched with your hand wrapped tightly around the neck of the bottle as Roger shuffled out of the rest of his clothes, sporting the beginnings of yet another hard on, and stepped into the tub in front of you. You flicked your eyes to his as you bit your lip, sending a visible shiver through him. That raging confidence you had in the beginning was back with a vengeance and nothing was going to stop you from making your time in Montreux as memorable, and as debauched, as you could. “Ready, Daddy?”

Roger woke up in a pile of white silk sheets. The sheer curtain billowed into the room in smoky swathes in time to the cool lakeside breeze, wafting wisps for freshly brewed coffee into the room. He groaned, propping himself up on his elbows to take in the sight of the empty room. You were nowhere to be seen. The culprit for all of his aches and pains, bestowed upon him the night before, was gone. “Darling?” he groaned, sitting upright and scratching his chest. His head pounded and his vision hadn’t quite acclimatised to seeing daylight. “You there?”

Shuffling came from the balcony, then you peeked into the room. Only half of your body was visible to him, as you leaned against the door frame.

“Good morning, Daddy.”

Roger’s lips curled into a devilish smirk. The thoughts of everything you got up to on your first night together in Montreux raced through his brain so vividly that his hips got the message straight away. He tilted his head back and eyed you through his lashes as you stepped into the room. “Good morning, Kitten,” he purred.

Perching at the end of the bed, you dragged a hand up Roger’s leg over the sheets. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Sore,” he laughed, giving his shoulder a rub.

You pouted and pondered. “Let me get you a lovely big cup of coffee and I’ll help you work out all those aches and pains,” you said, continuing to massage Roger’s leg.

“That sounds lovely, darling, thank you.”

You wandered back through to the balcony and poured Roger some coffee. So enthralled by your surroundings, the cup almost overflowed. From the way the mid morning sun shimmered over the lake to the snowy peaks of the mountains. This was heaven. And it felt a million miles away from home – and Ibiza. You relished that feeling of giddy optimism as you carried the cup back through to the bedroom to find that Roger was missing.

“Where are you, Roggie?” you called, peering out into the hall.

“Brushing my teeth,” Roger responded through a mouthful of toothpaste. He spat so he could speak more clearly. “And making myself more presentable for you, my love.”

“Don’t be too long,” you grinned, settling down among the covers.

When he arrived back at the bedroom, he hobbled towards you, clutching his aching hip, and pressing at the small of his back. His hair was mussed and messy, and he wore nothing but a short, silk, tiger print robe. And his circular glasses sat daintily perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted, but that didn’t stop you from eagerly patting the space beside you and thrusting the cup of coffee into his hands to get started on the fun part of your morning.

You slunk behind him, wrapping your legs around his body and pressing your chest to his back, dragging the fine layer of material from his body. It slipped down his arms, leaving his top half completely naked under your touch.

Tension radiated from Roger’s body as he sank another mouthful of rich, black coffee to stifle his nerves.

Your fingertips pressed against either side of his back, where his shoulders met his neck and he moaned in bliss. “Sore there?” you asked.

“Mmm, I’m really showing my age, aren’t I?” he laughed.

“Lucky for you, I think there’s something about senior citizens I find particularly alluring,” you joked, working at the knots on his shoulders.

“Fat wallets?”

“Well, I mean, it helps. But fat something else,” you replied.

“God you’re filthy.”

“It’s your fault,” you said, rubbing his back extra hard to make him squeal.

Roger’s voice faltered, coming down from the bolt of pain, quickly succeeded by the loosening of one of the pressure points on his back. “Oh, why’s that?” he asked.

“I used to be an angel before I met you. And now? All I care about is private jets, champagne and getting shagged anywhere, anytime. How’s that for a change.”

Roger leaned back against you, pinning you between himself and the headboard as he looked up at you with his big tired doe eyes. “Well, for what it’s worth, I quite like the new you, Kitten.”

“Is that right?” you laughed, tickling your fingernails over his chest. “How’s your back feeling?”

“Much much better. I swear you’ve got magic hands.”

“And what’s on our agenda for today?”

“I was hoping I could show you around,” he smiled. “We’ve got a whole day before everyone else gets here. And we won’t have a moment to ourselves afterwards.” Then his voice descended into a naughty, mischievous whisper: “So I was hoping, if you’ll let me, we could make the most of it and be absolute heathens for the rest of the day.”

You placed a long, drawn out kiss to the top of Roger’s head and squeezed him tightly. “That sounds absolutely perfect. Especially the part about us being heathens. That suits us down to a tee, don’t you think, Daddy?”

“It really does, Kitten.”

“Well, I’m going to go and get myself ready,” you explained, untying the front of Roger’s robe to reveal his cock, resting against his stomach. Hard and fully erect. “And you can take care of that.”

“Can’t you do it for me?” Roger pouted. “That mouth of yours looks awfully tempting.”

“I’ll tell you what,” you began, “why don’t I let you know when you’re allowed to take care of it? See how long you last?”

“Oh you’re cruel,” he sighed, watching you slip off the bed and wander over to the wardrobe.

Searching through your clothes to find the optimal outfit to tease Roger in, you glanced over your shoulder. He was still sitting there, looking down at his cock, wondering whether he’d risk disobeying you. “I wonder what you’re like when you’re all needy,” you pondered.

“And what happens if I get myself off anyway?”

“I don’t think you want to know, Daddy. You’re right – I can be very, very cruel.”

Dressed and ready to face the day, you and Roger stepped out into the August sunshine. Midday wasn’t far around the corner and the sun bathed the promenade in a brilliant orange glow. Arm in arm, the pair of you strolled down towards the shimmering blue lake.

You turned your head as you walked, catching the smug grin plastered on Roger’s features. Moving closer to him, you purred in his ear. “You’re looking awfully pleased with yourself there, Roggie.”

“I’m out in my favourite town with the woman of my dreams. Why wouldn’t I be pleased with myself?” His voice was hushed, but jovial.

“I think you’ve been naughty, Daddy,” you whispered, leading Roger along the promenade towards the marketplace. “We can’t have that, can we?”

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked without so much as a flicker of fear or apprehension.

