#this was a part of a bunch of other portrait doodles but i like it enough to post it by itself here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sadwsocc · 5 years

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Kenma x Reader soulmate au

an au where whatever they wrote/ drew on their skin would show up on their soulmates skin too

word count: 3,473 words

genre: fluff??? idk

a/n: i really liked writing this one because kenma is actually my fav lmao but i think i wrote his name too many times so it might be a tad bit weird

Kenma was partially annoyed by how often his soulmate would doodle on their body, more specifically their left hand and knees, yes, knees. And he would be annoyed by the amount of questions he got from his teammates about the doodles on his body whenever they had practice. there were always a bunch of stars tethered on his knees in colourful ink (mostly green, purple, black and blue) Whoever his soulmate was, he was definitely annoyed yet intrigued by them.

Kenma didn't know why his soulmate would be up at 2 in the morning while he was playing video games but during those times, a bunch of smiley faces and random doodles would appear. yet, Kenma never made an effort to do make it known that he knew those doodles were there as they would rub it off after awhile. Kenma had no intentions of contacting his soulmate anytime soon.

That was until one fateful midnight, he noticed that there wasn't any doodles appearing on his skin, he assumed his soulmate fell asleep, finally. he decided it would be fun if he took initiative and doodles something, pausing his game he went over to his desk and grabbed a pen.

right when the tip of his pen was about to touch on Kenma's skin, it stopped. Kenma thought long and hard about what to draw or write since he didn't think he could be par with his soulmates clean and neat doodles. deciding on writing a small message, he proceeded to write on his forearm "took you long enough to sleep". he hoped that he would get a reply by morning when she awoke but to his surprise, a new message popped up on his right knee, "im not asleep yet".

"oh" he spoke aloud even though there wasn't anyone in his room. grabbing his pen, he wrote again, "oh". 'Very original' he thought to himself. he waited for a few moments and got an answer back on his other knee, "hi" beside it was a smiley face. Kenma was surprised that he would finally get to have a proper chat with his soulmate... at two in the morning— on a school night. Kenma thought about what to reply to her, 'a simple "hello" would be enough' he thought, which was what he wrote below the 'hi' his soulmate wrote.

moments later his soulmate wrote back with three dots, not knowing what else to write to him and continued, "sorry for the constant doodles—i get bored easily". Kenma sighed, at least his soulmate was self aware. he replied with "its fine", to which a smiley face was drawn again by his soulmate as a reply. that was the end of their little rendezvous, life continued onwards. the two of them made no effort to try to find each other, the doodles were still constant, the weird little notes that appeared on Kenmas palm sometimes would still be present, it was as if their short lived chat never occurred.

———

(y/n) liked to draw. a lot.

whenever you saw a piece of paper that was blank, you'd fill it up with doodles and drawings and when there were no paper in sight you would result in drawing on your own skin or your friend's. your friends didn't mind, nor did their soulmates as they all knew the only person who would draw such things was you, if they ever saw stars appear or little cat doodles or just basic characters from shows you had watched, they would know it was you. it was a known fact.

your skin would never be blank, ever. there would always be that one smiley face or that one random quote that would be hidden somewhere that was noticeable. it was fun for you.

you always wondered when you'd meet your soulmate, your friends all met theirs, mainly through telling them their names and what school they went to, it was— as you liked to call it— the easy way out. a good example of that would be your friend, Kaori, she found her soulmate when she wrote her identity and her phone number on her forearm last year, which was also the two of your first year at Nekoma High. Turns out, her soulmate was some kid named Kuroo that was a year older than the two of you. you had met him like once or ten-no-twenty times when he visited you and Kaori's class, his bedhead had never gone unnoticed to you, in fact it left quite an imprint on you, it was just too... unnatural.

from what you heard the way Kaori found Kuroo was when she told you that she once wrote on her hand that she would be going to Nekoma High, which she knew that her soulmate would be there (they keep in touch through writing i guess) and from then on they would write to each other profusely.

the first day of school and you had saw her anxiously walking around trying to find some dude that was drawn on her hand by her soulmate (it didn't look that good and you could hardly tell it was even a person at all until she stated it to you knowingly). you snickered as she tried to tell you how she thinks it's sweet and thought how her soulmate would go as far as to draw a 'self portrait' for her to find him.

you were in awe when a tall dude with hair that kinda fitted the drawing on Kaori's palm showed up and introduced himself to her, they were blushing and all. you remembered seeing a boy with rather long black hair (first year Kenma didn't have pudding hair, author checked) shielding himself behind Kuroo. you paid no mind to him, of course, you weren't really going to school to make friends.

back to present, it was two in the morning and you were up all night reading, what exactly? we don't talk about that. well, you were reading until you felt someone writing something on your hands and saw a few words written on your hand. one led to another but eventually nothing really happened so you never mentioned it to anyone.

———

weeks after that little midnight incident, one day, Kaori dragged you to your school's volleyball gym —you didn't even know your school had volleyball much less a club— to accompany her visiting her boyfriend, Kuroo.

before she started dragging you, you were writing down your day's to-do list intently. Kaori's green pen that you were using to write down on your palm was suddenly dragged out, ruining you beautiful to-do list. you grunted and sighed, clicking the pen to put it in you pockets as she took you hand and hooked it to hers, forcing you to go along with her rendezvous.

Kaori pulled the gym door opened and there stood about a dozen boys in gym clothes staring at the two of you. they all greeted Kaori but not to you as you didn't know any of them, sure you've heard Kaori talk about them here and there, but most conversations about them were about Kuroo.

Kaori promptly introduced you to the volleyball team, "hey guys, this is (y/n), i dragged her along because i wanted you guys to see her drawings that i mentioned before." this earned a stare from you to your cheery friend and you finally spoke, "since when did i agree to this?". Kaori looked at you and simply said, "when i was dragging you here" with a smile.

you sighed and handed her your sketchbook which was inside your school bag. she thanked you and then went over to the crowd of boys who were intrigued by you sketchbook, leaving you on the side.

———

a little before this, while (y/n) was being dragged by Kaori to the gym:

Kenma felt a little tingly feeling from his palm again and assumed that his soulmate started writing something, he looked at his palm and saw a little to do list being written only for it to be ruined by a sudden line being dragged across. confusion arose from the pudding head as his bed headed friend took notice and glanced at his palm.

a little idea popped into Kuroo's mind as he thought about the only person he knew would have that kind of handwriting and would use that type of green pens. he knew for one that his girlfriend always complained about her pens being taken from her by her (h/c) haired friend and knew what (y/n)'s handwriting would be like from the constant borrowing of her notebooks from his girlfriend. Kuroo always has a fleeting suspicion but it never occurred to him that he would notify Kenma.

He also knew that Kenma had a slight interest on the (e/c) eyed girl from the one or two times he saw him glance at her during lunch or walking in the halls, Kuroo also somehow never mentioned that he knew the girl and the thought just kinda slipped through his mind.

"what's with the weird to do list?" Kuroo finally spoke earning a nonchalant glance from Kenma. "i don't know" Kenma said with a slight confused tone. Kuroo thought about how his girlfriend would be dragging her friend here to show off her friends talents to the team and how his girlfriend would drag people by the hand and the dots started connecting.

———

You were left alone while your sketchbook was being the star of the show resulting in you sitting on the sides next to a boy with overgrown blond hair. It was Kenma, the boy you saw on your first day of school and in the halls and everywhere. you constantly thought about him, though you don't know why. Perhaps it was his slightly long hair? Or the way he looked whenever you saw him playing on his handheld gaming console. He always intrigued you and you thought he was quite cute, whenever you walked pass his class or saw him in the halls your heartbeat sped up. Or could it be the soulmate attraction thing you heard rumours about? Part of you hoped he would be your soulmate but the other felt bad if he was due to your constant drawings on your skin.

The two of you were sitting with your legs close to your chests. You felt yourself becoming a bit jittery and anxious from sitting next to the boy you always thought about. Finally, throwing your dignity out of the window you asked, "Why aren't you going over there like the rest of your teammates?". He finally looked at you and said, " I don't like crowds." You gave him a soft smile, nodded and replied, "me neither". you didn't like crowds, you tended to stay away from them, sometimes avoiding them at all costs.

You realised it would be odd if someone you didn't know suddenly came in to the gym, sat down and started talking you so you promptly introduced yourself. "hi... I'm (y/n), (l/n) (y/n)." you paused thinking about what to say next and then continuing, "Kaori's friend" pointing to the energetic and cheerful girl over with the rest of the volleyball team.

Kenma looked at you for a few seconds longer and you started overthinking, 'What if he thinks you're weird?' 'What if he hates you?' 'Why would he hate you?'. You started a debate with yourself as he finally spoke, "Kenma, Kozume Kenma..."

Of course you knew his name already but it would make you sound like a stalker if you said something like, "I'm (y/n)! And you, sir, are Kozume Kenma, Kuroo's friend and a second year setter, whatever a setter is!" you didn't know much about volleyball but your friend told you about the boys volleyball team once and you ought to remember a few roles.

You glanced over to the game he was playing and immediately recognised the art style of the game. Your eyes lit up and blurted out, "hey! isn't that MonHun?" Kenma looked at you with a bewildered expression, "Yes... do you play it too?" he asked in a soft and quiet tone. You grinned and put your left hand on the nape of your neck, awkwardly rubbing it, "ah, umm... no... sorry. I just know a lot about games and I suck at it too to be honest."

Kenma looked at your for a second and went back to his game as you continued to look at his console. Little did you know, the two of your friends were silently gushing about how adorable and shy and awkward you and Kenma were being. One might not know if they weren't close to Kenma but Kuroo knew on an instant that Kenma was actually freaking out on the inside, to an outsider his attitude might not seem to change but to Kuroo, even the slightest difference was noticeable to him. Kenma seemed a bit giddy, his hand movements were quickened, more unstable as if he was panicking —which he was.

With a smirk playing on the bed headed teen's lips, he nudged Kaori with his elbows gently, "how long do you think they'll realise?" Kaori too had a fleeting suspicion about the two of you and now she was almost a hundred percent sure that her suspicions were confirmed. She stared at the two of you and pondered for awhile, with her right hand on her chin she said, "an hour?" Kuroo laughed a bit and ruffled his girlfriends hair, "you're so adorable." This made her blush profusely. Kaori then inquired, "should we tell them?" "Nah"

You realised that the team was taking a bit too long on admiring your sketchbook, you started to wonder if they were still absorbed in your art or they simply acted like they forgot they had practice. Making a small huff, you turned to look at Kenma again, staring intently in his game, he was on level 37. You heard the game was quite hard, you always wanted to play them but due to the fact that you inevitably sucked at it, you never bothered.

Minutes later, boredom got the best of you and you finally decided to ask, "Hey Kenma-san, can I borrow your console?"

"... after this level" he replied. Kuroo stared in awe as he saw you achieve something he was never able to —borrow Kenma's games whilst he was in the middle of a level. The third year captain was so proud of his friend's character development that he nearly teared up, whispering , "he grows up so fast" to Kaori, to which she giggled to.

After Kenma had beaten that level he handed it to you, setting his game level to the very first one. You awkwardly took it and stared fumbling with the controls. "I think I know how to play this" You said, "it's just dodging and attacking, right?" You rhetorically asked.

"Essentially, yeah" Kenma replied. Your heartbeat quickened and you suddenly felt awkward. A few button smashes and frantically waving the console around, you surprisingly passed level 1. You gave Kenma back his gaming console and raised up both your hands to celebrate beating the first level, you weren't expecting to actually win it, you were used to losing and being killed off. Kenma smiled at your cheery sight.

"High five, Kenma-san!" You said enthusiastically. Holding out both your hands towards him and waited for him to return your high five. Pausing his game and looking up from his console, he saw what you had written on your palm. Wide eyed, Kenma raised his hands to high five you, realising that you had the same green ink on your palm. You were too busy celebrating your victory you didn't bother to realise that he too had what you written on you palm. Putting down your hands, you saw that Kenma was still holding his out, you stared at him and then to his palm. It was then realisation hit you.

You lifted up your palm and stared into your hand and then to his, repeating this gesture for a sold three times before one of you spoke out.

"Are you-?" You asked, not bothering to finish your question. You quickly stood up and patted down the invisible dirt and wrinkles on your skirt and ushered him to wait as you ran over to your bag and grabbed out a baby blue pen you 'borrowed' from Kaori and went back over to Kenma. You turned over to show your wrist and started doodling a simple tulip on your wrist, Kenma in turn, turned around his arm and saw that he too had a baby blue inked tulip on his wrist.

Dropping the pen, you both stared at each other intently. "You're my soulmate" you both said quietly in unison. You let out a sigh of relief and immediately thought about the amount of times you've drawn on yourself.

"I'm- uh, sorry for the constant doodles, I get bored easily" you said meekly, covering your mouth with the collar of your shirt to hide the blush that was starting to appear on your cheeks. You smiled at you and told you that he rather enjoyed them and wouldn't mind if you continued to do so.

Kuroo and Kaori high fives each other as the other teammates were finally done looking at your sketchbook. They were now all looking at the two of you quietly sitting next to each other, cheeks tainted pink.

"What's up with Kenma-san?" Lev asked Kuroo. Kuroo smiled and told him, "he found his soulmate." Lev perked up and went over to where Kenma was and shook his hands to congratulate his senpai. "Kenma-san, congratulations! Today must be your lucky day! Your soulmate is very pretty and so are her drawings! You should look at them too!" As he said the last few parts, Lev looked at you. You gave him a shy smile with a faint blush and looked away, over to your short friend, you knew she was the one who had set this up indirectly.

After the whole ordeal, the two of you exchanged emails and talked about little things that had no meaning to it. You felt butterflies in your stomach the whole chat. He decided he would walk you back home along with Kuroo and Kaori, you assured him you would be fine but he insisted that his house was not far from yours so it was nothing.

"You know, Kenma-san, I kind of always liked you, even if you might've not been my soulmate," you said quietly while the four of you were walking back. You and Kenma walked as a pair while your friends walked behind the two of you at an excruciatingly slow pace which made the two of you decide to walk ahead of them.

Part of you hoped that he didn't listen as it would be rather embarrassing by the other half wanted him to know how much you love him as cheesy as it sounds. He heard it and stared down on the pavement you were walking on as did you. The two of you were so awkward together it was just too sweet. "Me too" he returned you a tone as soft and as quiet as yours.

"Do you think I can go over to your house someday, I kinda wanna play those games of yours" you voiced our in a shy tone. Kenma's eyes widen as he stared at you, thinking.

"Yeah".

The doodles never stopped from then on, maybe it even multiplied but Kenma didn't mind. He would sometimes show it to Kuroo and tell him thing like "Look what (y/n) drew," with hints of interest in his voice. It was absolutely adorable every time the two of you walked back home talking about your day. Somedays you would even stay over at his home and play his games, yet you still inevitably sucked.

#hq kenma #kenma x reader #best boy #haikyuu!!#haikyū #kenma #kozume kenma #nekoma #kuroo tetsurou #hq kuroo

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feuilleszuyu · 5 years

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Be my world | Son Chaeyoung

a/n: this took wayyy too long to finish because I’m lazy and don’t know how human relationships work lol AND YEAH, THE ART TEACHER’S DESCRIPTION IS JUST ME EXPOSING MY OWN TEACHER AND I HAVE A TOTAL OF 0 SHAME ON THAT

you loved arts class

just like everyone else who took that class

AND THERE WAS A REASON FOR THAT

your teacher was simply nuts

T H A T M A N

that man was amazing

you had warnings about him being weird but you thought it wouldn’t be a problem because ????? aren’t all artists weird????

but then you step in class just to listen to some weird ass dutch music

AND THE MAN HAD THE AUDACITY TO SAY IT WAS A PART OF THE SUBJECT SJDJDJ

also he had a chicken

not a real one ofc

but a chicken that makes all decisions for him

if you can convince him that the chicken liked your work

then you were the most powerful person in the room

ONCE A GUY CONVINCED HIM THE CHICKEN WANTED Y’ALL TO GET SOME REST SO THE TEACHER LET Y’ALL GET OUT OF CLASS EARLIER—

“ok, we get it, the man ain’t normal but that’s what makes the class cool, right? so.... what’s the deal with arts class???”

WELL I’M GLAD YOU ASKED

son chaeyoung was the deal with arts class

the girl wasn’t mean or anything don’t get me wrong

she was just.......... as weird as the teacher

ok maybe not so much BUT YOU GET THE IDEA

you haven’t talked much with her cuz she doesn’t talk much in general

BUT THEN MR I-LET-THE-CHICKEN-MAKE-MY-LIFE-DECISIONS PARTNERED Y’ALL TOGETHER

and tbh it wouldn’t be that bad because yk

she’s a cute gal

and she has some good work

and even if it was...... original...... her fashion sense was still fucking bomb

BUT THE GIRL DOESN’T SAY SHIT TO YOU

LIKE ???????? BITCH WE HAVE WORK TO DO EVEN IF YOU HATE ME WE GOTTA HAVE DIALOGUE

but she just...... stays there....... doodling

and it feels so awkward for you like HHHHHHH JUST SAY SOMETHING

sometimes you try to ask questions but her replies are always short like :(((( you’re rlly trying why can’t she help you

so you decided you have to do something and try to talk to her more directly

“chaeyoung look,,, I know you’re shy and I understand you don’t particularly like me...... but we have work to do and we can’t stay like this :((“

she looks up from her doodles sorta shocked which makes you confused???

was it that bad that you wanted to work with her????

“What do you mean I don’t particularly like you?”

“I mean you don’t,,, why else would you not say a word to me at all???”

“Oh, I’m so sorry it came off that way.... I didn’t want to bother you since you didn’t say much to me either :(”

•0•

she,,,,

her,,,,,,,,,,

that cute little sad face,,,,,

she,,,,,

you,,,,,,,

“Omgdon’tbesorrypleaseomgIdidn’tmeantomakeyoufeelbadomgpleaseIjustwantedtotalktoyoubecauseworkbutyouneversaidanythingandomgpleasedon’tfeelbad :((“

ALRIGHT EMINEM THAT WAS TOO MUCH

YOU WERE TALKING SO FAST AND STUMBLING IN ALL YOUR WORDS SJDJDJ

“I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me and I’m bad at starting conversations”

“I’m so sorry :((( but ig we can start our work now right??”

“Right!” she gave you a small smile before continuing “what is our work about again?”

“Hmm something about drawing our partner but without it being a portrait??? the way we view them without it being their human form or sumn”

“oh!!! I get it!!! like the teacher and his chicken fursona!!!”

“WAIT THE TEACHER AND WHAT?”

