#I just keep drawing them in the same colour outfit but slightly different

[jurassiccraft]

I prefer women (as inspired by this tweet)

[vroomvroomwee]

Aziraphale's vest

I'd like to take a second and talk about his vest because I think it's a really good metaphor for Aziraphale's internal feelings.

At first glance it's obvious the vest is quite old. Really old in fact if you note the way it's practically disintegrating.

And it got me thinking a bit. The way the white practically bleeds from the edges of the neck, shoulders and buttons, going further and further, one day if he's persistent enough to wear it, it might even take over the entire vest. You could say that that, somehow, mirrors Heavens influence over Aziraphale. Slowly, slowly, biding their time, until it has completely ridden him of any colour. Until it has completely washed him of his identity, of his originality, of his character.

Take a look at his clothing when he's up in Heaven.

Completely and utterly white. Every piece of clothing he's wearing is pure and untarnished white. Upon entering Heaven, against his own accord, it has stripped him of his uniqueness, of anything that might distinguish him from any other angel who blindly follows orders and who's sole purpose is to do Heavens bidding.

Now, he could miracle the white patches on the vest away easily. But he doesn't want to.

The thing is. He likes the imperfect. He likes partaking in human activities and pleasures, like food, music, etc. Likes to indulge himself in earthly things Heaven would label as sinful or "sullying." And as someone who bas been on the receiving end of Heavens ridicule and passive aggression for millenia, as someone who for centuries has been told that he's underperforming and needs to do better, as someone who is all too aware of his own impurity by the standards an angel should hold and of the quite frankly unholy behaviour in performing immoral temptations and directly going against Heavens orders no more than a few times throughout the eras, it's no wonder he finds comfort in the imperfect.

He keeps the deteriorating edges because they are a perfect representation of his own internal feelings and image. After all, there's no rule that says he can't. And a big kudos to the costume department, for the patches perfectly encapsulate his religious trauma. Without it, he would probably be a very different person. He wouldn't be the same Aziraphale we know and love. The same way he likes being old-fashioned with his clothes and how that is a part of who he is, his trauma is a part of him as well, along with Heavens influence that has shaped him into who he is today, whether he likes it or not.

Every part of the vest illustrates Aziraphale's character and internal feelings, which brings me to another point I want to draw attention to, and that is the BACK of the vest.

It's DARK. And I don't think I'm mistaken when I say that most of us didn't expect it to look like that from behind. We all just assumed that it would be the same beige colour as the front, which is in tune with the rest of his attire. After all, seeing him wearing a dozen different outfits all throughout history, all of them some shade of white, it was the logical conclusion.

But no.

It's not white. It's a dark, slightly viridian or a dark blue colour. "Dark blue suggests a more mysterious depth or ominous quality. Power and authority: Dark blue signifies power and responsibility. "

Not what we would have expected that colour at all. Similarly to how one wouldn't expect an angel to perform temptations or be gluttonous, or envious, or slothful, or hedonistic. Not at first glance anyway.

Not unless you look carefully.

Not unless you know him.

The coat almost acts like a cover. The light over the dark. Almost as if it's trying to hide something. The only times we see Aziraphale not wearing the coat is in his bookshop. Which is logical, of course. You wouldn't wear a coat indoors, obviously. Except he DOES. He wears the coat when he and Crowley are drunk, he wears it when he's reading Agnes Nutter, he wears it when Gabriel and Sandalphon pop in, he wears it when he's talking to the Metatron, he wears it when he's listening to Shostakovich, he even wears it at the Ritz where it would be custom to take off your coat while dining. And it's worth noting that during the events happening (at least in the first season), the season is summer. Which would make it quite ridiculous to be wearing so many layers everywhere you go and therefore risk boiling. But he still wears the coat.

The only times he doesn't wear it is in the first episode after the sushi, when he's all ALONE, and in season 2 at the bookshop when Crowley comes back and in 1941.

And there's something oh so personal about that.

I don't think it's a coincidence that the darker part is specifically the back of the vest. There's always been this natural human instinct to protect yourself by never ever turning your back on a foe. And I don't think this is a conscious effort on Aziraphale's part, but rather genius writing, directing and costume design, and anyone who's watched and read Good Omens knows that almost nothing is coincidental.

Note this is probably the first time Aziraphale has called Crowley his friend, seeing how uncertain and doubtful he was to even say the word in this scene and how quick he was to deny their friendship in the Shakespeare scene. And the camera immediately cuts from Crowley to Aziraphale, who is turned away, whose back is turned to Crowley oh so casually without a care in the world. Just before he calls him his friend. His back is turned, and so is the dark part of his vest.

The dark part he only shows in his bookshop, when he's alone and there's no one there. The part that he now only shows to Crowley as well. Crowley who knows him so well and who's been with him through everything. "I won't tell anyone if you won't." And "you said trust me""and you did". Just this small motion of Aziraphale depicts exactly how much trust he has in Crowley not only that he'll keep him safe and protected but to accept him just as he is, to not judge him, to not demean him for his imperfections as an angel. Practically mirroring Crowley's self-protection mechanism that is reflected in his motions to hide his eyes with his sunglasses (there's a wonderful meta on this by @simply-brightly-zee here )

And it might just be clothing, or it might just be genius symbolism, but note how self-aware Aziraphale is of his looks when Gabriel pops up.

The desire to impress is almost unconscious in this scene, and how does he go about doing it? By making sure he looks presentable. Presentable, despite the white patches and the vest that is falling apart, he doesn't even realise it. Therefore, it's clear Aziraphale puts thought into his clothes, whether consciously or unconsciously.

I personally dont think any of this (the coat, the patches, the way he turns his back, when, where and around who he's most comfortable) is a deliberate and intentional act on Aziraphales part but rather creative brilliance from the directors and producers. So him being shown to expose the back of the vest only in scenes with Crowley (and the one in s2 infront of an amnesiac Gabriel with the intelligence and awareness of a squirrel) is a master move on the costume department's part. The symbolusm being so small and imperceptible, but holding so much meaning. This small metaphor shows how much Aziraphale trusts Crowley and how comfortable he is around him. Crowley who knows about Aziraphale's transgressions, sins, unholy behaviours, lack of interest and dedication to his job, and overall "incompetence" as Aziraphale might put it and how he's "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing". Crowley, who will accept him and love him no matter what. Not despite those things, but because of those things.

They have found their "own side".

Edit: Not that important, but I just want to mention how, despite being tattered and falling apart, the vest is still in perfectly good condition. No matter the white seeping in and draining its colour, the vest doesn't have a single seam torn, not a button lost, perfect as the day it was bought. No matter what it's been put through, it's still kicking, whether by miracle or sheer willpower. Very much like the person wearing it.

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ KEEP IT ON, ANGEL…❞

— satosugu x fem! reader, shoko might be a little into you, pet names (princess, angel) bratty reader, slightly suggestive near the end, outfit is inspired by something like this

summary; you're all getting ready to go out, but both your boyfriends' clothes make a better outfit than your own

Shoko steadily eyes your silhouette behind the partition, watches as you eventually step out in your third outfit of the night. A pout is still etched onto your glossed lips, and she giggles at the exasperated stomp of your bare foot against the floor. Heaving out a sigh, you look over your figure in the nearby floor-to-ceiling mirror. This fit looks nice, cute even…but it's just not good enough. Your last handfuls of attire have all been missing something, a certain razzle-dazzle that left them lackluster and needing a little something more.

“Well?”, Shoko asks, though the answer is evident from your adorable frown and stiff pose. “This one a winner?”

You hum in response, throwing your hands on your hips and lolling your head to the side in a desperate attempt to make the outfit work. Maybe a different angle will make it look better is your logic. Alas, it has the same problem as your previous attempts.

You groan. “I don’t like it.”

“Looks cute, though.” You’re too busy drowning out the bickering from the bathroom and wondering where this outfit went wrong to notice how her eyes trace over your body.

What you do notice, however, is Suguru’s shirt laying idly on the bed.

It’s a neatly ironed black tee decorated with warm-coloured graphics on the front of some band Suguru liked to listen to. Shoko follows your gaze to the shirt, but remains quiet. She decides to see where you might go with this.

You glance towards the bathroom. In the mirror, you catch a sneak peak of Suguru’s irritated expression as he fails to tune out Satoru’s nonsensical rambling. Both are too busy sabotaging eachother to spot you prancing over to the bed where their clothes are laid out. Next to Suguru’s shirt is Gojo’s black, leather jacket, lustrous and extremely expensive. The gears are starting to turn in your head. Shoko, intrigued, watches you strip down at record speed. The faster you can get their clothes on, the easier it’ll be for you to keep them. You slide Suguru’s oversized shirt over your body, fabric still a little warm even though it's been a minute since he ironed it. The shirt hangs loosely around your waist; you’ll fix that in a second. Satoru’s jacket is cool and heavy on your skin, but it looks incredible with the shirt.

“Need a hand?” Your attention draws to the couch, where Shoko balances a few safety pins between her fingers.

It takes a couple minutes to pin the shirt how you like, and you both listen for the end of the boys' bickering to make sure they don't catch the two little partners in crime. In the end, the final result looks amazing. Geto's tee now fits you like a glove, and the thigh high stiletto boots really bring the whole thing together. All that’s left is a matching handbag and accessories, so off you disappear into the closet. You’re so engrossed in the hunt for that one name-brand handbag from Satoru, that the pair of heavy footsteps approaching you from behind fall on deaf ears.

“Hey.” Suguru says to you, appearing over your now frozen form kneeled on the carpet. “My shirt. Where is it?”

Satoru chimes in from his spot leant against the doorframe. “And hand over my jacket, would ya, princess?”

You cross your arms underneath your chest, plumping your tits up just enough to get them to stare, and jut your lips out in a pout as you glare up at them both. “But I’m wearing them.”

“...And who authorized that idea?”, Geto asks in that ever-so-tolerant tone of his.

“They looked abandoned to me," You quip back. “And the shirt’s wrinkled now, anyway." You turn your attention back to the shelf of handbags. "It needs re-ironing, so might as well just find somethin' else.”

Satoru interrupts before Suguru can argue any further. “Okay. And my jacket?”

“Mine now.” You reply in a sing-songy tease, topped off with the same shit-eating grin Satoru's always giving everyone else, and blink your lashes up at them. “Besides, I look great as fuck! You two aren’t gonna make me take it off now when I look so-," You tuck a hand under your chin and breathe out," ravishing, are you?”

Gojo chuckles and starts to fire back, “We’re gonna end up taking it off you later anyw-“

“Fine.” Suguru quickly cuts him off. “Fine. Keep it on, angel.”

Even a deaf person could hear the absolutely treacherous tone laced beneath the pet name. But if there’s one thing you and Satoru are good at, it is waning a poor Suguru Geto’s patience.

“Thank you, Suguru, so kind, so generous.” You purr his name and give Geto those puppy dog eyes that make him wanna choke you on his fingers. And you’re sure he will, later when Shoko has long gone home.

“Hmph.” Gojo pouts over Geto’s shoulder. “No wonder she’s so spoiled when you give her everything she wants.”

And just like that, you’re coming for Gojo as well, pouting and whining at him, “You gonna take your jacket back from me, Satoru?”

Geto turns to look at him and, underneath two pairs of eyes, suddenly the great Satoru Gojo finds the closet wall extremely interesting. He really wanted to wear that jacket out to the festival tonight, but when you whine his name like that…

His thoughts are interrupted as Suguru gives a huff and shrugs out of his grasp, turning to exit the closet. “No wonder she’s so spoiled.”

“Shut up, Suguru.” You can hear Geto and Shoko laughing at him in the next room. And, now that their attention has moved elsewhere, you can focus on finding that pesky, elusive handbag.

[typosandtea]

Sorry to everyone who follows me for silly drawings! I haven't been posting much as ive been working on making a customisable person crochet pattern for the last few months, here are prototypes 0.1, 0.2 and 0.3! 0.3 is my first attempt at a vault suit

No pattern yet but details \/

I was very sad by the lack of fallout 4 crochet patterns that were not vaultboy and was like oh wait I can attempt to do it myself!!

Once I've got the basic pattern locked down, then I'm going to work on making it customisable so you can make different shaped people, and then I'm going to make various clothes and things! It will mostly be fallout at first as that's why I started this. Once ive gotten the pattern complete im going to make various characters from fallout 4!

I also hope to make the pattern customisable, shapes such as muscular, skinny, fat, tall, short, other customisations such as different hairstyles, noses and ears, and other humanoid creatures such as supermutants, elves, dwarves, tieflings, dragonborn, khajit ect.

will be posting the pattern once I've gotten it to a point that I'm happy with it!

0.1

My first attempt at making a complex crochet project without a pattern. Lots and lots of undoing. It's not very good yet and not symmetrical, a great learning experience though like that what I have been using as a single crochet is actually half double crochet, so these patterns will be completely in HDC. The hands and feet are good and have been carried through so far and will likely remain unchanged for the final pattern. Hair is crocheted separately and sewn on, also not great.

0.2

Fixed a lot of the really obvious issues in 0.1 such as adding a chin, elbows, and slightly better proportions. Had to completely change the shoulders as the neck was a big cone lol. The legs are now the same length. I made a mistake in my counting and the legs are different sizes at the hips. Made a nose and ears. Long hair is just the edges as there would have been too much bulk if I had filled the whole scalp.

0.3

Improvements and new mistakes here. Switched to a smaller hook size (3mm) for density. vault suit is ok, need to work on neater colour changes, The first attempt at incorporating hair into the head resulted in receding hairline. Focusing on colours and proportions resulted in torso and legs having too much twist to them. Increased leg length, torso is too small compared to body I think. I do like the beard and moustache.

Planned improvements for 0.4

Fix torso and leg twisting, increase forearm length, larger torso in proportion to the rest of the body, slightly rounder head, focus on getting shape right before designing outfits.

It might be ambitious but fallout brainrot will keep motivating me haha

[rainbowninja00]

Bluetale (no real spoilers for Chapter 23 of TSE)

so in the newest chapter of This Solar Eclipse, we are introduced to Aqua, Bluetale Toriel. but what is Bluetale?

I'm glad you asked! I'm gonna have a cut cause this might get long.

Bluetale is just like Undertale, but blue. the characters, locations, and even items are all blue!

the characters are either blue or have a blue tint to them (Toriel and Asgore's fur is lightly tinted blue while Alphys and Undyne are just blue) and use blue magic a lot more. so instead of Undyne using green magic in her fight she uses blue, they all do.

Chara and Frisk have blue streaks in their hair to match their souls. speaking of which! determination isn't the primary soul trait here, integrity is. Frisk has a soul of integrity while Chara has one of patience, that's how they stuck around for so long.

"but what about the human souls?" they got another kid with a patient soul and one with determination instead of integrity.

let's talk character design cause I can't draw :')

Frisk wears a sweater coloured robin's egg blue with baby blue stripes. they look pretty much the same other than the sweater and hair streaks.

Chara has blue eyes instead of red, and their sweater is sky blue with powder blue stripes. they are also pretty much the same other than that.

Flowey resembles an echo flower so he can easily sew seeds of chaos throughout the underground. Asriel has a powder blue sweater with sky-blue stripes and slightly tinted fur!

Toriel has a deep dark blue dress with the original white accents, the delta rune on her chest is the same colour. her fur is slightly tinted blue! (her omega timeline design is a bit different, I will describe it more in the next coming chapter of This Solar Eclipse)

Sans looks relatively the same, he has baby blue mittens and slippers instead of pink.

Papyrus has a deep blue scarf, boots, gloves, and emblem. the yellow parts of his outfit are the same tho. much like how everyone draws him he has the body suit thing covering his arms and legs, but instead of being black, it is a very deep navy.

(all the NPCs look basically the same but recoloured blue, for the shits and giggles I might just photoshop some sprites of UT characters to show what I mean.)

Monster Kid is a very light blue, almost seeming white with how pale they are. In contrast, their lil poncho is sky blue with royal blue stripes.

Undyne is very much the same, but her hair and accents are black. her boots are a pain so I say they are just any fuckin colour cause I can't decide. she already has a lot of blue and idk.

Alphys is the same shade as monster kid, if not a bit more green, think a very pale mint.

Mettaton is just switching the pink for blue, either sky blue or a deep blue im not sure.

Asgore's blonde hair is black and his cape is royal blue.

Last but totally not least, the annoying dog has a slight blue tint to its fur and a dark blue paw print mark over its left eye.

the plot is the same as Undertale, with no real changes except for BLUE.

integrity is so important because it's about honesty and being true to yourself and others!

I am definitely gonna recolour some of the in game sprites to show off what they look like so keep an eye out for that! feel free to ask questions about this au cause I'd love to play with it more.

@dreemurr-skelememer Thought you might be interested in a more classic style AU (big 2015-2016 energy here)

[jocopse]

Drabble 1

Prompt: "High heels do look good on you”

Even though Alastor was not excited about this plan, he could admit the dress did look fairly fetching. Or at least comfortable.

What would his family say, seeing him in such a dramatic ballgown? Helen would just laugh, and his father would probably die on the spot. It wasn’t a revealing dress, for it if was the plot would surely be given away. It covered his back and arms; the only part of him clearly visible were his neck and face, but even that was covered in a great deal of makeup.

If Helen would have laughed, it was nothing on the storm that erupted from Faithful upon seeing him.

“You- you look like some kind of pastry!” Faithful brushed an imaginary tear from their eye and continued. “Sorry, just pink is really not your colour is it?”

Ah yes. The dress was also bright pink with an abundance of bows decorating the skirt. “It was the only colour we could find that fit,” Alastor grumbled. It wasn’t his preferred outfit either. He told Faithful as much.

She replied, “No no, you really look quite dashing,” the look on her face said otherwise, “But it’s only for a few hours if all goes according to plan. Get in, pass along the information, and get out. Shouldn’t take that long.” She stood up from her chair to cross to the small desk where the letter Tarius had found lay, presumably to read it over once again.

Alastor wanted to keep the realm in peace as much as the next veteran soldier, but did it really require him to be covered in frou-frou and flounce around gossiping at a ball? The invitation they had stolen along with the compromising letter was for a Mr. William Shaden, A human man who was some kind of war hero. Alastor would never be able to pass for human in close quarters (He thought it was his elven eminence, but it was really the ears), so Tarius had taken up the mantle. Faithful, who actually was female, would have accompanied Tarius, but suspicious looks from townsfolk advised them to not bring them, lest their devilish features draw unwanted attention.

Though unwanted attention was sure to come wherever they went. Tarius stubbornly refused to wear something other than his savage land attire, a sign of barbarians all over the continent; and while all of them were scarred, Tarius had the most visible. Faithful mainly received confusion. People could not quite make sense of why one with infernal ancestry would wear holy vestments. Alastor himself, while the most civilized appearing, drew looks because elves were fairly rare on this continent (He was just half-elven, but that didn’t garner the same level of respect so he didn’t correct any assumptions).

He was really from across the sea, but he and his band had travelled around the world keeping peace and solving the gods’ cryptic riddles. In fact, all of them were from other continents than the one they were currently on.