You chuckled, continuing to walk as your eyes darted from the revellers to the ornate facades on the lakefront buildings, letting the scenery brush against your sense of awareness, but never fully grasping it. Until, between a restaurant and a hotel, a cobbled alleyway caught your eye. You veered off your tranquil course, leading Roger towards the main road and away from the lake. “You’re going to be very sorry you disobeyed me once today’s over,” you cooed. The alleyway seemed to stretch up to the sky, spurring off into labyrinthine offshoots even darker and quieter than the next. Losing your breath about half way up the cobbled hill, you tugged Roger into an offshoot, pressing him against the wall. “You’re going to be so, so sorry, Daddy.”

Roger raised his eyebrows and scowled. “Just you try it, sweetheart.”

Palming at the bulge in Roger’s jeans with one hand, you pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head and looked up at Roger.

He just let it happen. It was all he could do, staring up at the clear blue sky and chuckling to himself. In his mind, he had everything to be pleased about; he had earned himself a free handjob – maybe more if he played his cards right. But that was all he wanted.

The bustle of the promenade wasn’t far out of earshot and if he allowed you to allow him get too carried away, you risked being found out for the pair of perverts you really were. And he couldn’t let that happen.

But you weren’t going to let him off that easily. Undoing Roger’s jeans, you took his cock out; thick, hard and begging for your attention. Eyeing him up for any sign that he might be enjoying this, you pumped your hand over his length, gathering pace until you could hear each moist pass in your quiet alcove.

Roger sighed, jerking his hips into your grasp when your thumb brushed over the swollen tip. “Fuck,” he hissed, his lower lip clamped between his teeth.

“Enjoying this, Daddy?”

“Oh god, yes, Kitten. Keep going. Be quick.”

An evil flicker bolted through your eyes as you grinned up at him, relishing how worked up he became at nothing at all. “I’m gonna have to use my mouth. I know how much you love that,” you teased, sinking down on to your knees. The cobblestones were uncomfortable at best, but you’d only be in that position for a few minutes. And it’d be worth it, you thought, lapping at the underside of his shaft in lazy, wet strokes, groaning for effect. You felt the muscles in his thighs twinge when you grabbed them to steady yourself. And then his fingers, snaked their way through your hair. He wanted you to take him. To give him what he wanted there and then. But you were in control of this. Moving away from his cock with a pop of your lips and a clear thread of saliva tethering you to him, you got off your knees and wiped your chin.

Roger whined like a wounded animal. “You can’t leave me like this, Kitten!”

“Oh, but I can, Daddy. You didn’t do as you were told this morning,” you scolded, wandering back down the cobbled alleyway, leaving him scrambling to catch up.

“But,” Roger protested, shoving his engorged member back into his jeans, “it’s so fucking obvious. How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Not my problem,” you shrugged. “Where to next?”

Roger’s mouth hung open for a moment, looking around. “We could take a boat to Chateau de Chillon?”

“Is it nice?” you asked, turning to him and placing your hand over your eyes to shield them from the rays.

“It’s gorgeous,” he blustered, leaning in to your ear. “Lots of places for you to finish sucking my cock without getting caught.”

“Whether or not you get to finish is up to me today, remember?” you scolded. “Now which way to the boats?”

Roger paled at how direct you were. How easily you took control. And how you somehow managed to turn his legs to mush with even the slightest telling off. He looked left and he looked right, and then he pointed to a jetty three blocks away. “It’s this way.”

You grabbed Roger’s arm and set off towards the small jetty of tourist boats, bobbing away in the water.

Roger’s efforts to conceal his raging hard-on didn’t go unnoticed by you. He attempted to walk behind you, hoping your handbag would hide his crotch. Then he tried grasping at the hem on his shirt, tugging it down only for it to ride up again. You could tell he was getting flustered, eager to sit down and finally cover the tent in his jeans by crossing his arms protectively over his front. In fact, when you boarded the shabby boat, you swore he had never looked so relieved.

You and Roger sat in silence on opposite sides, exchanging lustful glances the whole way there. Every so often, your gaze trailed down to his crotch, which he so desperately kept covered beneath his hands. You licked your lips and bit them for effect just so you could see your boyfriend squirm in front of a boat full of tourists.

All in all, the journey only took ten minutes but in Roger’s mind, it felt like an eternity. He didn’t care where, or how you did it, all he needed was release. He mentally kicked himself for disobeying you that morning.

Stepping off the boat and on to the wooden jetty, Roger practically dragged you in the direction of the ticket booth, paying for both of your tickets.

“Where to first, Daddy?” you asked innocently.

Roger scanned the courtyard for the one entrance he knew he could count on. His eyes lit up when he found it. “I know just the place, Kitten,” he said excitedly, striding on ahead of you.

You snorted at his eagerness as he took two steep stone steps at a time, descending into the dark bowels of the castle into a deserted cellar.

Roger paused, glancing around. “Let’s go this way,” he ordered, jabbing his finger into the darkness ahead of you both.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere quiet so you can finish me off.”

“No chance,” you jibed.

Roger stopped dead and pushed you against the wall. In the darkness you could just about make out his shoulders rising and falling. “Why don’t we play a game then, darling?” he said, running his hand over your throat so tantalisingly it went straight to your core.

“I love games,” you mocked.

“First one to come today gets a punishment,” he purred, hiking up the hem of your dress. “I wonder how long you’ll last. Oh,” he paused, palming at your slit. “No knickers and a short little dress? I think you’re really trying to tease me.”

That submissive streak inside you simmered away under the surface. “I didn’t think I’d need them,” you sighed, spreading your legs for him. “Seeing how hard you get for me just gets me so wet. I’d have soaked right through them.”

Roger chuckled, and kissed your neck, lulling you into a false sense of security.

It made you wonder when the catch would come. You always suspected Roger had a sadistic streak in him, and you always wondered what it’d be like to push the limits of his happy-go-lucky nature. Maybe today was that day?

But he was so gentle, so careful. Caressing that sweet spot between your legs with feather light touches that earned stifled, breathless moans from you. Never once did his fingers move with any kind of intent, other than to draw you out for as long as possible. And he clearly adored it.

