#learn to use a lighter background color damn

[sketchmre]

a portrait from may 2021. honestly.. might either redesign yasha or reuse the lightning veins for imogen

#old art #my art #critical role #cr #cr2 #critical role 2 #the mighty nein #mighty nein #yasha #yasha nydoorin #crit role #cr fanart #cr art #god.. old portraits. pain #learn to use a lighter background color damn #promise i draw better a year later

[dusksmote]

How do you ink and color? Any tips? I love your art! 💜🖤

oh shit i got this ask months ago and forgot to answer

inking: god i hate lineart so much. the trick is to not do it 😂 unfortunately, i still find myself spending hours on lineart all the time @_@ 

the biggest thing i’ve found is making your lines varied in thickness. it adds to the interest. i also try to make my outside line thicker than my inside ones to break up the figure from the background. don’t be afraid to skips some lines and imply them with shading instead. i will color over my lines at the end to make them not as strong, but i’ve learned to still keep some lines black for extra emphasis. 

^ here’s one of my older pieces that i’ve been considering redoing. it has very little line variation, ALL the lines are colored so there’s no solid black, and there’s very little hard contrast in shading values. overall, it looks flat and uninteresting and if i had the time i’d redraw this one.

this is a more recent example of lineart that i think works a lot better. the characters are really well defined with a strong outline, but the inside lines aren’t harsh and distracting. you can see i recolored the lineart in kyle’s hair to be a dark red, and in some places it blends with the shadows to imply areas with more highlights. stan’s pants don’t have and lines in them, just the outside shape and pockets. 

you can see in this wip what the lineart looks like before i do all the shading and fancy stuff. stan’s pants look totally flat and straight until i start shading.

a lot of the time though i won’t even do lineart, especially if it’s a big scenic piece. the more zoomed out less detail you can convey, and lineart takes up a lot of space. 

^ this piece is an example where i do both, lineart and no lineart. the mirror image of kyle isn’t the focus, and i honestly didn’t feel like going in and drawing exact lines because they’d probably look fucked up anyway. i typically don’t put hard lines in backgrounds because it would take FOREVER and just be distracting.

the one thing you do have to be careful of with lineless art is contrast. hard lines are good contrast that show you what you’re looking at, and without them your image can blend together. 

here’s part of a painting i did last august, when i was first experimenting with lineless styles (full image on my NSFW twitter). can you tell what’s going on here? i sure as fuck can’t. there’s no contrast, and it makes all the skin tones blend together in an unintelligible mush.

contrast has always been one of my biggest weaknesses as an artist, so i’ve been trying to improve over time. here’s a more recent lineless drawing:

this one works because it had high contrast. the highlights are really bright and the shadows are really deep. you can still make out the facial features too, but there’s no ‘lineart’ layer’. everything was painted on in the same layer.

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coloring: oh my god i love coloring. it’s my favorite part of drawing and the reason why shit takes forever. a lot of the same stuff from before comes into play, like contrast. you can also portray some really interesting moods based on colors if you’re being stylistic, but also pay in mind to your environment.

i always color my background first. in fact, a lot of the time i’ll do the entire background before coloring a piece. the environment establishes your light levels and light source, and it’s typically easier for me to tweak colors on a figure than the ones in the background. in the above example with kenny, the background is a mostly solid black with a beam of light from the left. i picked kenny’s colors to fit in this environment. 

it’s also important to use references.  

you can see in this wip i’ve got a reference image for how light from a TV looks against figures and the way their shadows are cast across the wall. it also helped me figure out what colors to use in this situation.

a lot of coloring is just trial and error to see what works. i usually start with a flat base color and add value to it. if you put all your colors on different layers it’s really easy to change them quickly. 

here’s an example:

i got my base colors down and here i can see the skin tone is blending with the background, so i lightened it up for better contrast

i typically shade the skin first, then clothes. you can see here i did a dull skin tone with a bright colored shadow. this adds more contrast and interest. i always try to avoid doing dull shadows where you shift toward black. black shadows are really uninteresting and they can make your piece look muddy. i’ll typically shade with an orange, red, blue, or purple.

the final piece has a really bright highlight on it coming from behind. this just adds more visual interest and contrast. you can also see i’ve gone back into the pink shadows and added an even lighter, brighter peach value in places to show reflected light. this also gives the darker pink shadow an added outline effect, because it touches the base skin tone but looks lighter within. 

^ this one’s a good example of light and shadow (full image on my NSFW twitter lmao). there’s not a lot of color because it’s dark out, so everything had to be conveyed in values. there’s hard light across the stomach and then a shadow over the chest, but there’s still light being reflected up into stan’s face that lets us make him out. the rest is deep shadow and unimportant, so it’s all black.

that’s the other part, color and value determine where your eye is gonna look, so consider that when drawing. 

^ consider this piece i drew like a year ago. it has a lot of blues and reds, and originally i was going to make stan’s guitar blue. i don’t have the wips anymore, but it didn’t stand out and it didn’t look right with the image. after a lot of playing around i went with yellow because it’s bright, it breaks up the image, and it adds another color to the piece to balance it out.

the same thing happened when i was working on the cover image for What They Say About Us. 

you can see in this really early wip that i’d blocked in the colors and butters is totally naked. for one, i was like “damn that kid is WAY too naked in this image” and he also blended in with stan and cartman. additionally, there was a lot of warm colors on the left, a lack of color on the right, and an overall lack of blue.

first change i made was throwing a shirt on him and it made a huge improvement. the image looks much more balanced now and he’s not super distracting with his naked-ness.

other than that, coloring is just picking your base colors, blocking in shadows, adding highlight, and cleaning it up. if you wanna improve, look at photo references. look at other people’s art and examine how they use color and value. practice practice practice. have fun with it. the most fun i have coloring comes from figuring out interesting textures like the pharaoh headdress or kenny’s leather jacket. 

i find stock photos like this and study them to see how the light works

other than that, the rest is just playing around, seeing what works, and making things up as i go!

#ask #long post #lol

[agarthanguide]

How I Did the Mosaic Effect

You asked for it, so here it is- a shoddily composed but nonetheless candid and hopefully useful tutorial on the Mosaic Effect I used in the Mollymauk portrait.  Those of a stout and courageous spirit, read on.

Start with a sketch.  I was heavily referencing the Byzantine mosaics found in Ravenna and Istanbul, so my sketch is boxy and simple.  The detail and structure comes from the shape of the tesserae, so there’s no need to put in a lot of fine lines in the sketch. In fact, you probably won’t be able to replicate really small details.

Next lay in the gold textures where you want guilding to be.  I used multiple layers of gold textures, piecing things by where I wanted the visual interest.  Blend the edges by erasing with a soft brush, but don’t make anything too smooth.  Sparkle comes from the difference between dark and light. You can see I placed the highest texture in the halo and in his chest, and darkened the sides by his arms a lot.  NOTE- I eventually found this color gold to be too warm, and cooled it down significantly.

Time to paint!  Try really hard to block things in without lines.  If you do draw lines, make them bold enough that they can serve as a line of tesserae in the finished piece.  Use motifs that echo the style you are going for, and the end texture will do the rest.

For example, I cribbed the diagonal square pattern on Molly’s coat from a famous mosaic in the Hagia Sophia. Also make note of the shifting line patterns of the gold tiles, which create a circular shape in Alexandros’ halo, while building mostly on geometric patterns in the background.  That’ll come up later.

Apply a stone texture to the painted section. Once again, it doesn’t have to be perfect or absolutely convincing, it just has to break up the brush marks that inevitably make up the underpainting. I went with a marbled look, but you can go in any direction you like.  Most Byzantine mosaics have satin polished stones making up the tesserae, so I wanted a smoother look.

Okay here is the magic part- Place a stone or plaster texture over the whole piece.  I used a photo of a plaster wall from textures.com, but I’m fairly confident anything will work.

Now darken the plaster texture to a midtone, something that matches very few areas of your underpainting, in terms of darkness levels.

Put the following layer style setting on your plaster texture layer.  There’s a purpose here- you are making a very tiny shadow around every tesserae you draw.  It makes a huge difference on areas of the finished painting where the tesserae colors are similar to the background color.  Lemme give you an example-

This is Molly’s hair without the Inner Glow styling.  See how you can hardly see the individual tiles on the lighter sections?

Here’s the same section WITH the layer styling.  Big difference.

Now- apply a layer mask to your plaster texture.  Set your texture to a lower opacity- say 70%. Get yourself a slightly geometric brush with hard edges.  Choose the color absolute black and choose your layer mask to paint on.  Set your brush to 100% opacity. Are you ready?

BEGIN TO PAINT OUT THE TESSERAE. This takes practice. You’ll probably have to go back and forth between making the texture layer 30% opaque and 70% opaque.  The goal is to be able to track the shapes you are making while still being able to see the underpainting.

This part takes a while to get the hang of and even after you’ve mastered it, it takes forever.  Keep turning your background to 100% opacity to check how it’s going.

My advice is to start with the outlines of everything.  I know I finished the face first, but by the time I was patching up the other interiors I had learned so much that I basically had to do mass parts of the face over again in their entirety.

At some point I decided that Molly’s skin wasn’t purple enough- color choice is one of my weaknesses, so I had sampled colors off of actual Byzantine mosaics.  They don’t really include violet as a tone at all, so I eventually had to make the decision to abandon historical accuracy in pursuit of lavender.

Okay so that’s the interior finished!

For the external background, I made a brush.  Well, I took a hard square brush and took away all size jitters and transfers.  Then, after a few lines, I added a 1% angle jitter so that it wouldn’t look Too Perfect.  Actual Byzantine mosaics have very regularly irregular backgrounds.  They try to make as much of it out of square stones as possible, but then they keep the matching ones all in one little patch and then just sort of bang that patch into other patches.  So, in an effort to imitate that, you can see my hastily-developed system. I picked a size and plotted out a small area in that size.  Then I built lots of other small areas of various sizes until they started to collide. I left the imperfect spaces alone, for a minute....

Then I went back and filled them with my hard brush, by hand.  This was an absolute necessity in curved areas, like the edge of the halo, but also looked really slick where tiles didn’t line up quite right.  It gave it that imperfect, handmade look.

Okay DAMN ALMOST DONE!  I made the damaged bits by taking a cloud brush, setting it to pure white, and going to town on the layer mask. When you feel good about the shapes, take a hard brush and bust up the edges to that it mostly takes out whole tiles instead of just... ghosting them to death.

NOTE-  I almost gave myself a heart attack because I forgot to duplicate the texture layer first and ended up having to recover the original finished pic from some Well of Lost Souls in the back of my computer.  So learn from that and do elegant damage AFTER DUPLICATING YOUR TEXTURE LAYER.

OKAY THAT’S IT!  Go into the world with this knowledge and make me a bunch of mosaic effect drawings.  It was tedious but fun, right???

#art tutorial #mosaic effect #okay talking this out wasn't as hard as I thought it might be #but it's still not one of those pretty tutorials #but still useful right?!

[sintreaties]

The first thing to keep in mind, is that the OC has to be coherent with the story and the setting. You need to slip them in your fic in the same manner you would add a different species of fish in Kirari’s aquariums, that is, seamlessly and without much racket. They have to be weaved in the background and plot without disrupting the setting, but at the same time they can’t just be soul-less puppets, ready to be discarded as soon as you’ve used them for your plot-points.

These are the main pieces of advice I can give:

1) make sure you know who your characters are and why the story needs them

2) use the narrative technique of “show, don’t tell” to make them come alive in your stories

3) refrain from using excessive flashbacks, dialogues and descriptions.

4) practice, practice, practice and have fun

I will now talk about all of this a bit more in depth.

Let’s start with the character itself.

In order to create an OC you have to ask yourself:

1) what is their purpose in terms of plot

2) how do their actions and existence influence the world around them

3) how many times they appear.

In a word, you have to know how relevant they are to your story.

The more relevant they are, the more you should work on their thoughts, speech, actions, backstory and appearance in order to give them the same depth as the canon characters. You should also remember, that technically characters like Grandma Bami aren’t OCs. Their personalities and looks might be original, but for the rest, they already have a place in canon, even if we don’t see much of it, so you have to pay more attention in order to ground them and make them believable.

Keep in mind that your characters are more than a face and a plot-point, that relationships can be paradoxical and varied and that every person has flaws and strengths. Now you should be good to go.

Once you’ve decided on who the OC is and what they do, it’s time to weave those characteristics into the narration. Of course everyone has their own way of narrating their stories and everyone has different reasons to use an OC. Here are some of the examples in my fics.

In Of Thorns and Petals, Sayaka briefly mentions her parents to Kirari. In particular, we know about her mother's job and that she was always quite busy and distant. We learn more about this when Sayaka compares herself to her through a brief recollection: Sayaka remembers her talking on the phone, pressing it between her shoulder and ear while she cooks, like a real woman (meaning a functioning adult). This is meant to show the nuances in Sayaka's relationship with her mother: Sayaka looks up to her as as role model, and at the same feels her distant because she was always too busy to build a proper relationship with her.

Althought we won’t see Sayaka’s parents for God only know how many chapters, it was important to mention them now in order to establish that they exist, so the reader won’t be confused to see them at a second time and they won't feel out of place when Sayaka (and the narration) will require their presence.

Another OC of mine is Naosuke. Naosuke is merely a servant of the clan. In In the Shade of the Orchard we learn about his story, but his main function as narrator was to allow us to learn about Grandma Bami, about her cruelty and at the same time about all the characteristics that made her a woman worthy of admiration. In later works like OTAP he's a connection between past and present, between what the twins used to be when Grandma was around, and what they've become. He offers a contrast too, between the hatred they have for her and the reluctant admiration and devotion he always felt (i.e. Kirari suspects him of bringing her peaches when she goes to visit her Grandmother in Blood's Sickness).

Although Naosuke is now a background character in most of my fics (AUs and not), you don’t need to read In the Shade Of The Orchard to know who he is. We get to know everything we need about him at the right time through the right dialogues, actions and recollections, without disrupting the present narrative.

Naosuke and Sayaka’s parents are both examples of a “show, don’t tell” style of narration. Although it might take some practice, I believe this is the best style when it comes to introducing OCs, as it feels more natural.

See it as a painting and every detail is a brush stroke that will bring the composition together: Kirari recollects that her father often looked tired; and that the same tiredness often turned into something very similar to fear when he came out of Grandma’s office. Today, in the present moment, he doesn’t smile often and he never shows himself proud of her, notwithstanding all of her accomplishments (meaning, he sees too much of Grandma in Kirari and it’s taking its toll on the relationship between them). Here you have the portrayal of a weak, tortured man and his change throughout the years. You only need to give him a fitting appearance, perhaps bright blue eyes that look older than what they are.

Want to introduce an OC that has no real, possible connection to canon? Work in the same manner and make up everything you need.

The man sitting before Sayaka keeps playing with a lighter. He doesn’t look scared or nervous, but he has his own kind of restlessness. His eyes are indifferent and there are deep shadows under them; his hair is clean and cut, just like his nails, but there’s the first hint of a beard under his chin. Sayaka thinks that his suit looks too new, as if the price tag is still behind his neck.

Later on, when Kirari will arrive, she will amiably ask him if his flight went well, and he will tell her that her cousin was very clear in her instructions.

In a few lines we learnt that this man smokes or has a connection with fire, that he looks after himself but that Terano forced him to fly to Hyakkaou in such a hurry that the only way to make himself presentable was to buy brand new clothes, plus that Kirari isn't surprised to see him, so she probably knows him.

Kirari, Sayaka and John Doe himself will tell you this. I, as the narrator, am merely showing you their thoughts, words and appearance.

What you shouldn’t do in order to achieve the same result is use paragraph after paragraph of flashbacks and dialogues. In the first case, you will interrupt the flow of the narration, detaching the reader from the present; in the second one you might lose their interest.

When working on descriptions in general, be sure not to exaggerate. If you sap the subtext, you will only bore the reader (remember all those Jane Austen character descriptions? XVII Century English literature wasn’t that fun because the writers passed too much time telling us about each damn piece of clothing on their characters). Consider that most people don’t even notice each other’s eye color unless there’s something peculiar about it.

Last but not least, the more you get acquainted with your OC the better your narration around them will become, most importantly if you enjoy what you’re doing. There’s an intimacy between me and Naosuke; built on the fact that I and only I know most of his feelings and thoughts, only I know how he could react in a certain situation or not. When I think so much about it, it is extremely satisfying to bring all of that in my stories. Naosuke came to life first because I needed a “walking camera” and second because I was having a lot of fun writing him.

If it’s your first time writing an OC, don’t be afraid to come up with a Mary Sue. Humans are complicated even in fiction and only through practice (and reading) you might learn how to avoid certain mistakes sometimes.

Remember that it’s fanfiction. Be happy first, worry about technique later. Don’t be afraid to write as much as you can about anything you want and don't get discouraged if you can't write like James Joyce right off the bat.

I hope my answer and the examples I provided were useful. If you do end up writing something, please let me know!

#writing #fanfiction #OCs #kakegurui #sintreatiesreplies #anon

[ri-ahhh]

playing games

Hot summer days are meant for playing games  6k, basically all smut lol whoops

Disclaimer: I’ve created a whole OC character for Grayson in the past year or so, just as a creative outlet, and never really intended on posting it anywhere. Like, at all lol, so on the off chance anyone actually reads this, go easy on me please. If something seems like it doesn’t make sense or needs more background, it’s because it’s already written in the deep recesses of my Pages documents lol.

If you do read, thank you so much! Creative writing, especially fanfics, have always been my creative stress relief, so this is all in good fun. I’m definitely not attached to only this character, though, so if you don’t think this is complete dog shit and want to see other concepts, I’d love to do that! :)

***

There are a lot of negatives to be said about LA, as MJ had learned quickly when she moved here a few years ago from her home state of Oklahoma: the stuck-up snobs; the traffic; the dirty streets everywhere you go. One thing not on that list, however, is the weather — nine times out of ten it’s perfectly sunny and warm.