Alastor was pulled out of his musings by the opening of the door. Tarius stepped out fully adorned, jacket, trousers, waistcoat and all. Now it was Alastor’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve never seen you in something so tight fitting, Tarius. Can you even breathe?” He knew it would be impossible to sit in his own monstrosity of an outfit, so he leaned on the wall and looked on.

Tarius sent him a glare. “At least I’m wearing proper shoes. What about you? No dainty slippers for our great warrior.”

Alastor gave him another once-over, noting Tarius’ own shoes clash with his outfit. (And if Faithful gave Tarius a once-over for a different reason, well, she had eyes, didn’t she)

“I was planning to go barefoot.” Alastor quipped. He had forgotten about shoes, but Niveus strike him down before he admit to forgetting anything.

“Actually,” Faithful began, “I grabbed a few pairs I thought might fit you back from the boutique.” With that, they pulled out two pairs of shoes. The first was very thin and had a pointed end. The second was a slightly higher two or three-inch heel. “As you can see, not many seemed your size.”

He tried the former with no avail, it simply did not fit. The latter wasn’t a perfect fit, but better than the first one, certainly. He stood up and quickly wobbled at the new stance.

“I am already tall enough without the added height. This just makes me look foolish. Also, I cannot fight in these.” He let out a disgruntled sigh as he tried to walk around the small inn room and find balance.

He was right of course. He was already taller than both of his companions, but now Tarius had to tilt his head a bit to meet Alastor’s eyes.

“It’s too late now - and we shouldn’t even be preparing for combat. No fighting this time. And for the record, I think high heels do look good on you.” Tarius gathered the invitation and held Alastor’s arm.

“Now lets go. We’ve got a party to crash.”

[venenatd]

just friends; eren jaegar x reader

summary: you and eren are best pals and have both recently be dumped. so, a plan to get over your exes is needed! what’s better than going out on the town trying to find quick fucks >:) also eren is a smug bastard but kinda has a heart of gold??

content: smut / nsfw 18+. minors dni. (choking, unprotected sex, creampie drinking, drunk sex, possessiveness ig? dirty talk, both of them want to be dominant tbh. slight size kink, oral both m and f receiving. female bodied reader) 

i am new to this pls let me know if i should add anything!!

word count: 5.8k words of unedited content 

a/n: uh so i never thought i’d be back on my tumblr bullshit at 23 but hey after years without the app i’m back. i needed to get out the h-word and this is what happened. enjoy and i’m sorry if it’s terrible lmao

“You look different” 

Frowning at the man waiting ever so patiently for you on the sofa, you look a little defeated. “Is that meant to be a compliment, Eren?”. He sighed, raising his eyebrows at you. To be fair, maybe you did. Wearing a figure hugging black dress, that definitely just hid your ass cheeks, hair styled and sprayed in place, dark lipstick and makeup on your face. Usually Eren would have seen you in sweats, always running a little late for class, snack in hand. 

“Different isn’t bad,” he offered, checking the watch that lay on his wrist, “are we ever going to get to the bar? Your plan will fall through if you’re not careful.”

Ah, the plan. Both you and Eren were newly single. In your final year at university, having managed to keep each relationship going until almost the end. Ironic. Weren’t most meant to fail in the first year? But alas, your partners had decided it was the end within a couple of weeks each other, and as you and Eren had been close since you met on orientation day, you each took to the other for comfort. You had done the crying first, going to him the minute your call with the ex had ended. Leaving wet splotches on his shirt, he had calmed you, only for you to do the same to him later. Now the crying was done, it was time to move on, and what better advice to follow than getting under someone to get over another?

“I just need to look hot enough for a guy to fuck me.”

“What a romantic you are.”

“Shut up Er-”

Eren shifted from the couch, interrupting your usual sass, “and what about me, y/n? Do I look beautiful?”. He threw in a wink with his comment, his aura of cockiness always radiating. You rolled your eyes, before studying his figure. His dark hair half pulled back into a bun, the rest draping his neck and onto a deep emerald green silk shirt, with the top few buttons loose, tucked into dark pants. A ring on each hand, fingers with chipping black nail polish, and to top it off, a thin chain on his neck. You hated to admit it and add to his smug demeanour but... the man did look good. 

“Gorgeous as always Eren,” you said sarcastically, even if it was truthful, “I’m sure there will be a queue of women who are wanting to jump on you.”

“Not if they aren’t all taken already,” he taps at his watch. Whilst the two of you had already been drinking as he waited for you to get ready, it was definitely on the later side.

“Order the uber, and we can go.”

Walking over to him and adding shoes to your outfit, you present yourself before him, a cute little smile playing on your lips. He’s staring down at his phone, quickly going through the motions for the ride. Finally, he looks up to catch your eyes. His jade pupils flick down slightly, and he hopes you miss that they land at the cleavage you’re sporting in your current get up. He flicks your nose, earning a scowl from you and a smile from him.

“You look perfect”

The club is far fuller than you both expected, dance floor and tables taken up and crowded round. Luckily, you had managed to secure you and Eren a pair of seats at the bar, and you were currently on your third..? Fourth drink of the evening. Green eyes watch your lips carefully, as you finish the vodka and lemonade. 

“So, anyone take your fancy?” he prompts, looking around at the mess of people.

Humming, you scan the area. There’s some people you recognise from class, but plenty more you don’t know. Fucking friends seems like a bad move, even in your tipsy state, so you look to the strangers faces. They don’t look like him. Ugh. 

There’s a few options though, and as you point them out to Eren they come with brief descriptors: dark hair and stubble, wide set blonde. He tuts at the options, sarcastically letting out a “sure sure, I see the appeal”. 

“And how about you, anyone you like the look of?” you ask with a sigh.

Christ, Eren thinks to himself. It’s been long enough that he hasn’t had to look for someone else. Sure there were attractive people in the world, but with her around, he hadn’t needed to give anyone else a second look. His palm moves to the back of his neck, stretching out behind him with a huff. “Let’s look on the dance floor?” he offers, clearly not as eager as you were tonight. Moving his hand back down, he holds it out for you, pulling towards the throng of people.

He looks effervescently cool like this. Shirt open, hair starting to fall from his bun. Eren is looking around at the people surrounding the two of you. The two of you had been working in circles, allowing each other an eyeful as the club goers move around the space. As a group of guys push their way from the dance floor to the bar, you get shoved towards Eren. Heels were never quite your forte, and you stumble against him, hands on either side of his chest. Grinning down at you with that smug little smile that annoyed you so much, Eren brought large hands to your waist, pushing you away a little. But his hands stay there as he continues to sway to the music, making no effort to break the contact. And so you bring your arms up to his neck, allowing his movements to carry you on time to the song. For the first time in the past couple of weeks, you feel light. Your chest isn’t constricted by some foreign weight. It’s just you and your best friend, buzzed and free.

Colours change above you, as you look up to Eren, him down to you. A playful grin takes his lips as he pulls you a little closer, you so easily accepting the narrowing distance. Your black silk meets his deep green, chest pushing into his. You carefully analyse his features, seeing if he attempts to check you out like earlier. 

Was it the alcohol making your cheeks so warm? Lit up by a purple hue, you watch his eyes return to exploring the crowd, his hand still holding on to you. His smirk falters, his eyebrows creasing together. You’re not moving in circles anymore, Eren pausing in his movements as he thinks about what to do next. He shouldn’t lie to you, but seeing your ex at the bar would really harsh the night. Under his fingers, he can feel your body tense, suddenly unsure at how close the contact between you was. 

But Eren doesn’t want you to know, he doesn’t want you to be distracted by your ex tonight. He doesn’t want to see your hurt little face anymore. The way your eyes would be red and puffy the next day. The way he would feel your shoulders heaving under his arms. You don’t deserve that. Hell, you didn’t deserve the huge amount of shit your ex had put you through over the years he’d known you. Eren would sit back and listen to you rant, support you where he could. But fuck that guy. And he wasn’t sure what sparked in his chest, but Eren’s jade orbs are trained straight back on you. His eyebrows calm, tension releasing from them. As you can turn to scope out whatever had changed his body language so suddenly, he catches your jaw. 

Beginning to slowly move again, his eyes have narrowed, taking in the way the dress hugs you, the shine on your skin from the hot dance floor. Eren couldn’t quite figure out what was intoxicating him right now. Definitely a lot of alcohol, but also a sudden… possessiveness. He didn’t want you in pain anymore. Eren wanted you in pleasure. His breath is suddenly on your neck, making your hair raise. 

“I’ve only seen one person I’m interested in tonight.” 

“Oh?” you squeak, before clearing your throat a little. The new deep notes in his voice catch you off guard. It almost sounds like he’s… No. He’s your best friend. The little looks you’d been giving each other all night were just two people looking out for one another, two people seeing each other happy for the first time in a while. Your voice is calmer as you ask light-heartedly, “and who would that be?” 

His lips are so close to your ear. 

“You.” 

“Eren-” your hands move from behind his neck, resting on his shoulders. You need to see your best friend's face, you need to know if he’s joking right now. If he’s mocking you. When you draw back, you see his face. Smug, as always. Fuck you’ve always wanted to knock that cockiness down a peg. Cheshire smile showing his teeth and his eyes looking down at you. Half lidded eyes, pupils blown. He’s not joking. Fuck.

“Can I kiss you?” 

Your breath is caught in your throat. All too aware suddenly of each of his finger pads pressing into your skin, the contact feeling like fire with the added alcohol. But, you find yourself nodding, the yes just escaping your lips before he’s pressed into them.

Large hands travel to your hip, and up your back, pressing you into him. You can feel his body, tense in exhilaration against you, hands back around his neck. One travels up to the nape of his back, tangling into his hair and pulling him deeper into you. The music is all consuming, you can feel the bass in your body, you can feel Eren against you, you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

Eren’s hand on your back travels up, echoing your placement on him, to hold the back of your neck. He doesn’t want you to go, you feel too good. The heat between your bodies could suffocate him. His thumb puts pressure under your jaw, he isn’t even sure you can feel it. But he can, measuring your pulse racing underneath the pad. He’s smiling into this kiss, this all consuming kiss.

His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, and you’re all too eager to allow him into your mouth. Tasting the whisky from your home, tasting the coke from the club. His teeth take your lip nipping slightly, before sucking the plump of it into his mouth. You both come up for air, eyes meeting in acknowledgment of the situation.

“Wanna get out of here?”

The drive home had only served to heap tension between you. As clearly that it was that you wanted each other, you would have to wait a while longer. Your thighs pressed together, slowly inhaling and exhaling. Going through your mind was whether this was a good idea, staring out at the city passing by you. Eren was your friend. You were dating another man two weeks ago. The same man that had previously asked you if he needed to be worried about Eren. You’d laughed it off, because it was Eren. You were brought out of your thoughts when you felt him grip your leg, a little too harshly at first, before settling, leaving a gentle pattern of circles and lines on your inner thigh. It was Eren.

Just one hallway. You had to make it one hallway to get into your apartment. One hallway left to come to your senses. And just like he read your mind, Eren is once again touching you, just his hand on yours pulling you backwards. You twist just in time, his hands instantly cupping your cheeks as he kisses you, deeply and intensely. Pushing you back into the wall, you pray a neighbour doesn’t walk out now. His knee is pressing gently between your legs, and you allow it. Your fingers sink into Eren’s arms, lightly covered by the fabric yet you can still feel the muscle underneath, relaxing and tensing as he pulls you closer. 

His lips are making their way to your jaw, lifting your chin upwards, tentatively licking the bone before moving downwards still, sucking and nipping and licking your neck. A whimper breaks through. You really need to get inside. Gripping his hair, you sharply pull backwards.

“Not going to play nice, huh?” 

When did he speak like this? The playful and shit-eating grin your friend Eren always wore was replaced by something darker, his words laced with intent. 

“Don’t challenge me.” 

You were off, finally at your door, making quick work with the lock, moving in first before he followed. The door shut as you pushed Eren against it, usual doe eyes being taken over with a deep lust. Your hands are instantly at his belt, as his hands find your face once again. This time he’s grabbing your hair, making you look up at him as he glares down at you. You’re constantly challenging one another in conversation, and it’s translating to the bedroom far too easily. 

Lips are on one another again, as you leave the belt and start towards his shirt. You bite down on his bottom lip, earning a hiss from him, and you feel his hand being brought around your throat. He doesn’t add too much pressure, checking if this turn is indeed okay with you. When you push against the weight, he takes the gleam in your eye as a yes, and uses the force to push you against the next wall, finally moving off the front door. 

It’s a constant battle to get to the bedroom, both of you taking control for short bursts. Eren pulling the thin straps of your dress down, you untucking his shirt. His muscular torso is on full display, and you had never viewed it in this light before. 

Finally he pushes you onto the bed, situating himself between your legs. Your kisses are sloppy and infused with alcohol. Hands are desperate with one another, both of you needing to be closer. Are you scared if the contact ends your thoughts will return to sanity? 

Eren’s hot and heavy over you, his hands seem everywhere at once. Smoothing up your thigh, digging in slightly to the flesh when you grind against one another. His hands rest at your hips for a moment, and he’s looking down at you, still fucking smiling. All at once, he’s flipped you over his prominent hard on pressing into your ass. He’s whispering in your ear, leaving wet kisses along your neck, to your shoulder blades. Fingers take the zip at the back of your dress, slowly and carefully pulling it down, leaving licks and pecks as he goes. It’s torturous. 

You attempt to speed things up by rutting your ass against his crotch, and you think you hear a quiet moan, before his hand is brought down to the fabric, smacking your cheek. You gasp, turning your head to look at him. Eren is too occupied in taking in all of your body, his green eyes are darkened with authority and lust. His nimble fingers play with the short hem of your dress, thumb dipping beneath, before he pushes the silk up. 

You both let out soft fuck’s, as his hands grab at the plump of your ass. It’s like he’s testing the softness, the way your flesh responds to his touch so easily. He slaps at you again, earning a sharp moan from you. Eren’s leaning down, his mouth once again trailing across the apex of your behind, leaving trails of saliva as he goes. Before you can even register the new sensations you can feel a soft pressure against your clothed cunt, just enough to let you know the presence of his hand, but not enough for you to get off on. You’re mewling, once again trying to get closer to him. This time he allows it, eagerly pressing his ring and middle finger to your clit, allowing you to grind upon them. 

Seeing you underneath him like this… it’s new and strange and so fucking hot. He’s watching you desperately try and fill the need building in your core, and he can only feel his cock twitch in his pants as he sees you coming undone. If you wanted more, he could definitely give it to you. Bringing his large hands away, to the flimsy fabric that was covering you, he pulls it down, exposing you to him. His heart and dick fucking jump. His hands return to your ass, watching the jiggle as you move and whimper. Spreading you, he brings his face down, breath tingling on your most sensitive areas.

Your breath catches in your throat as his tongue, gentle at first, licks between your folds. He’s tasting you, he’s moaning into your pussy, as you write beneath him. Eren’s hands are squeezing your ass cheeks, holding you still as you try to grind against his face. 

“Patience, y/n”, he says, with a slap on your behind again. 

“Fuck you,” you hiss. 

“You will be in a minute, baby girl, don’t worry.”

You go to make a retort but he’s instantly back, licking up your slit and a deep moan escapes you. Jesus you can feel the smile on his lips as he’s back on your pussy. Eren is so proud of the sounds he can draw from you. He wonders if your ex could make you come undone so easily. 

You taste sweet and saccharine on him, and he doesn’t hold back the groan as he further works his way into you. Hardened tongue moving it’s way from your entrance down to your clit. He swipes at it, before moving away again. Kissing your thighs, kissing the skin between your holes. Every now and then he’ll move back to your clit, allowing you a moment of pleasure before he’s teasing again. “Fuck, please”. Your whines are being smothered by the sheets, and Eren wants nothing more than to hear them, loud and clear.

Eren’s ringed fingers make their way to your hair, his face lifting from between your legs. He pulls you back round, and holy shit you can see how wet you are on his face. There’s a sheen to his lips and chin, and instinctively you reach up to his neck, pulling him back on top of you. Your tongue meets his, tasting your tartness on his mouth. A hand makes it way back down in between your thighs, playing and parting your folds. Your hand in turn reaches up his neck, pulling sharply at his hair once again. “Eren. More- please” you get out in between staggered breaths. 

“Aw, since you asked so nicely” his eyes watch your expression closely as his thumb rests on your clit, his finger swiftly moving inside you. Your eyebrows raise and knot, eyes wide and lips parted. But he keeps it still as your legs shaked around his arm. “Eren, move” you demand this time. 

“Oh, that’s not so nice. I liked it when you were polite.” He starts to retract his finger, thumb gently swabbing your clit so you’ll know what you miss.

“Please, please, please, Eren, please” you speak before he even gets the first knuckle out. All the teasing was creating a tightness in your lower stomach. 

“Much better.”

You whine as he continues to pull his finger from you, until he pushes it back in, curling his solitary finger up. Your fingernails are pressing deep into the muscle of his bicep, feeling how it moves as he finger fucks you. He’s hitting that perfect spot inside you again and again, and his thumb is swiping eagerly on your clit. 

Eren can feel you fluttering around his finger, desperate for more, desperate to release on him. He adds another finger, your wetness allowing him entrance easily. He wants to fuck you so bad, his cock so hard it felt like it was about to burst. 

He pushes your hands off him, leaving crescent moon indents deep in his skin, he works his way back down. He brings the black silk with him this time, fully being able to take in your body as you’re left naked before him. Holy shit you’re beautiful. He doesn’t want to stare too long and make you shy. But he still kisses his way down, before he’s back at your pussy. 

This time he allows you more movement, letting your fingers work their way back into his hair, letting you roll your hips against his tongue and stubble. 

With his spare hand he pulls out his cock, slowly pulling at it, before he realises he can’t do that for too long without cumming before the main event. Instead he reaches up, rolling your perked nipples in between his fingers. There are so many sensations on your body, and Eren can feel your cunt beginning to tighten around his fingers. You hold your breath before letting out little moans, building towards reaching your height.

“You want to cum on my fingers?

Your back is arching, whispering “yes, yes, yes, please” as your walls are tightening around him. He quickens the pace, making sure to hit that spot inside you over and over. Thighs around his face, he can feel your slick pooling in his mouth, and coating his chin once again. 

Your gummy walls are so tight around his thick fingers, he needs you to finish, watch you fully unravel below him. Sucking and licking at your clit, he’s pushing you towards the edge. 

“Eren-” his name is strangled coming out of you, and then your moaning, undulating your cunt against his mouth, riding out your orgasm. 

His jade eyes look up at you, watching as you pull your head up to look at him, before another wave of pleasure hits you and you have to arch your neck and look back up. He waits for you to come down, letting you fuck his face and fingers. Grinding against his stubble and tongue as you let out pitiful and beautiful moans. You’re so fucking wet, the sounds coming from between the two of you should be forbidden, as you release onto him. 

Finally he withdraws, using his forearm to wipe his face. He lies next to you, allowing you a moment as he draws little circles on your stomach. Eren has never quite looked at you in this light. Sure, you were pretty, and the two of you were obviously close. But now you’d walked a line that couldn’t be undone. You weren’t over your ex, and as okay as Eren was with what had happened between you, he didn’t want you to run. He’s overcome with thoughts, looking down to your chest and the heavy breaths you were taking. All he could pray was that you weren’t pretending he was someone else. 

