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#I already loved your art an inordinate amount but this
fayes-fics · 1 year
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It Had To Be You: Upcoming Fic Excerpt
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Rating: Teen and Up, except one chapter which could be skipped
Summary: Modern AU romcom. A love story heavily inspired by When Harry Met Sally.
Note: Hi all, as a Valentine's Day gift to you all, I present below the opening scene of my upcoming multi-chapter - It Had To Be You. I plan to start publishing this in March. I hope you enjoy <3
UPDATE: full fic is now posted HERE
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12 Years Ago
When you pull up outside her halls of residence, she has her tongue down some man’s throat—typical Gen. 
She finally acknowledges your presence when you lower the window and cough pointedly. A few days ago, when she said her latest boyfriend needed a lift from St Andrews to London, you didn't offer; she volunteered him to join you before you could conjure a believable excuse. Someone to talk to on the long journey wouldn't be such a bad thing; you tried to convince yourself reluctantly. You were slightly worried about who he might be. Gen’s taste in men could be best described as random. Or questionable if you were feeling less charitable. But as he turns towards you, something in your chest flutters. 
Oh. 
He looks different to her usual choices. He appears rich, just from a glance. But the sort of rich that dresses in ratty clothes as a style choice rather than out of economic necessity. His jeans are distressed around the knees, and there’s an almost threadbare patch right around his rather shapely - don't look there, you admonish yourself - arse. He wears a faded grey t-shirt and converse that are speckled with paint.
“Y/n, meet Ben,” he nods briefly before she pulls him back for another completely inappropriate kiss.
Ben...? Really, Gen? Matching names is a bit too fucking twee.
As they break away, he tosses his bags in the boot of your car and, after another round of tonsil tennis, climbs into your passenger seat. He smiles crookedly, and you see his blueish eyes catch a ray of late Spring sun; his voice instantly makes you shift in your seat as you exchange hellos. Definitely a posh boy. Definitely a playboy. Definitely not the type to keep his bed empty for long. You already dislike him. You especially dislike how attractive your body seems to find him, despite yourself.
This is going to be a long journey.
“You want to drive the first shift?” you ask politely.
“You are already there,” he shrugs, “go right ahead.”
As Gen becomes a waving figure in your rearview mirror, something tells you you will likely never see her again. It's that time when life goes in a million different directions—the end of university. You've been here for your undergraduate course. Apparently, he has been here for his master's in Fine Art. 
“What takes you to London?” he asks as you pull out of the university grounds.
“I'm going to be a journalist,” you state proudly.
He laughs. “You and the rest of the world.” 
You bristle at his amusement. You are a talented writer; you know it will happen for you someday. You have a summer internship at the Guardian. Okay, it's unpaid, but it's a start.
“You?” you shoot back, squinting in the sun.
“Artist. I’m setting up a studio in Hoxton.”
Urgh. That's so achingly trendy you actually want to smack him.
Your phone buzzes, and you check it discreetly at the next traffic light. It's from Gen.
I know exactly what you are thinking. Posh boy twat. His cock is amazing though. Safe travels x
You squeak and drop your phone into the footwell. Ben cuts you a curious sideways glance. 
“I can grab it,” he offers rather chivalrously as he sees you groping blindly around your feet as the light turns green.
“No!” you startle, “it's fine, just uhh leave it there, I don't need it. I know the way to Edinburgh from here.” your voice takes on a high-pitched quality that sounds ridiculous even to your own ears.
He seems to stare at your profile for an inordinate amount of time.
“Gen said you were a little high-strung,” he says drolly.
You frown over at him. “I'm just particular,” you argue back.
He laughs and looks out the window. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Yes, I do,” you prickle, “that’s a disgusting habit, and you should give it up.”
“She said you were opinionated too,” he adds, his tone so casual and laid back it just makes you more wound up.
“My car, my rules,” you retort, glancing irritated in your rearview at the lorry getting far too familiar with your rear bumper.
“That's fair enough.” 
He suddenly lunges for something in the backseat, twisting, so his t-shirt rides up, his whole body thrust towards you. You see a flash of toned abdominal muscle and a tantalising line of hair disappearing into his jeans.
You quickly cut your eyes back to the road and have to slam on the brake not to hit the car in front, praying momentarily that the lorry behind is paying more attention than you are. Damn him. 
“Fucking hell!” he exclaims, falling back into his seat and grabbing the dashboard to right himself.
“Sorry,” you mumble, knowing you are blushing. “Can you please not do that when I'm driving?”
“Do what?” he feigns ignorance, but you can tell he knows exactly what just happened, the cocky bastard.
“Climb into the backseat,” you grumble.
“I leaned back to grab something; I didn't climb anywhere,” he disputes, shaking a packet at you. “This is for your benefit, I might add,” he says pointedly, ripping open the box and fishing out a nicotine patch.
“Well, just sit still, please,” you huff, spying a flash of very shapely bicep out of the corner of your eye as he rolls up the sleeve and slaps on the patch.
“Yeah, not highly strung at all,” he mutters under his breath.
Yep. You absolutely want to kick him.
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azareeart · 8 months
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Well, well, well. Look who's here again! It's your friendly neighborhood art writer. I took a bit longer to finish this article because trying to write about the “Painting with my eyes closed” exhibition by Youssef Raouchi at the Ada Contemporary gallery in Accra turned into a staring contest with a blank page. But I finally won, and you'll see why it was worth the struggle once you're done reading this.
As soon as I learned about the "Painting With My Eyes Closed" exhibition, I made plans with a friend to see it together. The gallery was painted in a stunning shade of blue, and honestly, It was a refreshing departure from the standard white walls of most galleries. The blue color brought an exciting energy to the room and the paintings. It wasn’t too bright or distracting, just enough to keep your senses engaged, it was just right.
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The first painting I saw had me feeling a little puzzled. I had already decided to write about this exhibition, so I was looking out for anything I could use as inspiration. I hadn't read anything about the artist or her paintings though, because I felt reading other opinions could taint your perspective. I prefer to draw my own conclusions, you know? But I digress. As I stared at the painting, I thought to myself, "hmm, this is really different." Then, I turned to the left and looked again at the title of the exhibition: "Painting With My Eyes Closed." And suddenly, everything made sense.
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Initially, the painting seemed pretty chaotic, with a mix of random subjects that looked like they were drawn by a child with a box of crayons. However, the longer I looked at it, the more it felt nostalgic. This painting was like a time machine, transporting me back to the days when life was all about pretty colors and drawings. It felt like a warm, fuzzy memory from childhood, like something I’d drawn before or seen in a children's book. It's amazing how art can have such an incredible power to take us to another time and place, and this painting did just that. Suddenly, I was seven again, and my only worry in life was my homework. But let's be real, I'm a super serious student and probably already finished it (don't hate, appreciate). It was such a lovely feeling to revisit that time and appreciate the moment once again. Thank you, Youssra, for that little trip down memory lane.
The next set of paintings however, were rather dark and spooky. From headless men to women in contorted positions, they all had a theme of confusion and disorientation. It was hard to understand what the artist was thinking when they created this series. Just when I thought I understood one painting, the next one was completely different. My friend loved those paintings though, and that made me realize that these eerie works did in fact have an intended audience. Even though I didn't fully appreciate that style, it was fascinating to see how subjective art can be.
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The painting that stole my heart had a vibrant red background, which brought balance and order to the chaos. As a nature lover, I was immediately drawn to a smaller image in the painting that looked like a photograph of a serene blue sky and lush greenery by a perfect little pond. It was like a little oasis on the wall, and I was ready to pitch a tent and move in. The painting was definitely neater than the others, with straight edges and clean finish lines. I stared at it for an inordinate amount of time, but when you find something that speaks to your soul, you just have to bask in its glory, right?
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As I was admiring the clean and calm painting, I couldn't help but think that the artist deliberately made the others messy. It's like she's saying, "I could be perfect, but where's the fun in that?" I feel like that’s what makes art so special. It's a space where you can be as wild, unconventional, or messy as you want to be, and still find people who resonate to it. It's like a free pass to be as crazy as you want, without having to explain yourself to anyone. Life should be more like art, don't you think? We should all be free to express ourselves without fear of judgment or ridicule. Whether you're into bright red paintings or eerie contorted figures, there's always someone out there who shares your passion.
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So, after struggling to come up with something for my article on this particular show, I ran into Youssra Raouchi, the artist, at another exhibition. She told me that the Ada Gallery website had an article up about her style of work and the series that I had seen earlier. I immediately checked it out because, let's be real, I was in desperate need of some serious help. The write up mentioned that her style was based on a philosophy called rhizome. I had no idea what that meant, so I did some digging. Turns out Rhizome is a philosophy created by French theorists Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari. It's a way of thinking about things that involves a network of different ideas that can grow in different directions, rather than following a straight line.
Everything suddenly clicked! The paintings weren't related to each other in any way and seemed incoherent because they were meant to be that way. That's why I was having such a hard time coming up with a common concept to describe the different types of paintings that were on display. Youssra, you totally over delivered on the assignment! The intense chaos in some of the paintings and the rather aesthetic and calming vibe the other ones exuded showed how freely flowing and non-conforming this particular body of work is. I found it really inspiring, because life is indeed very much like that. It's a mixture of varying feelings at any given point in time, and the artist being able to evoke those reactions & take us on that journey of sensations is truly impressive.
I absolutely loved the whole experience and the wild ride of emotions it took me through. If you’re trying to find some colorful adventure in your life, then you have until the 6th of August, to see the painting with my eyes closed exhibition at the ADA gallery in the villagio apartments building. I’d really love to hear what you think about it. You can find me on Instagram on @azareeart, where I post updates on current and upcoming exhibitions, photos from the shows & every artsy thing in between!
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narsh-poptarts · 2 years
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So I heard you like the Protomen :] ? I was scrolling through the very sparse tag in the recents and saw your answer to an ask and dudeeeee your art ROCKS!!!! I’ve never known anyone who’s been as into it as me? They got me into Mega man with their face melting rock and roll and Aughhh I just have never had someone to gush to about them so I just yeah! What’s your favorite song by them?? Or character idk, what do you like about it in general???
YEEEAAAHHH THERE’S MORE WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
HONESTLY!!!! there’s so much to love!!!!!!!!!!!! a lot of the story and vibes of the protomen are just AMAZING and that’s part of what drew me in!!! and just. rock music in general i was already really liking at the time so having rock AND one of my interests wrapped into one?? OH YEAH BABEYYYY
favorite song is honestly REALLY difficult to pick, but i can give some favs, Will of One and Vengeance from act 1 and then the Hounds used to be my all time fav for a while (i actually cosplayed Wily once haha) but Keep Quiet and Light Up the Night are also BALLER AS HELL!!!!!!! (i discovered that my friend didn’t know that there’s a music video for Light Up The Night so if you also didn’t know that, PLEASE check it out, it’s really good)
as for character!!!! gosh for a long time i didn’t really have a favorite but now my fav is THOMAS LIGHT. out of all the iterations of Dr. Light out there, he has to be my favorite. tired old man who has spent an inordinate amount of time grieving various things
but honestly??? all in all my favorite thing is just. listening through all of it. every song is just an absolute banger. another!!! thing i like doing is uh. i have a playlist where i take their Cover Up album and Act 2 and mash em together cuz like?? i’m pretty sure Cover Up takes place during act 2 and there are DEFINITELY story beats that line up really really nice. listening to that playlist of mine definitely made my love for Thomas Light grow. he’s such an interesting character!!!!!!
their story is just so so good, i could never regret getting into it
i cannot wait to go to a concert of theirs, i’m so sad i missed their tour recently o|<
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rahadaddy · 2 years
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Hi yes can I have uhhhh... Ireena and Ez for the character bingo, if you're still doing those? Absolutely love the insights AND the rants honestly, never stop.