Today is one of those days where it’s borderline hot, but still comfortable to sit outside and bake in the sun for a couple of hours. That’s what she and Grayson are doing as they lounge peacefully by the pool in his backyard, soaking in all the Vitamin D that mother nature can give them.

MJ welcomes the blast of heat from the outside air that contrasts harshly with the AC she leaves behind in the kitchen. She had gone in to grab the two of them glasses of water and, while she was in there, noticed the house was oddly silent.

She plants a peck on her boyfriend’s full lips as he accepts his glass with a thanks. “Where are the E’s?” she asks, referring to Grayson’s brother Ethan and his girlfriend Evie. They were both still home when she and Gray first went outside, but a quick glance at her phone tells her they’ve been out here for over an hour, so that really means nothing now.

“I think they were gonna take a Soul class and then have a beach day,” Grayson answers. He sits up a bit to take a sip of his water, and MJ can’t help but admire the way his abs, slick with tanning oil, contract deliciously at the movement. They’ve been together for nearly a year now, and she still can’t get enough of his physique. Amongst other traits of his too, of course, but in the context of lying in the warm sun surrounded by the sheen of coconut-scented body oil, it’s what comes to mind first.

Not to mention, he’s wearing her favorite swim trunks of his — the ones she had bought him — that not only make his olive skin tone pop because of their bright turquoise color, but the fit hugs his ass (and dick) in all the right ways.

Clearly, she’s doing a piss-poor job at hiding her ogling, though to be fair she isn’t trying all that hard to begin with.

He smirks at her. “Can I help you?” he teases, knowing damn well what’s going through her head.

MJ flushes when she realizes she’s been caught, but quickly decides two can play this game. She bends over him and only lets him steal a quick glance at her ample cleavage in her bikini before taking hold of his face in both hands and kissing him.

“You’re sexy,” she admits simply when they part, smiling and wiping a dab of saliva from his lower lip with her thumb.

He swats the exposed skin of her ass lightly when she turns to walk the couple of feet away to her own lounger. She yelps in surprise, which melts into giggles. “Not as sexy as you.” She rolls her eyes playfully and blushes at this, though he can’t see her doing so behind her oversized black sunglasses and the shade of her baseball cap. “I mean, come on, MJ, they’re just muscles,” he says with smug grin.

He’s so full of shit today. MJ scoffs and settles into the chair, not quite believing her ears but also realizing he’s still teasing her. “Okay, Gray.”

She glances over at him and sees him rubbing his thighs, something he knows always gets her going, under the guise of applying more sunscreen. The audacity. She knows it’s intentional by the way he’s biting back a grin and stealing glimpses at her out of the corner of his eye.

Oh, so he still wants to play this game? Apparently ten months together hasn’t clued him in that she is just as competitive as he is, even in stupid things like ‘who can make the other person hornier.’

She forms a quick plan. MJ pretends like she’s oblivious to his nonverbal taunts and reaches out her hand for the bottle of Sun Bum. “So the E’s will be out for a while?”

Grayson stops his ministrations to hand her the slick brown bottle. “As far as I know. Why?” he asks, lying back in his lounger and pillowing his head on his hands. The way his arms curl send his biceps and shoulders bulging, another one of her physical weaknesses for him.

Douche.

“Just wondering,” she answers casually. MJ reaches behind her to raise the back of the lounger that is almost completely flat, higher up so that it can keep her in a relaxed sitting position.

Using his physical teasing as fuel to gather her nerve, she next twists her arm behind her back and tugs at the tie on the thick straps of her cherry red bikini, then does the same to the one around her neck. Even though they’re on private property, in an enclosed yard where no one can see, it still feels a little odd and uncomfortable to be even partially nude outdoors. But if it gets her points in this game against Gray, she decides it’s totally worth it.

When she tosses the scrap of fabric to the ground, the rustling causes him to look over and do a double take. “What—?”

MJ looks at him innocently, but grins devilishly inside; boys really are too easy, sometimes. “What, what?” she questions, spraying some of the tanning oil into her hands.

Grayson shakes his head at her and she can feel his gaze, hotter than the rays of the sun on her newly exposed skin, bore into her through his Ray Bans. “I see. So it’s like that, huh?”

“I don't know what you’re talking about. They’re just boobs,” she counters, throwing a variation of his own words back in his beautiful, annoyingly perfect face. Grayson scoffs at her incredulously, and MJ doesn’t even attempt to hold back a victorious smirk. She’s definitely won this battle, and she hasn't even brought out all the ammo. Yet. “For real, though, we basically live together; you see these every day.”

Grayson tosses a hand up and shakes his head like she had just said something ridiculous. “You see me shirtless every day and still look like you want to jump me all the time, so how is that any different?”

He has a point and he knows it, but he’s an idiot if he thinks she’ll admit so. MJ shrugs. “Anyways,” she continues, ignoring his comment, “I’m just trying to get rid of tan lines. And it’s only us here, so who cares?”

“What if they come back?” Grayson argues weakly, still trying to appear nonchalant about his half-naked girlfriend gleaming in the summer sun just three feet away from him.

MJ shrugs again. “We can hear them coming up the driveway from here, so I’ll just cover up when we do. Also, it’s not like Ethan’s never encountered boobs before, and I’m pretty sure Evie and I have seen each other naked more times at this point than you and E have each other.”

He looks a little affronted. “I’m not sure if thats weird or kinda hot, actually.”

She rolls her eyes again but fights back a smile at his somewhat predictable response. “Don’t be weird. Girls generally just don’t give a fuck with each other,” she explains.

“Well, I still don't want my brother peeping your goods; they’re mine.”

MJ should be irritated at his possessiveness, but admittedly she finds it a little endearing — not to mention, she loves when she drives him to be dominant, especially when she knows she’s really the one in control here. She thinks back to the couple of times Ethan had barged in on them in the bedroom on accident and how Grayson always made sure his body was completely shielding hers while he screamed at his brother to get the fuck out. Ethan clearly wasn’t a threat, but Grayson always made her feel safe and secure either way.

It also isn’t like she wants E to see her tits either, but it won't be the end of the world if he does, especially if the risk of it gets Grayson so riled up for her that he’ll think twice before teasing her like this again.

MJ’s got him hooked now and she knows it, so really she doesn’t need to take the final step in her plan. But thinking about his deliberate words and touches gets the competitive fire lit inside her again.

Taking the oil in her hands, she massages it into the supple flesh of her breasts that were, indeed, several shades lighter than the surrounding skin. Her tits jiggle enticingly and her nipples harden a bit at the pleasurable stimulation caused by her own touch; his sunglasses are still on, but she knows he can see the effect she’s having on herself.

“Fuck, MJ,” Grayson finally groans in defeat. He sits up in his lounger and plants his left foot to the ground, utilizing his long legs to pivot over to her chair and straddle the end of the cushioned seat in one movement. His large hands stroke the smooth skin of her calves that are bent in front of him, his eyes glued to the way she’s touching herself. “You win, okay? I’m sorry for teasing you.”

MJ smiles at him, her ego at soaring. She can tell his hands are itching to reach for hers and replace them. He hadn’t lied that first time they met — he really is a boob man, to the tee. Even in non-sexual situations, like whenever they spoon while sleeping or watching a movie, his hand automatically goes under her shirt to cup one.

“I really do want to get rid of these tan lines, though,” MJ tells him, feigning innocence while simultaneously trying to ignore the way her body is reacting to him being right in front of her, touching her. Unfortunately, there is no denying the rush of wetness to her bikini bottoms. She finishes rubbing the oil into her skin and cups her breasts as if he’s blind and can’t see what she’s talking about. “This is really not cute, what I’ve got going on here.”

Grayson scoots farther up the lounger and cups his hands under her bent knees to drag her into his lap. MJ gasps in surprise and hooks her elbow around the back of his neck to balance herself after his forcible movement of her body. He ducks his head down and kisses her, tongue meshing with hers perfectly and exploring her mouth just the way she likes.

“How about we do something more fun than just lay here while you work on that, then?” he pants when they separate. She nips distractedly at the juicy center of his full lower lip in reply, eliciting a low, rumbling growl from him. He plants kisses across her jaw, down her neck, and back up to the spot behind her ear that makes her putty in his hands.

MJ bites her lip to hold back any sounds, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet of letting him know he can do whatever he wants with her at this point. “You were just giving me shit because your brother might walk out here and see my boobs, but now you wanna actually fuck outside?”

She actually didn't hate that idea at all, to be fair.

“Yeah,” he says simply, like there’s nothing to it. “I’ve never done it outside, now that I think about it. Besides our first time, anyways, but that was still in a tent so technically it wasn't ‘outside.’”

This surprises her. Despite his young age, there aren’t a whole lot of opportunities for ‘firsts’ with Grayson, given his past ways. She isn’t about to let this chance slip because of a relatively minor, albeit highly embarrassing, what-if.

MJ grins. She takes her baseball cap off and puts it on his own head, backwards so she can have full access to his pretty face. Not to mention, she definitely has a kink for it that way. She rolls her hips down against his, pleased to feel him semi-hard already.

“Okay,” she agrees easily, using her grip on his neck to bring his lips down to hers once again.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of kissing Grayson; the man has the act down to a fine art. And as irritated as she had been with him only a few minutes ago, she now feels an overwhelming need to please him as much as he so often does her.

“Sit down,” she whispers directly in his ear, motioning behind her to indicate he should be the one reclining back.

She feels him shudder before obeying. He keeps her securely in his lap by wrapping her legs fully around his waist and stands with her still clinging to him. MJ bites her lip and marvels at the complete lack of effort the shift in position takes for him, and he sits them down where he can rest his back against the lounger.

MJ removes their sunglasses and places them on the ground. “That’s why I love your muscles,” she says, rubbing her covered center along his length and devouring the expression on his face as she does so. Her hands massage delicately across his shoulders and down his biceps as she rocks fluidly on top him. “Forget aesthetics. They’re just evidence that you’re so fucking strong. That you work so hard. That you try to be the best version of you every day.”

She suctions her mouth to the pulse point thumping wildly under his jaw and drags her nails down his pecs, threading her fingers through the patch of hair in the center that he’s allowing to grow. Grayson grabs her ass with one hand to encourage the rocking of her pelvis against his, and squeezes one of her breasts with the other.

“How am I supposed to follow that?” he asks breathlessly and with a huff of laughter, tugging her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

MJ moans softly at the sensation. “Do your best,” she replies with a grin, scraping her teeth along the spot on his jaw before trailing kisses down his throat now.

She feels his hard swallow as he thinks for a second. “Uh, every part of you is so beautiful, and your body is just a reflection of how amazing you are on the inside.”

Wow. MJ laughs incredulously and pulls back to look him in the eye, golden hazel meeting bright green. “I can’t believe you just came up with that romantic ass statement while I’m dry humping you. That’s pretty impressive.”

“I mean, it’s true. And I do aim to please,” he smirks, thrusting up into her.

MJ gasps. Her eyes darken and her tongue subconsciously trails across her lower lip as she stares at her boyfriend heatedly. She cups a tit with her left hand, circling her nipple with her thumb, and grips her fingers into the curls at the back of his neck with her other hand. “I would have been happy with ‘I love your tits because they're the best tits I’ve ever seen, held, or had in my mouth in my entire life.’ But I’ll take your version, too.”

Grayson smiles. “How about, I love you, MJ, every part of you — especially your tits.”

MJ bites back a sappy grin and swears she can feel her heart swelling for him in her chest. “I love you, too,” she sighs, and uses her grasp on his hair to drag him in for a deep kiss.

When she’s had her fill of his mouth, she scoots down his body, trailing her tongue down the indentation dividing his abs and nipping playfully at the taut skin right above the waistband of his trunks. Her mouth waters at the sight of the bulge beneath them, straining against the slick material. “Lift up,” she instructs as she tugs the drawstring and hooks her fingers in the fabric clinging to his hips.

Grayson moans and does as he’s told while MJ pulls his swimsuit down his inked legs until she has to stand up where he can kick them off his foot. She takes a moment to admire the masterpiece that is her boyfriend’s body and uses the advantage of already being stood up to shimmy her bikini bottoms off her hips. She lets them drop to the concrete at her feet before crawling back onto the lounger in-between his thighs.

She can’t resist drawing a ticklish trail down his Adonis belt with her long nails and watching his dick twitch at the playful touch. Grinning, she takes him in her hand and observes with amusement how her simple grasp is already affecting him, spreading the resulting dot of precum around the swollen head. Her palm is still slightly lubricated with the remnants of tanning oil, which creates the perfect amount of friction when she starts to stroke his length up and down slowly, adding a twist of her fist when she reaches the tip.

Grayson throws his head back and moans. MJ utilizes his position as an element of surprise to duck her head and lick a trail on the underside of his cock, base to tip, then wraps her lips around his head.

His chin drops to his chest and his hazy gaze is met with her mischievous one while she stares up at him through her lashes. “Holy fuck, MJ,” he moans, taking hold of her dark locks and fashioning a makeshift ponytail in his fist so he can see her better.

MJ smiles around his length, pulling up and holding the tip against her mouth, kissing it lasciviously. “You want me to suck it?” she asks sweetly.

Predictably, Grayson nods enthusiastically, tugging gently on her hair to guide her down his cock. MJ smirks and gathers saliva between her lips. She purses them slightly and drags the slick moisture all along his shaft, coating him until she decides he’s wet enough for her to take him in her throat. He’s the biggest she’s ever had and hasn’t mastered letting him fuck her face yet, but her lips encircle him and she slides him down into her throat as far as she can with relative ease. She hollows her cheeks as she pulled back up, over and over again.

“Oh my God,” he growls, his blunt nails digging into her scalp; MJ adores the sensation. “Just like that, baby.”

She grins and lets him slip out of her mouth with a light pop, stroking him with her small hand while laving his balls with her tongue. MJ always loves sucking Grayson’s dick, but she can’t believe how much doing it outside is making her even wetter than usual. There’s something incredibly hot about being under the cloudless sky, in the fresh air, and, yes, the danger of potentially getting caught.

With that thought fueling her, MJ’s fingers dip down to her pussy and she lets out a tiny whimper when her slim fingers light upon her swollen clit, more for his benefit than an actual reaction to her touch; she wants him to know how much she’s enjoying having him in her mouth. Something about the situation they’ve gotten themselves into out here is amplifying her desire in every way.

“Should I make you come now with my mouth?” she asks, dribbling more saliva on his dick and sucking him as far as she can a few times in quick succession, eyes trained on his, and she’s earned with wanton moans from Grayson’s plump lips. MJ lifts her head, her chest heaving, and gives him a devious smile as she raises the fingers that had been playing with herself to his mouth, continuing to stroke him steadily with her fist. “Or should I put you inside me, baby? Hmm? Should I put your big dick in my tight little pussy?”

Grayson lets out a guttural growl and sucks her proffered fingers into his warm mouth readily. Before she realizes what’s happening, Gray is reaching behind him to lay the chair flat again, and she practically topples over at the sudden movement.

“C’mere,” he instructs as he lies back, motioning for her to climb up his body. He takes the hat off and throws it across the yard when the bill impedes him from lying flat.

MJ pouts. Despite her teasing questions, she isn’t done sucking him off yet. And she really liked how that cap looked on him. “But—”

“MJ, sit on my fucking face now,” he demands, his voice deep and commanding; it makes her shiver and her head swim. His hazel eyes, which usually turn almost as green as hers in the sun, are now a deep chocolate brown behind the darkness of his pupils, dilated with pure desire.

Well, shit. She doesn’t need to be told twice; when Gray is in this mood, there’s no room for arguing, and she loves it. MJ bites her lip and crawls up his abdomen until her knees are resting above his shoulders and her shins lay alongside his chest in what little room is left on the lounger. He wastes no time in wrapping one arm around her thigh, the other reaching up for her breasts, and attaching his mouth to her throbbing center.

She cries out when his tongue drags through her slit and flicks against her clit a few times before thrusting inside her. One of her hands supports her weight on the top edge of the chair and the other cards roughly through his thick hair, tugging none-too-gently on his dark wavy mop.

Grayson moans and nuzzles his nose against her swollen flesh, grinning up at her and tweaking a nipple with his thumb and forefinger. “Did you get this wet just from sucking my dick, sweetheart?” MJ nods, the game of pretending he has no affect on her flying out the proverbial window. He lets out a little noise of affirmation. “I thought so. That’s why I love eating you out after you blow me; you’re always dripping for me.”

Without warning he sucks harshly on her clit and she shrieks, throwing her head back and moaning uncontrollably despite her best efforts. “Grayson!”

Grayson leaves the little bundle of nerves and dips his tongue down to her entrance once again as if to taste the fruits of his labor, groaning quietly. “So fucking sweet, baby. I love how you taste,” he says before repeating the actions over and over, driving her insane with the unrelenting pleasure of his simple motions.

She doesn’t know how she has the capacity to speak, but she manages to get her vocal cords and brain to coordinate. “I…fuck — I, I wanted to t-taste your cum, too,” she squeaks out, trying not to grind down on his face too hard. Not that he seems to mind.

His big hands restrain her hips anyways, long enough for him to speak. “I know you did,” he says with a smirk, and his voice vibrates sensually against her center. “You can do that next time, but right now you’re gonna come for me, and then I’m gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk. How’s that sound?”

God, the man knows how to use that mouth — in more ways than one. MJ can only moan and use her vice grip on his hair to tug him back to her pussy as confirmation that yes, that sounds fucking amazing.

All teasing pretenses are dropped as he goes straight for her clit and suckles her with purpose, that purpose being to get her to cum hard and fast. Sure enough, she feels the beginnings of her orgasm in her lower belly, driven by the sight of his eyes gazing adoringly up at her from between her legs.

It doesn’t take much longer once he adds both hands to her breasts, her moans reaching higher and higher pitches the closer she gets. “Ohmygod, yes!” she squeals, her knees squeezing instinctively around his head as he keeps up his ministrations, only gentler so she can ride out the high of her orgasm.