But as Eren is getting caught up in his own mind, you’re twisting, hand reaching to his crotch, cock having been recaptured by his boxers. Palming him, you feel how big he really is for the first time. Fingers trace the edge of his pants and underwear, and he lifts his hips, allowing you to pull them down. Shit. His dick slapped back to his stomach, precum leaking from the top of his pink head. He was bigger than you’d imagined, because of course you’d imagined it a couple of times.

Your hand looks so small around his cock, but you slowly tease him, his deep green orbs following your movements. Bringing your head down to him, you kitten lick the precum from the top of his dick. He hisses gently, and you look up at him with these big doe eyes, so fucking eager to please.

You push your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks and flattening your tongue as you begin working along his shaft. He moans just at the sight of you, your eyes peeking up through dark lashes. His hand goes through your hair, eagerly pushing you deeper around him. 

He lets out a hoarse, “is this okay?” before you put your own hand on his pushing it for the both of you. You don’t even want to come up for air, you just want him close to you, inside you. 

You were learning far more about each other than you had expected, as Eren takes back over. He pushes himself further into you, muttering a good girl that has you whining. The vibrations around his cock make his hips buck, and now you’re gagging as his length hits the back of your throat. He holds you there instead of letting you off, and your nails are sharp against his thighs.

His head lolls back as he starts to move his hips under you, moving you in turn with your hair. He picks up the pace quickly, allowing saliva to drool from you and straight to his cock. 

Your eyes prick, big fat tears forming at the corners. But you’re enjoying this way too much, the moans and gasps he gives make you moan, pressing your thighs together for some kind of friction. 

He takes your jaw in his grasp, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. Your tongue sits out your mouth, him smacking the head of his dick on it. He notices your tears then, the mascara that’s running a little. He swipes at the corner of your eyes, leaning down to press a kiss into your forehead. 

Bringing you up to him, your dripping folds sliding across his length. His lips are on your cheeks, across your jaw, licking up your neck before reclaiming your plush lips once again. You continue grinding against one another, tongues slipping in and out of each other's mouths. Eventually Eren brings his hands to your hips, lifting you up as you hold his shaft up.

Your foreheads are pressed together as he slowly pushes inside you. The stretch is burning and all-consuming, eyes pricking up again as you feel him hit your furthest wall. Eren breathes out heavily, “So fucking tight”

You roll your hips, allowing some friction from him on your clit. It helps your muscles relax a little, and balancing your hands on his shoulders you push yourself up and down, using his length for your own pleasure. Eren’s eyes don’t leave your form, watching your breasts bounce and how your eyes flutter close as he fills you entirely.

“You really did want to be fucked, huh? Look at you” he teases you, watching as you go to talk back before he thrusts his hips up. It leaves the words caught in your throat.

His pace maintains, holding you in place as he fucks up into you, feeling your cunt clench around him. There are long moments where you hold your breath, holding his cock tight within you. Then you’ll release and moan, before holding it in again. Well, Eren is all too happy to help you with that. 

One hand grabbing the flesh of your hip, the other wrapping around your throat, he pushes into you at a punishing rate. Your eyes go wide at the sudden restriction of your throat, feeling the cold metal of his ring against your pulse. 

“Who knew this about you? That you were such a slut?”

As much as he knows you want to deny it, you want to smack the smugness from his voice, he can feel your pussy tighten around him. He sees your eyes roll back a little. 

“You’re getting tighter.” 

The hand on your hip moves down, attempting to hold you in place whilst letting his thumb press over your clit. The sounds of him slapping against your wetness is obscene, and he’s only distracted from it as you whimper out pathetic yes’s and please’s. 

“You wanna cum?” he’s grunting, trying to keep the pace going until you can reach your peak.

You nod against his wide hand, still tight around your neck. “Oh you can do better than that. I already know how bad you want it, slut.”

“Please Eren, please make me cum. I want to cum, please, please, please” you can barely make out the words, your head going light and body tightening.

“Cum for me.” 

You release, and as he can feel the fluttering of your walls around him, he lets go of your throat. The sudden oxygen as you cum leaves you overwhelmed. Burying yourself in his shoulder, he fucks you through it. Cock slapping up into your cunt over and over, somehow being sucked deeper in as you coat his length with more of your own slick. He can feel your nails breaking the flesh of his back as you’re holding on for dear life, moaning his name and even a fucking thank you into his ear.

As you begin to slow, legs shake as you stay straddled over him. He flips you, Eren now firmly on top, slowly moving in and out of you. The stimulation is intense, your cunt sparking at any sensation. 

Caged between his forearms, his hair is a mess thanks to you. You push tendrils back past his ears as he leans down to kiss you once again. This kiss is different. It feels… less desperate. It feels deep and meaningful, caring even.

Your eyes meet in acknowledgment, both of you too worried to speak about the shift in tone. 

He reaches down instead, pulling your leg up and splitting you on his cock. A tongue swipes at your nipple, biting and playing with each as he gradually picks up pace again. You’re still so fucking wet it’s easy for him to thrust into you at a dizzying pace. You can feel all of him against your gummy walls. Each time he passes that special spot inside you, you moan and gasp, and it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

His thrusts were becoming more primal, holding your thighs close around his hips. Letting your sweaty bodies collide again and again, his balls slapping against you. The grunts and moans coming from his lips were so infuriatingly erotic. Eren just wanted one more from you, and then he’d let himself finish. If this was to be a drunken mistake, so be it, but he would at least make it memorable. 

Those jade eyes were on you once again, the power and dominance radiating from the immeasurable. He can see you barely being able to hold on, completely fucked out beneath him. You’re moaning and whining, hands moving over the swell of your breasts and playing with your nipples as if it’s going to keep you grounded. 

He sits up, eyes flicking down to where you were conjoined. It took so much restraint not to cum inside you right then and there. Your glistening sex was so tight around him, the wet slapping noises echo again and again. You’re pulling and sucking him in, cream pooling around his length. 

“Give me one more, y/n. I want to feel you cum on my cock.”  

You try to look up at him through heavy lids. Your friend Eren saying this is so taboo. The words he’s said tonight so far from normal for the both of you. You flutter around him, somehow your pussy still wants to be fucked, still wants to push you off the edge one more time. You can feel the coil inside your stomach tightening. 

Eyes rolling back, you can barely keep it together anymore. He’s pounding into you at a startling rate, fingers flicking over your clit again and again and again. 

“P - please, it’s s-so good.” 

Your breaths between words were quick, “you’re so big-”

“Yeah you like that? You like being so full of my cock? Such a pretty face you make when you’re all fucked out.” 

Holy shit.

Eren could tell how much words affected you, your back arching and legs pulling him somehow closer into you.

“Come on, baby. I wanna hear those moans.” he’s grunting, getting so fucking close to losing himself in your cunt. He knows what he wants to hear most though, “say my name. Tell me who’s treating you how you should be”

With that, you’re losing yourself around him again. Writing on the bed, gripping sheets in tightly balled fists. White light taking over your sight as you clench around Eren. This orgasm was the most intense, taking your body by surprise in its overstimulated state. You weren’t even making a noise, just holding on to the high for as long as possible. 

And then you shattered, whining and moaning, whispering his name over and over again. 

As you moved underneath him, Eren kept his punishing pace up until he watched you expel the last of your energy. Name forming on your lips over and over again he falters, releasing inside you. You can feel the stickiness inside you, the sensation of being filled up. Eren watches for a moment as he sees the white pearls forming around your stretched out pussy.

His chest is back on yours as he kisses your neck, shoulders, whatever skin he can. Thrusting back into you a couple of times, he finally pulls out. You feel his cum dripping out of you, but you’re too spent to do anything about it.

Eren lies next to you, both of your bodies attempting to regulate from that. 

“You okay?” 

He’s checking in, making sure he didn’t go too far with someone he genuinely cares for. 

You nod, turning to meet his stare. Giving him a drowsy smile, you’re not sure what comes next. But for now, you’re happy. Curling into his side, he puts an arm round you and lets you rest for a while. As he notices your breathing become deeper, he nestles into you, muttering something about clean up. 

Moving away from you, you can make out some noises of a tap, drawers opening and closing. In your sleepy state you feel him gently wiping at you, two glasses of water being put on the bedside table. Finally he makes his way back to you, and Eren notes how cute you look. Hot and completely fucked out, yes. But also gentle and at peace, allowing the heaviness of sleep taking over.

He rests behind you, wanting to be back in your warmth. He pulls you in closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. The fragrance of you takes over his nostrils, and he’s all too eager to move closer to your hair, pressing one last kiss at the nape of your neck. Whatever tomorrow brings, he hopes it’s not the last time he gets to be this close to you.

[daphnedauphinoise]

Next style guide 🥺

For you,my muse:

Carolyn Bessette

She was a publicist at Calvin Klein when she met the king of prep, my personal hearthrob, JFK Junior. I love this deatched vibe that you get from her and well JFK Junior got that too from her. I  loved her because she gotJFK Jr but I love her even more because she has never not looked good. 

Carolyn’s style in three words would be simple, androgynous and straightforward. She doesn’t venture into anything too colourful or too risque but that is what works with her look and why she looks good all the time. Her style is a result of having a solid capsule wardrobe with items she van rotate throughout the year. But her capsule wardrobe is slightly different from the modern 2020 capsule wardrobe. What I love about Carolyn is the lack of blazers. Instead she uses long coats, long sleeved knits or she just goes sleeveless. Constantly wearing a blazer (imo) isn’t as stylish as people think it is, it is very easy to use a blazer as a scapegoat when you know your outfit is heading south. Sure, there isn’t alot of variety  in her style but that 'simpleness' is what looks good on her and her commitent to that, is why she looked good all the time. 

 The basics of her style is a button down, trousers and loafers. In most of her pap photographs she is wearing a variation of this. During warmer months, she switches to a silk skirt. She wasn’t a accessoriezer either or a makeup girlie. Infact in most of her pictures she is only sporting red lipstick and her hair either out and in a bun.

Regardless she has the coolness about her and she complimented JFK Jr well... a lot of people did not think so but I say she did. 

How to dress like Carolyn Bessette in..

Autumn/Winter?

Long silhouettes work beautifully during winter. Long A-line coats made with good quality wool are some of the best types of coats. Thicker knits layered on top of each other paired with structured trousers. I like to advise my friends to keep their knits and cardigan loongg. Long shilotues are very pleasing to the eye, it makes you look more uniform and it makes you look taller with a silmming effect.  If you are petite and/or you have a large bust, avoid crowding your neck with knitwear. High necks tend to make women with bigger bust look congested and stuffy. ( It also gives us the most unforgiving uniboob too) Try more v-line neckline or scoop neckline with knits, also I tend to avoid thick knits as the volume of the fabric makes me look clunky and not oversized chic. 

In a style where everything is so consistent, colour is how you are going to look different. You would think people would wear darker, rich colours in the colder months but they don’t. There is no need to be mono-chromatic all the time and again being dressed in mono-chromatic head to toe, isn’t the hallmark of good style. Carolyn used a lot of red to stop her outfits from looking repetitive. I think red is avery underrated colour. You only ever see it in lingere or silk-satin dresses because people only associate sensuality with red and compelty ignore that red also means power. Red in coats has the power to draw you in becuase you look different but the sleekness of your style isn’t screaming clown from the travelling circus but powerful lady coming through. 

Carolyn (i say as we were besties) loved wearing loafers. I think she wore them a lot because loafers show skin which helps break up an outfit. Because she wears a lot of long silhouettes and matching dark trousers and dark footwear, it is good to wear something that breaks up your body so you don’t look like a long line with no feet. Ballet flats are coming back and they do the same thing as well. Boots are another staple. I love pairing boots and long dress together. For the Carolyn Bessette look I would ditch the bratz esque knee high boots for something that is more loose with a moderate heel height.

Spring? Summer?

Personally, I am resortwear kind of girl. Heavily perfumes, heavily adorned and in soft fluttering fabrics is how you will find me. But Carolyn, nope. She still maintains those structures in her clothing choice during the summer months. Boxy oversized shorts, structured linen shorts (I highly reccomend everyont to have one pair in cream or beige, its such an essential), sandals, chinos, ribbed cami and silk-satin dresses that end just under your knee. 

Hamptons chic is her summer style. Linen, cotton and merino wool for the chiller knits. This is the time to wear the lighter colours of your favourite colours. If you want (and Carolyn did this) you can wear the same ensemble of an outfit but with lighter fabrics.

What I have noticed that is different in her spring/summer style and her autumn/winter is that there is a certain laissez-faire in her dressing style. Top buttons are undone, her hair is messier and she is relaxed. Her hair was always unkept but I think that really worked for her. 

Brands to get inspo for  Carolyn’s style: Iris & Ink, Khaite, Joseph and The Row.

There is a girl on tikok who is a great person to follow if you like Carolyn’s style ( i will tag her when i find her) .

Overall her style is very model-off duty-esque. There isn't really anything that stands out about her style from the next model but her style is undeniably hers. Apart from her marriage to JFK Jr her cool style is what she is remembered for. Everyone who met her in NYC would say that her style and grace were what caught their eyes. She had a way of holding her neck eye and she has this look that nothing could truly surprise her. It was her who truly established the minimalist look when fashion was heading straight to colour, glitter and prints. I miss her and I think about her all the time and I hope as she looks down from heaven that she is the blueprint and 20 years later people still want to emulate her signature look.

Daphne xoxo

[dragynkeep]

on the theme of team outfits, mind doing your analysis for Ironwood, Winter and the Ace Ops?

Ironwood has already been done here!

Winter’s original outfit was so good. I will say that both outfits at the very least do a good job in mirroring her with Ironwood, showing just how much of an influence that he and the military have had on Winter’s life. 

But this one just works both as a mirror and a stand alone outfit. The long white coat being offset by the darker blue vest and thigh highs, the white skirt adding that bit of elegance to Winter, the red gem being surrounded by a star like how Atlas is associated with the sky, and her puffy sleeves and gloves add to Winter’s rich background that later changes to a more militaristic life. 

They really do not only give off a higher class soldier, but also someone that Weiss looks up to. Both her and Winter have the red collars, but while Weiss has a bigger collar that’s more visible, Winter’s is very much on the inside, visible but only slightly. It really adds to Winter’s more closed off personality and how she isn’t as connected to the Schnee legacy as Weiss is. 

And the details on it only help to make the design more interesting, rather than unnecessarily cluttering it. The silver linings on her jacket help add to the colder feel, and the designs on her thigh highs stop such a large area of her lower body looking too plain. Plus, just the little things like her bun being slightly crooked, how her fringe covers some of her face, it just adds to Winter’s design and character.

She’s proper and colder, but there’s something else beneath the surface. She’s obviously Weiss’ sister, but the black eyebrows, and darker steel eyes help to set her apart from Weiss in little ways. It makes Winter seem more hardened, which she obviously is. 

I understand that the timeskip has Winter change her outfit, especially since Ironwood also had two new outfits, but I really do think this is a downgrade from what we got before. 

Now, looking back at this, I don’t hate it as much as I used to, but I still don’t like it. I do like that the dark pants contrast with the white jacket, and that it’s style is reminiscent of her old jacket with the frilled tailcoats. Even the details on the sleeves are pretty, keeping the elegance and interest to what would otherwise be a pretty boring jacket. 

But how the jacket is styled is kinda dumb. I don’t get how the lapels are over the sash, but the jacket is under it, and add with the detailing on the sash itself, with the two belts, and the two different colours on the lapels, and Winter’s whole midsection is very cluttered and just messy. 

It doesn’t help that the shirt underneath has so many lines on it also. It’d work better to just set back from all the details for a minute and slim it down. 

Also, stop slapping random belts on your characters’ arms please, I’m going insane.

While I like the darker pants, and how this seems like Winter is slipping more into the military compared to before, I don’t like the boots. I hate all the shoe designs in the Atlas arc because they don’t even look like shoes. They look like shoes someone draws when they’re too lazy to look in their shoe cabinet. The red band at least helps to separate the shoes and pants to stop them from blending in, but I just don’t like them. 

And this just gets worse with her V8 updated outfit. The cluttered look gets even more cluttered when she’s slapped into black armour, that isn’t even to help her move or provide any sort of support due to her injuries. They serve no purpose, and just make an already low tier outfit even worse.#

I’m not gonna talk about the outfits individually because they’re simply the same outfits. Yeah, they tailored differently for each Ace Op, but they all share the same colour scheme and aesthetic, which makes sense because this is, above all else, a uniform. 

Though it’s funny that these five show more character and individuality in their uniforms than the Happy Huntresses, who all wear the exact same thing but in different colours. 

The colour schemes aren’t bad. The cold pallet of white, black and blue work well with the pop of red, and I like that there’s some differences attributed to their characters. Plus, I know them not being in their signature colour is usually a negative, but in the context of it being Atlas, which was established to be against sell expression, the top soldiers all being in the same colours does add to the worldbuilding. 

Harriet is dressed more in jogger wear, streamlined because of her speed Semblance, while her hair is styled after hare ears to fit in with her allusion. 

Vine has almost Tibetan style clothing and, ignoring how he was treated in the show, i like that the prayer beads and almost monk clothing sells his serene personality and spirituality. 

Clover is adorned with trinkets commonly associated with good luck, like the rabbit’s foot on his belt, the horseshoe he carries around, and his signature four leaf clover pin. 

Elm is quite an open person and her more casual wear reflects that attitude. The person with the foot fetish got a hold of her because I don’t understand why she has to bear her feet, or why they were specifically modelled to be dirty, but the protection around her legs sells the rooted look for her tree motif. 

And Marrow’s is the closest to the common soldier uniform, showing that he’s the new member of the group and hasn’t really grown into his own yet amongst the Ace Ops. He has some differences, like his personal neckscarf, but compared to the others, Marrow hasn’t established his own identity and given that he starts to move away from the Ace Ops, really does foreshadow that maybe he doesn’t fit in.

So yeah, neat trinkets and tidbits, a cohesive colour palette, but the uniform is just kinda meh? It doesn’t blow me away or anything, and most of them besides Marrow really aren’t dressed for Atlas, but it’s good enough for what it’s meant to be. 