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Ireena is done SO DIRTY by canon and fans alike. I used to spend an inordinate amount of time on Re.d.d.it and because canon can't be assed to give her a statblock/about page/personality, so many DMs whine that their players don't like Ireena, want to leave her behind, want to give her to Strahd, etc. It's your job as the DM to make her likable enough for the party to want or need. I can't stress that enough. Nine times out of ten, if your party doesn't like Ireena or doesn't have a stake in her plot, that's your fault as the DM. At worst she's a McGuffin with a personality and at best, she's a dynamic part of your team. Either way, it's your JOB as the DM to bring something to her and if you can't, there are a bunch of really cool templates the likes of MandyMod, DragnaCarta, LBH, and others have put forward.
Another way the fans have done her dirty: whitewashing her. The book art uses a woman of color for Ireena and I've seen a lot of fanart of her that's really beautiful but that isn't IReena because it's a white woman and it leaves me conflicted. I don't know when I should speak up and when I shouldn't on this issue as a White Latina. I actually feel that as someone who walks in both the White world and the Mexican/Chicana/Latina one, I'm in a perfect position to call people out for this because I like to think I have the sensitivity to say what needs to be said without being cruel as well as the social positionality to be "an authority" on erasure. Representation matters and whether you play Ireena as the demure, Disney princess or the sword-slinging badass, it might be a woman of color's turn to get to inhabit roles that we so often give to white heroines. The only real problematic thing with that is, you know, being preyed on by a vampire because marginalized women are already preyed on by men in power so it's not exactly escapist fantasy.
(Bear with me, I just woke up to take my dog to the vet and I haven't had my morning round of caffeine).
I think a lot of this is canon's fault at the end of the day for, as I said, not giving DMs as much to work with for Ireena as they do for other characters. I think we know more about Piddlewick II than we do Ireena. How fucked is that? By inferencing based on her circumstances, the demands of the plot, the characterization of Ismark, and the characterization of Strahd, a determined DM should be able to piece together an idea of who and what Ireena is.
I've heard interesting theories about Ireena/Tatyana from different DMs over the years and have seen her importance to campaigns wax and wane over the years. However, I saw a good rule of thumb for RAW campaigns and campaigns that follow more traditional modules: If you don't know how Ireena feels about a situation, you don't know how your PCs feel about it either. In many ways, Ireena is the heart of CoS, the closest thing to a protagonist we are given besides the PCs, and a good barometer of how the plot is going. In my Saturday/Remix game, she shed Tatyana's soul for a chance at a life with her (now) husband, Dorinn, our fighter, so it's been less central that I know how she's feeling at all times, but you can bet your ass I try to pulse check her every story beat and it really does give a read on the PCs. Like... right now they've teamed up with Strahd (temporarily?) to fight Patrina Velikovna. She's only willing because Patrina is Dorinn's crazy aunt, but she very much does NOT want to go to Ravenloft and pretend everything is okay. This is the place she was going to be imprisoned for life, this is the place she watched her brother die once (he got better!). They are working with the man who tormented her family so much her father died! She's apprehensive and putting the party's needs ahead of her own, but I guarantee that when she has a moment alone with her husband, she'll tell him how stricken she feels about going to Ravenloft and seeing Strahd again. I think she's overdue in my game for a blow up or break down that they're getting along with Strahd.
But that's the thing, right? She has emotions! She should! She should serve in some ways as the DM's moral center for the game and the reminder to the PCs about why they're doing what they're doing, even after the threat of Tatyana's soul has passed. And it's on me if I forget to do that. And I think like, you have to be comfortable as the DM to claim that success or failure and the make sure your Ireena is successful by giving her what canon doesn't. As much as I've seen DMs fail her, I've seen some amazing DMs flesh her out and make her the heart and soul of their campaigns. I've seen others make her badass support to their amazing parties. I've seen DMs take 20+ sessions to know what they're doing with Ireena before deciding she needs to matter to the players. It's a wild spectrum and I think it depends on how comfortable the DM is with adding to RAW and playing a female character.
That's why I said nothing I like about her is technically canon. Ireena Kolyana is a tabula rasa. The successful ones that I've played with, played as, and have witnessed in other games succeed on different merits. My Monday Ireena is a Disney Princess. She is the heart of the party, giving most of them the love and support none of them got in the Material Plane. My Saturday Ireena is a total Herbo who is terrifying in battle because she has nothing to fear but Strahd himself. The best DMs I've gotten to play with give her stakes in her own story, a personality, a drive. And somehow, when a DM does that for her, it's inevitable that a PC (and your players) will fall in love with Ireena!
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I have a lot of feelings about Ez, even though I didn't fill out a lot on the card. Weird, I know, but bear with me. We'll start with how the fans have done her dirty: the whitewashing. I went on my spiel about it for Ireena, but even if you can dig your heels in and say that since Ireena is a redhead "it makes more sense" weh weh weh (which isn't an excuse to whitewash her. There are natural redheads who are black and brown and even if there weren't, what a weird line to draw in the sand in a world with dragons and vampires), the Vistani (and thus Ez) are explicitly written to be people of color. Please respect!! I've also seen some DMs be shitty about Ez's disability which is so gross! My mom is disabled and she's still a badass who got her PhD at 60 and hasn't let anything stop or slow her down over the years. Why would Ez be any different? C'mon.
That aside, I feel like Ez is (rightly) a fan favorite and I love her so much. What was... hard? for me was the slow-burn falling in love with Ez. She had been my party's ally in a previous game where I was a player and my Paladin had been the only person to talk to her and fold her into the group. The DM had been a good guy but never gave Ez the wow factor Ez demands as per her stat block, preferring to give us, the PCs, the limelight, which is very kind! But as a result, no one really LOVED Ez in that adventuring party the way she deserved. I thought about making her my Saturday party's ally, but stuff happened and they ended up with Ireena and Rahadin as allies and I felt like Ez would be Overkill. I also was so intimidated by Ze Frech Accent I had given her that I was scared to make her a permanent member of the party in any way, even as I fell in love with the character and gave her all of my miserable wanderlust, even as our cleric fell in love with her and Lucian both, even as it occurred to me that Ez would consider staying for her found family, friends, and lovers... Even as I realized I'd done something potentially FASCINATING with her and Lucian as two sides of the same coin for their lover, Urlstra to the point that I think I gave them the same soul, split in twain, which is why one can't stay still and the other can't stop moving and why they both have interesting callbacks to St. Andral in my game. I knew that when she left the party, her return to them would have to be a Big Moment and even though @morpheoussilvercreature technically knows where her girlfriend is (lol) she agreed to hold off the Sending spell until later for my sake as her DM. I am eager for the party to reunite with Ez and for Ez to blurt out how much she loves Urlstra and how sorry she is she has spent most of the game being coy with her when she should have said it from the word "go" and how stupid her DM is for not realizing that Ceremony can be for like, up to eight creatures, because otherwise, Urlstra would have a husband and a wife.
Anyway.
Ez is also such a badass. She can hold her own in a fight and help out greatly when it comes to magic and damage dealing - is probably one of THE BEST allies in RAW. I didn't realize how lacking in buff/healing spells she is until Urlstra almost died when they were alone and Strahd attacked them. I think that's weird since Van Richten is ALL cleric spells. You'd think she would have picked up a thing or two spellwork-wise from him. Actually, I would really like to see more done about Van Richten and Ez. I know part of that is my fault as a DM for not giving that moment the gravity it deserved. I'd say it's never too late, but I kinda have thoughts about where Van Richten and Ez are so maybe that's closure my Saturday Remix won't get. It's such a nice change from sibling relationships and romances that are seeded throughout the book.
Another thing that I love is that VRGtR confirmed she/they NB Ez, who I was already playing as bisexual. I usually use "she" as the pronoun for Ez when I'm talking about her alone, "they" when talking about them and their girlfriend, and alternate between the two in larger group settings, depending on the grammatical structure of my sentence to avoid "Who's on First?" situations. I don't think this addition to the module atones WotC's racism towards Vistani, but I think it signifies good things for the future of the company and later modules.
I mentioned that I do project a little onto Ez. I project a little onto to all the NPCs, I think, but with Ez I can very clearly see a couple issues that I'm like "Haha, that's mine" including, but not limited to: loving my father as much as I wanna kick him in the shins, making gallows humor jokes about my disabilities, an inability to stay in one place for more than five years, being scared of how deeply I love, picking fights with strangers to feel alive, being stubborn and bossy af, believing a badass coat makes up from the rest of my outfit, not being able to shut up when I have a sarcastic comment, tarot reading as a coping strategy, and low-key overpreparing for everything. Also the whole being a queer icon thing or whatever. XD
So, yeah. I love Ez and I've always known I would, I just never really realized that I'd love her as much as I do and I certainly didn't realize that I would feel this crummy about my long-term plans for her, not because they aren't galaxy-brain, narratively appropriate takes, but because I put my beloved in mortal peril, oops. And I may owe her GF (and mine) an apology for that. Ooops?
EDIT: @interstellardragon pointed out that Ez uses “she/her” pronouns RAW in VRGtR and I had to see if I had a virtual copy to check. They are correct! I run with a gang of DMs in the lawless land of mild homebrew where, like, five of us saw the more androgynous preferred name of “Ez” as tacit permission from WotC to make Ez nonbinary. I’m sorry it’s not RAW, sorry for the confusion, but not at all sorry for playing her as a bisexual she/they at my table. Ez is a delight. Despite this, that does not qualify her for a “everything I like about them is not canon” or w/e the bingo square is because RAW did a lot right with Ez that I wish they’d done for some of the other potential party allies. Cheers!
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ass-sassafras · 5 months
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Didn't get shit done over the weekend. All I did was cook some food and stay alive and I'm already giving myself shit for dropping the ball. Even though I just wanted to stay in bed for the rest of my life, didn't shower, didn't go anywhere but I'm still here but that doesn't mean anything right now because my son doesn't have pants for the cold weather and neither kid has a coat.
And now I have to go to the fucking office tomorrow when it's 28° out, everyone will be there for the mandatory monthly meeting where we team build and I pretend I'm happy and stable when all I can think about is shooting myself. Then I have to commute back to my town then spend an inordinate amount of time sitting next to my ex husband and his mom at my kids' martial arts then do it all over again the next day including fucking band practice but I'm so fucking tired.
I'm so fucking tired and done and how many more years do I have to do this shit where I hang on by my fingernails and everything is gray and e everything is sad and everything sucks. Nothing is like it's supposed to be, and what happened to that little red haired seven-year-old girl who didn't know how mean the world can be? Who didn't know what rape was, how badly people can hurt you when they say they're your friend? Who didn't know that everyone is faking being happy past the age of 10. That's when life ends and we all just exist out of a sense of duty.
Are my kids already sensing how the world is? I really hope not, but I think they are. What am I passing on to them? Is mental illness hereditary? I love them more than I've ever loved anything, but was it irresponsible to even have them? The world is a bad place. I think it's even gotten worse since I was a kid.
It hurts to think about little me so I try not to. I've let her down so badly but so has everyone else. Who am I anymore. I'm so close to being done it's all I think about now.
