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needybabytrashbeans · 10 months

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Quaestor Valdemar x Bismuth (OC) - The Feeling's Mutual

Commission by @silversnape ! Forgot to post and got sick so it's only just now getting posted but glad you enjoyed it fren! :) If anyone else wants to commission my rules are on my page and my DMS are definitely open to it!

Word count: 6,888

Genre: Innocent, fluffy, maybe a lil gorey or horror induced

Enjoy!

There's a graveyard located deep in the forest. Of course it was best to keep it from the palace grounds, for it was a dark little reminder of the past in Versuvia that was hidden amongst overgrown foliage. Quaestor Valdemar hadn't spoken much on it, what was there to say anyway? The land was full to the brim with the dead, headstones far out of reach. Bismuth, the apprentice to the physician, had grown a curiosity for it though it wasn't surprising for her to do so with her because of her natural sense of curiosity. Even if Valdemar hadn't said anything about it themselves the woman had been reading, there weren't many stories on the ancient land but she was able to find a few things.

To start of the land was filled with the dead as stated before, those who lost their lives to the great red plague that ruled over the lands. Bismuth had heard the tales of it from various mouths, people who had lost loved ones during those times or who were descendants of such and even more from Valdemar themselves who seemed to…enjoy talking about such a dark time. That wasn't new though of course it's not like the Quaestor grew eager to talk about anything else but the death toll that occurred back then.

Even so, they could talk about the plague all day she was sure but still…they hadn't said anything on the graveyard itself.

Valdemar suddenly snaps their fingers on front of bright eyes, Bismuth blinks at the action. She had zoned out, the graveyard has been on her mind for a while now. Probably more than it should be. Natural curiosity of a cat, hopefully it wouldn't get her killed.

"Assistant? Bismuth?…Are you even listening?" They question, voice smooth but there's some firmness and a light sigh that leaves them as they eye her, hovering close to her as if examining her gaze. The hand in her face is covered in sticky blood, they lower it to grab a rag that sits beside them, freeing their other hand from the corpse in front of them laying on the table. A man who had died of some sort of liver damage…Valdemar wipes their gloves clean before turning and looking at her once more, eyebrows furrowing a little.

"I'll say it again. Did you even hear a thing I said? How are you supposed to take notes when you can't even focus on what I'm saying?" They huff lightly but it's clear that their tone with her isn't as harsh and cold as it could be, one could say that they were rather nice to her compared to many others. Usually actions like this would set them off, make them glare and tsk in annoyance but they almost seem to have an uncharacteristic…patience with her.

"Mind informing me of whatever could be on your mind at a time like this? Weren't you the one who suggested helping me tonight?" They inquired as they set the now bloody cloth back to the side before crossing their arms over their back. Bismuth looks up at them with surprise before slowly looking down at her feet, heart pumping in her chest just having them look at her. As curious as she was for the graveyard she had to avoid their gaze for a moment for she might end up flushing. She was infatuated with the other, whether they knew or not and usually a scenario where they were focus on her was like a dream but right now it seemed like she was before scolded which put a light frown on her lips.

She looks from her shoes and uniform back to the dead man on the table, his skin is pale as his torso lays wide open for all to see. There's tools on the side, a surgical knife, tweasers, a scalpel… her gaze stays on her for a moment before she looks back up at her superior who seems to still be waiting patiently for a reply, lightly lifting a brow.

"I've…been thinking about the graveyard in the forest." She finally admits slower than she usually would and Valdemar looks at her in slight suspension as she starts that sentence off just for their eyes to widen as she finishes. It's almost as if they didn't expect that answer from her, at all, and maybe they didn't but why did they almost seem spooked by her words? It's silent for a moment, unexpectedly silent, and Bismuth can't help but feel herself grow anxious. She must've said something wrong. There's a moment where she begins to regret saying anything but it's not like the woman would hold information from them if they asked because she followed them and admired them greatly. There was no way she could lie so easily to them. However, their silence makes her feel like she shouldn't have opened her mouth at all. She can feel herself begin to shake a little, the idea of them being angry getting to her for that was just not something she could handle.

She jumps when a gloved hand seems to snake its way under her chin. She twitched at the touch but Valdemar doesn't take that as a reason to pull away as they carefully cup her chin, firm but not enough to bruise or cause pain.

"Why would something like that be on your mind? How did you even find out about that place? No.." they speak, eerily persistent before shaking their head a little as if that wasn't the way they seen themselves starting their response.

"That place is not safe. Thinking about it like you are must mean you're curious in it…I don't know what that brain of yours is thinking but you don't plan to go find it for yourself do you?" They contested. They were in her face now, still holding her chin but leaned in close. Tone hard and gaze unyielding as they looked at her and made her look at them. Their hand pressed slightly harder as her eyes widened before her lip started to quiver a little, it didn't hurt it's not like they were digging their nails in or pressed harshly on her cheeks, they're hold was firm but gentle almost like leading a small animal to look and focus on them.

Bismuth could feel her eyes watering, she couldn't help but feel troubled or that she was being trouble for them. She suddenly felt a little bad within herself, over thinking. She did come to help them because that's what she loved, being under them and around them…close enough to touch them but now they were upset with her, looking at her with such a gaze even if their hand felt surprisingly warmer than they usually were on her cheeks.

Valdemar's gaze seems to soften even just a little, they make a motion of shaking her head softly from side to side. It lightens the mood even just a little, especially when they push up her cheeks and make her pout and pucker her lips. They huff softly before letting her free a second after.

"I'm not angry with you Bismuth, just don't go out there and that is a warning." They advised while turning away from her to walk over to a counter.

"I..heard about it at the market. I was just wondering and all. When we…work on things together like the bodies of the living it's only natural for me to wonder where they go when we're done with them. You…don't let me come with you when you take them away." She spoke feebly, at the time of doing so the Quaestor had picked up a body bag. It was black, easy to be ignored or confused for a shadow if spotted in the woods. She watched them and their tall lean figure as they did so and noticed when they seemed to pause at her words, calculating them in their brilliant brain.

"You…want to come with me?" They asked as if perplexed and she nodded almost as if shy.

"Yes." She confirms politely.

They seem to think about it, brows knitting together a little as if thinking of the consequences of this action if they agreed. She has been working with them for a while now, long and diligently too… She always did what she was told with no talk back and little failure, enough so that Valdemar themselves had placed a certain level of importance on her. They eventually breathe in deep through their nose and out through their mouth, collecting themselves and their various thoughts before walking over to the lifeless body and the woman.

"Fine, I feel as though I can trust you… just don't touch anything and don't venture off. Do you understand Bismuth?" They spoke carefully as they pulled open the body bag waiting for her response even though they were positive that they already knew what she would say. As they led the body into the bag and eventually zipped it up they glanced at her from the corner of their eyes to see…a sparkle could be found in those dark eyes of hers.

With eyes like hers they could be seen as nothing but plain to some though it was easy to see… that not many people held eyes like her's. Sometimes they'd twinkle when they called her name, even more so when she had earned some praise. Inky blackness seemed like a spiraling galaxy at times, at least when Valdemar was in the picture.

They looked away after a moment, moving their hands to grasp the body bag and haul the contents over their shoulder. Honestly, for how lean they were, they were quite strong…

"Y-yes!" She answered, a look of determination now forming on that cute little face of hers as she agreed to their terms.

"Well come on. Don't get lost." They emphasized before turning away and leading the way to the dungeons exit. She eagerly followed like a puppy and they found themselves chuckling softly at it, how she had gone from that pout from earlier to such a sweet smile.

It was a bit of a walk to get there but with each step they made Bismuth could feel the energy that flowed from the forest. It was like a tingle running over her skin or an unintelligible whisper in her ears. She had grown rather anxious during their little adventure together, even going far enough to be right on Valdemar's heels though they didn't seem to mind. At least she was staying by their side like they told her to.

The full moon was out, the smell of dirt and rain laced the air. From Valdemar's perspective they walked with a sternness, they knew where they were going unlike their subordinate. Their walk hadn't contained much talking at first, mostly the crunches of leaves under their feet or the screeching of crickets took up the silence. It was only when they weren't too far when Valdemar eventually spoke, breaking the silence but not without the woman walking beside them jumping as if shocked to hear of them after all this time. Valdemar grinned, a toothy grin that was just a bit wider than usual as if they found it funny to see the woman practically shaking in her boots.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to spook you." They hummed looking down at her before looking ahead again, eyes glowing bright in the darkness. In their free hand they held a lantern to help the woman beside them, just because they could see in the conditions of the night didn't mean that she could as well.

"I just wanted to say that for someone who was so curious you're shaking like a leaf. One would one I dragged you out here if you keep scrunching your eyebrows and looking around like that." They pointed out but there was a playful edge to their tone as if trying to help the woman calm down. It seemed to work as she turned her head to them quickly, cheeks brightly flushing at their teasing. When her mouth fell open as if to say something back they lifted a brow, smug smirk on their lips.

"Please don't tease me Quaestor…" she huffs softly turning her gaze away but not without them noticing the light flush on her cheeks. They chuckled but left her be for the time being.

It's a bit chilly out tonight, nothing that would stop the Quaestor themselves but Bismuth rubbed at her arms for more warmth. Valdemar led the way, their tall figure finding a trail and walking along it. The gates of the graveyard were rusted, the doors stuck in place and wide open almost as if welcoming them but Bismuth shivered just looking at it. It wasn't as if she didn't expect it to be somewhat like this but the eerie feeling in the air felt too heavy even with someone like the Quaestor being there to guide her.

Her stomach churned as her onyx gaze trailed over the land, headstones poking out for what seemed to be far far away as if there wasn't an ending. She briefly covered her eyes, mind getting jumbled for a moment as she tried to calm her nerves but then the sound of metal clinging against metal had made her jerk. Snapping out of her thoughts. Her gaze moved to Valdemar who had sat the lantern down for a moment, a shovel now in their free hand which had been leaning against the rusted gate with one other.

"Are you okay assistant?" They asked but their tone was less playful than before as they almost seemed to look at her…in worry. She flushed at the expression, that frown pulled at their lips felt homey. Bismuth nods quickly this time, waving a hand dismissely while still holding herself with the other.

"I-im fine. Just a bit cold out here tonight considering how warm it was earlier." She replied now lightly shrugging. Valdemar hummed at the reply but eventually nodded before looking down at the lantern next to their foot.

"Look, come here. The sooner we get this done the sooner we'll be able to return to the palace. The rain must've caused a cold front. Take the lantern and follow me, you'll be the light." They instructed and obediently the woman approached and carefully plucked the lantern off the ground. They nodded and from there on continued by passing through the fence.

There was a heavy fog in the graveyard, the heads of tombs only became harder and harder to recognize as the two of them went deeper and the crickets who chirped so loudly before had suddenly fallen silent. Valdemar walked with ease and poise, they've been across these lands many times before that at first they didn't realize Bismuth had fallen a bit behind. For her, these lands almost seemed like anything could jump out and grab her at any given moment. She trembled now but not because of the cool weather this time.

"Bismuth?" Their voice rang out through the still air. She quickly turned, they were probably about ten or so paces in front of her now, standing out in the field of fog and gravestones. Their magenta eyes looked at her, a slight bit of confusion could be found in their features.

"Are you sure something isn't the matter?" They called out. Just hearing their voice calmed her, surprisingly like a guide through the dark. She came to the conclusion that she didn't like it here as much as she previously thought she would, previously her curiosity of the place had come from the lack of general knowledge on it. Granted graveyards…weren't her favorite though so it should have been expected. Originally she planned to come in the early hours of the day, where the sun could keep her peace of mind safe but the Quaestor had caught her so quickly. So then, when they allowed her to come she practically leapt at the chance to spend more time with them. She hardly thought about her decision at first but once they entered the forest it felt like her heart constricted in her chest and that something…was watching.

She shook her head though even as her heart was racing in her chest and her stomach was churning a bit.

"N-no, just thought I heard something…" she says softly, running her free hand through her long raven hair as she caught up for them and they waited up until she was standing beside them again.

"Something…like what?" They persisted lightly but she didn't mind as they turned forward again and continued walking. From this distance and with this pace of step Bismuth could notice a few things about her superior. She tended to do so often, just a few days ago she noticed they had freckles. A few could be spotted on the space of their neck that didn't get wrapped but most were over their cheeks. She'd grown to like them, quite a bit actually. Right now she was picking up on their scent, a blush coming to her cheeks as her gaze fell to her walking feet.

They smelled of something sweet and gentle like lavender and then something more earthy and homey like sandalwood and it was hard not to notice, it was some of her favorite smells.