He kept his forehead pressed to yours as he continued to tease you until his fingers were completely coated in your slick. “I think you like this, Kitten,” he whispered.

“I really do, Daddy.”

“Do you want to come?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll let you come if you put that mouth of yours to good use.”

“You’re going to need to try harder,” you sassed.

“I thought you’d say that,” he said in a wicked tone.

Before you could choke out another sassy retort, Roger slipped two fingers inside you, curling them up against that one spot guaranteed to make you squeal his name. Then another finger joined them, stretching you out with squelching wet strokes that cut through the dark, quiet cellar. His fingers fucked you, while his thumb circled your clit in firm motions that ratcheted up the tension in your legs with every single round. “Tell me again how I need to try harder, Kitten?”

You grasped and clawed at his shoulders for stability in the throes of pure ecstasy. “Oh god, not here Daddy!”

Roger chuckled, burying his face against your neck to get better access to all the sensitive skin to drag his teeth over. “That’s what you get for teasing me, Kitten,” he whispered, his breath falling in hot feathery wisps on your skin. “Now, you can finish me here and now, or I can make you come and give you a nice punishment when we get back to the flat tonight.”

“I swear I’ll finish you,” you panted. “Please.”

Roger smirked, removing his fingers from your cunt, leaving them saturated. He pressed them to your lips. “Suck them clean,” he commanded, popping them into your mouth before your brain could register what was going on. “Hopefully this’ll teach you not to get mouthy with me.”

You hummed, wrapping your lips around each finger as he pumped them in and out of your mouth until they were all clean, wishing they were still buried in your dripping snatch. You swore your thighs were a mess by that point. But it didn’t matter. You had to let Roger believe that he was getting exactly what he wanted from you – it was all part of the plan.

You grabbed his hand and started wandering ahead, but Roger stayed firmly rooted to the spot.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“We need to find some privacy, Roger. We can’t do that right here,” you whispered.

“Can’t we?” Roger smirked, nodding towards a short wall in the dark recesses of the cellar. “Pretty sure that’s private enough.”

You tugged your lower lip between your teeth, feeling your heart pounding against your chest. If it beat any more violently, it might have burst right out. You walked slowly behind the wall and got to your knees for the second time that day as Roger joined you, hastily tugging down his zipper and pulling out his cock.

Roger wasn’t planning on playing nice. Grabbing the back of your hair with one hand, while the other wrapped around the base of his cock, he looked down and smirked. “Now, be a good girl and open that gorgeous mouth of yours.”

Before you knew it, he had bottomed out; the tip pushing at the back of your throat. You gagged and spluttered and fumbled for something to steady yourself. You clung to Roger’s thighs for dear life. The pace he had set for you was utterly blistering. The kind of face fucking that instantly sent mascara cascading down your cheeks, and great, long strings of saliva dripping from your chin and on to your chest. The sounds of you gagging on his cock alone were disgustingly lewd; even concealed behind the tiny wall, if a rogue tourist happened upon the cellar, they’d hear the pair of you and know straight away what you were getting up to.

“Such a good little slut, aren’t you Kitten?” he sighed, thrusting into your mouth with reckless abandon and no consideration for the state of your hair, or your makeup. “I love girls who do as they’re told.”

The words pouring from his mouth were sheer filth and it went straight to your cunt. You couldn’t resist reaching down to get yourself off.

But then, Roger tugged you off his cock. Right before any kind of pleasure registered in your brain.

“I didn’t say you could come, did I, Kitten?” he scolded.

You were still panting, trying to suck some air into your lungs, relishing the brief reprieve he offered from his onslaught. Your brain was so cloudy that words weren’t on the agenda.

“Let’s play a game, shall we?” he purred with a sadistic edge. “You get to play with that tight little cunt of yours, and I get to come wherever I like. How does that sound?”

“Sounds reasonable,” you sighed with a delirious smile, your hand returning to your torture, tense cunt. But Roger’s grip on the back of your head pulled your gaze right back up to him.

“There’s one other thing, though, Kitten. Are you listening?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you cooed.

“Wherever I decide to come, you’re not allowed to clean it off until we’ve walked around the entire castle. So you better hope that mouth of yours pleases me, or it’ll be going on that beautiful face of yours.”

You moaned hearing those words. Was he really serious?

You didn’t care. You continued to play with yourself, dutifully opening your mouth to take his cock again.

“Can you imagine what everyone would think if they saw you with spunk dripping down your face, darling?” He groaned; he seemed to know the exact things to say to have you teetering on the edge in seconds flat. “Or maybe I could fuck you. You love feeling it drip down those thighs, don’t you, Kitten?”

Now that was an idea, you thought. Your eyes popped open with enthusiasm as you gave an approving mewl.

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you Kitten?” he taunted, his cock hellbent on making your jaw ache. “Tell me how much you want it.”

Of course you couldn’t manage that. Words were impossible when you were gagged by that thick rod of his stuck down your throat. But that didn’t stop you trying, gurgling a comical, “Fuck me please Daddy,” through the unrelenting mouthful.

“So cute,” he teased. “I didn’t quite catch that, Kitten.”

“Oh my god,” you gurgled again, “please fuck me Daddy.”

Roger laughed, yanking you off his cock. He spoke to you like you were a gorgeous little simpleton – slowly, annunciating every syllable. “English, please, Kitten. Tell me again.”

“Please fuck me,” you whined, your hand working overtime between your thighs.

Then, panic set in. Roger wasn’t focusing on you anymore. Instead, he was busy looking around as the sound of footsteps grew closer. He quickly tucked himself back into his jeans and offered you a hand up.

Your stomach dropped with disappointment.

You quickly wiped the drool off your chin, and power walked out of the cellar and on to the next exhibit in the castle, red face and both of you so frustrated by each other’s teasing that you might have exploded just from walking and holding hands in awkward silence. “Where to next?” you asked him.

“Maybe we should try the armoury?” he sighed. “Might be a bit less busy.”

Clamouring up several flights of stone and wooden steps, you and Roger were horrified to find that the jewel in the crown of Montreux’s most famed tourist attractions in peak season was completely packed. Small children ran amuck in the armoury, enjoying the view and playing around with the wooden toy canons.