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redfreebluehope · 1 year
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Finishing just under the wire today! 🕦 When thinking about "temptation" yesterday as I was strategizing my remaining Inktober prompts I'd already planned one sexy 🍑 illustration so my mind leaned towards decadent desserts 🍰 You think finding a suitable image would have been easy, but I think I easily spent more time researching cake and Japanese desserts than any other inktober image so far! Next time I'm at Belle's Bread I'm buying a piece of everything and taking professional reference photos 😆📸 I used my Zig Cartoonist no.22 brush pen for the plate, my Kuretake Mannen Mouhitsu fountain pen for the icing and strawberries, and my Kuretake Bimoji Fude pen for the cake. My goal was to make the icing dark and shiny with very little shading (thus avoiding spending an inordinate amount of time trying to make it look "real" and instead implying through the glossy texture of the ink the decadence of the chocolate). I looked up tutorials for drawing cake texture, but couldn't find any satisfying advice, so I had to make up my own technique and I'm glad to say it turned out as well as I had hoped! 💖 Ever since I was an undergrad I've been working on quieting that negative voice in the back of my mind that over critiques every artistic choice and endeavor that I make. Every artist I've ever known struggles with their own internal critic and I have to say, it's really good for your self esteem and your art process to tame this voice and rejoice in work you can produce. This image darker than I envisioned it, but I've fallen in love with it none the less, and I'm rather proud of how it turned out and what I've learned while making it. 😁💗🎆 #inktober #inktoberprompts #inktober2022 #tempting #temptingcakes #chocolatecake #chocolatecoveredstrawberries #dessertporn #inking #illustration #inkdrawing #kuretake #zigcartoonist #artistsoninstagram https://www.instagram.com/p/CkKcSrwuYpv/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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skzsauce01 · 2 years
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The (Love) Story Begins
Synopsis: Eight drabbles (exactly 100 words each) inspired by eight of TWICE’s songs. Songs are linked (if you want to listen for ~the vibes~) but prior knowledge of the song isn’t necessary.
Warning: mentions of blood, zombies, weapons, alcohol
Word Count: 826
Pairing: gn!reader x OT8
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chan - like ooh ahh
The theater screen gets splattered with blood, and instead of holding his arm like Chan hoped, you squeal with delight and reach for another handful of popcorn. Chan’s first date plan has been effectively ruined because he didn’t know you were also a horror movie fan. You keep one eye on the feast of human flesh as you sip the shared soda.
“Practical effects are so fun,” you remark.
A flying machete lands squarely inside the zombie’s chest, and you grin as the main character rips it out.
Chan motions for you to pass the gummy worms. “Yeah, they are.”
minho - dance the night away
Your cousin’s beach wedding has an open bar, which partially explains why you agreed to dance with a stranger. The other reason is because said stranger is really cute. He’s an excellent dancer too, and if that isn’t enough to make you swoon, then the three mojitos you had prior, will. You sway on your feet, giggling as he catches you before you fall.
“Easy there.”
You nod and rest your head on his chest. “You know, you never told me your name.”
“It’s Minho.” He smirks. “I can give you my number too, if you want.”
You do want.
changbin - heart shaker
You’re always the one who makes Changbin's latte. Today’s heart is only a little wispy, but you look like you’re ready to hide under the counter in shame when you present it to him.
“Please enjoy,” you squeak out. Then you leave a paper bag of scones on his table.
“Wait, I didn’t order this.”
“No, it’s for you. On the house.” You give him a flustered smile before scurrying back to the growing line of customers.
Changbin assumes you’re apologizing for the latte until he finds the napkin at the bottom of the bag.
I think you’re cute 555-4419
hyunjin - what is love?
Hyunjin — lover of love songs, avid watcher of rom-coms, and devourer of romance novels — knows what to do when he spots you struggling to reach the top shelf of a bookcase: he strides over and pulls the book out for you, offering it to you with a smile.
The corner of your mouth twitches. “Thanks, but it’s actually the one on the left. If you don’t mind…”
“I-I don’t mind.” Hyunjin’s face burns as he grabs the correct book. “Here you go.”
You smile back and hug the thick novel to your chest. “Thanks so much.”
“My pleasure.”
jisung - signal
[Jisung]: I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while now, but I like you [You]: i like you too! [You]: [screenshot.jpg] [You]: omg does he mean like like or friend like?? please tell me it’s like like [You]: omg that was for yeji [You]: i’m so sorry
A message has been unsent. A message has been unsent.
[Jisung]: I want to be more than friends [You]: wait really? [Jisung]: Yes ❤️ [You]: you’re serious right?? [Jisung]: ❤️Y❤️E❤️S❤️
[You]: [screenshot.jpg] [You]: YEJI HELP
How many hearts does Jisung have to send for you to get the message?
felix - fancy
Felix has been sipping on a glass of champagne, trying to work up the courage to talk to you for the past fifteen minutes. He wandered into the gallery for the party, but after he got a glimpse of your surrealist art, he’s dying to meet you. When he sees that you’re finally alone, he throws back the rest of his drink and walks over.
“Hi.” Heart in his throat, he holds out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Felix.”
You smirk. “I was wondering when you would stop brooding and come up to me. Nice to meet you.”
seungmin - yes or yes
Seungmin knows that his plan is stupid and that he probably should’ve thought it over more before dropping a folded sticky note at your desk, but he ran out of time. The carnival in town is only going to be here for another weekend, and he desperately wants to ride the Ferris wheel with you. He watches as you read it, pick up your pen, and fold it back up. You drop your reply onto his desk without a second glance. Nervous, Seungmin opens it.
Do you want to go to the carnival with me?
☑ Yes
☑ No Yes
jeongin - likey
The pink and yellow ice cream parlor has a decorative wall solely for pictures, and Jeongin is tempted to spend an inordinate amount of money just for the opportunity. You would look so cute among the neon lights and fluffy clouds. He can already imagine some of the silly poses you will do. He successfully convinces you to check out the store, and you admire the selection of flavors available. When he offers to buy you a cone, you see through his act of altruism and refuse.
“Let me buy two,” you say, “so we can take a picture together.”
~ ad.gray
If this was TWICE propaganda, I would tell you to listen to their first English single “The Feels” since it just came out, but since this is not TWICE propaganda, I won’t tell you to listen to their first English single “The Feels.”
okay but for real this really was a coincidence it’s just how my scheduling worked
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elriell · 3 years
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🥀Sleeping Beauty Retelling + Elriel  Part One  🥀
If you haven’t already read the first part you will need too as this is just an add ons/summary of the theory.
I did some research in to Koschei and discovered the following;
“In other tales, Koschei can cast a sleep spell that can be broken by playing an enchanted gusli.” 
A sleep spell? Almost like one that occurs in Sleeping Beauty, I don’t think it is a coincidence that she has inordinate amounts of SB art reference on Pinterest and she introduced Koschei who is known for casting curse, and who ENTRAPS a love interest.
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“The most common feature of tales involving Koschei is a spell which prevents him from being killed.  [...] Usually he takes the role of a malevolent rival father figure, who competes for (or entraps) a male hero's love interest.”
The more and more you deep dive in to the theory the more things align.
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Originally I had found four pictures but as I went further down when I wasn’t in a rush the more I found. She has countless SB imagery, whether that is like the above, or faeries, roses, spinning wheels etc... 
The second image was pinned four times.
“He whispered in her ear, “They say your sister Elain is the beauty,”
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Both Elain and Azriel are considered to be the beauties of their circle, so realistically it could be either, as I said last time I would love for it to be Elain who saves him.
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“In the gloom of the cottage, there sat a large spinning wheel, cracked and dulled with age. And before that ancient spinning wheel, her back to me, sat the Weaver.” 
[Full breakdown of the Weavers song here!]
I think they already touched upon him waking her from murky state she was in post Cauldron. 
“But Azriel nodded. “You knew,” he said to Elain. “About the young queen turning into a crone.”
Elain blinked and blinked, eyes clearing again. As if the understanding, our understanding … it freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in.”
“Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”
So I think they will bring it full circle but having Elain wake him from a curse/spell, and save him. It would bring their whole relationship full circle beautifully and would cap of her ARC of choosing her own path and exploring her own choices.
I think there are a few images that give me that vibe for sure! Going back to the theory of the 8th Court it could be easily linked that he gets stuck down there with them, and when she saves him she frees the other members of the court alongside him. A lot of these theories easily tie in to each other to be fair.
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In summary:
Their names mirroring each other.
The sheer amount of Aurora/Elain parallels (Light, Roses/Thorns, Being treated like a child.)
Elain Pink/Blue Gowns      [Colour Theory] [8th Court/Dusk Court]
Prophecies/Fate Parallels
Aurora’s alia “Briar Rose” & Elriel rescue a woman called Briar in ACOWAR + the constant rose imagery for Elain
“Sword of Truth”   &    “Truth-Teller”
In conclusion I am more and more convinced that Elriel are a Sleeping Beauty retelling and Koschei will curse one of them and until SJM says otherwise I will die on this hill.
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serendipitous-posts · 3 years
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Sacrifice you for nothing
Tubbo and Ranboo get a history lesson
title from Ain’t No Crying by Derivakat
"Damn" Tubbo says, staring up at the ceiling. "That chandelier really is fighting you every step of the way, huh?"
"And it's winning" Ranboo adds.
Foolish, hanging from the ceiling as he fixes the corner piece, glares down at him. "It is not winning" he hisses "I won't let it win." That declaration would have been a lot more solid had he not squeaked as the chandelier rocked dangerously.
If that fell and broke he would actually lose it.
Tubbo has no mercy for him. "You must hate that chandelier right now" he mocks "must be your least favourite thing in the world."
 "Nah" Foolish grips a small chunk of gold carefully in his teeth to avoid breaking it "that would be cults" he mumbles. There's a brief bit of quiet below and then;
 "Oh yeah, I heard that the Eggpire wrecked your buildings or something."
 Chandelier finally fixed (for now) Foolish drops to the floor, a fall that would have shattered anyone elses ankles but just leaves him slightly winded. "Nah" he says "I've run into cults before; one's way worse than this one."
 "Worse?!" Ranboo exclaims "worse than the parasitic chicken embryo?!"
 "Far worse" Foolish confirms body language completely relaxed despite such a dark topic
 (but outside the seas begin to froth and bubbles, rapids forming and pushing and pulling, crashing against teeth sharp rocks and punching away at the cliffs surrounding it.)
 "they seem to keep popping up wherever I go. I-
 (hate them hates them with everything he is and everything he is supposed to be divine blood in his body but he can't save them can't protect everyone can't heal everything some things can't be reversed)
 "really don't like them. They suck."
(I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so so sorry, I can take your broken pieces and stitch them back, back together and it won't be the same but it will be similar and that is all I can give you)
 (the totem in Ranboo's back pocket begins to burn)
 "I'll say" Tubbo agrees, then, with childlike curiosity and teenage macabre "which one would would you say is the worst?"
  Foolish falls still.
(the sea falls still. the totems stop burning.)
 (it is somehow worse)
 "Probably the one made for me" he says at last.
 The story goes like this; there's a village that prays to him daily. It's not that uncommon really; he's the God of the Ocean and the Undead. People pray to him for safe passage on the seas or to help them find a totem.
 But the people in this village are- to put it bluntly- really fucking annoying.
 It's not uncommon for people without totems to pray to him for hours on end, begging him to revive their loved ones, but these guys have turned it into an art form, any and all hours of the day, banging around in his head.
 And when words don't work, they turn to physical ways to show their devotion to their God. 
 Silly little mortals, trying to gain his favour with dead animals and trinkets, trying to gain his favour. He already gave them a way to cheat death, all they have to do is grab a totem. Why do they want another?
 They have all they need to survive. He painstakingly carved those totems. He will not give too much of himself.
