#Yes I know Skull's head is a bit too small to be in proportion with twist

[epic-and-kitty]

More Twist doodles in this new style I have, with a cameo from Skull!

#splatoon #Splatoon OC #My art #My OCs #skull coroika #Octoling girl #Oc Twist #sweet chili sauce #She's so damn cute I love her so much #Sugar Skull Squid #Yes I know Skull's head is a bit too small to be in proportion with twist #But it's still cute so whatever #self ship #oc x canon #I love twist so much guys 😭

[ofcowardiceandkings]

UH WHOA not only am i posting art but theres so much of it lmfao

ive been meaning to do this for mmmm a long time, and i decided to get it cleaned up so i can present folks with my homebrew/headcanon/thingy for the d&d playable races !! i know ive missed a few off but these are ones ive seen more of over all in my own travels in Nerd Game lol

ive only DMed one thing so far (our lost mines of phandelver adventure was a total blast but oh boy the shenanigans) but im like ... drowning in it all, have been for a loooonng time since i first played Neverwinter Nights when i was like 11, i just didnt have a party to mess with yet lmao (fingers crossed our schedules get sorted so the campaign goes ahead soooooonnn).. so ive been developing some of these various homebrewy headcanons for uh over half my life

getting them all together in one place like this was unbelievably fun !!

gonna yell under the cut for a bit about it more but very shortly i’ll be opening for d&d character / item / creature commissions so watch this space or pop me a message to get in a queue <3

these headcanon things are half based on “that looks cool” and Sciencing. a lot of the more humanoid in some way races ive really pulled on human ancestors a lot, as well as muscle development in different sports. And Animals, because ye

i haven’t included humans in this mammoth endeavour because we should all know what a Human People looks like, and their proportions aren’t any different in the world of D&D i run at least lol similarly, because they’re an exact intersection between humans & either elves or orcs, the half-species arent included on here either [shrugs] i WILL talk about them some here though !!

i might eventually update this with some npc generators ive made using my own descriptors and headcanons >.>

ELVES av height; 5′6 | heads-high; 8.5 generally long limbed, with fine wispy hair, elves senses are very heightened. helping in this, their eyes are almond-shaped with slightly narrow pupils, their large radar-like ears are very mobile, and the underside of their noses are covered in a lightly damp pitted leather. part of their ability to maintain grace with an elongated frame, aside from longer springy feet, is aided by a tail built somewhat like a horse, with a skirt of hair down its length, only with a slightly longer bone to it than would be seen in the typical pony. excepting a very light dusting on their lower limbs, they typically have very little body hair. sometimes their skin shimmers, or freckles sparkle.

GNOME av height; 3′6 | heads-high; 6.5  gnomes are almost like diminutive elves with a few key differences. their hair tends to be wild if left alone, but is often styled wildly anyway. set rather low on rounded but long faces, their large almond eyes are keen, and small hands very nimble. it’s not sure if its due to their close environments or frequent encounters with accidents in experiments, but their skulls are surprisingly hard, and they possess small horn nubs made of bone and coated in keratin. their small petal-shaped ears are set low and point outward, and are able to move a little to catch sound. they may look fragile due to their size and build but they are pretty hardy and more than capable.

HALFLING av height; 3′ | heads-high; 6 a very hardy but soft and welcoming folk, halflings are built for walking and surviving well, often coming from a semi-nomadic tradition. they typically have round faces with stronger jaws and soft round eyes, and their large ears are pointed upright. their figures easily get a little curved and chubby, especially when they have easy access to decent food, in preparation for harder times and the odd period of hunkering down for some downtime, say in poor weather. truly the most functional part of a halfling is their short powerful legs with big fairly flexible hard feet, and lion-like tail for balance, both insulated by hair.

DWARF av height; 4′3 | heads-high; 6.5 dwarves are accustomed to life in tougher terrain, typically with large parts spent in the ground. their broad frames are also squat down with thick short limbs, for huge power and for life in tunnels. wide feet keep them steady and sensitive to significant seismic energy in the earth, and wide hands aid in their work and the feel of the rock. their large round ears stick outward and are slightly mobile, large noses help condition the air, and high-set eyes with huge irises aid their vision in darker spaces and the ability to peek over things without being fully exposed. their skulls are also very thick just in case of falling rocks. all dwarves are very hairy and grow beards, taking pride in keeping and styling it.

GOLIATH av height; 7′6 | heads-high; 10 a totally different variety of rock & mountain people to dwarves, they do share a few traits. a goliath’s thick limbs are long with a big reach and huge stride, with big hands and feet for steady movement. as well as being hugely tall, they are broad, especially in their shoulders, with a long neck elevating their head further. their facial features tend to be very sharp, but long. they have little to no body hair, and they often dont grow head hair either, but decorate their skulls with tattoos. as they get older, the upper surfaces of their body develop pebble like growths under the skin, often in similar patterns to their habitats.

FIRBOLG av height; 7′6 | heads high; 9 firbolg typically live in deep forests but are actually a giantkin - although not too unbelievable given their huge height and thick build. large parts of their body are hairy, nearly furry, and their head hair is thick and wild, and they often have facial hair too. their large heads have long thick noses with an almost bovine leather to their top lips, and wide set eyes. their fluffy ears are very mobile, but when relaxed they drop and point downward. their nails are thick and sturdy, aiding in being even more dexterous while being so big. sometimes they are covered in layers of clothing, but they possess a tiny goat-like tail.

DRAGONBORN av height; 6′6 | heads-high; 8 dragonborns diverged from true dragons in the ancient past, likely due to a strong magical influence of some kind, but not so long ago that the bloodlines of dragons are absent from the race of dragonborn. (the illustration shows the typical head-shape and placement of ears, each bloodline has its own features). their chest is still very round like an animal, with deep chest muscles, a slightly less mobile shoulder, and short upper arm. their 4 clawed hands and feet somewhat resemble that of a true dragon, but smaller and a little less dangerous. the length of a dragonborn’s tail can vary from just the length from hips to floor, or up to their full height, and as well as being very useful for balance and dexterity, can be used for fighting. different bloodlines can interbreed, with it being a matter of chance which line is present in offspring (although metallic is more dominant over gemstone, and chromatic over both ... (ah yeah gemstone, ill get to that soon))

AARAKOCRA av height; 5′ | heads-high; 8.5 as an avian species, especially one capable of flight, the aarakocra’s bones are hollow, making them on the one hand very agile but a little fragile. their large wingspan nearly brushes the floor, and their wings attach high on their back, through to a deep avian keel. their arms have a long forearm, which is covered in bird-like scutes, and their 4 clawed hands are still remarkably talon like which quite short palms and very mobile thumbs. their legs are very long and powerful, and backed by a typically wedge shaped tail. more often than not, their physical appearance takes after raptor species of birds, but different populations can trend towards many different appearances, including parrots and waterfowl.

TABAXI av height; 6′6 | heads-high; 9 tabaxi are an unusual sight in many places still. their cat-like bodies are very flexible and suited to their athletic climbing lifestyle. their long hands and feet have very a powerful grip, and they can retract their front claws. their long feline face is something like a cheetah or a clouded-leopard, with large highly mobile ears, large eyes and a strong nose. 

ORC

av height; 6′6 | heads-high; 8

orcs are very powerfully build, with heavy muscles and thick bodies overall. compared to other humanoids they can look a little gorilla-like. their short legs are usually a little bent to carry weight better instead of busting knees when locked. their course wiry hair grows profusely all over their body. their strong nails often grow out a little pointed. their large thick heads have high heavy brows and protruding lower jaws, short round noses and low bud-shaped ears which stick outward. the lower jaw and sometimes upper contain tusks, sometimes multiple tusks, which are greatly cared for and very impressive.

HALF-ELVES av height; 5′6 | heads-high; 8.25 a half-elf’s build will be somewhere between human and elf, often inheriting something of an elf’s eyes and nose leather, shorter elf ears, and maybe a small tufted tail something like a rabbits

HALF-ORCS av height; 6′ | heads-high; 8 a half-orc’s build will be somewhere between human and elf, often inheriting something of an orc’s skin colour and dark and profuse wiry hair, shorter orc ears, and some small tusks.

GOBLIN av height; 4′ (stood straight) | heads high; 5.5 bat/cat-like ears, nose something like bear/cat, domed head, arms/legs same length, sparse wiry hair, claws, short digits, lithe but very strong and hardy

HOBGOBLIN av height; 5′3 (stood straight) | heads high; 8 bat/cat-like ears but pinched at the base, nose something like bear/cat, very domed head, arms slightly longer than legs, claws, sparse wiry hair, quite broad

BUGBEAR av height; 7′ (stood straight) | heads high; 7.5 bat-like ears, long domed head something like a lion/bear, arms very long, nearly totally covered in thick fur, big tusks and often fangs, very bear-like hands/feet, big claws, very broad

TRITON av height; 5′2 | heads high; 7.5 lithe but well muscled, quite streamlined for a humanoid, frilled ears, pretty flat face, fins on limbs/back, “hair” is tendrils/fins/etc, short strong legs & long arms, long webbed fingers, long flipper feet, gills along front/side of chest

YUAN-TI PUREBLOOD av height; 5′9 | heads high; 9 domed angular faces, lips are not humanoid, triangular eyes, scales, quite flat nostrils with sense pits following along underside cheekbones, very little cartilage in ear, some may have cobra hoods extending out of ear instead, very tall and thin with small hands/feet, reptilian claws

CENTAUR av height; 7′ | heads high; 10 fairly stocky pony body (usually about 4′10 at withers), very muscled front end, long neck & sloping human-shoulders, long faces with long broad noses, prominent lips, horse-like ears sticking up and out, their whole scalp can grow hair but shaved sides are common, can grow hair nearly all down human-spine

KOBOLD av height; 2′6 | heads high; 5.5 almost alligator-like head & eyes, tiny nub horns, quite animal-like chest, arms/legs same length, thick stubby tail same length of body, 4 digits with stubby claws, lithe but strong for their tiny size

KENKU av height; 4′ | heads high; 5.5 corvid features, deep chest but no keel, longer arms than legs, 4 digits with talons, hands human-like but scaled, wedge-like tail half of leg height, not-quite fully bird feet.

LIZARDFOLK av height; 6′6 | heads high; 7 iguana-like, egg-shaped head, neck wattle, line of back spines varies in height, long arms and legs, very reptilian hands and feet with long claws, elbow spikes

GRUNG av height; 3′ | heads high; 6.5 large heads, neck leads nearly directly into torso, super flexible, very long limbs, triangular body, short upper arm, shorter thigh, large hands/feet, 4 digits

LOXODON av height; 7′6 | heads high; 5.5 large head, trunk as long as torso, short legs / long arms, huge bones under thick muscle, thick skin, 4 digits with thick nails, large hands / rounded cushioned feet, v e r y broad and thick build, small tail with tuft at the end, 

TORTLE av height; 7′6 | heads-high; 7 thick wrinkled skin encased in huge shell, stooping posture with neck extending forward, very long arms & short legs, 5 digits with reptilian claws, boxy head, heart shaped from above with features set far forward, tail to balance stoop

MINOTAUR av height; 7′ | heads-high; 9 powerful build with thick bones, typically well muscled, bovine head on thick neck, often very large horns, fairly long tufted tail, big hooved feet, broad 4 digit hands with thick nails, hair length varies

PLANE THINGS ???

listen this was a lot easier in the edition i first encountered lol anyway, until anything else comes up in extra material im just applying a few square & rectangle venn diagram rules

a useful word; planetouched. i dont really know why WotC seems to have dropped that term for at least 5e (i missed 4e entirely) but it refers to a “mortal native outsider” with lineage or influence from a plane other than the material, so “a material plane native creature with non-native plane influence, which can die”

GENASI height depends on material plane parent the result of a material plane / elemental pair (usually genies). they usually take after their material parent in build and broader features, but their elemental heritage comes through in features like magical hair, bright coloured eyes, unusual body temperatures, innate magics, etc.  genasi can interbreed with themselves, and the crossing of two elements can produce some interesting results (im working on that :>)

TIEFLINGS height depends on material plane parents this is the first of the squares & rectangles, and tbh its basically canonical. a tiefling is the result of a material plane humanoid being born with fiendish* influence. the word ‘tiefling’ refers specifically to a human with fiendish influence, but is also an umbrella term for ALL fiendish planetouched creatures. these DO have some names mentioned in the play material ! fey’ri = elves, tanarukk = orcs, wisplings = halflings, maeluth = dwarves, etc. so all fiendish planetouched are tieflings, but not all tieflings are human-based. the fiendish influence can be dormant for years or just string along for decades. AnyWay, all of them have horns, most have tails, odd skin or eye colour, and others can have all sorts of extraplanar features. *(fiends are another venn diagram thing in D&D, its an umbrella term for both demons and devils) 

AASIMAR height depends on material plane parents aaand this is the second of the squares & rectangles, the not-strictly-canon one. okay duplicate what i said about tieflings, but make it about celestials not fiends, basically lmao. aasimar is an umbrella term, but also a human/celestial planetouched specifically! unlike the above, since its my homebrew concept i dont have other words specifically for other races’ celestial planetouched, but i’ll get there watch this space lol EnyHoo, they all tend to have a strange glow about them in general, but usually in their eyes, and maybe hair especially. it isnt uncommon for them to have a kind of halo around themselves, or glowing glyphs/runes/sigils on or around them either. while MOST dont have full wings, a dusting of feathers isnt unusual. the features of celestials can vary a lot more. for example, unicorns and leonals are actually celestials!

aaand the slightly odd-ball;

WARFORGED height depends on build purpose these are an interesting case, as warforged are actually constructs, brought into this world by the fusing of organic muscle (like wood or leathery material) to an inorganic shell (like stone or metal), imbuing a life-giving fluid of some sort to act like blood, and bringing life to it by a powerful ritual - a unique glyph etched into their heads. as their name suggests they are usually created to become soldiers, or other army positions, although they could be suited to other purposes. unlike most constructs, they are fully self-aware and have a mind on par with humans. they do not need sleep (but require rest) and they also do not naturally reproduce. if they live longer than their purpose, then they are turned loose to deal with the world as they wish. as they are MADE they can vary greatly depending on who made them, and for what exact purpose - although they tend to have beak-like mouths, and 3 digit hands and 2 toed feet.

AV. HEIGHT CHART FROM LEFT TO RIGHT !!! human - elf - dwarf - gnome - halfling - orc - goliath - firbolg - dragonborn - aarakocra - tabaxi - kenku - hobgoblin - bugbear - yuanti - triton - kobold - grung - lizardfolk - tortle - centaur - minotaur - loxodon

oooboy that was a lot of waffle :L

#dungeons and dragons #dnd #elves #dwarves #gnomes #halflings #hobbits #orcs #goliath #firbolg #dragonborn #aarakocra #tabaxi #kenku #goblins #hobgoblins #bugbears #triton #kobold #grung #lizardfolk #tortle #centaur #minotaur #loxodon #genasi #elementals #warforged #tieflings #aasimar

[cozycryptidcorner]

The Mad Prince, Chapter 11 (sfw)

Chapter 10

“Are you sure?” You ask, gaping, and Clementine glares at you in response. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of how she has dedicated her entire life to identifying, hunting down, and killing driders, all while on the bloodied front lines of a war, so she is currently an expert on such a topic.

“Am I sure that the front line footage that some soldiers died to send back to base is somehow fabricated?” She asks, testily.

Your brain is buzzing like a thousand fireflies have crawled into your ears. “But that doesn’t make any sense, Clem.” 

“You’re absolutely correct,” she still sounds vaguely pissed, but that’s her default tone. “Which means that there’s more than meets the eye, and we now have to figure out what.”

 The keias values honesty, Elias’ words come back, unbidden, if you ask, he will answer.

 “We can’t go prodding around now, though, because that will throw a lot of weird suspicion on you.” You bite at the skin around your thumb, trying to figure out how to go about this in the most delicate way possible. 

After a moment of hard silence where you are almost too aware of how loud your breathing is, Clementine prods, “you and the prince or whatever he actually is weren’t acting too couple-y.”

Annoyance starts dripping into the hollow of your chest, and you feel a build of angry pressure beginning to rise. “He- he didn’t tell me he was engaged.” 

For the first time since her bubbly mask fell off, she shows some semblance of human emotion by almost choking on her spit. Quickly, she gets herself under control and shakes her head as though she might have expected such, then sighs.

 “I mean, and his fiance was assassinated. Elias told me she died of sudden heart failure, but like she was a drow and-”

“A drow?” She turns to you again, her eyes narrowed until they were almost slits, “as in, two legs and walking upright? Are you sure?”

“Y-yes,” the indignancy of being lied to by omission is still thrumming through your chest, “and he apparently really loved her.” 

“Obviously so, because it would have been rather illegal for him to marry outside of his species.” Clem sits back up from her lounging position, plucking a flower that grew right in front of her legs.

You don’t like all this new information being rained down upon so quickly, but you suck in your breath and try to take this one in stride. There’s a dull thudding in your head, like a distant drumbeat. “So there are race-based marriage laws?”

 “Of course, didn’t you know?”

No, you’re suddenly acutely aware of how unprepared you are. “The matchmakers didn’t make me aware of that.” You suppose it does explains a lot, like how stressed the prince is at you meeting the rest of his family, or how he doesn’t seem to want you to go out and explore on your own, and such. 

Clementine lets out a gruff sigh, you suppose from frustration at having to hold your hand like a toddler throughout a warzone. You try to not let that bother you. It’s… not really your fault, is it? You didn’t want this to happen, if you could go back to your completely shitfaced self as you were about to enter all pertinent information to Starward Matchmakers™ glowing neon booth, you would bludgeon the back of your head with a bat.

“Okay, so someone is trying to kill you,” she holds up one finger, “and we know from that assistant guy that they are very capable of doing so,” she adds another finger, “and you aren’t even in the good graces of your princely other half, assuming that drider is who he says he is.”

You swallow thickly, feeling positively ill, pressing your fingertips into the pressure points on your temples in the hopes your brain might untangle. “Clementine?”

“Yeah.”

“The Starward Matchmakers™ did match me with the prince, right? This isn’t some kind of weird mistake? Or like… or like what they were trying to do with you?”

“Do you know anyone with the budget of a large government’s military that can handle a bribe of such proportions who might think it’s funny to pull such a dangerously cosmic prank?”

 “No.” You look down at your hands as the last bit of hope that this might all be a nightmarish misunderstanding slips through your fingers.

Clementine softens, though only slightly, letting out another sigh and very awkwardly giving you a pat on the back, which is about the most she’ll ever offer in the way of sympathy. “Tough it out. Paint a pretty smile on that face of yours and maybe make out with him a little.”

 “Clementine!” You raise your voice, then look self consciously back at your guards as they assess whether or not you need their aid. “That’s not how this works.” 

“This is exactly how this works, kid, even if he’s an alien spider, he’s still a male.” She rolls her eyes. “And stop acting like a prude.” 

“Yeah, but he is,” another wave of frustration razes through your blood and right to your fingertips. “One time I kissed him, he thought it was essentially a marriage proposal.”

 Her face wrinkles into a grimace, but she seems to take in marginal good humor. “Okay, so he’s a virgin. That makes things easier, maybe just show him your ankle or something, he’d drool all over it.”

You’re going to say something snippy in response, maybe tell her that she should do the ankle-showing, but the mental image of the fucking drider prince of Lolth freezing as he stares at a bare leg and foot does have a level of absurdity to it that makes you choke your words down into a wry laugh. “I don’t know, maybe it will give him brain damage.”

“All the better to finish this war finally,” Clem stretches out her arms, “Anything else you’d like to fill me in on?”

“Heikka Nisesh, you know, the famous war criminal? He was supposed to be my first physician, but I threw a big enough fit that I ended up with a basic drow doctor.” 

She immediately tenses, her entire body going into an alert that is unique to a trained soldier. “Tell me you’re joking. Now.”

“I’m not.” 

There’s another expression in her eyes, now, one that you’re not at all familiar with. Panic, of which she’s obviously trying to settle so the guards don’t become suspicious and approach to get within hearing range. With a shuddering, tense breath, she shakes her head and tries to orient herself back into reality. With no small amount of room in her tone to be anything more than a command, she says, “know that they and I mustn’t ever meet, do you understand? We can’t cross paths, or this whole thing is going to dissolve.”

“Do you want to talk-”

“No.” She stands, glancing over at the guards. “I’d like a tour now.” 

Shakily, you agree, getting up so fast you almost faint. There’s a brief dizziness rattling around in your skull, but you manage to get everything under control enough to show her around.

Whenever you aren’t in the gardens, you have to be very, very careful of dancing around talking normally and not revealing too much. Because ‘girl talk’ is supposed to be about boy troubles and gossip, but having a whole conversation about the crown prince monarch’s shortcomings when there are an indeterminate amount of people listening and reporting back to him doesn’t hold any appeal.

So the present conversation immediately drops as you give her your very restricted-access tour, the long hallways of the floor she is on, all the while she disguises her memorization of all exits and entrances as admiration for the architecture and ornate doors. There’s an odd kind of pinch throbbing between your eyes, and you have to stop for a moment to give yourself a moment to breathe. 

“Are you alright?” For once, Clementine drops a shred of her false personality, her hand grabbing onto your arm almost tightly to hold you up if you faint.

 “I just- I think I need to sit down.” The edges of your eyes blur somewhat, the top of your brain fuzzing over like someone poured a soft drink into your skull.

 “Can you walk?” She asks, glaring at the guards when one of them steps forward, probably to carry you.

 “Yeah,” you lie, hoping that you can just will yourself to keep from passing out, “I think your room is close enough.”

When you wobble just a bit, Clementine wraps her arm around your waist and props you up with her hip, then quickly gives up the strain of one arm and trades it in to pick you up like a baby.

You protest, of course you do, but there’s little you can do to actually wriggle out of her grip. Shockingly, it’s not the first time she’s had to carry you because of an almost skull-splitting headache, though the last time it was because she side-swiped your legs out from under you and your forehead was the thing to take the brunt of the fall. She also wasn’t so nice about it, either, dragging you to the side of the room by the arm like a ragdoll to await a medic.

Now, you suppose with the guards eying you, she can’t yank your limp body back to her room, and you’d honestly rather let her carry you than one of the drow guards. Once you get inside her apartment, she almost unkindly tosses you onto the couch, mumbling something about an ice pack or blanket.

“Did you call for someone?” She asks, and it takes your brain a muddled moment to realize that she isn’t talking to you.

Quiet mumbling, all things you can’t catch. 

Almost impatiently, she yells, “are you both fucking daft? Call the assistant, what’s his face. The one with the white hair! Yes I mean the prince’s first servant, who else did you think I’m talking about?” Her words shift into a language you don’t understand as she walks over to the kitchen, but you’ve heard enough foreign swear words to know that she’s probably cussing them out of a job.

 It doesn’t take too long for Elias to arrive, or maybe it took a long time, and your brain is just so fried you didn’t notice.

“Why isn’t there any ice in the foodkeep?” Clementine’s already pounced, and you’re not sure if this is her ‘worried best friend’ character or her actual self about to dress someone down for putting one of her soldiers in danger.

“For what, exactly?” Elias sounds slightly taken aback by the show of aggression, something rattling in his hands.

“For her head, stupid, she’s almost burning up!” Again, her language dissolves into something unintelligible, though her tone gets the message across. Maybe she’s showing a bit of both sides for your sake.

 “I have some pills,” he almost sounds defensive, now, “it will help with the pressure, her head should-”

”Give me that,” Clem snaps, and you hear even more rattling as she looks over whatever he was about to give you. “What the hell are these?”

“Painkillers,” Elias takes her fury in stride, probably having dealt with much more significant threats in his day, “the best and highest dose for her human body. They were just imported from one of your human pharmaceutical companies, Bionova™, it’s what the matchmaker files suggested we get her.”

There’s another round of rattling, but then footsteps as Clementine sits herself on the couch, just in front of where your legs tug under a blanket she absentmindedly threw onto you earlier, and hands you the bottle.

Now you manage to sit up, despite the angry tightening in your skull, like each individual blood vessel in your brain is squeezing the gray matter down a size. Holding the pill bottle in one hand while scratching your arm nervously in the other, you ask Elias one more time. “You say these were imported?”

“Straight over the border,” Elias promises, “no one would want anything to happen to you.”

 I beg to differ, you think, but pop the lid open anyway. The dull thrumming in your head has you almost desperate to do anything to get yourself rid of it, so you put one of the pills on your tongue and swallow it dry. Clementine, at least, is already rummaging through her cabinets until she finds a glass to fill with water.

“The keias has been notified of her condition, and will come as soon as he is able.”

You try not to roll your eyes, to be entirely honest, even shifting your irises sends a sharp nail through your head. “Tell him not to rush on my behalf.” 

Again, Clementine sits by your side, handing a glass of water over and watches you gulp it down like a dehydrated animal. Elias, also, seems to watch you with a nervous regard in his eyes and dismisses the soldiers with nothing more than a couple of words. When the extra ears are out of the suite, he turns back over to you.

 “This doesn’t leave this room,” he starts, glaring over at Clementine, “but I want you to be aware that he can’t seem to have any weaknesses for you, which is why he isn’t rushing as quickly as I’m sure you’d like.”

Letting out a breath, the pain of the headache getting to you, you ask, “why are you telling me this?”

Elias looks at you, not with anger, with disappointment, and that’s the thing that makes you feel almost ashamed with how you have been treating the prince as of late. “So you do not feel abandoned, your grace.”

Oh, right, it’s back with your grace, Elias’ own way of giving you a super polite cold shoulder. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Also, just as a precaution, the prince will want your doctor to look over your state, but I believe that it would be pertinent to have a so-called house call instead of going down to the clinic in person.”

“Probably, yeah.” The aching throbbing between your eyes has reduced your language usage down to the basics, and it takes you a hot minute to process anything anyone else says. Clementine had been missing for a moment, but she suddenly returns with a damp cloth she places over your eyes. 

There’s a tense, but calm conversation, and as much as you’d like to try paying attention, you can only focus on the dull throbbing in the rear of your head. More talking. You curl up into a ball, the couch large enough so that your knees don’t hand off the back, and you try to dig your fingers into any pressure points of your skull in the hopes it might ease the tension.

Suddenly, a hand comes to rub the side of your arm. “Hey, princess,” Clementine whispers almost soothingly, “you’re going to wait for the doctor and spend the night here, okay?”

You mumble something in affirmation.

 The doctor comes, you hear her voice and feel her prodding touches, but you don’t feel like you’re capable of even offering a meager greeting. There’s a pinch of something in the crook of your elbow, and the feelings cease, slowly. You don’t remember the point in which you fell asleep. Only that you wake up with Clementine conked out in the chair opposite of the furniture arrangement. 

When you wake back up, it’s because your head feels like someone took an ax to your skull, it almost causes you to faint from the pain itself. All you can do is lay on the couch, arms wrapped around your head. It feels like every bone in your body is bruised or fractured, but your head takes the brunt of the pain.

Someone is talking again. You don’t have the ability to focus on them. 

You’re not sure if you can fucking survive this, but gentle hands help you sit up, and there’s yet another sharp, pinching pain in your arm. After a moment, there’s a softness washing over you, like a manifestation of light and comfort flows through your veins and eases the suffering. 

You’ve felt this way before. 

When you open your eyes, the room is washed in a kaleidoscope of colors you hadn’t noticed until now, and you’re surrounded by a bunch of people that you know, you think you know, but your brain takes its sweet time putting names to faces. “Oh. Hello.”

The big one puts a hand on your head, running it down the side of your face. You don’t think you mind so much, but the smaller one is watching him with the eyes of a predator. “How are you feeling?”

“Very fucking high.” You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, just to make a noise.

“That’s completely normal, keias.” There’s a taller woman, her robes a pleasantly warm gray. “The drugs have overwhelmed her system, she will be more lucid in a few minutes.”

“Of course.” The big one turns to you again, and you look at his face. He’s… angular, alien, but beautiful nonetheless. You don’t think you’re afraid of him.

“What does that mean?” You ask, your lips heavy and difficult to move.

“What?” It’s the smaller one that speaks. 

“That word they just said. Keias.” You think you know what it means, but you want them to explain it to make sure. 

“It’s a royal title?” The big one stares at you, quizzically, as though trying to figure out a puzzle in front of him.

“A royal title?” You don’t think you’ve ever met actual royalty before, at least, you don’t think you have. There’s a lot you don’t remember about yourself. “Are you like a king?”

The smaller one snickers at this, then says, “babe, no. He’s a prince.”

“A prince?” You look at him again, your eyes wide. “You’re a prince?”

He doesn’t seem flattered, only oddly concerned. Turning to the female in robes, he says, “she didn’t possess memory loss when she was last dosed.”

“I gave her a different, faster-acting painkiller.” The woman taps on the screen of a datapad. “It works to block out different parts of the brain, but she is lucid enough to get on a starship, memories, or not.”

“So it’s not actually dulling the pain, it’s just telling the brain not to process it?” The smaller woman asks arms crossed over her chest. 

