#I’m going back to the sketches cause not only are they amazing but they convey the emotions better

[sockdooe]

This comic is kicking me where it hurts rn so I’m scraping all the clean up I did cause I hate it

This was really the only part that I liked so here yah go :))

[wellhellotragic]

Dead in the Water (1/2)

You guys!!! It’s here! It’s our @csrolereversal drop date and I’m so excited for you all to see the amazing art @clockadile created for this event. Everyone, please go to her page, check out this amazeball painting, and send her all of the love that she deserves because this fic would never have existed without her! She is just such a wonderful person and I feel so honored that I got to make words in an effort to bring her art to life in a different way. I hope that I’ve done it, and her, justice and that you guys enjoy this. Shout out to @darkcolinodonorgasm for pulling this event together and to everyone in the rolereversal discord chat. It truly has been such a wonderful event and everyone has been so amazingly supportive of one another, so thank you all for being so awesome! Also tagging @cshalloweek​ even though my theme doesn’t completely match the day.

Summary:

Killian Jones may have just had the worst year of his life. The loss of his hand, of his career, and of his pride were almost more than he could take. In a bid to reclaim his life, Killian decided it was time to face his fears, and get back on the metaphorical horse, or in his case, back on the water. Only, the purchase of a haunted second-hand boat may just come at the cost of his sanity.

“The sea is like a cruel mistress. You can love her, you can hate her, but you can never trust her.” - author unknown

Rating: M (foul language sprinkled in and some adult themes)

Also on AO3

“Mayday! Mayday!”

Nothing.

“Please, is anyone out there?” The faint words were met with radio silence. The only noise a high pitched whining from what was likely a busted eardrum. Weak and dizzy, blood continued to drip into the water filling the cabin. The once brown floor now covered in pink.

Searing pain, a sinking boat, and all hope lost. There was little to do but wait. Wait for the inevitable. There was nowhere to go, no reason to have hope. Climbing to higher ground had been a struggle, and pointless as the vessel continued to dip lower and lower into the icy water.

That night, prayers went unanswered. The heavens laughed as they flashed their pearly white teeth and the crackle of a thousand laughs filled the air. The rain continued to fall all around.

There was nothing to do but wait until the water finally claimed her prize. Until the sea took it’s claim. Until the world went black.

***

It was unseasonably hot in Boston. Granted, summertime was hardly a perfect oasis in the northeast on a usual year, but that July had seen it’s hottest temperatures in over sixty years, and the city had been a sweltering mess. The usually pristine buildings along Freedom Trail were littered with blinding metal as each window had suddenly become occupied with ac units overnight. There had even been rolling blackouts as the power company struggled to keep up with the city’s demands.

Why Ariel’s Antiquities had insisted on holding their event outdoors was a mystery to Killian. Women and men dressed in their best, hoping that fancy clothes would somehow insinuate that they had money and could easily out bid their competitors. Unfortunately for them, their power suits became far less intimidating by the minute as sweat lines began to appear sometime just before ten. As the hours drifted on, people became puddles, their shoes sticking to the sidewalks.

Killian found himself near constantly tugging on the collar of his shirt, peeling it away from his sticky skin. Unlike him, his brother had refused to undo the top two buttons on his shirt and seemed even more miserable, if that were somehow possible.

The two men had been sniping at each other for the better part of the morning, and now with the sun at full intensity above them, they’d resorted to silence as they milled their way through lot after lot. The auction advertisement Killian had seen online seemed to have mostly a mishmash of memorabilia and collectables, with a few actual antiquities mixed in.

But unlike the other bidders, the two men weren’t there for random knick knacks. There was one specific item that had caught his eye on the online inventory. A tiny thumbnail the only indication of its existence and he could only hope that it hadn’t been from a previous auction.

For over an hour, Killian traipsed through the old fair grounds, Liam in tow behind him, searching with no luck.

“Killian, I hate to be the one to say this, but it’s not here. We’ve been to every lot and it’s just garbage.” He turned to see his brother giving him a look of pity, infuriating his very being. “Perhaps this is a sign.”

“A sign of what? False advertising?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I just-” Liam took a deep breath, pushing the air out on an audible huff. “I just worry about you.”

With that, all of the anger and frustration from the day left Killian’s body. He couldn’t be mad at Liam any more, not when he knew it was true. When he still had memories of waking in the hospital, of seeing Liam’s eyes red and puffy from tears. It was the first time he’d seen his brother cry since their mother had passed years before.

“Liam, this is something I need to do. I need to prove to myself that I can get back out there. I can’t let this cripple me for the rest of my life.”

His choice of words hadn’t meant to convey the irony, but as his brother glanced down at the metal and leather covering his wrist, Killian couldn’t help but notice the cruelty of the universe. That even the most benign of words could cause such pain, even a year later. How even thinking about that day caused his missing hand to throb in pain.

“Killian, you are one of the strongest people I know. You don’t have anything to prove. Not to me or anyone else.”

Gone were the days where Liam teased him and called him little brother. Now, he was lucky if Liam said anything cheeky around him at all. And while he didn’t have anything to prove to anyone else, the truth was that he needed to show his brother that he wasn’t broken. Not anymore. That he didn’t need to be coddled like a wounded duck.

Before he could respond though, a glimmer caught his eye from a passing bidder’s reflective earrings, causing him to whip his head to the left. And there, tucked behind an old telephone booth, 2 huge entertainment centers, and a large canopy bed, there it was. There she was.