“his,,,,, chicken fursona?? I mean that man rlly loves some chicken and the amount of times he draws chickens,,,, followed by this project,,,,, he’s a furry confirmed”

“BUT CHICKENS DON’T EVEN HAVE FUR HOW IS IT A FURSONA”

“WHO ARE YOU TO DOUBT THE CHICKEN’S VALIDITY AS A FURSONA?”

“I MEAN—“

“ENOUGH OF THIS, THE TEACHER IS A CHICKEN FURRY AND YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND SO LET’S CONTINUE,,,,,,”

“alright how do we do it?? do we found our own fursonas or sumn??”

“I mean we can try to go on a quest to find out our identity as furries or,,,,, we could just get to know each other better and see what we associate to each other?? ofc you don’t have to do that like I totally understand if you—“

“no!! it’s alright I’ve wanted to get to know you better for some time because you’re so cute!!”

“omg really? I never thought anyone would want to talk to me because everyone just seems to run away from me???”

“no!!!!!! it’s just,, you’re intimidating”

“wdym intimidating I’m so small people don’t ask how tall I am, they ask how short I am”

“ok touché,, but are you going to give me your number or??”

“oh sure, just give me your phone”

and that’s how you got a cute gal’s number

and since then you and chaeyoung have been texting but for some reason you didn’t talk at school and you only had arts class with her

but oNe dAy ThAt cHanGed

so,,, wednesday you didn’t have afternoon classes

and neither did any of your friends

but you needed to study and you were broke so you decide to get lunch in the school canteen

but you were living the high-school loser reality where you have no one to sit with at lunch

uNTIL

“Y/N!!!”

you turn around to see chaeyoung all smiley and giggling with her food

“omg Chae!!!!!!”

“where are your friends?? you’re so popular I only ever find you surrounded by others”

“oh,,, they don’t eat here today”

“I see..... do you want to sit with me? :D you can meet my friends!!!”

“seriously??”

“yes!!!! seriously!!!! just come with me!!!”

you followed chae to her table where a bunch of people were already sited

she slammed her tray on the table before saying

“EVERYONE!!! be quiet I have someone to introduce to y’all >:C this is y/n, she’s the girl from my arts class, be nice to her or fight me >:(“

“oh so this is the girl you’ve been texting?? I imagined her with cat ears tbh,,, anyways I’m nayeon!! chae’s best looking friend”

“nice to meet you but,,, what do you mean cat ears??”

“aren’t you a furry??”

“wha— SON CHAEYOUNG WHAT HAVE YOU TOLD YOUR FRIENDS”

“nothing!!!!! it’s just,,,”

“IT’S JUST???”

“your contact name, it’s saved on her phone as “fursona to be found” so we thought you’d be a furry” another one of her friends says “Jisung btw, nice to meet you”

“MY CONTACT IS WHAT—“

“I thought it’d be funny— what is my contact name in your phone?”

“CHAE FROM ARTS CLASS?????”

“AND YOU THINK YOU’RE ABLE TO JUDGE ME??? MY CONTACT NAME IS LITERALLY THE MOST BORING EVER—“

“I THOUGHT IT’D BE APPROPRIATE???”

“hey old couple, can y’all stop arguing?? I’m trying to eat my fucking fries”

“YUNA ISN’T IT PAST YOUR BEDTIME??”

“bitch it’s 1pm”

besides a whole lot of screaming,,,

you had a great time with chae’s friends

they were whole crackheads but very nice and welcoming

as it seems they all have a passion for art, specially music and dance

three of them were even a soundcloud rap trio JSJDJ

it was amazing how besides being over 20 people they all were so close,,,

and you felt like two worlds had just collapsed yk??

you were very close with chae but she never met any of your friends, it felt like you only knew each other by text and in arts class and whatever life you had outside it was a completely different world

and seeing her surrounded by her friends was a completely different thing

and you liked seeing that side of her tbh

so you started having lunch with her more often

and you really liked it

you were getting closer with her and her friends who were amazing people

and you also grew used to the burn that would burst into your chest every now and then when you hang out with them

even though sometimes it was too strong

when chaeyoung smiled it was too strong

when she’d hug you or hold your hand it was too strong

it made you feel like you going in a strawberry field with her and just shower her face with kisses

but then she’d get close to another friend of yours and you’d feel,,, empty

like you weren’t enough

literally wtf did this girl do to you—

time went by and it was time to present your projects in art class

you drew two planets smiling to each other to represent your friendship with chae and were very curious to know what she had drawn

“Alright class, it’s time to let your partner know what you’ve drawn, I’ll give you sometime to talk to each other before giving me the drawings”

you turned to chae and you could feel your whole body shaking

“I’ll go first!” she says excitedly, calming you down

she shows you her drawing of an angel with a dress covered in painting

“I drew you as an angel because you’re always so nice and never judge anyone and always try to do good, the painting on the dress symbolizes how you are different from others and how you are creative and out of the box in contradiction to the image of the angel all perfect and dressed in white! I thought it’d be a good way to represent you since you came into my life sorta like a blessing or an angel and we got together through art...”

you were blushing at this point

did she just—

she just??

yes she just!!!!

“that’s so sweet of you omg thank you!”

you smiled whole heartedly

this made a blush make its way into her face too

“o-ok, your turn!!!”

“oh yes!!! uhm,, I drew two planets to represent our friendship since we seem to be so different and be from completely different worlds, but they are smiling at each to show how we got together and love each other besides the distance”

“that’s so sweet omg” she gave you a small smile “b-but, do you actually think we’re that different and distant?”

“what do you mean?”

“ the planets, you said they represent us because we’re from completely different worlds but... I never found us that different you know? and the planets.... they’re smiling at each other but still have so much space separating them, do you think we’re that far from each other...?”

“I... never thought of it that way..... I 100% didn’t mean it that way... I don’t think we’re distant, I actually feel like you’ve got to a place in me that no one else ever did.... but I always saw your reality as something so different from my own and meeting your friends, for example, made me realize it you know??”

“you... you d-don’t like them?”

she looked so sad as she said it, her eyes on the table and not on you and her stutter just made it all more obvious

“of course I do! but I’ve never been with someone like you and them, you are so unique and different from anything I’ve seen before... and I’m glad I got the chance to meet you and see your way of viewing things, but I still somehow feel like I don’t belong with you and them you know?”

“I see......”

she was still looking down, and she kept herself that way until the bell rung

when you were already heading to the exit of the class you hear her

“Y/n!!”

you turn around to see chaeyoung, this time facing you

“you said you felt like you didn’t belong with us, but.... I want to show you you do!”

“what do you mean?”

“would you mind coming with me after lunch tomorrow?”

“sure, but where?”

“you’ll understand better later! I promise!”

so the next day you couldn’t stop thinking about what was going to happen

you were nervous alright! you didn’t even know if anyone else was coming or if it was going to be just the two of you

you didn’t even know where you were going

so when chaeyoung meets you at the door of the canteen aLONE and takes your hand you’re just—

shaking

you’re shaking a lot

and she noticed it, but didn’t say anything to not make you uncomfortable

instead she just smiled your way and kept walking somewhere

you crossed streets and walked a lot to the point when your legs even hurt

and then she stops on start of a random narrow street

“we’re here!!” she says proudly

“where are we exactly?”

“well,,, I don’t know exactly but I usually come here with the dudes”

she starts walking through the street

“and as you can see, we like to leave marks of our presence”

you start following her and looking at the walls

you were shocked

they were covered in some random phrases (inside jokes within the group you suppose) and paintings

and when you start getting to the end of the street you see it

it’s a big drawing of you, with cat ears

damn they really couldn’t let the furry thing go away could they?

chaeyoung caught you staring at it and stands next to you

“that one... is my painting, I did it and if I’m being honest I never even thought you’d see it”

“it’s amazing! you’re so talented chae!!!”

she looked down and smiled to herself

“it’s easy to do a beautiful piece when the model is as beautiful as one can be”

you blush, it was already something usual when you were around her

chaeyoung was amazing in so many ways, she was talented and nice and pretty and funny and oh god

“Y/N”

you turn to her to face a more serious chae

“be a part of my world, please”

“w-what do you mean with that?”

“whatever it may mean, just be a part of me, see every side of my life you could see, let our planets collide and become one, let me hold you into my harms and never let go, let me give you my heart and give me yours”

you’re unsure of what to say

you knew damn well how you felt about chaeyoung, but having her stare so directly into your eyes and saying those words

“I’d love to be a part of your world chaeyoung”

with those words chaeyoung’s seriousness breaks into a warm smile before taking you in a tight hug

she looks you in the face for one second, admiring every detail of you, before getting closer and leaning for a kiss

you wanted to kiss her for so long, and so did her

you waited so long for your lips to finally meet and now? now you’re sure she’s a part of your world

in fact, you’d say she is your world

and you couldn’t be happier with that

#son chaeyoung #twice chaeyoung #chaeyoung #twice #twice imagine #chaeyoung imagine #twice scenario #chaeyoung scenario #twice au #chaeyoung au #twice reaction #kpop #ggs #girlgroups

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elven-ariaera · 4 years

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Welcome all!

If you’re reading this, I’m assuming you’re familiar with my work as either an artist, cosplayer, writer or any of the other creative things I do. Recently, I had been asked about some of the work that I do, and I thought a fun way to just that was to fill out a few questionnaires. Here I talk about some of the high and low points of doing what I do, what inspires me, and my process of creativity.

For those who are only interested in certain segments, I’ve broken the article into the following sections for you to easily maneuver your way throughout the piece: Art, cosplay, writing, and questions asked by you.

I know I’m no professional and compared to a lot of others I don’t have as outstanding an amount of followers, but if this article can help inspire at least one artist to try something new or learn something they didn’t know, well, that’s good enough for me! I hope you enjoy!

Art

When did you get into art?

I’ve been drawing as long as I can remember, but I do recall middle school in particular being the time that I really started pursuing art. I had to choose between volleyball and art club after school, and guess which one I picked. It wasn’t just academics either. My notebooks were full of fan art of mostly Link and Zelda, but you could find some Kirby, Pokémon, and Naruto scattered in there as well.

Show us your oldest piece of art you have on hand.

Yeah. It’s… Something.

What defines your artistic style?

I think the faces of the characters I draw distinguish my art. I always have a certain way of drawing the eyes, ears, and other features. I always give my females more prominent eyelashes than males as well. Certain clothing as well — The way I draw capes and hoods are distinct. Not to mention when designing my own clothes, I tend to use similar patterns.

Do you practice other styles/have you tried other styles in the past?

I occasionally dabble outside my comfort zone. I’m not necessarily a huge fan of the “Cal-Arts” style, but I’ve tried it every now and then, especially when creating fan art for shows like Steven Universe, The Amazing World of Gumball, and Amphibia. I don’t really do it too often, but I’ve made a piece for my portfolio mimicking several art styles from a variety of different shows just to demonstrate that I can do it if I’d like to.

What levels of artistic education have you had?

Honestly, just high school. I thought I was going to college for digital illustrations but it turned out communication/graphic design was totally different. I actually got into that because I could draw when not many other people in that field could. Of course, I’m always interested in learning outside of school. I learn through watching other artists on social media, seeing how they create their work. Just watching a speed draw can help so much! The way I learn the most, however, is just by doing. Practice, practice, practice!

Show us at least one picture you drew or sketched recently that you did not put on a public site.

I’ve been doing a lot of Fire Emblem doodles for my new sticker line, so here’s Setsuna. Honestly, I just like drawing bust portraits like this.

What is your favorite piece that you have done?

I can’t just pick one! I’ve drawn over 900 things since I first joined DeviantArt (and I’ve been drawing even before then), you want me to pick just one? Haha, I’ll narrow it down to three of my favorites (in no particular order):

I love this one because it was like the first cute drawing of Ivysaur I’ve ever done. Ivysaur was always a tricky pokémon for me to draw, but this was the first time I feel like I nailed it. Ivysaur also happens to be one of my absolute favorites, so that’s a plus.

This is Minerva, a Guardian from my fantasy stories. Every time I drew her prior, I could never quite get the look I wanted. This was the one that I really liked and so I colored it and am very happy with how it turned out.

I don’t know why I just love this drawing I did of Dimitri from Three Houses. I think its the eyes and hair. And the color contrast — especially in the original ink sketch (that I hung up over my craft table.) I just love it.

What is your least favorite piece that you have done?

Again, you want just one? Haha, too many failures. I’ll be fair, though, and post three of those as well.

Here’s one from my early days. I was trying so hard to get the hair all detailed like and instead it came out looking like gross looking veins. Not to mention how atrocious the proportions were. Oh man, I’m sorry past me, I know you tried.

Here’s one I was so proud of: I copied the official art for Twilight Princess and thought it came out amazing. So amazing I titled the piece “Awesomeful Link.” Yeah. Um. Nope.

Here’s a more recent one that I’m not too pleased with. I was so excited about the latest batch of Steven Universe episodes (which I would later learn were a big bunch of filler episodes and that didn’t make anything better) I drew Pearl reciting her ‘big line’ of the trailer. I tried to mix styles and I tried something different with the eyes and all in all it just came out… Meh.

What do you like most about your art?

I like the faces that I draw. They’re always the most fun and I think they come out the best. I especially love the eyes, I go into so much detail on them (even though they’re usually so small when I print them.) I’ve had issues in the past where I made all of my characters look like they had the same face, but I feel I’ve been doing a lot better at individualizing the face of each character and that makes it all the more fun as well.

What do you like least about your art?

The hands. Sometimes I draw them well, but I still struggle hard and sometimes it really shows. For chibi drawings, I don’t really care as much, but on my more “serious” art, I get a little bummed when I’ve got a wonky hand hanging off their wrists. Feet also sometimes give me a bit of trouble, but usually only when I do poses that involve more movement, which is why I sometimes make my art stiffer and I don’t like doing that either.

Have you ever considered taking commissions?

I do take commissions. In fact, I’d love to take more if it were possible.

Are you looking to pursue a career in art?

I do it part-time right now. I’m satisfied doing commissions and artist tables at local conventions. I think I’d like to pursue writing more than art, but I do love art just as well, so part-time is perfect for me.

What do you like drawing the most?

As I mentioned before, faces. I love drawing facial expressions, I feel like it’s the very core of a character. It’s the first thing I notice when I look at anyone’s art, so I always go all out on my own. I also like drawing hair and wrinkles in clothing. I used to be really obsessed with wrinkles and it would always look like my characters didn’t iron their laundry, but I’ve definitely toned it down since then, haha.

All in all, I like drawing human characters the best — or humanoid. Elves, fairies, merfolk; I love them the most. I like drawing animals too, but not as much as people.

What do you like drawing the least?

Once again my answer is hands. They are still as difficult to draw as the day I started.

Backgrounds are also not enjoyable for me to draw. It’s an important part of a piece, but I get so bored drawing anything that’s not a character — which is why you’ll probably notice in a lot of my art that I do a lot of very minimal backgrounds. I’ve been trying very hard not to just take stock photos anymore (with the exception of my Mythical Month art as they’re meant to be stickers,) and I’ve been using games like Skyrim and Breath of the Wild as inspiration with their gorgeous scenery.

Do you draw more fanart or original art? If fanart, what fandom do you draw the most of?

I post a lot more fan art than original — at least I used to, but I also think I have expanded in sharing my original art more and more with my Mythical Months/Mondays. I guess maybe I’d say about half and half.

What medium/program do you use the most in your art?

Digitally I always use Photoshop. Always. As for traditional art, I’ve been using Copic knock-offs (I’m still learning, so I’d rather not waste the money) and the Sakura Micron pens for my ink sketches. I’ve really been enjoying them, actually, it’s very therapeutic. However, no matter digitally or traditionally, I always, ALWAYS start with a pencil. I like mechanical pencils, I don’t like traditional #2 pencils anymore. The thin lead helps me keep control better.

How would you rank your art? (poor, mediocre, good, etc.)

I always say I think my art is “above average.” I know it’s not bad, but I think it could always use improvement. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to a place where I think my art is phenomenal, but I’m content with it, it makes me happy, and that’s all that matters.

List at least one of your “artspirations.”

My art style was greatly inspired by Naruto, Fire Emblem, and Zelda. I always liked more proper body proportions with that hint of anime inspiration. I like bigger eyes on my characters because they help convey emotion so much better, but I also don’t like the oversized baby eyes outside of the occasional chibi style. Avatar: The Last Airbender was also a great influence since the creators did exactly what I like to do and execute it wonderfully.

What do you think you could stand to improve on?

I feel like I can always improve on everything that I do in my art. There are things I’m good at, but I don’t feel like I’ve mastered anything in particular. Then there’s hands and feet again which I definitely need to work on. Lastly, motion. I want to be able to draw more fluid character motions. I’ve been working on it with my original art that I don’t post online, but hopefully I’ll start incorporating it into all my work.

Do you have a shameful art past? (recolor sprite comics, tracing art, etc.?)

Ugh, yes, YES! I admit I was so bad at first, but I also think that’s just how we learn. I used to do a lot of tracing. I started first just full-on tracing images off my computer — That’s right, I’d put the paper up to the computer and trace it like that. Then I started using bases, which was better because at least I had to draw all the details like hair and clothing by myself. Then I finally worked up the courage to stop using them completely. I’d use references, but I would force myself to figure it out by eye rather than copy it straight from the source. I’m happy to say I haven’t been tracing since my late middle school- early high school years.

Cosplay

How many years have you cosplayed?

My first cosplay was when I was fourteen, and I’m twenty-five at the time of writing this article, so eleven years now. Wow.

How did you get into cosplaying?

I honestly don’t know. I was invited to a convention where I heard people dressed up and was like “hey, I want to try that!” I guess it was because I didn’t really do Halloween as a kid and I was so deathly terrified of costumed characters as a toddler that I never took an interest until high school.

How many cosplays have you done?

That’s funny, you want me to remember how many cosplays I’ve ever done. A lot. According to my photo collection, I’ve done about 60 different cosplays (59 exactly if I’m counting correctly.)

What was your first cosplay and why did you choose it?

My first cosplay was Osaka from Azumanga Daioh in her blue summer uniform. Azumanga Daioh was my second ever manga series and my cousin and I were so obsessed with it. She even went as Yukari with me to the convention (though only, like, two people knew who we were.) Tomo is probably my favorite character, but I related personally more to Osaka, being the air-head that I am. I also didn’t have to really style my hair (because that was an era before I used wigs.)

What is your favorite cosplay you’ve done so far?

It’s a tie between my Trainee Link (Hyrule Warriors) costume and my Royal Guard Link (Zelda: Breath of the Wild) costume. Both are alternative costumes for one of my all-time favorite characters that I hand made all the really detailed pieces all from scratch. Link has always been a special character for me to cosplay, but these two are my favorites.