"It feels like we're being watched..so, I didn't necessarily hear anything." She spilled without them having to push too hard. They hummed at the response, a little frown seemed to dust their lips for a moment but then they grinned widely, sharp teeth glistening in the moonlight. It was as if they were proud of something.

"Well yes, that would only make sense. We are at a graveyard after all. I feel them as well but they know not to approach me so as long as you keep up you won't be snatched into the void between life and death." They informed, their words chilling.

This graveyard hosted the bodies of those that passed away during the plague, their spirits watched from a distance but with hunger in their eyes just being near a walking, breathing, person. Her flesh reminded them or theirs before they plague tore it off them or melted it away. Now they looked like ghouls, the energy that they carried was heavy. Heavier than anything else Bismuth had ever felt before and to be honest, their phrasing did nothing to ease her this time.

Her face didn't match theirs, she didn't have a wide grin on her lips like they had in theirs. She nodded though, surely they didn't mean too much harm by saying that right?

"I wouldn't let anything happen to you." They spoke lastly as they moved off the pavement to venture into the grass into an open plot. There was already a headstone in the dirt but nothing was on it as Valdemar knelt down to slide the body bag from their shoulder to the ground to rest in the grass. Bismuth had fallen silent, the churning in her stomach had turned back into a wild fluttering.

"Right…" she manages to say softly as she pets her warm cheeks with her free hand. They don't respond immediately this time, taking the shovel in their hands now. She hovers close but they wave her back a little.

"Hold the light." The ordered calmly and she nodded. As they started digging she couldn't help but look around the graveyard again, surveying the area. She couldn't see any faces, not any ghoul like creatures but she could…feel them. A heavy shiver ran up her spine for a split moment. She still felt sick even with them being near, felt as if at any time she'd feel someone breathing down her neck tickling the strands of hair there. She shifted on her feet as the Quaestor kept digging, they were a little over a foot deep now, eyes focused on the goal. She watched as they went further and by the time that they dug enough for just their headdress to be seeable Bismuth was shivering again.

Her dark eyes glanced around again, first time quickly, darting from corner to corner now, checking her surroundings continuously but being sloppy with the task as well since she feared that she'd actually see something this time. It was when her eyes looked at the body bag next to the large hole that she froze. For the splittest of moments it seemed like it had moved and she squeaked and jumped at the very thought. She was spooked, the longer she stood here with this light the more she felt like she was drawing moths in. They circled her, the sound of fluttering wings in her ears loud and overstimulating.

"What is it now Bismuth?" Valdemar called out again, this time peeking their head up from the hole to look at the woman. If it wasn't the fact that the woman was practically scared shitless she probably would have found their position a little humorous for it distantly reminded her of a gopher sticking its head out of the dirt. No, she trembled and upon seeing her Valdemar lifted a brow. Surely it was her own fear at this point, nothing had come for her all night and yet she was this frightened.

"I..uh…" she stuttered and they sighed. If they could guarantee that she was strong enough they'd suggest switching spots. No way that could happen, she'd take too long in that state and it's not like they wanted to give her that much work anyway.

"It won't be too long now if that helps ease you. With how scared you seem I can count on the fact that you'll never come here alone right?" They chuckled while going back to work looking back to the hole as they dug the shovel in again but the woman let out a much smaller laugh, rubbing her arm with her free hand again. This was probably why Valdemar didn't bring her along with them to begin with until today, this seemed like only a place they could thrive in. They didn't seem fearful or nervous at all to be here, they almost seemed to blend right in and that made the woman feel a little embarrassed… She was an adult and yet she shook like a young child right now who was scared the Boogeyman would get her. Maybe she was just overreacting…even if she felt sick to her stomach.

"Yes, I don't think I could be caught dead here." She replied without much thought and for a moment complete silence settled between them before Valdemar snorted, then they let out a roar of laughter. They cackled as if she meant to tell that joke, as if they'd slap their knee at any given time. They curled in on themselves, using the handle of the shovel for support as their wicked laughter filled the air.

Usually people would be unnerved by this but Valdemar had a nice tone of laughter, Bismuth noticed even if she had jerked upon it first coming out. It felt like they hadn't laughed like that in a long time and even if Bismuth was a little confused she felt warm hearing it. Knowing that she was the source of such made her cheeks flush and for a moment she felt a soft smile beginning to form on her lips as they let it all out.

That was until a hand, cold and clammy, slapped over her mouth with harsh pressure. It held an iron grip on her as shock surged through her entire being from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Suddenly that warmth she felt shattered into an icy feeling of wriggling worms in her gut as the lantern fell from her hand, knocking the lit flame out and enveloping the area in the darkness once more.

When Valdemar eventually calmed themselves they hummed in content.

"Bismuth I didn't know you were a comedian-" they began to praise the little woman but froze when they realized how dark it had gotten so suddenly. Immediately they clambered out of the hole, it was deep enough now anyway. All that was needed was to toss it in and bury it but now something else was on Quaestor Valdemar's mind which seemed far more important than the corpse.

"Bismuth?" They stated louder, firmer, this time before snapping their head in the direction of the lantern that now lay abandoned in the grass. They sneered at the object like it was offensive to their very being…they let their guard down for the slightest of moments and that was apparently just enough. They didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know what had happened.

Their hands were freezing cold as they held her tightly, hands gripping and grasping at her like they'd tear the skin right off her body at any time. Bismuth was in a frenzy, kicking wildly even if none of them seemed to make any actual contact as if she was kicking nothing but air, as if no one was really there but they had to be…their hold was starting to get awfully painful. Tears were leaking from Bismuth's eyes as she looked up at the various faces. The spirits, which she could now see even if she wished she couldn't, had black eyes but nothing like hers which were laced in anguish, their eyes were soulless, empty, and devoid of any purpose or care for her. They wrestled her on the ground as if trying to drag her down to Hell with them.

'Flesh.'

One of their voices stated, eery and chilling to the ear. Raspy and hungry as a hand slid down her warm cheeks, wiping at Bismuth's tears even if more took their place. She snapped her head away, turning it to try and avoid the touch but another, different hand roughly grabbed her chin and turned her back.

'Such…warm skin.'

Another voice echoed, it was hard to tell who it came from but the spirits faces which had previously been devoid of emotions turned into slow, knowing grins. Their teeth were wicked and the lines on their faces seemed abnormal, inhumane, and Bismuth gagged on puke which had built in her. They didn't seem to care, if she choked on her own bile then surely they could take her flesh a lot sooner after she died and proceed to drag her soul into the afterlife with them. They seemed to collectively communicate this between themselves as their grins grew even wider. There were quite a number of them, fifteen or so and counting as spirits seem to curiously leave their graves to see what the ruckus was all about.

It wasn't often that a human like her, or a human of any case, came through this graveyard and being victims of the plague only gave the spirits reasons to have a vendetta. Quaestor Valdemar had been their deaths and for many long years their spirits have been contained in this area where magic of the Quaestor held them in place. However, when the Quaestor approached today and with a cute little human with them at their hip, the spirits decided the best case of repayment for their internal suffering was to take from the lead physician themselves. Which is why when their guard was at its lowest they took her and dragged Bismuth further into the graveyard like a human rag doll.

Bismuth continued to squirm and wrestle them, her clothes getting dirty as she kicked up grass and dirt in her fight. Her clothes were wet with mud. Eventually a cold hand clasped around her ankle making her gasp as one of her last attempts to get away from these people, these creatures,…was taken from her. Hands already held down her wrist against the freezing ground as a spirit sat on her chest, a lady with long inky black hair…much too similar to Bismuth's.

'Lets take her…'

'Drag her back to hell with us…'

'Feed off her flesh and bones…'

'Savor her warm blood…'

The voices spoke as if they were circling and this time Bismuth was permitted to hear the conversation and when she did her eyes widened in absolute fear. They wanted to feed off her, consume her as if she was…prey.

The ghostly woman above Bismuth leaned down, long sharp nails digging deep into Bismuth's wrist, hard enough to make them bleed. Bismuth cried in pain under the hold but the woman continued, leaning close until she slid her tongue out. It was long, gray in color, Bismuth looked at her in wary and when the woman slowly trailed that cold tongue over Bismuth's tear stained cheek the living woman croaked under the hand over her mouth. More tears fell, the woman was tasting her and as much as she wanted to fight and run Bismuth couldn't do anything but stay glued to the ground under their surprising strength. She couldn't even move her hands to perform any form of magic that could save her.

Her thoughts went to Valdemar. She wondered where they were, if they were still laughing at the gravesite even. Her heart twisted in her chest, she was sure they would have never found themselves in this situation. They were strong, something that she didn't see herself as at times and this was definitely one of those times. What if they…were embarrassed by her? If they could see her now, fighting uselessly against a bunch of ghosts with no luck would they laugh at her like they laughed at her joke? A cruel, chilling laugh as if they saw no use in her? This is probably why they didn't trust her enough to bring with them to this place before, this whole time she had been useless and nothing but a nuisance. Surely if she had never come they wouldn't have had to deal with her and could have finished a lot quicker.

And now, she was going to die. At the hands of Quaestor Valdemar's own victims who saught revenge.

Bismuth sobbed, she was scared. Her stomach hurt like it had never down before and when the ghostly woman above her bared her teeth as if to bite Bismuth squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

…Then, the sound of swishing wind filled the air like a whip. It took a moment for Bismuth to realize what happened until screeching cries filled the air and a firm hand grabbed her by the back of her shirt and pulled her back with a heave. She bounced a little at being pulled back, blinked heavily as those tears fell and she tried to make sense of what occurred. It was when she looked up, lifting her head from the ground, that her eyes widened in awe, heart leaping in her throat.

In front of her stood…the Quaestor. Their back was to her, tall and broad as they stood in front of her as if they were…protecting her. In their hand was a weapon, one she's never seen them with before now and her eyes sparkled just seeing it, just being in its presence. It was a scythe, a long beautiful scythe with an ancient looking skull holding the blade together to the staff. They twirled it in their hands with a form of grace she's never seen before with any else and the head of the blade twinkled in the moonlight.

"Bismuth…" Valdemar stated in a calm tone though their voice was also firm. She immediately jumped just hearing it.

That was all though from them as they twisting their right wrist, scythe practically glowing. She clutched her shirt with shaking hands, the screeching had dialed down into growling and snarling except for one spirit, the woman who sat on Bismuth, her head had been severed from her body, lying limp on the ground and slowly turning to dark ash. A few spirits had been cut down, bodies turning into ash, melting away in the wind. Bismuth's heart was racing in her ribcage far too much for her to even say anything without her voice shaking. It was fine though for Valdemar still wasn't done dealing with the rest of the now infuriated ghosts.

"I'll only say it once. Get back in your graves, now, and I won't have to destroy all of you." The Quaestor stated with an eerily smooth tone. A few spirits backed off and hesitated just hearing them, faltering at the weight that those words carried. They sounded a little…angry.

Were they angry for her?

'Tch! As if!' A spirit roared, a man with dark crunchy hair. He and a few others decided to try again and as they bomb rushed the Quaestor Valdemar who narrowed their gaze, sharp fuschia eyes zoned in on their opponents as they rushed forward, and with a reeled back swing they slashed at the incoming borage. The wind produced by the scythe time was enough to slash at the trees even beyond the graveyard. It was seeable too, the slash that is. It was bright, their magic being a vibrant emerald color with specks of lighter greens and onyx's. The trees that were slash fell to the ground with loud, destructive thuds and with them came more screeching as spirits who didn't listen to the Quaestor's words lost their heads much like those before them. The slash had even sliced through rows of graves, shattering them with the impact.

As their bodies crumbled and collapsed the few spirits who had a sense of mind trembled in fear, looking at the Quaestor who stood unyieldingly in front of the woman behind them, before scurrying like a bunch of roaches and rodents back into their graves.

Quaestor Valdemar stood in silence for a moment as Bismuth tried to get on her feet before turning to her. They could be heard taking in a long deep breath through their nose before slowly releasing it from their smooth lips before turning to the woman, scythe dissolving from their hands into inky black, gas like tendrils before disappearing altogether. Their gaze on her seemed unreadable, not like they were easy to read begin but over the time of working by their side even Bismuth had gotten to know some of their expressions. This one however…

She scramble to her feet, wincing at the feeling of the scratches that had come from being dragged and the forming bruises on her skin. Even so she stood, holding one of her arms now. She still had tears in her eyes and almost as if ashamed she slowly lowered her gaze, bangs sweeping over her eyes.