He didn’t wait for his brother, his jogging nearly breaking into a full stride. She was hard to see, tucked away behind items too heavy to move, but even in his limited view he could see that she was battered and bruised. Still, Killian knew that with a little sweat equity, she could be a marvel. He let his hand run down the fiberglass, feeling the strength of the hull, despite the hole in her port side. A gaping wound about the size of a bowling ball.

She was damaged, just as he was, but together they’d mend each other. He was sure of it.

“That’s it? That’s the boat you brought us all the way out here for?” Killian could only smile to himself. “Brother, she’s a mess. Where’s the mainmast? And did you see that hole? There’s no telling what kind of dry rot is on the inside.”

“Yes. I know she’s not much to look at right now, but-”

“No. You can’t be serious. She’s better off torn apart for scraps.”

Killian couldn’t explain to his brother the draw that he felt. He’d been searching auction houses for months. All of the boats he’d seen were either grossly overpriced, or faced the Goldilocks conundrum. Too small. Too big. But this one, it was just right. From the instant he’d seen that tiny thumbnail picture on his laptop screen, he’d felt it deep within his gut. He was meant for that boat, just as she was meant for him.

“And what kind of name is Jewel of the Real?”

“Realm.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s Jewel of the Realm.”

Killian’s hand brushed over the faded wood, tracing the faintest outline of where an ‘M’ used to reside.

The rest of their time there was a bit of a blur for Killian. Liam trying his best to talk him out of buying The Jewel as people threw their paddles up in the air, capturing the trinkets on the stage. Killian fighting with a man two rows ahead of him for the winning bid, going over the maximum price he’d set in his head. Giving the auction house the delivery address, ignoring the way his brother huffed as Killian wrote them a check.

But none of that mattered, because in the end, she was his. The auction house delivered her a few days after his check cleared. The address he’d given them was for a warehouse another expat had told him about. Cheap monthly rates and all of that. What Will Scarlet had neglected to mention was that the warehouse was actually an abandoned building in a rather questionable part of town. Killian never should have trusted the man with a deposit sight unseen. The building lacked windows or doors, and Killian immediately knew he’d been had by the huxter.

He’d scrambled to find another place to fix up the Jewel. The drydocks at the marina were expensive and lacked space for him to spread out with tools, not to mention the absence of privacy while he worked. It was bad enough that people stared at his hook while he was picking up food from the local pub or out with Liam and his wife. He’d be damned if he was going to have people watch him work on a boat one handed. He even considered trying to work out of his friend, Robin’s, garage but the thirty two foot boat simply wouldn’t fit. No matter how imaginative he got with his sketches.

In the end, it was the most unlikely of allies that came to his rescue. The last man he ever expected to aid him with the Jewel. Liam owned a shipping company, specializing in European imports, with English ales and German lagers making up the bulk of his business. The main office was based in downtown Boston, but there was also a small warehouse down by the port where items were stored as they awaited inspection. His brother, still not happy with his decision made him an offer anyway. Come to work at Jones Shipping Monday through Friday, and he’d have the warehouse all to himself in the evenings and on weekends to work on the “abomination.”

Killian accepted begrudgingly. He wasn’t necessarily in need of a salary. He had the monthly stipends from the Navy to live on, the only benefit of losing his left hand, and the idea of becoming a corporate stooge maddened him to no end. He’d already sold his soul once, and they spit him back out once they deemed him of no further use. He wasn’t quite ready to lose the rest of himself to a full time day job pushing paperwork, schmoozing potential clients, and taking orders from Liam. But the perk of Liam’s harbor warehouse was too great to pass up.

So he took the job. He started on a Monday and the boat was delivered on the following Tuesday. Liam had neglected to mention his need for a key, so after driving across town, Killian ended up having to turn around without seeing her. The next day he’d nearly ripped into Liam when he saw him, but seeing three other men in suits sitting in front of Liam’s desk made him rethink his anger. Or at least rethink giving his brother a piece of his mind at work in front of people he’d only ever met at staff parties. He’d already had to deal with stares and questions from a rather bold intern. The stress from his own self-consciousness only amplified his frustration with Liam.

He finally got the key from Liam later that afternoon, along with another gift that he wasn’t particularly fond off. One that actually left him offended. One that he threw back in his brother’s face as he stormed out of his office, not caring one bit what anyone thought of him. Not when his brother obviously thought so little.

He was too upset to even go check on The Jewel at that point, choosing to head to a pub near the harbor instead. The Rusty Anchor was a fan favorite for expats. It’s where he’d met Scarlet, which unfortunately didn’t actually say much about the place. He’d met a few good blokes there as well though, like the bartender Robin. They’d become friends in a grief counseling group. It was mandated for Killian, but optional for the other man who was grieving his wife. Listening to Robin talk at their monthly meetings had helped put Killian’s loss into perspective. Suddenly his missing hand didn’t seem so catastrophic.

Robin had invited him to the pub knowing Killian was new in town with few friends, and the two men had formed a bond in the months since. In a way, he felt closer to the man than he did to Liam. Like he could tell him anything without the brotherly judgment that always radiated from the elder Jones.

After a few pints and a good talk with Robin, Killian had calmed. Liam was still a moron, but that wasn’t on him. And as Robin said, he just had to continue to remind himself that the only reason he was even working for his brother was so that he could fix up the Jewel. As soon as she was sea worthy, he could leave his job without breaking his word to Liam.