What is your least favorite you’ve cosplayed?

Rapunzel (Tangled). I was obsessed with her at the time which is why I wanted to cosplay her originally, but my dress was not the best and I didn’t look good as her. At least I think so. It was the only costume that made me feel insecure.

What cosplay is the most uncomfortable or troublesome?

Okay, I love this costume and character to pieces, but my gosh the struggles I go through for Pearl (Steven Universe). Blue Diamond (Steven Universe) is the worst in terms of how long it takes me to put my makeup on, but Pearl is right behind her at about 2 hours being my best time. However, the thing that makes Pearl more troublesome to wear is one thing and one thing alone: armsocks.

They look great and prevent you from having to dab makeup all over your body, but I literally couldn’t even hit the home button on my cellphone and it’s not like I could just take them off like gloves. They’re attached at your middle and putting them on is a hassle on its own. Getting your fingers into each tiny socket is so time-consuming. Now imagine this while also being coated in body paint. Plus, having white be the color of the stockings, you have to be conscious of everything you touch because it will stain and show. Because of all this, I refuse to use the restroom dressed as Pearl, and while that is “in character,” it is not healthy and totally NOT recommended you do that.

What is your most comfortable cosplay?

During the winter, Ravio (Zelda: A Link Between Worlds) for sure. It’s like wearing a giant snuggie. However, in summer, it does get hot very quickly (which is why I literally only wear biker shorts and a tank underneath if I ever do take it out on a hot day), so I only wear it in summer if I know there will be AC. Heatstroke is a real thing. Miss Frizzle (Magic School Bus) is probably the best all-year cosplay in terms of comfort. It’s just a dress, stockings, and a wig really.

But in all honesty, most of my cosplays are relatively comfortable. There’s really nothing that I’ve been so uncomfortable that it’s made my physically ill or scarred me physically. My health is important to me, and should safety should always come first.

How do you research the cosplay before you make it?

I look up lots of reference images. I need an image of the front and back, though if it’s not available, I just improvise based on the images I do have on hand. After that, I kind of just wing it.

Do you sew your cosplays yourself?

A good majority of them, yes. There are a few exceptions to this, though: My Disney princesses are all bought since I use them in performances and want them to be durable if children come and tug on the outfit. Pearl, also being a performance cosplay, I did buy as well. For her second reformation outfit (the sleeveless with the ribbon) I got specially commissioned to look and fit me just right whereas her movie/future appearance (jacket and mom-jeans) I literally found at a thrift store. I also love to find costume pieces at thrift stores. Whether I use them as is or make alterations, they make life so much easier when you make a good find for a cheap price. Leni Loud (Loud House) is probably my favorite thrift/sew hybrid. I found a base dress, altered the top and added strap sleeves, put lace around the edges, found a blingy pair of sunglasses, bought earrings and painted them, and made bows for sandals I already had. The most expensive part of that cosplay was the wig I bought from Arda (and it’s always worth it to buy from them in my opinion.)

When I make a costume completely from scratch (like Ravio, Thranduil, any of my Link cosplays) are when I really love the costume and character and want to take on a challenge and bring it to life myself. They also tend to have pieces that can’t be altered from your everyday clothing, but that just makes me work harder and learn more!

How did you learn to sew?

My grandmother taught me how. Osaka was my first cosplay, but my mom altered it from a tee shirt we found at a thrift store and a lucky skirt find. Kabuto Yakushi (Naruto) was the first cosplay I made from scratch (and I won best novice at the convention I wore it to — even with my terrible wig, haha.) She showed me how to use patterns when we made that and my Ayame Sohma cosplay, but after that, I scrapped using patterns and I basically just eyeball everything now. It’s totally not recommended, but I’m a little weirdo and just prefer to do things the way I do. Still, I wouldn’t be able to use a sewing machine if it weren’t for her. Thanks, Nanny!

Do you make your own props?

Most of them. I don’t really use props too often as I find them cumbersome to lug around a convention (which is how I thought of the Fire Emblem, Gravity Falls, and Skyrim book boxes to store your stuff and add some extra flair to a costume.) The few props I have made include Link’s sword, his trainee shield, his original shield from Zelda 1, and Soren’s Wind Tome (which I used for Laurent (Fire Emblem: Awakening) because I didn’t finish Soren (Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance) yet…) Then there’s my prized cosplay prop; Victreebel for James (Pokémon). That was all thanks to my fleece hat business in high school that taught me the skills to build that thing.

I actually think the only prop I store-bought was my Hylian Shield because it was so lightweight and easy to carry, plus I was dreading doing all those details at the time. Maybe one day I’ll make it from scratch, but for now, I’m content with my store-bought.

Do you style your own wigs?

Yes. I have been improving my styling skills a lot more since I first started. It was always a more difficult task for me, but I’ve been practicing more and more. The first one that I attempted on my own was my short-haired Rapunzel. That was basically just giving it a haircut, though. My first real styling challenge was Breath of the Wild Link. It took a long time, but I actually had fun figuring out his hair.

For most of my costumes, it’s really just the bangs that need that extra pop, to which I use Got2B gel and spray. Does the trick every time and keeps everything in place. For those who are wondering, though: No, I did not style Pearl’s wig. I am not ready for that kind of gravity-defying styling. That was all E-Bay.

What skill has been most useful for making your cosplay?

Well, sewing mostly, but other skills that have come in handy for me personally have been painting, crafting, makeup, styling, and overall decorating. Probably other stuff too, just nothing more I can think of off the top of my head.

What is the hardest thing when making a cosplay?

Probably figuring out how things connect. This is the main reason I’m timid when it comes to armor. I’ve been getting better, but I’m still having trouble figuring out how everything attaches and how to put on these kinds of costumes, which is why my Skyrim Elven Armor has been put on hold.

What was the biggest screw up you’ve had making a cosplay?

I’m not sure if I had any major crisis’ when it comes to making cosplays, but I’ve certainly had my fair share of irritating mishaps and mistakes. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve accidentally sewn the sleeves on a costume inside out about 4 times before I finally got it right.

I’ve cut holes in my clothing, I’ve sewn sleeves on too tight, and I’ve even completed a hat that took hours just for it to wind up being too small when I put a wig on. I guess most of the major issues I’ve had with sewing are measurement issues, so my advice to you is to always measure and try on your costume as you go. Don’t wait until the day of the con to try out your new cosplay.

How often do you injure yourself while making a cosplay?

Not too often, I occasionally prick my finger with my sewing needles, but I haven’t had too many serious injuries. I think the worst was when I slashed my thumb with the exacto-knife when making my first shield for Link. Needless to say, there was a lot of blood.

Do you try to stay cheap or do you splurge on materials?

I am a frugal soul; if I can save, I will. That’s why I thrift so much. However, on a costume I’m really passionate about, I will spend more to ensure the quality. For example, I spent a little more going to a more shimmery material for Royal Guard Link. It cost about $50 for the blue and red material, which to me, is a lot (and that was with coupons). However, the results were 100% worth it. PS, Michaels and Joann’s ALWAYS have coupons. I totally recommend downloading both apps.

I also stand by that with wigs and contacts. I love Arda, their quality is great, but they are more expensive than Amazon. Contacts I don’t mind spending more for as well since the quality is VERY important in this case; they are going on your eyes, after all.

However, as I said, I am absolutely not opposed to going cheap. If you can make it work, make it work. My Nyo!Austria (Hetalia) cosplay came out very cute and it was literally made from bedsheets. From using mostly thrifted and recycled materials, a lot of my cosplays came to around an overall price of around $30. Some of these costumes include Mega Gardevoir (Pokemon), Tomoyo Sakagami (Clannad), Spyro (Spyro the Dragon), and Luan Loud (Loud House.)

Cosplay can be totally affordable, you just have to be creative and think a little outside the box sometimes to make it work.

Have you ever cosplayed with a partner or group?

Yes, a few times. I’d love to do more group cosplays, but we all have to think of something we all like. Luckily, two of my very good friends decided they would dress up as Steven Universe and Amethyst to go with my Pearl this year for Comic-Con and it was such a great experience! I’m trying to convince them to do others as well, such as The Loud House and The Magic School Bus with me as well, haha.

Do you try to act in character?

Always: but I don’t always succeed. It really depends on the character. Pearl I could roleplay for days. It’s probably because I connect so much with her and performing as her doesn’t hurt either. Dee Dee Magno Hall says her favorite lines to say are peoples names, and after giving it a shot myself, I totally see why. I even practiced Garnets “Stronger than you” monologue in Pearl’s voice and tone (in case no one volunteered to sing during our karaoke event) and it always makes my friends laugh.

The characters that stump me a little more are the more serious characters I choose to portray; Link, Laurent, Thranduil (the Hobbit), Belle (Beauty and the Beast), just to name a few. I’m kind of a goofball/airhead so those characters clash with my personality a little bit, but I am getting better. Blue Diamond is surprisingly the easiest of these types to stay in character for.

That being said, I love being the outgoing, oddball characters. Like I said, Pearl is second nature to me, as well as Anna from Frozen. Back in my Hetalia days, Austria and America were my go-to guys. I could act as them forever, and my friends and I literally lived as them for a while with how much we role-played. Most of the Disney Princesses it’s pretty easy for me to stay in character, especially (like I said before) Anna, Sofia the First, and Merida.

How do you react to cosplayers dressed as a character from the same anime/game/etc?

If there are some good character opportunities, I will role-play on the spot, but more often than not I will ask if we could all get a picture together. There were so many fun interactions with other Steven Universe cosplayers when my friends and I did our little group, but one of my favorite interactions was probably when I was dressed as Laurent and I stumbled across a Miriel cosplayer and I just shouted out “MOM! I FINALLY FOUND YOU!”

Do you try to duplicate your character’s expressions, walk, movements, etc?

I can talk the talk (mostly), but I have more trouble walking the walk. I’ve been trying to replicate movements better, but facial expressions I have trouble with (ironic as it’s my favorite part of drawing.) I’m not as photogenic as I’d like to be, as you could probably tell by most of my pictures being the same face, but I definitely am striving to improve on that.

What was your funniest experience of acting in character?

Okay, there’s a lot that I could share, and eventually, I want to do an article solely on cosplay “in-character” experiences, but the one I HAVE to share right now is a recent experience when I was dressed as Ariel from The Little Mermaid.

I was performing at the family day event my church helps out at my pastor’s air force base as Ariel, and after my sing-a-long, my makeup was a little smudged. I asked a volunteer where the restroom was so I could touch up before I headed back out to the crowds. I thought he’d take me to a private restroom, but he brought me to the public one where there were families waiting outside. They noticed and the dad joked “See? Even princesses have to go.” to which I laughed and gave my best Ariel shrug to play along. I went inside, fixed my makeup, and went back outside.

It wasn’t long, so the family was still outside the men’s room. As I walked by, the man’s son shouted out “Ariel, congratulations on going pee-pee!” to which I bursted out laughing. Everyone was. I mean, if you gotta congratulate a princess on using the bathroom, you picked the right one! After that, I did explain that I was just putting on makeup but I appreciated his enthusiasm and thanked him for it.

Do you compete in cosplay contests?

All the time. I love them. Whether I win or lose, I always get something out of it. I learn tips from other cosplayers, get to meet so many interesting people, and those times I do win I get prizes which is always nice as well. Most importantly, though, the memories that are made there are the very best part.

Have you won anything?

I have won quite a few. I have three trophies, a medal, a few certificates, and have won a cash prize as well. My first win was my second convention as Kabuto where I won the best novice trophy. My most recent win was for Ravio in August of 2019 with best in show. It’s amazing, I never thought I would get this far, but I’m so grateful for everything I’ve been a part of.

Again, it’s totally not about winning, but I’ll admit that it does feel really nice to have my hard work appreciated. Just as drawing, I still feel like I have a lot of room for improvement in my cosplay, so winning a few contests here and there definitely helps my low self-esteem.

Do you prefer skits or walk-ons?

I’ve only ever done walk-ons. I’ve never had anyone to do a skit with and I don’t think I could pull one off on my own. I’d love to do one eventually, but for now, our panels are good enough.

How many friends have you made because of cosplay?

Quite a lot. My Instagram is full of cosplayers I’ve met at conventions and I love seeing their cosplays and drawings, it’s all so inspiring!

Do you attend photoshoots and meet-ups outside of conventions?

Occasionally. I’ve never done a professional photoshoot (though one day I’d like to,) but I have attended a few meetups. I’ve done one for Steven Universe, Once Upon a Time, Disney, and I actually accidentally walked into a Fire Emblem: Awakening one dressed as Laurent, so that worked out.

What is the funniest reaction you’ve gotten cosplaying from people outside of the community?

The best one was when I was dressed as Link and my friend and I were on the subway. There was a mom and her kid sitting across from us and she pointed to me and said to her child, “Look, an elf! You see? Santa’s got his helpers out all year round, so you have to be good!”

I also had another wonderful experience outside of a con dressed as Link, though it’s not as funny but more just a sweet memory. It’s quite a bit, but luckily I’ve already written about it for Zelda Universe so I’ll just link it here for anyone who’s interested.

Name a few cosplays you’re planning to do next:

I’ve got to get Soren (Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance) done soon. I’ve been wanting to do this cosplay forever and I did start it, but I need to finally finish it. Dimitri (Fire Emblem: Three Houses) is also on my list to do next. Not sure about who else I want to do for sure, but some ideas that have floated around in my head have been Tilly Green (Big City Greens), Anna with her Frozen 2 look, Princess Peach (Super Mario), and a Thalmor Mage (Skyrim.)

What is your dream cosplay?

Princess Zelda from Twilight Princess. I’m still too scared to try to cosplay her. I bought a cheap starter costume that I was going to build off of and it wasn’t turning out the way I wanted, so I put it off again. One day I’ll feel confident enough to make her costume, but until then I’m totally satisfied with my Link cosplays.

What do you take into consideration when picking a character to cosplay?

Honestly, I just have to love them as a character and the costume itself has to seem do-able. I mean, I’m totally not opposed to buying cosplays if I really want to be a particular character, but like I said, making it means all the more to me. It’s my display of affection towards that character, the creators behind them, and the series as a whole.

Is cosplay serious business for you?

Yes and no. No because I don’t do it for money, likes, or internet fame. I do it because it’s fun and what I like to do. Yes because I go all out when I cosplay. I do everything I can to get the look the way I want it and I put my blood, sweat, and tears into it when I make them by hand.

What is your favorite thing about cosplay?

Everything: Dressing up as a character I love, roleplaying them, taking photos, just everything! I would do it more often if I could!

How do you want to grow as a cosplayer?

I want to learn how to make more. I want to build armor, I want to learn new makeup and hairstyling techniques, and so much more. I’m happy where I am, but I know I can be better. I will watch others and learn from them and push myself to try new things!

Are you willing to answer questions and help other cosplayers?

Absolutely! I may not be a top dog of cosplaying, but if I can help someone with something I’ve learned along the way, I’m more than happy to help!

Writing

When did you start writing?

I started in middle school as well, I used to write a Nintendo fan fiction called “The Kirby Show,” where Kirby and his friends would get into wacky sitcom scenarios. They were really just knock-offs of the television shows I used to watch back in the day, but hey, everyone’s gotta start somewhere.

As for my original writing, I started that more in high school. I still wrote a lot of fan fiction at that point, but I was starting to develop my own characters as well. I thought it about time to think of my own creations, and I did. I remember I was in my Godmother’s car when I thought of the main three characters and since then the cast has expanded so much, their stories are much better developed, and the lore is much more solid.

When you were a beginning writer, what did you write primarily? What do you write now, primarily? (i.e. romance, fan-fiction, poetry)

As mentioned before, I started out writing stories about characters that were not my own. Now I do all original writing — well, aside from my work at Zelda Universe. There I get to write about all the unique aspects of one of my favorite game series of all time, so there’s that as well. Writing there has helped me start writing little fandom topical posts for my own blog, such as top 10’s, reviews, and other things along those lines.

How often do you write?

I make it a habit to try and write at least a half-hour a day. If I’m really on a roll, I could write up to a few hours a day before I get burnt out. Even though I’m not always writing, I’m always developing the stories in my head.

When is your favorite time of the day to write?

I always write a half hour before I go to bed. The later it is, the more ideas keep rolling in. With my early hours for work now it’s harder to stay up late, but that doesn’t stop the ideas. I just gotta push myself a little harder to start earlier to have more time before I need to go to bed.

Do you have a writing muse? If so, who/what?

Not in particular. I always just write about what I like and incorporate different aspects of my life into it. I guess I’m my own muse in that sense? I don’t know. I just write what I do know.

What is your most popular lit piece?

Out of all my public pieces, I’d say either my “Animal Crossing Diaries” series or my “Endless Ocean” screenplay. “Vagabond” gets some decent attention as well, which is nice, but honestly, I’d be happy if there was just one person enjoying my work, so I really can’t complain.

What is the piece you are currently writing?

Out of my public blog works, “Vagabond,” from my Zelda Universe collection I’m working on a character piece on Colin from Twilight Princess.

What is the piece you most recently finished?

On my blog that would be my “Top 10 Favorite Fire Emblem Characters” list. For Zelda Universe, it’s actually a piece about Fire Emblem as well — It was DS week, I could write about whatever DS game I wanted to, of course I have to sneak in some Fire Emblem.

What piece are you most proud of?

While “Vagabond” definitely needs some more work, out of all the pieces I’ve posted publicly, that one is the one I am the proudest of. If anything just for Kurt and Maerwynn. They are two of my favorite characters to play around with and I’m so happy that somehow I was allowed to think these two up.

In my more private works, my fantasy story is my pride and joy. I feel so blessed to have been able to come up with these characters, and I do hope that someday I will be able to share them, whether on a television screen as I’ve always dreamed of in a novel of some sort. One day, maybe.

What piece are you most disappointed in?

It’s not so much disappointment, but rather I’ve grown so much in my work, it’s very hard for me to look back at my first romance story. It’s a little cheesy and the dialogue is a bit clunky, some of the actions that my characters had performed totally go against what their characters have become now after spending a lot more time with them. It’s something I would love to revisit and maybe even go public with, but it’s going to take a lot of work.

From all of your stories, who is/are your favorite character(s) and why? (try to limit it to 3)

Since I only published “Vagabond” online, I’ll stick to characters from this story in particular.