[crystal-moon-101]

Since I saw people talking about Ben's little big chill kids, I thought I'd finally do some headshots of my ones, who are also a part of my Ben 10 Next Gen. For me, I've always imagined that for young necrofriggians, they all start out looking the same (Beyond some size difference), but as they grow older, they'll start to develop their own patterns, small body traits and shades of colour, as showcased here. I'll share the little info on each sibling, and the basics of who they are as a person. When Ben first found them again, saving them from poachers and going full mum mode, they had been developing these different psychical traits, but not enough to identify each properly on their own, so while giving them names, Gwen used bandana pieces to colour code them, and each kid still wears theirs to this day, slightly modified. So here they are now, as full grown young adults. You can follow from left to right each row, or just the colours next to their names. -North (Black)- The largest and physically strongest of the kids, North acts as the leading member when Ben isn't around, doing their best to watch out for their siblings and be a middle ground to them. It's been this way since they were born, looking out for them and doing whatever they can to protect the others. This has resulted in North collecting quite a few scars and wing tears, though they wear them with pride, wanting to display how strong they are to others. They often looks up to Ben when it comes to being a hero, in how their mumdad protects others and the galaxy, and wants to be a fighter like him one day, often asking to train with their mumdad whenever he's around. Ben has suggested Plumber training for North, but they're still thinking about that. -Tundra (Red)- Tundra is a very curious one, and is known to wander off when things catch their interest. They prefer using experience to learn from, thus making them quick on their feet when something happens, and good at thinking logical. When the siblings are struggling with something, or come across some kind of problem, it's often Tundra who provides the quickest answers that should go well for them. That being said, due to their wandering, they gave gotten into trouble a few times and need to be saved by their siblings or Ben, as despite how smart they are, they can be a bit of a ditz when something catches their interest. -Grey (Silver)- Having a connection to the earth bellow, Grey often spends their time searching caves, and any hidden areas they can find. They especially love to research and find minerals of any kind, ranging from metals to gems, sometimes even studying their metal lunch for the day before eating it. Because of this, they can be carelessly dirty, and aren't the cleanest of people, but does pick up after themself when reminded. Grey is also pretty close with their sibling Storm, and surprising Gwen and Ben when first hearing the two call each other "Dweeb" and "Doofas", when first meeting them again. -Storm (Brown)- As someone who likes to spend a lot of time flying and high in the clouds, Storm is fascinated by the weather and how it behaves, and feeling the cold fresh air and challenging themself with flight training. This has provided them to have the most agility in the air, and knows the best ways to build up speeds, while also not draining themself. Whenever they aren't flying around, they're doing research on the weather, very keen to be a meteorologist one day. Whenever Ben visits, they will often ask him about the weather on other planets, and any adventures he's had in the sky. Storm is also pretty close with their sibling Grey, and surprising Gwen and Ben when first hearing the two call each other "Dweeb" and "Doofas", when first meeting them again. -Crystal (Blue)- Graceful on their feet, Crystal is a charming and gentle person, with a keenness for the art of dancing, especially when hovering in the air. This was something sparked in them when seeing how the patches in their wings, which are see through, glittered and reflected light through them, making Crystal often move around to see what they could get them to do, and the introduction of dancing was something they latched onto as a result. They are one of the hardest of the siblings to get angry, upset or rile up, and often goes with the flow and speaks in a slow and soft voice. Because of their kind nature and beautiful display of their wings, Crystal has attracted many others who are interested in them, many falling for them after meeting Crystal for a mere minute, though they tend to pretend not to notice, and turn down those who ask. -Orion (Orange)- Having an eye for art, Orion is a skilled painter and drawer, while also dabbling into other art forms to create things, their room filled with their works of art, and often creating gifts for others. From when they were little, Orion has always admired their auntie Gwen, and are always keen and eager to hang out with her when she visits, showing every new drawing and painting they have made while she was away. In fact their fondness for auntie Gwen is why they picked the orange bandana, as it reminded them of her hair. -Neva (Green)- Fashion focused and head strong, Neva is a keen one, who knows exactly what they like and isn't afraid to say it. They love designing things to wear, especially since fashion isn't that big on Kylmyys, and Ben brings them fabrics and items they request from earth whenever he comes by on a visit. Though, despite Neva's expensive tastes, they are most certainly aren't a snob, and more often than not create outfits and accessories for others that Neva knows they'd like, and wants to bring out the best beauty in them. Though admittedly, they can get a bit carried away if someone asks for fashion advice, or even brings up the idea of something related to it. Neva also a bit of a business mind too, having gotten some clients recently on their homeworld after seeing what Neva could make. -Raine (Aqua)- A very sweet young one, Raine has a keen eye for collecting things, particularly shiny or unknown stuff. From gemstones to simple earth utensil, if something interests them, Raine is known to take it with them, sometimes snatching without thinking. They don't mean any harm, and just sometimes think before acting, and will give something back if they've realized what they've done, but if it's clear they can keep it, then they aren't one to share, though do like to show off what they have with joy. They are also very well organized, knowing where everything they own is, and even when their siblings misplace something, having a photography memory and mental list of things. They may own a lot of stuff, but that doesn't mean they want to live in a pigsty. -Vale (Yellow)- Being one of the quiet ones, Vale likes to keep a lot to themself, and don't speak very often, only when they need to. They spend a lot of time outside, observing nature as it passes by them, using a little diary to note down what they see, hear, feel, smell and even taste. They like to appreciate silence and the world around them, and the beauty of nature, and collect little things to store away in their diary as memory. Whenever they visit earth, they love to visit the forests in the spring and summer, seeing the range of colours blooming from flowers, and has many flower prints because of this. -Lux (Beige)- Quite the basic of people, Lux likes to live life in a simple way, and tends to try and stare clear of any chaos, which is quite hard when you have 13 wild siblings. Because of them, they can come across as annoyed and frustrated at times, and can be blunt and honest, but they do love their siblings, and is often the one that says what's needed to be said. Lux also have massive wings compared to their body, a ratio none of the others have, and use to trip over their feet a lot growing up. Now, their massive wings are a great way to hide away when they're not in the mood to talk to read a book, or to hug a family member when seeing them down. -Micha (Pink)- Bubbly and sneaky, Micha has been dubbed the "Pink Ninja" for a reason, someone almost always able to hide away and sneak up on others. They love to jump scare people, and has found more and more crafty ways to get around without being noticed, even without their ability to go invisible. They love to pull jokes and get a laugh out of people, and Micha is known to have a snort with their own laughter. It's always their mission to catch Ben off guard when he visits, as each time it gets trickier due to him knowing it's coming, and his training and skills build up over the years, but Micha always finds a way in the end. -Zodiac (Gold)- Patient and often neutral toned, Zodiac is often seen to be pretty wise. From a young age, they've always loved stories from history, especially those about myths and legends they hear from around the galaxy, and spend a lot of their time reading and researching anything they hear about, always keen to hear a new story they may have never heard about before. It always fascinates them how much Ben has seen and done, and the stories he tells, Zodiac is practically fond of those about Alien X and Celestialsapians, and wants to meet one one day. -Alaska (White)- High on energy 99% of the time, Alaska is always zooming around and never has time to stop. They rarely sit still for long, and it takes a lot to drain them of their endless energy, always moving in a blink of an eye. Because of this, Alaska is the fastest of the crew, which has come in handy often. But they can be easily bored, and a little frustrating to deal with when they don't pay attention, but they do like to spend that energy by jumping around each sibling to spend the day with, and wants to engage in all of their activities to support them. -Arlo (Purple- The smallest of them, Arlo was born the runt of the group, but thanks to their siblings, especially North, they managed to survive childhood when most other necrofriggian runts would have died. This makes Arlo the baby of the group, and the one they all want to protect, even if it can be a little baring at much, wanting to prove they can be strong on their own. And Arlo somewhat got their wish, when reaching a certain age and Ben learning that one of his children had the spark, thus meaning Arlo is an Anodite, and is able to use magic, though they're far from being perfect at it, and their small body sometimes struggles to keep up. But each day Arlo practices, wanting to feel more than just the tiny one, but they are generally kind and great with emotions, being very supportive and just trying their hardest.

[ozziverse]

I've been procrastinating on art so instead have a DreamSMP Characters Headcanon post! Just a ton of absolutely random headcanons for these characters B), and a few including some design hcs i have, so here goes:

Because he should technically classify as a mob, Ranboo has a very loose grip on human customs (similar to Charlie but not as bad), and is fairly animalistic in some senses, he purrs like when he's happy and will fetch anything thrown. He also does the cat thing where they rub their head on things they like. Because he speaks Ender as his first language, he forgets the english word for things a lot and has to vaguely describe them. He has a hard time interacting with others and making eye contact because of his enderman genes and tends to fidget with his ring and suit pins to help him with it

I hc Tubbo as half-goat and so he headbutts stuff a lot and very often gets his horns stuck in shit and needs help getting them out. He makes small contraptions for fun and really enjoys redstone creations. He has a vase in his house where he puts every flower Ranboo gives him in it. He likes to blow things up because it gives him a feeling of control over the thing that was once used against him.

Tommy enjoys doing art therapy with Puffy and draws out his issues because it's easier to convey than through words. He has low patience and high anger but likes hanging around Ranboo because they're much calmer than him and it helps keep him calm too. He has a lot of battle scars that he tends to hide, but he knows the story for each and every one and finds comfort in explaining them to Puffy in therapy. He has a nickname for everyone, whether he likes them or not, and he rlly likes coming up with them.

Wilbur has trouble breathing now that he's revived as a result of his smoking habits in pogtopia, but he refuses to admit it. He has multiple ear piercings and refuses to explain when he got them and who did them.

Foolish builds for fun and for comfort because it takes his mind off of the past. He's not very informed on the history of the dreamSMP and has a lot of misconceptions about what happened but it's very silly ones. He's lactose intolerant and i won't explain why i believe that. He absolutely hates round shapes and has a perfectionist eye, he will point out all flaws in a building.

Jack has heterochromia, he originally had blue eyes and wore the 3D glasses but after crawling out of hell one of his eyes became red as a representation of hell and a reminder of what happened, though he just thinks it looks cool. He enjoys having power over things, such as owning the hotel, because it makes him feel seen and liked. He has a weird dislike for most american-style food and refuses to eat it because it's made differently to how he would make it. He refuses to wear anything that's not baggy, even his detective suit is a bit big.

Puffy originally had brown hair and dyed half of it because it looked "aesthetically pleasing", almost all of her outfits incorporate pirate-style fashion, such as ruffled sleeves and corsets. She likes to wrap vines and flowers around her horns because she things it looks pretty

Eret has a similar fashion sense to Puffy, just slightly less pirat-ey, so they borrow some of her clothes sometimes if they fit, or gets the same clothes in their size. They prefer to wear skirts and dresses because the flowy fabric is more comfortable for them. Red is one of their favourite colours so most of their outfits incorporate red into them in some way.

Karl absolutely owns those bowling-alley-floor print shirts and bright painted-on jeans and overalls. He has a lot of different watches because having the time keeps him grounded. He always carries a small notepad of important things to remember on it, but ironically forgets to read it a lot. He still owns all the outfits from the different places and time periods he visited, but he doesn't like to wear them much.

Okay that's all i'm doing today i'll probably do more later on lmao

[shizukateal]

Hello, it’s me, Anon. The one who did the Mami Tomoe upgrade sketch has now returned with a sketch of what I think Madoka would look older/upgraded at least what I think she would appear if she aged or got stronger. So here, I added colours along with some pictures and references so it’d be more easier and informative for me to explain what I done for this design. First is Madoka’s hair, it’s longer being tied up in pigtails by red ribbons instead of pink. The dress Madoka wears here has less ribbons and only keeping some on her attire like her shoes and front but red. Second, her Soul Gem is attached to her choker than stuck on the chest. Next key difference I want to note is how I basically merged Madoka’s Magical Girl fit along with her other fit in the Concept Movie trailer. I tried to replicate both styles into one and it may come off as fanservicey because of how I wanted to make her look older. The short gloves has been extended and made longer with the frills being the same as the ones on her shoulder puffs. The button design on her torso has been trimmed and shortened.

The skirt has more of a different style where the white puff is covered by the pink fabric which has been shaped to resemble angel wings and it has a dress tail at the back with a red ribbon tied around her waist with a ribbon at the back. Finally, her legs are covered by white leggings to make Madoka look modest as possible and you can argue this takes away what made Madoka’s fairytale aesthetic look great and I’m sorry if this is an utter disappointment. Lastly, her Mary Jane shoes have changed slightly, removing the cross straps on her feet, only leaving a strap around her ankle and the ribbon that was on the back of her heels have been added on the front of the shoes but smaller. So yeah, this was what I done for a sketch of Madoka Kaname as an older/upgraded Magical Girl. You may like or dislike some of my aesthetic choices and I respect whatever you say in due time. Thank you.

Answer: Hello again, Anon, sorry for the delay. As you can see, I'm still not allowed to directly answer submissions. Thanks for coloring the drawing, this will make things easier.

The idea of combining both iterations of the dress can work out, and I like what you're trying to do here, but you also gotta keep in mind what makes both outfits work first.

If you're going to make the gloves that long don't add the exact same frills, they create this weird contradiction when placed under the ones of the sleeves. Even if you turn them down the fact that they look the same as the ones in the sleeves still creates this sense of disjointed deja-vú -for lack of a better term-. The red lining on the movie dress work precisely because they contrast appropriately. And if you're going to add that tail make it start from the waist, not the hips, starting it from that low will make it look heavy and pointless. Remember to make it puff around where it cinches too! The red waist ribbon is also debatable, but lets keep it for now to give it a chance. Also, the pendant soulgem makes the choker and the ribbon compete, that's why the movie version puts it on the chest and the tv outfit doesn't have a ribbon on the chest. You seem to have reduced the space of the yellow part of the corset as well, but if you're going to lengthen the hair I would keep it around the same width as the original, because that would prevent the pink of the hair and top from melting into eachother and making a confusing spot of the same color. Same thing happens with the stockings and underskirt, but I'm not telling you to discard that idea just yet, there's a variety of easy-fix solutions, you just have to find the best one that also works with the rest of the outfit. I do like the shoes, but without the mid laces it, once again, creates an awkward white spot that makes the stockings boring. You don't need to add those back, you just need to find a way to take care of that problem.

In summary, don't get discouraged! You have something interesting going on here.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Understanding the Human World Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Phone call between Victor and Goldman before the date: here

Candlelit Night Collection: Gavin // Kiro // Lucien

Trivia regarding the name of the date:

The date is called 遍阅人间色, which is loosely translated as “reading the colours of the human world”

This could be reference to a quote from 菜根谭 (Cai Gen Tan), a book written by a Ming Dynasty scholar and philosopher Hong Zichen

The full quote is: 阅遍人情, 始知疏狂之足贵; 备尝世味,方知淡泊之为真

A possible interpretation of it is: After experiencing all the things in the world, you will realise that ordinariness is the best

-

[ CHAPTER ONE ]

The date begins with MC, Anna and Kiki in the office, commenting on the work of her new intern (whose name is Wei Wei)

When the intern first started, her work was of horrifying quality. However, she has improved by leaps and bounds since then

The topic shifts to MC, and they comment that under Victor’s influence, she has become much more independent

MC receives an email from Victor at around 7pm telling her to amend parts of her proposal, so she stays behind

By the time she tidies up her materials, it’s already 9pm. She hears someone entering the office - Wei Wei returned to finish her work

MC is stunned by her work ethic and tells her to Relax™

But Wei Wei looks troubled and asks:

Wei Wei: Boss, would you feel upset if you fall for someone who is very bright and out of reach? 

MC: Huh?

Wei Wei: I’m such a mediocre, normal, and plain person. It’s only when I don’t sleep, don’t rest, and keep running forward that I can catch up with him.

I seem to comprehend, yet not comprehend at the same time.

Wei Wei: No matter what, I have to keep running forward!

Victor calls and says he’d pick her up

MC has a sudden realisation - Wei Wei’s fast improvement happened after her visit to LFG with MC... 👀

-

[ CHAPTER TWO ]

All of a sudden, Victor informs her of his agreement to be a cameo in a short film which would be shot overseas by a guy called Ronan, and that they’re flying the next day

MC wonders who exactly Film Director Ronan is for Victor to just readily accept the role, but Victor doesn’t respond

When they arrive, MC is surprised to see that Director Ronan is a tall and slim, curly-haired young foreigner

MC: Nice to meet you, Director Ronan. I’m MC. 

With a cheery smile, Ronan shakes my hand.

Ronan: Hello, bride-to-be.

I turn towards Victor confusedly.

Victor: Did you not hear a single word of what we were talking about just now?

MC: Of course not! You were both talking about... wedding attires, exchanging of wine cups... I understand that, but... I’m also acting?

Perhaps I look overly lost. Victor doesn’t even say that I’m stupid, but there’s a look of resignation implied in his glance. 

MC: So this is what you meant earlier when you said I should prepare... I see...

After half an hour, I finally understand the situation completely. 

Ronan is a very old friend of Victor. Even though he’s young, he is a famous film director in France, and has won numerous international prizes. 

He’s currently on a long vacation, and is planning to prepare a short film. In it, he will convey his attitude towards love through the use of various cultures’ wedding customs. 

The first stop for collecting materials is in China. 

Ronan: It’s called Devotion, and will be my first non-fiction work. I hope it can be presented in a beautiful and well-designed form to convey genuine and believable emotions. 

MC states that if she has the chance, she’d also want to go to different corners of the world to film

Victor responds with his usual remarks - “are you done with your report?”

Ronan laughs softly, revealing an intrigued expression. 

He walks to me and bends down, meeting my eyes and giving me a wide grin. 

Ronan: MC, Victor has a lot of little secrets. If you want to know anything, I can tell you.

At that moment, I feel as though I’m standing in front of a big mine, treasures laid out before me. I have no idea where to begin digging.

Victor: Why am I unaware that I have a lot of secrets? 

Ronan gives him a light sweeping glance. Then, he raises his voice. 

Ronan: I can tell you that many girls want to know his phone number. 

MC: Eh? 

-

[ CHAPTER THREE ]

While the staff help with her outfit and makeup, she overhears their conversion:

Makeup artist: Is that Victor? 

Costume staff: He looks even better in person than on television. No wonder he’s so popular. 

Makeup artist: You like his type? 

Costume staff: Difficult to say. It’s easier to be with someone who’s a little better than a regular human, or someone who’s just two points better. For someone like him, who’s akin to the stars hanging up in the sky... liking him is futile. 

I mull over these words, and several images flash across my mind, finally pausing at Wei Wei’s unbending expression. 

-

MC enters the filming location and sees Victor, who’s looking at his script.

Sensing my gaze, Victor sets down the script in his hands and walks towards me. After looking me up and down, he finally gives a positive evaluation. 

Victor: Not bad. 

Sensing the glances of the staff members, I touch the hair accessories in my hair. A little embarrassed, I look around for the director. 

MC: [blushing] Are we filming soon? Where’s Ronan?  

Ronan: Here!

Without realising it, Ronan is standing behind me, a stunned look in his eyes. 

Ronan: The Chinese wedding attire is so beautiful! We’ll go with what I mentioned just now. Don’t be nervous. The two of you just need to relax a little more, and I’ll be able to capture the best shots. 

They begin filming. MC feels nervous, and strikes up a conversation with Victor

MC: Victor, don’t you think we’re always pretending to get married? 

I’m unsure if Victor is pretending not to hear me, but he has no reaction at all.

MC: Victor, look at the moon tonight. It’s so round!

Victor: Mm.

MC: ...

After confirming that Victor is ignoring me on purpose, I change the topic.  

MC: Victor, after you left the makeup room, Ronan came over and told me a lot of your secrets!

Victor: Did he tell you that many women want my phone number? 

MC: Huh? No!

Victor smiles lightly, then meets my eyes. 

Victor: Continue.  

MC: He told me a story about close friends. 

Victor arches his brows slightly, as though he already knows what I’m about to say. 