 (lord foolish please my mother is gone i want her back lord foolish you can bring my husband back lord foolish fix this fix her i know you can)
 So he ignores the animal sacrifices and the pretty trinkets offered to him in exchange for reviving a daughter, a son, a wife, a husband. He cannot revive the long dead, he learned that a long time ago.
 The only real bearable one in the village is the child, and he doesn't even think the child knows what he is the God of, really, which is odd considering the inordinate amount of statues in the town. Whenever the child prays to Foolish, it's never about a dead loved one or the sea, it's always about what the child did that day. Foolish feels more like a diary than a God in those moments.
 And at least that's interesting
 (mister foolish i learned how to spell flower the other day f-l-o-u-u-e-r mister foolish i saw a dead cat on the side of the road the other day)
 (mister foolish are you ever lonely)
 The humans grow more and more frustrated with his complete and utter radio silence, and while he's out their festivals to him grow more and more complex, the animals growing bigger, rarer, more impressive.
 (i offer you this ender dragon egg this elytra this nether star this emerald ore this music disc)
 He's not gonna lie; the person who built that beautiful cottage had him for a solid minute.
 But he's not really paying attention to any of that; he's not the only God to have festivals and sacrifices in his name. Definitely not gonna be the last.
 (what do we have to do to bring back our loved ones?)
 He's just happy to build.
 Bargaining is a stage of grief, but so is acceptance, and they must learn to accept this.
 (except their not accepting it, the town is just growing angrier, more desperate, going bigger and bigger, hunting animals around them to extinction.)
 The first time they kill a human, he's pretty sure it's an accident. An old man, long past his time, probably just died from shock or disease.
 They put his body on the altar and offer him up to him, not to revive but as a sacrifice. He arrives, cloaked in illusions as thick as the fog around the town. He still sees Death though, watching sedately from where she's sitting on the wall, her angel beside her.
 They're gone in the next moment.
 The town never buries the old man, keeps him on the altar, and, after three days, Foolish takes him, takes him far away to an old field and buries him there.
 (the leader of the town finds the missing body and smiles. their god has accepted their gift)
 He hopes it's a one time thing
 (because what did they do to that man how could they these humans these ants small and painfully easy to kill but flocking together working together how could they turn on one of their own)
 (because what would he do then?)
 (after the man disappears from the altar, the child prays to him again, telling him the man's name, and how he once stopped the child from getting a rash from poisonous flowers. he liked violets the child tells him)
 (maybe the child really does know what he's the god of. maybe the child's just lonely.)
 He doesn't know what exactly triggered it. Maybe they saw the child trying to make conversation with a God instead of praying to one. Maybe the child, in the way all children are, said something controversial, maybe about the man who was left on the altar to rot.
 Maybe, maybe, maybe.
 He isn't there when the child is dragged out onto the streets, and dumped at the feet of the altar in front of the whole town, trembling and shaking. And the child is a child but is no fool, has seen the sacrifices has seen what has happened, and does what any scared child will do-try to run.
 And at the same time the child tried to back away, the leader swung his sword, and the whole town watched as the child screamed, eyes bloodied and slashed from the blade. 
 (he had been aiming for the neck)
 (not a fighter, that leader)
 "A life for a life!" The leader exclaimed and swung again.
 (the child collapsed on the floor and the crowd pressed in, eager to watch as they choked and gagged on the blood spilling out of their torn open throat, arms scrabbling into the ground like a beetle like a cockroach like an ant whose colony had turned on it)
 And- and then-
 And at the same time the child tried to back away and the leader swung his sword, the child had had one last panicked, desperate thought.
 (mister foolish, they're gonna kill me)
 And at the same time-
 And at the same time the leader slit the child's throat, a golden clawed hand grabbed him by his.
 "So yeah" Foolish says. "Cults are, like, the worst."
 Ranboo and Tubbo continue to stare at him. "Uh" Ranboo says, then promptly stops talking.
 "Did you . . kill them?" 
 He nods, bouncing on his feet a little. "Yeah" he smiles "good times."
 The two teenagers both look like they don't know what to do with that.
 "Well, at least they deserved it" Tubbo offers up attentively, and Ranboo nods
 "Can't believe they executed a child. Nobody deserves to die like that" Ranboo mutters and Tubbo winces beside him.
 "Y-yeah" Tubbo agrees nervously, twining his hands together "that poor kid. Hope it was peaceful."
 Foolish blinks at them. "Wait, what?" Then he replays their entire conversation and laughs.
 "Laughing at a kid's death" Ranboo notes, before turning to Tubbo "why are we letting him near Michael again."
 "No, no" Foolish waves his hands "you misunderstood me; the child didn't die."
 "You guys do remember I'm the God of Undying, right?" He raises an eyebrow at them both. "I healed the kid's neck wound right up." Ranboo just blinks at him in that slightly unsettling way that only an enderman can do.
 "I thought you didn't revive people personally."
 Foolish glances outside, past the both of them. "This was different" he says "this was-"
 (my fault my fault i turned a blind eye i could have stopped this sooner you choked and gagged and cried out for anyone to save you but in the end the motivation for your murder had to step in.)
 "-an exception."
 "Good for you!" Tubbo cheers, shooting his hands in the air vehemently "the whole stinking town is gone and you and the child lived!"
 Foolish makes a noise in the back of his throat. "Except the other towns had heard about the towns rituals. And it began to spread."
 Tubbo's hands drop. "Oh."
 "Yeah" he agrees "oh. But the worst part was the damage done to the child."
 "Let me guess" Ranboo says, dry as Egypt. "Traumatised?"
 "To put it mildly."
 (the child had turned blind eyes towards him, and when he had reached out to grasp the pudgy hand it had recoiled, the small body curling up away from him and he had burned)
 (the child hadn't seen or felt the tsunami that destroyed the entire town. but the screams- they had ears)
 "But uh" he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot "not just that. I'm the God of Undying, so I can heal other's mortal injuries."
 A long pause.
 "Their mortal injuries" he repeats.
 "Oh!" Tubbo jerks back "oh God! The child's eyes-"
 "I healed them" he says, then winces "tried to heal them" he corrects. Better. "But uh, because they weren't fatal they weren't exactly, uh, restored."
 (the mirror is broken and the cracks will show even when it's put back together and you'll never see the same way again my fault my fault i'm sorry i'm so so so sorry)
(this is all i can give you i am so sorry only child lonely child i cant take all you pain away but i promise you here and now you will be lonely no more)
"Damn." The closest Ranboo will ever get to a swear.
 "It gets worse" Foolish chirps "the other towns found out that a child had been blessed by the Totem God himself. Were very interested in what exactly this child could do."
 A long pause.
 Then. "Cults" Ranboo says faintly.
 "Cults" Foolish agrees cheerfully, thinking of a child screaming in agony with bloodstained eyes and a gashed throat as others looked on, indifferent.
 Cults Foolish thinks grimly as that same child is dragged up to be executed by the Eggpire.
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earnmysong · 3 years
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2020 Creator Picks!
the absolutely excellent @alamborghini very kindly requested that i choose your five (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works! thank you so much for thinking of me, friend!
while i don’t usually pass the meme baton, i feel like this occasion calls for it. so, if you would like to, please do: @treaddelicately, @pasmonblog,  @danieljradcliffe + @firstaudrina ... plus anyone else i might be forgetting who added fandom-related loveliness to the world over this weird year!
1. it's a sugar date (what if spring is late) {wanda/bucky future fic}
“Exactly! So don’t go getting bronchitis or pneumonia on [the dog's] account. He already has life pretty well under control.” Bucky tugs [Wanda's] zipper closed as the wind picks up. “And drink this.” | in an effort to stave off my wandavision anxiety, i wrote an excessively sweet winterwitch discussion of holiday-themed caffeine.
2. you've already won me over (i'm not used to liking that) {daisy/daniel mid-series finale}
“It’s unlocked!” [Daisy] yells toward the knock on her door. “I’ve been forbidden from moving and I’m kind of scared that Jemma will actually bury that paralyzing agent in my Cap’n Crunch tomorrow if I do!” | 2020 may have brought tons of unwanted crazy, but one appreciated bit? the reappearance of daniel j. sousa! this is timequake mid-series finale hurt/comfort.
3. try and grab the spotlight (a dollop of fame) {alexis/ted post-series kid fic}
Lennox greets Alexis at dismissal on the Monday of a week that’s going to be truly heinous, work-wise, with: “Mommy, I have a surprise for you! [...] We’re doing Hamilton for Theater Arts, and I’m Eliza!” | 2020 also introduced me to the utter perfection that is schitt’s creek! i also love hamilton an inordinate amount, so i couldn’t ignore the opportunity to combine them! bonus: this is also the longest non-chaptered piece i’ve ever written. i guess i had a lot of thoughts on the subject? :D
i also learned the art of making moodboards! two of my favorites: 4. alexis/ted + winter things and 5. dani/jamie + only you...
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lethendralis-paints · 3 years
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I've said all this already, but thank you for all the Fen content! I love seeing your art cross my dash, especially since Eris and Fen look so happy together (as well as little Ariadna)! I can tell that you love him just by looking at your pencil and brush marks <3 And thank you for hosting a twitch stream! Watching how another artist works and how their process works for them is always inspiring! <3
D'awwwwww! Thank you ever so much! I'm happy that you enjoy my doodles! I do have inordinate amounts of love for that brave warrior and my OC's, it's been known! When I had more energy we used to have drawing parties too - sketching with a bunch of friends on one canvas in DrawPile. I miss those a lot! Hoping there'll be more in the future - it's so inspiring to see others draw in real time! 🤩
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pearlplusau · 4 years
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Chapter 5- The insertion (Part 1)
Decades passed in the home world galaxy, everything was different now, as the planet slowly ripped in half, the anguish of the three diamonds remains unscathed and permanent as the infinite suns.
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After the incident, White Diamond isolated herself in her giant head ship all day, carrying out duties through simple mind control and formal messages to the higher ranked gems in her court, never needing to leave, never needing to see the empty palace of her starlight or the absent of the pink ship.
Blue Diamond wept, she wept day in, day out, as her only companion to feel happy together was lost and never would she returned. She suffered greatly from losing her, the sadness got so out of hand, under her eyes were dark bags as if they came to warn her about her powers draining her life force. Every now and then, she would visit Pinks sacred planets or the Human zoo, just to mourn for her, just to be reminded how she didn’t help as much as she should, just to feel what was left of her.
Yellow Diamond showed no more than what she already feels, anger. she would be in her chambers, attempting some long forgotten experiments of retrieved gem shards from the battle on Earth. Could she recognize her own soldiers from the rebels? No, it was impossible to distinguish gems by their shards, so she decided to continue the experiment. as she examines the various shards scattered on the counter,she thought of a plan . “If I can’t make a colony out of that hideous rock, then it looks like I’ll have to destroy it. White may have yet to approve my idea, but her refusal of talking anything regarding Pink won’t stop me from wiping that planet out of existence,” she thought as bitterness and anger fueled her, but she knew she was just as heartbroken as Blue, she just couldn’t show it.
She wiped off something from her eye and called out, “Pearl!”
The yellow pearl peeked out behind the counter with her arms in salute, “Yes my Diamond?”
“I want you to seek out the Inordinate one, and get her here immediately, I have a very important mission for her.”
“Yes,right away my Diamond!” Pearl bowed and left the room.
 Back on Earth,
The remains of a war was mostly scattered about, there abandon weapons, obilerated lands, and broken space ships here and there, but no gem shards were shining in the dusty bright dessert, and no real sign of battles can be seen.