MJ’s moans turn to whimpers, and when she’s relatively back to earth she murmurs an apology as she slinks back down his body. Gray shakes his head in dismissal of her words and sits up, cupping her cheeks in his hands and kissing her deeply. She can taste herself on his mouth, and it gives her little aftershocks.

She settles over his lap and straddles his hips, grinding her dripping wet pussy against his rock hard dick because despite the amazing orgasm he had just given her, she was always ready to go for him; he makes her insatiable, sometimes.

“Fuck me,” she demands against his lips, lifting up so he can take hold of his dick and position himself where she only has to sit back and let him fill her up.

There isn’t much room on the lounger, but the way she’s forced to keep her legs close together just makes the fit extra tight and extra good. He lies on his back again, and MJ moans as she bounces on his cock with her hands planted on his broad chest for support while he grips her ass tightly.

Grayson for his part takes a moment to close his eyes so he can fully experience the warmth of the sun, the sweet wetness of her pussy, and the taste of her still on his lips all at once. He opens his eyes and is greeted by the sight of an angel leaning over him. The sun is right behind her head and creates a halo effect, making his heart skip a beat despite the fact that she’s doing all the work while he lies flat, spoiling him with her body like always.

MJ smiles down at him breathlessly and drags her manicured jet-black nails down his pec. He loves the pain of it, she found out early on in their relationship, and she’s more than happy to inflict it. It turns her on like crazy to watch his eyes roll back and his jaw to drop as he sucks in a harsh breath.

He can sense her tiring when she slows down and starts grinding on him, rubbing her clit into the groomed patch of hair at the base of his dick as she catches her breath and gives her quads a break. She moans and twitches when Grayson digs his thumbs in the sensitive creases of her hips as he sits up. He moves her legs to hook around his waist before wrapping his arms around her sweaty back.

“Hold on to me.”

MJ pants and clutches her arms around his neck, tightening her grip with her legs around his trim hips and digging her heels into his round ass. She buries her face in his shoulder as he stands both of them up. She doesn’t know what his plans are, but she hopes they aren’t going far; she needs him back inside her as soon as possible.

Her back hits the wall in the next moment and she revels in the firm, cool feel of the smooth siding against her skin that’s become heated from the sun and physical exertion. Grayson uses the leverage of the wall to keep her against the solid surface while he switches his hold on her so that her knees are now hooked over his elbows. Even in her somewhat delirious state, MJ can tell this will allow him to use the combined potential of his considerable physical strength and the support from the wall to fuck her senseless.

Their eyes connect as they both take a moment to gather themselves. Gray smiles at her sweetly and plants his palms against the wall as he dips his hips enough to thrust up into her.

MJ whimpers as he stretches her again, reveling in that sense of fullness and completion that she only experiences when he’s inside her. When he bottoms out, she cups his jaw and uses the strength in her core to raise herself up enough to connect their lips together. Her tongue instantly slips into his mouth and slides along his, tasting all of her that’s left in him, until she tucks her head in his neck to suck kisses up and down the thick column of his neck.

“Go, Gray, please.”

Grayson moans and lifts her up as he pulls back with his hips, only to let her sink back down on his dick while simultaneously thrusting up into her swollen pussy. As he continues and picks up the pace, the depth he reaches and the force behind their movements sends her reeling. Her nails dig harshly into the smooth ripples of his back as her eyes look almost unseeingly down over his shoulder at the wide expanse of flexing muscles. The newness of this angle makes her realize that this position is another first for the two of them. They’ve had sex standing up before, but never like this, where he’s almost completely supporting her and letting gravity do half the work for them.

The noises of their mixed moans and the sounds of their hips clashing fills the otherwise silent backyard. MJ leans back against the wall and grips his biceps, using her position to fully take in the power of his body. Every muscle bulges out with exertion, his jaw clenches in pleasure and concentration, his eyes flitting between her bouncing tits and her flushed face as he pants harshly.

Everything about her — mind, body and soul — is overwhelmed. She can’t help it; she’s so turned on by him, so in love with him, the words just pour out, even though she knows they won’t improve his stamina any.

“You’re so fucking strong, baby. I love how you can hold me up and fuck me like this with your big dick. You’re making me feel so good…” On one particularly sharp thrust, he hits the spot, and her eyes instantly roll back in her head while she lets out a purely reactionary shriek of pleasure. “Right there, Gray! Baby, holy shit…”

“Jesus, MJ, you’re so fucking hot,” Gray rasps out behind clenched teeth. From the animalistic noises he’s making and the unhinged expression on his beautiful face, she can tell he’s barely holding on anymore, but he’s getting her there so fast that she hopes he can last just that much longer.

With a surge of strength she didn’t know she had left in her, MJ leans up and wraps her arms around his neck, then hooks her legs over his ass for leverage so that his arms can hold her by the backs of her thighs. She starts thrusting herself and grinding down on his pubic bone, perfectly stimulating both her clit and that deep spot within her. Her body shatters a second later, her limbs quaking with the force of the waves coursing through her.

She knows that normally Grayson would let her ride it out at her own pace, even rub her clit slowly to get her through it, but he’s so riled up at this point that he simply slams her against the wall and pounds into her relentlessly. MJ’s mouth gapes open soundlessly as, to her complete amazement, she feels yet another orgasm right on the heels of the one that has just started abating.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants repeatedly, making direct eye contact with him. She knows what will trigger them both to fall over the edge. “You’re fucking me so good. I want you to come inside me, baby, please!”

A guttural groan rips from his throat, his thrusts falter, and his forehead drops to hers as she feels the first spurts of his cum shoot into her. This is all she needs for her own orgasm to tear through her, radiating warmth and electricity through her whole body with an indescribable intensity.

Masculine, relieved whines escape his open mouth, the sounds alone making her clench inadvertently around his throbbing length inside her. His lower lip is too enticing for her to resist, and she nips it teasingly before drawing him in for a slow, perfectly sloppy kiss. They’re both still distracted by the pleasure coursing through their connected bodies as he finishes inside her.

“Fuck, that was good,” he whispers after a minute of recovery, trailing his mouth down her jaw and nuzzling her neck sweetly. MJ smiles and hugs his sweaty head to her, kissing his temple in return. She’s about to suggest they go cuddle on the daybed under the shade of the awning, but she never gets the chance because…

“What the fuck, dude?!”

“Oh my God, you actual assholes! Gross!”

A scream catches in MJ’s throat as their heads whip to the sliding back door only a few feet away, and there they are; the E’s had apparently gotten home from the beach much earlier than she thought they would. Or maybe she and Gray have just been fucking for that long.

Once the scare of their sudden reappearance has worn off, she can’t stop a smirk from gracing her lips, though she does try to hide it in Gray’s neck in mock mortification. That’s not to say she’s not embarrassed, but what can she do?

“Well, don’t look!” Grayson cries, but she can hear the concealed laughter in his voice, just as her smile grows even wider against his sweaty skin.

“How about you don’t have sex outside against our house where we can look, you bitch ass!” Ethan screams at his brother. MJ peeks a glance at him and sees him standing there with the heels of both hands digging into his eyes, as if he is not only blocking out the image before him but trying to rub it from his memory, too. Evie is just running around the patio, laughing and yelling “No!” at the top of her lungs, which makes MJ giggle too despite her best efforts.

As humorous as this situation is and even though Grayson’s body is pressed against hers completely, it’s still pretty embarrassing considering she’s butt-ass naked with her boyfriend’s softening dick still inside her, in a backyard with two of her best friends right there to see. “I mean, we literally just finished if you want to walk away and let us clean up, then the whole yard is all yours.”

“MJ, can you not just clean up now?” Ethan insists irritatedly. “We’ve already got our shit ready to come lay out.”

She pulls her face out of his neck and looks at Grayson, biting her lip to fight the shit-eating grin threatening to break across her face; she can already picture his brother’s reaction to what she’s about to say. But what the fuck are he and Evie even still doing out here? Why are they not inside? They’re the ones making this weird.

“Well, we need to go grab my swimsuit bottoms, or otherwise there’ll be a, ah, mess, if you know what I mean. Also, I don't think I can walk.”

Just as she predicted, Ethan makes a dramatic retching sound and reaches his hand out for his girlfriend blindly. “Evelina, help me. Let’s go bleach our eyes out before I throw up from these mental images.”

#idk #dolan twins #grayson dolan #grayson dolan smut #dolan twins fic #grayson mj #grayson dolan oc

[spookyspaghettisundae]

One More Round

Tiny explosions cracked and clapped, thundering about and piercing the air. Flurries of snow cascaded down from the dreary sky, flaring up time and time again by bursts of colorful light.

The clock had yet to reach midnight and these goofballs were already letting their fireworks rip too early to celebrate the advent of a new year. Idiots, Holly thought with a sneer. A facial expression that made her wince, delivering the sting of a cracked lip and bloodied nose from the drunken brawl she had gotten into and gotten herself thrown out of a bar over.

Spiting the pain with sheer grit, she shrugged off whatever the multiple blows to her body had left her with and grinned to herself. Holly buried her fists in her jacket pockets and wandered about the deserted boardwalk. A little cloud of condensed air formed in front of her as she sighed.

A small tent that looked like it had come straight out of some carnival freakshow stood at the end of the pier. Soft crimson light poured out from the crack in between curtains covering the entrance to that odd tent. Written in patchy white chalk upon a small blackboard in front of the tent, the sign’s sloppy writing caught Holly’s attention.

She walked up to it and read the words written there:

FORTUNE TELLER

Discover Your Future $10

Her head still swam on a sea of booze-fueled stupor and a cocktail of dried-up adrenaline and endorphins that had followed her experience of decking some jerk in the bar fight.

And boy oh boy, she thought, had she decked him good. Probably cost him some teeth.

She dug around in her pocket and crammed out a wad of crumpled-up dollar bills.

Flipping through them and counting the last few in audible whispers, she shrugged and entered. Her self-destructive streak had been giving her a good time that night, all things considered—looking back upon one of her worst years in life—and she could use a silly little pick-me-up in form of some kook reading tarot cards or whatever their deal was.

Holly’s eyes watered and she coughed from the stinging wooden scent of sweet incense hanging heavy in the air, waving it away with a hand in front of her as if that helped at all. She blinked a few times and took in her surroundings.

Strange paraphernalia, such as amulets of feathers and animal teeth and dream catchers and silly crystals and rabbit feet and other nonsense dangled from silver chains connected to thin beams, encircling a small round garden table with two foldable plastic chairs in front of and behind the table each.

Dirt or gravel crunched as she pulled out the nearest chair and took a seat. The weary plastic frame creaked under the weight of her body. She exhaled and savored the strange warmth captured inside the confines of the tent. But the sensations of pain flooded back over her again, coupled with the sore aching feelings left over from her extensive workout before heading out for her sad little session of solo New Year’s Eve drinking.

Just before she could dwell too much on her loneliness or how that asshole in the pub had had it coming for how he talked to her, and she gazed too long at the blood where the skin on her knuckles had split, the curtains swished. A gust of cool air swept through the tent’s interior, and a figure emerged from the shadows of the tent’s darker, deeper bowels.

An elderly lady—whose face a deep purple hood concealed—hunched over and leaning against an elaborately carved wooden cane beset with what must have been fake plastic jewels, hobbled over to the table and sat down across from Holly.

A real damn cliché, she thought to herself, looking the feeble old woman up and down.

The fortune-teller had an air of precision and routine about her, each movement studied and repeated a million times. Common for any good grifter, she figured. Holly had not even noticed when this fortune-teller hack had placed candles upon the previously naked surface of the table, but the old woman now leaned forward and lit them with a cheap-looking red plastic lighter.

“Ten thousand dreams you have, yet with the insight of a donkey they’ll do nobody any good,” the old woman croaked in a thick accent.

Russian? Holly neither knew nor care, she did not get around much. She had avoided education and learning about the world as much as she could, focusing her life’s work more on trying to flush any memories of her traumatic past down the toilet.

“You callin’ me a donkey, you old hag?” Holly asked the fortune-teller.

The old woman looked up and the growing glow of candlelight illuminated her face, shedding some light on her countenance. A roadmap of wrinkles and a hideous scar along her cheek marked a face weathered by time and sanded down by bizarre experiences. She glowered at Holly, the reflection of burning wicks dancing in her irises.

“I see you walk a path of self-imposed exile, looking to engage in pleasure that interferes with any sort of deeper introspection,” the fortune-teller replied, grimacing at Holly. “Drink, fuck, drugs, drowning yourself in a dullard’s entertainment. Yes, I’m calling you a stupid donkey.”

Holly blinked and shook her head once the space for several sentences unspoken had spread between them.

“I mean, I guess you’re not desperate for business or ten fucking dollars, you fuckin’ asshole,” Holly said after swallowing an even angrier response.

Right before she pushed herself back up in a huff, a set of gnarled and bony fingers slapped down on Holly’s hand, pinning her in place. She refrained from leaving or even budging now, taken aback by this sudden physical response. Holly’s muscles twitched—she pushed back down the urge to lash out and give this old woman a fistful of knuckles like she had bequeathed upon the serial sexual harasser from the bar earlier.

Would probably split this old hag’s skull with one straight hit.

Another gust of cold air breezed through the tent’s interior, cutting across Holly’s burning cheeks and sending a shiver down her spine. It was like she felt the creepy thing that was about to happen before it happened.

Then the old woman spoke again.

“You dream of a black palace, hidden in between the cracks of this world. A world between worlds, where an old giant sleeps and only emerges to spread his dark seed in the world and reap the souls of those who he believes commit wrong.”

The blood drained from Holly’s face and her spine tingled anew. Over the course of those two creepy sentences, she had gone from wanting to snap this woman in half, to just wanting to up and leave, to sitting in shock, frozen and yearning to hear what else she had to say.

Because the old hag was spot on.

She indeed dreamt of that black palace. The place haunted Holly in her nightmares, ever since the events of her traumatic childhood. Constant medication and therapy had led her to believe that that palace was not real. That those infinite halls were only imaginary.

“You hear its whispers; you hear his words of caution. Yet you seek to commit sin after sin, sacrificing your innocence and drinking every humiliation as it feeds your rage, hoping to return there, and finish what he started. Your blood boils at the thought of all the things he took from you, the life you never lived, and now you want to tear the walls of his black palace down.”

Holly tossed the wad of crumpled dollar bills onto the table, convinced that this fortune-teller was worth her salt. But the old lady seemed to ignore the cash.

“I’m listening,” Holly told her, the words hissing out hoarse and tortured.

The flames danced in the old woman’s eyes. Little explosions crackled outside when new fireworks erupted, likely closer to midnight than the ones earlier. Holly was frozen in place, enraptured by this old hag’s presence.

She knew. Therefore, everything she said came crashing down on Holly with the crushing weight of horrible truth. Each word sliced through the haze of drugs and alcohol and woke her up more and more, awakening her to a secret world, a hidden entity with long blackened claws that peeled away at the layers of hollow pretenses of what people dubbed reality.

This time, Holly took the old woman’s hand into her own. Shook it, silently imploring her to go on. That gnarled hand was light and lifeless, as cold as the wintry air outside. Perhaps even colder.

The old woman let her but produced something from the folds of her veiled garments with her free hand. A crinkled old Polaroid photo which she gingerly placed upon the table in between them, right beside where their hands had met.

Though time had faded the image on the simple square photo and age had yellowed the originally white rim framing it, Holly recognized the picture right away. The black palace. Marble walls streaked with white and crimson veins, engraved with incomprehensibly alien writings, they stood out in the background of the picture, obscured by fog.

She could practically taste the dust of that place. That smell rust and iron in the air, and light that came from both everywhere and nowhere. Holly remembered slipping in that puddle of pus-like white substance on those sleek, smoothly polished floors.

She remembered that huge hand, encased in blackened iron, palm open and beckoning her to wander into the light. Attached to an arm too big to fit into the picture, just out of frame, huge and ominous and dwarfing the photographer.

Although she had not seen this exact scene with her eyes, she remembered sitting on the lap of that giant, that reaper, that monstrosity that dwelled in the world in between worlds, drinking in a dark destiny before it released her into the shambles of her rotten life.

“You can return there now, if you dare,” said the old hag.

Holly’s lip quivered, anticipating the words she wanted to utter without hesitation yet held back only by a budding seed of dread.

“Yes,” Holly whispered in reply, though inside she yelled it out for every world to hear.

“You can pursue your revenge, if that is what you wish,” the witch offered Holly.

“Yes.”

The old woman’s hand slipped out of Holly’s grip, which had gone limp with the dream-like state that had befallen her.

Her head swam again. Not in any stupor or haze of being under the influence, but the swirling cosmos of stars in her mind, the infinite sea of possibilities. And hurtling through that darkness between the stars, homing in on the brightest one, the flaring sun that shone out to her, representing her yearning to end things here and now.

The old woman stood aside and, with a sweeping gesture of her withered old arm, motioned towards the darkness between the curtains from which she had emerged to give Holly her “reading.”

The chair underneath Holly got knocked away, tumbling off the side and clattering against the worn rugs on the tent’s inner grounds, so eager was she to return to the black palace. To finish this, once and for all.

To find her own brand of peace, either way. Holly’s heart pounded with certainty, embracing the imagination of horrible deaths. Of the mental image of that skinless corpse, resting in a pile of human refuse and bodily fluids emitted only by decomposition. Of blood seeping from cut flesh—her own cut flesh. Of the giant sitting in his massive throne, commanding an innocent child to leave, lest he judge her like he had judged her parents.

“Wait,” said the fortune-teller.

Her gnarled, almost claw-like fingers rested gently on Holly’s leather-jacketed shoulder.

The old woman hastily scooped up the dollar bills and stuffed them into a well-hidden pocket upon her person. She paced back and forth as if uncertain where to fetch something she had forgotten, then produced a brown egg from another pocket.

Holly’s brow arched as she watched in disbelief, eager to enter the darkness within the tent and return to the black palace, but patient as the old woman seemed to know what she was doing.