MC: I heard that when LFG first started, a director with nothing to his name came looking for an investment. He boldly promised that his work would win a grand prize. The young CEO, with his good tastes, decisively invested after seeing his work. Afterwards, this work won a grand prize, and even three international prizes. Overnight, LFG became reputable in the industry. If that’s the case, he must be a close friend of yours. Why have you never mentioned him?

Victor: We have a good relationship, so there’s nothing to bring up. Also, we haven't met in three years.  

MC: Three years?!

Victor: He’s busy with a lot of things. I am too.

Victor says this in an ordinary manner, but I hear the most moving overtones.

MC: But you dropped all your work the moment he called and asked you to film?

Victor: Encounters between people are very short-lived. The next time we meet, it might not just be three years later. 

His tone is light, as though he’s talking about a normal matter. Yet, it’s as though I’m seeing pages with “The End” written on them. If the page is flipped once more, the book would close completely. 

I suddenly think of many people in my life. People who were once close to me - people who had walked through many seasons with me - and how they silently left at some point in time.

Sometimes, I didn’t even realise that after waving goodbye to certain people, it would be the last time I would ever see them again. 

Noticing that I haven’t spoken in a while, Victor speaks in a softer voice.

Victor: What are you thinking about?  

MC: There are many important people I don’t want to only share short-lived encounters with. 

Victor: For example? 

MC: For example, you.

I answer without thinking, and without a second of hesitation. Even Victor pauses for a while after hearing my response. 

Victor: MC, do you know the meaning of Hejin wine? 

[Trivia: Hejin wine is also known as “The Wedlock Wine”]

For some reason, he changes the subject. He holds up the two wine cups in front of us. 

Victor: “Jin” is a kind of gourd. It tastes very bitter, and is split into two halves and added to the wine. When the bride and the groom drink it together, it becomes Hejin wine. The meaning behind it is - you and I are originally one body. Whether it’s in joy or sorrow, or bitter of sweet times, we will go through it together. 

While Victor speaks, he draws closer to me, placing one of the wine cups in my hand. 

Victor: On this earth, there will be one person who will drink the same cup of wine together with you, and will experience the same taste as you. Other people will leave, but he wouldn’t. If you want to wait for other people to return, he will accompany you in waiting. This is the meaning of Hejin.

The red silk and the colour of his clothes blend together. The overwhelming colour of red envelops me.

The dazzling red candles are reflected in his pupils, and within them holds my dumbfounded expression. 

In this pair of eyes, I see the world’s vastest tenderness. 

Victor: I promise you. I will always be with you.

-

[ CHAPTER THREE: Extras ]

After Ronan is more-or-less done with filming, MC just chills outside

She tells Victor how she feels sad about not taking sufficient photos of themselves in their gorgeous attire

Victor: What other photos do you want to take?

MC: I want to pictures of the palanquin, pictures of the firecrackers, and kowtowing!

[Trivia: MC is referring to traditional Chinese wedding processions]

Victor: There isn’t a palanquin, and the firecrackers have already been set off earlier. If you still want to act, there’s only the kowtowing left. 

I cast a glance towards the inner hall, slightly embarrassed. 

They get into position :’)

MC: A bow to the heaven and the earth--

With the heaven, the earth and the cosmos as my witness, being able to meet you among the vast sea of people is already the best encounter in my life. 

MC: A bow to the parents--

The parents witness the girl, who used to fall a lot when she was younger, grow up. In the years she spent growing up, she finally found someone to entrust her entire self to.

I turn my body slowly. For a moment, I don’t know what expression to have on my face, so I lower my head. 

Victor: A bow to each other. Both witnessing the rest of our lives...

Victor speaks in a deep, unhurried voice. But he stops suddenly.

The mist-like moonlight seems to cage him in a thin and light dream.

MC: What? 

He leans over and whispers into my ear. Every sound is immersed in the night, dim and inviting. 

The familiar aroma of wood is in his breaths, mixed together with the cooling night breeze. I wonder if I should follow my instincts and sink into it, or wake up.

Victor: I’ll tell you next time. 

-

[ CHAPTER FOUR ]

After the filming, Ronan sends MC and Victor to the hotel to rest, but tells them not to change out of their outfits just in case he needs to re-film certain segments

MC actually has no idea when Ronan started filming, or how the film is going to turn out. She only knows that it started the moment Victor lifted up the wine cup

Ronan just told her to keep looking at Victor with fascination in her eyes

MC: Victor...

Victor: Mm?

MC: Don’t you find “Devotion”, the name Ronan gave the film, very appropriate? I once read a poem where the poet used this word to describe the adoration between lovers. It’s a... similar feeling to having faith in each other. Even though two people are already extremely intimate, the ties between a desire for the other person and feelings which are as deep as the sea... they push one forward.

Victor is making tea. After hearing my serious interpretation, he tastes my words carefully. 

Victor: Not a bad insight. 

MC: But...

Victor: But what? 

MC: Victor, do you know that you make people feel like you’re out of reach? 

Victor: What do you mean? 

MC: Something like... always hanging up in the sky brightly and brilliantly, and no one can possibly pluck the stars. Or the feeling of unattainability... You’re smart, strong, and can deal with anything calmly and properly. You give the impression that nothing is too difficult for you. You’re always decisive, wise, having an opinion and having goals. Unlike me...

The more I speak, the more I feel the words don’t match what I intend to say. After struggling for a while, I decide not to continue. 

I thought Victor would feel at a loss in response to my sudden lament and random conversation topic. However, his expression is unexpectedly calm. 

After a short moment of silence, he lets out a light “mm”. He carries two tea cups and walks over, sitting down on the chair opposite me.

Victor: If you want to say something, say it directly. I’m listening. 

I hold my chin. Steam from the two tea cups drift towards his eyebrows. Even before I start talking, I’m already unable to suppress a smile.

MC: I kind of... admit that I’m a dummy.

Victor: ...

Victor lets out a laugh. I seldom hear such bright laughter from him.

I’m unsure if he’s laughing at my display of self-awareness, or because he’s happy that I complimented him. After a pause, he lets out a light sigh. 

Victor: What nonsense do you think about the entire day?

MC: It’s not ‘nonsense’, it’s...

The words are lodged at my throat halfway, and I’m unable to find an appropriate adjective even after a long time. Meeting Victor’s patient expression, I find myself at a greater loss for words.

Seeing that I’m speechless, Victor unhurriedly brings up the topic again.

Victor: MC, does Ronan make you feel like he’s out of reach? 

MC: Huh? 

I can’t find the main point of his words, so I simply go along with his line of thought. After thinking for a while, I shake my head. 

MC: But I only just met him...

Victor: At his young age, he is already a world-renowned director. He outpaces others within the industry, and there are many people who are envious of his natural talent. He is very good in his field - even better than me. 

MC: But...

Victor: Don’t you think so? 

I want to refute him, but he’s actually not wrong.

In the long silence that follows, I rub my fingers against the smooth, porcelain surface of the teacup, slowly taking in the implication in his words. 

I see a streak of light in the entire Milky Way.

Victor: In the future, you’ll see an even broader world, and meet even more great people. At that time, you may think that Victor is actually just an ordinary person.

MC: ...huh?

Still immersed in my thoughts, I’m unsure if I misheard.

MC: What did you just say? Victor is just an ordinary person?

In the next few seconds, I even think of the title of the next proposal - The Ordinary Victor. 

Sub-title: How the legendary CEO of a huge business empire re-defines what it means to be an ordinary person.

Victor sips his tea, putting an end to the conversation

MC: Victor, do you still remember how I went to Venice to participate in a photography exhibition? 

Victor: I remember. It was in September. 

MC: Since young, I’ve always wanted to go to Venice because of movies and stories. So when I was booking the tickets, my whole brain was thinking about the fun things to do once I got there. But on the third day in Venice, I felt like coming back. I kept feeling that being alone overseas, so far away from you, resulted in something being missing in my happiness. It was only when the plane landed and I returned to the familiar streets that this uneasiness finally disappeared. Did you know that... when I got off the car, I smelt a strong scent of osmanthus. I dragged my suitcase looking for osmanthus trees, thinking... “I wonder if Victor knows how to bake osmanthus cakes!”

[Trivia: Osmanthus is a traditional symbol of true love and faithfulness, and is used in old wedding customs, where the bride would bring it to her new family. It also means “giving birth to noble children” 👀]

Victor lets out a laugh, relaxing his posture and leaning against the back of the chair.

Victor: Why didn’t you ask me to bake an osmanthus cake?  

MC: I wanted you to see me in a different light, so I tried it myself while referring to an osmanthus cake recipe. After that... it wasn’t successful. Didn’t I make you steamed pumpkin with osmanthus? You even said it wasn’t unpalatable and that I improved!

Victor thinks for a while, as though grasping around his memory for a trivial moment. The smile which has been on his face this whole time reveals slight hesitance.

Victor: I thought you just made that dish for fun.

MC: That’s not wrong...

Victor doesn’t continue. There were many times I thought he’d definitely call me a dummy, but he didn’t.

He reaches out and interlaces our fingers together.

He holds them lightly, leaving space between his warm palm and my fingertips. 

Victor: You’ve already plucked the star. Aren’t you going to hold it more tightly? 

MC: Huh? 

Slightly overwhelmed, I look at our interlaced fingers. Tentatively, I gather my five fingers together. 

I imagine how my fingertips touch the lines on his palm. I imagine every fragment of time we spent together turning into speckles of bright light, filling up the entire world. 

But Victor probably found that I was too slow. 

He unfurls his five fingers, then wraps my hand tightly into his palm. 

Victor: Remember - when you meet anyone, there’s no need to feel that you’re not enough. You have your own uniqueness, and it’s just as precious. 

I look towards him, seeming to understand his words. I nod my head out of habit, but it’s a more serious nod than usual. 

At this moment, a phone notification chime resounds in the quiet room. Victor takes up his phone and gives it a look. 

Victor: Ronan says he has completed shooting today’s materials, and there aren’t any issues. We can change out of our outfits. 

-

After she’s done changing in the bathroom, she sees the glorious sight of Victor setting the candles alight

[Trivia: On the night of traditional Chinese weddings, the newlyweds will set candles alight in front of the bed. The light of the candles are meant to symbolise a long-lasting love]

Victor: Are you done changing?

-

[ CHAPTER FIVE ]

While Victor changes out of his clothes, MC muses about how she can’t bear to part with the wedding attire. Ronan could only borrow it for two days, which is why Victor had to rush over

MC takes several pictures of the wedding attire on her phone from different angles

She puts on the veil, but since she can’t see properly through it, she can’t take her ideal photos

Frustrated, she’s about to throw her phone onto the sofa when someone grabs her arm

Victor: Why are you barefoot? 

MC: It’s fine...

Before I finish talking, Victor lifts me up. The sudden weightlessness causes me to hurriedly wrap my arms around him.

At such a close distance, I can clearly smell the moisture on the side of his neck.

He places me onto the large bed in the room.

I reach out to remove the veil, but he stops me. 

Victor: What kind of bride takes off her own veil? 

I only see a patch of red in my vision. Because of this, every word entering my ears is made even clearer. 

His undulating breathing and the tenderness in his dull voice enter my heart more directly than before. I find myself feeling nervous.

MC: Oh right-

Seeing me straighten up after remembering something, Victor lets out a sigh of resignation. 

Victor: Aren’t you tired after a whole day of tossing about? You’re still so easily startled...

MC: I remember Ronan mentioning that his plane is leaving tomorrow too. Once he leaves, it could really be several years later till you two meet again. Do you want to change the flight to a later slot so you can send him off? 

Victor: Sure.

Despite a slight pause, Victor’s answer does not contain any hesitation. His words seem to conceal a smile. 

Victor: Why did you suddenly think of this?

MC: It wasn’t sudden. You’re always not saying what you mean. I was afraid you would pretend it doesn’t bother you. When it comes to important people, you have to welcome them when they arrive, and send them off when they leave. Through these interactions, the fate between you two can be sustained for longer. 

Victor: Mm. 

His slender and long fingers hold onto one corner of my veil. Following his movements, my vision slowly returns. 

First, I see his black shirt. Then, every button on it. After that, his slightly trembling Adam’s apple, and his clean chin. 

Finally, I meet his gaze, which is even deeper than the sun, moon, and stars. 

MC: Victor, could you teach me how to bake an osmanthus cake when we get back? A green bean cake, jujube cake, or a peanut cake will do too. 

Victor: Do you really want me to teach you, or do you just suddenly feel like eating them?

MC: Both are fine, they aren’t mutually exclusive. 

Victor reaches out and gently pulls me into his arms. A familiar warmth seeps through his thin shirt. My eyes drift shut, and I press the side of my face against his scorching neck.

Actually...

To me, just the word “Victor” already holds great meaning to me. 

He is the very first ray of light to appear at the beginning of the world. 

He is the ray of light that appeared when God said, “let there be light.”

I grasp his hand tightly. I hold it very, very tightly. As though I will never let go. 

-

At 3pm the next day, Ronan’s plane takes flight. 

His next stop is Southeast Asia, then South Asia, then Europe, the North America... 

The next time we meet, he would have explored the entire globe, taking beautiful pictures that cause people to marvel at them.

Victor: Although it was delayed by two days, the deadline for the proposal is still the same. I hope to see improvements in your third amendment by this Friday.

MC: ...

Goldman: CEO!

Goldman and Wei Wei are at the airport to fetch them 

Wei Wei looks really anxious 👀

MC asks what Wei Wei is doing here, and the latter responds that there are urgent documents requiring MC’s signature 

But MC remembers Anna mentioning that those documents aren’t urgent 👀

Wei Wei drops her pen accidentally, and her pearl bracelet suddenly snaps while she tries to pick it up 

The pearls roll onto the ground 

Before MC can step in to help, Goldman uses his file to stop the pearls from rolling away even further 👀

Wei Wei’s cheeks are red, and she stares at Goldman with a look of anticipation in her eyes.

MC: I see...

It turns out that the sky every person looks towards is different.

Encounters with people are short-lived. The stars in the universe have their own tracks, so if you lift your head and find an exceptionally bright star--

Pick up your feet and chase after him. 

Don’t sleep, don’t rest, and keep running forward!

Till you can hold onto his hand, and drink a cup of bitterness and sweetness - the hundred flavours of life - together with him.

Victor, who is walking in front, stops and turns his head to look at me. 

Victor: Why are you just standing there looking silly? They’re catching up soon.

I can’t help but laugh. Our gazes meet. 

Perhaps the smile on my face looks silly. Victor lets out a soft sigh, turning his body towards me halfway, as though waiting for me. 

I no longer hesitate, taking large strides in Victor’s direction-

And running forward!

-

🍒 Cheri’s thoughts 🍒

That was a somewhat awkward ending LOL

The Goldman x Wei Wei ship... T^T

Reading Victor’s Colours of Rain Date after this is highly recommended. It makes reference to this date, and also shows the other extreme - what happens if you keep pushing yourself and maintaining a strong front

[tsarisfanfiction]

Long Way From Home: Chapter 13

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Look what’s back again!  I’ve got another three chapters written now, so that’s approximately three weeks’ worth of content coming along (provided I remember to post!)  Sorry for the delay on this one, TOS!Scott and TOS!Virgil decided to be rather tricksy, but I finally got them wrangled!

<<<Chapter 12

Other-Virgil was just leaving his room as they turned the corner, a sketchbook in hand.

“Oh, hello there,” he said.  Scott didn’t miss how his eyes flicked to his brother for a moment.  “Successful trip?”

Scott shrugged, spreading his arms slightly to show that he wasn’t wearing Other-Scott’s clothes any more.  “Successful enough,” he said.  “There’s more on order, but we managed to find some things to bring back with us now.”

Brown eyes, painfully familiar and just like Virgil’s, glanced over his outfit.  He didn’t comment, but it was obvious that like Other-Scott, Other-Virgil found his idea of casual clothes to be different.

Well, at least it meant no-one was going to be muddling them up any time soon.

“That’s good to hear,” the man said, glancing towards his brother again. Scott glanced across as well, wondering if Other-Scott was sending him any cues.  His doppelgänger seemed quite content to stay out of the conversation, although he likewise wasn’t leaving them to it and carrying on to the games room without Scott.  “Tin-Tin said I should talk to you,” Other-Virgil continued.  “She said something about appearances?”

His voice raised questioningly at the end and Scott recalled Other-Gordon making a similar suggestion back while the others had been out on the rescue.

“Appearances?” Other-Scott asked.  “What does she mean by that?”

Scott sighed, realising that he hadn’t mentioned to the others about the different appearances yet, and rubbed his face with one hand.

“My brothers don’t look like yours,” he explained.  “Not as much as we look alike, anyway.”

“They don’t?” Other-Scott asked.  “That’s strange.”

“Tell me about it,” Scott agreed.  “Gordon – your Gordon – suggested I talk to you about it,” he continued, nodding at Other-Virgil.  “I guess Tin-Tin got there first.”

“Not ‘our’ Tin-Tin?” Other-Scott jumped in.  “You differentiate the fellas, but not her?”

Scott shrugged.  “I don’t call mine ‘Tin-Tin’,” he explained.  “We call mine Kayo.”

“Kayo?” Other-Virgil asked.  “That’s a mighty strange name.”

“You’d think her a strange woman,” Scott replied.  “I wouldn’t say she’s nothing like Tin-Tin, but the similarities are a lot more subtle than between you guys and my brothers.”

“Interesting,” Other-Scott commented.  “You’ll have to tell us about her.”

Scott chuckled, remembering Tin-Tin’s reaction to his attempts at describing his sister.  The men were likely to be even more horrified.  “At some point.”  He turned back to Other-Virgil.  “So, did you want to do this now?”

“Whenever works for you,” Other-Virgil said.  “If you’re busy with Scott now, we can do it later.”

“He was just coming to watch me remind Gordon which one of us is the billiards champion,” Other-Scott said.  “You’re welcome to join us if it won’t disturb your concentration.”

“I think I can draw with you two in the room.” Other-Virgil rolled his eyes. “It wouldn’t be the first time, if that’s okay with Scott?”

He found himself pinned with both blue and brown eyes and wondered if this was how Gordon and Alan felt when they were on the receiving end of him and Virgil. “Sounds good,” he agreed.  The idea of staying in the vicinity of Other-Gordon for a while longer, as he found his feet properly with the rest of this universe’s Tracy brothers, was a comforting one now that the younger man had fully proven himself on their semi-disaster of a shopping trip.  He wondered if Other-Scott suspected that – whether or not he did likely depended on what, exactly, Other-Gordon had told him down in the hangar.

“Come on, then,” Other-Scott said, leading the way along the hallways – Scott once again finding himself passing the door to the lounge and hoping Not-Dad wasn’t going to appear – and down the stairs.  “Laundry room’s here,” he said, pausing and sliding open a door.  “You can just put them in here and Kyrano or Grandma will deal with them.”

Scott padded into the room, glancing around at the contraptions that had to be washing machines, although just like everything else, they didn’t look much like the technology Scott was used to.  What was at least somewhat familiar was the splash of blue in an open wicker basket – while not identical to his own uniform, it was clearly this universe’s IR blue.  It was also smeared with dirt and clearly waiting to be washed, so he dropped Other-Scott’s borrowed clothes on top, fighting the inquisitive desire to get a closer look at the uniform.