“Exactly, which is why it’s fast-acting and doesn’t lose effectiveness over time. The memories can be a side effect, but they should return when the drug filters out of her system.”

“You say ‘starship,’” the prince!!! observes, his many eyes narrowing slightly.

 “I did indeed, your grace.” The female is not intimidated. “I think it would be best if my patient spent some time in lower gravity conditions, which can be best produced in a starship while in space.”

 The prince stares at her for just a moment, as though he cannot believe she would suggest such a thing. “Nisesh says a drug can be produced to aid in here acclimation.”

 The female scoffs. “Nisesh believes they might become a god with enough drugs at their disposal. I mean no disrespect towards you, your grace, but sometimes the best cure is the most obvious one.”

 The prince is quiet for a long, tense moment, but the doctor doesn’t back down. It’s the smaller woman who speaks up, her voice almost laced with an underlying threat, “if that’s what’s best for her, then you need to get it done.”

 His eyes snap up, and he assesses the woman with a critical eye. Then he nods sharply, once. Turning back to the doctor, he says, “how long do you suggest she stay?”

 The doctor taps something onto her datapad. “I would have preferred she acclimate slowly, spending a longer time in orbit than she has, but since her body managed to stay together so well, I think you might find an improvement pain-wise within a day. So long as her body bounces back quickly, mind, because it might take longer for her to recover.”

 “You will join us, then, so you may monitor her condition.” It’s not a request, but an order.

 “Of course, keias,” the doctor bows at him, then steps away, tapping on the datapad.

 “I’m coming, too.” The way the smaller woman speaks leaves little room for arguments. There’s something almost… admirable, you think, about the way she stands up to the bigger one, even though he looks very capable of snapping her human body in half.

 “That is… acceptable,” the prince says.

 Without much thought, you reach over and touch the end of his hair nearest to where you sit, the strands soft and silky as you pull them closer. “Has anyone told you that you have really nice hair?”

 He stares. After a moment that consists of the woman snickering quietly, he says, “actually, yes. Yes, I have.”

 You must have blacked out again because when you wake up, you are not in Clementine’s room. In fact, you’re no longer on Lolth, because the sleek, brilliance of the space is nothing like the solid, ancient architecture that you had grown accustomed to. And just beyond the edge of the large bed you’ve been placed in is a window.

 There are no windows on Lolth, really, because there is nothing to gaze at when a society grows from the inside of their world, instead of the outside. As you sit up, you notice the echoes of a headache pulsing in the back of your skull, where the spine connects, and it feels like you had a rough fall. But when you place your feet onto the thickly threaded rug and stand, you find that you do it with some semblance of ease.

“You’re awake.”

 You almost jump out of your skin, because the prince is hiding so efficiently in the shadows of the room that you didn’t notice him until he spoke. “Y-yes.”

 A moment of awkward silence follows. You’re still wearing the same clothes as you were giving Clementine the tour- oh fuck, Clementine-

 “You were asleep for a day and a half.” His voice interrupts your hazy anxiety. “I was… concerned, but the doctor said your body was repairing itself.”

“I suppose so.” You wrinkle your forehead, realizing there is dryness choking your mouth, tongue something like sandpaper against the inside of your cheek. With little ceremony, you strip out of your outer shirt, your skin singing with no longer being suffocated by cloth, your camisole much more sheer and thin. “I need some water.”

 The prince rises to a stand, “allow me. Please.”

 You’re not sure what he means by that, but he opens one of the cabinets of what you’re now seeing is a starship cabin, then fills a glass to the brim with the tap. His movements are jerking, unfamiliar, as though he’s having his own issues with growing used to a different form of gravity. When he hands you the cup, you’re standing right by the window, staring out at the stars.

“God,” you say, after quietly thanking him, “I forgot how much I missed this view.”

 “They are beautiful,” he says, “it’s difficult to believe that they are each suns of magnificent strength from this distance. They all seem so… small. Insignificant.”

There’s a moment of quiet contemplation as you down the whole glass of water with minimal effort, then you remember what you wanted to ask him before. Looking at his reflection instead of actually making eye contact, you question, “where’s Clementine?”

 “In her own cabin, or perhaps roaming around.” He pauses, mulling something over in his head. “She is- has... character, isn’t she.”

 “You’ve got that right, believe me.” You let out a sigh, vaguely remembering her wordless glares, her face fuzzy in the more recent ones. Then, just for the purpose of watching his face flush dark, you say, “she thinks we should just fuck and make up.”

 “Is- is that how humans solve all their problems?” He asks, though you can see the question was a fight to release. There’s a tension in his shoulders when he talks about sex now, but thankfully, he is without the odd aversion he had before like he’s… like he’s trying.

 Still, the way he says it… you burst out laughing. “Oh, if sex could solve all your problems, then-” you abruptly stop yourself, realizing that this might have been a step too far outside of his comfort zone.

There’s an awkward moment of silence shared as the both of you stare out into the void, then the prince turns around and stares at you, hard, and you feel a trickle of fear thrumming up your spine. Finally, he says, “don’t. Don’t do that.”

You swallow thickly. “Don’t do what?”

“Pull away.” He stares back out to the stars, sharply, all eyes narrowing. “You show me the smallest part of yourself, and then you refuse to give me anything more. I don’t like it when you do that.”

You’re quiet for another moment, then, “well… you didn’t really approve, before.” 

“Didn’t… approve?” He echoes in the fashion of a question, glancing in your direction. “What do you mean?”

“You seemed uncomfortable when the subject of sex gets brought up.”

 “Ah.” He leans back slightly, his facial features relaxing slightly. “I see.”

“So I stopped.”

“There’s more than that, though.” He turns back to face you, his expression softer. “It was worse when that abomination was present. You would hide parts of yourself from me, especially when it was here.”

“The- oh.” You remember the Starward Matchmaker™ representative’s oppressive presence, and how you walked on eggshells around her. “Right. Yes. The company doesn’t want me to fuck anything up.” 

“A bit hypocritical of them, then,” the prince’s gaze goes back out towards the stars, “as their formula is supposedly infallible. If all parts of us are compatible with each other, then there should be no reason for you to keep some pieces of yourself hidden.”

You stop staring at his almost translucent reflection in the window and look at his face, his profile washed in the smattering of light easing in from billions of lightyears away. More to yourself than to him, you say, “I guess that’s true.”

“So you will stop trying to keep yourself from me?” He asks, firmly, looking over at you, too.

“I-” you swallow thickly, looking at the fingerprints you left on the otherwise flawless glass in your hands, “okay. Yes.”

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#exophilia #drider/reader #drider #male drider #monster lovers #monster/reader

[petrichxxr]

fateful coincidence [2] | l.jh

A/N: here I am yet again wondering if people still read the things I write... I started this series a year ago (I think) and finally have gotten around to updating it...

Word Count: 12,552

Genre: chaebol/heir!au, supernatural elements/deal with the devil, slice of life, romance (slow burn/soulmates)

Warnings: reader (fem) x lee jooheon (monsta x) pairing, mature/suggestive themes, language

Summary: Lee Jooheon is a well-known heir to a global hotel conglomerate, and is next in line to take over the family business. You’re a journalist, aspiring for more, but barely managing to pay your own bills at the end of the month. The two of you are from entirely different worlds, yet fate somehow tangles your threads, and Jooheon seems to know an intriguing amount more about you than he lets on.

You’re forgetting things.

  Like pockets of memory, it starts off small. Miniscule things throughout the day that slowly progress into more important issues. There are holes, you reach in and grasp for something that you know should be there, but nothing comes out. It’s an irritating feeling—to know that something is misplaced, forgotten, but to be unable to identify what it is. It feels as if it’s only gotten worse since the night of the hotel opening, but a part of you is suddenly aware that it’s been going on for much longer than that.

  It’s only after the event, waking up the next day with the taste of alcohol lingering, that you wonder how serious your memory displacement might be—because you realize, waking up, that it’s not even the alcohol that’s making you forget. Yet despite that, you still push everything down. You lock it and the dashing Lee Jooheon away in the depths of your mind, forcefully making yourself forget this one thing. You didn’t have the time to keep constantly turning his words over in your head, attempting to sort through the shrouded mystery that they presented. Not just that, but he was from a completely separate world—even if you allowed yourself time to do just that, he was still untouchable.

  Plus, you didn’t want to relive every single detail as you described the event to Kihyun. There were some important factors that could be conveniently left out—he had refused to talk to you for almost three days, annoyed you’d hung up on him and given him the cold shoulder that day. Despite having a job to do. But you were just as irritated in his behavior and lack of thoughtfulness the day of the event when you’d called out of work. He hadn’t bothered to check on you at all, and you had needed to get to your job. It was as simple as that, but he’d taken it out of proportion and was being childish.

  His childish behavior had dropped after the three days—after he seemed satisfied he’d gotten whatever point he was attempting to make (there was none) across, and after you got some decent recognition from Minhyuk due to the article you’d written. You tried not to consider the fact that it could have been some of Jooheon’s doing that the piece was performing so well, another thought you pushed out of your mind and locked away.

  After the hype of everything between the event and article died down, your daily routine fell back into place. Kihyun was back to his normal blunt best friend act, Minhyuk was as bossy as ever and overworked you, and your daily headaches returned.

  The daily headaches. You wonder if it has anything to do with your missing pockets of memory.

  “Are you forgetting anything?” Kihyun’s voice suddenly breaks through the slight throbbing just beyond your skull, silencing the thoughts that were just about to make everything worse.

  You glance up from your suitcase to see him entering your room, eyes scanning over the piece of paper you’d typed up. A gray cloud of fluff, fondly known to be your cat Silas, expertly weaves his way through Kihyun’s feet. Whenever he did that to you, you’d trip and fall—yet for some reason, he and Kihyun had it down to an art. No matter how much Kihyun multitasked, he was always used to the feline being just underfoot.

  Silas breaks apart from Kihyun and trots across your bedroom to you. “Hey, bub.” Smiling, you reach out and give the cat a few chin scratches. Looking up to Kihyun, you add, “I don’t think so. You’ve taken care of him before though, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  Kihyun frowns. “Not for this extended length of time, though. Does he get separation anxiety?”

  “With how much I work and am away from home, anyway? Doubtful. But who knows, he may miss my presence. Just sleep over here. I have food that’ll go bad and you still have a roommate.”

  “True. Hyungwon just sleeps, anyway. It’s not like he’ll really notice I’m gone.” Kihyun lowers the paper of instructions for caring for the flat and Silas while you’re gone on your trip, eyeing you. “Are you going to get that checked out, by the way?”

  You practically scramble to lower your hands from your neck, realizing Kihyun had spotted you attempting to massage away some of the pain throbbing at the base of your nape. He was always so watchful, it was almost annoying. You understood the headaches were something to be concerned over, but he didn’t have to nitpick so much.

  “It’s not really a work trip, nor a leisure trip. I’ll see if I have time.”

  “Still, you’ll be visiting home while you’re there. You may as well fit in a doctor’s appointment,” Kihyun pointed out, giving the paper in his hand a small wave. “Plus, you’re there a little over a week. Family matters to take care of or not, you’ll have plenty of time. Make sure to get some rest, too. Maybe you just need some decent sleep.”

  You sigh. “Yes, mother, I’ll try to.”

  The sound of Kihyun’s scoff immediately follows, along with his footsteps. Silas, who had been sprawled out on the floor this entire time, scurries away at the sudden weight reverberating across the floor that startles him out of his catnap.

  “Anyway, did you forget anything?” Kihyun asks once more, eyeing your open suitcase in front of you.

  You glance back at your suitcase, a little haphazard with the contents but sorted and all together nonetheless—you just had to figure out how to make everything fit between your checked and carry on baggage—and shake your head. “No, I think I’m good. If I do forget anything, at least I’m going home. There’s usually spare stuff available, or I can just buy it if it’s something small.”

  Kihyun frowns. “You were literally just complaining a few weeks ago about having to spend money on a dress, and now you’re saying you can just buy what you need.”

  “Well, I figure if I forget anything, it’ll be something cheap like shampoo,” you cut him a look, rolling your eyes. Not a gown, you want to say. “Anyway, let’s get some sleep. Flight leaves at two in the morning, and I’m sure that’s going to be a lovely time waking up for the both of us.”

  If possible, Kihyun’s frown deepens. As quickly as you possibly can without making any mistakes, you finish organizing your belongings between the luggage and close everything up, creating a pile to easily collect upon your departure. Kihyun bids a soft goodnight and makes his way back to the makeshift bed he’d created in your living room. You were already dreading the sixteen hour time difference and having to reset your internal clock for your visit to the States. At least all Kihyun had to do was wake up at an almost-unholy hour of the night to drop you off at the airport, then return to home and bed. You hoped sleep would come easily to you on the plane—because as the lights in your apartment are shut off and you close your eyes, the pounding of your headache seems to increase and rear its ugly head in full force—making sleep almost impossible for the five or six hours ahead of you.

—

Sleep comes, at some point—though not easily. But as long as it took to come, it ends in an even shorter amount of time. When you finally do fall asleep, it feels as though only a few moments pass before your alarm begins to go off. You groan, your head still pounding, and roll over to bury yourself further under your covers. The blaring song of your alarm does nothing to ease the throbbing within your skull, and you wonder how you’re supposed to get into an airplane and make the trip. Will the climb in altitude make your head hurt worse?

  It’s Kihyun’s groaning from the other room, followed by his annoyed stomps—that finally wakes you. He silences your phone alarm before abruptly pulling your covers off you, making you groan again.

  “Wake up,” Kihyun orders, and you feel your shoulder shoved at. “You don’t want to be late.”

  “I don’t want to be at all…” Comes your sleepily mumbled reply.

  “We are not having an existential crisis at twelve in the morning. Get up. I will not hesitate to drag you out of bed,” Kihyun warns. “And your apartment floors are wood.”

  Letting out a sigh, you push yourself into a sitting position. Giving your eyes a rub, applying a slight pressure in hopes to ward away the throbbing headache, you drop your hands then blink a few times and allow your sight to adjust to the darkness of your bedroom.

  “You still have a headache?” You see Kihyun frown in the dark.

  “Why are you surprised? It’s a constant thing nowadays,” you sigh once more, pushing yourself to the edge of the bed. “Plus, it took forever to fall asleep. I’ll just sleep on the plane, though. Do you mind packing the car and I’ll get ready?”

  You don’t really wait for Kihyun to answer, knowing he’ll do so anyway without you having asked, moving around to collect the clothes you’d set out the evening before and heading to the bathroom. One of Kihyun’s pet peeves was being tardy, and while you lived close enough to the airport that it wasn’t a huge deal to leave a little later—it had been Kihyun’s idea to at least get there an hour and a half earlier than your flight. Which honestly made sense on any normal occasion, but the airport was sure to be a bit on the dead side considering the time of night.

  It doesn’t take you long to get ready. Your warm morning shower does nothing to ease the tension in your head—a last ditch effort you had hoped might work. By the time you’ve finished a very shortened version of your morning routine brushing your teeth, drying your hair, and applying your facial care—Kihyun already has the car packed and is pouring some food into Silas’ bowl, before pulling a hoodie on and getting ready himself. You gather the last of your toiletry items that need to be packed, and when the two of you head downstairs and you bid your farewell to your beloved feline, you stuff your toiletry bag into the top zipper of your luggage.

  Kihyun was right to urge you to leave earlier rather than later. Despite the distance to the airport, there’s a decent amount of midnight traffic due to it being a weekend. You close your eyes as he drives, the blinding city and street lights glaring against the glass window of the car and burning your pupils and head. Kihyun’s smooth operation of the vehicle makes it easy to doze off a couple of times before you arrive. While the traffic may have been on the heavier side, you still make it early, and with plenty of time to spare.

  “Make sure to tell me when you land,” Kihyun orders as he helps pull your bags out of the trunk of the car.

  “I will.” You’d be sure not to have a repeat of the hotel opening night, where he hadn’t checked in on you when you’d called out, and out of spite you hadn’t bothered to reach out to him. “Make sure you send me plenty of photos of Silas while I’m gone.”

  “He’ll be fine, he’s a cat.”

  You jut out your bottom lip into a pout. “That’s not what I said.”

  Kihyun scoffs, but reaches up to pat your head gently. “I’ll send you photos. Please try to see if you can get into a doctor while you’re there.”

  “You’re going to keep pushing that, aren’t you?”

  “As much as I possibly can,” Kihyun lowers his hand to give you a one-armed hug. “I’m going to miss pestering you. I don’t think we’ve been separated for a week since we met in college.”

  “You could just say you’re going to miss me like a normal person would.”

  “There’s no fun in that though.” Kihyun grins down at you, before nodding towards the entrance to your gate.

  Giving a small wave, you gather your luggage and head inside. In total, it takes about thirty minutes to get your bag checked, get yourself checked in for your flight, and to go through security. Just as you’d suspected, the airport is practically dead at this hour and the lines are nonexistent. However, the traffic had been enough to make a dent in the time, and you thankfully don’t have long to wait before they start calling for your gate to board. There’s exactly enough time to grab a quick pastry from a nearby coffee shop that happened to be open before making your way onto the plane when your seat section is called.

  You board the plane, stow your carryon in the overhead compartment, and then claim your seat and fasten your seatbelt. Having flown before, you stick your earbuds in your ears—figuring you’ll listen to the flight attendants’ usual spiel when the time came—but more eager to make yourself comfortable and attempt some more sleep as quickly and as soon as possible. Especially since you’d been lucky enough to snag an unclaimed window seat. This meant you were tucked away in your own little back corner, hopefully left alone for the sixteen hours ahead by whoever decided to take up being your seat partner.

  Hopefully left alone was too much along the lines of wishful thinking.

  As you stare out the window, watching workers move about below in the dark as they load and prep the plane for takeoff—you suddenly feel an uncomfortable tug on the cord of your earbud, before it’s pulled straight from your ear. You can’t help but grimace, feeling the bud tug at one of your many piercings.

  “What the hell—”

  Just as you speak up, a voice that’s all too familiar asks, simultaneously, “What are you listening to?”

  You blanch as you turn in your seat, coming face to face with none other than Lee Jooheon. He quirks a brow at you, tilting his head to the side as he inserts your stolen earbud into his own ear. You can just barely make out the dimple impressions on his cheeks, his mouth pressed into something along the lines of a smile suppressing an amused smirk.

  “How—” The word falls from your lips, empty and confused. How, what? You wonder. How did he get here? How was he on the same flight as you? How did he recognize you? Not that you’d chosen to sit too far towards the back, honestly—anyone walking into the plane after just boarding could easily recognize a familiar face with an empty seat next to them. You liked sitting toward the front-middle of planes when traveling; apparently, in this case, that was your downfall.

  “Business trip,” Jooheon just shrugs, replying simply. “Why didn’t you ever text me that night?”

  You turn away from him, pursing your lips. Text him? You briefly remembered him handing you a business card, though couldn’t remember where it had slipped off to—too many drinks made it difficult to keep track of something that small. He’d only asked for you to notify him you got home safe, anyway, so what was the big deal? His bodyguard that had escorted you home surely passed that bit of info along to him.

  Had he—a possible multimillion dollar heir—really expected you to text him, unannounced? And why would he expect such a thing?

  Copying his shrug, you glance away from him. “I lost your business card.”

  It wasn’t a lie. As much as you wanted to admit, it was easy to forget the business card and it’s whereabouts. It was easy to forget the possibility of texting him as he’d asked. With the alcohol that had coursed through you, it was easy to forget that entire night. That was something that would probably irk him if you did choose to admit it. However, what wasn’t easy to forget were his words that randomly popped into your mind and turned over in your head, playing like a broken record—Do you really not remember me?

  That, on the contrary, was something that irked you.

  What was there to remember? Had you really forgotten something? It was a question that burned into your mind, day and night, even when you attempted to suppress all thoughts of him. You tried not to allow yourself to think of the events of that day, or him. While the former was fairly easy, there was something about Jooheon himself that made the latter next to impossible. There was no way for you to fight off the burning curiosity he’d created, as much as you tried. You could forget everything but him and his mysterious words.

  “Well, we can fix that,” Jooheon’s reply doesn’t miss a beat. Before you even have a chance to react to his words, you feel your unlocked phone slip through your fingers and out of your grasp.

  “H-Hey—”

  But Jooheon is paying no mind to your protest, and you watch as he swipes out of the Spotify app on your phone to open the dialing screen. His fingers glide across your screen as he inputs his number. He even goes a step further as to open your messages and start a new text to himself—ensuring he also had your number.

  As he hands your phone back to you, you frown, feeling your jaw tense. You glance down at the screen briefly, which he’d returned to your playlist, before looking back up at him. What would he do if you blatantly deleted his phone number? A part of you felt spiteful enough to do so just for the mere fact that he had taken your phone without asking and entered his number. It’s fine, I’ll just delete his number after the flight, you decide. Even if he has my number, I can just block him.

  Whatever kind of coincidence this was—it was just that. A coincidence. Nothing more would amount after this. It was rather unlucky you were stuck here for sixteen hours with the given circumstances, but you reminded yourself that this wouldn’t be happening again, and to just suffer through it for now. But there was a small part of you that wasn’t quite convinced it was merely just a coincidence, like you hoped… his words from the hotel opening night, like a broken record, continued to replay in your mind. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something missing. Something you really had forgotten.

  “I like this song,” Jooheon comments off-hand, and you only hum in response, finally turning away. It would be an understatement to say you weren’t really in the mood to engage him. Maybe he’d only spoken up and said that because you’d been staring for so long, taking your gaze the wrong way. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to be completely lacking in common sense. Jooheon doesn’t push for more of a reply out of you, allowing the two of you to sit in silence as the rest of the flight occupants take their seats.

  It’s almost more unnerving to sit next to Jooheon without saying anything. During the hotel night, before things had gotten weird with what he’d muttered, you two had been able to freely talk without much difficulty. There was something about his energy that made it almost comfortable, yet invigorating, to be in his presence at that time. But now the invigoration has twisted and warped into an unnerving feeling. For the most part, you feel on edge—yet there’s still a high energy, a curiosity, that sparks between you. While the flight attendants review the usual plane and flying regulations, you find yourself glancing at Jooheon. The music still plays between the two of you, having not reclaimed your earbud and he having not offered to return it.

  Despite your better judgement, you’re aware of the way that the wire of the headphones rests against his shoulders, and how in normal, casual clothes—he’s actually quite broad. It’s something you feel like you should have noticed when he was dressed to the nines in a suit, yet so many suit jackets have padding you weren’t actually sure you would have trusted it. But in the simple hoodie he was wearing, you can see the breadth of his shoulders, and you’re positive it’s not because it’s oversized. He looks so simple, the outfit rounded together with some black sweatpants and a white shirt peeking out from underneath the hooded sweatshirt. So simple, and so unlike an heir or someone of his financial status. You try to ignore the fact that your brain keeps yelling at you that he looks good. It’s not important right now—or right ever, actually. Why did your mind feel the need to supply such an observation?

  You’re about to pull your gaze away from your attention on Jooheon, when you notice something as you do so—where his hand lays on the armrest, his finger taps incessantly. The tapping seems to pick up speed, even becoming more sporadic, as you feel the plane beneath you pick up speed with the takeoff. For a moment, you lose yourself in the background noise of his tapping—the tiny sound overtaking your senses and demanding your focus, a rhythmic and hypnotic thing. Don’t worry about him, you tell yourself. But there’s a part of your mind that is just too curious.

  “Are you okay?” You suddenly ask, dragging your eyes away from his fingers. The action seems to feel as though it takes slower than it should. 

  “Huh?” Jooheon blinks at you in surprise, having not expected you to acknowledge him for the rest of the flight. It’s then that he realizes what he’s doing, and he stills his hand. “Yeah, fine.”

  But when you glance down, you notice the way he grips the armrest instead—forcing his muscles to be still. You think he might start vibrating with the anxiety.

  “Are you sure?”

  Jooheon nods, though the action is terse. “I just don’t like flying.”

  “Don’t you have to do it a lot, though?” You ask, surprised. He was the heir to an international hotel chain. Wasn’t he meant to do a lot of flying? Plus, he could be considered a businessman… the idea of him not liking flying and being used to planes confuses you.

  “I—” Jooheon starts, though his words are immediately cut off as the plane picks up, pulling itself off the ground as it officially takes off. Jooheon intakes his breath sharply, the takeoff pushing both of you back against your seats. It’s not a rough takeoff, per se, but you’d definitely had smoother.

  Despite that, Jooheon isn’t handling it well. Something within you pulls toward him—an innate need to protect that you can't quite explain. It’s like a little tiny flame, you feel it stir within you and you can’t help but want to feed it. The combination of his intake of breath, and the way his jaw clenches when he closes his eyes, causes you to reach out without thinking—practically prying his hand off the armrest to take hold of it.

  You wrap your hand around his, giving a reassuring squeeze.

  Jooheon is surprised by the contact—enough so he stills for a moment, opening his eyes to peer down at your hands in curiosity—before he’s caught by surprise by something else. It’s in that moment that your hand folds around his, skin touching skin and your warmth flooding into his system through shared palms—entwining itself around every nerve—that everything stills. The sensation of everything within him simply quieting—the black, reverberating anxiety that shook at his core like a thunderous stormcloud, and the way his stomach twisted with nausea at every jerky movement the plane made. But it wasn’t just that, it was everything from that to standard stresses, a whirlwind of things that needed to be done for work, and the tormenting voices he often had to deal with within his own mind—they all just silence at your touch.

  He finds his gaze locked on your hands, confused and curious all at the same time. He’d never had this happen before. Was this something that was supposed to happen? Even if he wanted to, Jooheon feels as though he’s unable to pull away from the warmth there. Like your palms are magnetized, connected, and something he shouldn’t pull apart. There was a warmth just beneath his hand, where his skin met your skin, that he could feel building like a little fire. But instead of overtaking everything in the way that a wildfire might, Jooheon finds the warmth to be soothing. Comforting, like a warm drink that fills you up—or perhaps closer to the sensation of sinking into the warm water of a bathtub. The silence within him is a welcome sensation that he’d personally like to drown himself in, if only to escape reality for just a little bit and stay suspended where he was in that strange sensation of lulled time.

  For you, the skin to skin contact with Jooheon is scalding. You immediately feel that electricity you’d felt the night of the hotel opening shoot across every nerve in your body like a cosmos, the tiny flame you’d been curious about flare up with a vengeance. The heat that floods through your system at his contact in places you’d never even imagined—the pit of your stomach, the cavity of your chest, the back of your throat, is parching and suffocating and entirely overwhelming. It overtakes you in such a way that you feel your chest seize up, like you can’t breathe. But for some reason, you hang on to him. You wonder if you’ll start shaking from the sudden pressure that feels as though it’s been placed on your body, hyper-aware of the contact of him.

  Yet, for some reason you don’t have the answer to, nor the mind or focus to think about—despite the way his skin contact is scalding, the nerves in your body ignited and burning from his touch—you still find yourself reaching out to him during the flight. It’s almost like it’s instinctual, though you aren’t quite sure how that would even be possible. Every time you notice Jooheon tense or become physically uncomfortable, the incessant tapping of his fingertips against the arm of the seat picking back up—you reach out to him. Your touch stills the anxiety from pouring out of his body in a physical form. It always happens when there’s turbulence, Jooheon seemingly seizing up every time the plane acts up in any way. You find it an odd fear or worry to have, considering he should be someone accustomed to flying so much, but you suppose people don’t get to pick and choose what it is that they’re afraid of.

  For a good majority of the flight, Jooheon opts to leave you alone. As much as he has questions and curiosities, and a need to hear your voice, he doesn’t want to push his luck. Every time your hand finds his whenever the turbulence of the plane gets to be too much for him—everything within him stills after a shock of electricity passes through his system from your touch. It’s like that single strike flashes through his system, piercing through every bit of thick, smoky anxiety in its wake. But beyond that touch,  Jooheon doesn’t ask or prompt for much more. And as the turbulence settles the longer the sixteen-hour flight drags on, the less Jooheon feels your touch that acts as a solid comfort to him. Instead, he relies more on the music the two of you listen to together. You never ask for the earbud back, and the cord of the shared headphones acts as the main thing linking you together the more time passes.

  Jooheon only pushes his luck a little bit every time food or snacks come around. He takes these moments to chat with the stewardess, asking some questions, and pulling you into the conversation with ease. It’s then that you find yourself stuck in small chats with him as he passes you snacks, drinks, or your meal. Luckily, it’s easy conversation that—for the most part—doesn’t push any boundaries, and always has something to do with the food being passed around. Questions like, How does that taste? What’s your favorite food? And barters to trade snacks. They’re interactions that don’t require much of a thought process otherwise, just meaningless words to fill the silence and help pass the time. While most of your interactions with him up until that point had been begrudging, to put kindly, Jooheon couldn’t help but be surprised at how receptive you could actually be.

  In between conversation, you spend the flight trying to get some shut-eye in, as you had originally planned—to no avail. You aren’t sure if it’s the presence of Jooheon being so close to you, his flying anxiety, or the sensation and sounds that came with flying that make it difficult to find sleep. From the corner of his eyes, you’re unaware of Jooheon watching you nod off every now and again, unable to ignore the way your head starts to bob or fall back against the seat suddenly. At these times, you barely manage to catch just a few fleeting moments of rest, something you couldn’t quite place your finger on always stirring you back awake. 