Maerwynn is definitely a favorite because she’s got a lot of qualities that I wish I was bold enough to enact myself. She speaks her mind without a care of what anyone else will think, even if it’s blatantly rude. She goes for her goals, even if they may seem ridiculous, and she pursues them with great passion and ferocity. Even with this rough and tough exterior, she’s still got a softer side that she’s just discovering in her new life at the palace. Now, I wouldn’t ever recommend being like Maerwynn ALL the time, but there’s definitely is a time and place where we could all be a little bit more like her, I think. Her confidence is the thing I admire most about her.

Kurt I connect with as well. Again, he says all the things that we all wish we could get away with at one point or another, but he knows he can because he’s royalty. However, he’s got so much going on underneath the surface as well with the complications of his past. He’s learning to open up, connect with others, and understand his feelings. Despite feeling restricted by the laws of his kingdom and the traditions of the royal family, he finds his own way to feel free and be himself.

What is the best compliment you ever got on your writing?

My best friend who I’ve been sharing these stories with for as long as we’ve known each other told me the nicest thing not to long ago. I always laugh at myself for going so crazy in-depth with the lore and characters of my fantasy world, but she told me how she’s admired that and the love and care I put into each little thing was what made it so great. It really meant the world to me to hear that and I can’t thank her enough for all the love and support throughout the years!

What is your main goal in writing?

I don’t know if there’s one main goal in particular, but I suppose if I had to pick just one, it would be to show good through the works of my characters and hope and pray that it inspires others to be like them. Kindness is growing scarce in the world, and if I can just inspire a little bit of it in someone, I suppose that’s all I can ask for.

Have you ever been published?

No, but I am aiming for it. Once I complete Vagabond, give it another revise myself, and hopefully find an editor to give it another look over, I’d love to find someone to publish my book or even self publish on a platform like Amazon. Just something to get my work out there.

Questions asked by you

Who is an artist that you look up to? There are a few artists online that I follow who I just adore their work. Three that come to mind in particular are Bianca Roman-Stumpff, Bellhenge, and TheStarfishFace. Their art is so different from mine, but I think that’s probably why I love it so much (if that makes sense?) They each have such a unique style and great subject material, I highly recommend giving them a look!

What did you think of “Frozen 2”?

I loved it. No secret that I’m a huge Frozen fan, so I was bound to like it. I was actually really nervous about how it was going to end, but I can say (without spoilers) that I am 100% satisfied with how it concluded. Also, Kristoff finally gets the spotlight that he deserves, thank you, Disney.

However, as much as I did love it, I do totally admit I do see flaws in it that could have been improved on. That being said, there was that in the first movie too and I stilled loved it. The characters have enough charm to keep the film entertaining throughout and I just adore them!

What does your family think of your art?

My parents have always encouraged me about my art and I know my grandmother loves it; I gave her a sweater with the art she liked of mine last Christmas and my mom says she wears it all the time. The rest of my family knows and supports my art as well, I never really had any issue with my small art business and the family.

Any memorable cosplay experiences at a con?

So many. I’ve shared a few before, but I think I’d like to make a whole article on the great cosplay experiences I’ve had! There are so many to talk about and stories to share.

Is there a type of art that you would like to get into? I’ve seen a lot of people doing wood carving and burning, but that looks insanely difficult.

I’ve actually been considering wood burning, haha! It does look difficult, that’s why I’ve been hesitant, but maybe in the future I’d give it a shot. I think they’d make my Skyrim wood pieces look legit.

I’m really up for trying anything. If money wasn’t a thing, I’d have tried a lot more by now. In the future, I’d love to try needlepoint as well!

Recently, I had been asked about some of the work that I do, and I thought a fun way to just that was to fill out a few questionnaires. Here I talk about some of the high and low points of doing what I do, what inspires me, and my process of creativity. Welcome all! If you're reading this, I'm assuming you're familiar with my work as either an artist, cosplayer, writer or any of the other creative things I do.

#art #artist #ask #author #cosplay #cosplayer #Q&A #writing

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newgeht · 6 years

Text

Leur Amour S'épanouit

Chapter 2

Summary: Only so many things could stand in the way of Sting and Rogue's destined path. At this point, it was just Yukino, but Rogue couldn't let her go. Was it because of shame or stubbornness? Characters: Sting Eucliffe, Rogue Cheney, Erza Scarlet, Makaroc Dreyar, OC Rating: T Words: 6,575 FFnet | AO3

It was an ongoing cycle of boring meeting after boring meeting with no end in sight. This conference made Sting discover one of his worse nightmares and he was living it every single day. He just wished for the next two days to be over and take that sucky train back to Azura with Rogue. The thought of the shadow dragon slayer twisted his whole body, in a ways equally pleasant and painful. The brooding man was always in his thoughts creeping in at the most unexpected of moments, moments such as this.

Some old guy from Toad Stool was speaking about reward increases. Which was followed by a heavy argument from a couple of the larger guilds. Who made him guild master again? Rogue would be so much more suited for the job but he was in another large meeting room.

He kept his eyes down on his paper, gripping his pen as he doodled on the margin. Small swirls and lightning bolts were drawn onto the piece of parchment, maybe he should become an artist instead of a mage. He would be the best at it, hell, he would he the best at anything he tried. Becoming more determined he scribbled some more on his paper, his tongue poking out at bit from his deep concentration. The black ink spread around his meaningless notes, he didn't understand economics so they were of no importance to him.

His ears perked up from a familiar voice, cerulean eyes looking up on the form of the newest head chairman, Makarov. A small portrait of him would be nice; Sting quickly drew a body and gave him his infamous scruffy hair. To top it all off, he drew a large comediacly large bulbous nose. When he looked back up at the small old man, the noses didn't seem completely right but at least he tried.

An abnormally large mallet slammed down on his paper, Sting sitting up as straight as a board. His pen went flying overhead as he saluted the councilmen in front of him. “Yes sir!” His voice a higher pitch than normal as he looked over the small stout man, that was Makarov. The tiny man had become the senior chair in the magic council after the events of Tartaros due to his title of wizard saint. The Magic Council also needed someone they could trust, so Makarov was really the only option. In his stead, Erza Scarlet became the next guild master not his grandson. It was a shock to most but a welcome surprise, the red head truly deserved the honour.

“Hehe,” the old man chuckled, “you seem to be writing down some excellent notes, Master Eucliffe. Would you like to share some of those…” Makarov’s attention turned to the paper, a grin almost larger than his face appearing. “Wonderful diagrams with us.”

All eyes in the room turned to face the young guild master, his whole body heating up with embarrassment. “Well you see uhhh…” Sting grabbed the stack of papers and held them at a inauspicious length from his body and looked over them, speaking in a louder tone than normal so everyone could hear. “This diagram is not really complete yet,” a knowing grin came from Makarov, “I will present it when I'm done.” The blond rubbed the back of his neck, beaming a small smile to the circled table of guild masters.

“I see,” the old man was really out for blood. “We will chat about this later then young man, I would love to see your ideas.” Makarov still stood on the white table, waddling as he continued his previous speech.

“Of course,” Sting grumbled but Makarov was too far away to hear. Not like it would have mattered if he disagreed, that perverted old man would find him if he tried to give him the slip.

After the meeting was over, Sting lounged around until the other masters left. This took a longer amount of time than he thought as everyone had to chit-chat. Didn't they all have time to go out for drinks after all the meetings were done?

He sat up on the table, looking over the packet he had received. Most of its contents were lost to him, when would a mage ever have the time to learn the fundamentals of running a business (also known as keeping the guild afloat) and then managing money; he felt as if they expected too much of him. Sting had trouble with these concepts, he knew once he got back to the hotel room the packets he had received today would go straight to Rogue. His partner always knew how to explain things in a way that he would understand.

Sting grew giddy as he thought of seeing Rogue again, even when the man was not in the best of moods. Just the presence of the shadow slayer lifted his soul to new heights, he never understood how Rogue didn't see it. He had always needed the ruby eyed man in his life.

Sting chewed on his inner lip, older couple shuffling out of the conference room. Shifting in his seat, it appeared as if Fairy Tail’s previous guild master had left too -leaving him all alone. How rude.

“Sting, my child.” Makarov’s voice was calling him and Sting turned to see the old man in front of him. It was odd that he not only referred to him as a child but as his own.

The young guild master smiled at his elder, looking down at his figure. He always forgot how small he was in person. “Heya, Makarov. What did ya need?”

Makarov's mustache twitched as he eyed Sting, his hand enlarging to pat the dragon slayer on the back. In a teasing voice, “I just wanted to let you know those ‘diagrams’ you drew were stellar but maybe you should pay more attention. That would be a nice change for once.”

Denying his accusation, the blond shook his head feverishly. “Sir, I was paying attention the whole time! Those uhm… diagrams were just my understanding of the presentation.”

A smug grin appeared on Makarov’s face as he held Sting’s interpretation of how he looked up to his face. “I think I look quite nice, though the nose could have some better work. Hehe.”

“How did you get those,” Sting exclaimed, swiping the documents from his hand. This made Sting admit to his folly, “Alright, fine. I wasn't paying attention but I did for the first part.”

The elderly man chuckled, holding his hand to his chest. “You're so easy to poke at. I didn't come here to scold you but it was just too easy.” His laughter was a clacking cackle which was refreshing to the youthful laughter he typically heard in his own guild. “I just came here to say you're doing a wonderful job with Sabertooth. I'm glad my children have such wonderful shitty demons.” The old man’s brows drooped sullenly at the last words, Tartarus not a good memory for anyone. “You really lead a good group of mages.”

The blond was taken back by the councilman’s statement, he felt a surge of honor well up in his chest. The great Makarov was complimenting him, out of all the more experienced guild masters here. “It's nothin’, old man. It's my newfound duty to protect my friends and guildmates, nobody is gonna stop me even if it's a bunch of lame demons. That's why we went to get our lady.”

At the mention of the lady the wizard saint perked up. “How is Minerva doing these days?”

Sting was unsure of how to answer without revealing too much private information. He stumbled over his words, “Well… she is fine but still coping. She's become a much better person since…”

Makarov seemed satisfied with this answer and pulled his mustache between his fingers, rolling the tip between his thumb and forefinger. “I hope she's having an easy time on the path of light, keep an eye on her. The darkness will try to snatch her right back up.” With this cryptic statement, Makarov made his leave.

Following the motion of him, the dragon slayer left the empty conference room. The word's deeper meaning utterly lost to Sting, making his head hurt as he pondered on the old man’s small speech. Minerva had made great progress in the time since Tatarus, even becoming an idol to the younger mages in Sabertooth. Surely nothing bad would happen anytime soon. And if there was the chance of any evil awakenings, Sabertooth would put a halt to it -they always did.

Makarov was waddling down the hallway and stopped in his tracks, looking back at Sting. “I hope to see you at the party later tonight.” The stout old man turned and kept going, his wishes were more like a command.

Like hell Sting was going to go to some party with a bunch of old geezers. All they did was talk about politics, and he didn’t understand a lick of it. But if Makarov expected to see him there, then he had to go.

Pushing through the large doors of Era, the greatest star of all was reigning high in the sky. Its great radiant beams granting Sting a highly needed boost of energy. The small pamphlet given to them on Monday held all the dates, times, and information on the meeting the guild masters and their chosen representative would be attending. Pulling the beat up paper from his pocket, Rogue had just started a meeting. He grimaced at the fact, Sting was hoping to buy them a nice lunch.

Walking down the concrete steps a breeze pushed the familiar scent of strawberries his way, a small tinge of iron mixed in. His nose was now leading him toward the intoxicating scent, an armour clad woman sternly speaking to someone. Red hair flowed gracefully with the breeze, turning in small rivulets along the gentle slope of her back. The scarlet color accentuated by the metallic plates adorning her torso.

Sting was always attracted to the color red, it’s beauty held the most bittersweet of feelings. Erza’s hair reminded him of Rogue’s own ruby orbs and he grit his teeth as he thought fondly of the shadow dragon slayer. He really hoped they would be able to have dinner together later.

Taking his eyes off the scarlet beauty, he made his way down the steps; hoping to avoid Fairy Tail’s guild master -his stomach was in much dire need of attention.

The blond licked his lips at the thought of all the possible food choices within Era’s central market place, he was going to have a great time there. Moving his arms behind his head, a spine-tingling cool hand caught his forearm. Sting groaned internally, he really thought he managed to avoid Erza.

“Sting,” the woman’s voice in her always mildly serious tone. He didn’t really think there was anything important to discuss, but the red head always seemed fixated on the most minute and meticulous of details. “It’s nice to see you today. I find it surprising you didn’t stop by to greet me.”

Sting pulled his arm from her armoured hand, awkwardly chuckling as he rubbed the back of his head. Could he really think of a plausible excuse for the great Titania. “Well uhhh… You seemed kinda busy back there. I didn’t want ta bother ya, ya know?”

The requip mage’s arms crossed over her stomach, giving the blond a hard cold stare. The two had been fond of each other since he was Natsu’s ex-boyfriend, but he could never get used to the judgemental stares she would give.

The blond continued to babble under her stare, “Plus, I was just going to get some food. My stomach is literally eating itself.”

Her brown eyes lit up and she grabbed his wrist, beginning to drag him off the marketplace. “What a good suggestion, Sting. Getting lunch together is such a marvelous idea.”

He could practically feel the sweat starting to form at the tops of his eyebrows, as he was dragged along by his fellow guild master. This situation was something he had never expected out of today but maybe he could get her to pay for the food. It would be a win-win for the both of them.

Shortly after paying (as in, Erza payed for it all) and waiting for the food to be made, the guild master duo found themselves sitting at a small dining table. The marketplace was vibrant and full of various oddities of all kinds of wonders,as was to be expected of Fiore’s magic capital. New magic technologies were on display in the crowded booths, every seller trying to catch the attention of those walking by. This did distract Erza and himself on multiple occasions -who didn’t want a ring that changed color by your mood? Though he could see the stars in Erza’s eyes whenever they passed a weapon’s booth. Unlike the blond, she proved quite resistant to the charm of all the shiny new toys.

The metal chair was certainly not inviting as he settled into it, the seat’s rusty exterior scratching his arms. He had a large tray of food, stacked sky high; compared to Erza who only had a small piece of strawberry cake. Sting had never seen the red head with anything other than the sweet pastry in front of her -did she ever eat anything else?

Like a pig, he began to dig into his platter of food shoving the street food down into his mouth. It was oh so satisfying to feel his belly fill up with the tasty foods. Crumbs and inedible debris flew about, shoveling his food down into his mouth nonstop . He was sure Erza was speaking but his focus was entirely on the platter of dwindling food in front of him. Sting’s throat bubbled up, placing his hand on his stomach in content -satisfaction and comfort now enveloping him. Opening his mouth, he emitted a loud burp everyone around the two looking at them in disgust or amusement.

Sting wiped his face off with a napkin, completely unashamed of his bad manners. Erza’s plate was barely touched, only a small bite taken from the spongy yellow cake. “Say ‘excuse you’, Sting. You would think a guild master would set a better example.” She sent a playful look his way, but her tone was serious as always.

Sheepishly he blushed, finally noticing the stares the two were getting. “Yeah… ‘Scuse me,” he interrupted himself by laughing, “The food was just too good.”

Erza nodded her head, placing her fork down beside her cake. Her gaze turned to him, her brown eyes narrowing, “I see, but I need to discuss some things with you concerning your guild.”

Sting let out a groan in response, this whole week he had been talking about Sabertooth. Couldn’t he just take a break from boasting about how amazing they were? The scarlet-haired woman responded by swatting his hand. “Ouch! What was that for?!” He exclaimed, rubbing his now pink hand.

“Sometimes you’re as disrespectful as Natsu,” he could tell Erza regretted the words as soon as they tumbled out of her mouth. The dragon slayer’s name burned his heart, he never wanted to be compared to his ex ever again. “Please forgive-”

The blond held his hand up, “No need, Erza. I was out of line and you are a woman who demands respect from her audience, ya know. I can give that ta ya, just forgive me for being so… childish.” Another word that put him down. He rubbed his hands against his legs, trying to get away from his typical behaviors.

Mocha eyes softened, the air settling into a much more mellow atmosphere. A pleased glint crossed those same eyes and she took another bite of her glorified strawberry cake. “You are very surprising sometimes. It’s very admirable to say that of yourself, Sting. I can see why those in Sabertooth look up to you so fondly. You’re a great leader, when you really want to.”

A smile was latched onto his face from her compliment. Another chuckle slipped from his lips, taking kindly to the guild master sitting in front of him. “Thanks, Erza. I have made a great effort to be better for the guild’s sake -we have come a long way.”

It really had been, it had been a real struggle to break from the reputation they had previously attained. The were seen as bullies, the unconquerable king of the hill (until Fairy Tail had regained its status), and the new example for all newly formed guilds of the time. Cruelty and viciousness had swept through the guilds in Fiore because of this imaginary competition of being the best, although it had never existed in the first place. There was no such thing as “the best”, every guild had its pros and cons. Sabertooth having many negatives but it was perfectly balanced out by the positives, and he assumed that of any other guild.

He started the reformation by kicking members who were stuck in the past or who had a current criminal reputation. Sting welcomed them to come back once they had found the light, but he had a larger group to care for. Then their funds were tidied up and placed in fair order for renovation. He was so proud of the job he did with the guild hall. His last revision was the roles everyone had played in the guild, everyone was equal now and free to do as they choose (as long as it was legal).

A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, as she mindlessly toying with the piece of cake. A true predator always played with its prey, Sting grinned at the thought. “Aside from your occasional mistakes in good choices, Sabertooth is just as good as Fairy Tail. I’m glad to call you guys our companions.” They had always been as good as the fairies, or so he liked to think.

His grin turned into a goofy smile, all of it was directed toward the requip mage. She lightly blushed from his smile, it was cute to see the somber mage somewhat flustered for once. The pink tinge of her cheeks suited her features, if he hadn’t been so gay, Erza would have been exactly the type of woman he would want. Too bad she was engaged to Jellal, they were made in the stars.

Speaking of those bright, glittery, and wonderful balls of fire, he knew Rogue loved to go stargazing. Maybe he would take the brooding friend out later, they had avoided each other since the train ride to Era. Only seeing one another during meetings and back at the hotel room; having exchanged a couple words between one another but hadn't really said anything to one another.

Leaning back in his chair, he pushed the shadow mage from his head. Deciding the beratement of flattery was unusual from the woman, he poked at her a bit. “Erza, are ya complimenting me for some other reason? I mean, I appreciate it an’ all but-”

Her back straightened up, surprise evident on her face. Cutting the blond off, she blurted out, “Why do you think so?”

With his contagious grin widening imperceptibly, he shifted forward and wiggled his nose. Erza shifted in her seat, looking a bit squeamish and he prodded at her more, taking a small whiff of the air. “I can smell that you’re hiding something, “ Sting cood.