It was a sight that could’ve made you and Roger cry.

“Right! Back on the boat,” Roger ordered, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his dark blue jeans and bolting down the wooden steps towards the courtyard.

You struggled to keep up with him as he walked down the stony path towards the jetty to catch the next boat back to Montreux.

“I can’t fucking believe that,” Roger complained. “I was so fucking ready to …”

“Shag my brains out?” you laughed.

Roger’s features changed from bitter frustration to mild agreement, and even, a small meek smile. “Yeah.”

“Where to next,” you began, draping your arm over his shoulder, “Daddy?”

He flicked his eyes over to you and with a devilish smirk, he made his suggestion. “There’s a really good bar on the promenade. And I don’t think they’d bat an eyelid about people shagging in their toilets.”

You laughed, slapping his chest as the boat set sail. You were so ready to give up on the game you were playing. “Haven’t we had enough near misses today?”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Roger began, stepping on to the boat, “I thought we were doing the whole public sex thing now, because my girlfriend’s just realised she’s a bit of a freak!”

You plonked yourself down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I am, but sometimes, you have to make it about the soft stuff, you know?”

Roger raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“I’m kidding! Where is this bar you were talking about? It better be good!”

“Drinks are on me, Kitten,” he said softly, patting your thigh.

You and Roger burst into the opulent bathroom at Funky Claude’s with the verve and roguish impatience of a pair of horny teenagers. You giggled, casting an eye over the decadent restroom to make sure no one was there, before bundling Roger into a stall.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you laughed, hiking your dress up around your hips and planting your hands firmly against the wall at the back of the cubicle.

“Me neither,” Roger responded. This was followed by the hasty unzipping of his jeans, for the third and hopefully final time that day. He spat on his fingers and dragged them over your cunt, still sensitive and glistening invitingly from the torture Roger had bestowed upon you at the castle.

You groaned as Roger eased into you. The way he stretched you tight around his girth and stilled for just a split second made you eagerly clench around him. It didn’t do much. But that was ok. Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head when he finally began to move in tedious passes, every back and forth filled the tiny bathroom stall with slick sounds that would have given the game away, should someone have wandered in while you were mid rut.

Roger’s hips snapped into you with a jagged, purposeful intent, that made you curse and brace harder against the wall in front of you. He clung to your waist with his chest firmly glued to your back, hunching over you like an animal. “Such a tight cunt,” he moaned against your neck. “Touch it for me. Touch your cunt for me, Kitten.”

Those words made your entire body shudder with need. “You do it, Daddy,” you whined.

He chuckled and wrapped one hand around your throat. His free hand slipped between your thighs, seeking out the sensitive little nub he had taken so much pleasure in teasing so harshly before.

Your nails clawed at the wall as another wave ripped through your body. You cursed, loud and unchecked as Roger did his best to bring you to the edge as fast as possible.

But then, you heard the gentle swish of the swing doors to the bathroom. You and Roger stopped dead. His hand moved from your neck to your mouth and his lips pressed to your ear again. “Shhh,” he said, moving his cock painfully slow in. And out.

You blinked and looked around, as if somehow it would make your ears work a bit better in an attempt to track the person’s movements in the stall next to yours. You could hear them shuffle their jeans down. And you heard the stream of urine whizzing out of their bladder. And then their zipper. And a flush. And the taps.

All while Roger continued to fuck you so slowly it made you ache.

Nothing could prepare you for when the hand dryer roared to life. He moved at double the pace as when you were alone, pounding you like he was in heat; his fingers doing the same on your clit until your body convulsed and a loud, pleasure dripping moan escaped you, masked by your fellow bathroom goer drying their hands off after taking a piss.

When they finally left, Roger gave three sharp thrusts, punctuated by guttural grunts with his teeth planted in your shoulder. You could feel him dripping out of you as the pair of you stood there in silence, sandwiched together in your post romp comedown.

“Fuck,” you giggled, making his seed ooze down your thighs as you turned to him. “Can you believe we almost got caught?” Your cheeks burned with humiliation. “Do you think they realised?”

Roger shrugged, tucking his cock back into his tight blue jeans. “It was your idea, Kitten,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “And I for one, actually liked it.”

“That’s reassuring,” you quipped, balling up a wad of toilet paper.

Roger leaned back against the cubicle door and watched, mesmerised as you cleaned yourself up in front of him. Even for you, this was a new level of personal space invasion.

“Staying for drinks?” he asked casually.

You got up and flushed the toilet then turned to him with a wide grin. “Do you think the people out there realised the two of us just blasted in and shagged in their toilets?”

“It probably happens more than you might think,” he shrugged. He turned and unbolted the door, throwing a glance back at you over his shoulder. “You finish titivating yourself and I’ll get them in. They’ve got a great cocktail menu.”

“Will do,” you sighed, following him out of the cubicle and wandering over to the mirror. Mascara was caked around your lashline from Roger’s earlier efforts at putting your mouth to good use and your lipstick was smudged, leaving only your lipliner intact. Not only that but the blistering August sun had made your foundation cling to all those tiny lines on your face that you didn’t want to admit you had. You opened your bag and fished out your make up to try and fix the damage. Your hair would require a bit more effort. Roger loved it messy, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to bear being seen in a fancy place like this with a raging crow’s nest atop your head. And you weren’t even sure you packed a brush. Snapping the emergency hair tie you wore on your wrist, you reckoned that desperate times called for desperate measures, and scooped your hair up into a high ponytail, hoping to god that Roger wouldn’t get the wrong idea and get another boner for you to take care of tonight. Then you swiped on some lipstick, blended out your mascara and your foundation and blotted on some powder to take the shine off. It never ceased to amaze you the wonders that five minutes in a quiet bathroom could do as you puckered up your lips to blot the excess rouge off. You topped it all off with some perfume and you were good to go.

Roger waited patiently at the bar, seductively sucking an olive from a cocktail stick and eyeing the cocktail menu from over the frames of his glasses. His shirt sat askew and his hair stuck up in all directions, but somehow he fitted right in with the opulence of a place like this. You could tell he was a big deal. Sometimes, it took your breath away and made the butterflies resurface all over again, remembering that he was yours and no one else’s.