  It’s during one of these brief moments when you stir back awake that you notice Jooheon working on a tablet. At first, you think nothing of it, wanting to go back to sleep—even though you’re almost certain it’s impossible at this point—but, then it dawns on you that Jooheon is focused and quiet, and most importantly: Working, and not bothering you. As much as you hated to admit it, you’d become accustomed to Jooheon pestering you every time you moved even an inch. His silence almost disturbed you.

  You blink a few times, blearily at first, refocusing your gaze and quietly straightening in your seat to peek a glance at the tablet. It sits in Jooheon’s lap, propped against one of his knees that he has raised and crossed over the other leg, where he drags the stylus against the screen, moving a specific item back and forth across the piece he’s working on. You can’t tell if he’s being erratic or indecisive. For a moment, though, you stare—studying what you assume to be some sort of pamphlet being put together for a hotel—before a yawn overtakes you.

  When the yawn subsides, you shift in your seat, leaning closer to Jooheon. You give his elbow a nudge on the arm rest as you peer further over his shoulder at the tablet. “There’s too much white space.”

  You bite your lip to keep from laughing when Jooheon startles in surprise at your sudden intrusion into his space—having thought you were asleep still—letting a curse in Korean slip from his mouth under his breath. Cute, you can’t help but think, offering up a sheepish smile as if to apologize when Jooheon turns his head to stare you down, his eyes screaming offense. Jooheon lets out a small sigh, turning away and lifting a hand up to pat his chest and clear his throat—attempting to settle a heart that had almost tried to jump out of his chest.

  “I can’t get this layout to work,” Jooheon says as he returns his attention to the tablet in front of him.

  You reach over the armrest, and over his arm which holds the tablet, pointing at the screen as you speak. “You should resize these things, and then move this font here, and this image here. You could also do an overlay with a neutral color to offset the layers of this.”

  As you point to what you’re talking about, careful not to touch the tablet and accidentally move something, Jooheon watchings your index finger carefully. You don’t notice the way his brows knit in focus, hanging on every word you say and carefully listening to you. You also don’t notice the way that, as you speak, he’ll find himself losing focus for just a split second to allow his eyes to flicker to your face—so close to his as you lean over the armrest—taking a fleeting moment to admire the way you seem so serious and concentrated, your eyes alight with determined focus. Jooheon glances away from you, and back down to the tablet as you speak, feeling the corners of his lips twitch with amusement. This is what you liked doing. It was the part of your job that you liked, and he could tell. A stark contrast to the night of the hotel opening, which just seemed stressful and forced on you.

  It’s Jooheon’s turn to shift in his seat, leaning closer to you as he pulls his arm back and puts the tablet on the armrest between the two of you. You feel yourself freeze slightly at the proximity, having been so focused on what you were telling him. He lifts his hand, holding out the stylus to you. You blink, glancing at him and meeting his gaze—brief enough that it makes your chest clench—before glancing at the stylus.

  “What?”

  “I’m not going to retain any of what you just said. I got a bit of it. You take over.”

  “You… want me?” You blink in surprise, glancing at the screen of the tablet, and at him again. “This seems important though. It’s for your work, I could mess it up—”

  Jooheon scoffs. “Please, if anything—I’m the one that’ll mess it up. You’re the journalism major here, I’d say you’re much more qualified.”

  “Then why are you doing this?” You ask, relenting and taking the stylus from Jooheon.

  “We acquired a hotel in Los Angeles a few months back that’s been undergoing renovation—for the line of hotels I introduced at the grand opening the other night. The one in Seoul was built from the ground up, but we’ve slowly been expanding and we took a historic hotel and made it our own,” Jooheon explains, watching as you finally touch the stylus tip to the tablet and begin to work. “Anyway, long explanation shorter—the opening for that and the reintroduction of the new management is soon, but we recently lost our marketing manager. We haven’t been able to find someone else to hire, and we’ve got deadlines to reach. I’ve been trying to help out by taking over half of the job duties from the general manager.”

  “That’s very… responsible of you.”

  “Well, this whole chain is my responsibility,” Jooheon muses. “So, yeah. But also my best friend is the GM and his ass is getting kicked. Neither of us are any good at this, we’re just good at the business portion of it.”

  The conversation falls off there, Jooheon realizing you’re focusing. Hearing he and his general manager were struggling made you feel more pressure, and you can’t help but mentally chastise yourself for stepping in and helping, despite how clearly he had been struggling. Luckily, Jooheon stays close to you as he watches you work, leaning against the armrest. You try not to focus too much on the way your shoulders touch, or the way his scent flows into your space as he delegates a little, giving you technical hotel terminology to include and add in as the pamphlet comes to life on the tablet screen and the white space that had been taking up the majority of the screen before slowly melts away. When he challenges something you do, he allows for you to explain your reasoning behind it and listens carefully as you do so. You find yourself surprised at how well he listens, and how easily it is to compromise with him on certain things.

  You two spend a couple of hours working away at the project together before determining it’s finished, Jooheon and yourself both pleased with the outcome. Jooheon is smiling with enough force that his dimples show on his cheeks, and you can’t help but find yourself smiling along with him—his happiness infectious; you’re happy he’s happy, and you’re happy to have helped. Yet even with the happiness, you find your eyes stinging because of staring at a bright screen for so long, and are acutely aware of your beloved ever-present migraine rearing its ugly head even more than it had at the start of the flight. Jooheon takes note of the way you lift a hand to pinch your nose, attempting to suppress the pain throbbing from your skull.

  “Get some sleep. I won’t bother you anymore,” Jooheon comments, lifting the tablet up briefly to give it a small wave. “Thanks for your help though.”

  “No problem,” you mumble, suppressing yawn. His thank you catches you off-guard, enough so that you lower your hand from the bridge of your nose to blink at him a couple of times. But he’s not paying attention, turning away from you to put the tablet back into a carry-on he’d had stowed underneath the seat ahead of him. You shift in your seat—away from the position which had you closer to him—attempting to make yourself comfortable again as you close your eyes.

  Sleep seems like a fever dream to you. Something you’re aware that you’re receiving, but never feeling quite satisfied from it. As if it’s there, but simultaneously not; all a figment of your imagination. You begin to doze almost immediately after closing your eyes, the migraine practically pushing you to do so, because keeping your eyes open hurt too much. The intensity of the migraine doesn’t relent, though, which has you dozing and waking just as you had before you’d begun helping Jooheon with his work. Just as before, you find yourself going in and out of consciousness, nodding off and startling awake when your head begins to bob or tip too far. You sleep in increments—none of it restful.

  Jooheon is aware of your restlessness next to him, but he’d promised not to bother you—and he has to remind himself of that. But the way your head tips and bobs makes him feel anxious for you. Especially because he could briefly recall a mention of a constant headache the night of the hotel opening, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the reason sleep wasn’t coming to you easily was because of that. Had you been serious about it? You had a dry sense of humor, which he found quite amusing, but it had him often wondering if what you said was the truth or not at certain times—and did a decent job to keep him on his toes as he attempted to figure out whether you were being serious at times.

  He gives in to listening to himself constantly telling himself that he had said he wouldn't bother you, though, after too much time passes watching your head nod as sleep attempts to overtake you. That has got to be uncomfortable on the neck… he thinks to himself, completely giving in when he watches your head fall forward a bit too far. Jooheon reaches out to catch your head, guiding it gently toward his shoulder. As he does so, he sinks lower in his seat just a bit, so your head can rest more comfortably against him. He’s a little disappointed to find that the instant calm and quiet that had overtaken him earlier during the turbulence from your touch doesn’t envelop him warmly again—he is, however, surprised to find that after a few moments pass, you shift in your seat closer to him. When Jooheon glances at you after feeling the movement, he finds you still asleep—thankfully—slumping to the side to lean towards him more comfortably, snuggling against his shoulder.

  The way you nuzzle against him has him tensing in surprise—a heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. The action from you and the heat he feels overtake him with a sudden ferocity are familiar. Too familiar. A type of hunger he’d rather not put a name to.

  No, Lee Jooheon. Not right now. He clenches his jaw, glancing away from you and swallowing roughly, feeling parched suddenly. It was strange how different actions elicited different reactions, his body responding in such stark contrast to each. As Jooheon turns away, he carefully lifts his hood up and over his head, closing his eyes.

  He should sleep, too. There was still quite a bit of flight left.

—

You’re met with silence when you finally wake.

  The plane is bustling and alive, a quiet hum of sound that reverberates through the cabin as people speak in hushed tones and get ready for their landing. These sounds all come to you, slowly seeping into your consciousness. Before your body fully wakes—before you begin to tense your muscles and stretch, and a yawn overtakes you while your eyes crack open—your mind wakes first. And you notice something that seems a little off.

  Everything is silent.

  Your headache is completely gone.

  You stay still for a moment, reveling in the odd silence, though your mind is reeling as to why the migraines which had been plaguing you for months were just suddenly gone. The cavity of your skull where your mind rests feels empty, but in an oddly good way. What had changed? What had happened? Was it the ascension in the plane to a higher altitude? Was that even something that could stop chronic migraines?

  It almost felt too good to be true, considering your migraines also came hand-in-hand with your pockets of disappearing memory. For all that to just suddenly stop felt too good to be true.

  Furrowing your brows, you squeeze your eyes closed tighter. You want to stay here—suspended in silence and the darkness behind your eyelids—forever. There was no ache just beyond your temple that caused nausea; the pain so bad sometimes you felt like you might pass out. There was no ache behind your eyes that typically brought about the stinging sensation of tears, and made the glaring brightness of any sort of light hurt. There was nothing. There was just silence. No thoughts, no suffocating pressure, no pain.

  “Are you awake now?” Abruptly, Jooheon’s not-so-welcome, yet familiar, voice breaks through your silence.

  Begrudgingly, you open your eyes, blinking a few times to readjust to the light. And then, you blink again, realizing the tilted angle at which you’re resting.

  “Sleep well?” The hint of amusement in Jooheon’s voice has you jolting upright—and off his shoulder, where you’d been resting your head. You take a moment to stare ahead, refusing to meet Jooheon’s curious gaze that you can feel burning into you. Silently, you swallow down your nervousness and glance to your side, avoiding his gaze for a moment to stare at his shoulder—your makeshift pillow for who knows how long—then you lift your eyes to meet his.

  Without prompting vocally again, Jooheon simply raises an eyebrow.

  You almost hate to admit you did sleep well, considering the push and pull you kept experiencing towards Jooheon. There were too many unanswered questions about him, too many things that made you curious and worried at the same time. He was too mysterious. Admitting something like this to him almost felt like you were placing a playing card right in his hand. There was a small part of you that wondered if his presence had anything to do with it, but you immediately pushed that thought out of your mind, writing it off as absolutely absurd. You barely knew him, how would he have any sort of effect on you such as that?

  Letting out a sigh, you nod finally in answer.

  Jooheon takes the silent answer with a small nod of his own, turning away to gather his belongings which had been at his feet to begin putting in the backpack he had, before pushing it back under the seat before him. “That’s good, you looked like you needed some decent rest.”

  “Apparently so. My headache—or rather, migraine—is gone.”

  When Jooheon straightens in his seat, he turns to look at you again. “You mentioned once you had a constant headache. Was it that bad?”

  You nod. “It would vary. Sometimes it was a headache, sometimes a migraine. Anywhere from manageable to incapacitating, but always constant. It’s been going on for almost three months now, I think?”

  “That long?” Jooheon’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and the corners of his lips immediately follow in the opposite direction, pulling down into a frown. “You mentioned during our first meeting you were stressed, but that sounds like something more than just stress. Have you been to a doctor?”

  “Please, finding the time is too difficult. Don’t start nagging me like Kihyun.” Out of habit, the borderline pushiness of his words has you reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. There’s no headache there to attempt to subside—which has your hand just as quickly falling down from your face. You frown at your palm, studying it. The habit had been built on stress, and as stressful as Jooheon’s miniscule attempt to nag had been, there was no physical representation of that stress like usual.

  Maybe Kihyun is the problem, you muse to yourself. He did have a tendency to nag to the extreme. Almost like a mother.

  “I’m starting to think Kihyun might be on to something,” Jooheon grumbles from next to you, causing you to lift your gaze from your hand. “You seem to be stubborn, you need someone to nag you, it seems like. You should find the time. Three months almost certainly implies there’s some sort of underlying health concern.”

  “My headache is still gone, don’t ruin the moment. If you keep it up, it’s almost certainly going to come back.”

With a scoff, you look away from him and nestle back into your seat. As you do so, an announcement over the intercom notifies everyone aboard the plane of the oncoming landing. Instructions to start preparing for landing by putting away and stowing all belongings follows, and the stewardess over the speaker ends the announcement by asking everyone to return to their seats and begin buckling up.

  “Fine. I won’t ruin this moment. But I can’t promise for any future moments,” Jooheon declares. When you glance at him in surprise, he looks over at you with a small dimpled smirk. You end up rolling your eyes—rolling your gaze away from him. How the heck was he so annoying, yet somehow charming?

  As if someone hears the word charming cross through your mind—the plane hits a bit of turbulence just before it begins to tip to the side, turning to make a circle to land. It’s a very slight maneuver, almost unnoticeable. In fact, you were so accustomed to flying that you really wouldn’t have noticed it yourself, if not for the fact that Jooheon, next to you, was visibly tensing as he had earlier. His hand, lying on the armrest between you, grips the edge so hard the skin pulls taught and translucent over his knuckles.

  Even Jooheon’s unusual fear and his reaction to it, something you had become accustomed to during the flight, was somehow charming.

  Wordlessly, you reach out, pushing your hand beneath his where it grips the armrest. It takes a bit of urging before he feels your fingertips pushing against the base of his palm near his wrist, attempting to push your way underneath. When Jooheon does, he glances at you in surprise, lifting his hand just enough for you to slip yours beneath to take hold of him as you had before.

  When your palms connect, fingers wrapping around his and him returning the gesture, that scalding feeling from before returns. You knew you’d be burned, touching him—yet for some reason, as you had so many times through the flight already—it was a risk you were willing to take. That same electricity that you’d felt before, and felt from the night of the hotel opening, shoots up your arm from where your palms connect and shoots across every nerve in your body again. This time, though, it feels so much stronger—and now you wonder if the clarity of your migraine being gone is a good thing, or a bad thing. Without the heavy, leaden fog that rests over your mind with the migraine, you’re suddenly aware and feel everything. So much so that the contact this time and the reaction your body has to him makes you flinch in surprise, though very subtly.

  Jooheon, of course, takes silent note—his eyes never not watching you curiously.

  That electric fire that swarms through you happens in such a brief amount of time that it takes you a few moments of staring at your hand, connected with Jooheon’s, to realize that it at some point quiets down to something more akin to a simmer. Warm, and somehow pleasant. Something like sitting in a window, where sun filters through, your eyes closed against the sunlight that warms the glass and warms you.

  You really had to be going crazy, you think. Jooheon was handsome but there was no way you were attracted to him—right?

  Meanwhile, the same warmth floods through Jooheon, euphoric and soothing. He draws his eyes away from you, clenching his jaw and trying not to physically react to the fuzzy feeling that overtakes him, filling him up  yet again. The welcome silence of everything stopping within him returns. If he isn’t careful, he’s sure he might let out a sigh of contentment that would give everything away. And so, he clenches his jaw a little tighter, pursing his lips.

  “You’re going to break the poor armrest,” you say, past a knot that forms in your throat. Your throat feels dry, seizing up again. You feel awkward just holding his hand—especially as you try to make sense of the sudden fire that had built up just as it had before, before slowly dying down into something more manageable. This time, it wasn’t as suffocating. Yet you still felt somehow nervous and small next to him, that unnerving edginess he causes settling over you again. Your body was starting to feel as though it was experiencing whiplash.

  A little over sixteen hours spent in his presence was starting to confuse you. Were you still irked by him, yet somehow intrigued? Or were you actually starting to soften up to him? You had to admit that his mysterious riddled words and overly generous actions had made you immediately throw up a wall… but he hadn’t been that bad during this flight. He’d been much more normal, still as charming, but besides taking your phone for himself—he hadn’t pushed any boundaries or said anything weird.

  “You’d rather I break your hand, then?” Jooheon retorts good-naturedly, which has you suddenly snorting out a small laugh.

  “Please don’t actually break it. I need to return to work after this trip.”

  “What are you on this trip for, anyway?” Jooheon wonders, and when you look at him with a frown, he shrugs. “I told you what I’m going to LA for.”

  “Family reasons.”

  “A vacation, then?”

  You shake your head, grimacing at the thought of what awaits you when you land. Although Jooheon has made the flight a little more bearable, despite everything you thought about him prior, a small part of you wishes you hadn’t even boarded the plane back in Seoul. Knowing what you were walking into when the plane landed—you wished for everything that, somehow, you wouldn’t have to. If only you hadn’t been pressured into taking this trip. You wanted to stay suspended here, with your migraine gone and a bit of peace from everything in life and just spend some time not thinking. Not thinking about work, not thinking about family, and not thinking about how much pain you were constantly in. Kihyun had told you to get your migraine checked out while you were near your family doctor, but you wondered when you’d have time for that—wondered how long this peace from the head pain would last. Which is why you wanted to keep it, for as long as possible. It was so nice to have some silence and a break from it all. Soon, you’d be walking back into more pain. Unwillingly so, but that was the outcome, nonetheless.

  “It’s not going to feel like a vacation.” Comes your answer, just as the plane lands. It’s at that moment that Jooheon squeezes your hand, the impact of the plane hitting the runway jostling everyone inside just a bit. But there’s something in the way that he gives the squeeze—almost reassuring instead of to comfort himself—that has you staring at your hands, yet again, in silent curiosity.

  Jooheon keeps holding your hand up until the plane reaches a complete stop once it pulls up to the jetway. It’s only then that he relinquishes his hold, and the both of you silently gather up the belongings which you’d brought as carry on items onto the plane. Other passengers begin to do the same, standing in their rows and slowly beginning to exit the plane. Jooheon, once he has everything in his backpack he’d brought with him, soon stands in the row you share, turning to glance over his shoulder. As you finish gathering your things into the backpack you’d brought on the plane with you after claiming it from the overhead bin, you look up at him—noticing him searching.

  You peek over the top edge of your seat just as Jooheon appears to have found who he was looking for, giving a curt nod of acknowledgement. “I’ll meet you outside,” he says, nodding over his shoulder to signal when they exit the plane. You squint, studying the people, before your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, instantly recognizing the larger built man a few aisles back from you who seems to nod a reply to Jooheon.

  “He was here too?” You blurt out,  without thinking, memories immediately flashing back to the night you’d been drunk and that man had taken you home. You grimace, sinking down in your seat a bit and hoping he doesn’t see you.

  Your outburst causes Jooheon to glance down at you in surprise, lips twitching in amusement at your reaction and the way you attempt to hide yourself. “Of course. Hoseok’s my bodyguard. And kind of an assistant, since he keeps track of all my schedules.”

  “Why’d you sit with me instead of the person you came on this trip with?”

  Jooheon shrugs. “You’re much more interesting. Plus, I see him every day.”

  You frown, but before you can reply, Jooheon reaches down behind you where you sit, backpack on, and gives the hook strap on your bag a tug, urging you to your feet. The two aisles ahead of you move to make their exit, marking it as your turn next. Jooheon turns away as you stand, stepping out of the aisle—and his next action catches you by surprise. He steps out enough to block others from cutting out and ahead, nodding for you to go first. Blinking in surprise, you almost trip as you rush out of the aisle so as to not hold up the line, feeling Jooheon keep close behind you as he follows.

  You don’t realize until you’re off the plane that Jooheon has an ulterior motive by letting you exit first. As soon as you’ve cleared the bridge connecting the plane to the terminal gate, and have stepped out into the waiting area, Jooheon steps forward from behind you and slips his hand into your own. He takes a firm hold, tugging you along as he leads you off. 

  “Hey!” Surprised, you stumble after him, having not even had a chance to figure out what your next step after arrival would be—you’d traveled back in time, and it was almost nine o’clock at night on a Friday in Los Angeles. You needed to figure out a form of transportation home, first and foremost, before things started to close down. “J-Jooheon!”

  The sound of his name slows his pace down, and Jooheon glances over his shoulder at you with a quirked brow—but he doesn’t stop walking. “That’s the second time you’ve said my name.”

  You frown, staring at him. Had he been counting such a thing? You hadn’t really been aware you’d said his name so little… but you had been avidly avoiding the use of it. You didn’t want to give him too much power by using his name. It was better, you thought, to just keep him as a stranger. That’s what you’d thought the night of the opening ceremony and the nights following where he’d constantly tormented the gaping hole in your memory. Unfortunately, he’d pushed past that boundary line already—something you were well aware of. Lee Jooheon was more like an acquaintance now, and as much as you hated it—it was too late to turn back.

  “We’re going to go get food,” he announces when you don’t say anything to his statement, turning away from you to keep leading you on.

  You give your hand a tug, attempting to pull it back to yourself. “We don’t need to, though—”

  “Nonsense, I’m starving. The plane meals weren't that filling.” Jooheon glances over his shoulder at you again. “And like I said, you’re much more interesting to spend time with. I’m not done doing so yet—as soon as you leave this airport, who knows when I’ll see you again, or if you’ll even use that phone number I put in your cell? LA’s a much bigger city than Seoul, we might not cross paths at all while we’re here.”

  “Why does that matter?” You grumble. You wanted to keep things at the acquaintance level.

  Jooheon shrugs. “Matters to me. But please, just indulge me for a bit. I’m stuck here for at least a week having to do work. I might not get to see anything outside of a hotel for the entire time.”

  You sigh, but give up trying to pull your hand back to you. Jooheon doesn’t free you of his grasp until you’re being seated. As you stop outside the restaurant he’s chosen, you can’t help but stare up at the sign on the wall for the Mexican food eatery, grimacing. Jooheon catches the face you make as you sit across from him—and when your eyes meet as you take your seat, and you realize he’d seen you make the face, you let out another sigh.

  “Did we really have to eat here? Airport food is so expensive.”

  “It’s quick and convenient. Plus, I’m paying.”

  “What?” You shake your head. You already owed him, you didn’t want more added on. “No, definitely not.”

  “You’re indulging me, so I’ll be the one to handle the bill.” Jooheon reaches across the table, tapping the menu that had been set down in front of you by the waiter before they had disappeared. After doing so, Jooheon pulls his phone out of his pocket and busies himself with it.

  You purse your lips, scanning the limited menu options. The downside to airport food, besides the price, was how little there was to choose from. That being said, it made making a final decision a lot easier and faster. When the waiter comes back around—the two of you being among the very few people sitting to eat at that time of night—you both place your order with ease.

  Just as the waiter leaves, Jooheon’s phone rings. He glances at the phone face to see who’s calling, before answering in Korean. While the voice on the other end of the line speaks, you decide to pull your own phone out of your bag that you’d brought with you. Having been dragged away by Jooheon, you hadn’t had a chance to turn your phone off airplane mode. You do so, and then wait for the onslaught of messages to pour through.

  “Hey,” Jooheon says from across the table. You glance up from your phone to look at him, just as your finger pushes the little slider to turn airplane mode off. “What does your luggage look like?”

  For a moment, you just stare at Jooheon, confused.

  “It’s Hoseok, he’s at baggage claim.”

  “Oh.” The word falls from your lips slowly as his words settle into your mind, realization dawning on you. That’s right—you’d been dragged away so fast you’d also forgotten about your checked luggage that you had to pick up. “Uh, it’s a larger black suitcase. I have a yellow ribbon tied to it.”

  Jooheon nods, repeating the information to Hoseok. As he does so, you overhear him follow up by telling his bodyguard-assistant that the two of you are eating, and apologizing profusely for running off. It’s clear from the tone the conversation takes that Jooheon isn’t going to be let off easy, despite being the boss. You zone out, then, instead returning your focus back to your own phone. But the screen contents are empty when you tap the screen to wake the phone from sleep, unlocking it.

  The lack of any sort of notification causes you to frown. Of course, it was past nine now, so you doubted anyone here that was waiting for you to arrive actually cared about you arriving. This entire trip had been a guilt trip, and was an inconvenience for you. You were sure drama would start as soon as you arrived home. It was likely no one had even stayed up to greet you, so why would anyone bother to check and see if your flight had gone well? There had been minimal communication leading up to your departure, anyway.

  Doing the math in your head, you count back, figure that it’s a little after one in the afternoon back in Korea. The fact that there was no message from Kihyun, either, was a little deterring—considering it was a weekend in the middle of the afternoon. But then you remembered he had asked you to call him when you landed. Mentally chastising yourself, you open your text messages and send him a quick text, letting him know you’ve landed and were grabbing some food, and would call him a little later.

  “You okay?” Jooheon asks, now off the phone. He’d been sitting there quietly for a few moments, watching your expression turn increasingly sour.

  Hearing his voice, you startle in surprise—having not even realized he’d gone silent. You fumble with your phone, locking it quickly—slightly guiltily—and pull your gaze back up to him. Not long ago, you’d been trying to get out of eating with him and slip away as fast as you possibly could. But, now you realize it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like you had anywhere to go.

   “Yeah, fine,” you mumble sheepishly.

  Jooheon clicks his tongue, reaching for the glass of water the waiter had set on the table when seating the two of you. “That’s a lie,” he says, before taking a drink. “But I won’t press.”

  Before you can react to that, wondering how Jooheon would know such a thing was a lie, your waiter returns with your food. The way you can feel your expression instantly lighten on your face, your stomach growling in response to the delectable scent—you realize that’s how Jooheon had known you were lying. Thinking about what you were returning home too had dampened your mood enough that it was visible on your face. But the smell of the expensive, yet delicious-looking, airport food had lightened it back up.

  Jooheon smiles softly, watching you, amused at how easily food motivated you seemed to be. He gives a quiet thanks to the waiter before joining you, taking a bite of the tacos that had been ordered. The two of you eat in silence, for the most part. The only questions Jooheon asks are if you like the food, just as he had done on the plane, and how long you’ll be in Los Angeles for. Neither answer illicit much of a further reaction from him, or push him to speak more—and so you finish your shared meal together quite quickly—and thankfully before things get awkward with the staff as the restaurant nears closing time.

  You wait by the entrance while Jooheon finishes up paying. As he turns away from the counter, he sticks the receipt he was given in his wallet, before shoving that into the pocket of his sweatpants, walking over to meet you. You offer up a smile as he stops next to you.

  “Thanks for the food.” “Thank you for eating with me,” Jooheon replies, returning your smile. He can’t help but take note of how soft, and slightly shy, the way your lips appear to be turned up on your face. It’s cute. Before much more can be said, his phone goes off in his pocket.

  The sound makes you a bit jealous, and you watch as Jooheon pulls the device out and studies the name on the screen. He lets out a very long sigh before he answers the phone—and you’re almost surprised it’s in Korean, again.

  “I just finished eating,” you hear Jooheon say, and you turn away as he speaks on the phone.

  As you do so, you blink, catching sight of something—or rather, someone—peculiar.

  “Daniel?” The name falls from your lips with confusion, but with a raised-enough voice that the owner of the name—the person walking towards you—lifts their head in answer, confirming your suspicion.

  Jooheon, standing behind you, hears your voice not only against his ears—but he also hears it echo within his phone receiver, as well. Blinking in confusion, he pulls his cell phone away from his ear just enough to stare at it, surprised and confused, before turning around slowly. Jooheon looks at you, first, then lifts his gaze up to see what you’re staring at with such a surprised expression.

  “Changkyun.”

  You glance over your shoulder at Jooheon, hearing a name fall from his lips that isn’t a question—but rather, a statement. Seeing where Jooheon is staring, you look back.

  Daniel—or Changkyun—stops dead in his tracks where he’s walking, the cell phone he’s holding to his ear frozen there. He stares, dumbfounded, looking between you and Jooheon. After a few moments, your name falls from his lips in surprise—out of breath and nostalgic, the familiarity of it hits you like a wave. And then, his next word that follows has you blanching in surprise, looking once again back over your shoulder at Jooheon.

  “Uh, hi, Boss.”

  Jooheon purses his lips, lowering his phone from his ear and hanging up the call. He shoves the device back into his pocket. “You’re late.”

  “S-sorry, you know how LA traffic is.”

  “You two know each other?” You blurt, suddenly, just as Daniel nears the two of you, slowly coming to a stop.

  “I want to ask the same thing.” As he speaks, Jooheon quirks a brow at you.

  “Actually,” Changkyun clears his throat. “Same.”

  “This is the best friend-general manager that I was telling you about on the flight, for our LA location,” Jooheon explains, before nodding in your direction. “And she’s my favorite small-time journalist in Seoul.”

  Favorite small-time journalist. The words ring in your head, and you’re suddenly propelled back to weeks ago when you had found yourself wondering if Jooheon had a hand in how well your article had been doing. You purse your lips, but decide not to say anything.