"Doctor…I'm…I'm…" she sniffled. She shouldn't have come with them. She had been nothing but a nuisance after all. She wanted to apologize and is her mouth quivered she opened her mouth to officially get it out but the feeling of arms enclosing her made her jump and jerk into silence. Her mouth lightly fell open and her eyes had blown wide open as the moon shined down on them.

They were hugging her.

Shock rushed through her body.

"Don't." They started, arms hugging her even closer. She's never touched them before, sure they hovered over her at times and lingered closely but never once have they ever…held her. Never once had she even been this close to them, close enough to take in that sweet scent, enough to touch their pristine clothing, or enough to feel the light warmth that radiated from them. Her fingers twitched, carefully moving up to wrap around them too. A part of her feared reciprocating but surely this meant it was allowed though right? Surely she could have this from them.

"I'm glad you weren't hurt too badly. I let my guard down and just like that you were taken from me. Taken from my side. I must still have work to do when it comes to keeping you safe." They hummed against her, breath lightly tickling her neck making her shiver softly, a blush coloring her cheeks as she bit her lip. Her heart hurt, the tone in their voice sounded hopeless, grateful but analytical. It sounded like they were blaming themself for everything that had happened.

Before Bismuth had noticed she had started to shed tears, for some reason she felt lighter and Valdemar's scent and the hand rubbing soothing circles in her back didn't help calm her sobbing. She felt many things suddenly; relief, sadness, confusion and something much more fluffy.

Admiration.

She couldn't immediately understand what they were doing or why but she didn't mind. She would never mind something like this and from someone like them specifically. She almost tightened her hold when she felt them slowly pulling away but she restrained herself. They moved their hands to her shoulders and gave them a little squeeze.

"Let's get back to the palace, I'll check over you and look over your wounds." They hummed, right hand moving to caress her cheek, wiping at a few tears before lightly cupping her cheeks and tilting it to look a little closer at her. They seemed rather occupied for someone who said they'd check it later, were they actually worried? Even with her blushing hot cheeks she stayed still as they hovered close to her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, hands on their biceps. A chuckle eventually left their lips, filling the night air. Next thing Bismuth knew there was a soft pair of lips against her cheek. She blinked in confusion before her face exploded in a bright crimson color.

"At least they didn't scruff up this little face of yours too badly. Come on, let's go." They spoke, tone going from lightly joyous to a more professional one once more but even so Bismuth could have sworn their face had also grown a bit dark in hue. She slapped her hand over her cheek and sputtered, officially at a loss for words.

"You! Huh?! Oh God…" She concluded in defeat. Her face was so flushed as she followed them. It was like she immediately had forgotten what had previously occurred to her. They had…kissed her! Her heart was practically running laps in her chest so fast that she had to reach a hand up and grip her shirt. She had never thought they'd do such a thing, did that mean they felt something for her like she had for them for so long now? Is that why she caught them staring at her at times or seemingly overprotective with her, even a bit clingy at times? She didn't mind those times with them was this proof?

She sure hoped it was.

She opened her mouth to say something about it after a while of walking with them. They had made their way back to the grave, the body was gone now in the dirt, buried beneath the earth and next to the gravestone was the lantern. Valdemar grabbed it before they continued the walk, leading Bismuth back to the fence.

"Um…Quaestor?" She started softly as they walked the trail.

"Valdemar is fine." They replied with no issue. Bismuth nodded.

"Alright but…I'm just…a little confused. I don't want to assume but…back there you…" she squeezed out, Valdemar could probably see her tapping for pointer fingers together like a shy child. They lifted a brow, glancing down at her at their side before laughing a little, now looking at her fully again as they made their way back to the palace.

"Can't even wait for us to get back to safety before you ask those things?" They inquired, tone lightly teasing as they looked away once more. "It's been a long time since I've felt for someone as I do with you. That's what you were going to ask right? Well, I thought it'd be the best way to show you how I felt, maybe I got caught up in the moment as well." They explained and Bismuth fell into silence, eyes wide, and heart stunned. Were they really just confessing to her?

"Was I wrong to do so? I read that maybe people liked to use cheek kisses for those they like, would you prefer a different one?" They hummed, a grin on their lips but yes their cheeks were bright as well, a little blush of their own. They had read up on something like that just for her? She needed to know more but even then it felt like her heart would explode out her chest at any moment. How long have they felt this way for her? What books had they read? What ideas did they have for different kisses?

Bismuth was a mess, if she could tuck her face into her shirt for a moment she probably would.

"I've liked you for so long…" she whispers and Valdemar hums.

"And the feeling is mutual, so let's talk about it when we get back. We can discuss whatever you'd like and I'll answer with honesty to each one. " They promised and from there Bismuth nodded, butterflies practically bubbling up her throat as they eventually exited the woods.

"Okay." She agreed softly.

#writing comissions #writing community #commissions open #writing #the arcana x reader #the arcane game #thank you for the commission!#quaestor valdemar #valdemar x reader #valdemar #valdemar x mc #oc commission #commission me #commissions are open #otome romance

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sward-iak · 9 months

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Intro Post!

Hello! Some of you may know me from somewhere else, and to that (unless you're a super close friend of years now) I say nay! You do not!

I am a in my 20s concept art/writer hobbyist. I work a full 40 hours with week, sometimes with overtime (so if I'm MIA, that's why!). When I'm not at work though I thoroughly enjoy reading, writing, drawing, playing video games, and hanging out with my family/friends!

Writeblr/Main: @sqeedledob

Request Info

I've been getting some DMs about my requests so hopefully this will clear things up! Commissions are always more of a priority than requests, and people who Donate to my Ko-Fi are my second priority. Requests will be completed at my leisure.

Primary Requests: CLOSED

Primary requests are in my typical style and can range from concept art to simple illustrations. These requests are actually colored and finished to varying stages just depending on how I'm feeling. I try not to spend more than a week on a request but if I'm really vibing with it, I'll probably finish it

Examples of what you can expect for a primary request

Sketch/Ask Box Requests: OPEN

Sketch requests take me a max of 20 minutes and I usually use them as a means of warming up. So if you'd rather quick art of an OC or character instead of something that could take anywhere from a few weeks to a few months, this is the way to go! These are only accepted through the Ask Box and MUST include a reference!

Examples of what you can expect for a Sketch/Ask Box

Below the cut are rules/expectations for requests, thank you guys for reading!

Also because a few people had asked for this, I am going to link my Ko-fi. There's no pressure to tip, I do all of this for fun, but if you want to I won't stop u! xD [Click here for da Ko-Fi]

PRIMARY REQUEST RULES

This is a request, not a commission. I will take the requester's input in mind when drawing, but I will not do revisions

Any fandom, cross over, and oc is welcome. I will do my best to characterize/draw them even if I'm not into the fandom myself, and you might just introduce me to my new favorite show/book!

NSFW requests are allowed, however keep in mind:

- I WILL NOT draw beastiality/Zoophilia - I WILL NOT draw Loli/Lolita or anything related to CP - I WILL NOT draw Furry NSFW. I have nothing against furries, furry NSFW just personally makes me uncomfortable and I do not like looking at it much less drawing it (this includes Ponies) - I WILL NOT draw anything for a franchise that is directed toward younger audiences, ie: anything rated PG or TV Y7 (PG-13 is Acceptable, DEPENDING ON THE FRANCHISE. ie: Marvel) - I WILL NOT draw Non/Dub Con, or anything that would cause someone to use the Dead Dove tag - I WILL NOT draw irl people in NSFW situations, ie Youtubers, Streamers, etc. Fictional Characters only IF A REQUEST SHOULD MAKE ME UNCOMORTABLE I fully reserve the right to Deny it, even if it is not on this list

If you do make an NSFW request, I will make a SFW version to post and send you the NSFW privately. I try to limit how much NSFW I share on this account

I can draw anything from landscapes to robots, humans to creatures. (Just cause I won't draw NSFW of furries or Ponies doesn't mean I won't do SFW art of them!) I fully enjoy testing the bounds of my artistic abilities and I invite people to help me challenge them!

Humans, robots, furries, dragons, anything. Put anything in here.

And to reiterate: Primary requests can take a while, especially since my queue is pretty long right now! I will make another post when my Queue opens up a bit!

In progress (Commissions): Tank (Color Picking) Simon (Line Art Clean Up) Wolfie (Sketch) Surplus (Sketch) Beth (Sketch) In Queue, not started (in order): @frlituj @jessica199616 @we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono @lovablenatsume @princeasimdiya12 @airfriedfruitcake @hallwriteblr

Sketch/Ask Box Requests

This is a quick request to help me warm up and will usually take max 20 minutes. So it'll be fast/messy!

Any fandom, cross over, and oc is welcome. I will do my best to characterize/draw them even if I'm not into the fandom myself, and you might just introduce me to my new favorite show/book!

NSFW requests are not allowed for this one, just so I can keep it simple and quick without having to put too much thought into it

Humans, robots, furries, dragons, anything. Put anything in here.

#Artist #Artist on tumblr #Artist intro post #intro post #art request #art request info

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juncojunk-o · 1 year

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Commissions Live [3 Slots Open]

For more information, please read the following.

Hello everyone!

After deliberating and planning, I will start accepting requests for commission work as of today and into the foreseeable future. I will be taking a few small steps into this endeavour at first and, ideally, be expanding my offerings going forward.

For the time being, there are limited options that one may select as a basis for commission. This is meant to limit the scope of requests in an attempt to keep lead times short. I'm aware that I have a propensity to become fatigued, distracted, or otherwise sidetracked when it comes to my illustration projects. By shrinking the scope of these commission illustrations my hope is that I can finish them quickly and with relative ease. That being said, I've made a few caveats and exceptions to those interested [The caveat is basically always 'Just ask me about it and we'll work something out. Maybe.']. With that out of the way, let's move on.

Commission Info

As mentioned, what I will be offering with this first round of commissions will be limited. They'll be centred around the premise of 'Single Character Illustrations' offered at various tiers of quality. This is standard practice from my experience, but I don't often operate in this regard because I find it limiting. However, that's kind of the point this time around!

No fussing around with details. The client sends me a reference of a character they want drawn [Visual preferred, but written isn't off the table], along with the tier/price point/level of quality they desire. A pose, action, idea, or concept to go along with the character is heavily advised unless the client wants to give me creative liberty with the project.

As mentioned in the references, there might be an idea or part of the illustration the client desires or is curious about. Feel free to enquire as the worst that will happen is I say, "Nah."

Slots are open on a first come, first serve basis. Work will be done in batches until all previous commissions are complete. I'll make posts to let folks know when slots are closed and when they reopen.

Stipulations and Boundaries

I will not draw NSFW content.

An illustration may be revealing or somewhat risque, but I will not be drawing any characters in the nude or involved in indecent situations.

If you're curious about what things I'm willing to create, the best way to find out is to scroll through my posts. Otherwise, consult this helpful list that has most [I think] of the things I generally draw:

Girls

Furries / Scalies

Monsters

Fantasy Stuff

Fanart

Cool Outfits

If you're curious about what things I might be willing to create, consult this secondary list of things that I do not draw regularly, but have no qualms about drawing:

dudes

flowers? trees?

fish

animals in general

uuuuuh food

man idk just like request something normal please

If you're curious about what things I'm NOT willing to create, the best way to find out is ask. Better yet, ask yourself first. "Would this artist find drawing [blank] weird?" if you answered yes or even hesitated, you're probably right. I am a prudish individual and I do not enjoy drawing things for capital to begin with.

Payment

Payment will be done through Paypal or Ko-Fi and discussed in detail on a client by client basis.

Paypal is preferred as Ko-Fi assumes that if I get paid I will FOR SURE get your commission done. This is not my preferred method of payment. I strive to make sure the client is content with the end product before I accept payment, ergo payment shall be processed at the end of our transaction. The client receives the final, full quality, render of their requested work and I am paid in full.

How To Contact Me

Please contact on Tumblr via messaging as I will not be publicly distributing my methods of interaction [IM/E-Mail]. I can also be reached at my Twitter, @TheToothyTerror if such an avenue is more convenient.

Thanks for reading and please reblog / share this post because wow man I'm really stupid broke.

#artists on tumblr #artist commisions #commission #commissions open #Junco #Toothy #art #drawing #illustration #artwork #furry

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twitterpated-passion · 10 months

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Commission Information

Yes, I am doing commissions. Yes, all information will be in this post, and yes, I am still doing monthly stories even while taking commissions.

Ok, first and foremost, I am a romance writer, if that wasn't obvious by everything in my profile. Which means that unless it has romance in it, I probably won't do another genre. However, having romance with another genre is perfect.