Making sure that this universe’s International Rescue knew what they were looking for if any of his brothers had somehow also fallen through trumped his own curiosity and he retreated back into the hallway where Other-Scott and Other-Virgil were waiting for him, before they all entered the games room.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” Other-Gordon commented as the door slid open.  He had his back to them and seemed to be poking around with the balls.  “What took you so long?”

“I thought we’d like an audience,” Other-Scott shrugged, and Other-Gordon spun around.

“What did you do to prompt all this?” Other-Virgil asked him.  “You’ve not even been on the island for several hours.”

“Precisely,” Other-Scott said, striding forwards and selecting a cue from the wall, which he inspected carefully.  “Gordon, off the island for several hours and more or less unsupervised.”

“Not entirely unsupervised,” Other-Gordon protested, as Other-Virgil moved further into the room and settled in a chair by the chess set.  Taking the cue, Scott followed and sat himself in the other.  “If we didn’t already have Brains and John’s word that he’s you from another universe, I’d be suggesting it myself after that trip.”

Scott thought that was a bit of an exaggeration, considering how off-centre he’d been the entire time, but he appreciated the words regardless.

“Another me or not, that didn’t stop you telling the world you could – and did – beat me at billiards,” Other-Scott pointed out.  Other-Virgil choked back a laugh that showed just how unlikely that scenario was in reality.

Other-Gordon seemed entirely unrepentant about that, which didn’t surprise Scott in the slightest.  “We can always make that true now,” he said.  “Ready to play?”

In answer, Other-Scott headed for the table and scrutinised the balls his brother had been poking at.  Scott suspected he was checking for sabotage.

Other-Virgil rested his sketchbook on the table, drawing Scott’s attention away from the billiards table and towards the blank paper.

“How about age order?” the brown-haired man suggested. “Should we start with John?”

“Might as well,” Scott agreed, staring at the blank page and trying to find the words to explain just how his John differed from Other-John.  Without another word, Other-Virgil started to sketch. Scott blinked, not expecting him to begin before he’d started describing his brother, but it didn’t take long for him to realise that it was a sketch of Other-John that was forming on the paper, rough and ready to be amended.

Watching him was oddly relaxing – Scott had never been an artist himself, but he had memories of watching both parents and Virgil sketching throughout his life.  The sight and sound of graphite over artist’s paper was familiar, homey, and Scott propped his head on his palm and tried to focus more on what was being drawn than the emotions it was drawing up.

The background clack of ball hitting ball, and smug brotherly noises as Other-Scott presumably made good on his promise to teach Other-Gordon a lesson, helped him keep his mind in the present.  He glanced away from the rough sketch of Other-John to see Other-Scott grinning triumphantly at Other-Gordon as the two brothers set up a new game.  One victory for Other-Scott, it seemed.

“I thought it would be easier to start with a base,” Other-Virgil said suddenly, snapping Scott’s attention back to the now-complete sketch.  “Tin-Tin’s recounts of your descriptions suggest you’re just as bad as our Scott in that regard.”

“I have you for anything to do with art!” Other-Scott called over, and Scott grinned ruefully in agreement.

“He’s not wrong,” he shrugged.

Other-Virgil shook his head, and tapped the paper with a finger.  “We’ll get to colour later,” he said, “but what changes do I need to make to the sketch?”  He spun it around until Scott was looking at the sketch the right way up, and he squinted at it.

It was clearly John, but at the same time not.  The challenge was picking out what made it different to his brother, exactly.

“What do you mean, colour?” Other-Scott called across.

“I thought you were teaching Gordon a lesson?” Other-Virgil retorted.  “Keep getting distracted and he might be the one teaching you a lesson.”

Other-Scott chuckled, and then there was another clack as they started playing again.

“John’s… younger,” Scott settled on.  “Slightly less angular, maybe?”

Other-Virgil whisked the paper back around to face him and started changing lines. “How old?”

“Twenty-five,” Scott said, watching as the sharpest edges to the sketch were smoothed out slightly.  It was a good thing Other-Virgil, just like Virgil, was so artistically adept, because Scott knew his descriptions left a lot to be desired.  He really wasn’t an artist.

It was a long process, as Scott frowned at lines and Other-Virgil redrew and redrew them again.  He knew exactly what his immediate brother looked like, of course, but descriptions had never been his strong point.  Thankfully, Other-Virgil was patient and seemed to have expected Scott to be pretty terrible at them.

In the background, the clacking of balls hitting balls continued, complete with commentary and occasional brotherly snipes.  Scott wasn’t sure how many times they’d played by the time Other-Virgil finished his latest redraw of a line of John’s hair, and a lump formed suddenly in his throat.

“That’s him,” he said around it, trying to swallow it down before any of the other men in the room noticed.  “That’s John.”  Still in the grey and white of a sketch, his genius of a brother stared out of the paper at something in the distance, intent and determined.  It was a painfully familiar expression, one Scott saw most often on rescues, when his brother was amassing more data even as he talked him through what he already had.

A hand slammed down to cover the sketch and Scott blinked.

“Gee, really, Virg?” Other-Gordon quibbled from where he’d suddenly materialised right next to Scott.  Next to him, and peering over Other-Virgil’s shoulder, was Other-Scott.

“You fellas can see it once it’s coloured,” the artist said firmly.  “And not one moment before.  Go back to your game.”

Both brothers grumbled good-naturedly, but did as they were told and retreated back to the billiards table.  Other-Virgil pulled his hand back and looked up at him.

“I don’t have my colours here, so what do you say about doing all the sketches now, and then we’ll go to my room to sort out colours later?” he suggested.

Once again caught by the sketch of his brother, fiercely determined and no doubt wearing that exact face right now, wherever he was, Scott just nodded numbly.

It was gently tugged out of sight as Other-Virgil turned to a fresh page in his sketchbook and started drawing again.  This time, Scott was anticipating the appearance of Other-Virgil in graphite so it wasn’t a surprise when he formed out of lines of graphite on paper. The artist was clearly used to self-portraiture as the sketch was just as flawless as Other-John’s had been; it was almost a shame that he’d have to completely alter the hairstyle this time – Other-John’s wasn’t all too dissimilar to John’s, but the two Virgils appeared to have markedly different ideas on hairstyle.

Even before the sketch was presented to him, Scott reached across and tapped the brow.  “Same scar,” he said, noticing that Other-Virgil hadn’t bothered to add that in, presumably because he hadn’t expected something like a scar to carry across universes. It was a fair assumption, especially as Other-Gordon had already made an observation about how his own scars differed from Other-Scott’s, but in this particular case a wrong one.  Scott wondered if, like the hydrofoil, the cause was also the same.

Other-Virgil’s eyebrows raised, showing off his scar particularly well, but he dutifully added it in.

“Also younger?” he asked, and Scott eyed the paper critically.  The sketch was spun around so he could see it better, and he nodded his thanks.

“Twenty-three,” he confirmed.  “But don’t soften the cheekbones much.”  Other-Virgil made a noise of comprehension and took the paper back to begin the long process of amending it to Scott’s awkward specifications.  “And you might as well scrap the hair entirely,” he added.  Other-Virgil paused and gave him an incredulous look.

“There’s no similarity there at all?” he asked.  Scott shrugged and peered again.

“Maybe the hairline,” he allowed.  “But completely different hairstyle.”

He got a contemplative noise for that, but Other-Virgil dutifully erased most of the hair, leaving just enough to keep the head shape obvious, before following Scott’s instructions to amend the face shape until he was happy it was his Virgil, and not Other-Virgil looking out of the paper.

“However does he keep his hair like that?” Other-Virgil commented when they finally reached the hairstyle, the sweeping peak taking shape on the paper after several amendments as Scott tried to get it just right.

“By stealing my hair gel,” he replied dryly, “and short circuiting the entire island’s power with his hairdryer.”  Gordon was not the only one who remembered that incident well, even if Scott usually refrained from mentioning it – it wasn’t like he needed to, what with the squid bringing it up at every opportunity.  One day Virgil was going to make minced squid out of their brother, and it was probably going to have something to do with that incident. Probably.

Other-Scott chuckled, proving that he was still eavesdropping even as he continued to thrash Other-Gordon at billiards.  The younger man sounded like he was getting quite tired of being defeated, although he hadn’t yet begged off entirely.  Then again, Scott suspected Other-Scott wasn’t the only one using the game as a pretence in order to listen in.

Other-Virgil ignored them as he once again redid a line in Virgil’s hair, and Scott did likewise, although in his case it was mostly because Other-Virgil had once again taken his breath away with a likeness of one of his brothers. Unlike John, Virgil was looking straight at him, greyscale eyes still warm and the slightest bit concerned, mirrored in the set of his jaws.  It was another painfully familiar expression that Scott had found himself on the receiving end of many times.

“That’s him,” he said after a moment, once his lungs remembered what to do. Other-Virgil hummed and flicked the page over before the other two could make it over.

“Aww,” Other-Gordon protested when he realised.  “Not even one peek, Virg?”

“Once they’re coloured,” his brother said firmly, “and not one moment before.”

“But it’s his version of me next, right?” Other-Gordon whined.  “You gotta let me see that one, Virg!”

“Once they’re coloured,” Other-Virgil repeated.  “If it’s too much of a trial for you, I’m sure you can leave. Aren’t you tired of losing yet?”

Other-Scott laughed again from where he seemed to be setting up another game. “He still thinks he can beat me if we play enough times.”

“I will beat you,” Other-Gordon vowed, heading over to the table again.  “My turn to start.”

Other-Virgil rolled his eyes once the ginger had his back to them.  “Say, how about we skip Gordon and come back to him later?” he suggested, a gleam in his eyes that was all-too familiar.

“Virg!” came the complaint from the brother in question, and despite himself, Scott found himself grinning just a little, even if the familiarity of the banter ached.

“We can do Alan next,” he agreed, although something heavy and unpleasant settled in his stomach as he realised he wouldn’t be able to dodge just how young his Alan was for much longer.

Despite the words, it was still Other-Gordon that appeared from Other-Virgil’s pencil, and the artist grinned at him conspiratorially.  Scott returned it, although he was fairly sure it was weaker than it would normally be.  Other-Virgil didn’t comment, or even raise a concerned eyebrow, however, so he assumed he’d got away with it.

“Younger again?” Other-Virgil asked, and Scott nodded.  “Squarer jaw, but don’t soften the face,” he said.  “He’s all angles.”  Sharp cheekbones, sharp jaw, sharp wit.  There was a lot of sharpness with Gordon, although like all of them he was soft where it counted.  Squinting at the sketch as Other-Virgil made the amendments, Scott realised that while their eye colour was identical, one of the biggest differences to their faces was in fact the eye shape.

As with everything else, describing that was difficult, and Other-Virgil had to erase the same lines over and over again as between them, they tried to get it right.  Then, of course, it was the hair, and it was quickly apparent that Gordon – and Alan, when they got there – had a hairstyle that Other-Virgil struggled to even conceptualise in his head.  In this universe, it seemed that bangs always flopped down, not out.

“More hair gel?” the man asked, resigned, as he erased the lines of Gordon’s bangs for the umpteenth time.

“More hair gel,” Scott confirmed.  “The other one is similar, by the way.”

“I will get this,” Other-Virgil said, low and determined.  The stubbornness was just as familiar as everything else about his mannerisms.  So far, Scott was getting the impression that while he might be a little quieter than Virgil, Other-Virgil was otherwise almost the same in temperament.

“His Alan giving you trouble?” Other-Gordon called across.  Other-Virgil ignored him as, with a set jaw, he once again amended his lines.

“Almost,” Scott encouraged.  “That’s close.”

“I’m not settling for ‘close’,” Other-Virgil told him firmly.  “What’s still wrong?”

Scott surveyed the art critically, before pointing at a line.  “Here,” he said.  “Maybe loosen it up a little?”

Other-Virgil erased it and drew it again, and Scott found a familiar, fond smile creep onto his face.  “That’s him.”

Like Virgil, Gordon was looking straight out of the paper at them, full of mirth and a little cheeky, like he’d just set a prank and was waiting for someone to fall into it.  Unlike John and Virgil, who had both ended up drawn wearing expressions they’d wear on a mission, Gordon was all home comfort.

Scott decided not to think to hard about what their resulting expressions implied about his mental state.

Other-Virgil eyed it triumphantly for a moment, clearly basking in his success of finally nailing the unfamiliar hairstyle, before turning the page and starting to sketch out Other-Alan.

“Last one,” he said.  “He has a similar hairstyle to your Gordon, you say?”

“What?” Other-Gordon demanded from over by the table.  There hadn’t been any clacking of balls for some time, Scott realised, and he glanced over to see both brothers were leaning against the table, watching the pair of them from a distance.  “You mean that was your Gordon you just finished?”

Other-Virgil grinned at him.  “I’m doing his Alan now,” he said, and Other-Gordon whined dramatically. Other-Scott shifted his weight against the table slightly and rolled his eyes fondly.

“You should have known Virg would do that,” he said.  “And aren’t you the one that keeps saying Scott’s just like me?”

Other-Gordon grumbled.

“I didn’t expect that to mean he’d be able to fall in so seamlessly with one of Virgil’s schemes,” he huffed.

“Sorry,” Scott shrugged, entirely unrepentant.  Other-Gordon had spent enough time analysing him that catching him out felt a lot like a victory.  From the way amber eyes narrowed, the younger man was well aware of that.

“So,” Other-Virgil said, offering him a rough sketch of Other-Alan.  “How much younger do I need to go?”

Scott swallowed.  “Fifteen,” he said, and was entirely unsurprised when he saw Other-Scott jerk out of the corner of his eye.  “And you might want to make him a little more… smiley.”  Other-Virgil had drawn a neutral expression, which was at least less antagonistic than Scott had actually seen Other-Alan wearing so far, but for his Alan it just felt wrong.

“Younger and happier,” Other-Virgil repeated, taking the eraser to the sketch and all but redoing the entire outline.  “And with a Gordon-like hairstyle.”

What came out of his pencil the second time looked a lot closer, more like a base that Scott could make minor adjustments to than the initial sketch had done.

“He’s fifteen?” Other-Scott asked, and Scott braced himself for the upcoming explosion.  “He’s not a part of International Rescue yet, I assume.”

Scott didn’t answer him, watching Other-Virgil tidy up the sketch before pointing out a line that needed amending.

“He’s not part of International Rescue?” Other-Scott repeated after a few moments, disbelief colouring his voice.  “At fifteen?  He oughtn’t even have all the licenses by fifteen, surely?”

Scott sighed, and pointed out another line that needed changing.  “Alan’s been a fully fledged member of IR for a year,” he admitted.  “He’s got all the licenses he needs.”

“He’s what?” Other-Scott demanded.  Other-Virgil’s pencil stopped, and Scott found himself scrutinised by three pairs of eyes.  “But- how does a fourteen year old get an astronaut’s license?  You’re not telling me he’s Thunderbird Three’s primary pilot in your universe?”

“Youngest astronaut in history,” Scott said, letting the pride he always felt whenever he remembered that fact bleed into his voice and carefully keeping the accompanying panic back.  “John was primary pilot for a while, but he’s always been happiest in Thunderbird Five, and Thunderbird Five really needed a monitor.  Alan proved himself on the sims and we needed a pilot for Thunderbird Three.”

“You couldn’t do it?” Other-Scott asked.

Scott chuckled humourlessly, remembering the hollow guilt that had welled up inside whenever he’d even considered going to space without any of his brothers. That didn’t bear mentioning, however, and there was another, stricter, reason why it hadn’t been possible.  “I’m Alan’s legal guardian.  I couldn’t leave him to go off into space for days or weeks on rescues.”  Or an unknown amount of time in another universe, but he hadn’t had a choice on that front.

“So your solution was to send him off into space?” Other-Virgil asked dubiously, inadvertently cutting off what Scott suspected was about to be a too-accurate remark from Other-Gordon.  Scott shrugged.

“If he’s in orbit, it’s only a day and he’s in range of Thunderbird Five,” he said.  “If he’s leaving orbit, someone – usually me – goes with him.”

“Gee,” Other-Gordon whistled, apparently deciding to keep whatever observation he’d made to himself after all.  “Our Alan’s young enough to send out there.  I can’t imagine him piloting Thunderbird Three as a teenager.”

“He’s a natural,” Scott said, glancing down at the half-finished sketch, currently sitting somewhere between Alan and Other-Alan in appearance.  “If he couldn’t do it, I wouldn’t let him, no matter how old he was.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Other-Gordon said, emphatically enough that his brothers looked at him in surprise.  Other-Gordon didn’t acknowledge them, however, and Scott found himself under another heavy yet understanding look.  No doubt the other man was remembering their conversation in the car about limits.  “I said it before: I bet you’re just as much of a smother hen as this fella is.”  He jabbed a thumb in Other-Scott’s direction and got a lacklustre hey! of protest.  “I’m sure you do a swell job of looking after him.”

A hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped a little.  It was Other-Virgil, who was looking at him in some concern.  “Do you want to take five?” the man asked, gesturing at the half-finished sketch.  Scott shook his head.

“I’m good,” he said, peering at the paper again.  Other-Gordon made an aborted noise that could well have been resigned disapproval.  “His bangs go the other way.”

“You fellas have mighty different hairstyles,” Other-Virgil muttered, but dutifully began erasing the lines before pausing to shoo away his inquisitive brothers.  “Are you done teaching Gordon a lesson already, Scott?”

“Not at all,” the older man said.  “Come on, Gordon, if you still think you can win.”

“One day,” the ginger mumbled rebelliously, before moving back to the table to set up another game.  Both his brothers laughed, and Scott found himself joining in.

Alan proved almost as difficult as Gordon to get right, with Other-Virgil again finding the hair the most complicated to get right, but a couple more games behind them later, Scott’s youngest brother was beaming out of the paper at him, wide-eyed in adoration and looking even younger than he was.  It wasn’t the best expression for supporting his case that Alan was perfectly capable of handling a rocket and the responsibilities that came along with that, but it was quintessentially Alan in its essence nonetheless.

“That’s him,” he confirmed, and Other-Virgil surveyed the sketch for several moments in silence before his brothers once again tried their luck at seeing a completed sketch.

“I told you fellas,” Other-Virgil said firmly, closing the sketchbook against their curious glances.  “Not until they’re coloured.”

“Whatever you fellas are up to will have to wait.”  Scott’s eyes snapped to the doorway, where Other-Alan was standing, arms crossed and looking just as displeased as he had in every encounter he’d had with the young man so far.  “Kyrano’s finished making dinner, so it’s time to wash up.”

“Right you are, then,” Other-Virgil said.  “I’ll get these stowed in my room and we can finish after dinner?”  He offered the suggestion as a question to Scott, who saw no reason to disagree and nodded.

“Sounds good to me,” he said.

“What are you fellas doing, anyway?” Other-Alan asked suspiciously.

“It seems that we don’t look like his brothers, even though he might as well be Scott’s twin,” Other-Gordon explained, putting his cue in the wall holder. Other-Scott did the same, before stashing the balls away as well.  “Virgil’s drawing them for us so we know what we’re looking for just in case they fell through somewhere.”