His eyes lit up when he saw you wander over to him from across the crowded room. Like two strangers on an awkward first date, unsure of how to approach each other. But pleased they had found themselves in the same place at the same time.

For some reason, putting one foot in front of the other was much more troublesome in this situation. Not from a day of wandering around Montreux, but from sheer nerves. Feeling your chest burn, you noticed all eyes in the room were on you; you ran your fingers through your ponytail, smoothed down your dress, and sucked your teeth to make sure nothing was stuck between them. Your heart thudded, wondering what exactly was wrong with you. Why were these people staring?

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a dump like this?” Roger smirked when you finally reached him.

“Fella done me wrong,” you joked, hoisting yourself up on the stool next to him. You stole an olive from the dish in front of him, and elbowed his side.

Roger scanned the room at the people who stared at you. Not looking at you, he smiled. “You’re a real head turner, darling.”

“That’s probably you…” you paused, thinking of your next move.

Why not go with it?

This was the perfect backdrop to the most perfect date you could imagine. Admiring Roger in the glow from the low-hanging lamps over the bar, you asked him your burning question. “Would you like some company for the night?”

Roger turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. He slapped his hand on your thigh and said, “Only if you’ll let me buy you a drink, beautiful.”

He was playing along.

You scooted closer to him, peering over his shoulder to read the menu in his hands, laughing quietly at the names. “I like the sound of a ‘Money,’” you said, pointing to the page.

“I’m loving this ‘Let’s Dance’ one,” Roger replied. “You know, darling, I’m actually friends with Bowie.”

You knew this. You had seen David’s number pop up on Roger’s phone on numerous occasions, and the comments they’d leave on each others’ Instagram posts. But for the sake of going along with your perfect first date, you widened your eyes in shock. Over played, hammy, fake shock. “Really? What’s he like?”

“Oh he’s great. Peculiar guy. Cracking wardrobe.”

“So are you famous or something?” you pressed, beaming at him.

The bartender ducked between you and Roger – he looked like something out of a 1920’s speakeasy, complete with black armband, suspenders and a moustache. “Monsieur Taylor – que désirez-vous?”

Roger stumbled for a moment, with an um and an ah and then, in perfect French he ordered. “Je voudrais un Money, et pour la dame, une Let’s Dance s’il vous plait.”

“D’accord Monsieur.”

Something about Roger speaking French went straight to your legs; or rather, the spot between them. “You haven’t answered my question,” you prodded, looking visibly flustered by Roger’s linguistic prowess, and squeezing your thighs together for good measure.

“You could say that, darling,” he said, shovelling a handful of nuts into his mouth. “I’m the drummer in a rock band.”

“Oh so you’re a rockstar?” you cooed. “Will I have heard of you?”

“I don’t know, darling. Ever heard of Queen? We’re kind of a big deal,” he boasted in a charmingly modest fashion.

“So that’s where I’ve seen you!” you said with wide eyes. “Personally, I’ve always thought they were kind of shit.”

Roger didn’t know how to respond to that. So instead he did that thing he usually did, where he desperately moved his lips as his usually sharp and nimble brain played a game of catchup. It lasted a few awkward seconds where all you wanted to do was to break character and yell ‘kidding’ at him. But eventually, he changed the subject. “What brings you to Montreux, darling?” he asked, resting his head against his hand as he leaned on the bar and gazed adoringly at you.

“Just some bloke, really,” you sighed.

“Really? And here was me thinking I had a chance,” he pouted. “What’s your man like?”

You lowered your eyebrows and flashed him a smile that made him instantly wish he had never even asked that question. “Well,” you hummed, “he’s lovely. I met him on Tinder, and if you ask me, he’s far too old to be on there. But anyway, I let all that slide. Gave him a chance.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because he’s everything I could ever want. Shorter than I thought from his pictures, though. Still tall enough. Handsome. Great dress sense. He’s surprisingly intelligent, considering how beautiful he is. And, here’s the kicker. He has the most devilish, vile sense of humour I’ve ever encountered.”

“He sounds like a catch,” Roger sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He is. I’ve only been with him a short while and he’s completely changed my life for the better. I’m so much more confident because of him. But anyway, why are you here?” you asked, turning to face him and shuffling in your seat.

“A woman.”

“What’s she like?”

“Well, she’s the polar opposite of my ex wife and the kind of woman I should’ve married. So sensible and carefree at the same time. And she really makes me want to be better, you know? I never felt like I could have a life with my ex wife. But this girl. God, she’s got me thinking about it. I don’t know if I’ve missed the boat with all the settling down business. I hope not. Because she’s all I want.”

“And yet you’re in a fancy bar, buying a strange girl a very overpriced drink?” you asked with a wink.

“I think we’ve met before,” he sighed, closing his eyes ever so slightly.

“I think so too,” you said.

Roger turned his gaze towards the bartender, watching him as he made your drinks. You could barely hear the sounds that came out of his mouth. But his lips sure as hell looked like they were saying something important.

Like: “I love you.”

>> NEXT >>

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #queen

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thetailorofenbizaka · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1–The Tale of the Scissors, Act 3: Reunion; Scene 2

The Tailor of Enbizaka, pages 74-82

I don’t know why Kayo would say things like that. I had thought perhaps that you might have pulled some trick on her mind, but I still haven’t reached a conclusion at that.

The only thing I’m certain of is the event that spurred her on to start talking like her husband was alive.

--That was hardly any time at all after the two of you had swapped bodies.

That day, Kayo was going for an aimless walk outside for the first time in a while, without any work to do.

She had likely wanted to go around and see the sights of Enbizaka after it had recovered from the fire.

Enbizaka was erected along a long hill in the center of Onigashima, and a lot of the people who worked as merchants in Onigashima had shops set up along this hill neighborhood.

Almost all of the people who lived here were foreigners, or else mixed-race people who had foreign and Jakokuan genes.

What was more, there were not a lot of people among those who were walking along the road who had the Jakokuan feature of black hair. People with hair of various colors and shades like red, brown, green, and even white, passed through as though it was normal.