But Erza had an iron will, not giving into his teasing so easily. “Dragon slayers can’t smell things like that.” She certainly wasn’t wrong, but Sting knew that the woman wasn’t typically so generous.

Now he bared his ivory canines, nearing her piece of cake with his mouth open. The red head looked so conflicted as he closed in on her piece of strawberry cake, slowly prying her fork from her fingers. “Tell me, Erza or your cake will suffer!” In his great exclamation, he flicked his tongue over the vanilla frosting.

He should have known better than to mess with the Great Titania’s cherished food. In an instant, her fork was pressed against his throat and she hoisted him up by the collar of his shirt; brown eyes filled with a burning fire, protecting the delicacy she loved so much. “You play too much, Sting. My cake’s honour will not be diminished by your vile tongue!”

“Heh…” Sting was in awe of Erza, no wonder why Natsu had called her a monster. He liked the flared spark she had shown him and he carefully wrapped his hand around her wrist. “I’ve learned my lesson, Erza! I will never touch the holy grail ever again!” He over exaggerated his words, slowly pulling the fork from his throat -he didn’t want to see how much damage she could truly do with it.

Sting slumped back onto the the table grateful that Erza didn't injure him with a fork. He was sure she could do it anytime she'd like. After the scarlet haired monster released her hold on him. With a small huff, she returned to her seat, “This treat is not for someone of the likes of you.” Erza pursed her lips, stabbing her fork down into the fluffy piece of cake and shoved the rest of the piece into her mouth.

The blond’s jaw dropped, astonished by the guild master’s gesture. She continued, speaking while chewing. “I would have rather savored this piece, but you insisted on getting into business,” she gave him a hard look, “This involves Sorcerer Weekly.”

Ah, yes. That magazine had been up to no good as of late. They had gone from the most reputable source for mage gossip (not that gossip was ever any good, but it was once truthful), to scummy reporters and paparazzi. Every issue was full of blatant lies about the lives of guild mages, new magics, The Council, and mages between those in the guilds. He was curious to know why Erza wanted to talk about it, Fairy Tail and Sabertooth weren’t involved with them as much anymore.

“What about them?” Sure he was interested but his tone conveyed his disinterest in the topic.

Erza sighed and pulled a small piece of paper from her magical storage. “As you may know, Lucy worked as an editor and reporter for them a couple years ago. She ran into Jason recently and he gave her this.” Carefully she slid the paper across the table, seeming scared to touch it. “It’s an article that’s going into the next issue.”

Plucking the paper up, his eyes started to lazily skim across the words. It started out with the details of Rogue and Yukino’s relationship (which he really didn’t care for). Then it took a turn, talking about the scandalous affair between the two top women of Sabertooth -Yukino and Minerva. This was the answer to his prayers, but could Sorcerer Weekly really be telling the truth? They could have written about him and Rogue for Christ's sake. Just because they were friends didn’t mean they were fucking.

He held the paper to his face for another moment, peering at Erza. “What the hell is this?” Then he slammed it back onto the table with a disgusted flick of his wrist. If this was true, Rogue would be hurt deeply.

Her ironclad hand quickly swiped the paper back up, shoving it into her magical storage space. “I’m not usually one to get into gossip,” she paused, deciding her words very carefully, “but this definitely won’t be good for Sabertooth; whether it’s true or not.”

Sting could feel his lips curl in disgust. This could not be true in the slightest of capacities. “Erza, Yukino would never do this to Rogue. This article, is more like a shit stain. I can’t believe they would try to tear Sabertooth apart from with something like this.” His voice was filled with spite, there was no way in hell he would let something like this be published.

“Right.” Erza’s eyes flashed with regret, “I didn’t mean to insinuate anything, it’s just that this… article would boost Sorcerer Weekly’s name in the media again. And if this were to coincide with their upcoming ball, then they would get so much coverage.”

She was right. Their name had been going down ever since their first mistake -the engagement of Lyon and Meredy. Those two were never together to begin with, but the reporters believed anything that was fed to them. This announcement hurt Lyon’s relationship with Juvia, and things had been going downhill ever since. Something about two top mages -Minerva and Yukino- would not only boost their sales but put them in the spotlight once again.

But the dance was a completely different story, if this paper were was to be published before then, there would be absolutely no reason for Sabertooth to show. There would be too many questions, suspicions and judgements. They certainly didn’t need any doubt when it concerned the private lives of his guild mates. The way his mages held themselves in their personal lives, there was always going to be misgivings in life but this would put their own reputation at stake.

Sting leaned back in his chair and let out a deep sigh. He didn’t want this to affect anything but he had to face the facts. If this story was already in the works then there was no way it wouldn’t be published. “Once I get back to Azura, I’ll make sure to talk to Lucy about this. I’m going to make sure this doesn’t make the front page.”

With that said, he stood and left. There would be no other discussion about what had fallen into his hands. It was his duty to protect Rogue, and Sting wasn’t going to take any chances when it came to his heart.

Shit was going to hit the fan soon if he didn’t stop this. Maybe he could let Rogue know without telling him directly.

Rogue was assured by his best friend countless times that they didn’t have to dress for this party, yet everywhere he looked was a nice cocktail dress or a buttoned up dress shirt with slacks. Holding his glass, he nudged Sting, “I think the right phrase to use right now is ‘I told you so.’”

The blond scoffed and lifted his hands in exasperation, “That old man said it was a party. How was I supposed ta know that all these old geezers would play dress up?”

Rogue took a lengthy sip from his glass, disinterested in Sting’s whining. “We are in Era, Sting. Everything here is always held to the highest standards, so naturally, this would be turned into a cocktail party of sorts.”

“Your head is too small to hold that big of a brain. You should be guild master instead, ya know.” Rogue rolled his eyes, the first couple times Sting suggested that he should take his place as Guild Master was a good confidence booster but now it was just annoying. Though being in the holy dragon slayer’s presence was always calming to him.

Rogue was about to comment on Sting’s remark, but a woman with billowing green hair came sauntering up to the both of them. Her face was plastered with the latest makeup brands, an unruly blend of colors and foundation. He never knew if she trying to pose as a drag queen, but her blending and eyebrows were always so horrible. She was known to everyone as Sorcerer Weekly’s hottest new reporter (hot as in still in progress), Lulu Nimby. A name as ridiculous as the woman standing in front of him.

“I thought reporters weren’t allowed into prestigious establishments,” Rogue said rather sarcastically, unhappy to see her.

Overly large pink nails pulled a pass from her bra, waving it in front of him. “As always, I have a pass, Rogue Cheney. I just have a few questions for you and your partner.” Lulu’s shrill voice mockingly emphasized the last word, a pen and notepad appearing in her hand.

Sting beat him to the punch, “Get outta here. If we were interested in answering questions we woulda’ve come right to Sorcerer Weekly.” His blue eyes flashed with dislike and hesitance, that was certainly odd.

“Oh, please,” she dragged out, those same pink acrylics flashing in the dim lighting. “I only have a single question. It won’t take long, I swear on it.”

Even though it was only once question - and seriously, how bad could that be? Sting interjected once again. “Nope! We aren’t accepting any questions at the moment. I'll only repeat myself once, get outta here Nimby.” Sting’s over-protectiveness was catching Rogue off-guard.

As nicely as possible, Rogue nudged Sting.. “I can take a question, but there won’t be any follow-ups. You better make this one question count. Knowing you, I can tell you came prepared with far too many.”

A pleased smile formed on her lips as she flipped through her pink notepad. “No, it’s ok, I really did just have one question.” Her eyes lit up with a mischievous deviance once she stopped flipping through the pad. “I just wanted to know how your anniversary with Yukino went. I assume you two went out before you came to Era with Sting.”

Sting looked at Rogue, his gaze sending an unsettling feeling down his spine. “Ya really don’t have ta answer this. You know they’re just going to make it something more than it is.”

The blond wasn’t wrong, but it would look worse if he didn’t answer. Rogue completely downed the rest of his drink, the question making a jab at his heart. Setting the glass down, he answered truthfully. “We didn’t do anything, our train ride was scheduled midday. I did make her some breakfast, even if I failed miserably.”

His comment gained a fit of giggles from the green haired reporter, her pen scribbling away at the small pad. “Uh huh… Anything else you want to let me know? Like morning time loving, or the gift you bought her?” Lulu sounded like she was on top of the world with the information she just gained.

“No follow-up questions,” the shadow slayer completely dismissed her. Rogue really wasn’t interested in what was to come from this, and he took another glass of champagne from a passing server. “I’m sure you have other people to interrogate.”

Her red contacts masked her disapproval, and she frowned. “Be like that then, I guess I do have other people to get the scoop on.” Her ridiculous heels clacked crudely, hardly blending in with the crowd as she walked away.

“I think we should leave…” Glancing over Sting, the dark haired mage could tell he was anxious about something.

Rogue nodded, making his way toward the bar’s doors. “It is getting very stuffy, I think I’m going to take a breather. You look like you could do with some fresh air too.”

Sting nodded and quickly pushed through the doors, the cool November air enveloping the duo almost immediately. The night was far from being young, the bright street lamps lighting their way to the hotel. Era was slumbering, those still awake emitting soft snores from the beast of a city. Walking along the cobblestone path, small puddles of water whispered to the sky and called for a greater fulfillment. Large gray clouds forming over the city, hiding the jewels of the sky. Not one bright diamond shining beyond those dull walls. He wished they would bring him another form of comfort, the darkness filling his thoughts with doubt.

He followed Sting, but soon realized that they were not on track to their assumed destination. He was leading them somewhere far from their hotel room. The blond was a good distance ahead of him, his feet eagerly yearning for a place that wasn’t made of stone. “Sting…” He quietly called, setting his pace faster.

The orange rays of the burning street lamp tinted his hair a melodramatic yellow, Sting huffing as he stood still. Rogue, brushed his hand against the man’s shoulder grazing the small tendrils of hair on the back of his neck. He could feel the blond shudder, shakily intaking a small breath.

In a soft tone Rogue spoke again, “Are you ok? You seem to be going for more than a walk.” It was always common for Sting to go for a stroll in order to get his frustrations out but this was much more than usual.

The smallest inclination of Sting’s head was his agreement. “I’m fine. I’m just taking you ta this place I found earlier this week.” His voice wasn’t lively, it had taken on the toll of recent events.

“Alright.” His blue satin gloved hand was open, Rogue’s own hand itching to fill the emptiness. He reached out, but Sting began to walk again. “Where are you taking us then?”

“You’ll see,” now Sting held a small amount of playfulness in his tone.

Rogue was surprised when he was led beyond the streets of Era. The serenity of the surrounding forest filled him with a calmness, the leafy boughs singing soft melodies with the accompanying winds. Enchanted with a dark green shine, small june bugs lighting their path up a lofty hill. On top the sky had opened up, the stars shining down on them. Brightly they twinkled, welcoming the duo in their holy presence. Sting smiled just as wide as those sparkling jewels, his expression more beautiful than anything Rogue had seen before.

The said man turned and gestured to the grass, “You wanna sit for a bit? I had a feeling that you might like it up here.” The stars reminded him of Yukino, but he pushed her from his thoughts.

Tugging the small string situated around his neck, his cape came undone. Rogue laid the fabric on the grass and sat upon it, patting the space next to him for Sting. “You’re like a magnet to these types of places.” Rogue chuckled, warmth spreading through his side as Sting plopped down.

“Nah, I think I just have the knack for finding beautiful places, things too. The shinier the better.” They both were now laughing, the air warming up too. Sting nudged Rogue, his finger pointing to the sky. “Like those stars, I think you call that one the little dipper.”

He shook his head, “No that’s the big dipper. You see how the smaller spoon is under it?” Rogue used his hand to point out the two constellations (the only two he could identify). He had amassed knowledge galore, but his interest had never lain in the stars -only the one next to him.

In awe, Sting grinned and pointed at another set of jumbled fragments of white jewels. “Ya know what that one is then? It kinda looks like a man.”

Rogue couldn’t really see anything, blaming his inactive imagination . It was rude to point at people, but if it looked like a man… He believed Yukino mentioned him once. “I think you may be talking about Hercules.” The only Greek hero to be put in the night sky, as legend had it. Someday he wished to be recognized in such a way.

Sting brushed against him as he sat back, head tilted up to the embroidered firmament. His blue eyes closed, a small hum of delight coming from his throat. Those same stars illuminating his tanned skin, making him glow. An ethereal being in his presence, someone so far from his touch but so close.

“You ever take Yukino to a place like this? I bet she would love it.”

The words rolled off his tongue so casually, the atmosphere seeming to heat up, a small burn rising in Rogue. The shadow slayer shifted to give them some much needed space, the stars dimming from the question.

“No, I don’t believe so. We went to a museum once…” He took Yukino wherever they wanted to go, she didn’t ever mention sitting under the stars. Maybe he should have asked, she really would have loved this. He grimaced and shoved his hands into his lap, the itch growing greater.

That same gloved hand taunting him by being placed so close to his leg. The tanned skin then flashed to a much more slim and pale hand, one he knew so well. Those hands had touched him in the most affectionate and sensual ways possible, there was no way he could betray them. But when he looked up at the stars, he felt a tug he had never felt before. Something that assured him of different possibilities.

All their luminescence was cascading onto Sting, feeding into him as a great spotlight. Sting coated in the cheerful cries that hailed from the large sky, a lackadaisical smile swiped across his mouth. He was basking in their light much as Rogue was from their absence.

Beautiful…

A serene expression a mask until those blue eyes bored into his own. Sting grinned and waved his hand in front of Rogue’s face. “Cat got your tongue? You started to stare off into space all the sudden.”

Caught in the act, his cheeks were buzzing to life and he shook his head. “Sorry, you just made me think of Yukino.” No, it was the two of them but this wasn’t the time to complicate the situation. The train ride was a rollercoaster of emotions, he couldn’t face those feelings again right now.

Sting’s face went unreadable, and Rogue internally cringed. The blond turned away in deep thought, still bathing in the night’s light. “Ya ever believe people could be written in the stars?”

Every internal alarm was set off, Rogue’s entire being frazzled by his inquiry. Sting wasn’t so articulate, but he knew exactly what the holy slayer meant. Looking back up to the sky, the burnette dwelled on the question. He was never much of a romantic, so he never thought of such stereotypical ideas. It was mind-boggling that it was presented to him in the first place, Yukino never mentioned anything like this before.

Now the cat really had his tongue. “Uhm… In this magic filled world, maybe.” His answer was broad, but he didn’t want Sting to get the wrong idea.

“I think it’s a yes or no question, Rogue.”

He was foolish to think Sting would take what was originally given. He always pushed for more and that was one thing he loved about him. Desire, passion, a fire that was always burning… things that were lost to him and Yukino.

“There is a possibility…” Who was he kidding? “Actually, I believe it can be true.” Rogue smiled, his body surging with a happiness he never had known.

Sting had the same look on his face, love sweeping down from it’s high position. The two had fallen from those glittering jewels from above, this he knew to be true.

“Someday people will see the two of us up there.” Sting proclaimed, standing with those same stars by his sides.

Rogue nodded, a pleasant silence accompanying them as they meandered their way through the streets of Era. Coming to the consoling darkness of their once empty hotel room. The night was dark and light, much as the magics contained within the two mages.

#stingue #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #erza scarlet #makarov dreyar #fanfiction #fairy tail fanfiction #wwtdp #finally done with this chpater oml

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rhydart · 6 years

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Fun facts

...about the stained glass series, just because < 3

Block of text ahoy! (if you want to compare, all of them are here. If you want to, I suggest opening them in different tabs)

Any questions you’re curious about (or anything else!) feel free to comment with one : )

Dirk’s outfit is purposely a throwback to Dave’s (see: cape, armguards, tunic lines, etc)

Roxy’s and Dirk’s poses are mirrored

Roxy’s fluid lines are a throwback to Rose’s, Dirk’s rigid line’s to Dave’s

I didn’t actually know what most of them looked like until I posted them- the colors on my laptop are blueshifted juuust enough to make a difference when I’m coloring

Now I take a screenshot and look at it on my phone to check the colors before posting. Not that I often change anything...

It wasn’t until Jane’s that I standardized the process and the line widths (depending on level of detail)

the line widths are pretty arbitrary, but constant! Symbols are outlined in 28 pixel width, the face details 18 (iirc. Its written down in my base sai file)

All of the pictures after... John, I believe, are big enough to be posters before I shrink them down for tumblr. I did go back and redo the first ones so they were the same large size in case I wanted to make posters for myself

I have not done this, because a) I’m lazy and b) I don’t want to stare at them so often I grow sick of them. The set of eight are my computer background though! It’s eye candy, so many vibrant colors. Makes me happy : )

Jake’s is my favorite, closely followed by Jade (Rose’s colors are still my favorite though). My least favorite is Dave’s, after Roxy’s

This is because I spent the most time on it and eventually posted when I was sick of looking at it, rather than because I was happy. I don’t regret it because people seem to love it, only that I can’t appreciate it other than objectively... oh well.

Jake and Jade have the same background setting. They are the only ones.

But Rhy, Jake’s is a reference to the Hope Thing he did! That’s not the same background as Jade’s, they’re in different lands!

Artistic licenceeeee~ because I love their island

Something that caused a surprising amount of grief was making sure the faces weren’t all pointing in the same direction. I tried to keep it varied, best I could

So did making sure they were all the same height. After a while I just kept a barely visible Rose in the background of the draft to compare proportions to

For Jane and Dirk I looked up old portraits of European nobility for posing ideas

There are four files for each picture. Tiny stained glass.sai (for the draft and later resizing for tumblr), large stained glass.sai (for the final work) and a jpeg for each

The large sai image for Dirk was 345mb. The small jpeg was 5mb. LAYERS \jazz hands

Jane’s ribbons are supposed to resemble vines. John’s fireflies weren’t /supposed/ to resemble pokeballs, but I don’t regret it ; )

The whole project was kicked off by a fic with strong imagery I adored and forgot the title of, to my dismay when I posted Rose. It deserves all the credit and love- if you know why Dave’s piece especially looks familiar (and it would because I drew a doodle while reading the fic in a genetics notebook and found it months later), please tell me so I can thank the author and tell them this is for them < 3

It was really disappointing to get to John and realize that there were no more swooping skirts or capes.