The fortune-teller slapped the table’s surface thrice, sending drips of wax to fly from the candles.

“Iä, iä,” she chanted. “Wgah'nagl fhtagn.”

She slammed the egg down onto the table, hand flat, where yolk and egg white oozed out from underneath her palm. Blood trickled out along with the egg white in slimy, bizarre coils, like black oil floating on water and refusing to mix.

“Go. Now,” she said, and pointed to the darkness behind Holly.

Holly need not be told twice. Fireworks erupted outside, as if to orchestrate her steps into that place. Loud artificial thunderclaps, rupturing the deceptive silence of the night. The clock had ticked past midnight. The new year arrived.

She turned and pushed past the curtains.

Frosted tendrils of ivy and shards of rock crystal and quartz cracked underneath the treaded soles of Holly’s boots. Clusters of black berries drooped from thick sheets of plants creeping down the walls, and she pushed through the foliage that followed the silk and velvet drapes that she left behind her in her advance.

Fog billowed out around her and the tent turned out to be far larger on the inside than it looked like from the outside. For this was not the realm of the fortune-teller’s tent anymore—it was the black palace.

After decades of nightmares of this place, after all the time she spent being told and letting them tell her it was not real, she had returned to it. Found her way back, in the most unexpected of places. Instantly discarded all that conditioning, knowing this to be real—more real than any other experience in her whole life.

She ripped at the vines in her way, digging her strong fingers into anything that allowed her to grip it; dragging strands of plant life, snapping twigs and tearing leaves apart in her struggle to push forward. Every step took her deeper into that place of mist and marble and despair made flesh.

The underbrush tripped her up and Holly stumbled forward until her boots slapped against the hard floors of the black palace. The crevice in the wall, lined with sprawling tangles of wild plants, loomed like a wound in the shiny walls behind her. She still could have turned back now, but had no intention of doing so, nor would she even waste a thought on the mere notion.

Before her, a mummified skeleton rested on the floor, right where she had seen the skinless body of her father.

Each step she took landed on the ground with more force than the one preceding it. Her courage and anger swelled in her chest in equal measure and she knew where she had to go.

The pounding pulse of her heart drowned out the chorus of whispers that hailed from the walls all around her, and she arrived by the back of that tremendous giant throne. That monolith of wrought iron and cold stone.

Its shape and edges looked more jagged, sinister, vicious, sharper, and pointier than she remembered them. Like time had filtered them in a haze, dulled them to the point of blunting the breathing horror that the throne exuded in her memories, but her hatred and drive to find the owner of that throne lent her a clarity that pierced the veil of the fog around her.

She marched towards the throne and rounded its corners, craning her neck to see who sat upon it. But no legs rested there. There was nobody there. The throne stood empty, tall and imposing.

His voice returned, finally, like it had reached her through the curtains of dreams, haunting her nights and rendering them sleepless.

That monotonous tone, that detached, uncaring inflection riding on every word.

“Finally, you have returned to your true home,” he spoke.

A voice that came from nowhere and everywhere simultaneously. Even swiveling and looking around, she could not pinpoint its origin.

Instead, Holly grunted and gritted her teeth and scrambled her way up the side of the throne, grabbing hold of every angled diagonal and engraved indentation that afforded her hold, climbing up onto the seat of the throne upon which she could stand and better survey these twilit halls, perhaps rise above the fog.

“Behold the codex,” Holly spoke, every word ringing out with the same monotony as his voice.

Her blood ran cold with the realization. The giant was no more, for she had taken his place.

“Finally, a successor to the throne,” she said, speaking to herself. Imperious in volume, calm and stoic in the distinct and sharp absence of song that her speech delivered.

Herald of the void.

From where she stood, the mists swirled along the blackened floors of these halls. Still, the ceilings reached to dizzying heights, swallowed by darkness and unfathomable to natural human sights.

But as blood shot into Holly’s eyes and her transformation commenced on the most microscopic of levels, her vision changed as well. She saw windows into the world within that darkness, framed upon the horizon of the walls of the palace around her. Moving, living, fleeting images of the world beyond this world between the worlds, teeming with life, bustling with people.

Some gazed up at the fireworks, marveling at their splendiferous colors and bright lights. Others drank themselves into a stupor, laughing and carousing till they committed acts of unspeakable stupidity. There, someone cheated on their spouse. Elsewhere, someone stabbed a man to death over nothing but naked greed.

Holly saw it all. She witnessed every crime, saw every even so minute transgression unfolding before her eyes—eyes growing wide with terror, and the unfettered hatred in her heart taking over, with cold and slimy tendrils snaking outwards from that darkness within, infecting every fiber of her being, and filling her with murderous purpose.

And come one year from now, it would be time for her to ride. To embark upon the gifting and reaping. It would be her first round, her first turn as the new successor to this throne—as the new master of the black palace. A first time of tasting their despair and relief and drinking in their fear.

With many more rounds to follow.

In time, she would grow to fit upon that throne.

But for now, she had a year’s time. To watch. Remember every transgression. And make note of those whose punishment would arrive by the end of the year.

—Submitted by Wratts

#spoospasu #spookyspaghettisundae #horror #short story #writing #my writing #literature #spooky #fiction #submission #one more round #happy new year #dark #surreal #hyperrealism #fortune-teller #santa #demon #eldritch #chthonian #lovecraftian #other world #dark destiny #naughty or nice #throne #black palace

[embklitzke]

July 2020 Camp NaNoWriMo - The Magic Crystal Justice Squad (Chapter 3)

It wasn’t as bad as he’d made it sound.

It was a lot worse.

I stared at the screen, watching the footage now for a third time, barely hearing the reporter talking over the video, stomach sinking.  This was bad.

“I am so fucked,” I said to myself, clutching my cup.  “What the hell was I thinking?”

That was the problem, though.  I really hadn’t been thinking.

Worse yet, the news had correctly identified me—not as me, of course, not at Autumn McCrory, but definitely as the Quicksilver Crystal Princess, the de facto leader of the Magic Crystal Justice Squad.  That alone made me want to curl up in a hole and die.

I was twenty-nine years old and I was going to be known for the rest of my life as the Quicksilver Crystal Princess.  At fourteen, it hadn’t sounded so bad—none of it had sounded that bad.

At fourteen, none of us had exactly been able to think very far ahead or very clearly about what could happen in the future.

Gods, we were so stupid back then.

But Nimue had made it sound like it wasn’t going to be terrible.  She’d talked to us about duty and honor and responsibility and helped us learn how to use the powers our wands gave us—and so much more.  I missed her more than I wanted to admit.  She’d always somehow known what to say and what to do—up until the last minute of her life, when she’d sacrificed herself to save us in those dark hours.

We’d all thought that it was the ultimate noble sacrifice.

Something about it now seemed like cruel irony.  We hadn’t won the war.  We’d only delayed it.

My lips thinned as I ran the video back again.  Where had the cameras been?  How had I missed the fact that I’d hit the eleven o’clock news?

Tristan was right.  If the others didn’t know what I was doing yet, they’d sure as hell know soon.

What do I tell them when they come demanding answers?  I didn’t know.  What was worse, I didn’t know what I’d do if they didn’t come demanding answers.

I put my head down on my desk, staring at the wood grain at close range, then sighed.

“Buck up, Autumn,” I muttered to myself.  “This isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened.  Or could have happened.”

It wasn’t, but it was damn close.

It had only been a matter of time, though, before someone caught sight of me.  I’d really just hoped it would be later.

I let the video cycle through one more time before I turned it off with a groan.  My coffee cup was empty.  Even four cups in, I wasn’t any less tired than I’d been when I rolled out of bed.  I’d need to fuel up even more if there was even going to be a prayer of my making it to Maricopa tonight to babysit Tristan and his date.

I wish I could have said no.

At least it meant I didn’t have to cook.

Dragging myself to my feet, I headed with my cup back toward the kitchen to make another pot of coffee and try to mentally prepare myself for diving head-first into my brother’s research.  Not for the first time, I wished I could find a way to just be numb, to not feel the ache of his absence whenever I even thought of what he’d been digging into.

Gods, Aust, why didn’t you tell me about what you’d found sooner?  But I knew why.  He wanted to be sure before I threw myself into danger again.  He knew that would be my first instinct, especially since we’d already figured out that no one was going to crop up to replace me and the rest of the team.  No new Magic Crystal Justice Squad was going to arise.

There was just the old one, now twelve years out from retirement, and with most of the team intending to stay retired for the rest of their lives.

I couldn’t blame them. If not for my promise to Nimue and what had happened to Austin, I would’ve stayed retired, too.

Like I said.  Fate’s a cruel bitch and I know for a fact that she’s got my number.

Halfway through making a fresh pot of coffee, someone pounded on my front door.  It startled me badly enough that I jumped, heart going at three times its normal speed.

What the hell? I wasn’t expecting any deliveries, and Tristan never knocked—he’d always just let himself in.

The last time someone had pounded on the door like that...

My heart lodged in my throat.  I opened the drawer where I kept my wand stashed and prayed that I wasn’t going to need it.

Keeping it hidden behind my back, I moved toward the door.

Whoever was on the other side pounded again.  I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice level.  “Just a minute.”

Peering through the peephole, I only saw someone’s back.  It was a woman, her brown, almost black hair in dozens of small braids.  I caught a flash of skin only a few shades lighter and swallowed hard.

Oh gods.  Please no.  I don’t think I can face any of them.

But if it was who I thought it was, she already knew I was home and she already knew she had the right place.

Still, if it was Tia out there, how the hell had she managed to find me?

Clutching my wand behind my back, heart hammering and praying that this wasn’t some kind of trap or trick, I unlocked the door and cracked it open.  Tia turned at the sound of the bolt sliding back and met my gaze through the crack.

“You are a really stupidly hard person to find,” she said, crossing her arms.  “Can I come in?”

Heaving a sigh, I nodded, opening the door wider.  “Yeah. Come in.”

This isn’t going to be fun.  Not at all.

Her tone told me that much.

She stepped past me and walked deeper into my apartment.  Exactly three steps in, as I turned to close and lock the door behind her, she turned back toward me.

“Unlisted phone number, zero social media presence, no address under your name, no real paper-trail. It’s like you wanted to be forgotten.”

“Maybe I did,” I said as I leaned against the door, avoiding her gaze.  I didn’t want to see the anger or hate that I knew I’d find there.  She was pissed and probably entitled to it.

“Maybe you did,” she echoed, her voice heavy with sarcasm.  “If not for that video on the news and three measly pictures that might be you on Tristan Zeller’s arm—by way, if that is you, you’ve got even more explaining to do than just what was on the news—you might as well be dead.”

I shrugged.  The lack of social media and the unlisted number and address had all been my idea. Austin had profiles, but the apartment was under the name of the McCrory Trust and his cell number was unlisted, too. It had just seemed safer that way, smarter.  Besides, the work he did practically required some sort of social media presence.

Mine—or the lack thereof, if I were really honest with myself—didn’t require even that much, so I’d stayed completely under the radar as much as I could.

There was a huge part of me that really had wanted to be forgotten.

“So how did you find me?” I asked, staring at her feet.  She wore flats, cute ones printed with cherries on a pale blue background. The red echoed the color of the capris she wore.  Somehow, she’d always managed to be effortlessly fashionable, even when we were teenagers.

I’d always envied her that in a teeny, tiny way.

She huffed a sigh. “It wasn’t easy.”

“I didn’t think it would be.”  Because I didn’t want to be found.

The weight of her gaze was almost enough to make me wilt.  “I ended up finding your dissertation.  That got me to a copy of your CV.  Why the hell aren’t you teaching?”

“Technically, I’m doing post-doctoral research.”  I levered myself off the door and walked back to the kitchen.  She pivoted to keep me in view.  I turned my back to her as I resumed making that fresh pot of coffee I’d started before her pounding on my door had interrupted me.

“Post-doctoral research,” she echoed.  “In what, Autumn?”

“Technically nothing.” My lips thinned and I turned back toward her.  “What do you want, Tia?”

Her expression went slack. For the first time, I met her gaze and saw worry there, not the anger and hate I’d expected.  “What do I want?  I want an explanation, Autumn.  What the hell is going on?  Why were you out there as the Princess on the evening news?  I thought that was all over—we hung it up.”

“We did,” I agreed. “But you guys knew that Austin and I were going to watch.  That we were going to wait to see who was supposed to pick up where we left off if something new cropped up, if something else went sideways.”  My fingers curled around the edge of the counter behind me and I held onto it—it was something tangible, something solid, and I needed that without knowing why.  “I owed that much to Nimue and there was no way in hell Austin would let me shoulder that burden alone.  Not after everything he watched us go through.”

“So what changed?” Tia took a step toward me, then stopped, as if she’d seen something in my expression that gave her pause.  “What did you guys find out?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“More complicated how?” She looked around, her brows knitting. Her arms fell to her sides.  “You were on the news stopping some apparent thugs from breaking into a WestCorp satellite facility because who knows why. That seems pretty simple to me.  I just want to know why.  Maybe if I asked Austin, he’d tell me.”  She turned, as if she was about to go looking for him.  I didn’t stop her.

I just squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed hard, fingers digging into the edge of the counter.

“He lives here with you, doesn’t he?”

My head dipped in a single nod.  I couldn’t look at her.  I couldn’t even open my eyes for fear that I’d just burst into tears.

The pain of loss hit at the worst possible times.

Worry threaded through her voice, mingling with a sense of dread and foreboding, as if somehow she knew what I was going to say.  “Autumn, where is he?  Where’s Austin?”

“They took him,” I said in a choked whisper.  “Men with guns came one night and took him.  I didn’t realize who or what they were until it was too late to stop them.”

“What were they?” she asked, her voice growing closer.  I trembled, biting down hard on my lower lip, as if that would help keep the tears at bay. “Autumn, please.  Tell me.”

“They were her men. Her monsters.”

Tia’s voice dropped. “Kalstrixa’s?”

“Yes.”

The words came as a harsh whisper.  “But we banished her.”

“Apparently not hard enough,” I said, my voice choked.  “Because her thugs showed up at the same front door that you just pounded on and took my brother before I could stop them.”  Sucking in a shaky breath, I finally let go of the counter long enough to swipe angrily at my eyes, at the tears that had started to roll down my cheeks. It was only then that I met Tia’s gaze and saw the shame there.

The bottom dropped out of my stomach.

“When did this happen?” she asked, a tremor in her voice.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Six months ago,” I said, feeling lower than the shit you’d scrape off the bottom of your shoe.  “I didn’t tell anyone.  Tristan found out on accident.”

“Tristan Zeller.”

I nodded, closing my eyes again.  “Yeah.”

“Who doesn’t know anything about any of this.  Or...didn’t until you told him.”

“I didn’t tell him anything,” I said.  “Just that men with guns came and took Austin.”

She shot me a skeptical look, then came toward me, leaning against the kitchen island to gaze at me steadily.  “How do you know him?”

Now was the point that I hoped I was a far better liar than Tristan kept telling me I was.  “Austin introduced us.  They went to school together.”

Tia nodded slowly. “Must be pretty good friends.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “That actually was me in the pictures.”

“Are you seeing him?”

“Not like that,” I said. “I haven’t been with anyone since...” my voice trailed away as my throat tightened more.

Garrett was like a ghost that haunted me.  Even all these years later, I ached for him in ways I couldn’t even fully fathom, much less fight.

Tia nodded slowly. “Have...have you seen him?  Talked to him?”

“Glimpses only,” I said, turning away.  “Do you want some coffee?”

“Are you asking me to stay?”

I shrugged.  “Knowing you, Tee, I doubt you’re leaving before you’re fully satisfied with the results of your interrogation.”

“Interrogation,” she repeated, though I could hear the teasing smile in her voice without looking back.  “Well, I always was good at that, wasn’t I?”

“The best,” I said, glancing back over my shoulder.  “Do you want some coffee or not?”

Her smile gentled and she nodded slightly.  “Yeah. Coffee would be good.”

I plucked a spare mug from the tree on the counter, turning on the brewer and leaning against the counter to wait, playing with my own empty mug.  Behind me, Tia sighed softly.

“It’s good to see you,” she said almost tentatively.  “Even if I had to see you on the news first.”

“Did you see it last night or this morning?” I asked her.

“Five AM,” she said. “Spent all morning trying to track you down instead of actually doing my job.”  Her lips thinned.  “You had me real worried, Autumn.  Really, really worried.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m good at that.”  I looked away again.  “Sorry about the scare.  Sorry you had to see me on the news.”

“I’m—I’m not really that upset about that,” Tia admitted.  “But I am upset that you didn’t come to me when they took your brother. Why didn’t you?”

“Because we retired,” I said, staring at the thin stream of coffee as it dripped into the carafe. “Because it didn’t seem fair to try to drag you back into something that you’d managed to get out of.  All of you guys have lives.  For Austin and I, making sure that nothing bad happened because of what we used to fight was our job, was our life.  If we could do that and let you guys keep on keeping on?  Why wouldn’t we do that, y’know?”

“How long have you known that she was back?” Tia asked.  “Or—or at least her forces were back?”

“Austin told me about a month before the men showed up to take him,” I said, starting to pour the coffee. I filled her mug first, then mine, and brought both over to the island.  I kept talking as I got the cream and sugar and brought them over.  “I don’t know how long he knew before he told me, but I think it was a while.  He was always watching, always digging.  He was better at it than any of us.”

“Well, that’s how he figured out our secret in the first place, isn’t it?  It’s not like it was any kind of twin-sense.”

I choked on a laugh that could have easily turned into a sob, shaking my head.  “You’re sure as hell right about that.”  For all the jokes and theories about twins having some kind of innate connection that bordered on the psychic, it hadn’t really been that way for Austin and I.  Every so often one of us would have a bad feeling about the other’s state of being that came true, but not enough for either of us to believe it was anything other than coincidental.  As for when I’d picked up my wand for the first time, if Austin had noticed anything inside of the first year, he never let on.  It wasn’t until later that he’d started to sort out that there was something strange going on with me and my friends from school.  He’d gotten curious enough to start digging and it wasn’t long before he’d stumbled into what was going on.