And so, Kayo’s newly pink hair was not something that turned a lot of heads.

The most conspicuous sign of Enbizaka’s foreigner culture were the foreign trading houses that stood at the top of the hill.

Starting with those of Freezis and Yarera, there were many representatives for firms doing business with Jakoku who had taken up residence in Enbizaka.

A little way away from the trading houses there was the Enbizaka execution site.

It’s said that this place was created as a sort of warning, as the crimes being committed by foreigners in Onigashima were rapidly increasing around the time the island was first established. Even now criminals would sometimes be taken there from the mainland to be executed, but for Kayo this place had very little to do with her.

As she walked down the hill, Kayo gazed at the neighborhood that had regained the same liveliness that it had held four years before, and wore a peaceful expression on her face.

When she reached the bottom of the hill, there was Soukyou bridge.

Once you passed over this curved bridge made of stone and headed down the middle road from there, there was the Miroku shop that sat just along the street. This was the only bridge that connected Enbizaka to the middle road, and as such there were always a lot of people passing through.

It was right after she’d set foot on Soukyou bridge.

Kayo suddenly came to a stop.

Her eyes were opened wide, and she was fixedly staring at a blue haired man on the far end of the bridge.

At that moment, he was leaning on the handrail and looking at the river dreamily, not appearing to notice that Kayo was staring.

“Ah…Aaah…”

Kayo stood there for a time, open-mouthed.

And as she did so the man started to quickly walk in the opposite direction from where she was.

Kayo flusteredly moved to chase after him, but his form was soon buried in the throng of people, and eventually she could no longer see him,

Mournfully coming to a halt, Kayo then murmured, “He’s—alive.”

Kayo must have seen a trace of her dead husband in this man that she’d never met before—that was what I thought at the time.

Because it was after this event had happened that Kayo started to speak to everyone as though her husband had survived.

However…from what I could see, that blue haired man looked hardly anything like Kayo’s husband.

If I had to come up with any similarities, I suppose I could say that his left hand had burn scars on it that were similar to those on Kayo’s husband.

I became curious about that man, and started to search for his whereabouts.

While being inside the scissors I am able to see all of Enbizaka, and as such it wasn’t that difficult for me to locate him.

--When I first found him, he was inside that Freezis Trading House.

He was in the middle of having some conversation with the house’s owner, Perrier, sitting opposite her at the table.

“It’s rare to SEE YOU come here YOURSELF,” Perrier laughed, offering him some tea.

“Oh no, it’s really quite embarrassing...I usually leave all outside matters to my wife, staying cooped up at home with work, you see. Today she’s been a little under the weather, so I’ve come to deliver our goods in her stead,” the man replied, smiling.

From the way he carried himself, I could tell that he was a merchant of some kind.

“She SICK? You must WORRY.”

“Oh no, it’s nothing terribly major. My wife’s father works as a doctor, so he examined her and told us it was just a cold. She should be better by tomorrow.”

“Thank GOODNESS for THAT!” As she spoke, Perrier set out a bundle of koban coins before him. “…RIGHT, well, HERE’S PAY.”

“Thank you kindly. I’ve already placed the textiles and kimono you ordered in your cellar. –I hope for your continued patronage.”

“Jakoku kiminos are having BOOM in Maistia RIGHT NOW! And you REALLY HELP OUT by bringing us such GOOD PRODUCT all the time, MIROKU SHOP-SAN! …Though wish you could increase amount you DEAL with us...” Perrier groused, resting her chin on her hands.

“…Even this amount has been a bit much for us. Understand that with our national isolation policies, the amount of resources we’re allowed to send to foreign countries like this is harshly regulated.”

“The shogunate should stop being so STUBBORN and OPEN COUNTRY already! I SAYING THAT for YEARS but they NOT LISTEN!”

In contrast to Perrier’s excitement, the man replied with a warm smile, “I know your feelings, Perrier-sama…But foreigner though you are, calling for this country to ‘open its borders’…I wonder if that’s wise.”

“…? WHY?”

“There is an extremist group in Jakoku called the ‘Crimson Robed Masses’.” The man launched into an explanation of this group with a quiet countenance. “They engage in all kinds of harassment for those that call for open borders and the foreigners that live in Jakoku, and I’ve heard that from time to time they’ve even gathered together and committed raids. If you were to attract the attention of such a crew—”

“Oh, I KNOW about THEM. Been sent LOTS of threats. …BUT! I IGNORE them! A Freezis does not YIELD to mere THREATS!”

“I see—well, I’m not too far removed from the issue myself, as my wife and I have foreign ancestry…But in any case, I hope to be able to maintain good business dealings with the Freezis Foundation Firm in the future. If you have any requests, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

Perrier appeared to think for a moment at the man’s offer, and then returned, “If there nothing to do about not raising textile and kimino export number...As for request, we NEED craftsman who can tailor clothes to kimono locally, and repair tattered and torn kimono. We have tailors in Maistia, but they don’t know ANYTHING about Jakoku kimono, and all FUMBLING at everything.”

“Regarding tailors…ours is just a family-run shop, so it would be a bit beyond us to send someone of those talents to Maistia--

“…I hear THERE other GOOD TAILORS in ENBIZAKA. I met one MYSELF a bit ago—I THINK my MAID called her SUDOU.”

The man appeared to think for a moment, and then finally replied, “Ah, yes, the Sudou wi—”

“You know HER?”

“Oh no, apparently my parent and her parent were once good friends long ago, but the two of them got into some sort of feud…The connection between our families has been severed since then, publicly. My wife doesn’t know about all this, and will sometimes ask her to do work, but I’ve never actually met her myself.”

“I SEE.”

“Well, a dispute between our parents has little to do with me, of course. I myself am a homebody by nature, so it’s more that I just haven’t had the opportunity to meet her.”

“I thought MAYBE if you GOOD FRIENDS you could introduce us, but from SOUND OF THINGS that be hard.”

“I believe she gets along fairly well with my wife, so you ought to ask her about it next time she comes up here—oop, look at the time,” the man said, taking a glance at an ostentatious clock of foreign make that had been hung up on the wall. “I should head back before long.”