I love swooping skirts ;-;

I’ve been very careful to make sure that all the pieces of glass in the art wouldn’t be an absolute nightmare to cut out of glass. Not because I think anyone will actually make them, but because I wanted to keep them ‘realistic’ (as though you could actually see them in a cathedral)

There is still a rejected Dirk piece in my art folder, fully completed, but it didn’t go well with the others

The one detail I was determined to fit into Dirk’s design was the red band around his throat. That’s been planned for a while ^^’

Three people helped a lot as my sounding board. @sassytail @merlinity and @eighthdoctor. Sassytail was a source of help beta-ing the drafts and titles, especially the first four. Merlinity actually drew alongside me for a lot of late ‘16-mid ‘17, and kept me doing art. Eighthdoctor listened to me whine and told me which versions looked better. Much love to all of them for putting up with my griping < 3

Spot the reference!

Roxy’s titles have a reference to my favorite Queen song, Jake’s to Lara Croft, Dirk’s to a favorite anime, and Jade to the Tortall series

I’m positive there’s more because I think I’m hilarious. I’ve just forgotten them.

John’s titles were like pulling teeth.

Jane’s executive/executioner line makes me gleeful < 3

Rose’s titles are still my favorites, and their cadence has influenced all the rest. I do regret this. Titles are the hardest part

After the disaster that was trying to come up with the first four, I wrote out a bunch of keywords and themes and accomplishments for the alphas in a little moleskin, and planned them out ahead of time

Except for Dirk, who I /apparently/ got bored of writing halfway through, leaving much frustration for my future self in a very Karkat manner

If you sent me a nice ask and I never responded or posted it (probably during 2016, it was a bad year): I saved it. It’s still in my inbox, making me smile during bad days, and I’m just too awkward to respond years after you’ve probably left the fandom. But from the bottom of my heart, truly and sincerely: thank you.

And finally, on a less heavy note: I was thiiiiiis close to calling Dirk ‘Lord of the Niobraran Sea,’ but the metric didn’t fit, and we couldn’t possibly have /that/ OTL

#homestuck stained glass #personal posts #if you actually read all of these silly facts #thank you < 3 #I'm still proud of myself for finishing this long (long) term project #and thankful to all the people who followed to watch me do it #the positive feedback is no small part of the reason I finished all eight #Hit a milestone with dirks posting so I should probably do a thank-you prompt celebration...

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flightyrock · 6 years

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Laundry Day

Summary: It’s laundry day for a certain pair of half ghosts. But when Vlad digs deeper than he should, he finds more than dirty laundry, testing the bonds between father and son.

A shameless fluff fic in which Vlad is too hard on himself (as usual), Daniel does his best to reassure him, and Vlad proves he is father of the year material.

Featuring: accidental naps, hugs galore, and rambling internal monologues.

Characters: Vlad Masters, Daniel Masters

Tags and Warnings: Father/son relationships, Backstory, Emotional fluff/pain, Really Long Flashbacks, invasion of privacy, miscommunication, allusions to suicide, hopelessness, fake science, grey ethics, fake medical jargon, dehumanization, Vlad’s special brand of angst, mild body horror, clichéd tropes, happy ending, cuteness

If you’re concerned, feel free to PM me and I will be more than happy to provide a detailed summary or tell you what parts to avoid. All of the iffy ones, save for the emotional hurt/comfort, only last for a few paragraphs. Most of them are contained in the flashbacks, which are in italics. But on a whole, it’s father/son fluff and feels. Be safe!

Word Count: ~10,500

I’ll also make this available on AO3 for your viewing pleasure, since I know some people (myself included) prefer that format better. But tumblr makes it easier to share, so that won’t be linked for awhile; I’m thinking a week?

Some notes before we dive in, since this is the first fic I’ve written in this particular universe, so there are a few (read: a lot) of things I need to cover. Explanation and story under the cut!

Update: This isn’t posting right, so I’m going to remove the links for now. If this works, I’ll make a separate post with the links.

This fic takes place in what I’ve nicknamed the “Perfect Son AU,” an alternate universe to Danny Phantom where Vlad successfully created a clone, which he named Daniel. It’s a working title, and someone else might have already come up with something better, but I’m running with it for now.

I did not create Daniel; he was originally introduced as an unnamed character along with a possible future version of Vlad in Butch Hartman’s second “Danny Phantom: 10 Years Later video.” All we’re told is that he’s a mixed clone of Danny and Vlad.

Of course, this premise has tons of potential, and several artists have created content for him. I fell head over heels for @schnivel‘s interpretation; the designs and characterization are just incredible, and gave me that creative itch. I live for that cute picture of Vlad and Daniel at a Packer’s game. There are also a bunch of doodles, and the tags provide fun details, hinting at character dynamics and firmly establishing Daniel’s presence in-universe. The rest of his art is awesome, too; it’s incredibly expressive (facial expressions and body language are always SPOT ON), and he has some really neat OCs, so be sure to check him out!

Schnivel also took the time to chat with me, and answered many of my questions regarding Daniel’s characterization. Thank you so much!

I discovered that other artists loved this version of the character as well, and during one of schnivel’s discussions with prom during one of @promsien‘s streams, she had the fun idea that Vlad knits Daniel sweaters, and heaven help anyone who ruins one of those.

Needless to say, this (and other details surrounding the fallout) gave me…ideas. This incident is only hinted at in this fic, which started out as a cute 1500 word fluff piece I thought up on the bus back to school after Thanksgiving break. But then plot and angst snuck in, and the characters just weren’t quite right, so four rewrites, 9000 words, and about two months later, here we are; the longest piece I’ve ever written.

Keep in mind that this is just my interpretation of schnivel’s canon, based on details from several sources, so the events described here may or may not have occurred; essentially, it’s a fanfic of schnivel’s AU.

This story takes place after about a year after Daniel’s creation, in the transition period between schnivel’s 16 y/o and post puberty designs. While not necessary to enjoy the story, I strongly recommend taking a look at these before you begin reading; you won’t be sorry. Some other quick details to keep in mind:

1. Daniel is still in high school, and is enrolled in Casper High.

2. Daniel =/= Danny

3. Yes, Daniel knows Danny and they do not get along.

4. Vlad and Daniel live together, and share a healthy (and frequently adorable) father/son relationship. They get along incredibly well most of the time, and genuinely care about each other. Vlad is finally happy (mostly), and it’s my favorite thing ever. Do me a favor and do not tag this as ship, please and thank you.

5. Danny is not in this fic, but he is referenced a couple of times; once, confusingly, as Daniel. (I’m sorry; blame Vlad.) It’s not mentioned in this fic, but he doesn’t call Danny “Daniel” anymore, for obvious reasons.

Alright, enough notes! I’ve rambled long enough! Kudos to you for reading this far; I do think the context is necessary to fully appreciate this story, so if you skimmed, I completely understand, but I urge you to check out the five-point list and links [sorry guys, removed these to see if they were the problem] above. And remember to check out @schnivel and @promsien. Thanks, guys! So, without further ado, enjoy!

“Daniel, laundry!”

The amiable call echoed off the interior walls of a luxurious but tasteful mansion overlooking Amity Park; walls that had changed extensively in the past year. Previously, the nondescript barriers existed out of necessity, stabilizing the considerable load of the structure and dividing too much space into too many cold, empty rooms.

One wall in particular, located between the entry and the main staircase, changed dramatically, and now proudly announced to visitors that two shared the space, and quite happily at that.

An eclectic selection of frames housing amateur photographs were mounted artfully in a quantity bordering on excessive. From this, an outsider could reasonably assume that the curator was either an overly-enthusiastic hobbyist or a new parent.

In this case, both assumptions would be correct. Indeed, most of the photos focused on a single boy, specifically, a teenager, sporting unique, striped locks and a smile.

But this wasn’t your average, awkward, get-me-out-of-here, oh-my-god-are-we-still-not-done-taking-pictures-yet kind of smile that most teenagers plastered on instinctively to escape the camera: No, this was a genuine, candid expression of happiness that would make any photographer worth their salt dissolve into blissful tears. It would have been hard to believe the boy was truly a teenager, if not for the distinctive, almost puppy-like proportions that suggested there was still growing left to do.

He was occasionally joined by an older gentleman wearing a smile of his own; more guarded, but no less genuine. In these photos, the boy veritably beamed at the camera or the man himself, expression all the brighter in his company, leaving no doubt just who was responsible for cultivating such joy. Likewise, the boy coaxed the man out of his shell, steadily transforming a shyly quirked corner of the mouth into a joyful grin as the series progressed.

The gentleman in question was currently strolling around the house, dressed casually in socks, slacks, and a button-down. His sleeves were neatly rolled above the elbows, exposing muscular forearms that strained to maintain an awkward hold on the large basket of casual wear. His burden couldn’t have been too cumbersome, however, as he took a moment to admire the photo wall, as he always did.

He shifted the basket, clamping it against his left hip with the same arm, freeing his right to compulsively straighten an already perfectly-aligned portrait of the boy, providing an excuse to linger.

It was one of his favorites; a candid shot he had snagged during one of their first snows together. He was quite proud of it. Daniel kneeled on the plush window seat, dwarfed by the dual floor-to-ceiling windows. His features were alight with childlike wonder and the soft, winter sun, breath fogging the glass as he peered out of the pane, entranced by dancing flakes. Vlad’s eyes grew misty, recalling cold, damp clothes, laughter, and hot chocolate His shoulders softened a touch, mouth pulling upward fondly.

The reverie was broken by an uncomfortable burn in his forearms as the basket slipped slowly downwards under gravity’s influence, prompting him to readjust his hold and resume his search.

It was that time of year again; the relentless heatwave had broken at last. Residents of Amity Park gave a collective sigh of relief, enjoying cool days and brisk evenings just shy of uncomfortable as summer gave way to autumn. Full suits were no longer suffocating. And football season was in full swing.

In short, life couldn’t be better. There was something invigorating about the crisp, cool air that accompanied the changing seasons, putting Vlad in the rare mood to do some tidying. Housework was a small pleasure he had rediscovered recently; busy hands left the mind free for reflection, something that Vlad wasn’t as eager to avoid these days. The reason for this? Well…

“Daniel!” he called again, perplexed by the continued lack of response from his young charge. No, his son, he reminded himself, distracted for a moment by the thrill of excitement and anxiety that still shot through him at that thought. Against all odds, he was a father.

He savored the feeling as he searched, peeking around the corner to the living room on a whim, and bit back another call. Warm affection swelled in his chest at the rare and, admittedly, adorable sight.

His son, Daniel, was sprawled lengthwise across the couch, out like a light. Sleep had hit him hard and fast; the awkward position of his limbs was telling, and looked anything but comfortable.

A socked foot was braced on the floor while its twin was slung over the couch’s far arm, still trapped in a sneaker, laces tangled from an abandoned attempt at removal. One arm hung limply to the side, while the other was likely going numb, trapped against the back and beneath the Maddies, who were taking full advantage of their human’s compromised position.

The opportunistic felines were curled up on the half-ghost’s broad chest, passive-aggressively close to one another, soaking up the warmth. Like many cats, they managed to radiate smug bliss even from the depths of slumber, much to Vlad’s amusement.

He really couldn’t blame them. Naps for Daniel were a rare occurrence, after all; the boy rarely slowed down long enough.

But Vlad had almost forgotten what else autumn meant; school was once again in full swing. A ridiculous amount of coursework accompanied Daniel’s ambitious class load, pushing the limits of an already-taxing daily schedule.

In addition to coursework, he participated in several extracurricular activities, made time for friends, and dedicated himself to a rigorous training and tutoring regimen of Vlad’s own design. No wonder the boy was exhausted.

Not that he had so much as hinted at fatigue, eager to prove himself.

Vlad mentally shook his head, pride mixing with fond exasperation. He had, admittedly, forgotten just how difficult it was to be a teenager (though he thinks he can be excused for this oversight given that it’s been over twenty years since then; twenty long years). He vaguely recalled expectations to tackle a workload any self-respecting, paid employee would strike over.

Daniel, like many teenagers, did that and more with only a fraction of useable energy at his disposal at any given time, resources diverted to accommodate the emotional and physical stress the body underwent as it matured. Puberty had hit Daniel late and with a vengeance. The boy had been shooting up like a weed lately, the gap between his cuff and ankle widening at an alarming rate (not surprising given the state of the pantry at the end of any given week; the teen had to be burning through massive amounts of energy in the process).

As his coach, Vlad had noticed he was struggling physically; his center of balance shifted so rapidly he just couldn’t keep up. Daniel’s frustration was all but tangible at times, face heating with anger and humiliation when he fumbled through warm-ups and drills that had once been simple. Recently, more often than not, he left their practice sessions drained and irritable, shower doing little to dispel a dark mood that carried over into their evening lessons.

Vlad wondered if he was sleeping enough.

Judging from his current state alone, the poor boy needed all the rest he could get. Vlad quelled a rush of remorse for pushing him so hard, reminding himself that Daniel had set the pace.

Insisted, really. He was normally eager, almost desperate, to improve, diving into training with a single-minded intensity that rivaled Vlad’s own. Daniel had protested furiously when Vlad had suggested they take it a bit easier during the school year, pushing himself even harder.

Vlad chuckled fondly; Daniel was his son, after all. But perhaps he could persuade him to revise their schedule to an every other day kind of thing; in hindsight, it was a bit ambitious to have lessons and physical training on the same day…

Musing about schedules, he set the basket aside and approached, debating whether the merits of repositioning gangly limbs into a more comfortable position outweighed the risk of waking the boy.

No, better to let him rest. He was young, after all; he probably wouldn’t suffer from the stiff neck Vlad wouldn’t admit to getting if he slept at the demonstrated awkward though, admittedly, impressive angle. (His neck definitely did not twinge in sympathy. He wasn’t old.)

He settled for carefully prying off the remaining shoe before unfurling a fuzzy throw that hung over the back of the couch, settling it gently over long legs, careful not to disturb the felines. They, of course, would have no such qualms about waking Daniel in their subsequent bid for freedom should they be trapped beneath the heavy fabric.

His fond gaze migrated upward upon completion of his task, settling on Daniel’s face, relaxed in slumber. It was a rare treat to observe his son in such a peaceful state, and he was somewhat tempted to take a picture (too bad his camera was in his room).

Daniel looked so young this way. The man’s eyebrows bunched, oddly nostalgic as he took in the boy’s strengthening features, an early sign that he wouldn’t be one for much longer. Soon, soft lines would vanish completely, giving way to the strong jaw and defined cheeks that were already taking shape.

He would miss these days. Vlad felt an irrational surge of longing and loss, feeling absurdly cheated out of the early years, of a tiny Daniel smiling at him, of endless questions and childlike wonder (which was absolutely insane, considering he didn’t even like children. There was a reason he’d decided to create a teenaged clone). But if that was the case, Vlad supposed he wouldn’t be the Daniel he knew now. It was probably for the best.

He sighed, and ran a gentle hand through thick stripped locks, marveling at the silky softness as it slid through his fingers. It really was getting long, Vlad thought idly, scratching lightly across the scalp, delighted when the crease between Daniel’s eyes smoothed, and he sunk deeper into sleep with a content sigh.

Vlad lingered for a moment before withdrawing reluctantly, gathering up the basket again with a sigh of his own. A nap would do the boy good, he reminded himself, so he’d best leave Daniel to it.

Of course, this meant he was back to square one with the laundry. He was looking for Daniel in the first place to gather his dirty clothes so Vlad could start a load or two before dinner.

Well, perhaps he could still do that. He could always take a detour into the boy’s room himself. He was certain Daniel wouldn’t mind the intrusion; after all, he was simply retrieving laundry, so he wouldn’t be there long.

Decision made, he turned back, pausing to empty his basket in the laundry room before ascending the stairs once again to the wing that housed their personal quarters, hesitating for a moment before cracking open the door and entering Daniel’s room.

It was strange, being here without the room’s main occupant. He felt a bit like an intruder. The space was shockingly well-kempt for belonging to a teenager, not that he was surprised; Daniel was hardly your average teenager.

As expected, his dirty laundry was in the hamper, and Vlad wasted no time in sorting through it.

Something was off, though. Vlad lived with his son, so of course he noticed that Daniel had started sweater season as soon as he no longer ran the risk of suffering heat stroke. That meant there should be about two weeks’ worth of ripening knitwear, as none had been sent out recently. But there were none to be found in the hamper, and, despite the fibers’ natural resistance to sweat and grime, it was certainly time for a wash.

Most, if not all, of Daniel’s sweaters were handmade, knitted by Vlad himself, so required special care. He supposed Daniel could be keeping such garments separate in a display of caution. Conscientious, as always.

Not that it was necessary; Vlad only hired the best, and, of course, always ran a brief inspection of the sorted garments before they were taken to the proper cleaning facilities. Details meant everything in his line of work, and his appearance was one of many he monitored personally. Sure, he was a billionaire, and could afford purchase a new wardrobe any time he wished, but it hadn’t always been this way. He was taught to take pride in his possessions, and waste was unthinkable; far be it for him to neglect his roots.

Shaking himself out of his musings (he certainly was distracted today), he got back to the task at hand; finding the sweaters. He supposed he could simply wait and ask Daniel during their evening session, but leaving the job half-done would bother him.

Vlad was a completionist to a fault, and knew that if he put this off, he ran the risk of losing his productive mood. Not to mention the thought of the laundry sitting half-finished would torture him all evening; it would have been better to have not started at all. And he wouldn’t wake the boy. But this also toed the line of invasion of privacy.

He weighed his options, and decided that a taking a brief look couldn’t hurt; he was already here, after all. In such a neat space, there weren’t exactly an abundance of hiding places.

He checked the walk-in closet first. A thorough search left him baffled by the complete lack of sweaters, dirty or otherwise. He had checked the drawers (meticulously folded), hangers (formal wear was sorted by degree of formality then color), and even the floor (his shoes were lined up so perfectly he put showrooms to shame).

Daniel clearly treasured his possessions, and Vlad felt a rush of pride. His son kept his space in perfect order, and everything had a logical place. Except for the sweaters, it would seem. Which didn’t make any sense.

His frustration grew as he continued to pace the room and failed to find a single one. He was running out of ideas, and was uncomfortable at the thought of exploring much further. On a whim, he ducked his head under the bed, admittedly feeling a bit foolish; this was one of the oldest clichés in the book.

But his eyes were immediately drawn to a large cedar chest, a copy of the one he himself used for keepsakes. He had forgotten the boy had one as well; Daniel had been delighted with the gift, especially when Vlad had shown him the contents of its twin in his private study.

Vlad slid the heavy container out, running a hand across the sanded, weighty lid, hesitating for only a moment before giving in to his curiosity and lifting it before he could change his mind.

Sure enough, here were Daniel’s sweaters. He let out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. Mystery solved. The quantity bordered on insane, way more than he remembered making, Vlad observed somewhat sheepishly. What could he say? He was a stress knitter.