No matter how hard any of us ever tried to keep a secret, somehow Austin could always figure out what it was.  That was his superpower.

He’d always said it was the only one he needed.

I miss him so much.

He was all the blood family I had.

Now even that had been taken away from me.

“So he found something,” Tia said.  “Pursued it, didn’t tell you anything until later, and then shit hit the fan.”

“In a major way.”  I scrubbed a hand over my face.  “Before you got here I was getting ready to go through his files again, see if I could figure anything out, see if there was something I’d missed the last dozen times I looked through them.”  I sighed.  “I don’t know.  I feel like there’s something he buried in all of the information that he gathered that I just haven’t found, one piece of the puzzle that I’m missing that’ll help me put it all together.”

“That also sounds like him.”  Tia stirred some cream and sugar into her coffee, staring into the mug for a few seconds before she looked at me again.  “Did you report it?”

I startled.  “Report what?”

“Austin’s kidnapping.”

Wincing, I shook my head. “No.  How could I?  For all I know, she’s got people in the military industrial complex or law enforcement and they’re the ones that took him.”  The thought made me sick but it was entirely possible.  Before we’d managed to banish her, Kalstrixa had people everywhere, embedded in some of the highest levels of governance and law enforcement.  It had been a terrifying thing for a bunch of teenagers to face.

In some ways, I was silently grateful that a new crop of teenagers wouldn’t be the ones facing her return.

At the same time, fighting her alone didn’t have much appeal, either.

I can’t ask them to help me.  They hung it up.  Let them stay retired.

Let them stay safe. As long as they’re not involved, they’ll be safe.

As long as they don’t suit up, they’re safe.

Please, let them stay safe.

Tia chewed her lip. “I guess I didn’t think about it that way.  The men that were going after WestCorp—”

“I don’t know what they were after,” I said.  “Not yet. That’s part of what I was going to start trying to figure out when you got here.”  I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  “Tristan was going to check into some things on his end to see exactly what his company’s getting set to do at that facility.”

She nodded slowly.  “I wish you’d called me.”

I just shook my head. “I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“You shouldn’t be fighting alone.  Someone’s got to watch your back.”

I tried not to think about how long I’d been doing it alone.  She didn’t need to know that I’d been doing it for seven months—since before Austin was taken.

There was a big part of me that thought my actions were at least one reason that he’d been taken away from me.

Every action I took now put him in danger, but I knew that he wouldn’t want me to stop fighting. Even though he hadn’t confided in me exactly what he’d found, he’d said enough for me to know how high the stakes were and how much he believed that we needed to take action.

I couldn’t just stop now. That would have been a betrayal and my brother was the one person in the whole universe that I wouldn’t ever betray.

Not in this life or any other.

“Autumn?”

I jerked, blinking at her. “What?”

“You got really quiet,” Tia said.  “It was like you weren’t even here for a minute.”

“Maybe I wasn’t,” I whispered, staring into my mug again.  I took a slow sip of coffee.  “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”  Tia reached across the counter and put her hand on my arm.  I shivered a little.  She bit her lip.  “I’m sorry to barge in and demand answers.”

“I probably deserved it,” I said.  “Like I said. You didn’t deserve to find out about this from the evening news.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly. “But it’s okay.  Sounds like it’s been rough all over for you.”  She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I’m guessing Rin doesn’t know?”

A shudder went through me and I shook my head almost convulsively.  “No.  And neither of us are going to tell her.”

Tia blinked.  “Wait, what?  You don’t think she deserves to know?”

“They broke up, Tia. A year ago.”

“He was going to marry her, Autumn.  You don’t think she deserves to know that something’s happened to him?”

It was almost enough to bring me to tears again.  My hands tightened around my mug.  “Just because they were going to get married doesn’t mean that she deserves this level of pain, Tia.”

Her sharp breath told me that she knew exactly what I meant.  “Oh.  Oh, Autumn, that’s not what I’m implying.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, my voice cracking.  “I’ve already thought it.  I just hope I’m wrong.  Is it awful to hope that they’re just holding him hostage and maybe punishing him for my actions but not trying to do that to him?”

“No,” she breathed. “No, Autumn, it’s not awful.  None of us would ever wish what happened to Garrett on anyone.  You know that.  God, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you of that.”

“There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of it anyway,” I said.  I had to take another drink to loosen my throat enough to keep talking.  “I don’t know what I’ll have to do to save Austin, Tia, but I’m not asking any of you to come back to this.  I want you guys safe.”

“None of us are safe if she’s back,” Tia said, her gaze steady and her voice firm.  “Nothing that means anything to us will be safe—no one that means anything to us will be safe if she’s still out there, Autumn.  You know that.  You might not want to, but in your heart, you know it.  That’s why she came after Austin—above and beyond whatever he uncovered and couldn’t leave alone.  She came after him because he means something to you—to all of us.” Her hand tightened on my arm.  I swallowed hard and just stared at the countertop.

I knew the words were coming before she said them, I just didn’t want to hear them.

“Let me help,” Tia said softly.  “Please, Autumn.  Don’t shut me out.  Don’t shut any of us out.  He’s family to us, too.”

I couldn’t deny her that. I shivered, wanting nothing more than to shrivel up and blow away like a dry leaf on the wind.  “Tia, if you pick it back up, you might never be able to set it down again.  This could destroy your life, everything that you’ve worked for.”

“If I don’t and she wins, everything that I’ve built for myself since we hung it up isn’t going to matter anyway.”  She took both of my hands in hers.  I couldn’t help but stare at the engagement ring on her left hand.  Austin had mentioned to me that she was getting married shortly before he’d disappeared.  He’d seen the announcement on social media a few days before an engagement announcement hit the papers.  I was happy for her.

I was also terrified.

Her fingers tightened around mine.  “I won’t build my future on rubble of yours and Austin’s, Autumn.  It’s not in me to do that to either of you.  You’re going to let me help in whatever way I can—whatever way I have to.  You’re not going to argue with me about it, either.  Y’dig?”

“I dig,” I whispered, then smiled faintly.  “What are you going to tell your fiancé when you start missing dates and not coming home until late?”

“I guess that’s going to have to depend on group consensus,” she said with a faint smile.  “Because let’s be real here.  It is only a matter of time before Rin shows up looking for you and Austin because I’m guessing she knows where you guys live.”

“Actually, she doesn’t.” I shook my head, smiling weakly at the shocked look that crossed her face. “Austin always either picked her up or met her somewhere, and they would always go back to her place.  She hasn’t known where we lived in ten years.”

Tia let out a low whistle. “Well, then.  Either way, she’s going to be hunting you down.  She might not find you as fast, but she’ll find you regardless.”

“You think she’s going to be mad.”

“Oh, I think she’s going to be absolutely furious.”  Tia grinned. “Good thing you’ll have me to back you up and help deflect the mighty Sullivan Rage.”

“You’re going to make me tell all of them, aren’t you?”

“You don’t think you should? That we should?”

Tristan warned you.

I closed my eyes for a second.  “I just wanted to keep you guys out of it.  Safe.”

“And I love you for it,” Tia said.  “I also hate you for it.  C’mon, Autumn.  All of us might as well be sisters.  We hate and love each other in equal measures and god knows that sometimes we don’t like each other very much, but at the end of the day, we’ve always got each other’s backs.  Hell hath no fury like a girl whose sister’s been threatened.”  The ghost of a smile curved her lips.  “Or, in this case, our not-so-innocent and beloved brother.”

I stared down into my coffee again.  “Well. I guess I’d better get dressed, then, huh?”

“If we want to catch Rin before she’s completely on the warpath?  Probably, yeah.”  Tia swirled her coffee in her mug.  “Should we call before we go see her?”

“No,” I said, gulping down my coffee in a few swallows.  “She’ll only want to know why I need to talk to her and I’m not going to break this news over the phone.”  Even though it might be easier if I did, she doesn’t deserve that.  I’ll eat her wrath in the face if I have to—hell. She’ll probably beat the snot out of me for not telling her sooner.

Still.  She and Austin had broken up—however temporary or not it might have been.  Maybe she’d just chalked his silence up to that.

Maybe she was over him.

Either way, I was going to find out whether I liked it or not.

“Let me get dressed,” I said quietly.  “Then we’ll go.”

“Sounds good,” Tia said, watching me as I crossed the living room.  “Do you mind if we make a stop on the way?”

I paused at the entrance to the hallway that led back to the bedrooms, arching a brow at her.  “No.  Where are we stopping?”

“My place,” she said, dark eyes sparkling.  “There’s something I need to pick up.”

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

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#MCJS #magical girls #magical girls fiction #trope subversion #Camp NaNoWriMo 2020 #fiction #amwriting #urban fantasy #The Magic Crystal Justice Squad

[moomingitz]

If youre uncomfortable replying to this you can stop here. What are your thoughts on crushers Oc Lutrudis?

I’m going to paraphrase this right now. I never really feel comfortable saying what I think of other people’s creations like fan characters when someone who isn’t the creator asks me for my thoughts on them. Even when it comes to easy targets like Akiadahlia. I know fans are just doing this sort of thing on their free time as just a hobby, they’re not pursuing a career and they’re not getting a regular salary for it. For the average fan it’s something they do as a means of escape, and while I don’t really find much of a need to make Sonic fan characters myself most of the time(because there’s a stockpile of canon characters to work with) I do see the appeal in it.

But, I am going to make an exception here, due to how the creator clearly doesn’t respect other fan’s tastes or their works and efforts, saying lovely things like how I and other fans who like or defend characters like Chris Thorndyke have a “talent for seeing a character that doesn’t exist”, being dismissive of other’s AUs or interpretations of characters by saying “I understand seeing potential in a character but they may as well be a completely different character guuuys” but then expects people to write his personal favorites the way he thinks they should be portrayed, mocking and demeaning the very idea of people defending or unironically liking games like Sonic 06 and admiring it’s ambition it had, etc. And he still does it.

So if you really want my honest, unfiltered opinion of his fan character, I will break this personal unwritten rule of mine for this. But keep in mind here, that I will be talking about them in terms of their character design for most of the part, because I don’t really care to look up much stuff about them.

—-

Remember that one rant of mine a long while back, how “hooved” type Sonic characters, official or fan made, tend to be a big victim of the franchise’s Same Faced Syndrome thing in character design? Well this Lutrudis character is a good example of that. She’s one of the most generic looking horse Sonic fan characters I’ve seen in a long time.

She’s not only a good example of Same Faced Syndrome, but it’s also an offender of “informed species”. I honestly thought she was a cow until I read that she was meant to be a horse. This character doesn’t really have much of an actual significant resemblance to a horse, even as far as more simplified representations of animals go. She has more resemblance to the Sonic franchise’s takes on monkey characters more than she does with anything from the equus genus.

All I did was swap out the tail and ears and she instantly became a monkey.

To go even further and show just how cookie cutter it is, and the lack of an effort to make her resemble a horse in an actual significant way, that she may as well be a completely different species, here’s what she looks like when the only single modification I made was giving her a standard mammalian nose instead of there being visible nostrils.

She uses the same base body used for Amy, Sticks, Wave, Blaze, and countless other Sonic fan characters out there, and then slapped on interchangeable design characteristics. A perfectly spherical head with a standard Sonic muzzle, same standard almost triangular or curvy torso, and the same rubber hose arms and legs. It’s what I like to call an assembly line Sonic character design. Lutrudis here looks like she could have come out from the custom character thing in Sonic Forces. At best she looks like she could be one of the many nameless, generic looking background characters in post-reboot Archie that were meant to fill in the background space. If she was meant to just be a nameless background character than this would have been tolerable. But her creator didn’t intend for to be one. She’s apparently not only supposed to be a major character, but she’s also apparently supposed to be Sonic’s damn love-interest. So I will come down hard on this. And I hate to sound like some angry “fem-nazi”, but I’m also just sick of seeing female Sonic characters in official media alone using this cookie cutter design base in general.

I don’t expect people to be masters at designing more unusual species as sonic characters, but at least do something more than just adding visible nostrils on the muzzle. Give them a more unique head shape or body type more closely resembling a horse, or even just give them a unique muzzle instead of a standard Sonic one. Anything, please.

It’s like when I finally learned how Tiara Boobowski was actually intended to be a manx, despite looking exactly like the franchise’s idea of a hedgehog.

My not-so positive opinion of her character design isn’t just because I think it’s a poor representation of her intended species. I can get over Sonic barely resembling an actual hedgehog, Knuckles an echidna, because their character designs themselves look appealing. This isn’t the case with Lutrudis. I think she just looks kind of boring in general. She just doesn’t look that appealing to me.

The outfit and attire doesn’t look like it had much rhyme or reason behind it. It’s just kind of dull. The gloves are at least pretty unique looking, but unfortunately that’s undermined by how plain everything else is. It looks like someone went clothes shopping at Wal-Mart, buying the most plain basic t-shirt, shorts, and bandana, trying to dress up as their super hero alter ego, only to end up not looking as cool as they envisioned it would look.

Having both the tail and ponytail as not only the same shapes, but long, makes the silhouette look both kind of busy but also kind of redundant. Like looking at Snooki’s big hairstyle stacked on top of each other.

I don’t know what he was thinking with putting that green together with not only a bright ass primary blue, but putting that bright brown color together with them, but it doesn’t look the most pleasing to the eye.(Assuming he even designed the character himself and just didn’t have someone else do it for him.) They all look like they’re battling for dominance. Even with the lighter toothpaste green I’ve seen her colored in to break things up, the bright primary blue and bright brown still clash against each other.

And I usually don’t like to make presumptions about creators with their OCs, but, I get the vibe here that this guy is possibly just using Sonic more as a stand-in for himself with his OC. It’s always kind of brow raising whenever a person says they aren’t a shipper and think romance is icky, until it involves their own OC who was not only obviously tailor made to be their ideal waifu, but the canon character they’re pairing up with their OC is one they’ve said they don’t like.

What’s frustrating about this is how a species like horses aren’t used that much when it comes to Sonic characters, yet it’s done in the most safe and bland way possible. The character design does have potential, but whatever it is it’s held back by the common crutches people rely on whenever they design an anthro Sonic character, both official and fan made.

I really don’t expect fans to be pro artists or character designers. But when the creator of the OC in question is not only a rude elitist prick who shits on or demeans other fans for things like “seeing a character that doesn’t exist”, always complains about non-game Sonic characters having either boring or generic character designs, but also seems to really love jerking himself off over how totes unique and awesome his fan character is unlike other lowly fan characters or even canon characters; this is the best he can do? This is what he has to show for it? A bland, cookie cutter looking and sounding character? Believe it or not, but sometimes, “I would like to see you do better.”, is appropriate.

Though him and his ilk are probably just going to find any desperate way to make this about me being an evil Chris fan, and maybe even cherry pick one of my Chris redesigns to “prove” that I’m a hack fraud who has only ever done that and nothing else. If he is even reading this(I’m sure he is because he really loves hate follow people).

#character design #opinions #rant #awaits possible backlash #asks

[spadescrib]

i don’t think i would be as annoyed with the color scheme change if they hadn’t stressed in their announcement post how it was done for accessibility and therefore was 100% going to make things easier to read for everyone.

“The blue is darker, the grays are lighter, all the buttons and icons are brighter with our new brand colors, and it has a contrast ratio of 7.87:1 What does that mean? Good! Very good.”

“Goodbye, #36465D. You’ve treated many of us well, but #001935 will treat every single one of us even better.” 

the intent is good! 

however...

let’s just take this as an opportunity to learn about web design and why you should always give your users the option to toggle accessibility features. 

you’ll notice most websites that have a night/dark mode (which is similar to what this is) or something like it very rarely will have dark backgrounds with light/dark contrast like this as the default.

there are reasons for that.

the first problem with this as the default is that the majority of people likely have at least some level of astigmatism, which causes bright objects to look fuzzy or haloed

from here.

white text on a dark background is damn near unreadable & the bright white post boxes are absolutely headache inducing if you have this condition

then there’s the matter of dyslexia. exact details on what is and isn’t good for helping readability with dyslexia aren’t really clear cut - everyone has their own preferences - but for the most part, high contrast between text & background are kinda the last thing you want to do if you’re trying to increase accessibility

the Web Accessibility Initiative of the World Wide Web Consortium says this on contrast ratios:

Some people cannot read text if there is not sufficient contrast between the text and background, for example, light gray text on a light background.

High contrast (for example, dark text on light background or bright text on dark background) is required by some people with visual impairments, including many older people who lose contrast sensitivity from ageing.

While some people need high contrast, for others — including some people with reading disabilities such as dyslexia — bright colors (high luminance) are not readable. They need low luminance.

Web browsers should allow people to change the color of text and background, and web pages need to work when people change colors.

astigmatism and dyslexia affect ~30% & ~10% or more of the population respectively. that’s a pretty big chunk of people getting kinda fucked over by this change that was supposed to “treat every single one of us better”

disabilities don’t play nice with each other. there is no one-size-fits-all fix. sometimes (oftentimes, even), the thing that makes things better for one person with one problem will make things 10x worse for a different person with a different problem.

tl;dr: you should always give your users the option to toggle accessibility features.

#p #i know it's tempting to just roll your eyes at people getting annoyed by this update #bc people complain every time staff moves a single pixel on this site #but like there are actual reasons to be kinda annoyed by this one #i feel so bad for the actual employees tbh like god can you imagine having to be this site's pr person

[tamaki-amajiki-is-my-baby]

Finally got the girlies done! :D!! Click for better quality!

This is Karite Shinsoroki, Hinagiku Bakugo-Midoriya, and Tami Togata!

I definetly did not do Tami's adorable ass outfit justice here-

There's a lot of things wrong with the outfits, but I couldn't really change;

Karite usually has a greenish color sweater she wears around her elbows, but that's very hard to draw and I didn't know how to layer the hair and everything, and not hide her!