Second is that I am also a monster romance writer. It's what I'm comfortable with putting out with this blog and it's what'll stay for this blog. So, I'm sorry if you wanted something else, but this hellsite is a vast place full of so many writers who I'm sure'll be happy to have your business.

Pricing, Word Counts and Limits

There are three selections for what I can write. All with a set word count and price. No, the word count won't be exact, as I am known to go over a little it if the story needs it, however, when that inevitably happens, you're still paying the set price. I won't be charging extra for less than a hundred words extra lmao.

5k words - Sfw - $15 : For this selection, pick if you want it to be in second person or third. For second person, I usually do x readers, but I am open to doing original characters, while third person is for original characters only. If it's x reader, give me a run down of your personality, your interests, what you look like and the pronouns you use. Do the same thing if you want an original character instead. Choose the monster race you'd like and if you already have a character you want to use, send a profile or describe them thoroughly, I would love to see what you have in mind.

5k words - Nsfw - $20 : Same thing as sfw, but smutty, tell me what you want to have in your scenes, tell me what you don't want in it.

10k words - Sfw and Nsfw - $30 : Big boy package. Tell me which one you'd like and then follow the instructions above.

I'm pretty open to a lot, however, what I won't do is anything dealing romance or nsfw with children(sfw platonic and familial is encouraged), noncon, anything with feet(please don't), anything dealing with vore or anything with piss/scat. These are hard limits. If there is anything else, I will let you know if you happen to put it down and then I will add it to this post.

Time, Payment Methods, Where to Contact me and Other Info

Is there a set time limit to your commissions? No, I apologize, but unfortunately, my life sometimes gets busy and I do have my own novels and projects, such as this blog. I also don't want to give a false deadline and disappoint when I cannot meet it. I do promise, however, that with the time, you will get quality with your stories.

For payment, I only use Venmo, which I will give to you when the story is done, but before I give you the file for the story.

If you'd like to set up a commission(thank you, by the way), you can contact me at my email: [email protected]

Other info is that, while I will post about it if it ever comes up, I fall quickly to stress lmao. Which means that if I get enough commissions, I will have to close it until I am able to open them again. It will not be a long wait, I assure you, but it will be a wait nonetheless.

If you've read this through, thanks, and even if you don't want a commission or you can't afford it, I appreciate you being here anyway.

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beansnake · 2 years

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retirement + the future

Hey everyone!

I’ll cut right to the point: I am retiring from being a full-time artist. I’ll give further details below the readmore, but I know this will be a very long post due to my propensity for being verbose as all hell and don’t want to beat around the bush about the core update. Also worth noting this is a slightly edited copy+paste of a public post available on my Patreon. But tumblr hates links so... Anyway, onward!

Transitioning out of this job is something I’ve wanted to do for a while; it has been taking a great toll on me (multiple repetitive stress injuries a year, constant financial stress, and a huge amount of burnout), so I’ve been investigating other job opportunities for the last six months. I’ve finally found one I’m satisfied with in the form of a full-time remote position that I’ll be starting on July 11th.

I know this is a bit short notice – after all, the 11th is a little under two weeks away – but I didn’t want to make any grand announcements until this change was 100% locked in. Now it is, I wanted to provide some closure for the many, many incredible people who have been supporting me for so long. I also want to outline what will be happening with Patreon, any possible commission openings in future, and my art going forward.

I’ll split this into sections for easy reading: what I’ll be doing in the lead-up to the 11th (The Final Days), my plans for patreon/commissions (Art for You), what I want to do about art in future (Art for Me), and finally some words for my regulars/patrons (Many Thanks).

THE FINAL DAYS

As many of you are probably aware, I still have multiple commissions in my queue and some Patreon rewards to finish. I am also currently dealing with another RSI flare and my usual back problems. I had hoped to finish most of these in the past week, but I know all too well to not push myself when I’m in this state.

So! My tentative plans are: use this week to finish the Patreon pieces and stream them if needed to inspire increased productivity. Then use the remaining week to crack down on the commissions sitting in my queue. It is possible I will run over both of these deadlines due to my RSI flare, which I’ll discuss with those I’m working for right now. Please keep an eye on your messages/email if this is you!

ART FOR YOU

After finishing the commissions in my queue I will be closed permanently for commissions. It may happen that I’ll do the occasional paid piece here and there at my whims, but I have no plans to open regularly or publicly.

As for Patreon, this is something I want to discuss with my patrons. I think I’d like to keep it open as-is at least until the end of the year, but what I do after that is very open. I’m also not entirely sure how much time I’ll have a month to do rewards, so I will likely limit reward slots to 3-5 a month. This is a very ‘play it by ear’ situation.

Again, all of this will be discussed with my patrons – via the discord server and through the most recent post on my Patreon (sorry no link bc tumblr etc), if you aren’t in said server. Please give me your thoughts and input, you all have supported me through a lot of tough times and I really cannot express my gratitude enough.

ART FOR ME

You may be asking yourself, ‘Birov are you just not going to draw anymore?’ The answer is… I’ll probably always draw. Art has been the love of my life for years upon years. As much as I’ve struggled with burnout for the last three, I know I’ll never stop drawing permanently. The only uncertainty is how much I’ll be drawing.

My theory is that I’ll probably draw very little for the first few months while my brain resets and realizes art is something I can do for fun and isn’t just my job. After this period, I have the feeling I’ll be drawing a lot more than I currently do.

But who knows! I do know I have a lot of personal art endeavors I’d like to undertake and having a clearer work/life balance may actually encourage me to undertake them. I also want to get more into drawing for-fun fanart… The world is my oyster I suppose.

So the answer to this really is… I don’t know how much or what I’ll be drawing once I start this job. But I do know I’ll keep sharing whatever I do make with everyone. I just hope you’ll continue supporting me wherever my whims take me!

MANY THANKS

I’m not really sure how to start this section… I have a lot of very intense and deep-seated emotions about the overwhelming support I’ve received in the years I’ve worked as an artist. I’ve been so, so fucking blessed; I’ve worked with almost exclusively kind clients, grown a very tight and kind community, and been given so much love I literally cannot pay it all back.

To my beloved regular commissioners: as I said, I’ve been blessed to almost exclusively work with kind people, and you guys are the core of that. So many of you have been coming back to me year after year, asking after my health with understanding for any delays, and just generally being so good to me in so many untold ways. Thank you for trusting me time and time again to make your imagination reality. It was an honor of the highest order.

To my dear patrons: many of you fall into the previous bracket, but even if you don’t, you’ve all been taking such good care of me. Without Patreon, I would have been in such dire financial straits – especially with all of my health problems. Having both the financial security and the community y’all provided me with was seriously so life changing. Thank you for always telling me to rest, for working with me to create a system we all enjoyed, and most of all for being kind to each other as well as me. I owe you all so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you <3

To my followers (new and old, though some of you have been with me for OVER TEN YEARS!!): I wouldn’t be here without you. I can’t believe how many versions of me and my art you’ve all played witness to. Thank you for loving all (or almost all?) of them. I hope you’ll love where I go next.

So… That’s the end of it. Goodbye to Birov-the-Freelancer (for now, possibly forever). Thank you all again. I’m saying it a lot, but it truly is all I can do as I look back at my many years as a commission artist. I was lucky, is all I can think. It would be stupid on my part to not be insanely grateful.

Thus, for the final time: thank you for supporting me, loving my work, and being so good to me. And thank you for reading this incredibly long post. It’s kind of dramatic but I won’t lie, this feels like an insanely huge change in my life. I honestly at points never thought I’d do anything else but this. Forever. So forgive me the theatrics. Plus, it’s just my nature.

Anyway, I’ll end it here before I ramble anymore.

– Birov <3

#birov talks #a long ass update thank you sorry its a nightmare in length

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agentofship · 1 year

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I posted 308 times in 2022

31 posts created (10%)

277 posts reblogged (90%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@bughead-bones

@2minutes2midnight

@valentinaonthemoon

@libbyweasley

@springmagpies

I tagged 292 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#fitzsimmons - 83 posts

#<3 - 59 posts

#fic rec - 30 posts

#leo fitz - 21 posts

#agents of shield - 17 posts

#jemma simmons - 16 posts

#fitzsimmons fic - 15 posts

#iain de caestecker - 13 posts

#alternate universe - 12 posts

#agents of shield fic - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 120 characters

#love it when translation is actually smart like that and doesn't just stupidly translate something that's not gonna work

My Top Posts in 2022:

See the full post

27 notes - Posted November 23, 2022

Just for the Night, chapter 2/2

FitzSimmons, rated M, 7900 words Summary: Bringing home her cute new colleague for the night sounded like a good idea to Jemma Simmons. He's cute and a fantastic kisser, just what she needed to relieve the stress of spending Christmas with her whole family. She just hadn't planned that she would end up snowed in with her one-night stand AND her family for Christmas.

Once more, happy Christmas Libby <3 "I'm so sorry, they weren't supposed to be here until much later!" she whispered as she closed the door behind herself and leaned back against it as if someone might burst through it anytime. "I know, you said so but I bet they wanted to avoid--" "The snow, yeah. My mum tried to call but my phone was in the living room. I probably wouldn't have heard it anyway, I slept like the dead last night." Fitz smiled at that and there was something so sweet in a way that she didn't tell him the orgasms weren't the only responsible. Even though he'd greatly contributed to the short-lived state of relaxation she'd felt that morning, she'd been exhausted for weeks. "Anyway, the road's closed so--" His lips pressed against hers softly, taking her by surprise. She was busy panicking about the whole situation, how dare he interrupted her like that? But then, his arms wrapped around her waist, impossibly warm, and Jemma melted into the embrace with a slight whine. Maybe she should have gone and talked to him weeks ago. She might have brought him home to her London flat and gotten the opportunity to enjoy his affection longer without being interrupted in the worst possible way. "Good morning," he said, eyes and tone equally soft when he pulled back.

Continue reading on AO3

29 notes - Posted January 8, 2022

Finally finished this portrait of Fitz/Iain from the wedding scene in 5x12 <3 It had been a while since I drew him and I’m pretty happy with the result! Done in watercolor and color pencils! Commissions open for this type of portrait or digital ones, more details via DM :) REDBUBBLE / ETSY

33 notes - Posted December 4, 2022

It Was All Make-Believe

FitzSimmons, rated T, 2609 words (for now) Chapter 1/6 @libbyweasley and I are very excited to finally start posting this fic we've been working on for months based on Libby's original idea. The fic is all written and a new chapter will be posted every week. I've written three chapters from Jemma's POV and Libby has written all chapters from Fitz's POV. Hope you enjoy :) Summary: Fitz and Jemma go undercover as a couple and discover it isn’t as difficult as they’d thought it would be. But what happens when those feelings become a little too real? Season 1 AU They all moved to the briefing room, May and Ward looking as awake and ready as ever. Fitz, not so much.

"Didn't even have time for breakfast," he grumbled as he took his place next to Jemma. "Why do these always have to be so early?" Jemma shook her head and pressed the second mug of tea she was holding into his hand. "Oh thank you." He took a sip and his face turned a little less grumpy for a second. "Maybe the problem is that you stayed up working in the lab so late," Jemma pointed out and he huffed. "You're one to talk!" "But I can function on five hours of sleep, you obviously can't." If his still only half open eyes and messy curls weren't enough to prove her point, Jemma reached out to straighten his collar. "That's because he's still growing!" Skye tousled his hair as she walked past him to take her place in the briefing room.

Continue reading on AO3

41 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

It had been a while since I’ve worked on a Liz/Jemma art :) (Based on that gorgeous Liz photoshoot I’m planning I’ve done this one using both color pencils and watercolor and I’m thoroughly enjoying it. I’m currently open for commissions (both traditional and digital fanart). Send me a DM to know more :)

44 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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stardewlily · 7 months

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Thank you so much to @potatoaiisle for this beautiful commission of Seb & Lily. I absolutely adore this, all the little details make it so perfect - the sparkle on the mermaid pendant, the rays of light through the window, the sweet expressions on their faces. This picture makes me so happy... eeeee :)

Please check out her commission info on her blog. She really is an amazing artist and a totally lovely person. Without her constant encouragement I would not only never have posted any of my stories, I would probably also have deleted my entire account many times over. So thanks for that too!

I wrote a ficlet to go with this picture, which you can read under the cut. It's just a short scenario from when they are married in the future. There is some implied sexual content but nothing graphic, still, please only read on if you're okay with that.

A Husband's Duties

Sebastian sighed as he checked his work for the second time. This was always the worst part about coding, going through all the lines afterwards. To be honest, it was amazing he didn't get more headaches than he did, he was sure he was going to end up needing glasses before he was thirty at this rate.