  It’s Changkyun’s turn to quirk a brow, but you’re too busy turning the rest of Jooheon’s words over in your head to react. It takes a moment before your eyes suddenly widen. Your head snaps up in the direction of Daniel, eyebrows shooting up in surprise and mouth falling open. “You?! A general manager?!”

  “Wow, the lack of faith in your incredulous reaction is a testament to your faith in me,” Changkyun mutters, tone dripping with sarcasm. All you do is shake your head, still in disbelief, before looking back at Jooheon.

  “We went to high school together,” you reply simply. “And middle school, actually. We’ve been friends since then.”

  “Speaking of, why are you back? Are you here for—” Before Changkyun can finish his sentence, you loudly cut him off.

  “Oh! Look! Hoseok has the luggage!” And before waiting for either of the men next to you to react, you push past Daniel in a rush, heading towards Jooheon’s bodyguard. Changkyun blinks, surprised, meeting Jooheon’s eyes before looking over his shoulder at you. Jooheon simply shrugs, following after you a little more slowly.

  “How are you getting home?” Jooheon asks as he catches back up to you, watching as Hoseok relinquishes your luggage back to your own possession.

  You give Hoseok a small thanks, turning back. “I’m just going to call an Uber or Lyft.”

  Jooheon frowns, before looking at Changkyun. “How close are you two?”

  “Uh… close, I guess? Our families know each other, and we keep in touch, albeit inconsistently because of work.”

  “Perfect. Let her borrow your car.”

  In unison, you and Changkyun both blurt out, “What?”

  “It’s late, and it’s safer. We can just get the Uber. This way you can just head home,” Jooheon explains, matter-of-factly. “And if you two went to  school together and your families are familiar with each other, I’m sure you know where to pick your car up.”

  “Hey,” you mutter, scowling at Jooheon. “That’s not really for you to decide—”

  Changkyun sighs, waving you off. “It’s fine, it’s not a big deal. He has the right idea. You live like twenty minutes away from here, anyway.” 

  You frown, wanting to argue further—but you feel Jooheon’s intense gaze on you and figure it probably won’t get you very far. But to just make that decision on his own, without asking… you cut Jooheon a look of annoyance before turning your attention back to Changkyun as he fishes his car keys out of his pocket, pulling the car key off and taking the remaining keys on the ring. He hands it over to you, briefly explaining he’d left the car in the loading port after convincing the attendant outside that he’d only be a short amount of time, urging you should likely go soon so as to not result in his car being towed. You nod, thanking him and giving him a quick hug, before turning to Jooheon.

  Lifting Changkyun’s car key menacingly, you glare. “Don’t you dare use this as an excuse to see me and come with him and pick the car up, got it? I appreciate your concern and I’ll accept it this time—but I’m not happy about it.”

  And before he can answer, you gather your things and turn on your heel, heading away. You hear Jooheon let out an audible laugh as he watches your retreating figure. He smiles, watching you leave, and waits until you’re out of earshot before turning to Changkyun.

  “High school friends, huh? What a coincidence.”

  “That’s the girl you’ve been bugging me about?” Changkyun crosses his arms, frowning. “If so, I don’t think coincidence even begins to cover it.”

  Jooheon tilts his head to the side, curious.

  “She’s the one, right? The failed contract you mentioned?” Changkyun prompts, before letting out a bitter chuckle as Jooheon nods. He shakes his head, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Ha… I can’t even be surprised, with the divorce and all…”

  “Divorce?” Jooheon echoes.

  Changkyun frowns. “My statement that she dodged earlier. Why she’s back here… her parents are getting a divorce. Long time coming, honestly, and she probably got dragged back into it. There’s… a lot in that household that’s worth escaping, to be honest. Which makes sense why she sought you out.”

  “If it makes so much sense, then why’d the contract fail?”

  “Do you really not know?” Changkyun wonders, quirking an eyebrow as he levels his gaze with Jooheon’s.

  “I’m not here to play guessing games, Changkyun,” Jooheon mutters. “It just happened to be convenient that you showed up to see who I was referring to, and coincidence that you know her and we were on the same flight. But I’ve been venting all this to you for the past few months because I’m at an utter loss as to why the contract would have failed. I’m not all-knowing, despite what people may think. Now that you’ve seen her, I’m assuming you have an answer. So, spill.”

  Changkyun smirks, stepping forward to place a hand on Jooheon’s shoulder. “My Lordship… that girl is your soulmate.”

  Soulmate.

  Before the word even processes, Jooheon is scoffing, to which Changkyun tsks.

  “You were human at one point, too. We all have one. Even you, the King of Hell,” Changkyun chastises. “I’m guessing you probably can’t see it, or you would’ve caught on much sooner—but her aura, it reads totally differently when she’s next to you in comparison to when she was walking away. It’s quite interesting to see this in person, I’ve only ever heard of it happening a few times through sources.”

  Jooheon frowns, studying Changkyun’s face for any sign of a lie. Soulmate. Another person with which one had a natural affinity and deeper connection toward. The connection was often instantaneous and natural—and strong enough that one would feel themselves drawn to that other person in every single way while simultaneously bringing about a sense of peace and calm. Jooheon wanted to scoff again. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in them. He’d seen the magic at work for others. But, for himself?

  And yet, so many things made sense. His anxiety eased when near you. The entire plane trip, everything had been calm. A sort of calm he’d never experienced before. Just as much as things had been calm, though, every touch had set ablaze his nerve endings. He hadn’t experienced such a nervousness in someone else’s presence in years.

  What an ironic twist of fate this had to be—the universe was definitely playing games with him, now. He was well aware he’d pissed off many higher powers over the years… but to do this to him? Send him his own soulmate, on a silver platter, begging to make a contract with the Devil? Begging for release? Begging to forget?

  To forget…

  Jooheon blinks, realization dawning on him—the migraines you’d mentioned. He lets out an audible groan, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Of course that would be a side effect. While he had never had a contract fail in the past, unless a soul really wasn’t set on release—a broken contract could amount to many side effects, some more serious than others. In most cases, Jooheon had witnessed the failed cases simply go insane. But since your request had been so definite and simple, it made sense that it would backfire with a physical manifestation like this.

  That’s why she doesn’t remember me.

  “Changkyun, I need a drink,” Jooheon mutters, brushing past both him and Hoseok. The two share a look, and Changkyun stares after Jooheon in confusion, before trailing after in a hurry.

#jooheon fanfic #monsta x fanfic #mx fanfic #jooheon scenarios

[auncyen]

since vday is coming up have angsty pegoryu bit that is doomed to never make it into the fic it was intended for

There were three guards at the intersection, and Ryuji watched them with narrow eyes. Two of them looked like all the other guards they'd already fought, tall and thin and looming. And then the third--

"We should take that one hostage, right?" Ryuji asked. "He's a shrimp."

"Actually, I'm getting some weird readings off him," Futaba said. "I'd advise caution."

"Besides, taking hostages isn't going to work with these shadows," Morgana muttered. "Remember, they're all distorted to think nothing is better than serving the Palace master. If you take one of them hostage, the others will just leave it to die."

Ryuji grunted. He wanted to fight, find Ren quickly, but he guessed that plan wouldn't work.

"That one does look weird," Ann said. She squinted. "Doesn't it look...human? Fox?"

"Yes, I noticed the same thing," he said with a nod. "It's not easy to see from this distance, but its chin is visible between the mask and jacket. It does look human. Actually..." He made a noise that nearly sounded pained.

"Fox?" Haru prompted gently.

"...Again, the distance makes it difficult to be certain of details. But, though we came to look for Joker as an inmate, I...I want to say that warden is him. He's standing straighter, and his shoulders are broader. The jacket may be bulkier than his thief suit. Otherwise, those are his proportions. And his jawline."

In better circumstances Ryuji would rib Yusuke about being able to tell his boyfriend's jaw from fifteen meters away.

These were not good circumstances. Now that Yusuke had mentioned it, the shorter, more modest stature really looked too much like a human's proportions compared to the other shadows. It looked right for Ren's size.

...Ren being one of the aggressive guards instead of a passive prisoner was going to make things messier.

"Oracle," Makoto spoke up. "Does that make sense at all for the readings you have?"

"...Unfortunately, yeah." Futaba squinted behind her googles, tapping at a minimized console. "He doesn't read exactly like Joker usually does, but he has that mutable quality. Like he could change into other things."

"The wildcard ability," Morgana murmured, his ears flattened. "That's him for sure. I know it."

Makoto chewed her lip. "All right. We separate that one from the normal guards. If that is Joker, he's distorted from the Palace, so we'll need to rip his--that mask off. if we're lucky, that will be enough to snap him out of it. Panther, have Dormina ready, we don't want to harm him."

"Got it," Ann said with a serious nod. "Hecate and I will give him sweet dreams."

"Oracle--"

"Final Guard? Been ready."

"Skull. You're up for the ambush."

Ryuji swallowed down a gulp. He had the most practice with ambushes besides Ren, yeah, but he still wasn't sure he could ambush Joker. And not just because Ren was more skilled at those. This was his boyfriend. Even if Ann was ready to put him to sleep so no one got hurt, could she be sure she'd get the spell to stick the first time?

"Skull," Makoto repeated. "...I'll do it, if you can't."

Makoto had less experience than him. She also had shorter arms, which didn't help when you were reaching to pry off a mask, and she couldn't sprint as fast as he could. Ren was distorted--he might hurt whoever tried the ambush. "No, I got this," Ryuji said.

He did not.

They waited for the right moment, as the guard-possibly-Ren started to approach their hiding spot. At first it seemed like he was making a patrol same as other wardens, so they waited for him to pass by or turn away from their hiding spot, but then Futaba whispered: "Incoming."

Ryuji snuck a glance. Under the bulky visor-like mask, a small grin had started on the guard's face. It grew as he beelined toward them. Like he knew exactly where they were.

And Fox was right. That was unmistakably Ren's jawline, and his wild smile when he thought he had the upper hand in a fight.

Ryuji swore under his breath and launched himself out of hiding so he could at least make an attempt to get the strange black mask off. He jumped right at Ren, hoping Ann was ready with Dormina--

And Ren just fucking sidestepped him like the ninja he was. Then, to add injury to insult, his baton caught Ryuji on the shin, tripping him up.

The blow was softened when he caught Ryuji before the blond could hit the ground. The baton dangled slack as the hand that had been holding it rose, delicately moving his mask to the side to expose more of his face.

Ren's eye peeked out from the mask, irises red as the veins of Mementos, still half-hidden under curly black bangs, and Ryuji felt his heart thud in his chest.

But Ren chuckled, smiling like Ryuji was the best thing he'd ever seen. "Caught you," he bragged, like they'd both just been playing around. Still holding the blond, he lowered his face and kissed him.

The sudden turnaround was too much, too fast for Ryuji; his first instinct was to pull away. But in his position, he didn't have good leverage, and Ren seemed to take his lips pulling away as an invitation to chase. At the second kiss, Ryuji felt himself softening, some of the tension uncurling from his muscles. The disorientation from nearly falling faded as he got his feet back under him. And despite the strange mask and warden's uniform, Ren helped him along. Once upright, Ryuji grabbed the stiff warden jacket and eagerly returned the kiss. Would Ren be doing this if he was still stuck on that bullshit about giving up his desires? No way. Maybe just seeing them had been enough to jog something for him. Maybe just seeing Ryuji had been enough to break through the distortion. The blond had never considered himself a romantic before, but he was willing to consider true love breaking curses when Ren was kissing him so, so passionately, hungrily.

Desperately. This time, Ren pulled away, wrenching Ryuji's hand off him and taking a couple steps back, and Ryuji knew from the wide red eye that something was wrong. Ren palmed the strange mask back over his face, hiding his expression except for the tight smile at his lips.

"Lust...how disappointing. Still clinging to that desire."

Ryuji's fists tightened. So Ren's head was still full of that distorted bullshit. Ryuji might not be a romantic, but he knew for damn sure that his feelings were more than just lust. "Joker," he said, "We're bringing you back home."

Ren shook his head. He clasped the baton more firmly in hand again, his back ramrod straight. "Lord Yaldabaoth made you all a generous offer. You can still take it. Leave now, and your trespass will be overlooked."

#pegoryu #ren amamiya #ryuji sakamoto #I STILL LIKE THIS BIT #but yeah I. I don't think the fic it was meant for will get there lol

[amiableabomination]

Papa Emeritus x F! Reader

3,853 words; 18+ only 

Description: Papa III and the reader try to relax from their busy schedule on a short excursion in the gardens. The two, after a bit of drama, decide to spend some “quality time” together . . .        

          Light shone through the clerestory, mottled fragments of color from the stained glass dotting the dark cathedral’s nave. The muffled singing of birds could be heard from within the hollow interior, characterizing the fervent life of late spring. Even within the accursed church, life flowed through it like blood through veins. The cathedral was alive, ghouls and votaries roaming through the halls to grant the tasks of the Dark Lord.

           In the boisterous hall, I sat still before the cathedral’s bema, silently voicing an extensive prayer. A grucifix rosary hung around my neck, one of my hands drifting upwards to clutch the satanic cross when my prayer reached its denouement.  Some other clergy members and Sisters of Sin also resided in the nave, some praying, others filing through to finish the church’s numerous tasks.

            On the pulpit stood a queer figure whom I recognized as Papa Emeritus III, face obscured with the geometric shape of a skull. Unlike his older brothers, this satanic priest held a spark of excitement except for today, it seems. The younger Emeritus was drifting through the scriptures for tonight’s gathering, his eyes drifting over the pages apathetically. Since this Papa could no longer attend the world-wide rituals, succeeded by Cardinal Copia, he could only begrudgingly lead the sermons. I’ve attended a couple, most of which his brothers guided. His two older brothers were busy doing their own menial tasks today, though, and tonight was his turn to lead the gathering.

           His gaze drifted from the book as he espied me rising from the floor and preparing my exit. I sent him a furtive glance but quickened my pace as I noticed his attention was on me. Papa must have recognized me as he flashed me a smile, disregarding the tome. Standing at the edge of the pulpit, he greeted me with a short bow. He adjusted his casual suit and folded his arms, preparing to speak as I awaited his acknowledgment.

           “Greetings sister, I didn’t expect to see you here this hour. Paying respects to our Infernal Master, no?”

           “Of course. I have a rather busy schedule today so I’m trying to pay my dues before it’s too late,” I explained with a wave of my hand. I crossed my arms with a playful smile, mimicking the satanic pope’s actions. “It seems you’re busy as well. I’m not surprised. There’s so much that needs to be done this time of year.”

           “Ah, yes, I have both my hands full today but!” Papa III raised his hand in exclamation, before gesturing to me. “I am free to spend any amount of time with you, tesoro.”

           Papa III winked slyly and I scoffed in a joking manner, unfolding my arms. As I began my answer, he descended, taking graceful steps down the sculpted pulpit and onto the marble floor below. My voice almost cracked as I surveyed his grand descent.

           “Charms or not, I would really appreciate it,” I admitted, peering into his bicolored eyes. I regained my posture and my voice as he halted. “However, as fun as that sounds, I must not procrastinate on my tasks. You know how Sister Imperator is with us Sisters of Sin.”

           Papa’s face fell but he soon smiled persistently, a little disappointed but not too much so. I felt bad to leave him to his work, something he wasn’t quite fond of. He’s not meant for all the work the church imposes on him, but I suppose his brothers have enough tasks as is and the Cardinal is busy with his own gig. Still, he manages to do a damn good job whether he liked it or not.

           “I insist, just this once. Please,” Papa begged, something I rarely hear the likes of. “I can’t concentrate on my work knowing I missed an opportunity to be with you.”

           I furrowed my brows and let out a sigh, knowing that if I didn’t he’d either slack on his duties or bother me about it until I give in. I reluctantly nodded, my lips upturning into a pleasant smile. He beamed, his face ecstatic at the prospect.

           “Where would you like to go? The gardens? Or, perhaps, underneath the cupola in the library? It’s perfect for dancing. They recently established an audio system in there! Oh, you’d love it and - oh!” Papa suggested, his eyes brimming with excitement. Without missing another beat, he added, “Maybe you’d prefer my bedroom?”

           I chortled and shook my head, “Ugh! No, no, no thanks . . . Though, I wouldn’t mind venturing through the gardens. I haven’t seen the flowers blooming since last summer. The ghouls have tried to get me to see the blossoms but I just never really have the time.”

           “Well, what are we waiting for, then? Would you care to join me, tesoro?”

           He intertwined his gloved fingers with mine, much to my chagrin. However, I’d be a fool to say I didn’t enjoy it. He swung our linked hands steadily back and forth and I couldn’t help but feel amused by his childish antics. Then, he raised both of our hands to his lips, giving a gentle peck on my thumb. I paused, unsure of what just occurred.

           “Just to show my appreciation for your company,” Papa informed, his gaze fixated on me. I felt uncomfortable but in a pleasant way. I flashed him a gentle smile to reciprocate his feelings. 

           Satisfied with my response, Papa resumed the journey. We traipsed through the cathedral, winding through various corridors. I’d have to admit that the walk was absolutely marvelous, the cathedral’s imagery so dear to my heart. We weaved through crowds of clergy members and ghouls, almost colliding multiple times as I gawked at the cathedral’s magnificent beauty. Normally I don’t notice the church’s features due to being situated in one area all the time. Rarely can I revel in its entire glory, which is hard due to its Brobdingnagian proportions. Eventually, though, my sight-seeing was cut short as Papa halted, my form inches from colliding into his back. I quickly regained my composure, noticing the sculpted doors before us.

            “Here we are,” Papa announced with a flourish of his gloved hands. He beckoned me to step forward and I obliged, reluctantly walked up to the entrance. I ran my fingers along the engravings, noticing the minute detail and care that went into this very door. It depicted a garden of its own, the wooden carvings of plants seemingly thriving themself. This cathedral never ceases to amaze me. The décor is astounding. 

           Papa paused so I could admire it some more before continuing, “Without further ado, allow me.”

           With a hefty push, Papa opened the extravagant double-wide door, the morning zephyr rustling my hair and cassock. My spirits brightened as the sun’s light and the tranquility of Mother Nature washed over me. I ambled out into the cathedral’s garden and instantly I was transfixed on what lay before me. Everything from wisteria trees, roses of many varieties, hydrangeas, zinnias, and many, many more caught my eye. It was a vast expanse of verdure and blossoms that completely engrossed me. It was even more extravagant than last year. Now I understood why the ghouls were so eager to show me.

           Not many people roamed the garden at this hour besides one of the caretakers watering some of the flora. Not only that, the morning hours granted us protection from the harsh afternoon heat. It was perfect and I couldn’t ask for a more magical excursion.

           Laughter erupted from the youngest Papa and I whipped around to see the commotion. However, I quickly realized the humor was on me as he peered at my wonderstruck form. He approached me, slowly, before resting a gentle hand on the small of my back.

           “Come un raggio di sole hai illuminato la mia vita. Seeing your face in awe is such a sight to behold. Tesoro . . .”

           The proximity between us seemed to only be the width of a hair, his hands enveloping me as I focused my attention on him and him only. I felt calm but my half-lidded eyes snapped open. I couldn’t register my feelings or why he was making me feel this way but it was all too much.

           “Sorry – I mean, I – Ugh! What is this? I don’t understand,” I exclaimed, unsure of what was going on. Various emotions swarmed my once serene mind and I couldn’t register my thoughts. 

           Papa was shocked for a moment but attempted to console me regardless. I tried to resist but I couldn’t. Seeing his face contorted in such a hurt expression made my heart ache. I didn’t know if the few people in the gardens looked upon us like we were mad but at this point, I didn’t care. 

           “What . . . What are you doing to me?” I whimpered as he enveloped me in his warm embrace. Was this a trick? I was – no – am his best friend for what? A couple years? Why would he suddenly act this way if he didn’t have any ulterior motives?

           “I’m sorry for being so brash, I–,” Papa apologized, rubbing my back in slow, fluid movements. “If you hate me, I understand, but please, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. I just – please hear me out. Please look at me.”

           He tried to move my head but I was too embarrassed to let him. He sighed but not in malice, no. He was clearly hurt.

           “Just tell me, Papa: Why? Why do this?”

           “What do you want me to say?” Papa hissed, looking elsewhere but me. However, I knew he really didn’t direct his anger at me even though his voice steadily grew louder and louder. “I love you! Why can’t I love you? Is it because of my reputation? Fuck my reputation! I love you, cara mia! Do you hear?”

           By now, the birds seemed to stop tweeting and the gentle rustle of leaves was long gone. Papa narrowed his brows, tears pricking his eyes and smudging his makeup. He looked like a mess but so did I. I stepped back from him yet again, feeling the thorns of a rose bush pricking my back.

           “I . . . I really want to love you, and I do, but,” I paused, glancing elsewhere before letting my vision land on Papa yet again. “I’ve felt many feelings towards you, Papa, for so fucking long. I know I shouldn’t have let it all out right here and now but I can’t help it. I love you too, you sick bastard. However, I can’t – I mean – I don’t know what to do? How am I to expect this won’t lead to heartache?”

           “Tesoro, please, come here,” Papa asked, his voice hoarse and weak. I hesitantly obliged, wondering why such a simple request would lead me back to him. I realized as I walked towards him that the garden was completely vacant. It was just the two of us now and I wouldn’t doubt we scared everyone off. Still, this was my chance but it seemed he beat me to the opportunity.

           Instantly, his lips were upon mine, kissing every bit and portion of my lower face until I giggled. The need I had for him disintegrated all prior negative emotions. I kissed him back, not caring about the paint that smudged both of our faces. I was finally in bliss and I would not back down.

           Suddenly, I realized we were on the ground. I was straddling his waist, our lips still interlocked and our hands grasping at each other as if the other would suddenly vanish. Eventually, though, this grasping turned into tugging and I found my body bare besides my undergarments. I removed some of his own clothing and paused to look upon the image before me. He had by no means an athletic body but it had this indescribable charm I found inexplicably alluring. I immediately feasted upon his flesh, sucking and biting the tender spots of his skin. He couldn’t help but whimper as I hit sweet spot after sweet spot.

           “Voglio le tue mani su tutto il corpo ¡Ho voglia di te!”

           I heeded his command and tugged off the remaining clothing he had on. His body was mine for the taking. He allowed me to be in control, fighting back on occasion, and I loved it. Our hands wandered across each other’s bodies on the soft blanket of grass, heeding no possible passerby. In the moment, it was the least of our concerns.

           Somehow throughout the deed, I found myself completely bare and we both paused, reveling in each other’s glory, praising each other with sweet whispers and affections.

           “I have never felt as loved as I am now before you, Papa,” I murmured endearingly, stroking his side with one of my free hands, the other supporting my body above him. He grinned ear-to-ear, his makeup made his expression look hauntingly, but the tingling of fear along my spine only turned me on more. I couldn’t help but let a moan escape my lips by the sheer sight of him.

           “Fuck me, please,” I whimpered, letting my hand slide down his side, resting on his cock. He recoiled and I paused. “May I?”

           “Do as you please,” Papa said with a smirk and I immediately started stroking his member between my fingers. I locked our lips together and I couldn’t help but rub my thighs together in anticipation of relinquishing my arousal in ecstasy.

           “Fuck, thank you. Just like that,” Papa groaned, his hips thrusting into my hand. I teased him with my mouth, sloppily kissing the tip of his dick and along the shaft. He whimpered and I relented, licking the head before inserting most of his thick girth in my mouth. I bobbed my head, minding which actions made him moan and squirm the most. Eventually, I stopped, making him shift in discomfort. Drool ran down my chin as I flashed him a lop-sided grin in which he sluggishly returned.

           “Do you have a condom, Papa?” I inquired, unsure of whether to take this even further. He seemed dazed for a moment and before I could repeat my question he nodded a couple times. He was a tad reluctant but understanding of my request. He shifted, feeling his suit for what I assumed was the object of my request. Eventually, even through my playful teasing, he retrieved a condom from one of his pockets.

           “Of course, here.”

           I stopped for a moment to grab the condom and quickly ripped the packaging open. After I placed on the protection, I felt more confident to continue. I brushed a light kiss upon his lips in gratitude, and he squirmed underneath my touch.

           “Yes, yes, Papa. Calm yourself and you shall be thoroughly rewarded,” I assured, rubbing his shoulder to ease his impatience. He groaned, giving me a pitiful look, his green and white eyes entrancing me in their hue. I took his cock in my hands again, returning to the steady motion much to his pleasure. However, this time, it was he who would gain the upper hand. Before I knew it, he was on top of me, one of my thighs still wrapped around his hip.

           “Ah,” I gasped, even a bit surprised. “Please . . .”

           Papa, heeding my call, opened up my legs and pressed his lips upon my fold. My entire body shivered as his tongue ran across my labia and onto my clit. He suckled, my legs involuntarily twitching from the sensation, my hand instinctively gripping his short, raven-colored hair. He didn’t seem to mind when I pulled, more so it seemed he found great pleasure in it so I persisted. His hand gripped onto my thighs, the other stroking his member. Every once-in-a-while, he’d kiss and bite the inner part, driving me to the edge. I was so wet and so very close.

           Before I could register that he stopped, I felt Papa’s hot breath on my ear. I moaned and arched my back in anticipation of his words, his voice sending light shocks through my neck.

           “Ready, cara mia?”

           I immediately knew what was next and nodded my head profusely. My mind was a mess by now and I needed relief by his touch.

           “Yes, yes! I beg of you!” I exclaimed, parting my thighs to give him more room. He positioned himself on my slick entrance, slipping in his engorged cock. I gasped, my eyes nearly rolling in the back of my head by the sensation. His girth fit me perfectly and my heart swelled. The love I felt for this man ignited my nerves on overdrive, sending sensations all over me that I’ve never felt the likes of.

           Each thrust from his hips ignited butterflies in my stomach. It seemed he found great pleasure as well, his mouth agape, emitting mellifluous moans. Nothing made me happier than in this moment with him.

           Papa’s pace quickened as he leaned into my body, embracing me in a vice grip. His breathing was hot and heavy, the air tickling my chest with each breath. He was like an incubus, pounding my cunt with such force and skill that I couldn’t help but let out a cry as I came. It’s as if he knew exactly how and where to please me, his hands knowing exactly where to go.

            Eventually, I noticed his brows furrowed and his teeth clenched. Every motion seemed to bring him on the edge. I knew he was close.

            “I can’t any longer,” Papa groaned, clutching my waist and pounding my cunt even harder. “Ah, I’m – !”

            Papa thrust once more and paused, his entire body twitching, the thick muscles on his thighs relaxing and contracting repeatedly. He pumped his cock a couple more times before sliding out. His grip on me lessened and I let out a heavy sigh, my insides a big jumbled mess from the event that just transpired. My gaze landed on his face. He was clearly tired but his expression showed that he was elated and as was I. I’ve never felt so fulfilled and I couldn’t help but imagine us fucking again. Papa collapsed next to me, both of us still very naked, our hands intertwined loosely.

           “Ah, my love, I hate to provoke you but we should probably move,” Papa informed as he glanced around for anybody nearby. I let out a concise laugh and rolled over to face him. After a moment, I nodded and indolently sat up, putting on my undergarments and cassock. He eased me up after he cleaned and dressed himself, steadying me on my weak legs. He offered to carry me but I politely declined as not to overexert him. 

            I followed him throughout the cathedral to the bedrooms, not heeding the gazes of the other residents of the church on our disheveled appearance. Eventually, though, we arrived in his room. The room was dim and dismal but oh so inviting. It was a lavish dark purple with gothic, baroque furniture strewn about artfully. It seemed he took great pleasure in decorating his room and I wondered whether it was for his own satisfaction or to impress people like me.

            Papa seemed to notice the atmosphere, lighting a match and igniting the wicks of his plentiful candles. The lambent light created a soothing atmosphere, which eased me furthermore. Next to one of the candelabras, I spotted Papa’s bed, partially obscured by diaphanous, sable drapes surrounding it. 

            Enervated, especially after seeing the bed, I collapsed onto the plush mattress. I felt incredibly peaceful and relaxed. I crawled under the duvet and wrapped my arms around Papa, which he eagerly reciprocated. We were still for a moment but something began eating at me. Uncertain of if I should say it, I sat up which alerted a very sleepy Papa, his hair rustled and his makeup an abhorrent mess. I suppressed a laugh as I found it quite adorable.

           “You don’t have to get up, Papa,” I assured, pressing lightly on his chest with the palm of my hand. “Though, I want to know something if you don’t mind me asking.”

          “What is it, cara mia?” Papa responded, cocking his brow. He pulled his hand from underneath the damask duvet and rest it upon my thigh. My lips upturned in amusement of his actions and I rest against the headboard, unsure of whether to continue. I breathed in sharply, our eyes locking, my vision transfixed on his multicolored orbs. His brows creased as he awaited my response.

          “I know this is silly and I probably shouldn’t ask you this,” I murmured, unsure if I sounded too rude or inquisitive. I inhaled deeply. “Do you love me? Like, truly? This isn’t some ruse . . . Is it?”

          Papa only chuckled and shook his head, sitting up despite me insisting otherwise. He turned towards me, peering into my eyes for a moment before letting out a sigh. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his body. I felt content in his warmth.