Hinagiku should be wearing All Might merch.

Tami almost always is wearing the same cape that Tamaki wears. It just goes down to her knees, so I obviously didn't draw it since I want you to see her.

Quirks:

Karite ~ Loan

Whenever she brainwashes someone, either her ice or her fire gets transfered to them. She can't use the person's original quirk, she has to give one of her's up.

She can't choose whether she gives them ice or fire, it's a 50/50 chance, and so she usually won't make plans that aren't flexible in that aspect.

She can't use whichever quirk she gives up.

She activates the brainwashing the same way Shinso does.

Hinagiku ~ Explosion

Her sweat, tears, and pretty much everything else is the same nitroglycerin like substance as her father.

Smells even more like caramel than he does.

Tami ~ Permiation/Manifest

Nothing special; just both her dad's quirks. She has a lot more trouble using both at the same time, however, and she much prefers Permiation.

Appearances

Karite:

She has tanned skin, blue/purple and grey/purple eyes, and dark purple hair with red and white at the tips on the left and right sides respectively.

She really likes high waisted shorts with tank tops, and those are usually in greyscale, with a poofy greenish jacket to add some color.

Rocks those moccasins.

Hinagiku:

She has green eyes, pale skin, and green hair at the top with pristine blond further down, worn in two ponytails that she drapes over her shoulders.

Almost always seen in All Might merch. She's still holding onto him after over a decade.

When she's not, she doesn't have the best fashion sense and will throw a shirt under one of the many cute suspender-skirts she has.

Of course, you can't forget her bright red shoes that go with nothing she wears, but refuses to change!

Tami

Tami is a mini Tamaki — dark indigo eyes, darker skin, and indigo hair that she wears like Mirio used to in high school.

She likes cute strapless dresses that go down to a bit above her knees, and will wear a lighter color long sleeve shirt over it. They usually have some other poofy transparent fabric over those sleeves, which she only wears cos she thinks it's adorable. And it is.

She's usually wearing sandals, and her usually color palette is warm colors with a bit of very whitish-greens as accents or backgrounds.

Fun facts! :D

- Tami's cape is made with the fibers of her hair, so it permeates with her just like Mirio's cosume does!

She's actually allowed to wear the cape + hood in school as long as it's not over her head, since it helps with her self-consciousness, most of her being covered up by it.

- Mirio finds it really funny that Tami's doing the same thing with her hair as he did. She used to wear it just like Tamaki does, and then she switched to a half ponytail, and she's gone back to the Tamaki look a few times.

- Tami is demisexual and currently questioning whether she likes Hinagiku back.

Despite her having.. Y'know... Two fathers, she's still nervous to come out and hasn't yet. It's alright, Tami, take your time.

- Since Tamaki is a name you could use for either gender, Mirio really wanted to name her Tamaki!

But Tamaki got nervous, and asked the what if's like 'what if we break up and you have to say my name?'

Other than that, though, it would be confusing.

So they took the first letter of each of their names and boom! たミ! Tami!

- She has an incredible amount of respect for both dads, and she designed her hero costume after both of them.

And her fighting style. She sinks into the ground, then seems to warp just like Mirio does. Go for the gut!

- She has the same anxiety as Tamaki, it's really bad. But she still tries to smile! She doesn't want people to worry about her, so she smiles!

It also helps her whenever she's heroing, by making her feel like she can get through anything, and making the people she's saving feel safer.

But of course, like everything, this has a downside.

She hates it whenever she can't force her smiles and will get overwhelmingly angry with herself if she can't find a reason to smile about a situation.

~ Hinagiku is actually kind of an asshole, she just doesn't realize she's being really mean sometimes.

It used to really hurt her, because she had trouble keeping friends, and she's very scared of loosing Tami now.

Though, she's getting better at pinpointing behavior, apologising, and keeping an eye out for it.

~ She's still questioning. When she got close to Tami, she realized that all her previous 'crushes' weren't crushes at all! She thought she was pansexual, but she's not sure now.

She doesn't know the term for only being attracted to one person. She doesn't find any other girls pretty in that way, or boys handsome in that way.

~ Isn't very good with her volume due to her quirk. Needs and has hearing aids. Blew her ears-

She can hear without them, but just barely, and she won't be able to decipher what you're saying. She does know you're talking, though.

~ for being Japanese, she's very touchy-feely!

She loves hugs and holding hands and never leaves Tami alone even when there in public.

However, she can recognize when Tami doesn't want her to, and will stop. She's very observant in this way.

~ She's a hero fanatic. She knows everything about them all, including their real names.

She's still in absolute awe of (who she seee as) her girlfriend being the daughter of the #1 hero couple!!

And of course she's in awe of hereself being the daughter of the #1 standalone hero.

~ Hina knows sign language! When she realized she was loosing her hearing, she quickly picked up some books and started learning for her life.

It's also to understand her best friend Ogoe-de, who developed a vocal condition called aphonia when they were around four. She has a lot of trouble understanding why he's so sad about that, but it's probably because of his quirk depending on hisbvoice and him being loud. Poor thing. I'll get to him when I drae the guys.

Them being her, Karite, and him. They've known each other for a while!

• Karite is like super smart.

She's got really good problem solving skills, planning ahead, and is just snarr in general.

Because of this high bar, anything even slightly below it leaves her on her knees.

Almost literally.

• She is bisexual with a preference toward men.

Loves Ogoe-de more than she loves herself-

She hasn't told her dads about her sexuality, but she's not hiding it at all. She doesn't see the need to make it a big deal, and do she doesn't. They've never properly had a talk about it and she doesn't feel they need to.

• She's very aloof and barely shows emotions. Just like her dads.

Only exception is around her friends, where she's surprisingly sassy.

• She keeps Hinagiku under control.

“Stop harrassing Tami”

“I'm loving her!!”

• She uses the same tricks that Shinso used when he was young.

“Dad can we get McDonald's”

• She doesn't use her power willy nilly, though.

• Whenever they train, Hinagiku is usually he one she brainwashes. Both because she's very agile and because... She's really damn easy to brainwash.

She does volenteer, though! Karite wouldn't do that to her if she didn't allow it.

Ogoe-de doesn't understand why she doesn't just use him, and she tells him it's because he doesn't need the help of her quirk to become a good hero.

He disagrees.

It's one of the only things they don't agree upon, but they're working on it.

The boys and villians are coming soon, as well as the girl's hero costumes!

#bnha #bnha art #shippy drawings #shitty drawings #drawings #bnha oc #bnha fanart #ship child #ship children #rare pair #bakugo x midoriya #katsudeku #izukatsu #shinso x todoroki #shinsoroki #miritama #mirio x tamaki

[duraxxor]

Brown- (all of the brown colours)

Brown - Where do you call home? 

“ Home. “ The single word uttered calmly as he allowed it to echo three times within the background. “ That is a term I haven’t really known for quite some time. Many would say that home is a place where your heart lies. Yet, my heart bears no sense of place. It bears a weight, one that would see that my own personal duties be fulfilled while accomplishing the goals of those who choose to stand at my side. My home isn’t a place... but a people. “ 

Mocha - How do you like your coffee? ( If you like coffee ) 

“ If I were to drink it, it would be as black as the abyss. Would I even be sure if it is coffee at all? “ 

Cinnamon - Which of the “Cinnamon Roll” memes fits you best? ( looks like they could kill but is actually a cinnamon roll, looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you, looks like a cinnamon roll and is actually a cinnamon roll, looks like they could kill you and could actually kill you, or sinnamon roll. )

“ . . . Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now? Do I look like a dessert to you? “ 

Tawny - Cats or Dogs? ( or any animal for the matter )

“ Bats. “

Hickory - How smart are you? Would you consider yourself more book smart or street smart? 

“ I didn’t graduate the academy due to... circumstances. I like to say that I am above average in the intelligence. But when it comes down to between the books or the streets. Streets would be higher than the other, despite my fascination with that which is literary. “ 

Leather - How “basass” would you say you are? 

“ . . . What in the bloody hell are you talking about? “ 

Brunette - If you could change your hair color, what would you change it to? 

“ Is their a lighter tint of white? Or would that be considered nonexistence? “

Gingerbread - What is your favorite holiday? 

“ Hallow’s End. “ 

Penny - If you could make a substantial living doing anything, what would you do? 

“ Something to do with the use of my secretive abilities that I will not mention. Only those that truly learn of who I am and what I stand for will learn this secret. “ 

Chocolate - Do you like chocolate? If so, what your favorite way to eat it? 

“ I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, pardon my sins. “ A light chuckle exited his lips as he covered his mouth. 

Chestnut - Have you ever ridden an animal? If so, which one? 

“ Do you women count? “  As the joke settled in, the man couldn’t help but cackle uncontrollably. Oh how hard it was to contain himself so that he could take the question seriously. “ I jest. Well, do worgs and bats, count? “ 

Umber - Who do you call your friend? How many Friends do you have? 

“ If I told you, I would have to kill you before the thought entered your thoughts. “

Carob - What do you look for in a friend?  

“ This is a simple question. Trust and loyalty, of course. Can you truly call someone a friend if you do not trust them at all? “ 

Caramel - How much does sugar affect you? 

“ Baby, I don’t need sugar. I’m the sweetest damned thing in all of Azeroth.~ “ 

Mahogany - What is your moral alignment? ( Lawful good, neutral good, chaotic good, lawful neutral, true neutral, chaotic neutral, lawful evil, neutral evil, chaotic evil )

“ I suppose chaotic neutral? Though, I’m sure some would declare me to be the more evil of the path. “ 

Peanut - Do you have any allergies? 

“ Not anything that is seriously referred to as a allergy, more like a bane to my existence. “ 

[ Thank you @cashew-qq ! ]

[the-canary]

Sunburst - S.R (3/10)

Summary: After years of solitude, you sought out the color of life – you just didn’t think it would end up like this. (Enhanced!Reader/Steve Rogers). 

Prompt: “I think I just asked out on a date.”

Masterlist

A/N: This is for @captain-ariel-barnes writing challenge. not the best chapter, but we are getting there!

Feedback is always appreciated.

Part 1 | Part 2 

It’s strange at first when you decide to spend the morning --after your first week--  drawing around the Avengers’ Compound . You had tried your hardest to find a place where you could see all the forest area that reminded you of home, but not to far from your room.  You trailed a bit from the central facility and towards the smaller buildings, but never crossing the road. You sat down on the grassy area and began to draw the early morning light. Grays and blacks mixed together as you sketched different areas, slowly you headed to the other side of the building and caught of a glimpse of the river. That’s when you catch it, a blur of blue running down the road, against the dark colored backdrop you can’t help that it catches your attention.

It’s the saturation, the deep deep blue, makes you realize who it is -- Captain Rogers.

You have to wonder briefly what could have happened to America’s Golden Boy for him to have such a color. In your lifetime and in the limited understanding you had of your powers, the deeper the color usually meant there were some deep sadness connected to their central personality it, but that changes depending on their emotions -- pops and flashes of lighter colors would usually indicate this. However, between the moment you had met him and now, there was no change whatsoever.

What the hell could that mean?

“Good morning,” a voice drags you out of your thoughts, as you jump and look up to see him looking at your direction. Still startled but not wanting to be rude, you give him a small wave before picking up your items. He runs, a streak of blue almost as dark as the forest canopy, and you can’t help but frown a light.

“I’m gonna need some water colors now,” you murmur to yourself as you get up and head back inside.

In your annoyance, you try to ignore that details you are remembering --in the details of the area, of his face and stature-- that the artist inside of you now wants to have blooming in front of you.

A beam of blue on a dark day, a light amidst the darkness -- it almost suits Captain Rogers too well.

 Wanda knows it from the moment she sees you sitting across the kitchen countertop. She can feel it in the air and sense it in the way of just how closed your mind is to everything else. As open and friendly the kitchen is designed to look, you still feel like a caged animal with hunched shoulders and a tight grip on  the little book in your hands.

Just like you know her background, Wanda knows that you have been living in the forest of Upstate New York for quite some time, hidden yourself from the world with only your agent being the main contact for you. It echoed loudly enough for everyone that you were hiding something, but Wanda knew the moment she sees you. The moment that you played more attention --for whatever reason-- to the center of her body more than anything else.

“Ms. Maximoff, it good to meet you,” you state while getting up from your seat. She smiles, magenta lightens up into a softer version, but you can’t help but notice there is a blur bright blue at her core, though it quick disappears as it appeared.

“Wanda’s just fine,” she explains as you nod. She states that it is her turn to cook dinner for the rest of team and you wholeheartedly agree to help. It had surprised her that you didn’t want to interview her or have her standing in some strange position while you painted her, instead you had asked her to think of something she enjoyed doing and you could either watch or even join her. She chose cooking dinner for the rest of the team that was here.

“What are we making tonight?” you question, while going over the other side of the kitchen as she takes out a large pot alongside some meat and a variety of vegetables. It all causes you to look at her curiously since you are used to making dinner for one person and even then only a few days of leftovers, not a whole army as Wanda seems prepared to do.    

“Some beef and vegetable stew,” she remarks, as she motions to to start cutting the vegetables while she proceeds to rub more things onto the already marinated meat, as she places the pot onto the stove with some oil and cut onions.  

“Do you all eat this much?” you can’t help but ask with wide eyes, as she laughs -- her red flaring into at the question.

“If we don’t portion it correctly, Steve and James would eat this all on their own,” Wanda explains, as all you do is nod, though still not fully grasping how much Captain America and the former Winter Soldier could eat.  The two of you ease into a steady but tense silence of unspoken questions as you finish cutting all the necessary ingredients as Wanda starts adding things here and there. She is taking a taste of the broth when she turns to look and ask the one thing that breaks everything that you have been avoiding.

“Could you hand me the paprika?” she questions, while pointing to the where all the spices were located. You frown, but do what she asks anyway, until you see nothing but dark leaves and a variety of gray containers.  

“Paprika?” you question, looking at the cabinet in confusion since everything back at home is marked with a label to denote which spice is which.

You turn and see her red is a bit darker than before in suspicion as she finally decides to thread the murky water, “It’s not synesthesia, is it?”

“Sometimes, people don’t see anything but your powers,” you say, not confirming or answering her question, though surprising even yourself at how bitter you sound (how dark the pink in the corner of your eyes pops at the memories) towards the end as you look away, “To be used, forgetting there’s a person underneath for convenience.”

“Not everyone is like that,”  Wanda chides in once more, feeling that this might be the only chance she gets before you completely shut her out, “There is always going to be someone willing to give you a helping hand, for you to trust, though I’ll admit it is a long road.”

“Then, you are a very lucky person,” you state before going back to the spice cabinet and bringing out 3 different containers -none which are the damn paprika- to her, only to have her shake her head. And while you still feel a bit troubled after the conversation, you can’t help but smile just a bit at the reminder of the limitations that you haven’t seen in such a long time.

After all that, the rest of the meal prep time is spent exchanging pleasantries of more comfortable childhood memories that come with the dish you are making, what it means working in your vastly different careers, and most of all music. As she mentions she is trying to learn how to play guitar and you mention that you sort of know you way around the clarinet, though you can’t agree on what was the better decade of music since you were both all over the place.

“This was very lovely, Wanda,” you say tersely, while drying your hands an hour later as the dishes are almost done, unsure of when was the last time you actually cooked a meal with someone, but overall enjoying the experience.  

“The invitation is always open, even if you just want to come and eat with us,” Wanda says like a mother trying to appease their child, as you give her a small nod but decide not to take her advice, it’s too new and raw for now. It’s better to let it dry and crack for awhile.  

“I--Thank you,” is all you manage to say before getting your plate and leaving the kitchen area to go back to hiding in your room, as she shakes her head though she knows by experience that things like this take time. However, if she wants to gain your trust, she knows that she will have to stay quiet about your powers for now, as you grow more accustomed to the other Avengers. So, as they all come bustling in, she stays quiet over the issue, though she does answer curious questions here and there.   

After meeting with Wanda a few more times (even Vision for a moment by accident), you realize that this isn’t going to be a normal art project anymore. You don’t know how this will all end up and while you are apprehensive about how it might connect to your powers, you take a deep breath before taking the next steps. As you get up one night and head to the art room designed for you, the soft lights of the colors welcoming you once more -- the only thing you have ever really needed.

“Let’s get to work,” you murmur as you get one of the easels and place it down on the floor before getting several shades of a certain color, as you paint the rest of the night away.  

Swirls of red, old recipes book pages, a dash of campanulas , a little sage and spice with a flash of blue for loss and a bit of gloss for the potential of something more, of finally being in a place that can finally be called home.

This is Wanda Maximoff to you, though you don’t plan on showing her just yet.

 It starts off simple enough by seeing the artwork placed proudly on display in Pepper’s office, another piece finds it way into Tony’s soon afterwards. There is a small pamphlet of your works laying about that catches his attention and he finds himself looking over it, again and again. He questions what techniques you used, the shading and position of the designs, and he can help but wonder what caused the change between your darker works and this more rustic series.

He’s curious, and then he hears that there is a small expo of your latest sets of work -- the ones you did before the Avengers project came up. He knows you aren’t going to be there -- you never go to these sorts of things and he knows you are back at the Compound, having chosen it over the Tower.   

With his mind made up, Steve goes as discreetly as he possibly can -- only for Nat to give him a small smile as she makes it out of the gym and crosses his path on the way to the elevator.

“Ohh,” she coos, already memorizing the situation and saving it for later, “Where are you going?”

“Art exhibit,” Steve states, knowing it's pretty much useless by now to lie to one of his closest friends, though not really giving her the reason why.

“By our resident artist,” she states more than questions with a grin, like she already knows something that Steve doesn’t -- not yet anyways. However, she decides to keep to herself for now, “Have a good time.”

“Thanks,” Steve says with a confused uptick in his voice, obviously expecting more from the Russian, as she just shrugs and gets out of his way. Green eyes stay locked on his figure until she sees him disappear after entering the elevator.