He heard the bathroom door swing open behind him as he carefully scanned his work.

'That must be Lily,' he thought to himself. 'I should probably call this a day soon and… oh shit, that is a big error right there!'

Muttering under his breath he started to rewrite the offending string only to find himself forced to pause when a cloud of gentle perfume enveloped him as Lily's hip brushed against him, knocking his hand away from his mouse.

"Oh…" her voice was light and airy, suspiciously so. "I'm sorry, Sebby, I wasn't watching where I was going."

A little pause.

He looked up to see her dressed in nothing but a little white shirt, hair tumbling loose down her back just the way he liked it, finger held to her full lips as though deep in thought.

"I think I'm gonna head off to the kitchen and plan out our dinner, okay?"

She sashayed off through the door and Sebastian smiled indulgently after her, quickly saved his work and climbed to his feet.

He knew his wife well enough by now to know when she wanted attention.

Sebastian walked into the kitchen to find Lily kneeling on the ground in front of the big picture window filling Nyx's food bowl and petting the effusively grateful feline as she did so. He padded softly behind her as she rose upright and slipped his arms around her waist.

"You look gorgeous in nothing but that shirt, baby," he whispered into her ear.

He lifted her hair and started to lay soft kisses along her neck, felt her shiver in his grasp, his own body quickly responding to her.

"Sebby…" she murmured his name and he allowed himself a few more moments to slowly undo all her buttons before spinning her around, wrapping his arms back around her waist and pulling her firmly against him.

"Did you wear this just to get my attention?" he purred, letting his mouth hover close to hers, teasing her with the lightest touch of his lips.

She let out a quavering sigh, sliding her hands up his chest, tugging at the neck of his shirt with her fingers.

"Maybe..."

Her lips sought his and he finally took pity on her and kissed her deep and long, letting his tongue slide gently inside her mouth, pulling her even closer against him, loving the little moan she made when she felt him hard against her.

"Well, it worked," he moved his head back and grinned mischievously. "Now, the question is... are you prepared to face the consequences?"

"What…?" she gazed up at him, eyes glazed with desire and puzzlement then let out a little shriek as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

"Time to take my wife to bed," he laughed. "I can't be neglecting my husbandly duties, now can I?"

Lily giggled and clutched at him as he carried her into their bedroom where he spent the next few hours performing his duties in a more than admirable fashion.

~The End~

Cute little page dividers by @chachachannah / Boring old plain green ones by me!

#stardew valley sebastian fanart #sdv sebastian fanart #stardew valley oc #sdv oc #stardew valley sebastian #sdv sebastian #stardew valley fanfic #sdv fanfic #stardew valley sebastian fanfic #sdv sebastian fanfic #stardew valley fanfiction #sdv fanfiction #stardew valley sebastian fanfiction #sdv sebastian fanfiction #seb x lily #commissioned art

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centaurworks · 1 year

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I posted 244 times in 2022

That's 198 more posts than 2021!

100 posts created (41%)

144 posts reblogged (59%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@pureiceblue

@constellor

@krunkidile

@oc-a-day

I tagged 210 of my posts in 2022

Only 14% of my posts had no tags

#oc - 85 posts

#original character - 79 posts

#art - 60 posts

#tgcart - 58 posts

#anime - 58 posts

#artwork - 57 posts

#digital artwork - 54 posts

#anime style - 54 posts

#anime art style - 54 posts

#art 2022 - 54 posts

Longest Tag: 40 characters

#you're probably wondering how i got here

My Top Posts in 2022:

Suzume of the Stars

Commissions Open I have a Ko-Fi Social Medias Art & Character (Claudia Synderson) © @CentaurWorks There are times when a genie can feel disconnected from their life and the magical world around them; and that has happened to Claudia as well. Some feel a closer connection to the goddess by belly dancing, a tradition started by the first Ancient Genie to reconnect with the goddess. For Claudia, it is to rekindle her genie side in a healthy way, to feel relieved and calm under all the scars. And as she dances, the stars around her join Synderson in her graceful waves. This felt like a long time coming. Not just an Old WIP that started at the beginning of the year, but one that has started and stopped several times, and now it is done and came out so beautifully. It ended up really clicking for me when I ended up listening to Suzume (feat. Toaka) by RADWIMPS. Combine that with the relationship to Genies and space in my lore, plus me being a fan of space, everything soon clicked and I can't be happier with the beautiful end result! Hope you like it! :D

3 notes - Posted December 17, 2022

Christmas Night Flight

Commissions Open I have a Ko-Fi Social Medias Art & Character (Cynthia Chuseio, Peyton De Zine) © @CentaurWorks Merry Christmas to all! I wanted to make a picture to celebrate the holiday and I'm delighted with how it came out. Of course, I added the Christmas Centaur into the image as well as an inclusion from the 2021 winner of the OC Ballot: Cynthia Chuseio. I might have been overboard with the snow but I still love it. I also wanted to create a special border for the occasion as well. Hope you like it and Merry Christmas to all! :D

5 notes - Posted December 24, 2022

So I found some fan translations of Mermaid Melody Aqua, the sequel to the manga/anime series that got me into anime and... it's meh, and occasionally bad. I get that's it's for a certain demographic, but I also wish that the series could have grown up as well.

A lot of it feels like back-tracking, remember-berries, and even irritating. Probably if I went back and read it, I would feel the same about the OG. And don't get me wrong, it's not bad, it's not Vampire Knight, it's not even Mermaid Boys, but it also could be better.

See the full post

6 notes - Posted December 6, 2022

2011 ⏩ 2022

You'll never know when you'll start, but I'm thankful I kept on creating.

7 notes - Posted December 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Thank You, Dragalia

Commissions Open I have a Ko-Fi Social Medias Art © @CentaurWorks All characters in the image belong to Cygames/Nintendo It's hard to realize that this game is nearing the end of its life and I'm sad to see it go. Dragalia Lost was one of the first mobile games I ever played, and the one that made me realize that mobile games weren't always about getting money out of your wallet. I fell in love with the characters and story but had to put it down due to IRL matters. I wanted to stream it but could not easily do so thanks to multiple elements. In the end, though, I will still hold this game close to my heart; this piece is to thank the developers who helped create this fantastic world and the stories that came from it. I hope you like it and for what may be the final time, Thank you, Dragalia.

11 notes - Posted November 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

0 notes

skiyoosmi · 3 years

Text

post-break up heartaches

verse 3. in the warmth of your love and the comfort of your touch

⤷ sakusa kiyoomi, miya atsumu

⤷ verse 1 | verse 2

⤷ play. i'll be fine somehow by benjamin ingrosso, remember the mornings by clinton kane

commissions: open

⇢ SAKUSA was hardly a believer of gods, firm with following his principles of crediting only the existence of things he can see with his own eyes. he detested myths, fairytales, anything that is far from reality. he thinks they're foolish; you thought otherwise— you adored anything that had something to do fiction, always finding the comfort of it being an escape from the harsh world you live in. it was the very same reason why the living room of the apartment you used to share with him was filled with shelves, full of books that you've read countless times but never got tired of them.

he heaves a sigh as he enters the apartment, shoulders drooping because like any other day, he is met by nothing but silence. his figure stops by the doorway leading to the said living room, eyes scanning the said area with a profound longing swimming in them. he imagines you standing there, bright orbs that were full of wonder looking up the shelves that were much taller than you, in a dilemma because you have no idea what you wanted to read next. and then you'll probably sense his presence because you'll soon turn your head to his direction, giving him a beautiful smile that somehow lifts his mood up. you always felt him, you've always felt everything for him.

"welcome home, kiyoomi."

he feels his heart becoming heavier because after a few seconds, he's pulled back to the reality. you were gone... you weren't coming back and it's all because of him.

"let's get divorce, yn. i... don't feel anything anymore."

he wonders what made him think that way, because his present state was obviously the exact opposite of what has been said to you. regret pools even in the deepest pits of his stomach as he remembers it all— the dinners you prepared with only care and love for him in your mind, his monotonous voice as he spoke those words oh so carelessly, your failed attempts of giving him an understanding smile, only for your lips to wobble as you held in your cries,

i understand, kiyoomi... j-just send me the papers and i-i'll sign them as soon as possible.

the doorbell brings him back from his trail of thoughts, a small light of hope ignited within him that maybe... just maybe it's you. to his disappointment, he's faced by a delivery man, a brown envelope being held out to him, "mr. sakusa kiyoomi?"

he nods, cautiously taking the said object and signing some papers before coming back to the darkness of his house. carefully, he tears it open, his insides slowly but surely becoming twisted altogether as he takes out the contents of the envelope.

hello kiyoomi, you weren't sending any document to me so i took the initiative to get the divorce papers. i guess you're still busy with work so that's understandable. i signed it. i don't want to hold you back from your happiness so yeah, this is it. i... i just want to thank you for making me feel so many things for all the years. it was a pleasure being your wife. it might be a bit overbearing but keep in mind that i'll always love you, my feelings... they're all for you, no matter how many years may pass. goodbye.

sakusa was hardly a believer of gods... but as his hands clutch the diamond ring you once wore close to his chest, he begins to pray to all of them— to give him the power to turn back time, to undo the agony and pain he gave you, to let him see your smile once more, to give you each and every bit of his feelings again—

but like any other day, he is met by nothing but silence.

⇢ ATSUMU furrows his eyebrows together due to the sudden ringing of his doorbell because as far as he can remember, he wasn't supposed to have any guests today. he had already planned to sulk his day off away by watching some sappy dramas and movies, your favorite ones— so who in the world decided to break his agenda?

he huffs, placing the remote he was previously holding on the coffee table, and stands up, footsteps heavy as he trudges towards the door, eyes widening when he sees you through the peephole. he swears he's never opened the front door so fast, "yn!"

his heart quickly thumps against his chest as he takes in your form; despite the slightly visible bags under your eyes (he thinks it's due to you overworking as usual— he hopes it's because you're thinking of him the way he thinks of you), you shone bright like every single day that passed and he can't help but wonder what made him think of letting you go that night. i can find someone better than you, someone who won't bother me every fucking second just because they're so needy for attention, his words echo in his head.

he tries to give you a strained smile, cringing internally as he looks right into your eyes that held nothing but pure anger and disappointment for him, "we're not friends, atsumu. not anymore so drop the friendly act."

you walk past him and heads straight to the painfully familiar bedroom, ignoring the rushing footsteps behind you, along with the quiet begging that escapes his mouth, "i love you, yn. i'm sorry, please."

"i'm just here to get my things, not make amends with you and our relationship," you reply, harshly swallowing the vile feeling that attempts to get out of your throat, "i... i just... i know love isn't supposed ask for something back... but don't you think it was too one-sided considering we're in a relationship, tsumu? i barely see you and talk to you without you feeling all bothered and annoyed. i get it, you're tired... but i am not a punching bag, you don't get to take it out on me every single time you come home."

you take a deep breath, cursing because this was not in any of your plans for today. shoving the last pieces of your remaining things as quick as possible and slinging your bag over your shoulder, you take one last look at the room you once found comfort in, only feeling your heart clench because this same scenario was exactly what happened on your last night here— same break up scenario, same hearts aching, same atsumu looking at you regretfully, same hand that reaches out for you as you both stand by the doorway.

"stay... please. i can't do this without you," he croaks out, the grip on your wrist tightening because he's terrified, scared to let you go, scared that you slip out of his hold and never return.

you don't reply for a moment, not even sparing him a glance, before removing his hand, "i'll... give you a call... maybe... maybe not... i don't know."

you know you'll never do. you think he knows that too— still, he holds onto the hope your words provided him.

but no calls came despite him waiting until past midnight and as he lied on his bed, chest contracting due to the pain his heart feels, he chokes out a pathetic laugh,

so this is what you felt like when i broke countless promises that i made to you, huh, yn?

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa headcanons #atsumu headcanons #haikyuu angst #haikyuu writings #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #post break-up heartaches

710 notes · View notes

pftones3482 · 3 years

Text

Sometimes Stupid

Commission for @randomfandomfan from one of their many prompts they gave me. Took forever bc of work and life and also???? Now I have a cat??? So that's fun. But this was fun to write. Read it here on AO3

Set post TLO and pre HOO (and a little bit post HOO). Under a cut for length.

Contrary to popular belief, Leo Valdez was not stupid.

He was an idiot, at times – for instance, maybe running away from his seventh (fifteenth? He’d really lost track at this point) foster home wasn’t the best decision he could have made, especially given that it was the middle of summer and oh, also, hurricane season. And okay, maybe he should’ve taken more with him than a single change of clothes, a box of Ritz crackers, a pocketknife, and a water bottle that had definitely seen better days, but he was in a rush, okay?