A corrupted giant yam monster, the size of a giant boulder was rolling away into an abondoned kindergarden. The Crystal gems, which consisted of Garnet, Pearl and Coral panted as they chased the monster for the whole day, but it was too fast for them.
"Not that i know of, but we need a break, i dont think Coral here can withstand another hit from the monster." She pointed to the aformentioned gem as she looks like shes gonna collapsed at any moment.
Pearl was the first to recover herself and started, "That’s the third time this week it got away! Garnet! Can you see if we're able to take care of it?"
The fusion, paused and go through the multiple outcomes of the situation, but none shows a newly bubbled gem in her room.
The pink pearl was panting and wheezing as she was rather in low health, but she held her head up and assured the two gems that she's fine.
"Really! I'm fine! Let's keep goin-" She almost finished her sentence before collapsing.
Before she went unconcious, she heard Pearl mumbling and complaining, "I knew it was a bad idea! Why was she so insisting on coming along? She was the one that lost track and couldn’t keep a stable stance with it!”
“Pearl,” Garnet said, “You can’t blame her for the inevitable, besides, Rose needed sometime alone and she was the one that suggested we do it together since we can’t all just swing a sword and poof them in an instant! At least she’s trying her best.”
Pearl responded the fusion, “Well maybe, her best just isn’t-”
Coral passed out before she could comprehend her last words, and drifted into some sort of realm of the past, or rather, somewhere that’s so familiar but yet still the same.
She was standing in a dark room, but was suddenly lit up bright, she found that she was in White’s Head ship with her heels up in the air, her arms stiff and stuck in an unsual pose, and she was…greyscaled? Before her stood White Diamond herself, she looked pleased of what she’d just done.
‘Ahh yes,’ The great diamond spoke, but her voice was echoing from somewhere nearby, ‘it’s been a long time since I used my powers but looks like its doing just fine!’
She looked at Coral as if this was a fun game, and only she know how it ends.
‘Don’t be too hard on yourself pearl,’ Her voice was almost, sympathy, pitying the pearl, ‘You wouldn’t want to remember any of this now would you?’
She placed her index finger under Coral’s chin and lifted it up to her bright face, her nail was so sharp it was a miracle her skin didn’t poof on impact.
‘I’m doing you a favour,’ Her voice echoed more, it was louder this time. ‘That crack of yours will never truly heal, she can’t be seen with an old, broken pearl, you understand now don’t you? Besides, she has her new pearl now, so don’t you wory about a thing!’
Coral tried to spoke, she tried to defend herself, but she couldn’t even look away, she doesn’t know WHAT to feel. All she could remember was Pink demanding a colony from the diamonds.
“Now off you go!” A white bubble materialized around her and floated out of the White torso ship. Everything went dark.
 Back at the temple, Coral was lying in her room, tossing and turning and gasped, shes awake.
She found herself on a pile of human clothing, she doesn’t wear them, but they were soft, perfect to lie on and rest when needed. The different shades of pink from ranging from Light to Deep pink to medium violet red can be seen neatly placed in piles, almost the size of a human bed.
“What was that? I don’t think I ever... dreamt before?” Coral questioned herself.
She looked around and saw all the things too familiar, surrounding the pile of clothes was running water in a pink hue, stretching out longer and wider than the sea, but no deeper than a kiddie pool. Above her, pink clouds were drifting through, they seem endless as well, going to the same direction as the sea around her.
“Wait a sec,” Coral suddenly thought, “Weren’t we on a mission or something? Where are the others?” She rose up and took a step out of the comforting pile of fabric and ballerina her way on the water’s surface.
She concentrated and a door size glow materialized in front of her. As the light dimmed, rose stems with thorns glowed and departed, leading her outside her room.
Just as she was half-way through, she heard a voice, no, two voices talking aloud and complaining.
Rose’s voice was first recognized, “-too dangerous, you need Coral on this mission!”
‘For what? All she did was getting trampled and hit by that thing! Any more damage taken would’ve poofed her! Or worse!”
Garnet’s voice joined in, ‘That I agree.”
‘Well, even if she’s not capable of catching the corrupted gem, you should’ve leave her out like this, she’ll be heartbroken if she finds out you went without her!’
‘So? It’s better than her slowing us down! There’s so much more monsters out there, we won’t be able to bubble them all with her around! Garnet and I can’t fight AND  keep her safe at the same time!’
Garnet chipped in, ‘And it’s not that we dislike her, we love her, all of us, but if we’re gonna take care of the planet and avoid locals from getting harmed, we need to bubble as much as possible in the least amount of time.’
A faint sigh can be heard, the leader spoke, ‘If it means less suffering and less humans getting hurt, then I suppose it would be fine for Coral to have a time-out for a few days. You two need to rest, but you should head out before Coral wakes up, all right?’
‘Of course’ said Pearl.
‘Noted.’ said Garnet.
‘Good,” Rose ended, ‘Dismissed’
Coral slipped back into her room before any of them noticed her. She was processing what was heard while the rest of the crystal gems head back to their respective rooms.
I’ll show them, she thought, I’ll show that I’m capable of handling a gem monster AND myself!
When the coast was clear, she quietly tip-toe out of her room and went back to the last known location of the yam monster.
 Just outside the Earth’s orbit, various yellow spaceships can be seen in a form of a diamond, specifically, Yellow Diamond.
Inside the first spacecraft, with green and yellow glowing alien technology far advanced than anything that ever existed, and piloting each ships were handfuls of Era 1 peridots. These peridots each have a triangular gem and the same heights as pearls, but far more intelligent as they are very competent technicians. The peridots were capable of doing various tasks such as data logging, research, communication range bigger than the galaxy without external equipments.
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(Art by @gemfiles​, if you would like your artwork removed please dm me, as this pic here has the purpose of visual aids for the readers)
They were busy working on the coordinates and history of the planet Earth, typing required data and analyising it’s past reputation and current resources on the ships available platform and programs.
A peridot stood and walked off from her post, the others took no notice and persume their work. The peridot stood still in front of a door, and a scanner appears from the right wall. The contraption scanned her form for her gem and found it on the back of her left hand, the light scan turn from green to light yellow and beeped.
The door slid open and the peridot went through, her arms in diamond salute as she greets her superior officer.
‘My Anglesite,” She said, ‘I am here to report that we have arrived at the planet’s orbit, do I have your orders and coordinates to land ?’
‘My, my,’ The main gem-in-charge yellow Anglesite replied, wearing a white lab coat and triangular pointy shoulder pads in the colours yellow and white. She wore glasses so thin you could only notice it up front, the right side of her face was covered by her light blonde short hair.
If you think she’s the same as the other gems, she not, cuz her lower half was just hovering circle platform, so she would resemble a vase on the circular coffee table. But, the platform serves as a method of transport, as it is designed to float above any ground so she can travel as same as other gems, it’s just faster and requires her pretty much no energy to be in motion.
at the edge of the platform, robotic hands can sprout out and execute projects better and faster than a normal gem, weapons and defence systems? You dont need to worry about that.
The yellow gem continued, ‘Just as I calculated, looks like even the atmosphere is liking what will be done to that little chunk of rock, wiping it out of our starmaps will be so much faster, and then, the great Yellow Diamond will praise me for my work, promote me and i will finally have the chance to meet my glorious, shining White Diamond!’
The peridot was getting tired of hearing the “possibility” after the mission was complete, but she could only agree with her superior, ‘Of course she will my Anglesite! So, about the course-’
‘Ah yes, set the course towards north of the largest continent on the planet, that is where the final stage of the mission will commence!’ The yellow gem started giggling and laughing, but she gave one last order, ‘That will be all!’ and continued with her laughter.
‘Yes my Anglesite.’ Peridot trudged back to her position and set the course.
The ship entered the planet’s orbit and the technicians went to work.
 It’s been a few hours, the sun was starting to rise, the cold nigh air was starting to warm up the atmosphere as shadows began to crept under the desert lifeforms.
Coral was walking aimlessly through the desert, mumbling and kicking the sand, just wanted to catch that gem monster and prove to them she’s not useless.
I can’t believe they didn’t want me to come along, she thought, I’ve been with Rose longer than Pearl has, and I was there when everything happened, it’s not fair!
She kicked more sand, but the impact wasn’t obvious, since the whole terrain was a desert.
She sighed and sat behind a rock to take a break, physically and mentally.
The whole trip was to catch that monster but she’s done nothing but follow her “instincts” and it led her nowhere. There was no tracks, no damaged that looks like its from a giant yam monster, and most importantly, no idea whats next.
Wait, she thought, whats that on the sky?
Is that….a homeworld spaceship? No wait, there’s more than one?
Ohnononono, she thought, they’re coming back for us!
I have to go back! I have to tell Rose and Garnet and Pe-
….
….
Or…
Maybe this is the chance I’ve been waiting for, to prove that I can handle myself.
Yeah, I wont be able to fight off ships of soldiers, but I can do a little sneaking around, trying to see what’s really going on, or better yet, their plan of attack so we’ll know what’s coming!
Coral summoned her trusty lance and did a quick jog to catch up with the ships.
End of Part 1.
(Heyo, so...as you finish reading this youll notice it’s pretty different from the story before.
But its not like im trying a COMPLETY different thing, its kinda like the previous chapter where we see what happens on homeworld, but in this chapter, we’re dealing with something that doesn’t really have any leads from the canon series.
Sooo, yeah, the north of the largest continent, Yellow diamonds plan, corrupted monsters, you should have a pretty huge idea of whats going on.
Also, the new gem is very different from what we usually see, but there’ll be a concept art in traditional paper, and probs no colour, just for you guys to see what she looks like, cuz the description of her isnt so...Complete?
But feel free to draw her tho, cuz i guess she kinda an OC here? If you could tell, she’s a gem under yellow’s court, but she also contains little essence from white diamond, which is why she has two diamonds on her design.
So yeah, she will be posted in a few days or smth.
Aaaannddd thats abt it for now, if youre reading this, it means you respect what i have to say, and i thank you for that.
Happy reading!
Pearlplusauchap Pearlplusauchap5
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rumbelleshowdown · 4 years
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Author:  Overpraised Lasagna
Prompt: lost keys
Group: J
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The Book's the Thing
It had been years since he’d been in a library, making this day even more surreal than it already was. But what had first appeared to be a minor case of vandalism, a few shelves of books mishandled and scattered about, had become central to an ongoing murder investigation.
Detective Weaver took a deep breath and relaxed his stance as he approached the librarian’s office. Though the murder under question had worrisome ties to the occult, there was no reason to alarm the librarian. 
“Miss French?” 
“Oh! I’ll be right there!” A voice answered from a closet located on the left side of the room. He barely had time to turn his head before a petite woman, who was wearing dangerously high heels and a dangerously short skirt, stepped into the room. 
“You must be Detective Weaver! I’m Belle French.”
Weaver, who realized a little too late that he was staring very inappropriately at the woman’s shapely legs, quickly looked up into the bluest and most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen, eyes that were only outshone by the lustre of the woman’s radiant smile. It wasn’t until he noticed the worry behind her smile that he was able to regain his composure. He’d never been distracted by a pretty face before. He could only attribute his reaction to his misguided assumption that librarians fit a certain stereotype. As a detective who’d worked his share of cases, he should have known better. Assumptions could destroy a case faster than anything else.
“Yes, Miss French, I’m Detective Weaver. I hope you don’t mind answering a few questions. It seems your case may be related to one that I’m working.” He shook the hand she offered, noting the warmth that spread through him at this simple contact.