In a slightly better mood, he headed a few streets over to the warehouse, ready to take a full inventory of all of the repairs she’d need. The hole in the hull was obvious, as well as new paint all over, and she needed a new mast and sails, but there was always the concern of dry rot. That was the biggest worry. Having to replace every plank of wood and all of the fiberglass on the boat would defeat the entire purpose of restoring her.

Not to mention the difficulties he’d face using his hook. He was more than proficient with it for everyday use after eight months of practice, but some things still tested his limits. As he walked up to the warehouse, thinking about how he’d hoist the sails on without tearing them, he was completely lost in thought, oblivious to the man standing next to his boat. He was more than a little embarrassed by the shriek that escaped from his lips, but upon realizing that it was Liam there waiting for him, his distress turned to anger again. Especially when he saw the box from earlier on a nearby table.

“Killian, before you say anything, it’s not what you think. I never meant to imply-”

“What? That I’m a freak. That I’ll scare away all of the clients?”

“Actually, it was quite the opposite. I got it for you.” Killian looked down, unable to meet his brother’s gaze. “What? You don’t think I see you? The way you shrink in on yourself when you’re out with Elsa and me?”

Liam had him there.

“Look, Killian. I just thought that maybe it would help you to feel more comfortable. I never meant to insinuate anything by it.”

Perhaps he had overreacted. In his mind’s eye, it was just the cherry on top of a horrible year. The whole world judged him. Wasn’t it only a matter of time before his brother saw him as a disfigured beast as well? Except, that wasn’t what happened. He’d made a snap judgement, and thought the worst of Liam in the process.

“You’re right. I... it’s harder than I expected it to be sometimes. I thought,” he had to fight to keep his emotions in check as he remembered those first few weeks in the hospital. How he’d lost more than just his hand. “I thought it would be easier than this.”

“And I’m sorry that I didn’t handle it in a more sensitive way. I think I was just so excited to show it to you that I assumed you’d be just as enthusiastic. Obviously, it’s not all that functional, but it’s remarkably realistic and Elsa and I just thought it would make you more comfortable dealing with clients.”

Killian laughed to himself. A sad little thing. It was very realistic in a way that nauseated him when he first opened the box. Even now, as he walked over to it and lifted the top, he couldn’t help the catch in his throat. The prosthetic hand looked incredibly realistic, right down to the synthetic hair on the back of the silicone. There was a metal clip that popped into place in his arm sleeve and a metal wire that hooked into his shoulder strap, just like with his hook that allowed some slight mobility in the hand. It opened and closed, allowing him to grab objects if he needed to, but it wasn’t nearly as advanced as the mechanical hands he’d seen in the clinic. Although this one probably didn’t cost the same as Liam’s house either like the mechanical ones, which was a plus.

He lifted it from the box, testing the weight of it. It was slightly heavier than his hook, something that would take some getting used to. It was also probably going to end up being longer when all was said and done. Wearing suits might be a problem. He’d have to wait until he got home to check.

Liam, for his part, didn’t seem to want to make it any bigger of a deal than he already had. Instead, he changed the subject back towards The Jewel.

“Do you want the good news or the bad first?”

He’d already had a hard enough day. He didn’t need the bad news at all, much less first.

“The good.”

“Well, she’s not a total loss. I’ve been checking her over, and the bulk of the damage seems to be located here, in the hull where this hole is. The fiberglass is badly splintered around it. I’ve been trying to work out what exactly could have caused it, but aside from an act of Poseidon himself, it makes no sense. Whatever made the hole, it came from the inside of the boat. The furniture inside the cabin is also ruined. Smashed to pieces or rotted away. But the rudder and keel are still in perfect shape.”

Killian leaned in closer, allowing his hand to move along the edges of the hole. Liam was right. The edges was splintered towards the outside of the boat, and the fiberglass around it was all badly cracked. The auction house had sent him home with documents explaining that the ship had been docked at the marina and it had been hit by some object during a storm. They’d clearly been mistaken.

“And the rest of her? What shape does she seem to be in?”

“Well, the wood planks on the deck could use a good sanding, but if you’re just talking about integrity, I think she’ll hold up just fine.” Killian and Liam both climbed the ladder Liam had set up, allowing him his first good look at her. “You know about the mast and roping already. A full redo on both of those. But come look at this!”

Killian followed, letting his hand glide upon the metal railing. For the first time, it felt real. Look at this! It’s the original certificate showing the builder. You realize what this means don’t you?”

“That you’re excited she’s older than you are?”

“No! She’s vintage Killian! Once we fix her up, you can sell her for twice what you paid for her! Well done little brother.”

Killian took a deep breath, already out of patience with his brother for the day.

“Liam, I see three things wrong with what you’ve just said. First, it’s younger brother. Second, when exactly did this become a joint endeavor? Just a week ago you thought the very idea of my purchasing her was the single greatest mistake of my life. Thirdly, and listen closely Liam because I’m not going to say this again, I am not selling this boat.”

“Well you are my little brother. And I’m just trying to protect you. Why do you think I worry and watch after you so much?”

“You don’t need to worry about me!”

“Well apparently I do!” There was something about the way Liam’s voice, the way it broke as he screamed the words that tugged at Killian’s heart. “You almost died! I waited and waited while they searched for your body, sure that there was no way you’d survived that storm. And then I waited and waited again at your bedside in the hospital, praying to God that he didn’t take you away from me like he had mother. So don’t you dare tell me that I can’t or shouldn’t worry about you!”