          “Of course I love you, even though you can be quite the she-devil at times,” Papa jested, poking me in the side. I gasped, distancing myself from him instinctively. I narrowed my eyes before playfully shoving him on his shoulder. He caught one of my arms with ease and pushed me against the mattress. He climbed on top of me, his hands pinning my arms above my head all the while. I was thoroughly shocked, all thoughts of defiance slipping from my mind, subdued by his assertive action. Even still, my grin did not waver as he pressed his lips against my ear.

          “Such a little brat, tesoro. Why don’t you find out yourself? Would you like me to show you how much I love you?”

          I moaned in anticipation, awaiting his ravishing. However, that didn’t quite come.

          Suddenly, he retracted from my form after smothering my neck in kisses. I whined as he left me on the bed, alone.

         “Well, too bad, tesoro,” Papa teased with a wink. “Naughty girls don’t get rewarded.” 

         I watched him from the bed as he undressed, slowly taking each article of clothing off, knowing I enjoyed the view. It also left me aching for his touch. Though, as he finished, I snapped out of my senses, remembering something.

          “What about our work? It’s still morning, is it really right to slack off?” I queried as he slid into the covers next to me. He groaned as he shifted for comfort before he rested on his side, facing me. He pulled me into a firm hug, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

          “Forget about it, cara mia. Just stay here with me a little longer. Please?”

          My heart quivered at his sleepy, husky voice. I suppose I’m a sucker for his begging. With that, I kissed his cheek as his eyes fluttered closed, his breathing calm and rhythmic. I couldn’t be happier than here with him.

#Papa Emeritus III #x reader #the band ghost #imagine #ghost bc #reader insert #fanfic #amiable abomination #writing #lemon #This was supposed to be just a writing exercise #I think I went a bit overboard

[spunkylea]

The furnace repair man

This story starts out about my cat, Oreo.  Yes, she's black and white and the runt of the litter.   She was small and people always thought she was still a kitten when she was fully grown.  But more about her later. It was a blistery cold March Saturday when my furnace went out.  After fucking around with it for an hour, doing all the things I had done in the past to get it running I finally gave in and called my furnace guy.  Well, the bad news was he was on vacation in Florida.  The good news was he left a name and number on his answering machine for service in cases of emergency. I called the new number and a burly sounding man by the name of Dave answered.  I told him of my problems with the furnace and he said he could be out in an hour or two. In about an hour and ten minutes I heard his van pull into my driveway.  I wasn't surprised in the least by his appearance.  He looked just like he sounded on the phone. About five foot ten, burly, and roughed good looks.  Built like a lumberjack and kinda dressed like one too.  Bib overalls, and a plaid flannel shirt.  He had a coat on, but pulled it off before walking to my back door.  I let him in saying, "you must be Dave".   He said, "yep,and you must be Roger,  where's the beast that needs my attention?"  I led him to the basement and he got right to work.  I offered him coffee or hot chocolate but he refused the offer saying maybe later.  I went back upstairs to make the hot chocolate.  About 10 minutes he came up saying he needed a part from his van.  Once back on the job, he had her (the furnace) fired-up and pumping out heat like brand new.  He collected his tools and came up from the basement.  "She needed a new fuel nozzel is all.  Should be nice and toasty in here pretty soon" he said.  "Can I use your bathroom to clean up a bit?  Then I'll take a cup of that hot chocolate, if the offer still stands."  I show him to the bathroom and poured us both a cup of hot coco.  Now, a small detail I forgot you mention is that my bathroom door has louvers in it to let the heat in.  You can't see through them but you can hear pretty much everything going on in there.  And after washing up, I heard him taking a leak.  Now this is where Oreo comes back into the picture.  You see she loves to watch me pee.  And if my bathroom door is not latched properly she just jumps on it and it opens.  Well, that's exactly what happened. Oreo pushes the boor open.  There stood Dave, bib overall down to his ankles holding what looked like the thickest cock I had ever seen in my entire life.  And let me tell you, I've played with, and sucked plenty of cocks in my day.  Dave was also holding his shirt up aound his chest, probably to keep from pissing on it.  So I'm seeing this man completely naked from the chest down.  Oh my God, what a sight!  He was so hairy!  Thick curly black hair covering every inch of him.  And that ass just jutted out begging to be eaten and fucked.  I immediately started getting  hard.  I ran to the door, close it and apologized for Oreo jumping on it and opening it.  But before I did, I took one more (what felt like a full minute) look at that gorgeous dick and ass.  Dave just chuckled and said, "That's quite a talented cat you got there.  What other tricks have you taught her."  I apologized again and assured him that I had not taught her that.  He just laughed as I heard him washing his hands.  When he came out of the bathroom, I once again apologized and told him how embarrassed I was.  Dave just chuckled again and said, "Hey, we're both guy, its not like you saw something that you don't have, right?"  I laughed and replied, "Yea, but yours is a whole lot bigger than mine and you're ten times more hairier than me. Not that I was staring or anything."  He chuckled again and said, "I caught you looking.  You liked what you saw, didn't you?"  I couldn't believe what he said.  I'm sure I was turning red.  I hesitated for a few seconds and then said, "well you sure have an awesome cock."  I could believe his next words.  "You've seen mine, now let me see yours"  I almost dropped my coffee cup.  He moved close to me and looked deep into my eyes.  "What would you do if I kissed you right now?"  I didn't get a change to answer before he grabbed my head with both hand and planted one on me.  He kissed me long and hard and we made out for what seemed like ten minutes, exploring each others mouth with our tongues.  He reached down and undid my belt, unbuttoned my jeans and unzipped them.  We broke our embrace and he knelt before me, pulling down my pants and underwear.  My hard cock sprung out like a jack in the box.  He looked up at me and said, "Dam man, that's a nice size cock!"  He took the head into his mouth swirling around it with his tongue for a couple minutes.  Then he went down on the whole shaft.  I could tell this wasn't his first cock.  He knew just what a man likes.  He was moaning and groaning and really enjoying sucking my dick, leaking loads of pre-cum, telling me how good I tasted.  "Don't cum yet, I want you to fuck me, OK?  Dam, I hope you're a top."  I assured him I would indeed fuck him but wanted to taste his big fat rod first.  Well, that would have to wait because we wasn't nearly ready to give up on mine.  He sucked, licked and gobbled on my throbbing cock for what seem like ten more minutes until I was very close to cumming.  I finally had to say, "OK, OK, its my turn now."  With that he released his firm grasp on me, licked his lips and stood up.  I started to undo his bib overall when he grab my face again and began making out with me.  As we kissed and sucked each others tongues, I got one strap of his bibs undone.  He took the other one of his shoulder and they dropped to the floor.  Then he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled it off over his head.  I took a half step back to take in that magnificent masculine chest, and arms.  The thought raced through my mind again that this man could very well be a lumberjack.  His hair was black, thick and gorgeous!  I ran my hands through his thick mat.  Finding his nipples, I gave them a light pinch.  Dave shuttered and  threw his head back saying, "Oh, yes, my God, I love that.  Harder, please, harder!  I gladly complied and worked one with my right hand and the other with my mouth.  I could feel his enormous meat straining against his boxers.  Without stopping the work on his nipples, I reached down and freed his cock from its captivity.  It  sprang out like a rattle snake striking its prey.  Dave gave out a moan of delight as I grabbed his cock to feel just how big it was.  Now mind you, my hands aren't that big but I couldn't close my hand around that massive tool without squeezing it some.  I had to look.  I guessed it had to be close to ten inches long and nearly seven inches round.  I wanted to run and get a tape measure, but now certainly was NOT the time for that.  Instead, I just massaged the monster, pulling, rubbing, jerking.  We had begun making out again until I broke it off to take a nice long look at my new toy.  "Oh my God, that's got to be one of the biggest cocks I've ever seen up close and personal like this!"  I dropped to my knees, hoping I could take that massive hunk of meat.  I worked its head for a few minutes, showing him that I too knew what a man likes.  Then I took the plunge.  Slowly taking an inch or so at a time until I had all but a couple of inches left.  I knew if I tried to take it all I'd gag.  I could tell Dave was enjoying my work by the wonderful grunts and moans he was making.  He grabbed my head and started skull fucking me.  Thrusting that amazing dick in me just far enough not to gag me.  "Dam man, I can't believe you can take it all.  You suck cock like a pro!  You could really make me cum any time now!"   After a few more minutes he said, "Ok, can you fuck me now?"  I said, "Yes, that sure sounds like a wonderful idea."  We striped the rest of our close off leaving them in a pile on my kitchen floor.  I led Dave to my bedroom.  He laid on his back on my bed.  "How do you want me?" he ask.  I said, "You just lay there and let me do all the work."   "Wow, a man who likes to take charge, I can get into that."   Climbing on top of him, I started making out with him, then slowly and taking my time worked down  to his neck.  From his neck I went to his left arm pit, sucking, licking and biting.  Dave is moaning with pleasure and said, "Man, you really know how to please a guy, I can't wait till you mount me and fuck the hell out of me."  "We'll get there man, just enjoy the ride", I answered.  Pits to nips, first one then the other.  I thought he was going to cum he was enjoying the trip I was taking him on so fucking much.  Ever so slowly I headed south, stopping to kiss, lick, and suck every few inches.  When I arrived a my first destination he was pouring pre-cum by the ton.  I didn't waste any time lapping it up and paying some special attention to that magnificent cock head.  I didn't want him to cum so I only worked his dick for a short time before paying some much need attention to his balls.  Hadn't mentioned it before but he has some very nice low hangers, very size proportional to his massive cock.  And I love playing with another man's balls.  I grab a pillow from the side of the bed and shoved it under him, propelling his fuck hole up where I could get at it better and lifting him up to get at that those perfectly shaped mounds of ass. "Oh my God, please fuck me now Roger, I can't wait any longer" he practically screamed.  I said,"I got to lube you up some first."  And began eating his ass.  Now I won't give away any of my secrets but I've learned a few tricks about eat ass and I used every one of them on Dave.  I was just about ready to go for the gold when I remembered one more move I just had to entice him with.  I scooted up close and started rubbing his cock with mine, taking them both in one hand and jerking us both.  We were both making so much pre cum it was getting very intense.  Time to give this man what he's begged for almost from the time he arrived.  I placed the head of my rod against his hole rubbing it.  I thought he was going to go insane.  Dave moved his ass up and down trying to force me inside.  But, as he had said, I was in charge of this fuck fest.  Slowly, I entered him with just my cock head.  In out, in out, teasing this hot masculine stud.  Knowing that I was driving him wild and that once I penetrated him completely he would love every minute of it and I wanted to prolong this great sensation for as long as possible.  Finally, even I couldn't take it any longer and I drove in slow but deep.  Dave let out a loud moan and said, "Oh fuck yes, fuck me, fuck me Roger!  Dam you, you've made me wait so long!"   I pumped my seven incher slowly at first while he jerked himself.  I pushed his hand away from his dick so I could jerk him, although I wasn't about to let him cum anytime soon.  After a few minutes I picked up the pace, faster and faster, while Dave moan and groan with ecstasy.  Then I stopped.  I think he thought I had cum but I wanted to ask him a question.  Weird you're thinking.  "So Mr. furnace repairman, do you ever top"?  I asked.   "Oh fuck yea, I do, he answered, if you think you can take it!"    "Oh, I'll take as much as I can, but I don't think any of it will go to waste.  So you're going to fuck me too, right?"  "If that's what you want, I will."  We flip fucked for about two hours and I came three times and Dave said he did too.  We decided to keep in touch  

[joshslater]

Great Meadows

@jd07201990 just dumped a bunch of unfinished scripts. So, with a few tweaks here and there, here is someone else’s content.

Sitting here, staring down at my large palmed, clammy hands, feeling the burning warmth of new hormones rushing through me, I knew I was screwed. “What’s Ma gonna think”, I thought to myself, shuffling my large, sweaty sneakered feet. I kept having flashes from the trippy process popping in and out of my head. They said it’d take a few days for me to settle in. That such a big change is always rough, especially on girls. “I should’a just stayed home…” was my last thought before another skull-splitting migraine had me fall onto the stiff cot, passed out.

I’d been incredibly curious as to why my older brothers got to go to camp every summer, and I had to stay home, or enlist in summer gymnastics classes. They always came back at the end of summer, excited to tell of all the fun they’d had, all the cool activities, new friends. It sounded amazing! I had to sit there at dinner times, listening to them rub it in. Having only small accomplishments to talk about myself when it was my turn. I was tired of it. At the end of the school year, when it was time to sign my brother’s up, I made my move. I waited for mom to fill out their forms, and stealthily made a copy for myself, changing my name from Kari, to Kaeden. I know it is an all-boys camp, but once there, what could they really do?

On departure day I hid in the back of the truck, underneath my brother’s bags and gear, for the entire ride. It was awful, but I knew it’d be worth it when I got to see what the camp was all about. I’d been afraid my treasonous bladder would give me away, but the hot car had me thirsty in the trunk after the first hour. We arrived after a 4 hr drive, and while they got their papers handed in and sorted, I snuck out of the truck and into the grounds, finding a side door open along the main building. Once our parents left, it’d be too late for them to send me home, I figured, so I waited till all the cars left, and the sun started to set, marched up to the offices where the paperwork was handled, and put mine down on the desk. The man sitting behind it looked shocked, muttered a bit, then sighed, picked up my paperwork and read it over.

Name: Kaedan Atherton Age: 16 Height: 6’1” Weight: 154 lbs Hair: Blonde Eyes: Green Known allergies: none Dietary restrictions: none

He read though all of the false information I’d added, interests, past activates.

“Miss, Atherton. I assume you’re Heath and Daniel’s sister. Yes? Are you aware this is a boy’s summer camp?” I began to answer, but he cut me off, clearly not interested in having his rhetorical question answered.

“Aaaaa... This is going to create so much problem whichever way we go about to solve this… Are you really 16, or was that made up too?”

“No, I’m 16.”

He went silent and kept staring at the desk phone, as if he expected it to ring at any moment. He sat still uncomfortably long and then suddenly lurched forward, attacked the phone and dialed a three-digit number.

“Yeah, this is Robert. Are you still looking for a candidate for Moth 3?” Whoever was on the other side spoke quite a lot. ”Yes, I have a girl.” More talking “16” The line went quiet for a bit, then some more talking. “OK, I’ll bring her over if she agrees.”

Turning to me “Alright, there is something we can do. Spend an hour for science and then you are free to spend your summer here like any other boy. Would you do that?” I’m not stupid, so I knew there was a catch. Well, not stupid enough at least, but I made this bed. Time to sleep in it. “Yes.”

“OK, you are old enough to make a decision like this on your own, legally.” He stood up and walked over to a filing cabinet, opened the next to bottom drawer and rifled around a bit. Then pulled out a few papers, walked back and handed them to me. “So. Either sign this and stay, or I’ll call your parents to pick you up tomorrow.” The papers were dense legalize. Lots of cross references to laws and precedent, as if whoever wrote it thought all of this was self-evident, or didn’t want you to understand it. I thought of what the dinner table would look like the next time we all ate together. The stories we would share. How I would be a part of them for once. Damn right I signed the papers. While I did that he brought me a glass of water and a small dropper bottle. Brown glass with a rubber pipette in the cap. He poured some water in the glass, and added two drops from the bottle. “Last chance to go home as you are.” I emptied the glass in one go.

He took my arm and lead me across the camp, using side paths that went through the trees. I had a feeling he didn’t want anyone to see me. We’d barely walked a few buildings away from his office when the world started to sway. I was getting nauseous, having a creeping feeling of dread, and I think I saw a squirrel. When we got to a large, barn style building, we went to the back and he pushed a button on an intercom on the wall. “Code 91. Immediate response required”

He looked down at me and let go of my arm as the door buzzed, and opened. Two large men dressed in white scrubs came out, grabbed me by the shoulders and rushed me through. They looked eerily like Arnold Schwarzenegger, both of them. We went down a staircase as the door above slammed shut, and entered a room full of what looked like Frankenstein’s lab equipment. I panicked, pulling myself away from the men. I tried to run towards the stairs, following the fleeing squirrels. I only made it a few feet before they grabbed me again, pulling me to a chair and sat me down. Holding me down. Another man came out of a side door, dressed in double buttoned lab coat and goggles, pulling on a pair of gloves. He spoke in a hardcore, heavy German accent.

“Ah, Code 91. Haven’t had one of these in years. Wilkommen!” I tried to scream, but the orderly to my left clapped his hand over my mouth. They were both wearing world war two style gas masks now.

“No need to fuzz, it’ll only take a bit. I’ve gotten quite good at this particular physical! Now, Franz, Dözer, please take… Hmm” the German man headed to a computer and pulled up my file. “Please take Kaedan, to ze chamber”.

With my mouth still firmly covered, I fought and yelped as the two men carried me to a table, with what looked like a giant human shaped cake pan. They forced me into the mold, strapping my legs, torso, arms, and head down into the groove, and adjusted things until I was firmly stuck. I couldn’t move a muscle. I started screaming threats, until Dözer stuffed a gag into my mouth, with a hose attached to the ceiling. All the squirrels were lined up and just laughed. I was left in the cold metal mold while the Doctor set things up on a computer panel. I could hear him mumbling.

“Hm, Kaeden Atherton. Ah, yes, the Atherton boys! Good kids those two, talented, handsome. Hm, I think I know what to do here. Kaeden, says 6’1”, so shall it be! 154 lbs, check! Eyes and hair, no problem there. Now, details… details… I guess I’ve got free reign here. That is quite some athletic accomplishments you’ve listed here. Let’s use that as a guide for muscle development. Soccer. Lacrosse. Oh, climbing? Best make sure you’re a match to your strapping brothers, eh?” The doctor started typing things and using a 3D mouse, like one I’d seen in my graphic design class, to move something on the screen. Probably more squirrels. He kept rambling off little details as the top half of the human mold came down from above me, sealing with a harsh hissing sound and a cloud of gasses. I could feel my entire body slowly turning to strawberry jell-o.

“Now, skeletal and muscular systems… tall, thin, strong boned, muscle density upped a bit, rebalance muscle fiber composition. The brothers are quite fit, might as well match… Body fat needs to go down a lot. Oxygenation, cardiac development. There.

Hmmm, just a little more in the shoulders… that’s it, nice proportions, good shape.

Chest, check. Abs, check. Hips, check. Thighs, check. Calves, check. Oh… What about size 9? Yes, that ratio of fitting… no, let’s go 10 to be sure.

Now, for the secondary features. Would’ve been easier had you been younger, but I can fix this. I think, second to highest levels. Ah, definitely. Just like Heath, no, more so! May as well go full out. Dial it up to 10.

Hormone levels, highest. Ooh, right, must match the physical bits. This will be an interesting summer for you in an all male camp. I think Miss Atheron might be the new alpha in the family when this is all settled.

What settings have we left? Hmm... Looks like you’ll be a lucky lad! 8” to be proportional to the height… you know what, let’s go for 10 again… yes, yes, and hmm, a bit thicker and make those a bit larger… there, perfect! A well built young man. On those hormone levels we’ll probably see a lot of development during the summer as well.

Now, I think we’re set! Alright, Alright, here we go! Mr. Atherton, Welcome to Great Meadows Boy’s Camp!”

With that, he pushed one last button on the control panel, and I felt the metal mold heat up and start to vibrate. I tried screaming, tears welling up in my eyes as pain shot through my body. All the squirrels ran away.

When I woke up in the rickety wooden cabin I had a pounding head ache and was completely parched. I had no idea what was real and what had been hallucinations. I was pretty sure my raging hard on was real, and the implications of that wasn’t lost. I would definitively have something to talk about at our next family dinner.

[dimensionwriter]

Deadliest Friend

Gender Neutral Monster x Genderless Reader

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I don't know why I've been struggling to write lately. I would start something and struggle to finish it. So, I apologize of this doesn't reach the standard. I just wanted to try to write SOMETHING to try to break this writer block. So, enjoy.

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You're use to a lot of things happening in your life. But sometimes, something just wear you out completly. A great example will be this week you just had.

It started off Sunday with you simply going down to the bakery to get something nice to eat on a lovely afternoon. When this old woman decided to crossed the road without looking both ways. And guess what happen to be speeding down the road? A tiny kitten, nah. More like a 18 wheeler carrying stacks and stacks of logs. In a moment of blind panic, you ran within an inch of you life and shoved the woman out of the way. The two of you crashed down on the side walk as the 18 wheeler sped past.

Even in your dazed state, you felt proud that you saved someone life. But that feeling quickly vanished when she started beating you with her cane while screaming at you to get off her. She then proceeded to walk away while grumbling how she's lived through more wars that you could count and how she was perfectly able to help herself. Not a single thank you came out of her mouth.

Then Monday came and your phone somehow died in the middle of the night, while still being plugged in. Meaning, not a single lovely melody drifted from your phone to wake you from your peaceful slumber. So when you woke up with the sun blazing through your window, you knew you messed up.

You proceed to do the entire olympic course within your house as you got ready for work, not even grabbing breakfast or lunch. You barely had a shoe on when you exited your house, it wasn't the time to think about food. But two hours in your job made you wonder if it would be okay to eat your shoe from how hard your stomach was trying to digest itself.

Tuesday was pretty decent, well, except for your closet's railing deciding to snap in the middle of the night waking you up into a fearful frantic state. You couldn't call in becuase it was late at night, so that was something future you was going to have to worry about.

Wednesday was the defintion of hell on earth. Your phone had died completely, not just the battery. Your phone didn't respond to any thing, only showing a cracked black glossy screen that reflected how much of a mess you were. So you had to drive to your cellphone company to get a new one. And then call up your residence manager to send someone over to fix the poles in your closet. You tried not to think about your piles of clothes laying everywhere on the ground.

Thursday was a little better with only all you electricity in your house being cut off. There was a storm that apparently happen during the night that knocked out all of the electricity in only one house, yours. You had to navigate your house with a flashlight and the sight of a blind person.

And all that leads up to today, Friday. You had the day off since the repair people should be coming over to fix the railing later in the afternoon. And your lights should be back on by night time, hopefully if nothing else goes wrong.

With rough sandy texture under your fingers, you slowly flipped through novel, soaking up each word. Your house was lit up from the multiple of candles you have recieved as gift during the holiday from coworker who barely knew you. But as a bonus, your house smell absolutely divine.

"….." You stopped reading to look up around at the living room you were in. It sounded like something was mumbling to you. "…turn.."

You felt chills go down your back as you were able to make out a single word out of the mumbling around you. "Turn?" You asked into the open air with a small hope that nothing would respond back to you.

"The page," it whispered in your ear. You spun your head around to see nothing but shadows. You thought it was the shadows from the candle light, but some of it remain unmoved.

"Who are you?" You asked slamming the book shut, just in case you would have to run as fast as you could out of your door. This week just had to get worse, didn't it.

"I am the beginning of the end. I am the face you see in your last breath. I am-" you cut whatever it was about to continue rambling about by holding your hand up. The shadows around the flames seem to stopped moving allowing you to get a shape out of the thing.

It was a tall broaded creature that was really blending itself into the shadow, almost like it was feeding off of them.

"I asked who you are. Not your backstory," you grumbled scooting to the edge of your sofa. Your feet touched the cool carpet. Trying to easy away the panic, you slowly ran your toes through the strands of carpet.

"Oh, well," they mumbled their voice sounding odd. It was like it was unusually high and extremely low, forming this grey inbetween. "I'm Death."

"Death?" You asked raising your eyebrow to look at them. You imagine death to be a lot more different than what is infront of you. Well, from what you can see.

"Show me yourself then Death," you taunted not believing them. It was probably just the kid next door trying to prank you. From the zombie fiasco, you wouldn't be surprise if he did this.

"Wait, you want see me?" They said in shock causing your smirk to rise up. They didn't expect that now did they. It was probably them that were cutting off the light.

"Yes, I want to see what Death looks like in the flesh," you said not even trying to cover up your heavy sarcastic tone.

"If you insist. But please reframe from screaming, for you humans are fragile and.. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Your eyebrows dropped down at the tone of that sentence. The word chocies was odd and their voice dropped down to a thick grumble at the end almost making it impossible to understand them.

You didnt have long to question the meaning of their sentence when all the candles started burning higher and brighter. You jumped up in shock as the candle infront of you became a roaring fire.

The entire room lit up making you squint your eyes at the new light source. You turned your head around to see all the candles were like that

"What the.." You sentence was cut off as you turned to where your neighbor's child should have been, but something entirely different was there.

The creature was something past anything your imagination could come up with. They seem to be towering above you, even though they were only barely touching your roof.

The body looked wrong. There looked to be a midnight black torso covered with dark silver veins twirling around like intricate designs. But there was a set of ribs bone ontop of the skin that were a blood red.

The legs were similar to what you imagine for a dragon with glimmering black scales. They turned into sharp talons that seemed to be digging deep into your carpet.

Your eyes slowly drifted upwards again at the bone covered toroso to see the arms. They too big to be proportional with his body and seem to dangle at his side, brushing the back sides of his calves. His fingers went from the black flesh colour to talon like sharp nails that looked like they could pull your heart out just by simply poking you.

They had long flowing black hair that reached farther than their arms. The hair seem to form a cloak around them with something white peaking through at the top.

You were a curious creature. And maybe just a little bit stupid. You lean over to the creature and pushed the hair back.

Instead of a human face, there seem to be a mask ontop. The mask was of antelope skull with its horns painting to a dark red, same as the ribs on their torso.

"So, you're death," you said looking at the eye holes of the skull. If you stared hard enough, you can see something moving behind the skull.

"I am death," they stated leaning forward a little. The skull pressed gently into your finger making you realize that the skull was too cool to be made of bones. It was probably crystals or somrthing.

"I imagine you to be different," you said looking down at the body again. Their form was sleek but still had some muscles in it.

"Humans have a limited imagination. It quite funny seeing your version of me. The only noticable thing being a black cloak and a scythe," they said and a small thing of laughter came out of them, shaking their frame.

"So death, why are you in my home? And if you say for me, I am booking it out of here," you said pushing the hair back trying to see any emotions present on their face, well mask you guess.

"No of course not. I couldn't bear taking such a thing from this horrific world," they said lifting their arm up. You glanced down to see their arm laying on the arm rest.

"They why are you here?" You asked dropping your eyebrows in suspicious. They seem to freeze at the question. You felt something brush past your knee and looked down to see that their talons were pushing into your couch.

"Oh, why am I here?" They mumbled looking down causing their hair to fall out of your hand. "I'm here because… well... you see."

You noticed that their mask was turning from a white to a light pink. Is the make part of their face? Wait, that means death is blushing right now.

"Calm down. You acting like I'm accusing you of being the reason all this stuff happen," you joked trying to calm them down. But their mask turned a bright red as they brough their head down in shame.

"Wait, are you serious? How did you manage to kill my phone? I got in trouble with my boss for being late," you yelled getting angry. You lean over the arm rest to get closer to death. You don't know the consequences of fighting death, but you are about to find out.

Their arms shot out to hold you in place causing their hair to swing back. Allowing you to see their mask was now pure red, matching the horns. But you noticed that there was now a pair of golden spheres in the eye socket. They were shaking slightly, as if working as their eyes.

"I didn't mean to. I was trying to walk past it, but the talon accidently touched it and it died. And I sincerely apologize for your closet. I-I slide in there to hide in there when you kept moving in your sleep and my shoulder put too much pressure on it," they rambled quickly with their voice jumping on random octaves. You blinked as you processed the information.

You let out a gasp and jumped out of their reach. You stood ontop of you couch as you looked at them with fear. "Where you watching me while I was asleep?"

"No!" They squeaked backing away. Their arms shot up to cover their face, clearly embarrassed. But it was obvious they were lying to you.

"You were. I don't care if you're human or not, but that's weird. How would you feel I were to watch you sleep," you yelled jumping on the couch.

"That would be kind of nice." They grumbled something but you couldn't understand them. "I mean, I know it was wrong, but that was the only way to see you without you seeing me."

The anger kind of subsided, but there was still some there. "Why?" You asked confused.

"Well, I'm sure you wouldn't be please with someone like this," their hand displayed their definetly not human body to you," appearing to you. So, I tried to stick to the shadows, which is hard when you humans are light based."

Light based? You glanced around at the numerous candles burning through your house. Oh, before your electricity went out, your lights were always on. Guess would have been hard for them to navigate.

"But you still didn't answer my question. Why are you here? Why are you trying to see me?" You asked splaying your hand against your chest. They started playing with the bottom of their hair as if they were trying to distract yourself.

"Well, Sunday, I was schedule to retrieve an old woman soul. She was schedule to get hit by an 18 wheeler around noon. But this human stopped it somehow and I was… well curious. So I started following you around, which I knew was creepy, but humans can't see us when we don't want them to, so I was just gonna stay for a little bit. But then I became fascinated by how you lived your normal human life. And so, I continued to watch. I didn't plan on staying for too long or causing too much trouble."

"If you wanted to get to know me, you could have just simply talked to me, like we are doing now. I'm sure you thought I would scream my head off, but I didn't, did I?" You sat down on the back out your couch. It was kind of uncomfortable, but it will have to due for now.