But he wasn’t stupid.

When he ran away from his foster homes, Leo tended to stay away from people where he could. And if he had to be around them, he cleaned up, smiled brightly, “Yes ma’am”ed and “Yes’sir”ed to an obnoxious point, and lied his pants off. People were less likely to call the police on a Hispanic kid if they thought he was just a darling little angel waiting for mom at the grocery store, and the last thing he needed was the cops in his business.

Not that it hadn’t happened, of course. He’d dealt with cops of all kinds – nice cops, bad cops, black cops, white cops (WAY too many of those, in his opinion), the occasional cop who would speak Spanish with him, cops who were just there to write a report and move on with their days – cops.

He tried to stay away from them.

Which meant sticking to beaches and forests, lakes and campgrounds, middle of nowhere places with no people for miles. Leo was good at disappearing. Hiding.

But there were always times when he needed an adult. When he needed to hitchhike, or when he needed food to the point of near passing out. Once for serious medical attention. There was a system to what adults you could trust.

Never cops. You could never trust the cops, no matter what naïve white parents thought. Leo had been in cuffs enough to know that was false.

You also couldn’t usually trust priests. They meant well, sure, but they always ended up calling the authorities in the end. That, or they tried to convert Leo to Catholicism, and while one of those encounters had ended with a swiped bottle of watered-down red wine and a night that made him vow to never drink again, he wasn’t trying to contact the church.

(THAT night, Leo would say he had been stupid. He could admit that)

Homeless people were usually okay. While a lot of them were very suspicious of everyone, almost every homeless person he’d ever met would point him in the direction of food, water, free showers, free clothes, or a library (his saving grace during the heat of the summer and the cold of the winter). The times when he came across gay homeless people were when he felt safest – they especially never pressed him about his background. Ironic, really, that he felt safer with strangers on the street than his foster homes.

Moms were sometimes okay. Especially if they were Hispanic, or black, or just anything but white. They, at least, wouldn’t call the cops on him. But they were also hit or miss – sometimes they helped in way of a meal, or a new bottle of water. One mom even took him to the store and got him new socks and underwear (he had cried that night). But other moms rushed him away from their precious babies. Some moms called him ungrateful for the “space he had.”

Dads were a never. Leo never went to men if he could help it, even if they had children with them. He didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them, and that wasn’t very far.

But it was hurricane season. And he was on the coast. And it was downpouring, and he was starving, and the only people he had seen for miles were a white couple, a man and a woman, standing on the porch of a somewhat rundown shack that Leo would’ve probably thought was abandoned if he hadn’t seen them there.

The man was tall, peppered hair that was shifting more to salt, with a rough beard and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. The woman at his side was short, probably Leo’s height, with dark curly hair and vibrantly blue eyes. It was streaked with gray, but she was, admittedly, a very pretty woman. Something about her smile put Leo at ease.

He clutched his backpack tighter in his fist and stumbled over the sand towards the shack, ankles rolling uncomfortably on the wet ground. He was sure he looked atrocious, sure that the moment they spotted him, they’d shriek and cuss him out and lock the door.

But then he coughed, hard, his shoulders shaking, and the woman whipped her head around. He watched her eyes widen, watched her tug at the man’s sleeve, and then she was bolting – barefoot, Leo noticed – down the steps and over to him.

He flinched when she wrapped an arm over his shoulders, jolting out of her grip more from habit than anything else. She froze, holding both hands up and relaxing her stance. “Hey, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Somewhere deep down, Leo’s brain was scoffing at the patronizing words. But on the surface, he focused on the words, and then sharpened his eyes onto the man as he approached, phone in hand. “I-I c-can’t-”

The woman looked back, down at the phone, and her shoulders stiffened. “Paul, put the phone away, please.”

Her voice held an intonation that Leo couldn’t decipher, but the man – Paul – instantly shut the phone off and pocketed it. The moment it was gone, Leo let his shoulders loosen, and he looked at the woman anxiously. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I-I just…”

“Hey.”

Her arm was more cautious this time, sliding around Leo’s shoulders with a pace that would let him move if he wanted. He didn’t, just let it happen, and then the woman was easing him over the sticky sand and up the steps of the shack, Paul close behind them. He stopped at the door, pushing back hard against the woman’s guiding grip. “I don’t want to ruin your house,” he managed.

The woman’s laugh was…well, to be perfectly honest, it made Leo feel warm. Like she could never hurt him.

Those are usually the most dangerous people, his mind tried to reason with him.

“Sweetheart, it’s just a rental cabin. Besides, I’ve had far worse than a little sand and water on my floors before.”

Before he could wonder at that sentence, she opened the door and nudged him inside. The second that Paul closed the door, the sound of the wind died down and the chill in the air evaporated. Leo realized he was shivering.

The woman’s hands were warm on his cheeks. “My name is Sally, hon. You are-?”

He usually gave a fake name, but – “Leo, ma’am.”

“Don’t you ma’am me,” she scoffed, her voice easy as she helped Leo to the couch. “I’m not that old, am I Paul?”

Paul put his hands up. “I abstain from answering.”

Sally scoffed and pressed a cool hand on Leo’s forehead. “Can I take your backpack, sweetheart?”

Something like panic flared in Leo’s chest, and Sally must have seen it, because she pulled her hand back and held it up. “I’m not moving it far, I just want Paul to dry everything out for you, okay?”

Fingers shaking, Leo shrugged off his bag – the one he’d been carrying for nearly three states – and passed it over to her. She took it like it was a priceless artifact, and handed it to Paul with more tenderness than Leo had ever seen given to an inanimate object. “I think my son might have left some clothes here while he was with us last week,” she said, voice soft. “He’s a little older than you, so some things might be big, but is it okay if we give you some of his clothes while we dry out yours?”

Leo swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Um. Yeah.”

She stood up and left with Paul, giving Leo a moment to be alone and take in the cabin around him.

It was old, but obviously well taken care of, with weathered planks of wood gracing the walls and the floor. He was in the living room, full of mismatched couches and chairs and a bookshelf stacked full of books and games. He didn’t see a TV in sight, but he wasn’t expecting to find one. He stood shakily, suddenly very aware of how wet he was getting the couch, and wrapped his arms around himself as he explored the rest of the main room.

The kitchen was small and cramped, but he could smell something full of tomatoes and spices in the oven that made his tastebuds water. He didn’t dare look for fear of getting caught, so he stepped away and into the tiny dining area. There was sand on the floor, spread thin and fine, and it was such a small thing, but it made Leo relax even more – Sally meant it when she said she didn’t care about him ruining her floors.

But she and Paul had been gone for a while, and Leo wasn’t stupid, okay? It didn’t matter how well intentioned someone was, they always thought they knew better, and if they were gone too long, it meant they were trying to decide for him. So he crept towards the hallway they’d vanished to, praying that he didn’t step on a squeaky board. Old homes always had them in the most inconvenient places.

“-not answering?” he picked up Paul’s voice saying.

“No,” Sally said, a sigh in her voice. “He did say he and Annabeth were on a date, but I didn’t expect them to be in Paris of all places. How did they even-?”

“Can you get ahold of Chiron?”

Not the police, then, Leo reasoned, unless they knew an officer by that name. He leaned a little closer.

“No – I try not to call the camp unless I need to. Phone lines and all that, you know?”

Paul huffed. “I know. And Rachel is at art camp, right?”

“Yup,” Sally said, and Leo heard a sound like a blowing raspberry. “He clearly isn’t aware of anything, Paul. He’s terrified.”

“Probably a runaway,” Paul hummed, and Leo flinched at the damning statement. “Met a couple kids like that teaching.”

He looked like a teacher. You couldn’t trust most teachers either, Leo had learned. They were just like priests. Tried their best, but they always inevitably called someone.

“What did you do? Who did you call?” Sally asked, and Leo stiffened. Here it comes, his brain taunted.

“No one,” Paul said.

Leo blinked, taking a slight step back. What?

“Kids don’t run away for no reason, Sal. Especially not kids like him. Perce taught me that. I mean, maybe in my early days of teaching, I might have called the authorities, but ever since this summer I…how could I risk that? Even before then, I mean…the stories I’ve heard from some of these kids I’ve talked to. We don’t know anything about him. If he ran away, all this way, in this weather? It was bad, love.”

Leo’s throat ached.

He’d never, the whole time he’d been in foster care, ever heard an adult admit that they were wrong to call the authorities on him. Never heard an adult take his perspective into account, especially without even knowing him. Never had an adult admit that his life could be anything other than ideal.

He took another step back and oh shit, there it was, the cursed piece of wood in every old house to ever exist. He cussed under his breath and ducked his head as Sally stepped into the hallway. He refused to look up at her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You were just gone for a while a-and I thought you might be calling someone.”

No verbal response. Instead, a soft bundle of fabric was pressed into Leo’s hands. He startled, gripping onto the clothing, and looked up at Sally and Paul with wide eyes. Paul shook his head. “We’re not calling anyone, son. Not if you don’t want us to. But we do ask that you get cleaned up, before you catch pneumonia.”

Sally tilted her head towards the door across the hall. “Let me know when you’re done, I’ll toss your clothes in the dryer. Paul was just finishing up dinner when you came along. Do you like lasagna?”

Leo’s mouth watered at the thought of eating any kind of food that wasn’t stale crackers and canned tuna. “Yes ma’am.”

“What’d I say about that ma’am nonsense?” Sally scolded.

Leo ducked his head, trying to press down the tears. “Yes, miss,” he chuckled.

Sally laughed as Paul headed for the kitchen. “It’s a start, love.”

Sally’s son’s clothes were soft, well loved. They smelled like sea water and lavender detergent, and though the t-shirt was a gaudy orange with letters so faded that Leo couldn’t read them, he sank into the fabric with a sigh. Sally had also passed him a pair of sweatpants, and Leo hoped that her son wouldn’t be mad if he ever found out that some random foster kid had borrowed them.

If he was anything like Sally, though, Leo had the feeling he’d like him.

His hair was still wet, but this time from a shower, and Leo couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten to stand under an actual stream of hot water without people literally timing him to make sure he didn’t take too long. He stood in front of the mirror, sighing a little at how skinny he’d gotten. He’d always been small – being skinny only made him more of a punching bag for the bigger foster kids. His hair, untamed from weeks of running, hung in his eyes, and he wondered briefly if Sally might have a hair tie he could borrow.

He left the bathroom and crept into the dining room, where Sally was setting the table and Paul was pulling one of the most beautiful lasagnas he’d ever seen out of the oven.

“-texted me, said they’d be back tomorrow morning. He offered to come back sooner,” Sally was saying as Leo stood in the doorway, “but I know he and ‘beth haven’t really gotten to go on any non-monstrous dates recently.”

She blinked when she saw him standing there, and her smile softened into something warm and inviting. “Come on, hon. Paul was just getting dinner out.”

Maybe it was the malnourishment, or Paul’s cooking skills, or Leo’s exhaustion, or a combination of the three, but Leo had never tasted such good Italian food in his life. He downed one, two, three pieces and a full salad before he finally slowed down. To his relief, neither Paul nor Sally gave him any grief about how many pieces he took. Honestly, he thought he watched Paul actively make his slices bigger than theirs.

They’d clearly been talking about their son when he came in the room. This guy was in Paris, on a date with his girlfriend, and he was coming back tomorrow. Leo wondered just how rich this family was – the dad was a teacher, but Sally hadn’t said what she did, and Leo was a little afraid to ask.

When Paul brought out a pie for dessert, Leo almost cried. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any dessert fancier than a stolen Ding Dong from a corner store. Paul definitely gave him a larger slice than them, and as he ate it, Sally poked at her own pie.

“Leo, we’re not going to pry,” she started, gentle. “Your story is yours, and I know how tricky it can be to share yourself and your past with new people.”

The sad smile Paul shot her didn’t go unnoticed by Leo, and he internally bristled at the thought that this wonderful mom in front of him could understand anything about how he felt, because that meant that she’d gone through shit she didn’t deserve. He said nothing, though, just nodded.

Sally eyed her pie thoughtfully, stabbing a blackberry that had escaped the crust. “But I feel like…well, I feel as though my son especially can relate to how you’re feeling, or at least some of it. If you’d be willing to wait for him to come home, maybe we can figure some things out together.”

Leo felt lost. He’d been lost a lot before, but this was the first time it was mental and not physical. “What?”