Killian had to will back the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He knew that Liam had been at his bedside in the hospital, but he had never thought of what it must have been like for him getting the call that his brother was lost at sea in a storm. He spent a great deal of time clinging to some wreckage, just trying to stay afloat as the waves crashed over his head, and his body plummeted over and over for what felt like years. Once the storm had passed, he found a piece of the destroyed ship large enough for him to crawl on top of and he let the exhaustion take over. When he woke again it was to intense agony in the hospital ICU.

“Liam, I’m not out there anymore. I’m not adrift at sea anymore. I’m here, and I’m fine.”

“But you aren’t. You aren’t here. You say you are, but I think a part of you died out there that day, and I-” Liam gave up all pretense of hiding, letting the tears flow free, “I think part of you wants to get lost again. Why else are you so intent of fixing up this boat?”

“That’s what you think? That I want to put in all of this work just to go out and vanish into the ocean? Liam, I’m doing this to prove to myself that I can. Because the idea of going back out there sends a bolt of terror through my spine right to my very core. I need to show myself that it was just a freak accident. To get back up on that proverbial horse.”

Liam said nothing, just walked back down to the stern of the boat and down the ladder, walking straight out of the warehouse, leaving Killian alone with the guilt of everything he’d put his brother through. Even as children he was always managing to get into trouble, and poor Liam had always been the one to pick up after him. As he heard Liam’s car start up from the open warehouse door, he couldn’t help but wonder how much more Liam had left in him.

If it weren’t for the fact that he had work at eight in the morning, he very likely would have found himself back at Robin’s, downing a full bottle of rum all on his own. As it stood, he had a debt to Liam, far more than for the agreement he’d made for the warehouse space. He owed his brother everything, and though he couldn’t give Liam the one thing he wanted most, he could give him everything else. He could be the prodigal son in a way. Arrive to work everyday in nice clothes, rubbing elbows with Boston’s elite.

So instead of heading back to Robin’s he went down into the ship’s cabin. The space was small, not that he expected much. The boat was only thirty two feet long, and not that tall. There was enough space for a small kitchenette with a tiny sink and grill top. Across from that stood what should have been a small dinette area. Where a table and bench seat should have been was nothing but wood scraps and moldy torn fabric.

He nearly gagged when he opened the door to the tiny lavatory. The toilet was covered in black mold, or what he hoped was mold as nothing else seemed like an attractive option. And then he went to the bedroom area up at the front of the boat. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect, knowing that the hole was in that area. What he found was nothing though. The bed and mattress had been removed, as well as the padding in the seat next to it. The wood forming the cabinets and closet had been torn out as well, leaving behind only the impressions of where they once fit in.

It was evident that the Jewel needed work when he bought her. And he knew that had he known at the time just how much work she needed at the auction house, he likely still would have bought her. But as he stood there, in the torn apart interior, he couldn’t help but feel scammed by Ariel’s Antiquities. They’d purposefully positioned her in a way that no one could see just what shape she was truly in.

Repairing her would take longer than anticipated, which only meant more time working for Liam. Exhausted, Killia headed back to his one bedroom apartment, crashing nearly the moment his head hit the pillow. The next morning, he rose well before the sun, even without the use of an alarm. Apparently you could take the man out of the navy, but not the navy out of the man.

After a nice run, Killian readied himself for the day by showering. Once dry, Killian placed his sleeve over his stump, followed by the hook he’d become so used to. He then picked out one of his better suits, not that he had all that many to choose from, dressed, combed his hair, and stepped back to take stock of himself in the mirror. It wasn’t a look he was used to. In fact, the last time he’d been dressed in such a way had been his mother’s funeral. He was still a teenager, Liam barely an adult himself, wearing suits they hadn’t yet grown in to.

Not wishing to dwell on that thought any longer, he headed for the door, grabbing his keys from the bowl on the side table.

And that’s when he saw it. The gift that Liam had given him the day before. His brother had left it in the warehouse in his haste to escape, and Killian had grabbed it on his way out, still not sure how he felt about it. He’d never really intended to wear it, not for everyday office use at least, but as he stood there in his suit, feeling completely uncomfortable and out of place, he decided to, just for once, do something for Liam.

It took him a few minutes to undress, removing his suit jacket and dress shirt so that he could disconnect his hook from the shoulder strap. The hand felt clunky on his arm, and it was difficult to get it through his sleeves, but in time he managed.

The drive to Liam’s, and now his office, wasn’t a long one, but at seven in the morning, it may as well have been a full county away. The traffic was horrible, not something he’d become accustomed to driving in. He’d always avoided rush hour like the plague, and now it would be a part of his daily routine. He also found that the hand was difficult to use. Because of his sitting position, it wouldn’t quite clamp shut around the steering wheel the way his hook would have.

By the time he arrived, he was over ten minutes late, and the morning staff meeting had already started. He did his best to sneak in, sitting at the back of the room, hoping to go unnoticed by Liam, but because the world was already against him that day, he failed.

Liam called him up to the front of the room, officially introducing him to everyone as the new head of client relations. Killian gave an awkward wave and that was it. He’d been inducted into the company, and day after day, week after week, he sat at a desk, working up contracts, researching possible leads. His nights were often spent at dinners, flirting with wives and schmoozing husbands into signing with Liam’s company. He hated it, and more still, he hated how little time he had for repairs on the Jewel.