“RIGHT. I SHOULD head to PORT soon too.”

“Are you sailing off again? It’s awfully late…”

“It’s MERMAID! I go CATCH MERMAID!”

“…Oh, a mermaid, hm? I suppose I have heard legends that there is a mermaid living in the seas around Onigashima, but—”

“I HEAR that you EAT MERMAID and become IMMORTAL! If we CATCH AND RAISE IT, it’ll make killing on mainland! I not let such DRAMATIC business chance SLIP AWAY!” Perrier shouted, having at some point gotten an enormous harpoon around and in her hand.

“…Well then, good luck with that. I’ll see myself out.”

The man left the trading house, a faintly amazed expression on his face.

From there the man headed down the hill. At that point I had already pretty much figured out who he was, but I continued to observe him.

After he had descended the hill and crossed Soukyou Bridge, he advanced through the middle road—and then walked inside the Miroku shop.

“Welcome home, Daddy.”

Rin was the one to greet him.

“Good to see you, Rin. How is Mommy?”

“She’s still resting, but I think she’s got a lot better.”

“I see…Where has Miku gone?”

“Mnn…She’s still at Kiji-san’s, I think.”

The moment he heard that, the man’s face rapidly grew stern. “That disgusting foreigner…I expressly forbid you from ever interacting with that brute!”

“Yelling at me’s not gonna help…And I don’t think Kiji-san is that bad a guy?”

“No means no!”

As he yelled in anger, the man retreated further into the shop.

The man’s name was Miroku Kai.

He was the head of the Miroku household.

That meant that Kayo had become convinced that a man with a wife and children was her husband—

But I had no way of telling Kayo that she was mistaken.

The only thing I could do was continue to watch over her.

<<prev------directory------next>>

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fallenfurther · 4 years

Text

Virgil’s second topiary lesson

Another Post Buried Treasure Fic. I just couldn’t have Virgil not meet up with the groundskeeper again, who I’ve named Mr Greene, mainly for his green fingers though I realised halfway through the significance in relation to Virgil. I blame the early shift at work for that one not registering. Enjoy!

****

Virgil landed Tracy Two on the private runway and taxied her into the reserved area. He stepped off the plane into the cool morning air and sighed. He'd been looking forward to this day for a while. It was almost three months since the rescue had cause a sinkhole in the reclaimed land and he was looking forward to seeing it at its best again. He'd made sure they paid for the restoration of the area. The tunnel had been shored up to stop future cave-ins and the ground that had caved in had been covered over and a fresh topsoil added. It should look as it did before.

Virgil was currently driving to the park to meet up with Mr Greene, the Groundskeeper. They'd kept in contact since his impromptu topiary lesson and Virgil had apologised profusely for what had happened to his shrubs. Thankfully the swift work to put the damage right, had put Virgil, and to some extent International Rescue, back in Mr Greene’s good books. Yesterday the new bushes had arrived, and Mr Greene had agreed to let Virgil join him in shaping them. Virgil parked up and headed over to where the groundskeeper was waiting for him.

"I'm glad to see you didn't bring those machines with you." Mr Greene joked as he shook Virgil's hands.

"Me too. Hopefully they'll stay safely in their hangers for the rest of the day. Now, let's see what we have to work with. What's the theme we have to stick to?" Virgil rubbed his hands together. He was ready for a busy creative day and couldn’t wait to get started.

“It’s the same as before, seeing as no one got to see it last time, but thanks to your generous donation there’s more to do. They want three centrepieces for the area that got destroyed and an animal parade leading up to it. There are four trees and seven bushes that need to be shaped.”

“We’d better get to it then.”

Virgil followed Mr Greene along the sculpted paths that ran through the manicured lawns. There were birds in the trees and butterflies flying around the flowers, and with the wind and birdsong being the dominant sounds, it was peaceful. It was hard to believe that beneath their feet was centuries old rubbish and active mining! They stopped at a path that they would be focusing on. Looking down it, Virgil could see the lawn that had caved in last time he was there and the three large bushes that were to become the new centrepieces. Mr Greene stood and pointed to the trees as he spoke.

“The animals along the path will be in pairs, one on each side. First will be the wolves and then the next will be meerkats. After that will be a bear with penguins at the front. The animals weren’t my choice, they were voted on by the local children.” Mr Greene clearly didn’t like the idea of penguins; he’d screwed his face up as he said the word. “The three centrepieces will be a giraffe, an elephant and a gorilla. We’ll start with the path. We’ll do one of each of the pairs, at the same time, so I can give you pointers and advice as we go along. Sound reasonable?”

“Yes.” Virgil smiled. There was a lot to do and he was nervously excited that his work was going to be displayed alongside that of a professional. He hoped the kids approved.

Mr Greene had laid out the tools of the trade by the first bush, and Virgil climbed into the protective overall that had been provided. Picking up the shears he stood by the bush, ready to receive the instructions on how to best shape a wolf. Mr Greene gave him clear instructions, which Virgil followed, though he did give Virgil a little leeway, here and there, to put his own spin on things. Soon the wolves had taken shape, and they swapped to the secateurs to do the finer trimming and neatening. Once Mr Greene had given his wolf the once over, they swapped sides and started on meerkats. A simpler shape than the wolves, and with less leaves to trim away to reveal the animal, they were finished much quicker. Again, they swapped sides, and started on the bears. These were much bigger, and ladders were required to reach the tops. Mr Greene finished first and gave him encouragement from below. Virgil carefully snipped away at the top, shaping the ears and the snout. He wiped his brow on his sleeve as the sun’s glare warmed his brow. Once satisfied, he climbed down the ladder and let Mr Greene up to inspect his work. A few small cuttings, and his mentor was satisfied.

“How about we break for lunch?” Mr Greene said as he reached the bottom of the ladder. “I’ve packed us a few bits which we can eat in the shade of the trees.”

Virgil’s stomach growled in response, his focus on his work having distracted him from his hunger. He hadn’t eaten anything since he’d left the island.

“That sounds fantastic.”