“Not at all, detective. I want to help any way I can.” She paused as if debating with herself before adding, “Would you join me for a cup of tea? It helps me relax.”
“I’d love to,” he replied even though he didn’t drink tea. He spent his days downing an inordinate amount of coffee when he was on the job followed by whiskey chasers once he was off duty. 
Her whole face lit up at his response. “Thank you! It will be nice to have some company.” She prepared the tea and then gestured for him to sit next to her on a small sofa. 
“I hope I can provide you with some useful information. I did my best to answer the police officers, but I don’t think I was that helpful.” 
“Sometimes what seems like the most unimportant detail helps us break a case wide open,” he reassured her while trying to balance the porcelain teacup in hands that seemed too big and clumsy for the fragile object. “Why don’t you start at the beginning? Tell me what happened in your own words.” He smiled encouragingly at her.
Belle French, who had been so brave up to that point, suddenly broke down. Her mouth wobbled and tears sprang to her eyes. “It’s all my fault. I lost the keys to the acquisition room yesterday and somebody must have found them and used them to get in. I’ve just been so clumsy and disoriented lately - ever since I moved here a few months ago. I wanted the adventure of moving to a big city, but maybe I’m only cut out for a quiet provincial life.”
For the first time ever, Weaver, who’d dealt with thousands of witnesses and suspects over the course of his career, felt out of his element. An inexplicable urge to comfort this woman came over him.
“I can assure you that none of this is your fault, Miss French. There’s no doubt in my mind that you did not lose the keys - the perpetrators stole them. They’re looking for something very specific and thought it could be housed in that room.”  
Belle looked at him with gratitude in her eyes. “So they’re looking for a specific book?”
Weaver smiled at her. “Yes, one specifically related to magic, the occult, the dark arts… however you’d like to define it. I can’t say much more than that without compromising the case.”
“I know there were quite a few books about magic and the occult in the room, but I haven’t had a chance to see if any are missing. Your team asked me to wait until they were finished gathering evidence. I’ll take an inventory as soon as they’re done.”
“That would be very helpful.”
“Oh! And should I check the inventory of magic and occult books that are already catalogued and on the library shelves to see if any of those are missing?”
“Yes, please.” He smiled again. “I can see you may have a knack for this, Miss French. The perpetrators would most definitely have searched the whole library looking for this book. My guess is that they only broke into the locked room to make sure they hadn’t overlooked anything.” 
“Then I may have seen them without knowing what they were doing.”
“Very likely. And I’d venture to guess that the person who searched the stacks is not the  same person who stole the keys and entered the acquisition room.”
“Oh! This is quite a mystery! And the book’s the thing that will help you solve it!” Belle exclaimed, secretly pleased with her attempt at making a literary reference.
“Yes,” Weaver agreed. He then proceeded to ask her to provide him with any surveillance tapes and a list of anyone who had checked out books on magic or the occult in the past six months.
Belle was more than happy to oblige, excited that she could be of some real assistance in solving this mystery.
“There’s one last thing I’d like you to think about,” Weaver said, trying his best not to alarm her. “Have you noticed anyone suspicious hanging around the library in the past few weeks?  Especially anyone particularly interested in the magic/occult section?”
Belle took a few moments to think before replying. “It’s hard to say. I’ve come to recognize our regular patrons, but there are many people who come in very infrequently. I can’t say that anyone was acting in a way that caught my attention. And the magic section is out of view so I didn’t notice anyone spending a lot of time there.”
“Would you be willing to look at photos of possible suspects?” 
“Of course!” Belle answered enthusiastically. 
“What if I stop by the library tomorrow morning with some photos - say around 10:30?”
“That would be perfect!” She bestowed another one of her smiles on him. “You know, detective, you remind me of someone I knew years ago when I lived in Storybrooke, Maine. You’re very different from him, but there’s something about you...”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Weaver asked, suddenly very curious about this other man.
Belle giggled. “Both... It’s complicated.”
“You must know that as a detective I need more of an answer than that.”
“If you agree to have a cup of tea with me tomorrow, I’ll tell you more.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Miss French,” Weaver said as he realized that he’d finished his tea and was still holding the cup in his hand.
“Well?” Belle asked. “Is it a deal?”
“It’s a deal.”  Weaver, who prided himself on never making deals, answered without the slightest hesitation. 
They sat smiling at one another until Weaver continued, “Well, I should be on my way. There’ll be a police officer assigned to the library for the next week - just standard operating procedure. I can pretty much guarantee you that the perpetrators won’t be back.”
“Thank you,” Belle replied. “I appreciate that.” She leaned forward and placed her hand on his, sending another burst of warmth through his body.
Weaver got to his feet and offered an awkward good-bye before stopping by the acquisition room on his way out.
“Rogers, there you are,” he said to one of the officers. “Good work making the connection with my case. Anyone else would have treated this as a simple act of vandalism.”
“Thanks, Weaver. I saw the connection right away. Your case is a strange one.”
“I know and I don’t like it.”
“Me neither. Let me know if you need my help.”
“Oh, I will. I have something I want to talk to you about tomorrow. Stop by my office when you get in.”
With that taken care of, Weaver left the building. It wasn’t until he arrived at his apartment that he realized that he’d gone straight home instead of stopping at Roni’s. By now he’d usually be flinging back several of his favorite amber-colored drinks to help him drown his demons.
But today was different. Today there were no demons. The only thing on his mind was the amber liquid that he’d sipped from a teacup that afternoon while staring into the mesmerizing blue eyes of a lovely librarian.
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breakingbadfics · 3 years
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A change of pace: a much more grounded and proper review of Monster Prom 2/3
Monster Prom at it’s base is a comedy centric dating sim based in a high school where everyone is 20+ years old except for those who are immortal and therefore beyond the scope of the mortal keeping of age. 
As mentioned my limited experience with Dating Sims and Visual Novels prevent me from properly reviewing it in comparison with other works in it’s genre, but the game as a whole is very very well done in both the gameplay and story aspects of itself.
The game initially begins with 6 romantic interests, and the second semester dlc update adds an additional two new potential prom dates for you to spend time with, all of these characters run the gauntlet of high school comedy archetypes, The jock with a heart of gold, the bad boy with a secret sensitive side, The hipster, The party girl, naive rich girl, the stone cold self made rich girl, a very very good robot boy, and the fan girl Lovecraftian eldirtch deity next door that I totally do not have a bias for, stop making accusations. 
Starting up the game you have the options to play with voice acting or no voice acting, and then you get to pick from one of four different protagonists coded in Yellow, Red, Green, Blue, each one can be given a name matching their color motif, a canon name from the devs, or a custom name you can give them, on top of that regardless of the masculine or feminine coding these characters come with they can be given one of three sets of pronouns based on your preference(he, she, they.) And further your play-through can be determined by picking between a 30 minute, and 1 hour play-through. 
at the start of your play-through the game will quiz you and based on your answers will assign your play-through a series of stats, and a boost in points that will automatically give you favor with one or two of the romantic interests through out the game.
The stats do actually mean something. On my initial first several playthroughs I always ended up failing to acquire a date for prom, primarily because I was more interested in gaining favor with my desired date of choice rather than making myself appealing to them through the acquisition of points. And as far as I can tell, every character has a minimum recquirement in stats you have to meet in order for them to consider you worth going to prom with. 
The music is fantastic and has an 80′s rock pop vibe that makes it easy to listen to on loop, which is good since you’re probably going to be doing that a lot. 
The Writing is firmly tongue in cheek with everything from the narration, to the responses you give to questions presented in goofiness befitting of it’s hybrid fantasy monster high school setting. And natural 7 paragraphs in I’m now telling you the game is firmly targeting  the 18 and older demographic. That said, The stories do handle serious subjects in various story events and those events are handled with the dignity they are owed. 
The art direction is fantastic and you will very likely find someone in the cast of characters that you love in one way or another. Except Leonard. Leonard is a piece of shit. 
I’ve already lost an inordinate amount of time to this game, and have in fact bought Monster Camp plus all of it’s DLC. and am hoping very hard that Monster Camp Reversed happens soon. 
I’m not going to do a review score, but I’m going to say that the game is absolutely worth the money whether it be on sale or not. It has a sequel, and I implore you to give it a try if the sound of it all is interesting to you. 
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howterrifying · 4 years
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+sherlolly: seeing eye to eye
A sort of AU? As I continue to reacquaint myself with this ship due to my very, very long writing absence, I seem drawn to their origin stories and found myself wanting to explore them. For some reason, I was feeling very uni!Lock and decided, yes, let’s do this. And not only is it uni!Lock but Mycroftcentric-uni!Lock. If there’s one thing I’ve not lost touch with, it is my love for Mycroft Holmes. I hope you’ll enjoy this terribly long but rather fun piece. I certainly had fun writing it :) x
::
Contemporaries   (also on FF.net and AO3) The brothers barely looked alike, the only physical similarity being their relatively similar heights. Apart from the fact that they shared the same residential address, the same family name and, well, fairly similar heights, one would never have assumed they were brothers. There was their genius, of course. Those who did have the fortune (or sometimes misfortune) of running into either of the Holmes brothers would immediately realise they were of the same make. The depth of their observations and the speed of their deductions almost always left a mark. An encounter with a Holmes brother would not be an easy one to forget. 