Repairing the hull had been easy. He sent off for a patch kit, a misleading name considering the size of the hole to be touched up. After carefully cutting away the excess damaged fiberglass and setting the patch in place, he waited for the epoxy to harden, sanding down the excess so it was smooth. Aside from the lack of paint, she looked good as new. The hardest part had been placing everything where it needed to go with just one hand.

He soon realized just how difficult repairing the rest of the boat would be. The entryway to the Jewel was narrow, hardly wide enough for one person to enter at a time. He’d never be able to get fully assembled furniture and cabinets in. So slowly, he brought in all of the material, piece by piece. It took time, considering he’d had to carry all of the materials from the parking lot down the dock, and onto the ship. It was exhausting work, and there was still the matter of assembly. It took him weeks to get everything cut just to size, and assembly space had become a real issue after the new bench and table had been installed. Finding a place to store the cabinetry wood had almost broken him. The boat had almost broken him.

But he persevered. Slowly the cabinets came together. The bedroom in the bow of the boat found itself with a bed and a small closet, and the bathroom got a shiny new toilet. After two months, he’d finally finished the interior of the boat. All that stood in his way from land and sea was a new mast, the part Killian had been dreading most.

It was the very first thing Killian had ordered after he’d purchased The Jewel, but as with any special order, it had taken over a month to arrive, and then when it did, it wasn’t even the right size. He and Robin had spent the better part of a day trying to make it work, to somehow force the new mast into place, huffing and puffing at the weight. Hours later, Killian finally admitted defeat, and with shaky arms sent the company a firmly worded email chastising them for their incompetence.

Two full months and one paint job later, a new one arrived. Robin was unable to help him again though. Setting his pride aside, Killian was forced to ask for help. He and his brother’s relationship had soured. It wasn’t that there was ill will between the brothers, but there was a small bit of resentment on Killian’s part. Sometimes it seemed as if Liam was giving him extra work and setting extra meetings for the sole purpose of stalling his repairs. Some of the clients that Liam set him up with were too small to even have shipping needs.

We just want to make sure that they keep us in mind incase the expand Killian. You have to always be selling Killian. It’s called networking Killian.

He’d had enough. Eventually he’d declined enough of Liam’s offers to spend time together on the weekends that Liam had stopped inviting him over. The brothers discussed business needs, but outside of the office, they may aswell have not even have been related. Killian did feel bad. His brother was the only family he had left after all, but there was just the matter of his pride. He’d had so many arguments with Liam in his mind that he couldn’t remember which conversations were real, and which were made up. He just knew that he was right in all of them.

Which is why it was so hard for him to turn to Liam for his help. Unfortunately, the mast weighed a few hundred pounds and while the dock, where the boat finally resided, had a crane to help them move it in place, someone still needed to help him slide it into place and hold it steady as he secured it to the boat. The dock had a firm policy on not helping with certain repairs. They didn’t want to be held liable for any damages or injuries that occurred as a result of human error.

Asking Liam for help had been hard. It took him full two days of building up the courage. He’d nearly walked into Liam’s office three times before turning around at the last minute. Finally, he just had to man up. To his surprise, Liam agreed without much opinion on the matter, and that weekend the two brothers finally made up as they struggled together to install the mast. They tried seating it in place, but despite their best efforts, it was slightly off, leaning just a degree or two. While most people might have shrugged it off, both of the Jones boys were determined to get it in straight.

To the chagrin of the crane worker, they demanded he raise it back up so they could check to make sure the surface was level. Nothing seemed off to the naked eye, but again, the mast wouldn’t sit straight. After one final raising, Killian stuck his hand in the seat, trying to feel if there was bubbling or warping in the wood, and to his surprise, he felt something cold and smoothe, not at all like the wood plank he’d expected. After some fiddling, he was able to loosen the object enough to pull it from its hiding place. It was small, so small he wasn’t surprised that anyone at the auction house had missed it.

Liam, for his part hadn’t said much, but Killian could tell by the way Liam was breathing that his brother was annoyed, not with him but with the delay, and ready to finish working. Killian threw the gold piece in his pocket and together, he and Liam finished installing the mast and all of the rigging lines. Afterwards they went for drinks at Robin’s bar, a place Liam had never been before. They shared a few beers, caught up on all of the things they’d missed in the past few months, and each departed like it was no big deal, both ready for a good night’s sleep.

Killian had hoped to crawl into bed and fall straight asleep, but for some reason, as he laid there, his brain seemed to kick into overdrive. It started with thoughts of how he’d have to map out the currents and winds in the boston area before he could ship out. Before long though, all he could think about was work. He’d planned on leaving Liam’s company as soon as he was done, and while he hated some aspects of the job, he did like the structure it provided him with. It forced him to get back into the world again, something he hadn’t realized that he needed to do until Liam tricked him into it.

Unable to sleep, Killian got up to clean, something that usually relaxed him. He started with the dishes, washing and drying them all by hand before moving on to tend to his laundry. Most of his suit items were dry clean only, but his weekend clothes were soaked with sweat and best washed sooner rather than later. Checking all of the pockets and making sure everything was right-side out, he threw items in the washer one by one until he got to the jeans he’d been wearing that day. He’d managed to completely forget about the trinket he’d found on the boat, until just then.