Virgil followed Mr Greene down the path and further into the gardens. They headed into a hedged off area and he found himself in a secret garden with a large apple tree at its centre. Beneath the tree was a couple of cool boxes. Mr Greene sat down, opened one up and handed him a bottle of chilled water. Virgil took it gladly and gulped down the water. It’s cool touch on his parched lips was heavenly. Virgil plonked himself down by Mr Greene as the man passed him a box. Inside were ham and cheese sandwiches.

“I’ve got some sandwich pickle in the cool box if you want some. Not everyone’s a fan, but I love a good bit of pickle in my sandwiches.”

“I’m good. My brother, Gordon, the blond one, is the big pickle fan in our family.” Virgil smiled as he bit into a sandwich, thinking of all the times he’d watched Gordon make one of his sandwiches. His brother always tried fit as much as possible between the slides of bread. As he ate, Mr Greene laid out mini-sausages, tomatoes, radishes, celery sticks and a sharing bag of crisps. Virgil tipped a few crisps into the box with his last sandwich and grabbed a few tomatoes, popping one in his mouth. He avoided the celery. Years of sitting next to Gordon crunching Celery Bars meant he’d gone off it.

“How are you finding the topiary today? You’re doing very well for a beginner. You’ve a real eye for detail, and how you want the shape to be.”

Virgil took the compliment with a smile, “It’s great. I love creating things. I paint, when I get the chance, and I find this is just another way of expressing and revealing the images that can form in your head. At least, that’s how it works for me. I see the image of the bear, you tell me how it should be standing, where its arms need to be, and I picture it in my head. Then it’s just working out how to translate that image into the bush. I’m loving the 3D aspect of it.”

Mr Greene chuckled, and it was strange but good to see the lightness in his face normally stern face. “You have a way with words young man! I wish others saw this like you do. When the area is open to the public, people waltz in with their phones in their hands, gaze and gape, take a few photos then move on. They barely stop to truly see what’s before them, and they certainly don’t think about all the effort that’s gone into it. It’s why you don’t get so many people doing it nowadays. It’s considered old-fashioned and a relic from the days of nobility.” Mr Greene sighed.

Virgil sat back and thought about it. There were parts of it that made sense. As an artist he could appreciate the effort that goes into the production of a sketch or painting, and some of his brothers understood that. Yet when he dragged Alan to an art gallery, he’d whizz around it before getting bored, and Virgil was never quite sure how much the boy had taken in.

“I can see where you’re coming from. But at least they are taking an interest and getting out of the city. This place is amazing, and even if they take just a little bit of that home with them, then we’ve done our job right.” Virgil ate another tomato before continuing, “and just look at this little garden. I’ll remember this moment forever. It’s secluded and peaceful, the flowers have been carefully chosen to highlight the area and bring your attention to exactly where it needs to be to highlight its beauty.”

Mr Greene sat a little straighter, “Well, I did try my best. It wasn’t easy, mind you, to convince the higher-ups to see my vision. But once people come here, they’ll trust me.”

They finished their meal, which was completed with homemade banana bread, while discussing artists and beautiful places. When all was eaten, they packed up and headed back to their bushes. Mr Greene passed Virgil a straw hat, to keep the sun off his neck and out his eyes, for which Virgil was grateful. They made light work of the penguins, and then they started on the centrepieces. Mr Greene asked him to get the basic outline for the elephant done, while he started on the gorilla, which was to stand in the middle. Virgil worked away, losing track of time. He finished his rough outline and got Mr Greene’s approval to continue. Trimming closer, he got out the secateurs and started clipping the detail into the ears and face. He smoothed out the body and trunk, making sure it curved in just the right way. Standing back, he gazed up at his handiwork.

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” Mr Greene’s voice came from behind him. Virgil turned around, a contented grin on his face, and looked at Mr Greene. Except Virgil’s gaze fell on the bush behind the man. His jaw dropped. It was a male silverback gorilla, made entirely from one bush. Mr Greene had managed to sculpt most of it, and it was breath-taking in its detail. The hands were still a work in progress, but it was the face that caught his attention. The gorilla was gazing straight down the path and had such a dignified look on it’s face.

“That good, huh? I have a soft spot for gorillas. Used to draw them all the time as a boy, and although I don’t do it much anymore, I still have that soft spot or the apes.”

“It’s incredible.” Virgil slowly walked around it, taking in the way it had been cut, trying to work out how it had appeared from the ordinary bush which has been there just hours previously.

“Thank you. How about you try the giraffe? Be careful with the neck, that’s the tricky part. I’ll come join you once I’ve finished the hands, and we might get it all done before sundown.”

Virgil nodded, not quite ready to take his eyes of the gorilla. With a renewed determination to master the art to that kind of level, Virgil walked towards the last untouched bush as made the first snip with the shears. Mr Greene soon joined him, and they made light work of it, and soon the giraffe appeared. True to his word, the sun was low in the sky when they had finished. Virgil slipped out of the overall and placed the shears, hat and secateurs into Mr Greene’s wheelbarrow.

“I’ll clear up the cuttings tomorrow.” Mr Greene said as he picked up the cooler boxes and Virgil pushed the wheelbarrow towards the exit. When they reached the carpark, Virgil placed in down and shook Mr Greene’s hand.

“Thank you so much for today. It was fantastic.”

“You’re welcome, young man, and if I need a hand or inspiration, I know who to call.” Mr Greene gave Virgil a smile before heading off towards the groundskeeper’s shed. Virgil sat in the car; his body was exhausted. It definitely wasn’t safe to fly, and he was thankful he had planned to stay the night in a hotel. A quick call to John to confirm everyone was okay, and he drove off. A shower and some clean clothes and Virgil lay in the bed with his sketchpad. Despite the exhaustion, he sketched a few different views of the secret garden, though his favourite was the view from under the tree. He added a few extra details to it before yawning. Another yawn and Virgil knew he was done for the night. He placed the pad on the bedside table, pulled the covers over himself and turned off the light. His mind was full of flowers, gardens and shaped bushes which he knew would fill his dreams. He closed his eyes and hoped there were no callouts tomorrow. He wanted to start on his painting of the secret garden, hoping to permanently capture its beauty in paint.

#thunderbirds are go #virgil tracy #groundskeeper #buried treasure #topiary

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