"I guess not. So your not scared of me," they asked talking a step forward, slowly sinking their talons into the carpet. The high burning candles casted an eerie light over the creature beside you. But the light pink blush on their mask and the way the talons on their hands were twirling the ends of their hair, made them seem like the least threating thing in the world.

"As long as you stop staring at me while I sleep," the blush returned back heavier," and don't lurk in the shadow. I'll say we could be good friends."

"Friends," they whispered as if testing the word. "I've never had a friend before." You jumped off the back of the couch. You slowly made your way over to the creature. They truly did tower over you.

"Well, there's a first for everything," you said sticking your hand out towards them. They looked down at your hand before slowly lifting their owns and laying it gently into yours. Their skin was slightly cooler than yours, but it felt pleasant. Their skin felt like silky and flawless. "You can now say you got yourself a friend Death."

Part 2

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Tadaaa. Yeah, I didn't have the usual things I like to include, but at the same I time I really hope y'all like it. Please comment on any of my works, I love reading them. Tell me what you would like to see more of or if you interested in seeing me write somrthing new. I'm also interested in writing headcanons, so start requesting some. Any way, enjoy your the rest of your day or night.

#my writing #exophilia #monster romance #monster boy #monster love #monster girl #monster boyfriend #monster #creature #death #death mention #my oc stuff #my ocs are my children #my ocs #writing #oc x reader #oc x character #monsta x #tetro #grim reaper #friends #akward #not human #bad week #i suck at writing tags #dimensionwriter

[lainelannister]

I'd love Jaime and Sansa - she reminds him of Catelyn for the 700 followers meme!

Title: A Quality of Thought

Author:  lainelannister

Ship(s):  Jaime/Sansa (if you squint), implied Jaime/Catelyn, implied Petyr/Catelyn

Rating: T

Trigger Warning(s): None

Brief Summary:  A quiet tavern, a cold night, a pointed stare, and a pile of hairpins. Future-fic, book-verse.

Notes: The title of this story comes from “Rebecca” by Daphne du Maurier.

She slides her hands into her tightly-braided crown of hair, and it only requires a few moments of kneading and wiggling to loosen the pins enough to comb them out using her fingers. A phantom voice- Septa Mordane’s voice- echoes through the back of her skull, clarion-clear as it reminds her of how terribly inappropriate it is to take one’s hair down in a public (even semi-public) venue.

But there’s no one here to see, no one here to care. The tavern-keep retreated to the back storeroom as soon as the fire in the hearth started to dwindle, and the stools and chairs scattered throughout the threadbare space are conspicuously free of revelers, aside from the two at the table where she now places her decommissioned hairpins, arranging them into geometric patterns.

And as for her companion- still no one to see. Still no one to care.

Ser Jaime typically pays her as little mind as he can manage, conspicuously averting his eyes whenever they walk or ride alongside each other, never attempting to engage her in conversation. While Brienne remained in their retinue, Sansa registered few complaints about Ser Jaime’s behavior- he preferred to chat and commiserate with his fellow knight…and, in all honesty, Sansa would far rather spend time with Brienne than with her sullen male counterpart.

But Brienne rides south now, a direction in which Sansa never intends to ride again if she can possibly help it. She and Ser Jaime continue their path toward Winterfell, and if long spells of quiet,  awkward mornings and vacant nights are the price she must pay to keep herself moving northward, she considers it well worthwhile.

She’s now spent quite a bit of time in deep concentration, focusing on shaping her hairpins into a pyramid, and she doesn’t feel the peculiar weight of his gaze on her face until several moments after it begins. Her eyebrows creep closer together and her jaw tightens, but she shan’t interrupt her progress until the pyramid achieves perfect proportions-

Finally, she completes the task at hand and allows her eyes to drift upwards and lock upon Ser Jaime’s own. Once again, she hears Septa Mordane’s voice warning against the rudeness of looking a man directly in the eyes…but the novelty of the golden knight’s attention rather diminishes her need for politeness.

“Is something wrong, Ser?” she breezily inquires, willing herself to keep her own bemusement from entering her tone.

Jaime replies with a half-smile and a shake of the head before lifting his mug to his lips - the mug that Sansa knows to be completely empty- and taking a “sip”.

“No, nothing.”

Even in the dim environs of the tavern, Sansa thinks she notices a flush of crimson on Ser Jaime’s face- not on his cheeks, of course (they’re too overgrown with gold, silver, and grey facial hair for her to discern their color), but on the tip of his nose. Were she less perplexed by his obvious stares- and his choice to lie about them- she might even find the blush endearing.

But before she can properly decide whether to continue this “conversation” or whether to return to her impromptu hairpin design project, Ser Jaime speaks again:

“Did I ever tell you that I knew your mother when she was around your age?”

No, because you never tell me anything. And in yet another lapse of courtesy, Sansa finds herself unable to restrain a deep sigh of frustration. She’d hoped that they were well past mentions of her family tragedies- when last he spoke of Lady Catelyn, he’d been farther into his cups than he is at present, and he’d made some cutting, thoughtless comment about the fact that he saw her dearly-departed mother more recently than she ever did, ever would.

She’d struck him across the face at that, manners be damned, reveling in the triumph conjured by his astonishment, by the crack of her palm across his cheekbone, by the small scrape left by her long fingernail just below his left eye socket.

Yes, she’d thought he learned his lesson from that surprising exchange. But clearly there’s more to say…and clearly, he’s determined to disappoint her as thoroughly as possible before they arrive in her homeland.

For a single thought now hangs in her mind’s web, squirming and struggling and stubbornly refusing to lose its breath-

You took me from the Vale, away from Lysa’s shade, away from Petyr…only to tell me tales of how charmed you were by my mother in her youth. No need, Ser Jaime…

I’ve heard them all before.

#catelyngrant #700 followers meme #my fics #jaime lannister #sansa stark #asoiaf fic

[tf-imagines]

Ok I'll just try something different then Imagine the bots from tfa meeting a black dragon (going off of d&d yes I'm that much of a nerd please don't shame me for it here's a rundown incase you don't know red=fire blue=electricity black,also called skull dragons,=acid green=poison gas) whom is a friend and surrogate older brother to Sari (sidenote in this dragons are around the size of shire horses in this not Smaug-like in proportions)

I’m not super familiar with this, but I appreciate the explanation! Hopefully this will suffice. If you’re ever unsure if I know about something or are considering it for an ask, feel free to shoot me a message to ask if it’s ok!

Optimus Prime

Sari had said something about wanting to introduce him to someone really important to her, and he was extremely curious who it might be. She hadn’t mentioned any new friends, and they already knew her father. While in this train of thought, he was caught off guard by a black dragon landing, far bigger than Sari, who immediately tried to run towards it. His first instinct was to try and shield her from it, but he watched in awe as she ran up to the lowered muzzle, hugging it happily. She quickly explained the situation to poor Optimus who was just so confused. He did his best to be respectful, only relaxing a bit later once he was sure that this dragon wasn’t a threat to Sari.

Ratchet

Ratchet did not sign up for any of this. He had heard a commotion outside the base, and went to deal with whatever was going on. “What could you POSSIBLY be doi-” he froze mid sentence when spotting the pitch black dragon, much larger than Sari. The young girl was currently climbing up said dragon’s side, looking over when Ratchet when he came out. Giving him a sheepish smile she let go to wave, squealing when that made her lose her grip and fall. Before Ratchet could get very close, the dragon quickly caught her in their claw, helping her back to the ground. It was a small relief that at least she was safe with that….creature. Sari scrambled to explain who the dragon was so Ratchet wouldn’t blow a gasket, but after the initial meeting, that was that. Ratchet simply accepted it, just shaking his head with a “I’ll never understand this planet.”

Bumblebee

Bumblebee was being pouty because Sari wasn’t spending as much time with him, and he was totally not jealous. However he did decide to go see if she was free to hang out since it was too quiet around the base for him without her. When he got to her tower he saw something flying around the top where her room was, making him panic. In his head, the only thing that can fly that’s that big is a Decepticon! What if Sari’s in trouble? He rushed inside and went up as fast as he could, blasters at the ready. “Freeze decepti-” He froze when seeing the flying thing land, realizing it wasn’t a Decepticon at all. It was organic! Sari was laughing happily sitting on the back of the dragon, but quickly panicked when seeing the blasters and waved her hands, standing up to be more visible, telling him not too shoot. Somehow she managed to even explain it all in only one breath. After that, Bumblebee thought it was really cool! There are giant flying organics? Even if the dragon’s not big compared to him, it was a giant compared to Sari! So long as it doesn’t hurt her, he’s cool with it!

Bulkhead

Bulkhead was sitting just outside the base and painting, just killing time while waiting for Sari to show up so they could hand out. He looked up when something was blocking his light, wondering if it was a sudden storm and he should get his supplies inside before the rain hits. However when seeing something land, and not far away, he stood and got his wrecking ball ready. He didn’t throw it yet though because he knows better. It was a good thing too, because next thing he knew, Sari was sliding off the side of the beast and beaming up at him like it was totally normal. He just kind of accepted it because he’s seen a lot weirder stuff at this point.

Prowl

Prowl is very skeptical at first because he know humans are small and squishy and fragile. Something of that size is likely to hurt Sari, even on accident. Not that he’s one to talk, being even taller than the dragon. He likely saw them on accident, because he is a sneaky bot and was curious who Sari was talking to outside of his room. However he had the calmest initial reaction, because Sari clearly trusts it and it was a large flying organic. He only gave himself away with a soft whisper of “Fascinating…”

#text post #imagine #transformers imagine #tfa #transformers animated #tfa imagine #transformers animated imagine #optimus prime #bumblebee #bulkhead #prowl #ratchet #tfa optimus prime #tfa bumblebee #tfa bulkhead #tfa prowl #thank you for the ask! #anyandallfiction #dragon #transformers imagines #maccadam

[gangsofolympia]

Middi gets lost in the slums

An excerpt from Gangs of Olympia

If you like this excerpt, be sure to follow @gangsofolympia

Middi trembled, clenching her fists until her fingernails dug into her palms. This was it. This time, she would really do it.

She watched from the cramped alley as the tall, slim girl negotiated with a rather emaciated young man near one of the old subway entrances. The girl scowled and shook her head as the man pleaded with her, his face coming only inches from hers.

Middi had always been good at reading lips, and the words from the girl's mouth came out crisp and clear.

Back off.

The man obeyed, backing away a bit, but still, he pleaded. The girl stared at him blankly.

"Get the fuck out of here and come back when you got some money."

It was only when the man reached out, touching the girl lightly on her shoulder, that she sprang to life, shoving him back and kicking his shin.

The howl, Middi could hear.

The man fell to the ground, clutching his leg as he lay on the dirt road. Passersby, simply walked around and stepped over him. They knew not to get involved.

The girl's face was red, now, and she stood over the man, saying a few words before spitting on the ground.

Finally, the man got to his feet and, head down, staggered away, his weak body barely seeming to hold his weight.

Now was her chance. Middi took a deep breath and stepped forward, walking, as confidently as she could, toward the scowling woman, who now smoked a cigarette as she leaned against the rusty subway gate.

Essie Essex of the Bastard Aristocrats took no notice of Middi, even as she drew near.

"Um, excuse me," Middi started. Essie took a long drag from her cigarette, not even bothering to look at the speaker. "Excuse me." Still, no answer. "Excuse--"

"You fuckin' lost?" Essie spat, turning suddenly. Middi flinched, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat.

"Um, no, I, uh--"

Essie's eyes widened as she ticked her head forward, impatient.

"You lookin' to buy?" Essie blew a stream of smoke from her nose, throwing her cigarette to the ground.

"No, I, I--"

"Then, get lost, little girl." Essie turned away once again.

Middi took another deep breath, willing her body to stop trembling, but it was no use. But she had gotten this far, she couldn't run now.

"I want to join your gang."

After a few seconds, Essie chuckled, wiping her nose with her sleeve. She turned toward Middi, looking her up and down.

"We don't recruit under seven. Come back when you're seven, kid."

Horrifed, Middi stared up at the tall girl, her words, which had been so carefully crafted beforehand, completely forgotten.

"I - I'm not a kid. I'm twenty, actually. Twenty years old."

Essie snorted.

"Uh huh, 'n' I'm fifty. Really, little girl, the fuck outta here. You're blockin' my customers."

"I," Middi started. "I'm a half-dwarf, and, and a bastard. The bastard of an aristocrat."

Essie stayed silent for a moment.

"Yeah?" She answered finally, raising an eyebrow.  

"Yes, I--"

"Then you wouldn't mind doin' this little job for me, right?" Essie's eyes glowed as she stood over the half-dwarf.

"No, not at all." Middi attempted her best smile.

"Right, then," Essie started. "I want you to go to the old temple down on Betty and 105th. Knock on the door, but make sure no one's watchin'. Ask for Stokes. Tell 'im you're pickin' up Essie's package. Here." Essie reached into her pocket, pulling out a small plastic bag. Middi took it, eying the bag questioningly.

"You give that to Stokes. Tell 'im I'm payin' 'em back for what I owe." Essie cleared her throat. "'And if you run off with that, I'll hunt you down, slit your throat, 'n' use your skull as an ashtray. Real good ashtrays human skulls make. When you're done, come back here 'n' maybe I'll take ya to the Mansion."

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

As any walk throughout this city of humans, Middi's was full of curious eyes and pointing fingers. Most she ignored, turning away from the staring babies and the glaring old women. Others whispered, and some laughed, but Middi kept her eyes forward, focused on her destination. She would do this simple job, go see Kitt Monroe, and join the Bastard Aristocrats. Then, no one would dare laugh or point at her. She would belong to the most notorius gang in Olympia.

At four and one half feet, Middi could have passed for a very short human, if only she did not possess other Marrundon features. Her head was large in proportion to the rest of her body, her cheeks round and rosy. She possessed the same transluscent skin that served as a weakness for most Marrundoc, making it difficult for her to walk out in the sun for too long, lest her skin crack and burn. But like most dwarves, she rubbed Ticthec on herself each morning, protecting her skin from any natural or artificial light.

(Middi gets the package and then is robbed)

This is what she had prepared for. It was time to prove her worth.

She may have been short, but she had the strength of the Marrundoc. She charged, tackling the thief. He grunted as his face hit the hard ground, blood flying from his nose and mouth.

"Geh ov me!" He gargled. "Geh ov!"

Middi turned the thief over, kneeling by his chest and leaning over his face. The first punch brought more blood. It spurted from his nose onto Middi's dirty blouse, which had been a crisp off-white. The second punch got his attention.

"Tay git! Tay git! Ahm zorry." The man, still on his back slipped the pouch from around his belt. "Tay git! Ahm zorry," he repeated.

"You should be!" Middi scolded. She stood, snatching the bag from the man's reach. "How dare you steal from me! I'm a Bastard Aristocrat, you know!"

The man's eyes widened at the mention of the gang.

"Ah dihn noh," he blubbered, using his arms to slowly back away. "Ah dihn noh. Won cause any moah tubble." He put a hand out in front of him. "Don tell Kih. Don tell Kih Muroh peas."

"I'll think about it," Middi growled. "You just stay on the ground 'til I'm gone, and I don't wanna see you around here ever again."

"Okay, okay." The man nodded furiously. "Ow go unce yoah gone." More blood spurted from his nose.

"Good," Middi said. She stepped forward and spat on the man for good measure and then turned, leaving Cross Row with a smile on her face, a spring in her step, and fresh blood on her knuckles.

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

Middi returned to the abandoned subway station entrance to find a crowd of people, all gathered around some central object. Some looked up, others looked down, and others both up and then down.

Staring up at the rainclouds in the sky, Middi could see nothing special. Soon her attention was drawn to laughter and the sound of splashing water. Some women in the front screamed, pushing their way out of the crowd, while others looked on disapprovingly.

"Stop that, you kids!" Middi heard the voice of a man sound out from the crowd. The kids seem to have broken whatever spell had been cast over the crowd, as the people on the edges turned and left, followed by the rest of the circle.

Now, Middi had a clear view of two boys jumping in a muddy puddle, water splashing from underneath their shoes. One boy, tired of jumping, decided to play a new game, shoving the other into the muck. The boy sat there on the ground, stunned for a few seconds, and then, his face red, stood and shoved the other boy. Soon, they both shoved each other, and shoving turned to hitting, and hitting to scratching, and scratching to pulling and biting.

"Ah!" One of the boys screamed as the other shoved his face down into the water. His legs and arms flailed helplessly as the boy sat on top of him, and bubbles rose to the surface of the puddle.

"You boys stop that right now!" An old woman hurried out to the children, swatting at the victorious one with a broom. She pulled the other from the water by his collar as he hacked and spit liquid from his nose and mouth. He stuggled to breathe between the sharp spasms of his shoulders and lungs.

The old woman took the other boy by the collar as well, dragging them both from the street.

"Wait until your father hears about this," the old woman muttered.

"No! No, Mrs. Ruz. Don't tell Papa. He'll kill us."

The nearly dead child grunted in agreement.

As for the rest of the conversation, Middi did not get the chance to hear it, as Mrs. Ruz took the children into an old brick building and slammed the door shut behind her.

With the streets back to their normal flow, Middi started to walk around the puddle to find Essie, but a small sound drew her attention back to the water, which now had small ripples along its surface, gliding outward from a central point.

She looked up, and then she looked down. Looking up again, she realized why the puddle had drawn such a crowd. The water came not from a leaking pipe or a spilled bucket, but the sky.

The others' murmurs became clear to Middi, now.

"...place will rot."

"They can't even fix a simple leak?"

"First the air filter, then the temperature regulator..."

"Won't someone do something about this?"

"...my children are sick and dying?"

No wonder Essie had left.

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

After few hours of wandering through streets and alleys, all identically filthy and run-down, and no sign of either Essie or any of the Bastard Aristocrats, Middi gave up for the day. It was getting dark.

A short conversation with a drunken man pointed her toward an inn not too far from where she was. She had no money for food or boarding, but she didn't want to sleep on the streets if she could help it.

Flashing neon lights marked the spot, shining eerily through the smoggy air. As Middi drew near, she realized that the man had pointed her not toward an inn, but a brothel.

Middi scanned the area quickly, but no other buildings gave any indication of life. Eying the girls out front, who blew kisses and threw suggestive phrases at the passing male folk, Middi took a deep breath and stepped forward.

At first the women ignored her, choosing to flirt with the men, no doubt to bait them into paying for an hour or two with them.

Middi cleared her throat.

"Um, excuse me."

The women's eyes fixed on the small half-dwarf before them.

"Lookin' for work?" One of the women said tauntingly.

"I'm looking for a place to stay. Is there an inn nearby?" Middi forced some confidence into her voice.

The two girls eyed each other and giggled.

"Plenty of beds here," the other woman said, batting her eyelashes. "And company, as well." She stepped from the porch of the wooden building, attempting to take Middi's arm. The woman smiled through crimson lips and dark, smoky eyes.

"I'm Jade," the woman purred. "And you are?"

"Middi." The half-dwarf stepped away from the courtesan's reach. "You said there's work? I can wash dishes or sweep the floors in exchange for a room for the night."

"Honey, washin' dishes will get you nowhere," Jade said. "Ain't too many places like this in the city, and this is the kind of place that men will sell their children just to get in for an hour."

"Well," Middi straightened her shoulders and held her head high. "I'm a Bastard Aristocrat, so--"

Jade chuckled, her other companion still on the porch joining in.

"Honey, what makes you think you'd get anything else but a knife in your gut walkin' around here?" Jade's teeth reflected the neon light in the darkness. "Do you even know where you are?"

"I--" Middi had to admit that she had gotten lost while looking for Essie.

"This is the Satin Petal. Best brothel in the city." Jade gave Middi a light chuckle, though it seemed to her a bit more sinister. "Over there--" she pointed toward a dark building. "Is the Stable. And next to that is the Butterfly. Over there is the Platinum Pussy, then the Demon's Nest, and over there is Red Velvet. That last one--" Jade pointed to a small doorway at the end of the road. "That is Asmodeus. Nobody goes there unless they're invited." She put her hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow.

"Come on, who are you really? You're no Bastard Aristocrat, and you shouldn't go around tellin' people that if you wanna keep your head, especially in this neighborhood." Middi opened her mouth to ask where exactly she was, but Jade read her mind. "You're in Devil's Alley, in the Reds right on the border of Inner Haughton."

Belles territory.

Middi felt her face turn hot.

"I guess I'm in the wrong place then."

Jade gave her a taunting smile.

"The wrong place to be if you're a Bastard--which you're not. Otherwise, I suppose it's the right place. Unless you don't have any money--which you don't."

Middi turned, eying the blackened streets.

"Is there anywhere safe I can go?"

"Not in the slums," Jade said. She eyed a couple of men passing by. "Look, honey, I gotta go back to work. If you want a job, go inside and talk to Mo."

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

Middi sighed in relief as she entered the building, the warm air drawing the chill from her body. Perhaps she could just sit in a corner all night and nap without being noticed. But her plan was quickly shattered as she drew the attention of a group of men sitting at a table near the entrance.

Quickening her step, Middi passed them, drawing stares from yet another table of men.

"How much are you chargin'?" A voice called after her. A few whistles sounded from far away.

She hurried to the bar, hoping that she would be able to order a simple and free glass of water. Like all things in Olympia, the bar was human-sized, with no additional seats for dwarves and the like. Though Middi stood a good foot taller than most Marrundoc, she still found herself at a disadvantage as she attempted to climb onto the barstool.

As her eyes began to water, Middi strained to push her thoughts of Billingsley Manor as far away as possible, but still, they broke through the barrier. Her memories of home, where there was a chair at the table just her size and where everything in her bedroom had been built especially for her at the right height, and not too big or small. Everything, so perfect.

But that was why she had left in the first place. Everything was so perfect, so clean, so neat. Middi had felt as though everything had turned gray. Or a crisp, boring white. She couldn't just let her life pass by without doing anything on her own.

She had come to the Immigrant District for excitement. To change herself. She didn't want to be Sweet Little Middelyn anymore. She didn't want to be a child anymore.

But why had she come here? Her father would never have let her go to a place like this, but then again, she wasn't even allowed to leave the garden without supervision.

She shook the thoughts from her mind, concentrating on the challenge before her.

Planting her hands on top of the seat and hoisting herself up, Middi expected to find her bottom resting on the stool, as was her intention. However, as she rose, the stool's legs slipped from the floor, the seat tilting toward her. With a sharp smack, Middi found herself on her back lying on the sticky ground, a heavy stool having fallen along with her. She pushed the stool away, even as the men at the bar and a few girls nearby stopped to laugh.

Middi stood and turned toward the girls who had now stopped laughing. While they wore lacy nightgowns, their lips stained red and their eyes hastily smeared with charcoal, the other woman, wearing a black leather jacket, her hair short and curled, stood out from the rest.

Middi had heard about the Belles before, one of the Bastards' rival gangs, but she did not know much about them. She was sure, though, that this woman was one of them.

The woman, her lips lined flawlessly in red and her eyebrows thin and sharp, turned toward Middi, a smile forming on her face.

Middi did not like that look. It was the same look that a wolf gives a rabbit before mercilessly devouring it with one snap of its jaws.

The strange woman beckoned her over.

As Middi approached, the woman looked her up and down, one hand on her hip, and another lightly caressing a silver pistol in its holster. The other two girls huddled against each other, standing slightly away from them. Middi glanced at them, but both looked away as soon as her gaze reached their faces.

Standing in front of the unknown woman, Middi took a deep breath, attempting to look her in the eye. She could not, however, stop herself from trembling.

"Lookin' for a job?" the woman asked. The two girls giggled, just as the other two had before.

"Um, no, I--"

"You sure?" The woman raised her painted eyebrows. "I'm thinkin' there are plenty of men out there lookin' for your type. You know, that small, innocent, helpless look. And the baby fat 'round your cheeks is perfect."

"No," Middi murmured, looking downward. "I - I just - I'm lost and--"

"Yeah, no shit hun."

Middi's gaze drew upward again at the woman's half-smile.

"What's your name?"

"Middi--"

"What, Mini? Seriously?" The woman took a step backward, slapping her knee.

Middi willed herself to think back to the scuffle she'd had only hours ago. She took down a grown man. This was just an average sized human woman. She shouldn't be scared. But still, when she looked up at her painted face and ink-black curls, Middi couldn't help but attempt to shrink down into nothing but a small speck of dust on the floor.

"No, it's--"

"Hey, 'Mini and Mo'!" The courtesan on the left laughed, drawing even more smiles from the nearby patrons. "Eeny Meeny Mini Mo!" The two girls held each other drunkenly, nearly snorting as their laughter filled the room. "Eeny Meeny Mini Mo! Eeny Meeny Mini Mo!" they chanted, noting Middi's face, which had turned a bright crimson.

"Middi! My name's Middi!" she blurted. Mo took a dramatic step backward, putting her hand on her heart. "Alright, alright. Calm down there--"

"Eeny Meeny Middi Mo! Eeny Meeny Middi Mo! Eeny Meeny Middi Mo!" the girls chanted.

"Rosette, Violet, ain't you got some customers to fuck? And Rosie, hun, you'd better meet quota tonight, or you'll find yourself sleeping outside in the dirt." The woman shooed the girls away before turning back to Middi.

"You know who I am?" she asked.

Middi shook her head, opening her mouth to answer.

"I'm Mo." The woman leaned down a bit, her face nearing Middi's. Noting the lack of recognition, Mo sighed. "I'm Mo. As in Moira Amour." Still nothing. "For shit's sake, you've never heard of me? What neighborhood are you from, anyway?" Middi hesitated. "Whatever, I don't really care where you're from." Mo waived her hand a few times, sending the scent of cheap perfume wafting through the tobacco smoke-filled air. "As long as you're not a Bastard, a Blackheart, or broke, then you're fine with me." Mo nodded thoughtfully, fidgeting with the bright pink ribbon tied around her neck. "And if you're a thief or anything, we're cool unless you steal from the Belles. 'Cause then we'd have to hunt you down, and you'd probably find yourself workin' here for real."

Mo scanned Middi up and down once more, a mischievous smirk on her face. She narrowed her eyes.

"So, what brings you here, Middi? It's not too often I see your kind around, and I don't think I've ever met a dwarf woman. Only those smuggler buffoons."

"Well, I'm a half-dwarf actually--"

Mo threw her head back, her mouth opening wide in a deafening cackle.

"So, which one fucked a dwarf? Mommy or Daddy?" Mo leaned forward, grabbing her legs as she snorted at the ground.

Middi hesitated. Of course the woman didn't actually expect her to answer that, right?

"No, no, don't answer that," Mo said between sobs. She grabbed Middi's arm, snorting once again.

Middi waited patiently, and after about fifteen seconds or so, Mo finally recovered from her laughing fit, assuming the heir of 'boss lady' once again.

"So, really. What are you doing here?" Mo put on her business face, which was, Middi had to admit, a bit intimidating.

"I - I'm looking for--" Middi stopped, shutting her mouth suddenly. She couldn't tell this woman, a member of the Belles, that she was looking for the Bastard Aristocrats. But she didn't know anyone in this part of town, did she?

A tanned and freckled face popped into Middi's head. Ebony curls and shining eyes, bright as the sun. A memory from the past.

"I'm looking for Lia. Do you know her?" Middi pursed her lips. She knew almost nothing about Lia. Not even a last name.

"Yeah, I might know her," Mo replied to Middi's surprise.

"Really? Where is she?"

Mo studied Middi over for what seemed like the twentieth time, one hand on her hip and another lightly holding her chin. Her sharp pink nails shone like claws in the shadowy light of the brothel.

"How do you know her?" Mo asked.

Middi stared up at the woman with wide eyes. What was she supposed to say? Mo sighed.

"How about this then--why are you looking for her? What do you want with her?"

"I - I - eh - I - want - uh--" Middi studdered.

"Where did you see her last? When?"

"Er--" Her voice caught in her throat.

"Then, I can't help you," Mo answered crisply. "Now, if you're not going to work or buy something, please get out of my brothel."

Mo turned on her heel.

"Wait!" Middi cried.

The woman sighed.

"What?"

It wouldn't hurt to tell this one woman the truth, right? Or maybe she should lie?

Mo had turned once again to face the half-dwarf.

"What?"

"I - I met her, Lia, at the Billingsley Manor. In Founder's Row. She worked as a maid there. Me too. We were both maids there. At Billingsley Manor." Middi could feel her muscles tensing as the fought the urge to simply turn and run from the building.

"Maids?" Mo repeated.

"Yes. At the Billingsley Manor. In Founder's Row."

"Uh huh." Mo nodded, a blank expression on her face. She said nothing for a while, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, but then her eyes lit up.  "Ah, well," she started, putting both hands on her hips. "If I put out word that you're looking for her, do you think she'd come to you?"

"Yeah," Middi said, attempting to put on her best face. "Yeah, we were really close. She was so great to me. Like a sister." She hoped it was convincing enough.