Sally looked up, seeming to realize that she’d baffled him. “I mean…”

She looked at Paul, and Leo looked between the two of them, tightening his grip on his fork. They were having a silent conversation. Leo hated when adults did that. “You mean you want to wait until I’m asleep so you can call the cops o-or foster services or-or just wait until your son gets back so he can tell me to get out.”

He shoved his chair back from the table, tears prickling at his eyes. Every time. Every time. He always got his hopes up, always thought he’d found the perfect people, people who got it, and every fucking time, he-

Hands settled on his shoulders, and he ripped away, scowling at Sally. Her eyes were sad, and Leo felt an unwelcome stab of guilt in his chest. “That is not what we were suggesting, ever, honey. I would never call foster services, first of all. They’re atrocious, especially for kids of color.”

Leo jolted back. He’d never had a white woman actively acknowledge his race so bluntly before – it was usually partnered with some demeaning comment about “his kind” of people. He eyed Sally warily.

She lowered her hands, keeping them on her hips where he could see them. “Second, I’d never call the police either. You’re not a problem, and my son has had enough unfortunate encounters with them for me to…distrust them severely, to say the least.”

Her son had-?

“I just…we know a place. Where you would genuinely be safe, hon. No foster homes, no cops, with people who get it.”

She was lying. She had to be lying, no matter what Leo’s heart said. But she wasn’t going to let this go, and he knew it. So he sighed, fidgeted with his fingers. He wished he had something to build. “Okay. I’ll wait for your son to get home.”

Sally relaxed, and Leo gave her a thin smile.

He helped her and Paul clean up the kitchen, put away the leftover lasagna. Sat with them and did a puzzle, played a game of Clue with them. Fixed their radio for them, much to their surprise, and then watched with a small smile on his face as Paul and Sally danced around the living room together. They tried to get him to join, but he’d never been much of a dancer, so he declined.

They bid him goodnight around 11, and he shut the door of their son’s room, let the hours tick on.

At three am, he got up, changed back into his own clothes, left the borrowed ones folded neatly on the foot of the bed. He took a flashlight from the bedside table and slid it into his backpack, stepped out of the bedroom and avoided the squeaky floorboard.

The tool kit from fixing the radio was still on the coffee table, and he picked it up with only the slightest feelings of guilt. Went through the cabinets and pulled out sleeves of crackers, a box of granola, eyed the leftover lasagna with a sad gaze. He found a roll of toilet paper under the sink, a bottle of hand sanitizer in a junk drawer.

He paused by the game of Clue, left out on the table from their match, and let his fingers trace over it sadly. His gut screamed at him to leave. His heart screamed at him to stay. He wasn’t stupid.

Leo had always trusted his gut.

He pocketed the candlestick piece and turned for the door, flinching the second his eyes landed on Sally.

Her hair was done up in a braid, her pajamas wrinkled, and the moon shining through the window reflected the sadness in her eyes. Leo opened his mouth, but couldn’t find it in him to speak – the lump was back.

She stepped forward and he shut his eyes, expecting a lecture. Instead, her hand cupped his cheek. Her other hand pressed into his, and he gasped as he felt the telltale touch of money in his fingers. He looked down at the wad of cash – he couldn’t see how much it was, but he knew that he didn’t deserve it. He looked up at her, panicking. “I can’t-”

“Stay, I know,” she whispered, and that wasn’t what he’d been planning to say, and he knew that she knew that. “I understand, Leo. I understand, sweetie.”

The sob slipped out before he could stop it, and Sally’s eyes softened. She bent at the hip, pressing a soft kiss to his curls. “When you end up meeting my son,” she murmured, “come visit, okay?”

Leo had no idea what that meant, but he nodded, if only to appease her. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Nothing to be sorry for, honey. Be safe.”

Sally watched him go, watched him shut the door behind him, and he looked down at the money in his hands with a choked feeling in his chest. It was more than he’d held in his entire life. He couldn’t take it, but he knew she’d be upset if he didn’t. And if there was one thing Leo refused to do, it was make Sally more upset than he already had.

So he pocketed it and, with an aching heart, stepped off the porch of the cabin. The storm from earlier had died down, and, fingers tight on his backpack straps, he started making his way up the beach.

Percy was bouncing up and down at the entrance to Camp Half Blood, fingers curled around Annabeth’s hand. “Do I look okay?” he asked for probably the thousandth time that morning.

Piper rolled her eyes. “Percy, it’s your mom. She doesn’t care what you look like.”

Percy shot her a mock glare. “I haven’t seen her in over a year, McClean, sue me.”

“You look fine, Perce,” Annabeth laughed, kissing his cheek. “She’s gonna mostly care that you’re alive.”

“Okay but this tattoo-”

“Sorry, you vanished on me for over a year, crossed the globe, and you got a TATTOO?” came a very scolding, very obviously Mom Voice, and Leo snickered, turning to see who was about to absolutely whoop Percy’s ass.

And he stumbled on his own feet, lips parting as Sally (Sally Jackson, his unhelpful brain mocked) appeared at the top of the hill. Her hair was a little grayer than it had been when Leo met her, her hips a little wider, but her smile was the same, her laugh as Percy launched himself at her the same peal of delight Leo remembered on his toughest nights, and when she caught his eye over Percy’s shoulder, her smile only widened.

Okay, so sometimes Leo Valdez was kind of stupid.

#percy jackson #pjo #leo valdez #heroes of olympus #pjo fanfic #my writing #sally jackson #paul blofis #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo

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aziulpre · 2 years

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COMMISSIONS SHEET

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It just reduce $5~20 USD. The drawings are a bit smaller or poor if have a lot of panels, this option is also good for not paying for an animation (more cheaper and faster).

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Like the comics, if you order a lot you get little discounts!

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The price is similar as Full-body but more expensive because of the design you can use it. If you ask for a normal commission and use my design you have to pay an extra cost because you are not allowed that kind of use.

This is recommended if you want me to design or redesign a character from your descriptions. If you want it for a project, I can imitate or create a new drawing style.

I also design toys so if you want I can add articulation and simplify the designs so that the figures can stand up well and don't break because are too thin.

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You can have a discount if you’re subscribed to the Our Wedding tier (+1 months) on Patreon or you have given me a tip in the past. If you buy a lot of comic pages you get little discounts. If you have been buying commissions from me for a long time, you can get a discount (keep in mind that over time costs can increase). Sometimes the background, elements and extra color is free (it depends a lot on my mood and time), if you have given a tip or if you have been supporting me for a long time or it’s your first commission all this is guaranteed. If you order commissions a lot and you don’t want background, I’ll give you a discount! ($3~$5USD)

Receive around 50% discount in characters total (no extra things incluide)!

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If you want this discount, remember: sometimes I can decline some commissions, the delivery time is longer.

The costs shown are approximate, I can give a higher or lower price (if the commission is difficult, to accept I have to give you a reasonable price, not so low).

My projects, my time and personal expenses are important so some things I can accept and some I can’t (I have a limit of raising money each week to live and currently I have physical problems). Thank you for understanding

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You pay for commission, remember that you can ask me to make any modifications when I'm in the sketch process, big modifications may generate an extra cost, when you confirm the sketch I can no longer make changes (it is possible to do it in color change or specify background or another version).

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Cancellations are not accepted but you can change the commission for one of the same price (if I still don't do a sketch), this because the transactions require "tax/fee" and "currency exchange" so I can't refund that because I don't get that money. Can change a commission for another.

Usually takes 1 day or 1 week to full finish per 1 commission (drawing, animation, comic page or character sheet), remember that due to external problems (or for working on projects) it can take longer (2 week) but I send you previews each 1-2 days. I don’t work on Saturdays and Sundays.

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We can also trade (if it's something I need, like Wish List).

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symphonyofthewrite · 3 years

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If These Walls Could Talk

Freaking GORGEOUS cover art by Junki Sakuraba on Instagram and Deviantart!! Definitely go check him out!! His art is incredible, and from what I can tell he’s really nice dude. He absolutely went above and beyond with this prompt. 10/10 would commission again. (And probably will once I save up enough money XD)

The wonderful art later in the chaper is by niuan_ on instagram!!

It wasn’t made/commissioned for this fic--(though I’ve since commissioned her to make cover art for me, so stay tuned for those!)--but when I saw it I couldn’t believe it!! That’s one of my favorite images in this chapter, and I couldn’t believe another artist made a piece for the same idea independently!!

I'll put the links to their profiles either in the replies or a reblog (since tumblr is dumb about links)!!

Also, FYI, I'll be using this post as my "reblog post" meaning I'll reblog this post with the later chapters of this fic, so they're all in one place. So if you want to read more of this fic, check the reblogs on this post, chances are more chapters will be there!!

Comments and reblogs are MORE than appreciated!! If you have a spare minute you will really make my week, and motivate me to keep writing!!

Fandom: Castlevania Netflix

Summary: Vampires do not have reflections, and castles do not have hearts. But Dracula is no ordinary vampire, and Castlevania is no ordinary castle. If castles can fight, maybe they can think too.

The series, and Adrian’s childhood, told from the perspective of the castle.

Chapter Summary:

“My mother’s name was Lisa, and she was mortal…She actually showed up at his front door. She found the castle and banged the door with the pommel of her knife…She was remarkable. She beat on the door until my father let her in, and then demanded he teach her how to be a doctor.”

Chapter 1: "Lisa”

“Is this how the castle felt to you before my mother first arrived at your door?”

The castle doesn’t like children.

Well, maybe that’s too strong to say. It simply isn’t the place for them. Its existence is a signpost: leave me alone. It is not used to having company—much less a family—inside it, nor is it ready to welcome for a crying, puking, giggling thing into the world. It does not intend to be a cozy place to coddle him into adulthood.

The castle itself pierces the sky, its turrets and towers the dripping stain of the sun’s blood across the moon.

The bare walls hold no colorful tapestries for a child to enjoy, no paintings of its many inhabitants to tell of—for there was only ever one (and maybe that ought not change. It is safe to say the castle doesn’t like change). The royal red and gold carpets are more suited to kings; not designed for spit-up, mud, and scuffing. ‘Don’t play with that’ would be a motto around here; so many contraptions either easy to break, or which could break the child. The fireplaces, while almost always lit, only ever coughed warmth onto the floor before them—they provided no snug space to curl up on a winter’s day. Even the mirrors here are empty, holding nothing but a reflection of the bare walls they sit upon.

There are certain people who were seemingly born as they are; they never owned toys, never crawled on the floor, never walked with clumsy steps—their footfalls were always this calculated count—never burped on their mother’s nice shirts, and surely never had anything so dull as a childhood. They were always just…here, on the world. There was no innocence, and no losing it. So it was with Dracula.

The very thought of Dracula ever owning toys, even in some nice cottage far away from here, with a doting mother and an absent father, with a funny last name like Cronqvist, defied sense to the castle. So no, no toys here, nor any simple charts for learning; the books divulged their secrets to more mature minds. Just blood and books, gold and gears, forgotten magic means, mirrors that reflect nothing, and a pile of prayers to a good God they used to justify their ungood, and ungodly deeds.

All these things—or their absence—do not make for the picture of a baby-proof home.

The castle has grown accustomed to being cold and dark, and listening to one master alone. It’s not a quaint place lovers look on and think we’ll raise our kids here someday.

Its master isn’t the ideal father either—after all, the castle only reflected its king. Its master knows only of blood and nails, fangs and wails, words too big for a child’s mouth, and worlds too dark for a child’s heart.

Can he be soft? Can he be gentle? Can he keep those claws, which have ripped out better men’s hearts, from piercing a child’s—his child’s…how could one who killed so many have a child?—skin? He knows many spells, but is there one that can turn those screams into laughter?

He has been soft before. Once. And that is with this woman.

Many women have walked the castle’s halls: shivering, shrieking damsels at his feet; cold and calculating queens; fragile bodies on the floor, that he broke with the same regard a child does a vase that matters to someone else.

Those ordinary people who do come often have pitchforks in their mouths, and fiery words in their closed fists. Curses stacked on the end of stakes, banging like the castle is the church bell signifying their own funerals.

It is for this reason that the castle does not like outsiders, does not open its doors easily. But it cannot deny anyone entry. Unlike the humans’ doors, which find his master guilty until proven innocent.

They always came at night. At night, when the loudest sound is your own breathing. At night, when their fires echoed loudest, and their shouts burned brightest.

They came when the flowers were closed, when only the most eerie and vicious of animals played with the skins of their prey, and the moon waxed the world in cold, drunk shine. The sun could not watch them, could not show their blood-struck hands in their full glory.