He finished sorting his clothes and started the machine up before heading back into his bedroom, turning on the nightstand table lamp as he crawled back under the sheets. He let the metal turn in his fingers, inspecting the perfectly polished gold. It was a small locket with a bird etched onto one side. There wasn’t an engraving to go with it and told him nothing about the person who’d lost it. The chain that it was attached to was short and the links where tiny, meaning it likely belonged to a woman, but that was all he was able to gather. He continued to turn the locket, just feeling the weight of it in his hand, the surprising warmth of it, when his finger caught on a hidden clasp and the locket snapped open.

It wasn’t what he’d expected. Most women’s lockets contained tiny photographs, but the inside of this one held a small compass. The opposite side featured an engraving, but it didn’t have any names. It simple read: So you always find your way.

He should have wanted to search for the owner, to return what was probably a meaningful gift. There were plenty of news stories all the time about people helping to reunite lost items and owners. The soldier who had his purple heart stolen. The bride that lost her wedding ring on a beach vacation. They were always happy endings, and he knew that the locket didn’t belong to him, but for some reason, he just felt a call to it. Like he also needed it to help him find his way. So he kept it, slipping it on over his own head, having to pull it past his ears. He fell fast asleep soon after.

The next week at work had been grueling. Liam had lined up three dinners for him, one of them with a very sexually aggressive woman that ran a dog breeding company. Apparently there was a high demand for designer dogs and people were willing to pay high prices to have them shipped over the water during the summer and winter seasons when airlines restricted their pet travel policies. He’d had to pry her off of him at the end of the evening, promising he’d call her soon. A complete lie.

The whole encounter had left him feeling dirty. He hadn’t even so much as looked at a woman since his accident, not really, and he just wasn’t ready to move forward in a romantic capacity, even just a physical one. Not after having his heart shattered before. The woman in question wasn’t even interested in him. Not as anything more than a gigalo.

The weekend couldn’t have arrived fast enough. He just needed to get out of town. To get away from everyone, from his responsibilities. He was ready to hit the water and shed the ghosts he carried around with him. He’d planned meticulously. There were charts filling half of his closet and he’d popped by the Tuesday before to fill the kitchenette with snacks for his inaugural trip. He didn’t have a refrigerator yet so he’d done his best to stick with ready to assemble meals. Nothing big, just some bread and jams. A few tea bags and bottled water in case it got cold out on the water.

The plan had been to set sail just as the sun was rising that Saturday. To greet the new day on the water, but for some reason his alarm hadn’t sounded that morning, and for the first time since he’d joined the navy, he overslept. By the time he made it down to the docks it was just after ten, and the area was filled with people. Families going out on day trips. Tour groups trying to enjoy the last few weeks before the winter season. Before everyone would have to winterize their boats and leave them stored away until spring.

He was lost in his thoughts as he walked along the wood planks at the docks, past other ships, nearly tripping on a rope that someone has carelessly left out. Cursing under his breath, collecting himself from the slight embarrassment of it all, he glanced back at The Jewel. It was hard to see with the sun reflecting back on the water, but for just a few seconds, he could have sworn that he saw a shadow moving along her port side. There was a person on his boat.

It wasn’t unheard of, finding a vagrant living on an unused boat, or some random person lost and on the wrong ship. The Jewel had a very specific and unique paint job though. Mistaking her for any other vessel on the harbor would have been impossible. And he’d been there only a few nights before. He would have seen signs of a stowaway using her for shelter.

That could only mean that whoever was aboard his boat was looking for trouble, and after the morning he’d had, he was more than willing to give it to them. Swearing to himself, he picked up his pace, ready to give the trespasser a piece of his mind, but when he finally made it to The Jewel, she was empty. Thinking perhaps they’d gone below deck, he crept down the narrow stairs, doing his best to avoid making noise. There was no one though. She was empty. Just a trick of the mind.

Feeling foolish, Killian reemerged, on the deck, ready to give all of the lines one final check before setting sail when he heard a noise, a creaky wooden plank from down below. This time he ran, not giving a damn if the person knew he was coming or not. He was ready to find whoever was hiding.

Once again though, he came up empty. Even after searching in all of the cupboards and storage spaces under the kitchen bench and his bed. He checked all of the closets, but there was no one. He was all alone.

It was just in his head. Not surprising considering what a huge step he was about to take. The idea of going back on the water leaving him with an uneasy queasy feeling in his gut. Which was also the exact reason that he needed to do it. Why he’d tried to stress to Liam the importance of buying The Jewel.

He needed to conquer his fear. Even if his brain tried to scare him out of it. Because that’s all it was. A shadow from a person on a boat near his. An old creaky boat groaning from the change in humidity. It was all in his head, and it needed to stay there.

More determined than ever, Killian went back upstairs, ready to set sail, distraction free, but when he emerged from the cabin, he was met once again with an odd sensation. A feeling of being watched.

“Permission to come aboard?”

“Bloody hell, Liam? How long have you been here?”

“Not long.”

And there it was. His older brother, his protector, playing games with his head to place doubt. Liam had done more than his fair share of things to delay the boat becoming ready, but to actually try to scare him away was just too much.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Come again now?”

“I’m talking about you playing games with my head, trying to frighten me away from taking my boat out. You’ve made it very clear that this wasn’t something you wanted me to do, but this is a new form of low, Laim.”

He was furious.

“Killian, I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve only just arrived.”

He watched the elder Jones, the way his brow furrowed. Liam may have been a great many things to Killian, but he’d never known his brother as a liar.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I’ve actually come bearing a gift.”