Mycroft, slightly past his mid-twenties and already with several doctorates to his name, was now working at the university. Sherlock was in his second year but had already zoomed ahead and could have graduated that very year if he had wanted to. However, his extra-curricular activity, of which he was the only member, slowed him down to remain ‘on track’ with his fellow university mates. Solving crimes was very time-consuming and Sherlock was a most dedicated ‘club’ member. The brothers rarely interacted. It was better this way for all parties included. Thankfully, their spheres rarely collided. In fact, Mycroft was often away from the university altogether, finding himself naturally propelled into various government boards and committees. It was a rare afternoon that Mycroft found himself back on campus. As he sat in his office reviewing the minutes of a recent meeting, there came a quiet knock at his open office door, causing him to look up from his documents. “Ah, you must be Ms Hooper,” he remarked with a polite smile. One of the most promising pathology students of her year, Molly Hooper, walked into his office and reached for his extended hand and shook it. “It’s very good to meet you, Mr Holmes,” she began before taking her seat.  “Very good to meet you too,” he replied, “I have heard a lot about you.” “I trust you’ve read the proposal I’ve sent you?” asked Molly, nervously gripping the edge of her seat.  “Yes, some new lab equipment for the…” he began flipping through her proposal file that he had retrieved, “The…Forensics Society.” “We decided to keep the name simple,” said Molly. “Simplicity is always best, Ms Hooper. So I appreciate that,” Mycroft remarked with a nod. Mycroft closed the proposal file and cleared his throat. He adjusted his seat a little forward and looked right at Molly. “Your proposal caught my eye, Ms Hooper, which is why I have called you in.” Molly’s eyes widened in surprise. She had not been expecting to hear that. Did not everybody have to come in to meet Mr Holmes at some point to argue the case for their proposals to be approved? “Oh, I see,” was all Molly could muster for the moment.  Mycroft smiled, slightly amused at her reaction. He then reached for another file on his desk and presented it to her. “I have now a proposal for you , Ms Hooper. One that I sincerely hope you would accept,” Mycroft continued. Molly took the file from him and began flipping through its documents. Her eyes widened like they had moments earlier except it was no longer in surprise but in disbelief. “Are you…offering me a job, Mr Holmes?” asked Molly, her eyes still large from incredulity. “I most certainly am, Ms Hooper. I discovered, from your proposal, that it would be a real waste of your talents if you merely utilised them within The Forensics Society. Besides, the equipment you had asked for… I think we could put them to some really   good use. Do you not think so?” Molly struggled to form a response to this resoundingly unexpected turn of events. She flipped back to the first page of Mycroft’s proposal and looked though it again, as though to check if she had misinterpreted any part of it. “There is no mistake, Ms Hooper,” said Mycroft, as though reading her mind, “I am offering you a job in, well, I suppose you could call it a ‘club’ of my own.” Molly processed his spoken words and the typed ones before her, frowning but only to contain the surge of excitement in her veins. Her head felt like it was quite about to burst. Eventually, her frown disappeared and a small smile grew. “I presume that’s a yes ?” asked Mycroft. “Yes, Mr Holmes,” said Molly at last, “I accept.” ++ It had been a busy few months for Molly Hooper, what with setting up the new laboratory equipment and running the club with her fellow forensics enthusiasts. However, the real source of her busyness had been the work she was now doing with Mycroft’s team. Although much of this team and its work was shrouded in mystery, she had been plunged right into Mycroft’s team of consultants and forensic pathologists on some very interesting cases. Molly had lost count of the number of non-disclosure agreements she had had to sign each time before beginning work on a new case. It was a Saturday afternoon that Molly found herself at one of Mycroft’s laboratories in an obscure government building, the type that required an inordinate amount of security screening before she could even step foot into the main lobby. She was used to it by now, however, and breezed through it all to resume the case she was currently working on. She and the team were busy reviewing an anomaly in the dyed hair of a recently murdered politician when the doors to their lab opened with an uncharacteristically loud bang. “Is the new hematology analyser here yet?” came a brusque male voice. The team looked up at the interruption only to resume their discussion as though nothing had happened. Molly was puzzled by their response and felt slightly awkward that a question had been unanswered. “Um, yes. It arrived at noon yesterday,” she answered. Before she knew it, the figure that had stormed into the lab came storming towards her, eyeing her curiously as he approached. “You’re new,” came that same voice. “And you’re Sherlock Holmes,” said Molly, “Pleased to meet you.” “How do you know who I am?” he asked, frowning. “We go to the same university. A friend of mine fancied you for a while. You both took that elective Photomolecular science module last semester,” Molly replied matter-of-factly. “Also, your brother did tell me to expect you.” Sherlock made a noise that sounded like a mix of a scoff and a laugh as he strode around the lab looking for the machine that had been the reason for his visit. “Would you like to see it?” Molly asked, smiling politely at her university contemporary. The team looked up from their discussion, a little aghast that she was entertaining the whims of their big boss’ infamous younger brother. Yet, neither of them said a word, deciding that silence was the safest response around the rather volatile younger Holmes brother. “I should like to use it,” Sherlock retorted. “Ah, I cannot allow that at the moment, I’m afraid. Sorry about that,” said Molly, her polite smile still perfectly in place. The tall and impatient figure of Sherlock Holmes looked down at the surprisingly unfazed pathologist-in-training who stood before him. “Who are you?” he asked “She’s in charge ,” came the voice of Mycroft Holmes who, unlike his brother, had entered the laboratory virtually unnoticed. “Why are you down here?” Sherlock asked, changing the subject. “Security has been told to inform me the moment you step into my buildings, in particular my laboratories, or have you forgotten?” Sherlock made that same scoffing noise again as he walked away from his brother, still trying to look for the new machine amongst the hundreds of state-of-the-art equipment in the enormous laboratory. “Even if you found it,” Mycroft continued, “You couldn’t operate it. Only Ms Hooper has the authorisation codes to power it up.” “So that’s your name. Ms Hooper,” Sherlock repeated, ignoring his brother and walking back towards Molly. “Just Molly is fine,” she answered back coolly. Sherlock towered over Molly but did not overshadow her in the least. She remained where she was, with that steadiness in her eyes that was starting to unnerve him. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be interrupted like this, Ms Hooper. I do apologise,” said Mycroft. “It’s no matter, Mr Holmes. Besides, you did warn me,” she replied with a laugh. That laugh of hers bothered Sherlock. It bothered him because it was clear she was not bothered at all by his presence or his intrusion into her workspace. Sherlock was not used to a reaction like hers. “Do you need him removed?” asked Mycroft. “No, it’s all right, Mr Holmes. I think I can handle him,” Molly replied, looking right back at Sherlock who had not once removed his gaze from her. “If you say so,” said Mycroft with a parting nod before exiting the laboratory. The younger Holmes brother seemed rooted where he was, staring hard at Molly who very calmly adjusted her crisp white lab coat. “So, Sherlock Holmes…” Molly began. He paused, uncertain of how to respond because of how directly she had addressed him. “Y-yes?” he answered at last. “I’ll show you the machine,” she said, her bright eyes shining at him, “And if you keep to the rules of my lab, maybe I will let you use it.” Her words amused Sherlock in a way he had never experienced. There was a boldness in the calm of her voice. Her gaze never once wavered and Sherlock found himself beginning to admire it somewhat. “Do we have an agreement, Sherlock Holmes?” asked Molly. Sherlock saw that she had stretched her hand out, awaiting his response. With a grin, he took it, shaking it firmly. “I believe we do, Ms Hooper,” said Sherlock. “I told you,” Molly said with a small smile, “Molly will do just fine.” ++ To everyone’s surprise, the day had gone by and Sherlock Holmes had not broken a single one of Molly’s ‘lab-keeping’ rules. He seemed to have put aside the initial case he had come in with and earned his way into participating in the international murder case they were investigating. “Your brother might not be too pleased about this,” said Molly with a glint in her eyes, “But I think you’ve earned this.” She headed to one of her open laptops and pulled up a recent toxicology report and gestured for Sherlock to join her. The aspiring detective rushed to where she was seated and pored over the report greedily. “Your analysis is…incredible ,” Sherlock murmured, not realising he had just praised someone out loud. Someone who was not himself.  “Thank you,” Molly replied in amusement. Her response made him realise he had  spoken out loud and it caused his mind to stumble a little. “Since you’ve been so helpful with our blood samples, perhaps you’d like a go at the hematology analyser now?” asked Molly, helping him change the subject. “Oh, right, yes… the evidence I’d brought from the robbery,” he said, heading to where his coat was hanging. Sherlock found his coat and rummaged through one of its deep pockets, pulling out a small ziplocked bag with the evidence he had found at his crime scene. As he looked at it, the magnitude of Molly’s work and her achievement here in this lab alone really struck him. Who was she? He frowned as he thought to himself. How was it that their paths had crossed only now? “Molly…” he said, returning the evidence back into his coat pocket. “Hmm?” she answered, her eyes still glued to her laptop screen. “Have we taken any modules together?” asked Sherlock, walking back towards her. “I don’t think so,” she replied, still typing away at her laptop. “But we have so much in common, how is that possible?” His words stopped her in her tracks, her hands suspended above her keyboard as her typing came to a halt. “There are many others who share our interests, Sherlock,” said Molly, smiling. “But I’m sure we would have taken a class together at some point…” “No, you don’t understand, Molly,” Sherlock interrupted. “What don’t I understand?” she asked back, puzzled.  “We are…” He had to pause to take a breath. “We are…the same .” Molly turned from her laptop to look at him, wide eyed. She was equal parts taken aback and amused. It surprised her to hear him actually say those words. “Quite the sweeping statement, Sherlock Holmes,” Molly replied with a small laugh. “I may not have all the facts,” he continued, “But I can’t seem to argue otherwise.” “No one is arguing with you…” “I think I’m arguing with myself…” He seemed frustrated, but Molly watched on quietly in mild fascination. “Molly,” he said, looking up sharply at her. “Yes, Sherlock?” “Work on my cases with me,” he said. “Your cases?” “I cannot pay you like Mycroft does, but we would make a good team. Your skill set and mine.” There was a moment of silence that passed between them. Sherlock, awaiting her response, uncharacteristically tense and Molly, wondering what to do with this abrupt new proposal. What was it with the Holmes brothers and their penchant for throwing curveballs? “Do I have to answer you now?” said Molly at last. “Um…no, I suppose you don’t…” said Sherlock in atypical clumsiness. The look on his face caused Molly to chuckle softly. She shut her laptop and got off the lab stool she was sitting on. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Sherlock, but it’s way past evening and the rest of the team have actually gone home,” Molly continued. “Oh, I…” “My eyes do need a bit of a break, but I promise I’ll take a look at what you have,” she said, answering him at last. “You will?” he asked, shocked that she had agreed. “We’ll see how it goes,” she remarked, smiling. “Let’s discuss this over some food. Are you hungry?” Had Molly not asked, Sherlock would not have realised how famished he was and that he quite frankly had no idea when his last meal had been. For a genius, his short-term memory for certain things was surprisingly terrible. “You’re pale as a ghost, Sherlock,” Molly said, interrupting his thoughts. “Food is a good idea,” he replied at last. “Food it is,” Molly remarked with a chuckle. ++ It was about eight o’clock in the morning and Sherlock had woken up and wandered into the kitchen in the home he shared with his brother.  To his surprise, he found his brother seated at the breakfast table, serenely perusing the day’s newspaper. “You’re up early,” said Mycroft, his eyes not leaving the newspaper. “I…have things to prepare,” Sherlock answered rather tentatively. “Things like…breakfast?” asked Mycroft, putting the paper down and gesturing to the opposite end of the table. There lay a perfect setup of hot breakfast, coffee, tea and immaculately arranged silverware for two. Sherlock walked over to the end of the table and scanned the faultlessly prepared food and beverage. He then looked up at his brother, his eyes wide and slightly aghast at his brother’s implication. “Did you make this?” asked Sherlock. “Are you being rhetorical?” asked Mycroft in return. “How did you—” “Know you had a guest?” Mycroft continued for his brother. Mycroft tidied the edges of the newspaper that he had folded earlier and set it aside. He then looked up at his brother and offered a wry smile. “Ms Hooper is technically under my employ, Sherlock. And I take good care of my employees. Especially the ones that can handle you .” It almost felt like a pantomime, for the moment her name had been spoken, Molly had appeared and stood at the entrance to the kitchen. “Good morning, Mr Holmes,” Molly said with a smile. “Good morning, Ms Hooper. I hope you slept well.” Mycroft answered with a smile in return. “I most certainly did,” she replied, “Your brother is a very charming host.” “I am glad to hear of it. Please, make yourself at home,” Mycroft replied, gesturing to the food he had prepared on his brother’s behalf. The sheer normalcy of their interaction left Sherlock flabbergasted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some meetings to chair…” said Mycroft as he got up from his seat and exited the kitchen. Once he had left, Sherlock seemed to regain part of his executive functions and proceeded to sit by Molly. “Would you like a coffee?” Molly asked, reaching for the coffee pot. “Please,” Sherlock replied, passing her his cup. They sat in silence, with Sherlock sipping his coffee and Molly helping herself to some scrambled eggs on toast. “Did you…tell my brother you were here?” asked Sherlock, still perplexed from the moment before. “No, I didn’t. But he warned me it would happen,” Molly replied, now pouring herself a coffee. “Warned you?” “Yes…” Molly continued, casually sipping her coffee, “That last night would happen. And he was right.” “I have to concede, my brother is never wrong,” said Sherlock with a small smirk. “He even used your exact words,” Molly remarked, an amused glint in her eyes. “And what words were those?” “That you and I were the same.” Sherlock paused to take in her words, or more accurately, his brother’s words and he could not help but grin. It genuinely impressed Sherlock how spot on his brother always seemed to be, even though it irritated the living daylight out of him. “I have learnt that there is one thing different about us,” said Sherlock, reaching for a slice of toast. “Oh? And what’s that?” asked Molly, intrigued. “My brother doesn’t seem to annoy you,” said Sherlock with a wry half-smile. “Are you worried I’d fancy him instead?” Molly teased, looking right at Sherlock. Sherlock quite nearly dropped his toast and looked back at her in horror. It amused Molly that his normally blank visage could register such a degree of dread. To assuage him, Molly reached for Sherlock and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I’m joking, Sherlock,” she said. “Don’t make jokes, Molly,” he replied but not without returning the kiss. They continued their breakfast in silence but Sherlock’s mind continued to spin. He had not quite ascertained where Molly stood in the scheme of things, but he was quite satisfied that for now, they stood with each other. “I’ve got a bit of time after breakfast,” said Molly, finishing the last of her coffee. “Would you like me to go through the rest of your case data?” Sherlock turned to her and processed her question. That unwavering way in which she held her gaze when they spoke was something he continued to admire. “We both have a bit of time after breakfast,” said Sherlock, getting up and clearing the breakfast things. “And I’d rather spend it on something else. Wouldn’t you agree?” It was Molly’s turn to process his response. She studied the look in his eyes and when she finally understood what he meant, broke into a smile. “We really are the same,” she said, grinning, as she took his hand and led them both back to bed.   END
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crowsent · 4 years
Text
Whumptober 2019 Delirium
Yusuke Kitagawa, Persona 5, Delirium
CW: Madarame’s shitty parenting, starvation, hallucination, child abuse (minor)
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Akira took one look at him and shook his head. “Stay behind, Fox.” The others nodded absentmindedly, agreeing with Joker’s decision. “You look a bit pale. We’re just going to handle a few requests today, so we won’t even be delving that deep into Mementos.” Yusuke could see the traces of a smile on Joker’s lips, meant to assure him that Yusuke wasn’t being a hindrance by not fighting, that it was perfectly alright for him to stay in the backlines. “Rest up. Don’t push yourself too hard.”