But he was particularly fascinated with the way the garments were packed. Despite the large quantity, each sweater was folded with a degree of precision that spoke wordless volumes of care. Handmade garments often had quirks; small flaws that made each piece unique, making it nearly impossible to pack them away neatly. Daniel had somehow managed it by treating each sweater as an individual, modifying his folding technique slightly to ensure optimal fit. Even the dirty ones were carefully folded, and placed on the smaller, right-hand side of the central divider. It made his closet look sloppy in comparison.

Reluctant to ruin what was clearly several hours of work, Vlad carefully flipped through layers of sweaters, separated with tissue paper, the garments growing smaller as he descended. He was sure most of these didn’t have a hope of fitting Daniel any longer.

One stood out from the others, though. It rested at the very bottom of the heavy chest, and was individually wrapped, obscured by many layers of delicate tissue and tied loosely with string. This deviation from the established system sparked Vlad’s curiosity further, overriding common sense, and before he knew it, he was carefully removing the wrappings.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t this.

He drew in a sharp breath, unnerved, and delicately traced the ragged edge of a black-rimmed tear with shaking fingers, transfixed. It extended downward from right shoulder to sternum in a great slice, like it had been severed with a hot knife.

Bafflingly, someone had also gone to great lengths to attempt repair; the edges were joined with neat, if pointless, stitches. Only the lack of patching material revealed that this was a rush job. Admirable effort, but an exercise in futility nonetheless; nothing could hope to fix the charred edges.

The garment was utterly ruined. No wonder Daniel kept this one covered so well; it likely brought back unpleasant memories, but the boy clearly didn’t have the heart to get rid of it.

Upon closer inspection, Vlad realized he recognized this sweater. The vague unease grew into a feeling far more unpleasant.

It was the first one he’d ever made for Daniel, not that he’d known that at the time. It had been started with his own dimensions in mind, but modified on a whim; gold and green, stitched together with hands bathed in the eerie green glow of the incubation chamber.

He had been a different person then, twisted by hatred and blinded by his obsession with the Fentons.

Each stitch had been formed in bitter anger, to keep him grounded, patient. Clicking needles helped to cover up the maddening hiss of the central air system and the relentless beep of monitoring equipment.

He knew at his core that this would be the last plot, his last attempt to take what was rightfully his; should he fail yet again, the fallout would be devastating. He would be unable to stop himself from giving up, from descending irrevocably into madness. Because at the end of the day, hate was all he had, his only constant along with his pride. But hatred took energy, and he was tired. So tired.

Lips curled in disgust as he ran the clumsily-constructed fabric sitting in his lap through his fingers, reliving the turmoil through the record of amateurish mistakes that littered the garment. Each pucker and twist, invisible to the untrained eye, glared at him accusingly, reminding him of sins he could never atone for. Made him sick with guilt as they whispered to him, reminded him of a time when Daniel had been merely an “it” and “the clone,” a tool he had every intention to use for revenge.

He was practically living in the dim, sterile, underground room, on standby to respond in a moment should the clone destabilize again. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept in his own bed (he kept a cot down here), gotten more than two consecutive hours of sleep, or eaten something more substantial than the occasional protein bar. He carefully refrained from imagining the state of the companies he was neglecting.

But this stage of the project was too unpredictable to leave unattended, the clone’s outline in the cloudy fluid filling the tube bobbing peacefully up and down, blissfully unaware that its existence could end in an instant. But he wouldn’t let that happen. He would have his prize. With a completely obedient half ghost by his side, he would rule. He had taken no chances, had combined a stolen sample of the Fenton boy’s DNA with his own. It was his ultimate weapon. No one would be able to stop him. No one could keep him from his rightful place.

But throughout human history, it is in moments like these that astounding things can happen. Picture a person building a perfect pyramid, finally reaching the absolute top, standing on that tiny, sharp pinnacle, at the very highest they can go.

It is when we are at this peak, feel the most unstoppable, have the firmest foundation, are the most confident in our convictions, that the smallest breeze can topple us over and force us to rethink the foundations of our self-constructed realities as we fall, force us to shift our reality; rebuild, or cease to exist.

It is the small things that shake us to the core, that have the power to change us forever.

Be it stroke of luck, fate, divine intervention or pure coincidence, one such moment occurred in that sterile lab when a rare set of circumstances coincided. The fluid ensconcing the clone ran clear for several minutes, reflex prompted new eyes to flutter open, and Vlad happened to look up.

And looked into a familiar set of blue eyes that he hadn’t seen anywhere other than a mirror since his mother had passed away all those years ago (he had searched for her desperately after he learned the nature of his transformation, to no avail). They may have been obscured by fluid, but the shape and shade were unmistakable; they were her eyes. His eyes. Staring unseeingly back at him.

It was…disturbing, to say the least. Blame it on sleep deprivation if you will, but he felt his mother’s eyes cut right through him, accusingly, judging him for his behavior in her absence. Forcing himself to do something he had done his very best to avoid, in a way only she ever could.

So Vlad Masters took an honest look at himself for the first time in several decades.

And he wept, because he knew that she didn’t like what she saw, was disappointed in him. He had known this, on some level; it was why he had been putting off this realization for years. But, he was surprised to find that she wasn’t disappointed he had fallen so far; no, because she knew and he knew now, too, that he had fallen. Which meant that he was capable of picking himself back up and hadn’t. He had chosen not to, had chosen temporary comfort over the harder but healthier path. But he could do better. He would do better. If not for her than for himself.

And on that paradigm shift, he rebuilt his world. The eyes closed.

And Vlad, with fresh eyes, truly looked into the face of the being he created for the first time. But dread overtook him when he realized he wasn’t seeing the face of a clone. No, instead, he was looking into the face of a child.

It took him back to the first time he had met young Daniel at the college reunion, blindsided by an irrational rush of paternal pride and unspeakable longing to get to know this boy, realizing that he wasn’t, didn’t have to be alone anymore. (How wrong he was).

That familiar, fierce longing again surged to the surface, become part of his world once again. A desire he had buried long ago when the hopelessness simply became too much to bear.

All he had ever wanted was someone to love.

He thanked everything he could think of that he hadn’t started the programming, that is, the brainwashing, yet. And he wouldn’t. He’d keep the basic learning protocols, so the boy could communicate, have basic knowledge about the world, but nothing else. If he wanted a son, he’d earn his trust and affection the old-fashioned way. The right way.

But he was forgetting something. New hope warred with sick dread. But why? What threatened his happiness now? Because this being he created wasn’t a tool, this was a child. His child. So still. So fragile.

The realization opened the floodgates, and he fought to keep the rush of panic at bay. What had he done!?

Once again, in a display of arrogance and ignorance, he had put someone at risk. He already cared too much about the boy, was once again on the verge of losing everything. Because the child, Daniel, was dangerously unstable. He could die.

Vlad couldn’t let that happen.

For the first time in years, he was truly terrified of the consequences of failure. Because he wasn’t used to consequences. In an instant, the project had evolved into a horrible tightrope walk between life and death. He hoped the anxiety wouldn’t kill him first.

It was touch and go for a small eternity. Vlad lost sleep, hair, and his lunch to far more close calls than he cared to recall. He was certain he aged about twenty years that month, trapped in a micro-hell of his own design; he still had nightmares about that innocent face devolving into ectoplasm, but awake, screaming in agony from the confines of the tube at a pitch that made his hair stand on end…

Vlad mentally shook himself. No. He thought about this quite enough at night, no sense in dwelling on it during waking hours as well.

Preoccupied with the stressful task of keeping Daniel alive, sleeping in the lab even after the boy had stabilized out of sheer paranoia, he realized he was woefully unprepared to care for a child; embarrassingly so. He panicked when Daniel emerged from the tube, realizing he hadn’t given a thought about basic needs. Like clothing, for example.

His “newborn” was freezing; his small frame shook uncontrollably in the thin sterile gown as he was propped upright on a cot so Vlad could monitor his vitals, a pile of medical blankets doing little to combat the chill. The boy was in tears; uncomfortable and confused, agoraphobic and overwhelmed by this strange new world, so Vlad had grabbed the completed sweater instinctively and helped the boy into it, hoping the warm weight would ground him, rambling about inconsequential things to distract from the alarming machines as he worked to reattach feeds and wires.

He cringed; in hindsight, he had risked further overstimulation that way, and the outcome could have been disastrous. His palms still grew slick with cold sweat, and his blood pressure skyrocketed whenever he thought about everything that could have gone wrong, all the mistakes he had made in those early days. He cursed his stupidity.

Vlad shook off his self-disgust in favor of gathering up the old sweaters, having forgotten his original task, otherwise occupied with the chaos of his memories. They didn’t fit Daniel any longer, so there really wasn’t any sense in keeping them.

It was embarrassing how amateurish they looked now. They were an unwelcome reminder of a time when he was at an absolute low. He just wanted them gone. Especially that first one. The marred fabric seemed to mock him. Yes, better to dispose of it, and bury the anxiety and fear that came with it.

He gathered his legs under him with mild difficulty, surprised to discover he was a bit stiff—he had been kneeling on the floor longer than he thought—and glanced up at the doorway.

Only to lock eyes with Daniel, who stood, gaping, in the doorway, hand frozen in an abandoned attempt to straighten tousled locks. Tension radiated from his too-still frame, and wide eyes flickered from confusion to shock to panic.

Vlad froze as well, uneasy; he had never seen this look in the boy’s eyes before, and never cared to again. Sick dread pooled heavily in his stomach as all other thoughts evaporated; he knew without a doubt that something was very wrong.

“Dad,” Daniel whispered, hand dropping abruptly. “What are you doing with those?”

His gaze lowered, fixed on the pile of sweaters in Vlad’s arms. Vlad looked down as well, and blinked, bemused by the sudden lack of sweaters there.

Daniel hugged the garments to his chest tenderly, like a young child would cuddle a favorite stuffed toy for reassurance after a scare. In moments like these, Vlad was reminded of how new to the world the boy really was; it was too easy to forget when he wore the skin of a teenager.

A familiar, irrational stab of loss joined the budding guilt and self-loathing; that strange yearning for early years that never occurred.

Nostalgia must be a theme today, he thought idly.

Reason returned as he watched Daniel drop carefully to his knees a deliberate distance away to begin refolding the stack. Vlad’s inquisitive and concerned gaze was studiously avoided as the boy focused entirely on the task at hand.

Careful hands guided handmade fabric into precise creases reverently, deep blue eyes gleaming with a look of concentration so intense, it might have been comical under different circumstances. If he didn’t recognize the carefully constructed front for what it was.

Upset was an understatement; and despite an admirable effort, Daniel was unable to conceal the slight tremble that made his hands clumsy and slow, an obvious tell that only intensified the harder he tried to hide it.

Overall, he gave the impression of one who had survived a close shave. As the shock slowly abated, Vlad’s mental alarm bells became more insistent. This reaction was a bit extreme, even for someone experiencing the emotional fragility that was part and parcel of an unplanned nap. Something wasn’t quite right; he was missing some crucial detail.

“Daniel, what…” Vlad trailed off, at a loss, hands reaching toward the boy helplessly, then falling short, uncertain. “What did I—”

“You were going to get rid of them, weren’t you.”

It wasn’t a question. The words were tight, clipped. His eyes remained fixed studiously downward, even though it was obvious that he wasn’t truly looking at the abandoned sweater in front of him, fists clenched in an a futile attempt to suppress trembling fingers.

Daniel abruptly rocked back on his heels and wiped roughly at his face, shattering the invisible barrier between them, allowing Vlad to finally take action. He scrambled in his haste to close the gap.

He gathered the boy clumsily into his arms, and Daniel practically melted into the firm embrace before returning it fiercely, clinging to him in turn. A striped head filled his peripheral vision, resting its comfortable weight on his shoulder, and soaked the light fabric covering it in warm wetness.

It was unclear how long they remained that way, respecting an unspoken agreement to set aside the circumstances for awhile in favor of comforting another; indulging in the unique security that came from holding a kindred spirit close.

After a while, Daniel pulled away reluctantly, sniffling wetly and wiping halfheartedly at his nose. Vlad produced a fresh handkerchief and settled into a cross-legged position, facing the teen, waiting patiently for him to collect himself while he gathered his own thoughts.

“I apologize, Daniel,” he began, slowly, when the sniffles had eased, and the boy settled into a similar position, rolling edges of soft fabric anxiously between his fingers as he met Vlad’s gaze.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I know that I am at fault here, but I do admit that I’m not entirely sure what exactly I did to cause you this much distress. Regardless, I should not have been in your room or searched through your things without your express permission. I knew better, but I did it anyway. I invaded your privacy, and for that, I am sorry.”

Daniel maintained eye contact, reddened and puffy appearance doing nothing to diminish the sincerity evident in their depths.

“I forgive you.”

There was no hesitation. The honest declaration mowed through Vlad’s emotional barriers, and his vision blurred as identical blue eyes prickled with tears of their own.

He bit his lip. His mistakes had long entrapped him, clinging fast and weighing him down. Experience taught him that, once made, he would never be rid of them. This knowledge, this fear, were iron shackles. It was his curse. But this boy…

Never before had he known such forgiveness.

Daniel absolutely hated to see his dad cry. There was just something fundamentally wrong about seeing someone you cared about in distress. So he was quick to reassure, hoping to fend off the flood and the inevitable interrogation.

“There’s really no harm done. They’re all here, they’re safe.”

Honestly, this assurance was just as much for himself. Of course, he would have forgiven Vlad regardless of the outcome; his dad was way more important to him than keepsakes, but this had come completely out of left field.

He had always been so careful, and seeing his collection spread across the floor had been the last thing he had expected after trudging upstairs to finish his homework before training, cursing himself bitterly for falling asleep.

He had really only meant to rest his eyes for a second or two, having gone distractingly cross-eyed while undoing his laces, falling instead into the deep kind of sleep that left one feeling fuzzy-headed and irritable upon waking instead of rested.

Daniel looked over at his favorite sweater, the one he had taken the most care to preserve. As always, fury at the damage was tempered with fond warmth. He flushed lightly, briefly recalling the circumstances of its repair.

His dad, who had since pulled himself together, followed his line of sight, brows drawing together in confusion, focused on the blackened article.

“Why keep these? Most are much too small, and this one,” he pulled the garment closer, “is damaged beyond repair.”

Daniel’s hands twitched instinctively, ready to come to the rescue at any moment.

Honestly? The thought of getting rid of them had never even crossed his mind, so he hadn’t. And he felt much too strongly about the garments to ever consider it.

But his dad was looking at him expectantly, obviously waiting for an answer. He had no idea how to put his jumbled thoughts and feelings on the matter into words, so he called upon the time-tested art of stalling.

“But you made them for me,” he settled on a basic truth, trying to buy a bit of time as he scrambled, struggling to string his thoughts into a pattern his dad would accept.

“I can make more, you know,” Vlad pointed out reasonably. “There’s no sense holding on to something that’s outlived its usefulness. At this point, they’re just clutter—”

“They’re important to me!” Daniel snapped, and Vlad blanched, drawing back in shock.

Daniel’s eyes widened, immediately regretting his outburst.

He didn’t mean to yell at his father! But that statement hit distressingly close to home. It was like Vlad wasn’t talking about the sweaters at all. For a moment, his nightmares were playing out before his eyes…

He forcefully shoved his insecurities to the back of his mind in favor of running damage control; he had hurt his dad, and he looked on guiltily as his father struggled to school his features into a neutral position.

“I’m sorry, Dad!” Daniel rushed to explain, mentally kicking himself for his tone.

“I would never get rid of these. I just can’t. You spent so much time on them, and it makes me feel cared for, kind of important, you know?”

He traced the hem of the special one, eyes softening as his face heated up, but he was determined to get this out before he could talk himself out of it. “Not to mention they’re basically portable hugs. You’re with me all day this way.”

He hadn’t exactly wanted to give quite that much away. But if he had to choose between his pride and his dad, his dad would win every time. It was the truth, after all, and he knew he had made the right choice when his dad’s eyes softened, and he was swallowed in his embrace once again.

Daniel had learned a long time ago that his father’s hugs went beyond the physical; they were part of an extensive nonverbal language, expressing what words simply could not.

Because he maintained a stern public image, a necessity in his line of work, most people didn’t realize that his father was a very emotional man. Daniel had seen how often he was misunderstood and slighted by his peers (to Daniel’s fury) because they never experienced this.

For someone who claimed to have little experience in the area of affection, he sure didn’t act like it. Daniel still had no idea how he managed it, how exactly he coordinated the variations of timing and pressure into such clear but complex expressions. This time, Vlad was conveying relief, awe, gratitude, and as always, more than anything, love.

The guilt intensified, sitting heavy and low in his stomach. He didn’t deserve this. He’s such a hypocrite, furious when others fail to appreciate his father, but hasn’t he done the same thing? Vlad cared so much, almost too much, about other people; he would do anything for the ones he loved, for Daniel. Anything. And yet, Daniel was upset because he had tried to declutter.

Of course, Daniel is fully aware that this isn’t exactly the reason he’s upset, but he’s very careful to avoid the thought. Now is not the time to think about this. It’s much easier to tell himself he’s simply sentimental. Nothing else.

Vlad’s grip tightens almost imperceptibly, seeking reassurance, and Daniel pushed aside the painful train of thought, eager to provide it.

He returned the embrace fiercely; he loves his dad more than anything, and he was determined to convey this. He knows he can’t hold a candle to Vlad’s raw skill in this area, but that doesn’t stop him from trying.

He must have succeeded to some degree, because he feels his dad relax a bit. Daniel sighed, settling his head once again onto a broad shoulder, still a bit damp from earlier, and takes the opportunity to burn this moment into his memory, to add it to his collection.

He savored the slight tickle of grey locks on his upper check, sprung loose from their ties; the pleasant burn of cologne mixed with a scent that was simply Vlad drying his sinuses and coating the back of his tongue; the unnatural heat radiating through his silky shirt, warm and comfortable. For a small eternity, he knows nothing but safety, comfort, and love, and basks in the feeling.

They eventually break apart and, once again, take a moment to collect themselves before Vlad looks again to Daniel’s favorite sweater.

“What happened?” he ventured, concerned by the implication that someone had attacked his son in human form (and rightfully so), but reluctant to upset Daniel further.

Daniel gathered it up with a sigh, reluctant to delve into complicated memories again. He began to refold the garment, grateful for the excuse to avoid eye contact as he, fumbled for an answer that would satisfy his father, struck with an annoying sense of déjà vu.

“I took care of it. Doesn’t exactly fix this, though.”

Vlad sighed; he knew that truth all too well.