“Hmm, is he going for the art or the artist,”  she murmurs to herself in question before heading towards a certain birdman’s room to talk about the blond’s non-existent love life.  

Part 4 

#captainarielbarnes4k #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve grant rogers x reader #fabiola trying to write #series: sunburst

[fibula-rasa]

The Vamps — Part Two: Theda Bara and the Star Image

Theda Bara was born in the shadow of the Egyptian pyramids–the daughter of a French actress and an Italian sculptor. Her betrothed is a skeleton.

Theodosia Goodman was born to a middle-class family in Cincinnati, Ohio. She was the daughter of a Jewish haberdasher.

In the early years of the film industry, there were no stars. Film producers knew that allowing for name recognition would empower their performers to make demands–like greater pay. So, the performers in films were routinely uncredited. Around 1910, that began to change. When The Biograph Girl, as she was known, moved to a different studio, her name was finally made known to the public: Florence Lawrence.

An aside: If this seems wild to you, think about modern television commercials. Before he jumped to a different company, how many people repeated the phrase “Can you hear me now?” without knowing the actor (Paul Marcarelli) from the Verizon commercials? Nowadays, what with google and social media, this isn’t quite as common but, still, How many people know the names of those Sonic guys (who are clearly in purgatory btw) but know their gags well? (Their names are T.J. Jagodowski and Peter Grosz.)

Once Florence Lawrence became The First Movie Star, it didn’t take long at all for the trappings of the star image’s constructed reality to develop. Movie fan press began covering the “private lives” and habits of performers. Studio employees built biographies for film performers that better matched their on-screen personas than their actual background. The performers themselves were variably complicit in the smoke and mirrors act. That’s not to suggest that everyone accepted these tales as the gospel truth. Much of the gossip press and movie fans simply had fun with it. That’s right, smarks are as old as kayfabe.

Theda Bara’s burst onto the screen in 1914 was an immediate draw. As the concept of film stars was crystalizing the film star’s image was intentionally muddled with the characters that they interpreted for the screen. In Bara’s case, Fox studios started fleshing out Bara’s Vamp pedigree. The Vamp archetype itself had taken form over the past decade [see Part 1], but Bara would give life to the paradigm. That first biography above is what was reported to the fan press by Fox’s press agents. The skeleton boyfriend was suggested by the copy to accompany a promotional photo shoot where a scantily clad Bara drapes herself beside a prone skeleton. The ties to Spiritualism are clear. Death was by no means a finality to Bara’s romance.

Bara swiftly became one of the biggest stars of film in the teens–alongside Charlie Chaplin and Mary Pickford–The Vamp, The Tramp, and The Sweetheart. As movie fandom grew and the Los Angeles colony of filmmakers coalesced, concerns arose about the real, unconstructed lives of the performers. For Vamp types in particular, the question of their IRL morality was important to address in order to maintain their popularity. If anyone actually believed Bara was a sex-crazed goth, that could spell trouble for her career as the public began to care about film-star morality. In a May 1918 issue of Photoplay, Bara was asked about her morality to which she responded:

‘People write me letters,’ she said smilingly; ‘and they ask me if I am as wicked as I seem on the screen. I look at my little canary and I say “Dicky, am I so wicked?” And Dicky says, “Tweet, tweet.” That may mean “yes, yes,” or “no, no,” may it not?’

Coy and quirky answers aside, Bara continued to be a popular draw for Fox. In 1917, she took on the ultimate Vamp role, Cleopatra. The film is now believed lost, but at the time, it was her biggest hit. As her contract with Fox was running down, Bara began to campaign for non-Vamp roles. After that contract expired, that’s what she tried to pursue. It didn’t really work out and she eventually opted to retire from acting in 1926.

Bara made forty films in her roughly twelve-year-long film career. Unfortunately, only a handful of her films are still extant. So, how has Bara’s image persisted so strongly more than a century after her debut when there’s so little of her work for admires to engage with? Well, there’s a lot of potential answers to that question.

For one, the character of Theda Bara, the film star, was very well-limned and much of that promotional material has survived. The photographs and accompanying promotional copy paint a vivid picture that people still respond to today. I can tell to you that, as a teen, when I was encountering Bara’s photographs in a book I was immediately dedicated to seeing her films. The heartbreak that came with discovering how few of them exist and were readily available to watch in the late 1990s was real. It’s a story that’s still repeated today.

Bara’s acting style probably contributes to her persistent popularity as well. She was part of an acting tradition that involved the repetition of specific expressions and gestures to interpret a characters’ emotions. This style translates beautifully into still photographs. It’s not a stretch to suggest that it’s easier with Bara than many other lost film stars to extrapolate what their films and performances were like.

Also, Bara herself lived on, continuing to play with her image–even parodying herself in her final film appearance in 1926.

Additionally, by chance, one of Bara’s most popular surviving films is A Fool There Was (1914), the film that officially solidified the Vamp archetype. From the material we have, film fans and scholars can use Bara handily to build narratives about the emergence of the star system and fan interaction. So, Theda Bara, The Vamp, has lived on regardless of the dearth of surviving film. Feels pretty Spiritualist in itself, eh?

Learn How to Get the Look BELOW THE JUMP

The Costume

To build yourself a Theda Bara costume, this are the key elements I would focus on:

The Makeup

Bara did her own makeup and costuming for many of her films. It was common practice at the time. So, like later-Cleo Elizabeth Taylor, Bara’s makeup is pretty consistent across her films. Authenticity be damned though, because you are making a costume for fun in 2018, not to be photographed on orthographic film in 1918. I chose maroon-red for my eyeshadow because I thought it would be more striking and, in black and white, would photograph darker than a cooler shade.

The key shape is curvy, elongated eyeshadow in a single color, well blended into a dark liner shade. Bara has pretty round eyes, so you’ll likely want to line your waterline with a lighter shade–white if you wanna be really striking, a nude lighter than your skin tone if you wanna play it low key. Your eyebrows should be straight and drawn out as long as the eye makeup.

The lip shape is small, but not a pucker-pout. Focus on the sharpness of the cupid’s bow. I chose a color in harmony with the eyeshadow, but any deep red or pink would do.

Blush and contour? Skip it. First because you need to cherish the gothy pallor. Second because it would look incongruous with this makeup style. Film stars of the era didn’t typically wear rouge because, on film, it would come off as a deep shadow. The gaunt look wasn’t very fashionable.

The Hair

You have lots of freedom here. Bara had long, thick, and curly hair but as bobs became more fashionable, she often pinned it up into a messy faux-bob. The latter is what I went with. I brushed and pinned the hair on the crown of my head forward to make an era-appropriate pouf.

Head gear is a good choice. I actually pinned a necklace into my hair but if you have any art-nouveau or ancient-Egypt inspired pieces, you’re set. It might sound a little wild, but a dead flower crown would be so on brand.

The Clothes

Scanty. The most important skin to flaunt is around your neck and collar bones. For dress/skirt length, you should go close to floor-length if possible. The fabric should ideally be drapey and/or gauzy. Now, if it’s cold where you are around Halloween, an extra-large scarf would be a good call.

Read Part One

Part Three: Pola Negri & Exoticism coming Thursday!

#The Vamps #vampires #Vamps #Theda Bara #silent film #silent movies #silent era #1910s #1920s #film stars #movie stars #cosplay #closet cosplay #classic film #classic movies #film blog #film #movies #makeup #vintage beauty #beauty #film history #makeup tutorial #vintage #vintage fashion #Vintage Hair #vintage inspired #teens #Retro #Halloween

[pinchofpeppers]

September Art Guide

Around early August I promised myself that I’d draw something every day. Within this month, I’ve found myself more than once staring at a blank page and feeling equally blank myself, not quite knowing what to draw. This clearly wasn’t working that great. There obviously had to be a change. So, with September coming around the corner, I’ve decided that I’m going to experiment with a hand-written guide to follow every day to keep myself from that same damned blank piece of paper. I thought it might be fun if someone else wanted to do it as well.

Blurb of inspiration I wrote for myself:

No matter the skill, no matter how poor or how good, just draw every day, and soon enough, you’ll make enough mistakes for you to be better.

1) If you play games, especially online games, draw your favorite character in your favorite loadout (i.e. Scout from Team Fortress 2, Mccree from Overwatch, or your own character from Elder Scrolls Online). As a bonus, have them doing something action-packed. If you don’t play games, draw your favorite character from a movie or book, with the same concept in mind--your favorite outfit you’d like to see them in.

2) Draw an elderly fellow. They could be tall or short, man or woman, kindly or uptight. Cast them in scarves and jackets, or give them a swimsuit to bathe in the sun. Draw them full-body, and try to keep them as average and normal as possible. This means no cut abs, no sexy body. There will be rolling flesh and tubby tummies.

3) Draw a mythical creature. Any of your choosing, even if it’s one you’ve designed yourself. To challenge yourself, add a background as well.

4) Draw something emotive. Someone weeping over a lost loved one. Someone terrified or in jolly cheer. They can be anyone or anything. A sunflower in the mid-summer, or a dead spider. Focus heavily on color today.

5) Draw food. Try to be extravagant with it. Draw a gourmet meal or some food with an unusual sauce. Add something to it that you wouldn’t expect, but would be appetizing nonetheless.

6) Draw your chosen character eating that food!

7) As an ode to the last days of summer, draw something beached themed! This could range from your favorite characters lounging in the sand to drawing the port settled right on the beach.

8) Take a break from your creative side and do some studies. Anatomy, light, perspective--whatever you like. Maybe even all three.

9) Draw an original character. If you don’t have one, make one up! As a challenge, try to give them flowing clothes to work on learning wrinkles in different types of cloth.

10) Draw some shoes. Tennis shoes, ballet shoes, hiking shoes; just draw some shoes. Fill up the page with them.

11) Grab an old picture that you drew years ago and draw it again. You might surprise yourself to see how much you’ve improved.

12) Draw the interior of a building. It can be the interior right in front of you, one that you’ve made up, or one from reference (which is highly advised). If this seems boring or overwhelming, try to squeeze the interior into a small box that you’re looking at from the outside.

13) Challenge yourself to go outside, sit on a bench, and draw the people passing by you. “Drawing from life” as it’s called, is quite valuable to improving your skill as an artist, giving you varieties in clothes, features, and poses. They don’t have to be detailed, but try to fill the page with little sketches of people walking by, their purses or backpacks swinging to and fro.

14) Another break day for your creative mind. Do more studies!

15) Draw the contents of your backpack or purse. If you don’t carry either of these, draw the contents of your desk or bedside drawer.

16) Draw something excitable. A character jumping up and down, two characters laughing boisterously over a joke, or a soldier waving a flag triumphantly. It doesn’t even need to be some characters. Maybe a balloon in mid pop, or a drop of water falling in a pond.

17) If you’re able, go to a cafe and let the atmosphere swarm around you. Draw a coffee, or something calming, like a character nestled in the corner of the very same cafe you’re at. Even if you’re not able to go to a cafe, listen to cafe music on YouTube to spur you in the mood.

18) Draw some plants! Potted plants, little spruce trees, sticks, and leaves. Fill the page with them! To challenge yourself, ink and color them afterwards.

19) If you have a couple art friends, draw one of their OCs and tag them through social media, or give it to them in person. Even if you don’t have any “art friends,” find one of your favorite artists and draw one of their original characters. Or, if you’re not comfortable with either, look up children drawings on Google and try to recreate them.

20) Use your original OC, or your favorite character from a book, game, or movie, and change the genre. If they are from a medieval era, move them to a steampunk or 1800s Japan era. If they are from the modern era, throw them into the Wild Western era. So on and so forth.

21) Have you ever seen merchandise for your favorite show or game, where the character has been shrunk into a cute little keychain charm, or a little button? Make your own charm or button design of your chosen character!

22) Draw something that you don’t usually draw. If you typically draw male characters, draw a woman instead. If you typically don’t draw backgrounds, take the time to draw a background. If you don’t draw plants very often, draw plants. Draw a dog, or a chicken. To challenge yourself, combine objects.

23) Draw or paint something bold. A red flower in the midst of a black and white field. A lonesome chicken in an empty coop. A girl in a yellow jacket in 1940 America. If you don’t have that wide of variety of markers, don’t have watercolors or paint, or even a digital program, then use your pencil to make your one subject lighter than all of the other objects.

24) Draw the contents of a purse or bag you think a character of your choice would have. Focus on cross-hatching for shading today.

25) Draw your favorite characters playing a sport.

26) Last break day! Do more studies.

27) Do you have a favorite day where you really liked the concept? Such as Day 18, or Day 11? Do it again! If you don’t have a favorite, draw a human version of your pet or your friend’s pet.

28) Draw someone with facial hair. An old man with a curled up goatee, or a Viking with braids in his beard.

29) Draw a character lying down or sleeping.

30) Make a call to October by drawing some Halloween outfits for your favorite characters!

I’ll be posting all days on this Tumblr art blog with the tag #septemberartguide. I encourage you to try it out as well! See you in September!

#septemberartguide #my art #september art

[cookinguptales]

The first two people who sent me one-word prompts sent “snow” and “flower” and I tried to incorporate both of those.

So have a story about a royal trying to deal with the magical flower petals raining down on her country. (Gen this time, change of pace.)

When Andira woke up that morning, there was a peculiar electricity in the air. She lay there in bed for a moment, staring up at her familiar patterned canopy and contemplating the sensation, before she finally sat up.

She eyed Rian, her assistant of many years, and took in her tense posture, the lines lurking beneath her eyes. "There's something wrong, isn't there?" Andira asked.

Rian hesitated. "Wrong might be too strong of a word, Second."

Andira sighed, then forced herself to shake off the last calming vestiges of sleep. "Talk to me, Rian," she said, even as she slowly rolled out of bed and started rummaging through her closet. "Court clothes or traveling clothes?"

"The Ruling First has not requested your appearance in court, Second. She did have a message for you, though."

"And that is?"

She could hear the barely-repressed smile in Rian's voice as she answered, "She said to keep to the capital proper and to, quote, 'keep your foolish head down'."

Andira snickered as she finally drew out clothing that would suit the occasion. Fine white trousers, and a tunic in royal scarlet. "Casual formal, then."

"Yes, Second."

Everyone in the capital already knew her face, so there was hardly any point in dressing down. These colors would lend her the authority she needed to investigate the cause of — she paused, foot half-in her trousers. "Rian, what is the problem, exactly?"

Rian hesitated. The woman wasn't exactly prone to silencing her thoughts around royalty; she'd been in their trusted circle for far too long. So it must have been uncertainty that was holding her tongue. "You might want to look out the window, Second," she said finally said, carefully.

Andira laced her trousers as she crossed the room — and then stopped short. "Suns above."

She'd never seen anything like it. She'd thought it was snow at first, but it wasn't, was it? Soft, white petals were raining down from the sky, which would have been surreal even if it had been the correct season. It was as if the entire palace had been covered by the canopy of one immense tree, and its petals were falling, slow and gentle, to the ground. Andira peered down at said ground, several stories below. It appeared that quite a bit of the petals had already fallen, if the piles outside her window were any indication. "How long has this been going on?"

"An hour or two," Rian responded. "Since around full dawn."

Damn. This is what she got for sleeping in. "They aren't dangerous, are they? No injuries?"

"No, Second. They're just... flowers."

Andira sighed. "So I'm headed to the learning center, am I?" she asked.

Rian cleared her throat, and Andira was sure of it, she was definitely holding back a laugh now. "If you think that's best, Second."

It had been Andira's idea to start the learning center. Moreover, it had been her idea to start the center so close to the palace. She'd thought it would be a good idea to bring the best and brightest to the capital to learn from the country's foremost experts. She'd believed it would help them learn the diplomatic skills they would surely need in addition to their natural talents, and that it'd be convenient to have close by in case the court wanted to check in on their progress. She still believed it, for that matter.

Even though it seemed that their nation's best and brightest tended to get in rather oversized trouble.

It hadn't exactly been a popular idea at the time, but there was a reason she was the Ruling Second in their country. She was known for her ideas and commitment to seeing them through, as well as a tongue quick enough to convince the Ruling First she was right. Andira had convinced her then, as she almost always did, but she was certain to get a ribbing from the rest of court in the coming days.

"Right, then," Andira said, taking her long staff from its holder next to her bed, just in case. "I'm off."

The learning center was in utter disarray when Andira walked inside, and she couldn't say that she was surprised to see it. They'd found the best in the land to oversee its operations, but it was quite the endeavor and still so new. There were so many students of all ages and backgrounds, and even setting aside their inherent talents, their needs were difficult to juggle proficiently. It wasn't unusual to walk in to find a minor emergency going on.

Though this one was a bit flashier than most, Andira was forced to admit. "May I speak to Master Jin, please?" she asked, and all movement in the building's front office ceased.

Melisande, one of the senior administrators at the center, slowly rose to her feet behind one of the desks. "Master Jin, Second?" she asked, quietly.

"Yes. Is he in, Melisande?" she asked.

Melisande nodded. Both she and Andira knew that Jin was in charge of the center's mage division. "Come with me, Second."

The two of them walked the center's winding corridors, passing by rooms and buildings and small fields that had been set aside for training. The fields were empty, too full of fallen blooms to use, and Andira couldn't help but sigh. A whole day wasted.

"This is an accident, I'm sure, Second," Melisande said, hesitantly.

"I'm sure," Andira replied. Whose accident was still up for debate.

Melisande finally stopped outside a plain door. It wasn't Jin's office, Andira knew. That was in an entirely different building. It was one of the magical training rooms, she believed, one of the ones they'd carefully spelled to be well-nigh indestructible.

Melisande breathed in, slow. "Master Jin is a very good instructor," she said.

"I know," Andira said. "I vetted him myself."

Melisande nodded. Andira had interviewed all of the staff members and experts that lived onsite, in fact. She was known for her thoroughness. "And his students — they try very hard, Second."

"I'm sure they do," Andira said. She knew how hard their scouts worked to find the most promising students. "Is it safe to enter?"