"Uh huh," Mo repeated. After another moment of silence, the woman straightened up, clapping her hands together, her long nails clicking as they made contact with each other. "Alright, well, how about this--I'll put word out that you're looking for Lia, and in the meantime--you need someplace to stay?"

Middi nodded, barely holding down the excitement building in her throat. What had she just done? Was Lia that important?

"I'll get you a room, food, girls if you want. All of that. How's that sound?"

"Great!" Middi finally let the excitement settle on her face. "But why?"

Mo gave Middi another half-smile, the wolfish aura creeping back into her features.

"Lia's a good friend of mine," she said. "I think it would be fantastic if she came here for a visit."

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

Middi attempted to rest amid the strange mix of the muffled crowd below and the rhythmic concoction of thumping, moaning, slapping, and grunting coming from the other side of either wall of her rented room.

She yawned. She wanted to sleep, but it seemed there was no peace here in the slums. Middi peeked behind a dusty curtain out the window and at the scene below. Nothing but drunken men and shady figures circling the brothel like vultures. They ruled the streets after dark.

Sitting back on the bed, Middi sighed. She let her eyes scan the wrinkled sheets and stained pillows, shuddering at the thought at what might lurk in those fibers. Perhaps it would be better to just sleep on the floor. A cockroach skittered from underneath the bed and made its way across the floorboards, disappearing into a small space in the wall.

Maybe she could just stay awake all night. Sitting on the edge of a dirty bed and staring at a crumbling wall, encircled by the cries of sad women forced into a life made to please sad men.

But the longer she sat there, still and quiet, the more the unsteady foundation on which she had built her new dream, wobbled and warped, threatening to give way at any moment.

What was she thinking? What was she doing here? Sitting in a dirty brothel in one of the worst parts of the city. Before this, she was hardly allowed to go outside. She wasn't allowed to have any friends that didn't work for her father, which meant that all of her friends had been servants and maids.

Like Lia.

Lia's image flashed into Middi's mind again. It was Lia who had started everything. She planted these thoughts into Middi's head--Sweet Little Middelyn, who, before she met Lia, had loved walks through the garden, dressing up for fancy dinners, and playing the piano for guests. She had loved how they clapped for her afterward. As if she were someone important. Someone with a special gift. Someone to look up to.

The first time Lia had convinced Middi to leave the house without her father's permission, the half-dwarf only took a few steps before running back through the door. When her father came home, she confessed her crime immediately--though, she never mentioned that Lia was involved.

The second time, Lia took Middi to the garden. They stopped in front of the roses, admiring them in silence.

"I would love some of these roses in my room," Middi had said. "Will you cut some for me?"

Lia opened her mouth, letting out her light, careless laugh, high and fluttering like a butterfly.

"Why don't you cut them?" Lia fished through her apron, emerging with a pair of scissors. "Here," she said, handing them to Middi.

The half-dwarf took a step back, looking from the scissors to the roses and then back to the scissors.

"But roses have thorns!" Middi cried. "What if I hurt myself?"

"Oh, it won't be too bad," Lia replied, folding her arms over her chest. "Not even as bad as a papercut."

Middi stared at the woman blankly. Lia frowned.

"You've never gotten a papercut before?"

Middi shook her head.

"Just cut the roses. Or don't. You're the one who wants them."

Lia had turned, sauntering away and leaving a frozen Middi in front of the rosebushes, a small pair of scissors in hand.

---

Middi's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of stomping and clapping coming from downstairs. Perking her ears, Middi listened carefully, noting the lyrics. The tune sounded familiar, but she was not sure where she had heard it before.

Well a bard went to a bar one day,

and he got a drink even though he couldn't pay

With an open tab and no gold in sight

The bard attempted a hasty flight

But he was caught by a giant man

and he said here we don't like stealin'

as the bard swiped some coins from his pouch

a green lady appeared and knocked the giant out

Buy me a drink, Mister Bard, she said

The bard obeyed, knowing that he'd be dead

If the green lady had not come along

So, he bought her a drink and then sang her a song

Oh Lady Green from the hilltops she came

Washing over the river and the dangerous plains

Let us celebrate the green lady fair

Who saved a poor bard who couldn't pay his fare

Well the bard went along, to the north he went

and camped in the forest in a small old tent

and whaddya know it started to snow

and the bard realized he couldn't feel his toes

The bard shivered and rubbed his hands

perhaps he should have brought some mittens

and the food that he'd brought to eat

he realized that it was all frozen meat

But then the green lady came along

and lit a fire with some nice dry logs

and she threw the old tent into the flare

and said lets go I'm parked right over there

Buy me a drink, Mister Bard, she said

The bard obeyed, knowing that he'd be dead

If the green lady had not come along

So, he bought her a drink and then sang her a song

Oh Lady Green from the hilltops she came

Washing over the river and the dangerous plains

Let us celebrate the green lady fair

Who saved a poor bard from hypothermia

Well the bard went along, to the south he went

And he found an old man who was trapped in a ditch

And when the man told the bard to help

the bard ran forward and got stuck in a cell

Hidden in the ground the trap had been

and now the bard was stuck with a weak old man

So he cried and he hollered as loud as he could

but around him were trees and trees are just wood

then the green lady came along with a smile

and said i'll help you but first I'll kill that crocodile

what croc? the bard said, but when he turned around

the old man had turned into a large reptile

Buy me a drink, Mister Bard, she said

The bard obeyed, knowing that he'd be dead

If the green lady had not come along

So, he bought her a drink and then sang her a song

Oh Lady Green from the hilltops she came

Washing over the river and the dangerous plains

Let us celebrate the green lady fair

Who saved a poor bard who got caught in a snare

Well the bard went along, to the east he went

But too late did he realize his money he'd spent

But off in the distance, oh what could it be?

The bard had found a money tree

As he picked the coins hanging from its branches

He didn't notice the cause of his distress

When he turned around he realized he had

been scratched by a bear who wanted him dead

Then the green lady appeared out of nowhere

And took a dagger out of her green hair

with a slash and a bash, the bear's blood flowed

Then the lady said let's go inside it is cold

Buy me a drink, Mister Bard, she said

The bard obeyed, knowing that he'd be dead

If the green lady had not come along

So, he bought her a drink and then sang her a song

Oh Lady Green from the hilltops she came

Washing over the river and the dangerous plains

Let us celebrate the green lady fair

Who saved a poor bard who was prey to a bear

Well the bard went along, to the west he went

But he didn't realize how the river bent

How do I cross this river, the bard asked himself

Then he tripped and he fell right into the swell

Down the river he tossed and he turned

Oh, how to swim, he wished he'd learned

But the green lady came and saved him again

and said, "now for that drink, my friend."

Buy me a drink, Mister Bard, she said

The bard obeyed, knowing that he'd be dead

If the green lady had not come along

So, he bought her a drink and then sang her a song

Oh Lady Green from the hilltops she came

Washing over the river and the dangerous plains

Let us celebrate the green lady fair

Who saved a poor bard from the deep river

Well the bard went along, but home he went

He realized he wasn't cut out for this shit

When he opened the door, a surprise he did see

Waiting for him at home was the Green Lady

With all of its talk about trees and green plains, Middi figured that the song had to be an old one. One from before the Great Storm.

#please read it #PLEASE #lemme know if you have any comments or questions #i'll take constructive feedback #too #thanks #gangsofolympia #middi billingsley

[cartoons-tothemoon]

Zak Storm Origins Part 1 Live-Blog:

Hello!  The Miraculous Ladybug PV Discord recommended the show heavily as a better alternative to ML when it comes to certain writing things that get on our nerves, so they recommended Zak Storm, and now I am watching it. Such is life.

I’ll put all my commentary in stuff in the “read below” section, so I don’t clog up your dash if you don’t want to see it. Have a nice day!

- First things first, I want you to know that the only things I know about Zak Storm is that it’s about a brown haired pirate kid and the Bermuda Triangle. That’s it. I’ve skimmed some of the post edorazzi does about Zak Storm, but I really mean that I skimmed it. I’m going into this effectively blind, so, this should be interesting for all of us.

ORIGINS PART 1:

- The theme song is very radical, I guess. Nothing makes sense, but the theme music’s cool.

- Man of Action, as mentioned in the theme song, is the company that created Ben Ten, of course, my memory’s pretty bad, so I could be wrong.

- Panning over the background for ambience’s sake. There’s surfboards, a tiki head, a globe, a starfish, some fishing wire in a cabinet, a swordfish, a sea shell, etc. It’s very nautical themed but, then again, I don’t know what I expected from a show about pirates.

- The man fiddling with the radio appears to be Zak’s father/uncle/general caregiver, and seems to have a degree. The font is too small and blurry to make out, but I suppose it implies that he’s not the bumbling fool that the Hawaiian-styled shirt implies.

- A map and an eel-head. Huh.

- He SNEAKS. *Knocks over a bunch of stuff as he attempts to escape the scene of his crime.* He attempts to SNEAK.

- Classic beleaguered father figure and classic probably cursed necklace. Considering Zak knows of the necklace, as well as its existence, it’s probably not that bad though.

- Wow. I can’t believe ZAG actually put in the time and effort to actually animate water here. On one hand, it’s necessary, but on the other hand, in Miraculous Ladybug, literally nobody ever cried until Syrena. It was just weird sniffling. I got distracted, bottomline, good job for doing the absolute bare minimum here, Zag.

- How confident is this Zak kid that he can surf while listening to music and playing on his phone? What a guy.

- AND he’s on a webcam. Wow.

- His English voice sounds kinda cute, though, in an Ash Ketchum kind of way.

- He’s literally just the protagonist in a JRPG game. So, yeah, Ash Ketchum. “Pressure? What’s that?”

- His dad/uncle/care-giver’s head looks really small in comparison to his body, but that’s more of a “my opinion” kind of thing, given how relatively realistic ZAG tries to keep the proportions.

- Wow, those storm clouds appeared really quickly.

- Was the whole storm thing mentioned on the radio earlier? I wasn’t really listening.

- “Take off the necklace” is the necklace the one thing that’s keeping him from capsizing or on the board or? Otherwise, why would Zak grab it?

- I’m barely 2 minutes in. Sorry for this effectively frame-by-frame analysis, but in my defense...I’ve never done this before.

- “How do we make those dark storm clouds shrouding our protagonist in disappointment more ominous?” “I dunno, man, a skull?” “Genius.” 

- Storm family magic. I knew it. 

- A potentially tragic misunderstanding is going on here. 

- Whoops. I guess I expected the dad/uncle/care-giver figure to be more emotionally distraught over potentially losing his son to a mystical portal forever, but...We barely know them and he clearly knows the necklace, so, he may...Be fine?

- Never mind. He’s probably not fine. Also, why is he not more panicked to be surfing around lightning? Probably shock.

- Cool water animation, though.

- Zak, I haven’t really grown emotionally attached to you yet, and I want to like you, but please stop with the dumb slang. 

- Huh, so it was his dad, after all.

- On one hand, the whole “I must be dreaming thing” is very cliche, on the other hand, I feel bad for this small child who’s abandoned in the middle of the ocean with only a webcam, surfboard, and dumb necklace and crying out for his dad, that I’ll let it slide.

- Green and red, the most insidious colors imaginable. At least it isn’t red and black.

- This green skull guy looks almost 2D animated in the first shot, which is not a bad look.

- I like that boat design for that golden skull guy, at least, a lot more than what looks like Zak’s ship, but I suppose he’s supposed to have that generic pirate look.

- Never mind. It’s less generic than I thought it would be.

- He’s still going along with the nightmare idea, He’s in shock, He’s trying his best, I remind myself.

- Yay! Tiny British ghost friend! Also, who are you calling him small? The ghost friend looks to be a child.

- Scratch that. Tiny, maybe British, astral-projecting spirit friend who’s bad at jokes.

- Cool name for a boat, but aren’t boats usually called she's? Eh, whatever.

- Wow, already trying to escape. 2 minutes with tiny spirit friend who’s name...Hopefully hasn’t been mentioned yet because it shows how well I can pay attention to the forest, and you’re already trying to abandon him.

- “Eye of Peru,” just where does this take place? It’s clearly not in some weird alternate fantasy world if countries from our world exist.

- Clovis. That’s the tiny British spirit friend. I have no strong feelings about him whatsoever.

- Okay, seriously though, Goldenbone’s voice is very cool sounding. Just very classically threatening. It’s kinda like Slade with a bit more energy put into it, but I’m not sure if that statement is right.

- Zak has such dumb sneakers I love him.

- Wow, actual guns. Those look like legitimate pistol designs, but they shoot laser beams. We had to get them through the censors somehow, I guess.

- I think this is the first time I’ve seen a hook hand actually used for something useful outside of just looking cool and threatening.

- “You have a salty spirt, boy.” Dang, who’s Zak vagueing about now.

- Please don’t say good boy. That’s a very cursed phrase if you aren’t talking about an aging labrador.

- I love how Clovis just low-key called him an idiot. Zak really is just a JRPG protagonist, all shiny and dumb and easy to trick, but it would be bold of you to assume that I don’t love him for it.

- Also! Bermuda Triangle! One of the only things I knew about the series has at last been integrated.

- “Let me talk to him.” Why? Why would background skeleton #423 actually suggest this? Does he think he’s special? Because he’s going to have a bad time looking into that mirror and seeing everybody he’s ever known there.

- Why is the Bermuda Triangle just a myth or a legend in this world? It’s a region in our world that’s known for its ship disappearances, it’s not entirely explained, but it’s not like it’s the jersey devil or anything.

- “Surf rat and internet wannabe.” Well, at least he’s honest.

- Clovis confirmed for ectoplasmic whatever, but is also totally a poltergeist.

- 13:55-14:20...Sigh.

- So, does Goldenbone being dead allow him to touch both corporeal and non-corporeal beings, or is Clovis constantly tangible but also not?

- Oh never mind this was actually explained.

- Yes, Zak. Listen to your strange magical heirloom here for once.

- You know what’s worse than a sword? A talking sword.

- Ah, yes, the classic ZAG transformation sequence. This totally won’t happen every single episode to add run-time and repeat animation.

- You’d also think he’d be used to this by now, or just completely out of it given everything that’s been happening.

- I wish they did more animation with the fire, but that’s really a nit-pick.

- What’s up with Clovis just...Continually doing peace signs. Does he not know what else. he can do with his hands.

Conclusion: Zak is dumb but I love him. Golden bones is evil but trying his best here. Clovis is also there. Why does he have a cockney accent. Good show. 7/10.

#me #live blogging #live blog tag #zak storm

[paladin-andric]

Hearts of Gold (Part 2)

Part 1

Saalim looked up as Eutropius came, descending from the night sky. At first he was hard to see, but his silhouette shot past the occasional cloud and star in the sky.

As the dragon got closer, his golden scales occasionally reflected bits of light, signalling that it was indeed Eutropius. The dragon finally landed, right next to Saalim as he sat on his bedroll. The dragon’s brilliant golden scales glittered and sparkled with the light of the massive bonfire the two had made earlier in the day.

Saalim looked up at the dragon and smiled, his feet stretched out and his hands clasped together. “Ah, welcome back. I trust you found what you were looking for?”

Eutropius nodded deeply, offering the reptilian a grin. “Indeed...I have something for you.”

The reptilian’s eyes widened. “Oh?”

The dragon held up a claw. At the end of the massive instrument of death...a small pendant sat chained to the claw.

“For you, my friend.”

Saalim stood up, moving forward and slowly sliding the pendant off of the dragon’s claw. He held it with both hands, stretching out the chain and gazing at it.

The pendant was made of brilliant, glittering gold...just like Eutropius. In the center of the marvelously crafted golden disk, a shining star was masterfully engraved into the material. Around it in a circle, were three words in a language Saalim didn’t understand.

The paladin swallowed as he gazed at the jewelry in awe.

“Well?” Eutropius asked, looking a tad nervous.

“It’s...it’s beautiful,” Saalim said breathlessly. Eutropius looked ecstatic.

“Oh, I knew you would fancy it!”

The reptilian held up the pendant, pointing at the center. “What do these words mean?”

The dragon grinned excitedly. “They are in the old tongue! The ancient words of dragons and magic!”

He quickly reached down, carefully pointing at the first word on the left. “Saalim...” The dragon moved his claw to the right. “Eutropius...” Finally, and after a brief pause, he moved his claw over the final word at the bottom.

“...kin.”

The lizardman audibly gasped, holding the pendant close against his chest. Eutropius merely offered him a warm smile.

“I...Eutropius, I’ll...I’ll treasure this to the day I die.”

“You have not heard the best part!” The dragon said, still excited, “I know how you are always seeking out demons and corruption. I had a mighty sorcerer imbue it with a powerful charm!”

“An enchantment...”

“Yes!” Eutropius replied, “This pendant...it drinks up corruption in your stead!”

“It...what?”

The dragon tapped the pendant lightly. “It seeks out any corruption around it, and stores it within! The magic holds it safely to be bled out later! It will protect you against your wicked foes!”

Saalim wiped at his eyes. “Dear Eutropius...how lucky I am to have such a wonderful friend!”

The dragon smiled. “You are as lucky as I, good Saalim. Bless you.”

The lizard played the memories through his mind as he warped through space. He would be victorious...no matter the cost. No matter what sacrifices needed to be made...Eutropius was walking out of that portal.

Saalim gazed in a mixture of fascination and horror at the scene before him. He was in what he assumed was some kind of hall, massive in scale, as to fit the proportions of the enormous portal he had just walked through.

The walls, the floor, and the ceiling all had some kind of runes and etches on them Saalim didn’t understand. The solid stone structures all had cracks running through them, and were tainted a deep, blood red.

Everything here was tainted red, actually. Even the air itself had a misty, red fog lightly obscuring the paladin’s vision.

What really gave the reptilian pause, however, were two things: The skulls, and the bodies.

The portal was supported by a massive pile of skulls. It was several feet down to the floor from the portal entrance. Saalim shivered as he noticed they appeared to be mostly human in origin.

Ahead of him, corpses of twisted creatures and foul demons littered the hallway, mangled, gored and crushed.

That part must have been Eutropius’ handiwork.

The paladin gathered his courage and slowly stepped down from the pile of skulls. He grimaced as felt the bones snap and move under his feet. The reptilian thought about the meaning of it all. Were the skulls part of some ritual, an unholy offering needed to give the portal life?

Saalim sighed as he finally reached the bottom of the pile, his feet hitting the stone floor. Quickly, he moved ahead, stepping over the corpses of the demons.

There were so many. There were points in the hallway that they were so numerous and clustered that he had to walk on top of them.

Of course, he’s so powerful, they never stood a chance...perhaps he’s still holding on? He’s always been a strong and determined one.

The paladin nodded to himself, mentally telling himself that everything was going to be okay. The dragon may have been exposed to corruption, but he was probably still sane. He would simply find him, let him know he had bought the kingdom enough time, and leave with his friend.

As he continued his march through the piles of corpses, Saalim noticed an opening up ahead. He began moving more quickly, taking long strides as he rushed to get out of this cavern of death.

Coming to the exit, the paladin stepped outside into...

He wasn’t sure what to even call it.

The ground was a deep onyx black, made of dry, cracked soil. The sky was blood red, of course. And all around him...

Hundreds-no...THOUSANDS of dead.

The sea of corpses were all demonic, at least from what Saalim could tell from a brief look. He soaked it in. Bodies...everywhere.

“The golden dragon...what legendary might...how in the world...?” Even he was amazed at the sheer numbers the dragon had held back. So many had fallen...how many more were out there?

Saalim slowly began wading through the demons, stepping slowly as he made his way further into the field. Ahead of him, he could see a hill, blocking his vision.

Finally making his way through the bodies, Saalim found his feet on land once more as he began scaling the hill.

Marching up, the paladin took a moment to stop, open his canteen, and take a deep swig of water. It was so hot here, hotter than the deserts of his homeland...and the exertion wasn’t helping.

Soldiering on, the lizard finally crested the hill. On the other side...

“No...”

More corpses. Many more demons had fallen. Only this time...there was a figure among the sea of death. A dragon, facing away from the warrior. Its scales were a jet black, dark mists of corruption poured off of it.”

“No, no no no no no no no no no no no no...”

The lizard moved the down the hill, tears in his eyes.

“It CAN’T be!”

Muttering to himself, the paladin froze as the beast, seeming to hear him, slowly turned.

The dragon’s face was wrapped in shadows of darkness and corruption. Horns twisted and menacing. Eyes a pure, milky white with no pupils. The massive beast slowly grinned, blackness dripping from its maw.

“Prey...”

Saalim could feel his heart nearly shatter as he gazed at Eutropius.

“Dear friend...”

A deep, menacing laugh shook the paladin.

“Warrior of light...you are a fool to come here...the darkness shall consume you!“

Saalim let his tears flow freely, dripping from his muzzle as his hands balled up into fists.

“Dearest Eutropius...I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I shall turn you into a demon slave! I shall make you feel hatred for your pathetic slave-god and his worthless morals! I SHALL BOIL THE WORLD IN A SEA OF CORRUPTION!” The demon-dragon roared. He approached the paladin, malice in his wicked grin.

“You leave me no choice...my friend...please...forgive me...” Saalim slowly reached back and unsheathed his greatsword, the weapon nearly singing as it slid out of its scabbard. “...I must do this...”

The dragon reached the paladin and slowly lowered his head until his face was mere inches from the warrior, maniacal grin still plastered on his face. “I could end your pathetic life the blink of an eye, mortal!”

The dragon did nothing, the two of them standing off as time passed.

“Whatever is the matter,” the dragon said mockingly, “Why have you not upheld your faith, slave? Why have you not done what is necessary to save your precious world?”

Saalim tensed up, holding his greatsword in a death-grip. He offered nothing, and made no movements.

“I know why,” the dragon offered, slowly beginning to circle around him, “I can see it your eyes. Your movements. Everything you do. I know why you cannot harm me.” Saalim flinched as the dragon moved his face forward, nearly touching the lizard’s own.

“You do not have the stomach for it.”

The statement shook Saalim to his very core. He was right. He could never harm the dragon, even fallen to the demons. He meant too much to him.

As Saalim wavered from the realization, grip on his sword loosening, Eutropius capitalized on the moment of weakness. He rushed forward, knocking the holy warrior to the ground. His greatsword was knocked the side, clattering to the ground, too far to be reached.

Not that it would help, in this case.

Saalim looked up at the dragon towering over him in fear. He held the lizard in his claws, keeping him immobile. His face was one of glee.

“Excellent! Bless your foolishness, paladin! Now, I have you right where I want you. Soon, you will understand to hate the light, hate weakness and all things ‘good’, and then...we shall be together once again.”

Eutropius’ face changed, if only for a moment. The malice melted away from his grin. His tone softened. For a brief moment...his happiness was genuine. As far as he had fallen, as black as his thoughts and desires now were...Saalim still held a special place in his heart. He still wanted to be with his dear friend...even if the corruption had perverted the context.

The dragon licked his chops, as if gazing upon a meal. “Now...let us begin! I cannot wait to see you improved.”

With that, the demonic dragon began willing forth corruption from deep within himself, the unholy influence transferring from him to the paladin. At the same time, he began casting antimagic, blocking the holy warrior from using magic to retaliate or escape.

Physically restrained, and magically locked down, Saalim could only close his eyes and begin praying as the corruption reached him.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes, confused. Nothing was happening. Why was that?

Suddenly, it hit him.

The pendant.

Oh, Eutropius, the lizard thought to himself, even a demon, you still protect me.

The pendant soaked up the corruption like a sponge, taking everything the massive dragon was throwing at the paladin.

Eutropius looked surprised for a moment before he grinned once more. “Ahh, that little trinket...do not worry your head with foolish thoughts of persevering, little one...I have more than enough darkness within me to shatter that worthless necklace forever.”

“No...” Saalim whimpered.

The dragon laughed. “Ahh, finally realized your situation? Wonderful. I do like to see my prey struggle.”

“No,” Saalim whispered, “Don’t destroy it...it...it was...it is yours, Eutropius.”

The dragon nearly froze, corruption slowing as he gazed down at the lizard.

“Saalim...Eutropius...kin.”

Eutropius was silent for a moment, rumbling deeply. Had he done it? Had he broken through to his old friend?

The dragon dashed his hopes with a grin. “Ahh...you treasure it because of its memories, not its magic? Do not worry, friend...I will break the spell in it, and leave it intact. I will make it into something better, more useful...as I will do to you.”

With that, the dragon doubled his efforts, flooding the amulet with corruption. The massive beast was an ocean of corruption, and his reserves seemed nearly limitless.

Suddenly, absolute terror washed over Saalim as he heard the noise of metal snapping.

The pendant had broken.

In only a brief moment, alien thoughts began flooding Saalim’s mind. Thoughts of cruelty, envy, malice, lust and hatred.

He resisted the thoughts, but they only dug themselves deeper into him as time went on, becoming less thoughts alien to him and more urges and temptations of his own.

He gasped and moaned as the corruption filled him. He could feel everything that he was slipping away, his primal instincts becoming darker and darker as being good became less familiar to him.

“We will march through the Abinsil Kingdom, my friend! We will topple the false gods and show them all the power of the demons! We will rule them like slaves! It will be glorious!”

The paladin tried to ignore the dragon’s words, but...oh God, that did sound glorious...wait, no! He was a servant of God! He would never...!

The internal struggle continued, Saalim’s thoughts becoming frenzied and hateful. The dragon was supposed to be his friend, yet here he was turning him into a monster! How could he?! He never should have come to save him!

“Damn you! Damn you! Damn you, Eutropius! A thousand deaths upon you! I hate you!”

The dragon grinned. “Yes, YES! Let the hatred out! Let it consume you!”

Saalim struggled against his new urges, being calm and loving feeling unnatural. He knew the dragon was trying to use his new emotions to tempt him, so the only way he could make it through this was to force himself to love the dragon...

The lizard thought back to the old days, traveling with his dear friend, resting together, talking and laughing under the sun...but the corruption perverted his thoughts. All of these good times, these memories...the betrayal was so much more hurtful! They truly cared for one another, and yet the dragon had stabbed him in the back!

Saalim tried to block out the hate, knowing full well he was playing into the dragon’s hands...but he couldn’t. He gazed up at Eutropius, the pain of betrayal apparent in his eyes.

“I thought we were friends.”

“Oh little child, we are. You just need to...reevaluate your outlook, is all.”

Saalim felt new thoughts enter his mind. Hatred was firmly embedded, now the corruption filled him with disgust. He was weak, that was the only reason this was happening! Weakness is to be loathed. Only the strong survive. Now, he knew...

Slowly, his mind shifted, becoming more and more dark and wicked. At one point, he realized the shift. He shouldn’t think these foul thoughts, a righteous, holy man would never think them...only...was he even righteous anymore?

He felt the corruption begin changing him. His outward appearance was shifting...not that he could tell, locked under the dragon’s claws. The claws on his hands and feet grew, that much he could tell...he felt himself swell a bit in size, becoming more uncomfortable in the dragon’s grasp, and his own clothes as they went from a comfortable fit to a tight fit.

Further, his mind fell. He brooded on dark and unholy things, even recoiling in disgust as a stray prayer crossed his mind. More darkness filled him, more demonic he became...

Suddenly, it stopped. The dragon raised his claw.

Something was very different.

Eutropius was no longer wrapped in mist and shadows. His scales were indeed dark and warped, but bare, and...there were a few stray golden scales. The dragon looked at him, appearing exhausted.

“We,” the dragon huffed, “We...we shall...continue this...at a later time.”

Saalim stood up, glancing down at himself. His body strained against his now ill-fitting clothes, his claws were long, dark and jagged...and his scales...they were deep red, rather than the bright green they once were.

These changes would have terrified him...if he was the man he once was. Instead, he felt a twinge of excitement. He looked and felt much mightier! This new form would serve him well.

“Marvelous...is it not? You...will become...even mightier...in time.”

Saalim glanced over at the dragon, eyes narrowing. If he looked less corrupted, and Saalim had become more corrupted...

Realization struck him. The dragon had used his very own corruption to twist him into his new self!

A voice cried out in Saalim’s head, reminding him of his mission, of who he really was.

The lizard clutched his head, thoughts jumbled. The voice was right, this was wrong, this was so very wrong...and yet...it felt GOOD.

“Vestiges...of resistance? You are...strong of will...indeed...after next time...you will finally...accept who you really are.”

The tired, wobbling dragon was drained, weak...this could be used to his advantage. The once-paladin looked at the dragon, a glimmer of gold cutting through the sea of black.

And he remembered.

Saalim knew what he had set out to do, and he WOULD do it. This was his one shot.

God, the lizard said in his mind, forgive my moments of weakness, my foul thoughts. Do not revoke your blessings from me, please...I have need of them, I can save him with them...

Slowly, the reptilian raised his hands, beginning to use the purification ritual to remove the corruption from Eutropius. He knew he was nowhere near strong enough to destroy the corruption. Even nearly drained of it, the dragon still had too much.

There was a way, though. One final, desperate gambit.

The dragon gasped as he felt the purity begin to tear the corruption from him.

“W-What?! How are you...?“

Saalim took a deep breath as he took the corruption...and willed it straight into him.

He couldn’t burn away the corruption...but he could redirect it.