She came at sunset. When the sun still glazed her deeds in sanguine auburn, but was just deciding to turn its gaze and let the kids have their fun. Not quite day, when the sun would kill things like Dracula, but not quite night, when the hours are named after witches, and lust is strongest—be it for the body, or the blood within it. Somewhere in between death and life, violence and peace.

This woman came with a knife in her hand, yes. But a knife, at least, was not a sword. It was not a pitchfork, a spear, a whip, or a stake; all weapons that signify, if the fight wasn’t there, you were bringing it with you. Not a war-starved weapon, pointing with mal-in—and -con—tent towards the castle doors and all the things inside it. Not a thirsty thing. Something that by default faced the other direction. Something that can start a fight if it wants to, but doesn’t crave it.

The golden woman came at sunset, with a knife in her hand, and looked upon this thing, this castle that others called ‘ugly’, and ‘monstrous,’ and ‘grotesque,’ looked upon it with awe, and gasped in wonder.

She knocked. She didn’t bang her fists upon the stone, didn’t ram pitchforks and assorted insults against the innocent doors, like how-dare-they protect their master.

She knocked, and the doors opened before she could raise her fist a second time. Maybe, just this once, not because they didn’t have any other choice.

The doors—foreboding, menacing, and all the other spooky -ings one can think of—opened to a world strewn in light; the demon’s castle looked brighter, more beautiful, more alive, than half the churches she’d been to.

Her footsteps were gentle against the castle’s floors. Not a slow, forced gentleness, but also not a piercing, purposeful march. There was no apprehension to her footsteps; her feet carried her as if anxious to take her to as many rooms as they could.

At first her steps were the only sound, enough to fool some into thinking they’re alone.

And it became clear both that she was not alone, and not a fool.

But when she saw the demon, she put the knife away, and used her words.

She used her words to repeat those she herself had heard: stories. But not the kind that make monstrous men run at the doors with naughts and crosses, the kind pious people buried along with all evidence that the world wasn’t made of black and white.

Not all the stories told that this place was cold and dark and full of death.

Amongst all the stories about death, there were others that said Vlad Tepes brought this castle to life with science, forbidden knowledge, and a little bit of lightning. Stories that say there is life here.

And, in exchange for proof that these life-stories true, Dracula asked for a trade, a trade that would prove the other stories true too. He gave up the killing a while ago—(the castle has been in one place a very long time)—but he was still not used to giving for free, and definitely not used to getting for free. Vampires trade in blood and names, not diamonds and declarations. Vampires trade in things they can swallow. This castle, too, had been a gaping hole set to swallow the world and everything that entered. Never once had it given.

And she dared to say, that this place, its master, should learn to give, when the humans have done nothing but take from them—or try their best to. He ought to be the one to invite her in, to ask what she would like, to dispense pleasant words and kind actions, when the humans forgot they invented hospitality, and showed no invitation for him to even enter their homes.

But she didn’t come with a mouth full of garlic, and hands full of superstition. Her feet did not drill holes in the floor with their sharp toll, they wandered the scenic route.

She was used to being cheated. Dracula and his castle were too. But that was not why she was there. She was not there for cheap tricks, or death. She wanted something real. A little bit of the life the castle has to offer.

Her defiance wasn’t that of a terrified citizen, or angry queen, either; rather the calm resolve of someone who is asking for something they know in their heart is good, and knows they will get it. The kind of person who believes there is good in everyone, and that this good will ultimately always win, and who won’t leave until they convince this good to show its face.

The castle has watched countless men and women cower at the foot of count Dracula. Some, do have a measure of god-sanctioned defiance; they come with whips and scourges to defeat him. The castle and the king are bound together in their resolve against them.

Except one. Except this woman. One human whom both master and castle found themselves reluctant to deny, cast away, or kill, maybe even…taken with.

She may be human, but she was not like the rest; she did not light the night on fire with her thirst for blood.

So maybe, just maybe, they could let one ray of sunlight slip through the cracks.

She was also not devoid of life, and maybe that was the key.

‘Devoid of life’ was an accurate portrayal of the castle. Bats flying out of blackness is a good description of a cave, and caves don’t usually come with the brochure ‘teeming with life’, or ‘great place to take your kids!’. The castle had a soul-sucking quality to it; those who entered often found themselves leaving less alive than they arrived. It took after its vampire master. Those who didn’t actually lose their lives within its walls, often remarked upon leaving that the flowers bloomed brighter, the birds sang louder, the grass was greener, and that they missed the sunlight.

Sunlight. Such a base thing; vampires don’t need the light or warmth to be happy.

Sunlight. Such a base way to die; wanting to get out of the cold and the dark.

“Is this how the castle felt to you before my mother first arrived at your door?”

Castlevania was alive once. Once Dracula set the pumps, and its heart began to beat. He turned the gears, and its lungs inhaled. He forged the lightning, and it began to think. Once the books, full of unknown knowledge, jumped off the shelves to get the vampire king’s attention. He filled the bottles and beakers, and they bubbled, as if laughing at a joke only they shared.

They were both alive, once.

That waned, with time. The gears got arthritis, the books caught pneumonia, the experiments atrophied. The castle ached before she came.

And Dracula, alone in the halls, picking up books and putting them down again without so much as a polite glance through them, because he read them all before. Dracula looking into fractured mirrors that could take him anywhere, but deciding there wasn’t anywhere he wanted to go. Dracula, looking into old mirrors that don’t reflect him—like there was never anything to reflect, nothing alive here to begin with, and there isn’t a master for this castle after all. Nothing but a grave. Dracula sitting alone in his study, staring into the fire. No one to talk to. No sound but flipping pages and crackling fires—nothing alive. Alive but dead. This castle. Its master. Undead is the proper term.

The other women who came through here reflected the castle, or else the castle took the life out of them the moment they entered. Queens with malice-stained past, and cracked, icy future in their eyes. Just as cold as the walls. Subjects, humans throwing gruesome insults, silky flattery, or fluttering pleas at his feet. Just as empty as the mirrors.

Only one refused the castle’s bite. Only one walked in looking for life, rather than death. Looking for a thing no one thought existed here. Already presumed dead. Put six feet beneath the ground. But maybe it was here all along; maybe the light hid in the castle’s corners while the dark came out to play, and she just had to coax it out of its hiding places. Maybe the bell was ringing all this time, she was the only one who came close enough to hear it; the only one who came to put flowers on the grave.

Maybe when she felt the machinery pumping she knew the rhythm was a heartbeat. Maybe when she heard the gears clanking she knew it was the sound of inhaling and exhaling. Maybe when she saw the lightning, she wondered what it was thinking. Maybe she looked at these books, these instruments, and saw what the vampire king saw once; something alive. They weren’t dead yet—un- or otherwise. Just sick, and in need of proper treatment. She was a doctor after all. Maybe her first subject was the very books she learned from.

Lisa, who looked at this blotch on the sky, with Death in its towers, and darkness splattered on its walls, and thought that’s where I’ll learn to heal people. Lisa, who gaped in amazement at the beast of a building. Lisa, who didn’t shudder upon entering. Lisa, who didn’t scream when its master touched her, but turned to him with calm resolve, and told him she’d teach him to be more human. Lisa, who’s life eclipsed the undeath in this place.

And there was a trade that occurred that day. For Dracula’s immortal knowledge, Lisa would teach him how to live a mortal life. To travel the world as a man, to walks as a man, to eat and drink, laugh and cry, as a man. Immortality for mortality. They gave each other the world, as so many lovers promise to do. Vlad would make her immortal, and Lisa would make him mortal, with no exchange blood.

(Except to create a thing with both their blood running through it.)

So maybe, after all this talk of life, it is fitting that she wants to create life inside this castle.

Fitting, maybe. Fitting for her. But the castle is not mortal yet, and wishes it could protest that it isn’t the right size, refuse to try on the idea.

Dracula is apprehensive as well, for the castle and he are used to each other, they take after each other, because the cold, and the dark, and the death, and the alone does something to you after a while; you start talking to the walls. After the cold queens and quaking colleens leave, or leave their bloodstains the floor. After the beasts and their silver-stained bullets turn back into righteous men in the sun. After he simply outlives everyone else. When all the living things hate, fear, or else betray you, when all the living things can die, and you, who are undead, cannot, it’s the lifeless things that stand firm by your side. When the day ends and the shadows come out to play, when you’re the only one left, in the end you still have the walls. And then…the walls are all you have. And if you talk to them long enough you make a sort of pact, spoken or silent, with those speechless stones: ‘you’re the only one I can trust.’

Dracula speaks to them one day, says he wonders if he can do this, be a father at all, not to mention a good one. The castle cannot reply. But something deep inside the walls wonders if it might be nice to hear Dracula laugh. It might be nice to put on some different clothes. It might be nice for someone new to listen to from time to time. It might be nice to live again.

The castle is concerned. Used to doing things one way, being one way, and only hearing one voice. But that doesn’t mean it is unwilling, that it intends to kill the child.

It never kills anything—Dracula does that. It cannot do anything on its own, and that includes change.

The castle doesn’t like change.

…But that doesn’t mean it won’t.

And if its going to change, its master must change first. They must change together.

Vampires do not have reflections. But Dracula has a castle, and that castle will be damned if it isn’t his mirror.

Reflections are simple to change; put on some makeup, some war paint, a new change of clothes, get a piercing somewhere. Simple, yes, but not easy, to change completely, because that doesn’t mean anything’s changed inside.

The castle did not come equipped for child-rearing; there are no rooms full of toys and cradles and school supplies.

So if this is to be, they must build their son’s world themselves.

Together they set aside a room for the child’s arrival. Just one, single room. And the castle too knows, from the start, this room will be different from all the rest. They will put paintings on the walls, and banners in the halls; things to interest him, to tell him of his parents, at least, even if there are few other relatives to spend Christmas with. The carpets will be darker, instead of the stringent red, and they will make their words smaller, the books easier to understand. The rest of the castle is warm in color, but cool in atmosphere. This room will be cool in color, but warm in atmosphere. The fire will always be set in its place, and they will try their best to make sure the warmth reaches him; if the fire fails, they will knit blankets; if the blankets fail they will make him tea, or warm milk with honey; and when everything else fails they will hold him. If there are tears here, scornful stares will not greet them, instead, kisses and lullabies will be behind door number three. If this room lives, it will be because of something much softer than pounding metal and lighting.

If a child is to live here, they must change that reflection. Everything Dracula’s castle appears to be, this room will be the reverse. Separate. Something… other than the castle.

This room will bottle all the laughter had in this castle. This room will be made of and for living, not the death the rest of the place is steeped in. So much so that this room will not stand for bloodshed.

Lisa brings in supplies from her town; color and cloth, boards and brushes, needle, and thread, and paper; all the things one needs to build a universe.

It is Dracula who takes the paint, who changes the color to something other than the blacks and reds of the rest of the Vampire’s world, cementing on the walls themselves You will not be dark here, my castle. You will be kind to him, Castlevania. The castle doesn’t know its master to work with his hands like a human, but Vlad is not the same within this room either—this room is part of the trade. He doesn’t use magic, or science, as if he is telling himself with every hammer that they are going to change together, the way one does when talking to the mirror.

Lisa sits in a chair and stiches together cloth and fur to make little creatures, toys for the boy to play with. Soft things, not sharp. They are reflections too, littler, simpler ones, of the creatures howling and prowling outside the castle’s walls, or scurrying within them.

But it is the ceiling that is the crowning jewel of the room. Something they paint together—splashing it onto each other’s clothes and noses.

His parents love the stars. They often walk outside the castle walls, fingers knit into each other’s, to gaze at them. They are scholars at soul, and have charted the constellations. They want their child to be able to do the same, to watch the stars, even if he’s not outside. At the end of every day they want him to be sung to sleep by the symphony of the night.

For them, maybe, but to the castle, one of the most interesting things about this room, is the mirror. This is strange, as, while there are other mirrors in this house, they are nothing more than a silver decoration; they have no purpose here, unless they float in shards and possibility. This is an ordinary mirror. It does hold something now, however, and that’s Lisa—only giving more credence to the idea that she is the only living thing in this castle. The castle wonders if they think it will reflect the child, as if they are hoping he will take after his mother and the room.

The mirror, and the windows. In the rest of the castle, the windows are always closed, curtained, or too small to let any real light in. But here they are big, and inviting to all the wiles of the day. Dracula protested—fearing he would burn. Lisa insisted—hoping he would shine.

The mirror, the room, are empty now. The windows closed. The books and charts dormant as the rest. It is not dead, but it’s not alive either. Not even undead. Just a question. An almost.

The room lays on Frankenstein’s table; just one lightning strike—(or one child’s laugh)—away from breathing.

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