They kneeled there awkwardly for a moment, neither entirely what to do, caught in that strange limbo that followed any major argument; that period where you tell yourself everything’s okay now, but you know deep down that it’s a lie. Because the cycle of injury, apology, and forgiveness isn’t some magic fix, and no relationship pops back to how it was before even though the issue has been resolved. Things weren’t really okay yet, and they probably wouldn’t be for a little while.

Honestly, the invasion of privacy didn’t sting nearly as much as his own insecurities; he’d move on. But would Vlad?

Daniel glanced surreptitiously his father. Vlad was an expert at the practiced neutral face, but Daniel knew better; his poor father would be beating himself up about this for days.

Sure, he was still a bit shaken, but nothing had happened. Vlad was just too hard on himself. He had been a mess for weeks that time he had broken Daniel’s nose after opening a door too quickly, despite the fact it had healed without a scare in a matter of days. He had hated the way his father had tiptoed around him, hated that tortured look in his eyes as the incident no doubt looped in his mind, on repeat; over and over again.

If only there was a way to reassure his dad that he still had Daniel’s trust, a way to break through his uncertainly. He played with a loose hem pensively, cursing the circumstances that had led Vlad to rummage through his sweater box in the first place…

Sweaters. It was so obvious.

He gathered up the unwearable sweaters into a neat pile again. He was embarrassed by how reluctant he was to go through with this, but if he had to choose between his dad’s happiness and sweaters that didn’t even fit anymore, well…

There really wasn’t a choice at all.

He got to his feet, and hefted the pile (there really were a lot of them), depositing them in his father’s arms. He smiled wryly as his dad looked down at the pile, bewildered, before raising his gaze and quirking an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Take them.”

Vlad blinked, lips parted slightly to respond, before they shut again. He glanced to the side, brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to reconcile the large volume of mixed messages he had received that afternoon.

“What?” he asked, settling on the explanation that, somehow, he had simply misheard.

“Take them.” Daniel maintained firm eye contact, staring into blue pools identical to his own. “You were right, they don’t even fit me anymore.”

“But, Daniel, those are yours,” Vlad sputtered, intelligently.

Daniel smiled softly.

“They were. But now I want you to have them.”

Vlad looked helplessly at the pile, as if it held the answer to the puzzle that was currently throwing him for a loop.

“But why, Daniel? You told me you love those sweaters.”

He left his father on the floor and walked to the door, grabbing his backpack on the way. He’d do some homework at the kitchen table for a while, give his dad some time alone to process. He paused in the doorway, a melancholy smile pulling at his lips as he gave his answer over his shoulder.

“I do. But I love you more.”

><><

This particular project normally would have taken months; Vlad had it done in one. But not because he had rushed; no, he made absolutely certain it was perfect. Nothing less for Daniel. He didn’t sleep much anyways.

Daniel’s demonstration had the intended effect; knowing he still had his son’s trust even after his mistake meant the world to him.

It had been a shock, at first. He hadn’t known what to think when the boy handed his treasured pile of clothing over with barely an explanation. It had been more difficult than he’d like to admit, allowing his son to walk away after sharing such a sentiment, leaving him on the floor to collect his thoughts. But after the shock (finally) wore off, the implications of the gesture warmed him to the core.

(He also was trying his best not to dwell on the implication that someone attacked Daniel. His son. In human form, no less. Because if he thought about that for too long, it took him to a dark place. He trusted Daniel. He did. But surely it hadn’t been out of line to investigate the incident himself, not that he found anything, to his frustration.)

By the time training had begun that evening, Daniel appeared to have forgotten all about the incident. To the untrained eye, that is. Vlad had to give credit where credit was due; he had admirable focus during training and finished all his homework, but he’d caught a glimpse of him with the cedar chest out again later that evening on his way to bed; reorganizing.

Vlad truly had no idea the boy was so fond of the sweaters. He could have kicked himself. He thought he knew his son so well; how had he missed something so important to him? Sure, he always beamed and hugged him whenever Vlad presented him with a new one (which may have contributed to the vast number now that he thinks about it, hmm…) but then again, Daniel always thanked him for gifts, equally delighted be it a motorbike or a new toothbrush.

In hindsight, though, the favoritism for knitwear was obvious, in the way his eyes would light up just that much brighter, how he’d wear it the very next day. And his words…

They’re basically portable hugs. You’re with me all day this way.

He had replayed this exchange countless times over the past month, the warmth in his chest just as strong as day one. Never before had he known such happiness. Such love.

His eyes prickled a bit. It was strange kind of responsibility, to have such a significant role in the happiness of someone else. He both cherished and feared it in equal measure, terrified he would wake up one day, and he’d realize he’d imagined this whole thing. Or worse, that he would drive Daniel away himself one day, just like every other important person in his life. He’d be alone again.

For years, he chased a mirage of this feeling, feeding his obsession with a woman who would never return his affections, and later, her son. At some point, he had given up, resigned himself to a lifetime of loneliness and swore revenge instead. He had cursed his failures, then.

Now, he thanked whatever power was responsible for those failures; any “victory” he may have achieved during that time, which now felt like lifetimes ago, would have been a mockery of the affection he craved, a mere taste that would have eventually driven him mad with longing. Daniel had freely given him what he’d never dreamed could exist. And it meant the world to him.

He didn’t deserve Daniel. But for some unknown reason, he had decided to stay. He was the first person who had chosen Vlad above all others, and Vlad longed to show him how much he meant to him.

He would continue to make the boy sweaters. Socks. Hats. Scarves. Heck, he’d learn how to sew properly and make all his clothes, if it meant this much to him. But one step at a time.

On that note, Vlad put the finishing touches on the piece, feeling the strange mixture of melancholy and satisfaction he experienced whenever he completed a long-term project.

And to his delight, it turned out much better than he had hoped. He had conducted extensive research regarding design and technique; it was pretty far out of his comfort zone, and he only had one chance to get it right. But it was worth it. Anything for Daniel.

He took a moment to appreciate the fruits of his labor before packing it away with the utmost care.

Everything had to be perfect.

><><

Something was up. Daniel’s eyes narrowed as he watched his dad make breakfast. The change was subtle. Only someone who saw the man on a daily basis would notice the difference; he was almost twitchy, movements sharp and almost harried as he fixed Daniel’s plate.

His Dad placed the food in front of him with a quiet “good morning” and a tired smile. Daniel noted the bruises under his eyes were darker than usual. Daniel thanked him before focusing on his plate, inhaling sharply at its contents.

Pancakes. In fun shapes.

Oh no. It was worse than he thought.

He kept stealing glances at his dad as he ate, watched him worry at the handle of his coffee mug and pick at his own pancakes. Daniel hated to leave him like this, but really, there wasn’t anything to be done when Vlad was in one of these moods. And his dad wouldn’t want him to miss school.

If he lingered a bit during his goodbye hug, his dad didn’t comment. Just bid him to have a good day, like usual.

Daniel tried to go about his day as he normally did, but was unable to shake the concern for his father. They texted as per their habit during his lunch break, in between laughing with his friends, but Vlad seemed a bit…distracted, he supposed.

(His friends could have told him that Vlad wasn’t the only one, but, like all good friends, they didn’t comment, opting instead to respect his privacy, confident that he would talk when and if he wanted to.)

Needless to say, Daniel wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when he crossed the Masters’ threshold that afternoon, hanging his jacket on the rack and shouldering his backpack, anxious to check on his father.

“Dad, I’m home!”

No answer.

He deposited his keys in the dish, and moved through the entryway, calling twice more, trying not to worry when he was met with silence.

While uncommon, it wasn’t unheard of for Daniel to get home before Vlad. But with the mood his dad was in that day, he was on edge. Normally, he would text Daniel when he was working late.

Daniel sighed, running his fingers lightly along the wall of pictures as he made his way down the hall and up the staircase, deciding to distract himself with a bit of schoolwork while he waited for his dad to get back. He hoped he was alright.

Daniel deposited his backpack beside his desk, taking a moment to kick off his shoes before pulling out his phone to text his dad, making his way over to sit on his bed, glancing up to check the height (his muscle memory wasn’t the most reliable these days; he was running into furniture and walls so often that his dad often joked about childproofing) only to stop short. There was already something sitting there.

It was a box of medium size, just short of being too large to hold comfortably with two hands, wrapped simply but neatly in white paper. Resting on top was a light green envelope, with his name inked in gold in a familiar hand.

He furrowed his brows, perplexed, and set aside his phone to pick up the envelope. Unless he was very much mistaken, this was a present from his dad. Strange.

Not that surprise presents were an unusual occurrence; on the contrary, his dad loved giving him gifts, much more than Daniel enjoyed receiving them. The quantity had been truly ridiculous at first. It took a while for him to convince his father to relax, admitting that while he appreciated the thought and attention, he felt guilty that he was unable to reciprocate. So they had compromised, agreeing to save gifting for special occasions.

Of course, Vlad pushed the boundaries of this rule, but it made him so happy to do nice things for Daniel that the teenager didn’t have the heart to call him out. As long as he didn’t go overboard, Daniel had decided he could live with the occasional surprise.

He picked at the flap of the heavy paper envelope.

But, unlike any other time his dad gave him a gift, he wasn’t here. Daniel knew from experience that the real fun of gift-giving came from watching the recipient’s reaction.

And his dad’s absence was clearly intentional. Vlad was a master of presentation; the private location combined with the open and inviting position of the box and envelope was not coincidental. Not to mention his unusual absence from the house at large. And no audience meant no pressure, no need to control his reactions with the feelings of other in mind, free to be himself.

Which meant it was a gift intended for Daniel and Daniel alone. He was touched. And intrigued.

He finally managed to get a thumb under the tight seal, prying the glue apart slowly, careful to leave the envelope intact. He pulled out a sheet of simple off-white stationary, revealing a message in his father’s distinctive hand.

Daniel chuckled a bit; for someone so detail-oriented, his handwriting was atrocious. He sat down, and began to read.

Dear Daniel,

I apologize for violating your privacy and your trust about a month ago. I have no excuse. I allowed my curiosity to overrule my common sense and overstepped your boundaries. Worse, I used this knowledge to impose my will when it was neither wanted nor necessary, failing to respect your space, and by extension, you. I am sorry, Daniel, for this, and any similar past missteps that I failed to recognize.

I cannot promise you that something similar will not happen again; I promise to try my best, but as much as I pretend otherwise, truly, I have no idea what I’m doing. You are the first person I have shared a space with in over twenty years, and those past examples did not end well. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, I successfully drove away everyone close to me. I hurt people. I’d like to think that I’m a bit wiser now, but I know that’s not entirely true.

To be completely honest, I’m terrified, Daniel. You are my only son. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt you as well. And I did hurt you, that day. Others have left for far less.

Imagine my surprise when you forgave me so easily. I simply couldn’t believe that it could be that easy. You know that I trust you, Daniel, but you have to understand that years of evidence to the contrary are not so easily ignored.

And then you decided to prove that there were no hard feelings; you gave the subject of my betrayal back to me, as a sign of good faith. Your prized possessions. Given freely.

I suspect you don’t have any idea clue how truly special you are. So selfless, so kind. If I hadn’t had such an involved role in your creation, I never would have believed that you were my child.

So thank you, Daniel. Thank you for being you.

Daniel blinked back tears, taken aback by the forthright nature of the letter. It was just so honest, so Vlad that he wasn’t sure if he should shake his head or cry. Honestly, he was a bit disappointed; he had thought that his show of trust with the old sweaters had been enough to assure him of Daniel’s sincerity, and relieve him of guilt.

He loved the man, but it killed him how stubborn he could be. He didn’t need to apologize again; Daniel had been tired that day, and overreacted, reading farther into the situation than he should have. They were just a bunch of old sweaters. This was his dad. Why couldn’t his dad see that?

He decided to move on, rubbing at his eyes, unable to suppress a snort at the next line:

Now, because I know you, I’m certain that unlike every other teenager in existence, you read the card first. So do me a favor, please; open up the box before you read the rest.

He shook his head. No one knew him like his dad. He’d worry about the implications of his predictability later.

For now, he took the box into his lap; it had heft, but wasn’t heavy, per se. He turned the package over, searching for the seams, and methodically pried tape away from the wrappings, careful not to tear the paper, savoring the anticipation.

He set the paper aside, and grasped the lid of the oversized white cardboard clothing box, prying it away from the bottom half, and brushed aside green and yellow tissue paper. His hands began to shake.

He was greeted with something familiar, yet new. He traced the old knit pattern, yarn soft from wear, but freshly laundered. He tried a couple of times to lift the bulky block of fabric from the box, but it was packed tight, and he was unable to find purchase. So he gave up and turned the box over onto the sheets instead, then unfolded its contents, eager to see the piece in its entirety. He gaped.

They were all here. All of his old sweaters, the ones that he had given to Vlad that day. The ones that he reluctantly put aside one by one when he could no longer slip into their warm embrace. He had mourned the loss of the memories that went with each one, resigned to enjoy them as mere keepsakes.

He didn’t regret giving them to his dad, but he had missed them.

Here they were, but not as they were; the torsos had been divested of the sleeves and divided in half down the sides, former front and back forming large patches that were sewn methodically onto an oversized sheet of ultra-soft fabric. Parts of the sleeves had been repurposed into artful borders to separate individual sweaters. The construction had been stuffed lightly, and formed a type of quilt.

Overall, the effect was stunning, striking a perfect balance between respect for the past and celebration of a new era.

As far as he could tell, every salvageable part of his collection had a place.

In the middle, framed like a piece of art, was the front of his favorite sweater. His first one, complete with mar and repair job. He traced his friend’s handiwork reverently, taking a moment to reflect before taking action.

He arranged the quilt on top of his comforter, admiring the personal touch it brought to his space. He itched to burrow under it immediately, but he knew better; there was no way he’d be able to avoid falling asleep right now if he was that warm.

It was, without question, the most thoughtful gift he had ever received. So much time and care had been poured into this. He had no idea how his dad had managed to organize the diverse collection into the aesthetically-pleasing and functional piece of art resting on his bed. He felt a rush of concern for his dad. When had he found time to sleep this month?

With a jolt, Daniel remembered that he still had half a letter to read.

He bit his bottom lip, conflicted, and decided to take a calculated risk; he burrowed socked feet under the quilt and shimmied down to his hips, sighing in delight. The warm weight was unbelievably comfortable, and his feeling of nostalgia only intensified with contact. He had missed this. His dad’s voice colored the rest of the text.

Life is full of change. I often did my best to resist it, believing it could bring only pain. You have taught me that this isn’t always the case. Change can bring pain, but it often brings benefits as well. Especially when it brings about growth.

Take your sweaters for example. You were, and still are, incredibly fond of them, despite the fit becoming uncomfortable as you outgrew them. To continue to grow unhindered, you had to take the small sweaters off.

You’ll continue to grow in many different ways. I look forward to seeing who you will become.

But you will find that you will outgrow more than old sweaters in the course of your life. Mindsets, routines, places. At some point, you’ll realize that they’re no longer as comfortable as you remember, but moving on can be hard.

When you reach the point of no return, Daniel, you must promise me you won’t linger. Trying to fit into that “old sweater” again, as tempting as it is, will only bring you pain.

I regret to say I speak from experience. I was stuck, for many years, trying to fit into my own “sweater,” denying the restriction because it was all I had. I was stuck, longing to change my circumstances, but unwilling to release my hold on the “then” and embrace the “now.”

It was painful, to say the least. I wallowed in anger for years, refusing to share blame, placing it fully on the shoulders of my friends, pushing them away. Then I wondered why I was always unhappy and alone, with only my dark thoughts to keep me company.

I was still that person when you came along. No hope, intent on using you as a tool for revenge and conquest. But you were greater than I ever dreamed, far more than I could ever hope: A person. My son.

It terrified me; you were too good for this world, too good for me. And I was ashamed, thought myself unworthy to be your father, terrified I’d ruin you. That I’d fail you.

Please don’t make my mistakes. Make your own. Grow. Live.

Let this quilt remind you that it’s okay to remember the past, but not to dwell on it. With some imagination, your memories can grow with you. The past has its place, but life can only continue when you let go.

You taught me this, Daniel. Let me return the favor.

And no matter what else in your life may change, you can rest easy with the knowledge that I will always be here for you, for as long as you’ll have me.

I am so proud of you, son. I can’t wait to see what kind of man you’ll become.

I love you.

-Vlad

An ugly mix of tears and snot streamed unchecked down Daniel’s face, dripping off his chin onto his shirt, arms carefully outstretched to preserve the letter.

Sure, parts were a bit embarrassing. And sad. But while his dad expressed his love often enough verbally, it was a different experience altogether see it in writing. It felt more authentic, somehow. Perhaps it was the deliberation that was required to record such a sentiment on paper; completely separate from the heat of the moment. Sincere.

Today had been a roller coaster of emotion, from pancakes to quilts; he was exhausted.

When he first slid under the blanket, he had thought he’d never want to get up, reminded of his dad’s embrace. But now, he found himself longing for nothing less than the real thing, confident he knew where his dad had been hiding under the circumstances.

In his haste, he elected to phase out from under the quilt, pausing only to set the letter carefully on his desk before phasing through several walls into Vlad’s private study.

Sure enough, there he was. Daniel barely registered that the man was staring blankly, hunched over an old photo album before it was lost from sight as he released the transformation and buried him in a hug from behind, over his shoulders and the desk chair.

Vlad tensed at first, so lost in thought that he hadn’t heard the boy come in.

“Thank you,” Daniel whispered.

Vlad relaxed, closing the book before turning around with a tentative smile.

Daniel let go, and Vlad stood so he could hug his son properly.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I hope you had just as much fun as I did writing it! I’m pretty new to writing fiction (I normally write research papers), so I’d appreciate any feedback you’d be willing to give me. Feel free to point out any mistakes or oversights! Overall, I’m really happy with how this turned out. I guess fifth times’ the charm and all that. I was concerned about the pacing being too slow, so I’m curious to see what you guys think.

I’m also open to requests! Feel free to hit me up. I have a few more shorts planned in this universe, namely, the story of how Daniel’s favorite sweater was damaged and an, admittedly, crack-ish short where Vlad and Daniel react to the sketch that started it all (Vlad commissions a family portrait, but has mixed feelings about the result); but after that, nothing’s planned, but I do have a couple of vague ideas.

Thanks for reading!

#flightyfiction #danny phantom #fanfiction #vlad masters #daniel masters #au #this got really long #oops #long post #tumblr didnt like it the first time #i hope its fixed #update: progress has been made but it still doesnt show up in search #maybe its the links #i might try a link-less version later #here it is #if this fixes it ill post the links seperately #technical difficulties

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