No matter what sacrifices needed to be made...Eutropius was walking out of that portal.

Saalim felt tears in his eyes once more as everything he held dear began to disgust him. His old personality was burning away, replaced with vile cruelty.

But it had to be done.

“S-Saalim...” The dragon groaned. “W-What are you...?”

The paladin continued.

“Saalim...

The lizard ignored him, growing weak and tired.

“Stop...”

The lizard pushed on, soaking up as much corruption he could. This overuse of powerful magic was taking its toll. Along with the corruption, exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him.

“Saalim...I remember now...you can stop...I can resist now...”

“Silence...you wretch...” the lizard whispered, willing himself on.

Finally, he reached his limit. Boiling with corruption, his mind a malestrom of discord and wickedness, Saalim collapsed, overburdened both physically and mentally.

Eutropius shook his head. The dark voices, the vile urges...they had melted away. He took a moment to look down at himself.

His body was now gleaming golden, not a speck of blackness in sight.

The paladin had saved him...the paladin!

“S-Saalim!” The dragon rushed to his side. His friend was coated in a dark mist, corruption pouring out of him in excess as he overfilled himself with it.

“No...no, Saalim! This cannot be your fate!” The dragon looked back to the hill, where he had come from. He shouldn’t abandon his post, but...

Eutropius grabbed the small warrior carefully, gripping him loosely. “Do not worry, Saalim! I will bring you home! The priests can purge you!”

The dragon flapped his wings and launched into the red sky, soaring towards the cavern. Soon, he lowered himself to the floor as his wingspan was too wide for it. Though massive to the paladin, to him it was cramped and narrow. He couldn’t hold the man and walk at the same time...

Eutropius, exercising extreme caution, slowly opened his mouth and placed Saalim inside, careful not to swallow him or crush him between his teeth. He moved forward, portal in sight...

Suddenly, the red fog in between the arches of the portal began to thin out. The link between the world and hell was weakening.

No...no! They’re closing the portal!

In a desperate bid, Eutropius cast a fortifying magical spell on the portal, strengthening its connection between the worlds, fighting against the magic and holy mens’ combined efforts.

I will not let them strand you here, dearest friend! You will not fall to darkness...I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!

Eutropius rushed forward like a bull, in a mad dash to reach the portal before it closed for good. As he approached, it thinned, more and more, nearly gone...

Closing his eyes, Eutropius threw himself upon the portal.

Saalim groaned, pain and exhaustion flooding him. For a few moments, he couldn’t even open his eyes.

He heard a voice, though it was distant. Willing himself up, the lizard slowly sat up, opening his eyes and rubbing his head.

“W-What...?”

Glancing around, he was surrounded by a crowd. In it, soldiers, priests, clerics, wizards and others all stood. Their expressions varied, some looking relieved, while others appeared nervous.

The captain from before approached him. “Saalim...how do you feel?”

He thought about that for a moment. Before he had collapsed, he had become a wicked and vile man. He only pursued his goal out of a selfish desire to win, but...those urges were gone now. He felt himself again.

The lizard winced. “Everything hurts...”

The captain shrugged. “It’s a miracle you’re...yourself. Your very soul was pulsing with demonic influence when you came out of the portal...you should thank the priests and sorcerers, paladin.”

The portal...the portal!

“E- Eutropius!” Saalim cried, “Eutropius! Where is he?! Tell me he made it! Please!”

“Dear friend.”

Saalim whipped around.

There he was. The golden scales. The gentle smile. The soft voice.

“Eutropius...oh God, thank God. You’re okay.”

The dragon’s eyes became misty. “Dearest Saalim...I thought...I had lost you.” The dragon lowered his head as the reptilian approached, placing a hand on the giant beast.

“You saved me again...”

“We saved eachother, Saalim.“

The two held like this for some time, tears pouring down their faces as they gazed at one another. Slowly, Saalim reached into his armor and fished out the pendant. The golden trinket was snapped down the middle.

“Your gift broke...”

The dragon laughed, relieved. “A trifling matter, dear Saalim...I can have it repaired...you are what is most valuable, not some hunk of gold.”

The reptilian smiled. “I hardly deserve a comrade such as you.”

The golden dragon shook his head. “Dearest Saalim…you are my friend...and that is the way it always will be.”

Eutropius moved his head closer.

“Now and forever.”

That was...an experience. I think it was really powerful, but you tell me!

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @the-true-shadowmaster, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadhorner

[master-sass-blast]

Strong as Stone --Part Twenty-Seven

*crawls out of the week* Oof. I’m tired.

Welcome back to the madhouse! This is your resident goblin speaking, here to update you on some news for Strong as Stone!

First: After taking some time and consideration, I’ve decided that this is the last update where we’ll be seeing Trump. I know that he’s wearing on some of you, and he’s wearing on me too, so this is his last hurrah. After this chapter, there’ll be a mention of his impeachment (necessary for some upcoming plot stuff) and then that’ll be it. (Warning: He goes out with a bang. This is Trump, after all.)

Second: After this update, we’re going to take some time for the some serious F L U F F. After a wonderful little plot powwow with @ginghampearlsnsweettea (idk why Tumblr won’t let me tag you :P), I realized that I was going ham on the political blech and the angst. So, yeah. Fluff break coming up. PREPARE YOURSELVES!!!

Third: I actually need your guys’s help for this bit. I do have kids planned for Okoye and M’Baku in the future, but I don’t know how many to give them. I come from a small family, and I tend to lean on what I know, but I’m curious to know what you guys think is a good number. Tell me what you think in my asks, dms, or my inbox on AO3.

Okay, onto the main stuff:

Last time, we saw hints of HYRDA’s involvement in stealing vibranium from Wakanda. Fortunately for our favorite General, the intrepid Agent Everett Ross is on the case. Unfortunately for him, it looks like his brother --General Thaddeus Ross--is involved somehow.

This time, I experimented with a new style of writing. Instead of having Okoye do all the narrating/having the narrator narrate from her perspective, we’re getting glimpses at what O’Chenga, Ayo, Aneka, and M’Baku have been dealing with during a dinner/hang out with the couples (M’Baku and Okoye and Ayo, Aneka, and O’Chenga).

Rating: M for political blech, Trump being Trump, and strong/misogynistic language.

Pairings: M’Baku x Okoye and Ayo x Aneka x OC.

@the-last-hair-bender, @skysynclair19

As constant as your struggles may seem, make sure you take time to support your friends and hear their frustrations as well.

Many of us often travel the same current in the river and share many of the same struggles. We ought to take care to not forget it.

“This has been a long time overdue.”

“Agreed.” Okoye smiled as she flipped over a few steaks on a large skillet. “I can’t wait to hear everything we’ve missed with the festival work and the missions.”

O’Chenga and M’Baku exchanged a long, exasperated look before M’Baku went back to dicing up several large potatoes and O’Chenga went back to prepping legumes, vegetables, and greens for the main vegetarian dish. “I wish there was something light hearted to report,” O’Chenga started as he chopped up a large eggplant. “Unfortunately...”

<<<

“Nephew. I would speak with you.”

O’Chenga grimaced as he watched Elder F’Tendi sweep into the throne room of the Great Lodge as though he was the Chief and his nephew, M’Baku, were his subordinate. Hanuman, what fuels this man? It can’t be common sense, since he clearly forwent that long ago. “I would advise you to address your Chief with due courtesy, Elder F’Tendi. This is not your throne room you step foot in.”

F’Tendi stopped to eye him coldly, then bowed slowly, mockingly. “My Chief. May I council with you?”

“And what if I say no?” M’Baku asked, cocking his head to the side.

“It would be in your interests to not. I am here to speak with you about Dewani.”

“Escort him out,” M’Baku said without hesitation.

O’Chenga smirked as he watched the guards move in to usher F’Tendi away from his friend. Serves you right.

“I hope you know what kind of company she keeps. There are rumors that she’s been caught associating with the Wild Ones.”

M’Baku lurched forward, snarling through tightly clenched teeth. “I will hear no more of your baseless accusations!”

O’Chenga leaped forward, catching his friend’s shoulder with one hand and motioning to the guards with the other. “Escort him out. Now!”

>>>

Okoye frowned. “Wait. Wild Ones? I don’t think I’ve heard of them before.”

“They are a... dark cult in the Jabari tribe. They worship the demon Ravana, one of Hanuman’s enemies,” M’Baku said with a scowl.

And F’Tendi is trying accuse Dewani of associating them to discredit her before the trial for his abuse starts, Okoye surmised. Wonderful. “Well, at least there can’t be any validity to the claim. Honestly, why would he even try to swing that far?” She froze when M’Baku didn’t immediately affirm her assertions. Bast, no. “Is there validity to his claims?”

M’Baku sucked a breath through his teeth. “It’s... complicated.”

<<<

M’Baku pinched the bridge of his nose. Hanuman, give me patience. “Dewani, you realize how this looks, right?”

His baby sister rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m not an idiot, M’Baku! I know this looks bad.”

As soon as his uncle had left the lodge, he’d immediately taken O’Chenga and tracked down his sister. There might not be laws against homosexuality, but there were laws against associating with the cult of Ravana. M’Baku’s uncle had incredible sway with the traditionalists of the tribe, who were already wary of Dewani because of her liberal views and relationship with Princess Shuri. The last thing his sister needed was a legitimate chink in her armor.

But this? This was arguably worse.

“So, you admit to having ventured into the cult’s territory, and you refuse to tell us why?” O’Chenga repeated, confusion evident in his tone and expression.

“I was visiting a friend,” Dewani said, waving her hand dismissively.

M’Baku groaned and rubbed his temples. Hanuman, give me the strength to not whack my sister upside the back of her thick head. “Dewani, I need you to take this seriously. F’Tendi could legitimately have you banished from the tribe on these grounds alone, and there would be nothing I could do to stop him!”

“Trust me, I am taking this seriously!”

“No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am!”

M’Baku forced himself to take a deep breath. When you agreed to raise her, that meant raising her through everything, including moments like this. Be patient. Seek to understand, not to be understood. “Okay, then I’m not seeing it. Help me understand how you’re taking this seriously.”

Dewani shrugged as she flounced away, evidently done with the conversation. “When the time comes, you’ll see it.”

M’Baku gave into petty temptation and smacked the palm of his hand against his forehead. Hanuman dammit.

>>>

Okoye grimaced as she put the steaks on a plate to rest and covered them with foil to keep them warm. That’s about as disastrous as it gets. “She wouldn’t even give you an answer?”

“No! She refused to reveal anything.”

“Which is highly unlike Dewani,” O’Chenga added as he stirred a mixture of eggplant, legumes, sweet potatoes, leafy greens, and goat’s cheese in a skillet.

Okoye nodded, well aware of the teenager’s reputation for boldness and zeal. “No kidding. Were you able to get any hint as to what she was doing in the cult territory?”

“No.” M’Baku’s mouth twisted into a troubled frown. “I can’t fathom that she was actually worshiping demons; Dewani is a devoted follower of Hanuman, and I think she’d sooner die than tarnish Olufemi’s legacy as a priestess. Unfortunately, I doubt it will matter in the eyes of the traditionalists.”

“She’ll be guilty by association,” Okoye concluded. She sucked a breath through her teeth and placed a comforting kiss on her lover’s shoulder. “Do you want me to try and talk to her?”

“You’re welcome to try, but I doubt you’ll get anything out of her.”

O’Chenga shook his head as he added some minced garlic and sea salt to the vegetable mixture. “You definitely won’t.” He grinned jovially after a moment and nodded his head in M’Baku’s direction. “She’s his sister, after all. Their skulls are the same thickness.”

M’Baku shook his head as everyone else laughed. “My friend, the comedian.”

O’Chenga bowed halfway as he transferred the vegetable mixture into a bowl. “I’m here all night. How’s the lawsuit going?”

Okoye rolled her eyes as Ayo and Aneka groaned. “Well, I wasn’t in the United States when this happened, but I think the incident speaks for the situation quite nicely.”

<<<

“Ayo! Ayo! Get your ass out here!”

Ayo smirked as her girlfriend called for her from the bedroom. She’s so cute when she’s impatient. “Calm your tits.”

“I will not! It’s the President! He’s commenting on Okoye’s lawsuit!”

Ayo practically sprinted out of the bathroom, still wrapped in the towel she’d used to dry off after her shower. “Wait, what?”

Aneka was sitting on the edge of the bed, remote in hand and dressed in her pajamas and a scowl. She was glaring at the image of the man in charge of running the United States on their flat screen TV. “They gave a preview before the commercial break. You’re not going to believe this.”

“Frankly, I think it’s unfathomably unjust of the Wakandans to promote this kind of hatred towards the leader of another country,” Trump said in a recording from a press conference. “I fail to understand how they could’ve blown such a minor misunderstanding so far out of proportion.”

Ayo’s jaw dropped. Minor misunderstanding? I was there! He hit my best friend on the ass! What’s there to misunderstand?

“This kind of behavior is going to be the end of the world. Before you know it, we won’t be able to brush shoulders with women without them crying ‘rape!’ The Wakandans are complicit in the disenfranchisement of men everywhere, and I won’t stand for it!”

“Is this scripted?” Aneka asked, brow furrowing. “He’s using multi-syllabic words, and I can’t fathom that he actually knows any on his own.”

It doesn’t matter, Ayo thought as she watched the pitiful excuse for a man gesture stupidly with his hands. This is a nightmare.

“This lawsuit is nothing but a scam being pushed by a government held down by women, and I’m not going to let them take America down with them!”

Ayo sank down onto the mattress next to her girlfriend. This can’t be real. Someone’s going to stop him.

“I won’t be paying any ‘damages!’ America won’t be paying any damages!”

Aneka gripped onto Ayo’s hand.

Ayo clenched her girlfriend’s hand back just as tightly.

“Instead, Wakanda is going to be paying damages to us! The damages for with-holding vibranium, and the damages for trying to start an anti-male campaign to further their own agendas against the free world! You have my word as the President, I’m not going to let anyone fuck with America!”

Ayo realized Aneka was shaking and put her arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders. “It’s okay.”

“We’re a great country--”

“He’s an idiot; don’t let him get to you.”

--and we’ll always be a great country!”

Ayo grimaced at the sight of a single tear tracing it’s way down Aneka’s cheek. She brushed it away with a kiss, then took the remote out of Aneka’s limp hands and turned the TV off. “That’s enough of that.”

>>>

Okoye grimaced as she took in M’Baku’s and O’Chenga’s shocked expressions. “Before you ask, yes, he really said all of that. I had a meeting with my attorney the very next day to discuss what we’d be doing next.”

“What can you do next, in the face of that?” O’Chenga said in a shell-shocked voice.

“Not much,” Okoye muttered. “You just sort of have to wait for the idiot to hang himself.”

M’Baku’s hand found hers under the table and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Is there anything good that’s come out of the past few weeks?”

“Well--” Aneka paused as she took a sip of water “--there is, actually. It’s kind of a roundabout story, though.”

<<<

“Why do Americans make their coffee so sweet?”

“Well, actually, it’s likely due to the processing most of their foods go through and the melting pot effect of so many merged cultures. Each immigration group had their own way of preparing food and drinks, and when you stack that all together you’re bound to end up with some bastardized versions of bastardized versions of recipes. Plus, sugar and fatty foods were less expensive in America, so most immigrant families would try to replicate the way the wealthy ate back home.” Aneka felt a rush of warmth run from the top of her head to the tips of her toes at the soft smile Ayo favored her with. “What? It’s true.”

Ayo simply shook her head and continued sipping at her coffee. “You’re cute when you’re nerdy.”

Aneka opened her mouth to reply, but was distracted by a flash of gray-blond hair outside the window. “He’s here.” She watched as Agent Ross walked into the shop and up to the counter, then frowned when he kept ordering for nearly a solid minute. “What all is he getting? This is supposed to be a quick meet up.”

Ayo shushed her gently. “You’ll see.”

Agent Ross walked up to their table and sat down with a grimace. “You’ll have to forgive me for being hasty about this, but my brother’s expecting me to meet him in less than twenty minutes.” He set another thumb drive on the table. “I followed up on the leads that Jhanvi sent me. I was able to find the shipment of vibranium you’ve been looking for. Some HYDRA agents captured it after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell.”

“Good,” Aneka said. “Where is it?”

“That’s the sticky part. The shipment’s in my brother’s name. I can’t touch it without him finding out.”

Oh. Not good. Aneka picked up the thumb drive. “So, this is...”

Everett smiled grimly. “I was able to stick a tracking device on the container. Tell Princess Shuri it contains the link up to the device. She’ll know what to do with it.”

“Thank you, Agent Ross,” Ayo said. “We’ll be sure to follow up on the shipment, keep you clear of this.”

“I appreciate it.” He glanced at his watch, then stood with an apologetic wince. “I’m sorry for rushing out, but I really need to go.”

Aneka watched as he walked out, picking up a heavy paper bag of food as he went. “Was he getting food for him and his brother?”

“Doubtful.”

“It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

The corner of Ayo’s mouth turned up and she nodded out the window. “Watch.”

Aneka watched as Agent Ross crossed the street, then stopped to hand off the bag to a homeless mother and her children. She smiled.

The news about the shipment was less than ideal. It’d be near impossible to slip the vibranium out of General Ross’s hands without him realizing that it was them.

But, with allies as kind and aware of the world around them as Agent Ross, she felt like they had a good shot.

Ayo tapped on the table with her now empty cup. “Come on. We need to get the drive to the Princess.”

>>>

“He sounds like an honorable man,” O’Chenga said as he sat back in his seat.

Okoye nodded in agreement. “He is. He fought the Border tribe with us, helped take down the ships trying to carry weapons out of the country.”

Ayo drained half her beer. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need a vacation. All the missions and bad news has seriously worn me out.”

“I think we’ll get a break soon,” Aneka said brightly. “I can feel something coming. Something good.”

“Well, if you’re trying to give me ideas for tonight--”

Okoye chuckled as she watched Aneka swat at Ayo, but she couldn’t help but feel her best friend’s weariness in equal measure.

The past year had been exhausting. It seemed like they kept moving from one disaster to another without a good break from it all.

Okoye let her head rest on M’Baku’s shoulders as she listened to her friends argue back and forth. Bast, please let an end to all the drama come soon.

#sass writes #black panther fanfiction #okoye x m'baku #ayo x aneka x oc #polyamorous relationship #trying some new writing styles for this update #don't think i'll use it too much but it was fun #i can't wait to write some GOOD fluff #the story needs some #wakanda forever

[hysteriamodes]

Coloring in grey scale

So, hey, this is somewhat of a tutorial for those curious about some of my coloring and blending. I made this especially for anyone younger than me and is exploring digital art, but this is also for others who are curious about what I do. I love reading other artist’s comments and looking at their WIPs, so why not.

Another reminder: if you’re looking for my artwork, please follow @rainbow-illness and not this blog. All of my finished stuff goes there; usually, my works in progress (WIPs) or Angry Doodle Corner go here. Sometimes I use this blog to repost my art, but that is my official art blog, no this one. Not unless you like nonsensical posting and metal, then have at it. If you have any questions, don’t be afraid to hit me up, I love talking about art.

So I can’t always sit down and talk about my processes and how I go about doing them, but I was able to sit down and take some screencaps while I was working on my iPad Pro. Using the iPad is actually my first choice to draw on because of the convenience of carrying it around like a sketchbook, whereas my laptop isn’t always easy to carry around--it’s a big laptop. While I use my iPad, I also like to go back and correct things, recolor, re-proportion, or spend more time privately working on a drawing. I have my iPad with me, all the time, so I’m out in places usually like Starbucks doing this. I also struggle with pretty bad PTSD and agoraphobia, so having my iPad out with my headphones on gives me an excuse to put my mind elsewhere to calm down.  My family just usually looks at me and goes “oh, she’s working on her art again”; I did this as a kid, too, only with sketchbooks.

I do not have a Cintiq either, though I would absolutely love one. This laptop is capable of using a stylus, but I think I need a better one to do it with. All I’m using is a cheap Wacom Bamboo tablet that I’ve had for five years, that’s it. Everything I’ve done on this blog has been on a small surface. So if you’re just dabbling into art, don’t beat yourself up for having the small stuff, I’ve worked with small stuff and still do. The only thing I have that’s not small is, well, the space and processor on my laptop are much faster than any other laptop I’ve owned, bought especially for graphic design classes and my artwork. 

So, that being said lemme just forewarn some of you guys. My artwork is all done in two to three layers! Yes, you read that right! Why? When I was 16, I didn’t have a Wacom tablet to mess with, so I had to use a mouse and learned from there. When I turned 18, I got my first Wacom tablet while working my first official job and the family computer didn’t have a good processor. So when I got my first official laptop, it was basic and not made to run anything beyond the web browser and such, it could barely handle Photoshop. It did, however, run Paint Tool SAI with no issue (which is why I still prefer it over anything I use), it just couldn’t handle more than five layers. After losing my drawings constantly and not being able to do anything in the prized software I’ve been eyeing since my Sophmore year of high school, I found a workaround with it. 

And that’s what I’m going to write about here. With that in mind, no, you do not have to limit your layers! I’ve taken traditional art classes so my first instinct is to literally paint over my stuff like I would on a canvas. If you don’t want to do that, you don’t have to! Yes, I am nuts. 

That being said, let's do this.

If you haven’t taken traditional art classes, that’s cool! I’m going to be using some art terms you haven’t heard of, but you definitely will when you take your first ever drawing class. These terms are foreground, value, negative space, contour, and weighted line (I’ve seen it called line weight too). For the more experienced art students who are likely groaning over that stupid contour practice from that book “Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain”, I’m sorry, guys. Newbies, you are going to know this. 

And you are going to hate it. While I still hate it and, yeah, my eyes are rolling into my skull right now just even talking about it, there are some useful practices in here that I... actually use. Who would have thought? At least we’re not talking about still lives.

Anyway, here’s what I’M going to say that some art teachers will not tell you but I want anyone to read this to know:

- Do not obsess over your drawing to look exactly like your reference. Just don’t. Forget this completely, worry about it later or don’t even worry about it at all. This is your style, your interpretation.

- Digital art is hard. Art is hard! Practice makes perfect and you learn over time just by studying (looking at) other pieces of art. It took me like well over 10 years to find my own little niche and I’m still playing around with coloring styles. I have a lot.

- If you’re just starting to draw with a tablet of any kind, play around with it. My first official program was a cheaper version of Paint Shop Pro and when I first got it when I was 14, I sat around and experimented on layers to see what it would look like. Explore!

- When you start drawing figures or faces, try not to think of it as, well,  face or a figure. Reduce it to basic shapes, like squares, triangles, and circles.

Greyscale can establish light source, value, scale, and negative space.

I don’t always use greyscale for my art, but when I do, I appreciate it because it makes my life easier. For example, Alphonse Mucha’s pieces here from his “Slav Epic”.

Chances are, you’ve seen Mucha’s art nouveau on prints, fanart, fabrics, and all of that. But Mucha did so much more and he is a huge influence on me for a reason. By the greyscale we see here, we can see foreground/subject with each illustration. Mucha is using value (that’s shadow) to emphasize this, in addition to negative space (background) to draw you in, just by using black and white. Notice how the other subjects don’t have such a powerful contrast and light source versus the other, especially the woman on the left. Mucha made his art pop by his understanding of contrast.

For this first part of this entry, I’m going to be using Papa Emeritus II from “Ghost”... who is a good example of how to draw faces, too. Huh. Regardless of what drawing program you’re using, keep your opacity low, at 50%.

Simplicity at its finest

Instead of focusing a lot on Emeritus’ face, I’m going to focus on the negative space behind him. I’m using this to define his figure. This is a good picture because of the stark contrast, though, it’s a little tricky because it is really contrasted and you can’t see where the light source really is. But that is okay!  I am going in and just using this negative space, the contour of his head and torso. Before I even think of a face, I want to softly go in and use black (or grey) to fill up that negative space. Keep it simple and work your way up.

After I lightly fill in the negative space around him, I can start lightly going in and establish his face by blocks of shadow.  And this is why Emeritus II is such a good example for this kind of work. I don’t usually start going in and drawing eyes, I rely on the shadows of the face to see where their eyes, ears, lips, and such lie. 

Here’s another example (though, it’s old):

This is in my maroon style underpaint, which is what I post most of the time. For their faces, I just used basically eye sockets to start working on their faces, like Papa Emeritus II down below. Again, this dude is a great example.

Here is where it may get a little funky.  I created a new layer and set that layer to Multiply, still keeping that opacity low. Since I have no light source and I just want to create a really dramatic lighting, I made a vignette with a simple airbrush tool.  

With that little vignette, you can create a new layer (unless you’re me, I just merge it down because of that constant fear of nonexistent software crashing) and I’m using the color pick tool to go back and forth to start using greys to really get into Emeritus’ face, especially his wrinkles. I’m painting over it constantly, switching back and forth between a paintbrush tool and color pick tool to blend. Again, keep your opacity low... unless you’re me and you’re feeling adventurous. You’ll also notice here that I have more than one photo reference. I use several for a lot of my art, so I encourage you to do the same. I had no idea what his jaw looked like, so I grabbed a second photo. Now that I have a better idea of where his hat ends on his forehead and how his nose looks, I start doing a weighted line.

Weighted line and Contour

Now is the dreaded talk. Of contour.

Welcome to Drawing I hell. This cursed image is from the book “How to Draw on the Right Side of the Brain” and if your teacher does not talk about this in your first drawing class, I am going to eat my hat... I have a hat lying around here somewhere. ANYWAY, the contour line exercise is basically you just using a neverending line for a drawing. I don’t know who drew this (and tbh, thanks a lot for every single boring assignment I’ve done in drawing classes), but this guy used contour lines for his drawing. I’m having war flashbacks over here, but I managed to find an art teacher’s page talking about different types of contour. My god, they are evolving.

Going back to our dear friend Papa Emeritus II, I used weighted line to start adding in little shadows to his face.  Weighted line goes hand in hand with contour; it is a great technique to not only add details, but add little bits of shadows.

This is a simple example; the thicker line is adding to the shadow of the apple, giving it value!

Papa Emeritus II is such a good reference... I used him as inspiration for King Melwas here.

Gwenhwyfar is also a good example of weighted line. Gwen is essentially a very, very pale character. In contrast to Melwas, who is in darker clothing, Gwen is soft, she is the focal point in this drawing. For the little pieces of her hair, the corner of her lips, eyelashes, and her fingertips, I used a weighted line to establish these things, otherwise, Gwen is so pale, she’ll easily be washed out completely.

This drawing of Alice, which I’m still messing around with, is another example of how effective a weighted line can be with depth. The lines I added into her face, eyelashes, creases, hair, and fingers add those little details since everything I’ve done before like Papa Emeritus II was so soft with a low opacity on the brush settings.

Layer masks and curves

There are two ways you can color greyscale images.

You can do this by going into Layer > Adjustment Layer > Curves (this is how it looks like in Procreate).

This gives you a neat ol’ base color! I am playing around in the blues, adding soft hues of blue in their figures and the white in this picture can either turn blue, cream, or even green. You don’t have to use Blue, you can use any of the other colors. For me, I’m always drawn to blues. Another cool thing to play around with is Color Balance, which is underneath the same function as Curves.

But if you don’t have any of these, you can add a new layer, and do Multiply.

The only drawback to this, of course, is how destaturated (the lack of color) it looks. And yes, that’s an issue you will have and I did run into this while doing this. How I combat this is using additional layer masks. Believe it or not, Alice here was once at a grey scale, looking even more desaturated than Gwen.

For Alice’s face, I went in and use:

- Soft Light because she needed more peach and roses in her skin. Omri’s original drawing gave her a light rose blush so I wanted to do the same.

- Overlay to mask out the black lines from the greyscale I had.

- Lighten which I used to make her lips pinker, her apron’s shadows lighter, and parts of her hair brown.

The same went for Gwen, who is, again, very pale. But while she’s supposed to be pale, I didn’t wash her out completely. To add more saturation, I used a combination of Soft Light over my Multiply layer and Overlay to start working at the highlights on her hair, nose, and shoulder. 

This little walkthrough isn’t as visual as I like, but with limited software like Fire Alpaca, GIMP, or Paint Tool SAI that don’t have the abilities of Photoshop in terms of color correction and playing around with colors, I really encourage you, readers, to play around with these tools. Using the color picker back and forth, especially after using layer masks, gives you an ability to mix and blend colors. The reason why I work with greyscale or a maroon under paint is that you can create brilliant colors and make a new palette; the trick is to constantly mess around with them. I never go in and flat out color anything, with the exception of things like “angry doodle corner” which is basically what I call my lazy drawings, drawings where I’m just honestly goofing off with.

So in summation...! Or me trying to summarize this.

 Experiment and explore with layer masks and adjustments. Whoever says that using these tools isn’t real art, they’re wrong. And please don’t ever be afraid of using references of any sort!  Alphonse Mucha is saved ten times over on this computer.

#my art #tutorial #i think #an attempt was made #digital art #procreate #ipad drawing #ipad pro #Alice madness returns #alice liddell #american mcgee's alice #alice asylum