It was only then that Killian noticed the neatly wrapped bundle in Liam’s left hand. Liam didn’t ask permission again, choosing to come aboard The Jewel to hand the gift to Killian. He felt more than a little guilty for accepting it, especially after having just yelled at his brother, but Liam was insistent.

Carefully he peeled back the wrapping paper, careful not to tear it, lest he find paper scraps for weeks to come blown into every nook and cranky. Inside, he found a book, an old one by the look of it.

“It’s a first edition. Took some time to track down or I would have had it to you sooner.”

The significance of Liam’s thoughtfulness was evident. It was a first edition of Peter Pan. The book their mother used to read to them nightly. Each time she finished, Killian would beg her to start again from the beginning. It was the thing that first ignited his love for the sea.

“Thank you, Liam. This means more than you know.”

Liam just gave him a nod, understanding the emotional weight they both held in that moment.

“I, uh, guess you haven’t checked the stern of the boat just yet?”

It was on his list. First the ropes, then a walk around above deck to ensure everything was properly secured, before walking around the dock to check that everything was good on the exterior.

Intrigued, Killian climbed down from the boat and walked around to the back side of The Jewel. But what he found was that she’d been renamed.

“The Jolly Roger?”

“I very specifically remember you telling mum and me that when you grew up, you were going to own a huge ship, and you were going to name her The Jolly Roger-”

“Just like Captain Hook.”

He’d completely forgotten. As a small eight year old, he was determined that one day he’d own a pirate ship. That he’d sail the seven seas taking whatever he wanted from whoever he wanted. Probably in part because he was sick of getting Liam’s hand me downs.

“I hope you don’t mind. I know she’s not exactly what child Killian had in mind, but you’ve done exactly what you said you were going to do. And I know I’ve been a prick about this entire thing, so I wanted to do something to make up for it. To show you that I really am in your corner.”

Killian was touched. It was possibly the first time his brother had apologized to him since before their mother died. Even then, it was probably the first time he’d ever done it without being scolded into it.

“Thank you, brother.”

There’s one final thing. Last night, Robin and I came out here and installed a motor on the back.” Killian was about to say something, but Liam barreled on. “I know. But I just want to keep you safe. If you should find yourself without wind, you’ll still have a way to get back to shore.”

“Marvelous.” His annoyance only slightly tempered by Liam’s attempt at a kind gesture.

From his inside coat pocket, Liam produced a manual for the motor. ‘A guide to your new Stern Mounted Electronic Engine.’ He had to give it to Liam. He’d thought of everything. Even a Mr. SMEE.

Together, he and Liam set about getting The Jolly ready. After checking everything over twice, they finally set out, both men trying not to hold their breath as the docks become smaller and smaller. After about thirty minutes, they were able to relax, realizing that the ship hadn’t yet sunk, and likely wouldn’t anytime soon.

The trip was relaxing for the most part. The brothers argued still, as Killian realized that Liam had completely rearranged all of the food in the kitchenette. It wasn’t surprising and he’d seen Liam do it at his house, whenever Elsa would just quickly throw things back in the pantry. But what did shock him was how Liam adamantly denied it, even though Killian knew he’d left the tea bags in the cupboard above the tiny stove top, not under the sink. And the chips had been moved as well as other items. Still though, Liam swore he hadn’t touched them.

Killian eventually let it go, finding it not worth bickering over anymore than they already had. The real fist-to-cuffs came at the end of the day, as the two men had already redocked and were setting the boat back to rights. Liam had grabbed the trash and told Killian that he was going to take it all to the dumpster in the parking lot while Killian secured all of the sails.

Liam couldn’t have been gone for more than a minute when Killian stood to turn and move on to the other sail when he slipped and fell flat on his back. It hurt more than he wanted to admit, and in his haste to stop himself from falling, he’d somehow managed to catch his hook in the jib sail, tearing it as he fell.

Killian took a moment to compose himself, waiting for the sting of hitting his back on the rail to subside. He must have taken longer than he realized, because by the time he sat back up he heard Liam call his name and scramble across the boat to check on him.

Killian assured him that he was fine, or that he would be as Liam helped him back up. Careful of his steps, he turned to see just what exactly he’d slipped on when he caught sight of small water puddles in the shape of shoe prints. Absolutely sure that Liam had made them somehow, the two brothers had it out, causing Liam to storm away in a huff once more.

Killian stayed long enough to dry all of the water and to watch the sunset over the horizon before heading back to his place to grab a much needed ice pack. His back was still sore two hours later, so he opted for a shower instead hoping that the warm water might help soothe the muscles.

Slowly he undressed, trying not to twist or bend too much. Catching just a glimpse of himself in the mirror are he removed the small gold locket he’d found, he caught sight of his red cheeks, realising that even in October, he’d still managed to get a bit too much sun.

Getting to sleep had been tough. It was only after a glass or two, or three of rum that he was able to find a comfortable position. He drifted off, dreaming of being a child again. Of Neverland and Captain Hook.

The next morning he was still quite sore, so he’d opted not to take a second trip out on the water. Instead, he’d spend the day shopping for groceries and flicking through television programs until he settled on Wicked Tuna. Before he knew it, it was time to ready himself for bed and another dreaded week at work.

It ended up not being as bad of a week as he expected it to be. Liam hadn’t scheduled any meetings for him outside of normal office hours, and the clients that came into the office to settle contracts all seemed relatively normal for once. The brothers had quazied made up, but both felt it was best if Liam didn’t go out with Killian again for a while.