“Didn’t John say they’d come through here if anywhere?” Other-Alan pointed out, still standing in the doorway and watching as his brothers tidied up. Scott found his way to his feet and waited for them to finish.

“Yes, but this is an unprecedented event, Alan,” Other-Virgil replied, walking over to him.  Scott followed.  “John’s still got Thunderbird Five looking out for them in case he’s wrong, and we’ll all be looking out as well.  It stands to reason we should know exactly who we’re looking for.”

“Well, I suppose,” the blond said.  Other-Virgil patted him on the shoulder a couple of times.

“Well, I’m off to put this in my room,” he said.  “I’ll be down for dinner in one minute.”  Then he left, leaving Scott standing with Other-Alan by the doorway, waiting for Other-Scott and Other-Gordon to finish packing up their game.

“So, what are you going to be doing until Brains and John find a way to get you home?” Other-Alan asked him.  “Are you just going to laze about the villa?”

Scott raised an eyebrow at him.  “Not if I have any say in the matter,” he said bluntly.  “I’m not a fan of lazing around.”

Other-Gordon choked back a laugh at that, and Scott narrowed his eyes at him.

“Use your head, Al,” the ginger interjected.  “We’ve got some of the best planes in the world here; you think the fella’s going to be content keeping his feet on the ground?  He took a fancy to your Tiger Moth down in the hangars ‘til I told him Scott’s not allowed to touch it.”

“I haven’t seen a Tiger Moth in years,” Scott defended himself.

“Yeah, well, you’re not touching her either,” Other-Alan told him firmly. “No Scotts are getting their hands on that baby.”

“We hear you, Alan,” Other-Scott said.  “Now, come along, fellas.  I, for one, don’t plan on being late to one of Kyrano’s feasts.”  He pushed past them and headed into the hallway.  His brothers and Scott followed, ducking into a small washroom to clean their hands before trailing through the kitchen to where the dining table was set up.

Chapter 14>>>

[megashadowdragon]

fgo theory is caster cu really odin 

comments : 

There is also the 10 bond CE for him being the Yggdrasil Tree, which is very Norse. (the fact he needs a bunch of Yggdrasil seeds may also be a bit of a hint.) Interestingly, the Wickerman festivals were held throughout Europe (Areas such as England and Scotland) and were regarded as a neo-pagan festivity. Chances are, if CasCu really is Odin, it is highly likely he will take action in the English Lostbelt second part. I think itd be really cool, but if that was the case itd be more likely Cu caster was a Cu-Odin fusion similar to Scathach-Skadi. We know its within Odin's ability to do a fusion like this due to how he did the same for Skadi. It also explains how caster cu retains the protection from arrows and disengage skills. It also makes more sense how he's kept his identity a secret, because it's not false that he is Cu.

www . reddit . com/r/grandorder/comments/lkw9xm/summary_of_the_caster_cu_chulainnodin_theory/

At absolutely no point does he ever give his name or makes any mention to it.

Other Servants who initially don't give their names say that they'll give it to you later. Caster does not even bring up the subject.

In the Garden of Sinners crossover event, he says "there's no Cú Chulainn here". It's treated as a gag, but...

In the Singularity F Memorial Quest, he's the only Servant referred to by his Class name instead of his True name.

In Lostbelt 6 he finally introduces himself... as Grimnir. This is an alias that Odin uses in the Grímnismál.

He's not supposed to be the Caster of the Fuyuki Grail War in the first place. In the original reality, it's Medea, while in FGO reality it's Solomon. Material states that Singularity F is the result of data colliding, and Caster resulted from that. However, in that case it should be either Solomon or Medea who appear in Singularity F, not Cú Chulainn.

One of his lines goes as following: "Isn't bit boring to play a game that never ends? For better or for worse, it's like you can't move the pieces forward, yeah?" Is he talking about Singularity F? At any rate, this sounds weird.

His Final Ascension art and animation update features two white wolves. Odin is stated to have two wolves named Geri and Freki.

His second Noble Phantasm, which he mentions in one of his My Room lines, is called "Ochd Deug Odin - Seal of the Great God". It's an exceedingly powerful Rank A Anti-Fortress Noble Phantasm with potentially Game Breaking effects, but what's interesting is its description: it activates by chanting its True Name and using all 18 primordial runes granted by Scáthach at once (keep in mind she taught him the Norse ones) and it "temporarily unleashes the power of the rune possessed by the Great Odin". Aside from the weirdness of him even having that Noble Phantasm in the first place (he's not supposed to have Wickerman either, but at least we get an explanation for that), why can't he use it? (Potential Game-Breaker status not withstanding).

In the North America version of the game, his Bond Craft Essense is called "Yggdrasil Tree". That's taken from Norse Mythology, so why would a Celt have it?

In addition, the Yggdrasil tree has a particularly strong tie to Odin. The Ygg bit is another name for him, and according to legend at some point he hanged himself from one of its branches to gain wisdom.

For some reason, he's in the Nordic Fields during Boudica's 3rd Strengthening Quest.

During Valentine's Day in the return gift scene, he talks about the Human Order Incineration and the Human Order Reorganization - a.k.a. the Lostbelts. Somehow he knew about the Lostbelts before the game even got to that point.

In the 2019 Valentine's event, he's seen reading the book "Scandinavia's Beautiful Mountains".

In the FGO mats, Sigurd takes special notice of him and then has a Double Take. He also seems confused about him in his material profile. The fact that Sigurd noticed Caster is odd, but it should also be noted that Sigurd encountered Odin a number of times in his legend, thus making him one of the most likely people to recognize him.

Scáthach's Interlude brings up a LOT of questions. The regular Lancer Cú Chulainn says that his power is reduced because half his Saint Graph is missing. Mash suggests that the reduction in power may be because he was separated in numerous classes, but Lancer Cú is surprised that he can be summoned as a Caster. In addition, there are several Servants summonable in numerous classes, and none of them has this problem. There's a possibility that the other half of the Saint Graph went to Caster, and he's using an external source to stabilize it.

According to the Arcade version of FGO, it's impossible for any version of Cú Chulainn to be summoned without Gáe Bolg or the skill "Martial Arts Disciplining in the Shadow Country". Yet Caster has neither, thus making him an impossible summoning.

Not very noticeable in the English version, but he occasionally slips into using the "washi" pronoun during dialogue. For those who might not know, "washi" is actually pretty formal, and contrasts Cú Chulainn's much more casual "ore".

A lot of his official art has him looking subtly different that the other versions of Cú Chulainn.

He has lighter-coloured hair in all of his artwork, and Fate/Grand Carnival gives him wrinkles under the eyes. This trait is usually used in anime to show a character around 40-50 years old; an age that Cú Chulainn never reached.

In his card art and formal outfit card, his eyes are almost orange rather than red. In addition, one eye is always at least partially hidden.

In his April Fool's card, he has different facial features than the rest of the Cú Chulainns.

Tying to the above, Odin is known for disguising himself as an older man, usually a wizard, in a hood, and he's missing an eye. Missing eye aside, Caster fits most of that criteria, and as pointed out above, most his art hides his eye anyway. Odin gave said eye in exchange for wisdom, and there are a few remarks that Caster is getting smarter.

In the original Fate/stay night, Emiya draws a connection between Gáe Bolg and Odin's spear, Gungnir. Considering that he has picked up things like Rho Aias and Caladbolg, we can probably take him at his word. In his animation update, Caster throws his staff above the enemies heads, and then it changes tragectory to attack them from behind. While this could easily be a reference to Gáe Bolg's actual method of killing in the myth (it entered the victim through the asshole), it could also be a reference to how Odin would throw Gungnir above the heads of his enemies to declare a war.

Another detail from his animation upgrade is that his Instant Runes often take the form of a Valknut; this symbol according to some scholars is associated with Odin.

There are overall several indications that Caster will play a significant role later in the story: he's featured in the trailer of Lostbelt 6 and received his animation update during the Lostbelt 6 livestream, and Word of God has implied several times that we will be returning to Singularity F at some point.

Tying to the above, in one of My Room conversations, he say's he'll teach you how to use Runes later. Maybe it's not Blatant Lies after all.

Caster and Odin share several personality traits. Both of them are known as "the raging one", are strongly tied with the concept of war, magic, and wisdom, and both of them are The Gadfly - as Caster displays in Singularity F when he tries to get Mash to activate her Noble Phantasm. In addition, in various events Caster seems to have a gambling problem, which is also one of Odin's traits. Not to mention "summon me as a Lancer" works for Odin too.

The recent Lostbelt 6 update also adds fuel to the fire. In My Room dialogues, Scáthach tells him that his Rune magic is slightly different from what she taught him. He asks Sigurd not to look at him with the glasses, when he sees Brynhildr he muses that this must be fate/karma and specifically refers to Scáthach-Skadi as "Lostbelt Skadi."

His new battle lines from the same update are just as interesting.

"Witness the essence of the Rune magecraft taught by Scáthach... Sure, let's go with that." Along with Scáthach accusing him of his Rune magic being different, this could easily imply that he didn't learn them from her.

Another line is that "he doesn't have the noose of his neck anymore". As an above point states, this Odin did this to learn his runes. The noose bit also never happened to Cú Chulainn.

One of his victory lines references "wolves and crows" and that he has "no idea what they're talking about". The crows part could be a reference to the story of Cú Chulainn's death, which features a crow sitting on his corpse, but the whole quote seems to better reference Odin and his pets; the wolves Geri and Freki, and the crows Huginn and Muninn.

Lostbelt 6 also gives his a buff to his Disengage skill. More specifically, it's actually two buffs that activate back-to-back, with the first called "At the Fountain" and the second called "Sacrifice to the World Tree". Very specific, game.

In Lostbelt 2, it is outright stated that it was Odin who fused Skadi and Scáthach together. Who says he never did it before?

[heartshyuck]

Nighthawk

Pairing: Mark x reader ft. The slightest mention of Renjun

Genre: fluff, angst, strangers to lovers but like also an established relashionship?, slice of life, soulmate au.

Synopsis: Nighthawk's were reoccurring thoughts that only seemed to strike you late at night and to Mark that's exactly what you are, until you show up in his days.

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: character death, car accident, mentions of blood and swearing

The image of your face was burned and branded on the back of his eyelids as he lay there on his bed with the moon half hung in the sky being his only company. His mind occupied with the constant pressure of trying to think of anything else other than you. You, who he was totally clueless as to who you were although the light and warm tingling sensation ran course through his body which he then diagnosed to be familiarity and nostalgia.

To how that was possible was another that dominated his thoughts. As the frustration built, clearly shown through his aggressive fidgeting and the constant sighs that left his lips, Mark jumped up with a much louder groan muttering under it "who are you?". A rhetorical question of course, he wasn't expecting any answer from you directly, so he turned to the next best thing. Google.

Quickly yet almost full of anger, he tapped away at the keyboard searching "can you see a person's face without knowing who they are" to his disappointment he was met with the results of 'Prosopagnosia' of more commonly known as face blindness. If anything, Mark was facing the exact opposite of that, he was hyper aware of the face that colonised his mind.

Hours later however he fell down the rabbit hole of dream analysis, most experts say faces seen in your dreams or before falling asleep are faces you've seen before, whether that be the person you see every morning on the otherside of the road running to catch their bus or even a person you passed by for a second, not thinking anything of it until you meet again in the alternate reality of your dreams. This was a strong possibility and he was convinced this was exactly how he knew your face, until he found himself on reddit.

The descriptions of the hazy blues that streak across the faces, the fact that it feels all too real as the strong feelings of nostalgia wash over you in waves and the way he could slowly make the face change into different expressions as if he's seen them a million times before. There was no explanation for it, everyone else experiencing the same thing also having no clue what to call it or not having enough information to diagnose themselves with something. However as night slowly surrendered to the day, letting the light seep in, sleep also over took Mark as well as his thoughts about you. Leaving you forgotten until you strike him again in the depths of the night.

The next night Mark found himself in the same predicament as the night prior, the uncomfortable feeling of seeing your face as he closed his eyes. Only being uncomfortable because of how familiar it was, it was exactly that which scared him. How he knew you without knowing you, how he knew you had a scar next to your left eye but not knowing how it got there, how he knew you bite your bottom lip sometime to which he presumed was out of nervousness but not knowing why you were nervous. It made him nervous to which he would express with an equally endearing habit of scrunching his face up and collaping onto the bed behind him.

Every night a bit of you was revealed more and more. As of now Mark could see your torso now too and each time you seem to be wearing a different outfit too, he most definitely recognises them all and he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't find you attractive. Soon these still portraites of you began moving, Mark would relive moments in time that never happened yet have felt like the millionth time he's seen it.

Today he sees you standing with the most beautiful bunch of a dozen roses and bright smile meeting your eyes and a blush that almost matches the colour of the roses. The same tint finds it's way onto Mark's face for a reason he can't quite comprehend, the butterflies that burst in his stomach, and for what? Is another question Mark doesn't have the answer to.

Soon you find your way into Mark's dreams, dreams that feel too real to be dreams. Dreams that feel like memories of another lifetime, he sees you both walking under the bright blazing summer sun that illuminated the clear blue sky. He intertwined your hands together as you both walked, feeling your welcoming warmth unlike the unwanted humidity that hung in the air, under the pathway decorated with pretty pink spring snow.

"You know they say if a cherry blossom falls onto you hand as you walk with your lover, your love lasts forever" he hears you say so sweetly it makes his heart swoon as you place your hand out still walking in the same rhythmic yet slow pace. Mark sees his own hand reach out for a petal but as if they are avoiding him on purpose, they skilfully dodge his hands. Now actively trying to catch a petal, Mark sees himself looking stupidly cute until you softly place your other hand in his hand, slotting your fingers between his and again he gets to hear your sweet voice.

"You can't try to grasp it because the stronger your hold, the more it will fall out and escape, things will fall naturally in place" you say now facing him, slowly lifting your hand to reveal the petal that had fell into your palm now in his. You leaned forward, lessening the gap between the two of you and placed your lips on his. Mark felt bliss that night, smiling in his sleep as he fell in love with his nighthawk.

As night comes round once more so does the thought of you, Mark now is back to googling. He quickly and again aggressively taps away at the keys searching the meaning of cherry blossom petals and there it is, everything you said. "If it was a dream, I should've known that already." Mark whispers to himself almost not believing what his brain is thinking. He sighs and cutely scruches his face up as he leans back on his bed. Only thoughts of you cloud his head so much so it drives him into exhaustion but still you manage to find your way into his dreams.

This time he sees you scavenging through his draws, he can hear small complaints out of your slightly pouted mouth. "You don't have enough hoodies" you whined slightly stomping your foot. A small laugh left Mark as his heart bloomed at the sight of your little tantrum "correction, I don't have enough hoodies for the both of us" he teased causing you to roll your eyes "how inconsiderate can you be, buying hoodies only for yourself" you argued in a much more prominent pout as you sat on the end of Mark's bed marking the end of your quest for a hoodie. Mark's heart could've burst right then and there as he pursed his lips trying to contain his squeal. "Your right it is inconsiderate of me" he reasoned as he pulled you by your legs closer to him. "Take mine" he said muffled by the warm fabric being pulled over his head and swiftly being pulled down onto your body. A smile beamed on your face, going from ear to ear just how Mark liked it. You wrapped your arms around him placing your left leg over his and pressed your body into his side, slightly squeezing him. His hand reached up to pat your head, fingers intertwining with strands of your hair as he twists and plays with them leaving a tingling yet soothing feeling on your scalp.

"I love you Mark Lee" were the last words Mark heard before the rude interruption of the morning sun beamed down and the painful beeps of the alarm rang through his ears flushing out the thought of you.

Later that evening, Mark finds the same hoodie from his dream. It never was a favourite of his but he finds himself wearing it a lot more, pretending your scent lingers on to it.

Again as if it was a ritual, Mark would find himself lying awake in the abyss of the night being swallowed by the thoughts of you. Mark now let his mind freely run to you without any hesitation he surrendered to the sweet thoughts of you. His consciousness left him and the consciousness of another life took over.

He's met with the smokey fog of blured windows, the harsh rain pelting down from the sky but your warm presence next to him as he drives down the long road that slowly unwinds in front of him only being revealed as far as the headlights allow. Your head resting on the window, your legs placed against your chest as you close your eyes to the soothing sound of the rain that mixes with the mellow music that plays quietly.

Mark reaches out to hold your hand rubbing small circles on the back of your thumb, your hand keeps his company as he changes gears. Your eyes open once you feel the car come to a hault and the feeling of Mark's soft yet slightly chapped lips place themselves on the back of your hand repeatedly kissing you awake. "Wake up love" Mark says in a slight grumble that sits in his throat from not speaking for a while, he clears his throat and reaches to the back seat to grab the black umbrella, getting out of the car to come round to your side.

You both stand arms around each other with the umbrella loosely held above your heads, the wind knocking it from to side to side. Rain hitting you from all sides with a chilling cold that contradictes the heat that radiates from your bodies, you stare out to the clear fields where the stars shower alongside the rain listening to the steady heartbeat that pulsed in Mark's chest. A calmness overcame you and you confessed "I think your my soulmate" but then you disappeared as his consciousness flooded back in, sweeping you away with the night once again. Mark groans as his heart swoons and aches for you, squeezing his eyes shut, attempeting to dream once more but as the moon sets so does his thoughts of you.

Exhaustion and fatigue are chased away the next night, when Mark starts thinking about how he doesn't know your name. In all his dreams he's referred to you by "love" or other words of endearment. Though the memories of the vivid dreams are patchy and every growing minute more and more slips away from him, he tries to scan over what he does remember and tries to relive the dreams in hopes of somehow finding out your name.

An exasperated sigh leaves Mark as he falls on to his bed in habbit of his frustration to how close yet how far you are to him. That night Mark doesn't dream of you, he doesn't dream at all as the groggy thoughts block and overcome sleep. He stays up watching the moon be replaced by the unbearably bright sun and it's then he prays to be surrounded by your comforting darkness all the time and as he finally places his head down to sleep wanting his consciousness to leave him like you leave him when day comes.

Yet this time you come back and Mark finds you, a small you. Sitting in a sand box with a bucket and spade, filling the bucket up to the brim with sand. Once finished you stand up dusting your legs off, of the sand that clings to your skin. You pick up the bucket bending backwards slightly as you slowly waddle over to your castle, shifting your weight from one leg to the other making big stomps in the sand until your foot gets stuck causing you to trip falling forwards. The sand explodes outwards and you fall after it, hitting the side of your left eye with the corner of the spade. The corner rips through the flesh and crimson beads of blood seep down your cheek until stopped by a tissue in the hands of a small boy. He holds pressure to the side of your left eye with his small and nimbly fingers while whiping the mix of blood and tear off your cheek with his other hand, he whispers sweet words of encouragement to you trying to steady your breath.