Melisande bit at her lower lip. "Yes, Second," she said, then reached out and knocked at the door. It was a smart knock, sharp and quick, but Andira had seen her hand shake just a bit before it had made contact.

There was a moment of silence, and then the door opened. Jin was standing there looking haggard, as if he hadn't slept in quite some time. What little hair he still possessed was winging up, like he'd been running his hands through it, and his skin was well lined. "Second," he said, a quiet greeting. He did not sound surprised to see her standing there.

"Master Jin," she returned politely. "May I come in?"

He closed his eyes for a moment and looked very, very old. "Yes, Second," he said, then stepped back so she could come inside.

She looked around the room. It appeared to be in good shape. No damage to the walls, and it was mostly devoid of furniture, but in a way that looked more purposeful and less like a student had botched a banishing spell.

In fact, all it seemed to contain was two chairs, a table, and one crying child. Andira looked at her for a minute, cataloging every detail, and then it clicked. "Oh," she said softly. "I see."

The girl was young, perhaps twelve summers at the most, and her dark hair had been pulled away from her face in a messy bun. She looked as if she had come from a town near the western sea, with what looked like violet eyes and skin a shade or two lighter than both Andira's and Jin's. Like many of their students, she'd come a long way from home.

Most importantly of all, though, she was cradling a short limb to her chest as she cried. It was hard to tell from here, but it looked to Andira like the girl's left arm ended just below her elbow, and that... That would make magic very difficult. Andira had heard that only the most skilled mages could signal spells one-handed. Most students never even attempted it.

Andira walked into the room, feeling Jin shadow her as she entered, and sat down in the chair across from the little girl. "Hello," she said, pitching her voice gentle. "I am Ruling Second Andira. May I know your name?"

The girl sat back in her chair a little and scrubbed at her eyes with her hand. Now that she wasn't clutching at her other arm, yes, Andira could see exactly what had caused today's little problem. Then the girl put her hand down in her lap and drew her other arm tight against her side, and Andira wondered who'd taught her to do that. It looked uncomfortable.

The girl looked up at her with wide eyes, and, well, Andira supposed she probably had never met a ranking member of the court before. "Ceena," she whispered. Then her eyes went impossibly wider and she quickly corrected herself. "My name is Adetta Ceena, Honored Second."

"Second will suffice," Andira corrected automatically. "Or you can simply call me Andira."

She heard Melisande shifting over by the doorway, and she could feel Jin's eyes on her back. Suns above, the man had always had such a piercing stare. In front of her, Ceena looked more nervous still. "Second," she repeated obediently, more of a mumble than anything.

"Thank you," Andira said, and then placed her staff on the table to the side of them and folded her hands in her lap. "Have you been outside to see our unusual weather today?" she asked.

Ceena stiffened. "Y-yes, Second," she said.

Andira paused, watching the girl's body language. Yes, this very clearly had been an accident, and not nearly so severe a one as she had feared. "I think it's rather pretty," she said evenly, "but I think the cleanup crews won't be as happy about it."

Ceena frowned, as if not quite sure what to make of Andira's statement. "I — I'm sorry," she said. Her eyes lowered to her lap. "The storm is my fault."

Andira shook her head. "'Storm' is too strong of a word, don't you think?" She paused. "As is 'fault'."

Behind her, she heard Jin blow out a low sigh. Relief, she supposed. Really, what had he expected her to do? Andira knew she could be exacting in her expectations, but she was hardly a monster. "Ceena is one of my best students," he said, and his voice sounded a little thick in his throat. "Despite her... limitations."

Andira tilted her head to the side, not taking her eyes off of the girl in front of her. "Ceena," she said, "I've not been gifted with magic myself, so maybe you can help me with something. Mages use hand signals to control their powers, correct?"

Ceena nodded slowly, her eyes darting back and forth between Andira and Jin. "Most — most of the signals require..." She swallowed, but then forced herself to continue. "Two hands. Second."

"That's what I thought," Andira replied. "Most mages need to train for their whole lives to spell one-handed, I've heard."

She nodded again, and the set of her shoulders went soft. Dejected. "Yes, Second."

Finally, Andira looked away. "Master Jin," she said, "do you have another chair you could use? You're looming."

Jin started, and from the corner of her eye, she could see him relax. Jin was a smart man. He knew an invitation to a conversation when he heard one. "One moment, Second," he said, and then — ah, of course. All he had to do was make a few motions and then a chair was there, ready and waiting for him.

Andira sighed. Mages. She'd never met one yet who hadn't been a bit flashy. "Please, sit," she said.

He did, and it was not lost on her that he positioned himself to the left of them and yet as close to between them as he could manage. He had always been protective of his pupils. That was one of the reasons she'd hired him.

"Master Jin," she said. "How long has Ceena been studying here with you?"

"Almost two seasons," he said promptly.

Andira closed her eyes for a moment. "I see," she said, and she did. Only two seasons of instruction and still just a child, and yet she was performing magic of this magnitude? No wonder the scouts had brought her here for training. "And have you approached the court about the magical researcher position you currently have open?"

Master Jin frowned. "Second?" he asked.

"Master Jin," she said, and gave him a very pointed look. "You have here a student of great potential who needs to learn one-handed spelling at a very young age. Am I correct?"

"Yes," he said slowly.

"And are you an expert in techniques used to teach one-handed spelling to..." She paused, finding her words. "Early students?"

His eyes widened in understanding. "I—"

"Yes," a small voice interrupted, and they both turned to see Ceena sitting up taller than she had so far all day. "Master Jin is — he's very, very good."

Andira raised her eyebrows. Loyalty. A good trait to find in a child so fierce. "Ceena, who taught you back in your village?" she asked.

Ceena hesitated. "My parents," she said.

Suns. Very little formal training, then. This child really was going to be a powerful mage one day. “Have you ever met with a magical researcher?" Andira asked.

Ceena wilted, just a little. "No..."

Andira knew that mages had been studying new ways of learning one-handed spelling. Mages were always studying new ways of learning everything. And she knew that as gifted as Jin was at teaching students with great power, he had never been much of a researcher. "I wish you had asked us for help, Master Jin," she said quietly, allowing the smallest bit of reproach to slip into her voice. "And I am grateful that it was not a more cataclysmic event that brought me to your classroom."

He was quiet for a moment. Then, "Yes, Second."

"Ceena," she said, and watched her straighten up in her seat. "Your loyalty is commendable, but as your Ruling Second, I must tell you that this teaching situation is no longer tenable."

Ceena hesitated and glanced quickly over at Jin.

"She means," he said heavily, "that your teaching cannot go on in this way."

Andira nodded. "Someone might get hurt," she said. "That someone may even be you or Master Jin."

Moons, this close to the palace, someone very powerful might get hurt, and what a headache that would be.

Ceena's short arm went even tighter against her rib cage, and Andira watched her breaths become shallower. "You—" she began, and her voice had gone very, very small. "You're not sending me away, are you? Please — please don't send me away. I promise I'll work harder."

And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? That was why Melisande had been so apologetic and Jin had been so tense. That had been why neither one of them had come to her with the concerns they should have. This was exactly what needed to change. "I'm not sending you away," she said. Then she glanced over at Jin. "And I'm not sending you away, either, Jin, stop looking so grim."

Ceena's eyes looked about ready to fall out of her head, though whether it was due to relief or the fact that someone had just referred to her teacher with such casualness was anyone’s guess. "You're not?"

"No, Ceena," she said, and allowed a small frown to line her face. "Did someone tell you that I might send you away?"

Ceena looked over at Jin again, clearly asking him what she should say, and he simply nodded. "I..."

"Please, Ceena," Andira said. "No one will get in trouble."

"The other students..." she said quietly. "And I heard them saying it before. The instructors. When they thought we were asleep. That I was on thin ice, so — so Master Jin had better figure something out."

Andira's frown went deeper. She would need to have a talk with them. She'd hired them more for their ability than their bedside manner, but that had clearly been a mistake. Scared students didn't learn well. "Thank you, Ceena," she said. "I'll look into that."

Ceena's legs were tucked under her chair, a nervous posture that Andira didn't particularly like. "And you really — you're not going to send me home?" she asked.

"Ceena," Andira said, "students are only dismissed from the learning center when they do not follow its tenets."

"Patience, kindness, duty, and respect," Ceena recited, and Andira raised her eyebrows. That had certainly been drilled into them. Good.

"All of you are very gifted here. That means that all of you will need to be very careful with your abilities once you grow older and have learned to use them. Part of that, though, is learning to ask for help when you need it," Andira said gently. "This could have been far worse than simply flowers."

Ceena nodded slowly. "Yes, Second."

"It also means that you will all need to learn empathy. I don't know what sector you'll decide to go into once you're trained, but I know that state-trained mages are often called on to help others where they are stationed. That will mean kindness and patience, yes, but also acceptance. There are many kinds of people in this country, Ceena, and one day they will all need you. They'll need all of you here."

Andira paused. "Master Jin," she said, "what do the students here learn of Ruling Second Andira?"

Jin's eyebrows went up. "They learn that you were handpicked as Second by the Ruling First herself after a stint in her personal guard. Your intelligence, honesty, and combat ability impressed her. We tell the students that you are measured and strict, but only because you wish to better our nation as best you can."

Andira smiled thinly. All that was likely more than she deserved. "And I will try to live up to that glowing endorsement, Master Jin. Do you tell them of my childhood?" she asked.

He hesitated. "No."

"I see." She let her smile go a little more true. "Please excuse me for my impropriety," she said, and then got to her feet so she could pull her tunic up over her head.

She heard Ceena gasp, and she wondered if it was because the Ruling Second was standing in her training room wearing only a breast band, or if it was because even now, after all these years, the scars were still hard to look at. They were impossible to miss, crisscrossing along her shoulders and chest, ropey and pale against her brown skin.

The scars still pulled a little, as they always did, as she finished removing her tunic and set it to the side. She massaged them every day with salve before bed, sometimes with Rian's help, but the damage had been extensive. She would never be as limber as she had been before the accident.

She looked at Ceena levelly. "The trick is," she said, "every day, I let them believe that I walk slowly because I am purposeful. Then on the days when I walk slowly because I hurt, they are none the wiser." She paused for a moment, letting Ceena take in the scars that traveled from her collar across to the opposite shoulder. And as improper as she was, she wasn't about to let the girl see the ones that stretched even lower. "My house burned down when I was a little younger than you are now."

"...I see," Ceena said, diplomatically, and Andira laughed loud and true to hear her own words repeated back to her.

"There are people like you and there are people like me, Ceena," Andira said, not allowing her smile to falter. "Who are strong and powerful and good, even if we are different. Suns above, there are so many kinds of people in this country. When I accepted my role as Ruling Second, I promised to make their lives better. And when you accepted your place at this training center, you promised to try and do the same. Didn't you?"

Ceena nodded, slowly. It had been part of the compact made when the court agreed to pay for all these students' living expenses for as long as they needed it. Andira had penned the agreement herself.

"Then we will need to change the way you are taught, Ceena," she said. "Just like I needed to change the way I was taught when I was learning to fight." Andira looked over at Jin, who had his eyes respectfully averted. "Master Jin. Please have a list of prospective hires for the magical researcher position in my hands by the end of the week. I trust you'll be able to find experts in this field."

"I already have, Second," he said. "We've been... We've been in communication."

"Good," Andira said. "That will make this process easier. Ceena?"

"Yes, Second?" Ceena asked. She was too young or too direct to look away, and Andira found that oddly refreshing.

"I am committed to protecting and supporting every kind of person in this country, and this learning center is one of my designs to do so. As such, this center will always have a place for all of those kinds of people, so long as they are willing to dedicate their talent to those who need it. Do you understand my meaning?"

Ceena nodded, her eyes going a little glossy. "Yes, Second."

"Good," she said, and reached for her tunic. "Unless you have any objection, I'll be by in a few weeks time to check on your progress."

Jin blinked. "Personally?" he asked.

"Personally," she said, as she pulled her clothing to rights. As Ruling Second, much of her responsibilities involved delegating. But perhaps she'd delegated a bit too much with her learning center. Perhaps she needed to be a little more hands-on with the education of her students. After all, each one of them was one of her hopes and dreams for the future of this country.

She eyed Ceena, who seemed a little poleaxed. "Do you have any more questions, Ceena?" she asked.

"I..." Ceena began, voice gone very small again. "Can I hug you?"

"Ceena—" Jin sputtered. He knew his place in this country's hierarchy. Even if his Second had just bared quite a bit of skin in front of him, he still knew what was proper.

Andira smiled. It was sort of nice to be around someone who hadn't yet learned what was proper. "Of course."

Ceena made a rough sound in the back of her throat and staggered forward out of her seat, wrapping her arms around Andira in a sort of lopsided hug that didn't feel nearly as awkward as it might have. Andira held her, remembering the way she'd felt when she was Ceena's age, not so long ago. After her parents had passed in the fire, there had been absolutely no one to hug her the way she'd desperately needed.

She remembered that gnawing loneliness, the fear that had clutched at her from the inside out, and she held Ceena close, ignoring the way Jin gaped at her from over the child's shoulder.

She wasn't so harsh as they all believed. The Ruling First had seen that in her. And when the two of them were together, late at night as they pored over paperwork in the palace, Daia had confessed that had been the real reason she had chosen Andira as her Second. Her vision, her dedication, and her deep compassion.

Andira tried to live up to that. She tried to live up to a lot of things. And though she'd hesitated to put that kind of responsibility on these students of all ages, she knew they were owed the chance to live up to those expectations as well. She patted Ceena's shoulders even as they shook, and thought to herself that perhaps the smartest thing to do right now was to believe in their infinite potential.

After all, she was the Ruling Second. Her job was their future.

"Andira, watch."

Andira crossed her arms in front of her, ignoring the slight twinge. "I am, child. What am I watching?"

Ceena stood out in the middle of the training field they'd booked for the day, and even Andira could tell that her stance was better. She had never exactly trained in magic, but she knew the way Ceena stood was more relaxed now. She didn't hunch in on herself like she used to. Instead, her hand moved with confidence, and her shorter arm moved in perfect concert. Their new hire had been doing their job.

"Look," Ceena said, and Andira looked.

Slowly, one by one, tiny white flowers poked up out of the soft spring grass, and Andira smiled. She'd always loved snowblooms. "I take it this was what you were trying to do in the first place?" she called.

Ceena nodded. "Aren't they pretty?"

"They're lovely," Andira replied. And powerful. Suns above. A child her age coaxing life. Who would have imagined it?

Ceena hesitated a moment, swaying on her feet. "It's good?" she finally asked.

Andira heard what was really being asked, and she smiled. "You did very well, Ceena," she said.

Ceena beamed, and Andira felt her heart grow warmer in her chest. It had taken Andira a long time before she could beam like that after the accident. It had been a long time before she'd met someone who could look at her and see exactly what she had to offer the world — and longer still before Andira had been able to listen to Daia's words and believe them.

That Ceena was learning so quickly, was developing both her magic and her self-confidence at such a staggering rate, made Andira sure for the first time that this learning center, despite its particular growing pains, was a perfect idea. They'd have so many students like Ceena. Their people would develop their strengths and learn to deal with their weaknesses, and Andira would oversee it all.

Andira grinned, sharklike, as she watched Ceena take a little bow. She loved being right.

[ko-fi]

#fic stuff #origific #this hasn't really been edited but it was also meant to be a ficlet so #cw: #ableism #description of scars and injuries #I was thinking about how magic users use their bodies in so many universes and I wondered how disability might play into that #and this happened so whoops #I realize that this could be interpreted like the government snatchin up kids but it's more like a scholarship program #for folks with potential -- even adults #andira hopes they'll go into community service and leadership positions #I just wanted to be clear lmao #long post

[purplesaline]

@wishmeonmyway tagged me in an ask meme!

I'm supposed to tag people to do it as well, but I have never been comfortable with that, so feel free to tag yourselves and pretend I did it! I probably would have if I didn't have so much social anxiety 😉

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Ask meme

Rules: Tag nine people you want to get to know better.

Relationship status: Single. For 7 years. Single and celibate and oh god it feels like I've been wandering in the desert and I'm dying of thirst. Not to be melodramatic about it or anything 🙃

Favorite color: I don't really have one! Blues, purples, greens. Darker rather than lighter but I do love a room painted in a nice sage green, more grey than yellow.

Lipstick or Chapstick: Neither! Though I did purchase makeup for the second time in my life with the intent on learning to use it. Nearly 40 and I don't know how to apply makeup.

Last Song I listened to: Absolutely no idea. If you count white noise to fall asleep to it was some Solitudes nature stuff. Other than that I was working and not paying attention to it in the background.

Last movie I watched: Damn I haven't watched a movie in months. Moana I think? Oh! Wait! Nope it was The Last Jedi on opening night.

Top 3 TV Shows: oh sure, break my heart meme. Just shatter it. Sigh. Well it used to be Supergirl and then that Comic-Con debacle happened and then the summer rumours and...well I'm sure you all don't need me to get into it.

Honestly I just want some good quality wlw character development, preferably with some characters closer to my own age, but until then:

Wynonna Earp, Madame Secretary is a current fave, and I still watch all of the CW DCverse because I'm a masochist.

Top 3 Characters: Alex Danvers, Alex Danvers, Alex Danvers.

Bet ya didn't see that coming! I've just never felt so connected to a character before, and having watched as much TV as I have and read as many books, that's saying a lot.

Top 3 Bands/Artists: Not really much of a music enthusiast so I don't really have favorites. I tend towards indie and modern rock with some old school techno, dance, and goth thrown in for colour.

Books I’m currently reading: Damn I haven't had time to read in forever. Got one I've cracked a page or two on about adult ADD in women, I've been going through a phase of reading lesbian romance novels (Go read Silver Wings by H.P. Munro and Trigger by Jessica Webb).

That's it! Tag yourself on my behalf if you want to play!

Or send me more questions or asks or memes if you want to know more about me. I'm an open book 😄

#ask meme