Haru, ever considerate, said, “We should go out to eat after this!” It was met with a chorus of agreements. Ryuji, in particular, hollered in delight, which prompted Morgana to swat him with a paw. “I’m sure we’re all going to be tired after fighting and there’s a place I’ve wanted to go to for so long. It would be much better if we could all go together, right?”
“Right!” Morgana cheered. “Now, onto the mission!”
Yusuke wanted to argue. Proclaim that he was so close to finishing his recreation of “Desire” and turning it into a piece worthy of something. A piece that depicted the inner workings of the heart, a theme that had eluded him for so long. Mementos, a place teeming with the unfettered desires of human souls, would be the perfect reference point from which Yusuke could begin his research into furthering himself as an artist. The designs and aesthetics of each individual level were so vastly removed from each other that Yusuke could analyse them for years and still never fully grasp it in its entirety.
The shadows as well, were of interesting shapes and colours. Why, the giant elephants that could very quickly tire out their group were quite fascinating to look at. Yusuke could stare at them for hours and to have a hands-on experience in a fight would prove beneficial to sparking his creativity. After all, battle sharpened his senses, honed his skills, and allowed him to pinpoint even the smallest minute detail he would otherwise never notice.
He should be on the frontlines, fighting. He’s quite capable of it. Though Akira was right that Yusuke was paler than usual, frailer than usual, he was certain that he would not be a burden. Admittedly, his aim might be impaired by the fact that his vision was swimming, but if he widened his range, then surely he would be able to hit something. Or at the very least, push the shadows towards someone whose vision wasn’t filled with black dots.
But ultimately, it was not his decision to make. And before he could even conjure up a convincing argument, Akira had decided on a party, and Morgana had already shifted. Whatever words he might have thought to say died on the tip of his tongue and Yusuke followed the others onto the bus, accepting the lack of stimulation for today’s trip into Mementos.
It was a shame. While working on the sequel to his Desire, Yusuke had several, smaller pieces he needed to finish. His art teacher hadn’t caught on to his slump as of yet, but it would be a matter of time before Yusuke’s incompetence was revealed. He needed to do something to prevent that. There were several half-painted canvases he had at the Kosei dorms, but lately, whenever he picked up a brush, his artistry simply fled.
What is he to do without inspiration?
Mementos, in a way, was Yusuke’s temporary answer to the drought he was facing. If he could fight, if he could feel death reaching its bony fingers out, attempting to grasp him, trying to drag him from the mortal realm and into the land of the forsaken, then surely, he would discover something new, something breathtaking, something that he absolutely must capture with paint.
Oh well. A lost opportunity is a lost opportunity. Akira -no- Joker, he was Joker here, was flexible and fair. If one of the Thieves wanted to fight, he let them, but should he deem them sick or tired or in Yusuke’s case, severely exhausted, then no amount of negotiation would change his mind. The only way Yusuke was fighting, was if the party was ambushed by a Shadow far too powerful for them to handle and Joker called backup.
Compared to that scenario, Yusuke would much rather go a day without having anything interesting to look at.
He could still try gleaning something from the dark cavernous depths he could see outside Morgana’s window though. It wasn’t quite like experiencing everything directly, but it would have to do. Yusuke pulled out the sketchbook he had tucked in the coat of his thief outfit and a pencil and watched the walls run. Sketching something, anything, when he was starving proved to be a challenge, but one that he was already familiar with. It would be no different than he was at the shack. Although, every jolt of the Mona Bus reminded Yusuke that he hadn’t eaten anything since
Since.
He can’t remember. It couldn’t be less than a week ago, when he turned in a project for his class. A mediocre piece that somehow fooled his instructor into thinking that Yusuke was not in the slump he was in. Technically masterful brushstrokes and a vague, abstract subject can get one far, apparently, despite hunger and fatigue. Yusuke hasn’t eaten.
He was starving. There was food being sold at the Kosei cafeteria, and if Yusuke remembered correctly, he had done some grocery shopping just the other day. Bread and jam, with one or two cans of sardines, but if he wanted, he could easily get some food for himself when he got back.
Not that it mattered. Yusuke could postpone having a meal until after he’s finished at least one of his projects. Worldly attachments prevent you from painting to your fullest potential. You must cast aside your pain and your hunger and focus on nothing but art. Art is the only thing you will excel at and you must devote all of yourself to perfect that craft.
If Yusuke focused on eating, on food, on base desires, then he would never create the masterpieces that he was surely capable of. Art is pain. Art is suffering. Art is beauty that can only be achieved through dedication. Food can wait, even as his stomach felt empty. Great art is worth suffering for and until you create something worth your food, you’re not getting a bite. It’s all for you, Yusuke. Don’t you see? This is how true art is created. It’s all for your sake. I’m doing this for you so be a good boy and paint.
Absently, Yusuke found himself nodding.
“Uh, Fox? You good man?” Ryuji sat with Yusuke near the back of the bus and nudged Yusuke’s arm. “What’cha doin?”
Yusuke turned away from the window to look at Ryuji. The skull mask looked menacing in the yellow light of the Adyeshach levels. “Isn’t it obvious?” Ryuji shook his head, the confused curl of his lips visible. “I’m sketching ideas for my new piece.”
Ryuji’s eyes darted to Yusuke’s sketchbook, then to his face. “Right. Hey Panther?” On Ryuji’s other side, Ann jolted to attention from her nap. Ryuji tapped her arm repeatedly and gestured to Yusuke. “I think I might be going insane so check for me. Does Fox have a sketchbook in his hands?”
“Ugh. You woke me up for this?” Ann slumped back into her seat and punched Ryuji in the shoulder. Yusuke found himself nodding. How can he sketch without a sketchbook?
“Of course Fox doesn’t have anything in his hands. Don’t be stupid.”
Wait.
“I assure you I have been spending my hour productively.” After all, if Yusuke can’t fight, he should at least spend the trip to Mementos sketching out ideas. “The yellow light brings an ambience to Mementos that I would otherwise not find in the real world. I would not be such a fool as to waste this opportunity.”
This got Ann wide awake. She shifted in her seat, leaning over Ryuji to stare Yusuke down with narrowed eyes. “Oracle!” Ann yelled. Futaba, sitting near the front, turned around. “What colour is Mementos?”
Futaba made a non-committal noise. “Kind of purple, kind of red. Why?”
She was wrong, but Yusuke elected not to comment on that.
“Doesn’t he look paler than usual?”
By now, everyone was turning to look at him. Yusuke could see the worry behind their masks. They were worrying too much.
“I’m perfectly fine.” Yusuke assured.
And promptly passed out.
-------------------------------------------------------------
“Is he okay?”
“The Doctor called the school dorms and told them that Yusuke was suffering from stress and mental fatigue but... she said that should be fine.”
“He can stay at Leblanc right? I’ll talk to Sojiro about that.”
“Right. Right. Yeah. Okay. I’ll get some blankets on the bed for him. I can sleep on the couch.”
“Dude. I can’t believe that he just collapsed. Makoto almost crashed the car.”
“I panicked! I didn’t think that Yusuke would just faint like that.”
“Still, I can’t help but wonder. Why did he pass out like that? Um. I’m still quite new here so I don’t know if I’m overstepping, but he doesn’t seem very healthy to me.”
“He’s always so pale…”
“Hey, Guinea Pig.”
“Takemi. How is he?”
“Fine. It’s nothing life threatening.”
There were disembodied voices around him, floating in the air. Yusuke blinked his eyes open to find drab white walls and the stench of sterilisation pungent in the air. It smelled like a hospital. Or a clinic. He hasn’t been to one recently. Why was he here? Or was the room redecorated without his knowing?
“What happened to him, Doctor?”
A woman stood at the foot of his bed. It wasn’t one of sensei’s pupils, but she was fairly young. Perhaps a visitor? No. Sensei did not allow visitors to stay at the shack. She had unusually blonde hair. Yusuke would love to paint it. He might just make that the next piece he submitted. She stood next to a woman in a white lab coat; a doctor.
“Exhaustion and fatigue plus an inordinate amount of stress caused him to collapse. Not to mention delirium and auditory and visual hallucinations that stem from malnutrition and sleep deprivation.”
“Oh no.”
“But when I messaged Inari just the other day he told me he had some food at the dorms! Did he not eat them?”
“Possibly.”
Yusuke can’t eat just yet. He had to create a new piece, before the deadline, before Sensei gets angry at his lack of productivity. He can’t just lay around doing nothing. Yusuke shifted and everyone in the room turned their eyes on him. What an odd group.
A young man with jet black hair sat beside Yusuke and gently pushed him back onto the bed. “Yusuke. Sleep. Just. Just sleep. I should have realised sooner, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise,” Yusuke slurred. The black-haired man wore glasses. Yusuke would like to paint him too. “I can’t eat until I finish something. Sensei said so.”
“Sensei?” The black-haired man had lovely black eyes that matched his hair. His brows were creased in worry. “Yusuke. He’s not here. You’re safe. He can’t make you do anything anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Sensei stood by the door, scowling. He looked like a shogun, with a shiny gold robe and gaudy make up. Yusuke tried to point. The black-haired man held his arm down. There was an IV drip in the crook of Yusuke’s elbow. “He’s right behind you.”
The doctor sighed. “It will be a while before he’s back to normal. I suggest that you all get some rest.”
“I’ll stay with him,” said the black-haired man.
Sensei would get angry if there were visitors in the shack. Yusuke should have them all leave, for their sakes. But. A part of him didn’t want to be left alone. His eyes were heavy and he slid them shut. The black-haired young man looked worried.
Yusuke was starving.
He needed to finish another painting soon.
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