"Hey it's okay, don't cry" he says as he now holds your hand "it's gonna stop soon and then I'll go find your mum with you okay" he reassures you and the whipers leaving your trembling bottom lip slowly stop. "Hi I'm Mark, what's your name?" He asks you sweetly a bright smile stretched along his features which was the followed by sweet giggles that escaped his lips as he patted down your hair ridding it of sand. "My name's-". Mark jolts forward as he hears the loud ring of his phone disrupt his nap. "Aah shit" he growls, crawling out of bed not having time to process what just happened in his alternate subconscious, the memory of you slowly slip from him.

Mark runs down the bustling streets making his way to the cafe him and his friends agreed to meet for lunch. As he sits with his order his minds begins to wander as he loses interest in the conversations being held and as if it was a habit his mind runs to you. Trying so hard to think what the name was that you told him in the sandbox, he stares intensly at his muffin and you come to him. His nighthawk becoming a daydream.

He sees you crouching by the oven, tongue repeatedly running across your bottom lip as you as you devoure the cupcakes, that still had to rise, with your eyes. A smile finds its way plastered on his face as he can't seem to tell the difference between the adult you and the small child that he met in the sand box. "You know if you stare at them, the longer they'll take to get done. They're shy leave them alone" He teased you causing to roll your eyes.

You made you way over to the breakfast bar stools that Mark was sitting on and planted youself on his lap now staring at him instead. Mark's eyes widened and a faint blush rose up onto his cheeks, "don't tell me your shy too" you teased in a pout, inching your face closer and closer to his and the finally placing a chaste of kisses all over his nose and cheeks and then finally placing a long-awaited sweet kiss on his lips.

Marks heart swelled and ached but the sweet daydream was interrupted by Renjun forcefully shaking his shoulders, "hello earth to Mark" Renjun said prolonging his pronunciation waving his arm in front of Mark's face. "Oh sorry" he said straightening himself trying to look more involved in the conversations taking place around the table.

As Mark walked home later that evening he was met with the familiar sight of an archway made of cherry blossom trees, the sight made him think of you and unconsciously his arm extended, wishing a petal would land in his palm yet they still skilfully avoid his hand. A small smile graced his features as he fought the urge to wave his arms around and actively catch one. "everything will fall into place" he reminds himself.

Once reaching home Mark collapses on his bed straight away hoping to pick up from where he left, he wishes to meet you again in the alternate universe of dreams. As he dozes off he sees your figure wrapped in white lace, confusion sweeps his mind but the heaviness of his eyes win and soon he's surrendered himself to you once again.

"I do" are the words that hum through Mark's ear as the vision of you standing at an alter opposite to him in a beautiful white lace dress that hugs your figure perfectly, is what he's met with. Mark's eyes widen at the scene but he doesn't feel nervous, not at all. Instead he feels complete and feels such comfort and warmth, the way you look at him with a million stars in your eyes and as if he was your world makes him feel an unexplainable amount of love. His heart leaping and threatening to jump out of his chest. It's now when Mark can feel the desperation in his heart for the world to introduce him to his soulmate.

As the wedding bells fade out into the distance and the light of the moon shine down on Mark welcoming him back to the reality he dreads. His reality without you. The rest of the night Mark lays there, heart hurting at how he's in love with someone who he hasn't even met, someone who he isn't even sure exists. His whole body aches for your presence, aches for your touch. Every moment between reality and dreams blurs together and Mark's not even sure if any of this is real anymore as his nighthawk has left him in the swallowing abyss alone, his only company being the moon that hung halfway in the sky.

For weeks to come Mark didn't meet you in his dreams, he didn't meet you in his mind in the depths of night. He didn't think of you and now the constant aching has stopped but so did everything else. Mark felt numb and empty, no emotions could ever fill the void of the overwhelming amount of love he feels for you. You who he didn't know.

That was until he felt his heart ache from grief instead of love. The tears streamed down his face as he panted for air with both arms trying to hold himself up but soon to give way. The loud sobs escaped his mouth and he held his mouth tight trying to conceal the loud sound as he let more of his tears fall. Every dream would slip away from him no matter how hard he tried to remember but this time he didn't have to try. The moon wouldn't let him forget what he saw that night.

The image of you struggling to breath, the image of you struggling to keep your eyes open, the image of you being pulled out of the flipped car, the image of your own blood drowning you. It haunted Mark, instead of seeing your beautiful smile that caused your eyes to crease slightly everytime he closed his eyes, he saw you struggling. He never stopped crying that night, the tears would never get a chance to dry and his eyes would never get a chance to rest that night.

Days went past and Mark still hadn't been able to close his eyes, the growing purple bags were proof of this. What Mark hated most was that he felt broken for the death of a person he never got to spend a second with. He felt broken for the death of a dream but the love he felt for this dream was far from a dream. It was reality. The pain in his chest draws the lines between dream and reality but he still let himself dream, hoping you were his future and the dreams were his past.

So he gets up out of bed deciding today is when he starts his future. Walking under the same sping snow that fell lifetimes ago, a small and fragile petal elegantly swoops into Mark's palm. A small smile, that seemed so foreign to Mark now, manages to creep up onto Mark's face as he remembers your smiling face for just a small second. Yet as if his mind has be trained, it rejects you from his thoughts too scared of what he'll remember next.

He continues to walk down the familar road filled with familar sights, the same man that sits on the bench and feeds the pigeons. The same kids that run back from school, the same same cars that pass by at this time and the same cafe that always meets Mark at the end of the highway. The one that always welcomes him with the strong, bitter yet welcoming smell of coffee, the same beautiful sight of fresh blueberry muffins beautifully displayed but when he swung open the door, a dark brown mimicking the colour of coffee beans, he didn't expect to be met with the sweet sight of you. he didn't expect to see you standing on the other side of the counter at his favourite cafe. He didn't expect to see your beautiful smile when you perfectly placed the blueberry muffins out on display.

Yet the moment he saw, despite being surprised, he didn't feel that hammering in his chest or the disbelief that you weren't there because it felt so right, for the first time in Mark's life he felt certain. Certain it was you and certain you were the one. In that moment there was a spark which ignited a feeling so strong, a bond built over lifetimes and the only word that seem walked up to you, who welcomed him with a warm and welcoming smile. Ready to risk it all.

His nerves however got the best of him, his words trapped in his throat, the only sound leaving his mouth repeatedly like an idiot was "um". Your sweet giggles caused Mark's eyes widened as he realised how much he was embarrassing himself, thinking of how the hell he's gonna make his stupid self stop repeating um. He quickly slapped his mouth shut and while doing so he projected air down his throat causing him to choke.

You quickly grabbed a bottle of water handing it to Mark, he grabbed it and attempting to down the water as well as the caught air in his throat. After a few coughs he finally faces you while whiping away the few tears that threatened to fall. After a few seconds of staring at him wide eyed to definitely make sure he was okay you let out a soft laugh almost as if you didn't believe that he just chocked on nothing but air. "Well I guess I must be stunning if I caused you to suddenly forget how to breathe" you tease as a playful smile replaces your previous shocked and horrified face.

Mark shyly laughs, to you it may seem like he's embarrassed because of what just happened but truly he's more taken aback at how true your words are. "So what would you like?" You asked "A date" the words slipped out of Mark's mouth and judging by his expression you don't think even he knew those words were coming out. His eyes widened and he quickly covered his mouth causing you to again sofltly laugh at the awkward yet endearing mess that was in front of you. "I meant one of those caramel and date cookies as well as an iced americano please" he whinced at how his own voice sounded unsure in what he was saying clearly indicating he was trying to save himself from the slip up but your smile only grew at the more awkward Mark got. "Here you go" you say as you pass Mark his iced americano and a paper bag which has him internally facepalming at the sight of it. "Thank you" he whispers not wanting to allow himself to continue embarrassing himself.

It wasn't until later when Mark left the coffee shop that he saw the black lines on the side of the cup that read "I'd like a date too" which followed with your phone number just below it, again he whinced as he remembered how his mouth betrayed him but it couldn't stop the grin blooming on his face as he repeated your number in his head again and again as if the numbers would run away from him.

A few weeks had gone by and you both had already gone on a few dates, the first one being a simple walk in the park whilst just getting to know each other a bit more. Despite being simple, Mark made a big effort in being romantic, he bought a bunch of pink tulips. "They are used to symbolise joyful occasions" he said shyly "since it's our first date I thought it was the best way to celebrate."

You smiled as you took them from his grasp, stroking the petals and admiring their beauty, "not a fan of red roses?" You teasingly asked, a bit surprised he didn't go for the cliché. Mark's nerves crept up once again causing to stutter as he explained himself, "um well I thought undying love was a bit strong for the first date" he said in a laugh coated in his nerves until your sweet laugh shook them off and caused a sense of comfort to surround Mark. "I think you're right, red roses are definitely for date three" you said in a teasing sarcastic manner.

Once the third date rolled round, there you were met with the dozen of long stemed red roses and that's when you were sold. You and Mark had started dating, constant little outings, hour long calls and non stop texting. Days of being together turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and in these months you've learned a lot about Mark. You've learned that he loves to cuddle, he's unbelievably awkward at times and that he really hates dates in his cookies. You've learnt that he snores in his sleep, that he loves watermelons and that he was unbelievably fidgety. You've also learnt to love all of them, some quicker than others.

You also noticed the moments you fell in love with the whole of Mark Lee. The exact moments in time where you can look back and say at that point in time, I was in love. Look back and say at this point in time, i felt loved.

You were in love and felt in love when Mark took you hoodie shopping. You hesitantly agreed to go to the mall with him, though you did only agree because he kept asking whilst you were asleep. You hated the mall, you hated how packed it was with people too close for comfort, you hated the hurried pace of it all and how you had to be skilful in dodging oncoming people who seemed to be blinded by haste.

"Why are we here" you in cried out dramatically, head flopping back whilst your lips formed a pout, Mark's heart lept at the sight and his hand, the one that wasn't intertwined with yours. Helping you navigate your way through the crowds of people, instinctively pinched your cheeks. "Aww, cutie" he cooed swaying your face side to side with his soft grip still remaining on your cheek. You rolled you eyes, swatting his hand away.

"Mark" you whines again in the same tone and manner hoping that this time you'd get sympathy instead. Mark's smile only grew wider at you cute antics, "we're here to get hoodies" he said as he pulled you into one of the stores. "You couldn't do this online? You dragged me out just so you could get yourself hoodies?" The words leaving your mouth sounding a little more annoyed than you intended for them to sound but Mark didn't seem to mind as it seemed like he had a good explanation. "Not for myself, for you too" he walked further into the store, holding different hoodies against and judged which ones he liked most. "Mark" you began to explain "I only like wearing hoodies that are yours" you moaned out "I don't want any of my own, I want yours" Mark only laughed at your complaints as he placed multiple hoodies over his arm "I already know that silly, I just wanted to see which ones would look good on you before I bought them and you steal them. That's why we had to buy them in store" He laughed heading towards the counter to pay and it was at that moment that your heart bloomed, the euphoric feeling of love pumping through your veins. The feeling of loving and being loved.

Another time was when Mark decided to stay over for the weekend, each day was filled with kisses and cuddles whilst binge watching movie after movie. You favourite moment however was when you decide to paint Mark a new face.

"Come on Mark stop moving" you huffed as you tried to draw a thin line of eyeliner on to Mark's eyelid. "I can't help it, it's cold and blinking is a reflex" he defended himself. "I don't blink when I do it" you counter argued whilst physically having to hold his eyelid still "you must be dead then" he deadpanned earning a hard slap again his chest causing him to laugh. "Ah stop laughing" you complained trying to replicate the wing on the other eye.

After Mark's laughing had subsided and you successfully held down both his eyelids, your subtle eye make up was done. "Okay open you eyes" you say exitidly holding a mirror up to his face for him to examine his eyes. "Whow! I look like you but better" he jokes as he checks him self out, earning yet again a slap on the chest and again it causes a fit of laughter to erupt.

You roll your eyes at settle yourself in between his legs and sit on one of his thighs as you attempt to put lipstick on a laughing Mark. The closeness of your faces is what makes him stop, he becomes hyperaware of everything around him. Like how your hand is gently holding his chin up for you to have better access to his lips, how you eyes stare intensly at them with a all too familiar desire. You look up to meet Mark's eyes that are peering down at you through the layers of his bottom lashes that are now accentuated with mascara. You see stars in his eyes, the sparkle and twinkle with the same desire. It's at this moment you comprehend how well Mark understands you with no words needed. So you close the gap, his slighly chapped coloured lips meeting your soft and raw lips. Sweet, loving and innocent kisses are all that's exchanged throughout that night, just sealing your growing love and adoration for each other a million times over.

"Thanks for helping me get the lipstick off but how am I gonna take the rest of this off" Mark says against your lips, a blush creeps up to your cheeks and you pull away rolling your eyes hoping Mark focuses on that instead and misses the crimson tint but he doesn't and pinches your cheeks softly.

"And this is how I tricked you into doing face masks with me" you pull out a bunch of facemask and lay them in front of Mark to choose. He rolls his eyes and poutes "this wasn't about making me look beautiful was it? This was about making me look stupid with these dumb masks" he whines as he picks up one mask packet to examine. "Hun, your beautiful all the time make up or no make up, so of course it's about making you look stupid" you tease as you rip open a packet and place the sheet mask on Mark's freshly washed face. "Your lucky i love you" Mark says with a furrowed brow and a cute pout as he sits in light blue pajamas and a bunny headband holding his hair back. "Mhm I know" is all you say in response as your occupied with placing your own mask on your face but the sudden contact of Mark's cold hands under your shirt causes you to flinch to the right as he launches his tickle attack on you. "Say it back" he whines as he continuously tickles your side, your laughter rings through the apartment "okay okay" you say through shaky breaths "I love you too" and those words instantly haulted the attack. "Good" Mark smiles and press quick peck onto your lips. You still look back at the silly pictures you both took in the small and confined space of your bathroom, the matching pajamas and the face masks and anyone could tell you were both so in love.

If you asked Mark he also had his own set of memories where he could tell he was absolutely in awe of you, where he felt so in love and felt loved. One that stood out to him, was last Christmas, it was another moment where he really couldn't tell the difference beween you and the little y/n that he had seen in the sandbox. The scenes were almost exact except sand was replaced with the fresh white snow. You lay there wrapped up in layers of warm clothing making snow angels, calling Mark out to come join you. Your eyes sparkeled and you held a smile across your face all day. Once Mark had reached you pulled him on top of you and wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him tight against your own body. Both of you gathering a lot of attention from the people walking by and your neighbours as your giggles filled the street, Mark didn't care for the stares and the slight giggles from across the road, he was in love and everyone on that road knew it. It was the moments when your face lit up and your eyes held a million stars when you opened up the beautiful emerald necklace Mark got you, that he knew he wanted to see that face his whole life. When he knew that there's nothing more beautiful than you and falling in love with you. He thought of having to lift you up just so you could place the star at the very top of the tree and then his mind wandered to having to lift up a little you instead to put the star up as you watched from behind.

Their was another moment that is one of his favourites but probably not yours. You were both walking on your way to the cafe it all started at, a year had gone by and the falling pink petals have returned. You placed your arm out and as if you walked out from Mark's dreams you uttered the exact same words.

"You know they say if your walking with your lover under cherry blossom trees and a petal lands in both your hands, you love lasts forever" you say smiling as you hold up the petal to show Mark. He smiles holding out his hand as well.

"So I've been told" he smiles at his hand as finally a petal falls into his plam, he grabs your hand encasing both petals between. "What who said that to you?" You ask wondering if Mark has loved anyone else before. It wasn't really a topic you talked about, the past was in the past. You didn't really care but you still couldn't stop your curiosity. "Just someone I loved" he smiled as if he was brought back to a happy memory. You pouted, unable to hide the growing jealously, yes you knew it was stupid but Mark was your first love and you hoped you were his too. All Mark could do was laugh at your jealousy and kiss your pout away. It's one of his favourite memories because it's the only time you've ever really been jealous and it's even funnier that you were jealous at your self, well past self.

One that you both did agree on was a simple moment, not sure of when it took place but the events of the day remain engraved in both your memories. You both were lying down in bed, ready to be put into your food coma just after lunch. You legs intertwined, arms around each other, you head buried into the crook of his neck as you gave him kisses here and there. Mark's hand was on your thigh occasionally rubbing it and drawing small circles into it. You lay like this for what felt like only five minutes until Mark tried peel himself off you. "Where are you going?" you whined out as you pinned his body against yours with much more force not allowing him to move. "I need to take a shower" mark laughes out and he again tries to move away from you and get up from the bed. "No, no just 20 more minutes" you try and bargain, "you don't need to have one now, you just ate" you say wrapping your legs tighter against his. "No i really need to go now" he protests and tries tickling you until you get off of him. You let out a fit of giggles but manage to cage his hands inbetween both your torsos and stop him from being able to move his hands "No, I'm not letting you go" you say in a pout with the cutest voice you can put on in hopes he'd stop and he does for a while until the brilliant idea pops into his mind. "How about you join me in the shower?" He says in a smirk you can feel against you cheeks as he presses a kiss down. "No I already had one this morning, I'm washing my hair again" you says snuggling closer to him "how about you go when I fall asleep?" You yawn. "Fine" he smiles and holds you until you fall asleep in his arms.

This moment remained so special because you both realised how much you loved each others presence. The feeling of being wanted by someone whilst wanting to be there, to Mark and you it truly was a amazing. It was a possibility of possibilities but that's the one that played out, maybe the universe finally was giving Mark his happy ending.

But what ending was ever truly happy?

You were on your way from work, to meet Mark and go out for dinner. The green man flashed and you walked out to cross the road. Mark could see the sirens on his way to meeting you, he could see ambulance and the police cars parked outside the cafe. His heart dropped at the familiar sight, but then his phone rang and you name flashed across the screen, a picture of you lying in the snow lit up his screen and he smiled slightly out of relief. "Hey" Mark's voice was horse and clearly he was shaken up still, "hello" an unfamiliar voice came from the otherside and Mark's heart yet again sank to his gut as the police had informed him of his nightmare.

Mark ran towards the ambulance and he climbed in. Running to hold your hand, he collapsed by your side. The blood dripping from your head was an all too familiar sight and it made Mark sick, his gut clenched and his heart ached. He could feel the unsettling feeling coming up his throat. You heart monitore beating rapidly and your chest rising and falling as quick as each beep. The sound getting louder and louder until it was the only noise he could hear.

The world began to fade out when he saw you breathe your last, you lungs had collapsed and so did his world. He saw you die for the second time, the pain never faulted though. His heart clenched in his chest and every part of his body was crying out. Tears falling uncontrollably as well as his shaking body, he held your now cold hands and prayed for you to come back to him. Like those nights he used to pray for you to enter his life, again he's asking you not leave like when you left once the day came but he couldn't stop you. Life is cold, unfair and you were always meant to leave him. You left him when the morning came as his nighthawk and now you leave him as if this was all just a dream but when you left, you left with his heart and the pain is what reminded him that this was reality.

He cried and cried by your side, praying for the comforting warmth you alway had, to come back. He's now here kneeling at your grave, eyes red with bags underneath indicating his lack of sleep. Red roses placed by your gravestone and it's here where Mark pledges his undying love. He prays one more time, he places his hands together "I pray our love crosses over multiple lifetimes, so i could fall for you all over again. For loving you this lifetime, just wasn't enough" he cries.

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