By the time the next weekend came, Killian was eager to set sail again, alone. No distractions. No mind games. Just him and The Jolly. Unable to hide the gold chain under his work shirt, Killian had chosen to leave the compass at home all week, but slid it back over his head before getting in his car to drive down to the water.

For a few moments he worried that his plans would be dashed as his car had refused to turn on. The starter trying to turn over and failing. Finally though, he got her started and headed straight for the docks.

He went through his usual routine, checking everything over, checking the weather once more. It was a little windier than he would have preferred, but the local station said that the wind would die down a bit by mid day. With everything ready, he set out, heading up the coast line just a bit.

The wind stayed stead for nearly four hours, despite the weather stations promise, and at one point, his life preserver ring had managed to come loose and blow straight off the ship. Not wanting to waste sixty dollars on a new one, he turned into the wind, stalling the boat, and dove dove in after it. A foolish endeavour on his part, considering he was alone if anything had gone wrong, but he figured if he could just get to the ring, he’d be fine.

The water was colder than he’d expected. In the navy he’d done cold water drills, letting his body adapt to it. But it had been a year, and his body simply wasn’t used to it yet. The moment he hit the water, his leg cramped up, and for just a second, he sunk under the surface of the water as he grabbed at his leg. When he resurfaced, it was with a mouth full of salt water. His nose burned and his eyes stung.

Once he managed to make it to the preserver, he tried wiping his eyes, but it only made things worse. Looking around to see just how far he was from The Jolly, his eyes had difficulty focusing. Everything became blurry as it felt like he’d had sandpaper rubbed against his cornea. At one point, it looked as if there was a figure standing at the bow of the boat. An impossibility given how far out he was and the lack of other boats.

He closed his eyes, giving them a few minutes to calm down, and when he reopened them, the figure was gone, and The Jolly was more in focus. Killian managed to swim back to the boat, a freezing mess in his wet clothes. He hadn’t actually thought about bringing a change of clothes with him for such a short journey. He stood there on the deck a shivering mess, ready to give up on the day.

As he tried to turn the wheel he began to feel slightly warmer. The wind had finally died down just as local weather woman Alfina Merryweather had promised, except that Merriweather had neglected to mention that her version of a slight breeze was actually a dead stop.

There was nothing, not even the slightest hint of movement. He waited and waited, at one point removing his clothes and doing his best to squeeze as much water out as he could. He thought of Liam, of how his brother would probably be worried if he didn’t hear from him soon. Thoughts that eventually reminded him of the motor his brother had installed for just such an occasion. The motor that Killian never wanted, and certainly wasn’t going to admit to using.

It took him forty two minutes to read the manuel enough to understand what he was doing, the whole thing one long novel of gibberish. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, and how many times he went through the manuel again, twenty minutes later he was just as stuck as before.

After another thirty minutes of attempting to start it and pretending that hyperthermia wasn’t a real threat, he finally caved, ready to call for help over the radio to a towing company. But the radio was just as dead as SMEE, and all of his calls for help were met with static. He began to worry, checking his phone to see the time only to realize that his phone was dead as well. He continued to plea for assistance, the static only becoming louder, eventually there was a spark as he felt a strange nasty shock from the microphone

He jumped back, yelling every curse word he could think of until he was nearly hoarse. Just as he’d quieted, shaking out his hand, he’d heard it. A creaky noise coming from above deck, The same sound he’d heard on his first day out. The sound of boards buckling under the weight of a person. He was sure of it this time, unless the jolt had managed to shock his brain too.

Slowly he crept back up the stairs, feeling every hair raise along his arm as he went. Something felt off. Something just felt very very wrong. But he persisted still, opening the door as quietly as possible. He crept along the deck, treading lightly as not to make any noise. As he moved high enough to see the front of the boat, he noticed a figure. An eerie ethereal blur of a woman.

But before he could say anything she turned and looked right at him. He watched her for a moment, as she seemed to float above the bow of the boat, somehow both there and not quite real. And then her mouth opened, and with the anguished scream of a hundred voices at once, she yelled at him to get out.

He nearly fell as he scrambled backwards, feeling his heart in his throat, trying to leap clear from his body. And just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone. He was paralyzed in fear, completely unable to move when he heard the boat’s engine spring to life, snapping him out of his trance.

[writerwithacat]

(So Pretty With Their) Button-Up Shirts

A/N: Title from girls by girl in red.

summary:

Alya and Marinette have a sleepover. They raid Marinette’s closet.

pairings: Alya/Marinette

warnings: None that I can think of! Let me know if I missed any.

also on ao3.

     Marinette lingered by the doorway, fidgeting with her jacket. The doorbell suddenly rang. She nearly tripped as she hurried to open the door. 

     “Alya! Come in!” 

     Alya stood outside, a large bag hanging from her shoulder. Her phone was sticking out from her jean pockets, her hand the only thing keeping it in place. 

     Alya stepped inside. “Hey girl!” She hugged Marinette. Her overstuffed bag knocked against their legs.

     “Let’s go up to my room,” Marinette said with a smile, “you can put down that Godzilla of a bag.” 

     Alya laughed. “It’s not that big! I’m just bad at packing.”

     “That doesn’t make it any better!” Marinette started up the stairs to her room. Alya stuck out her tongue and followed. 

     Marinette helped Alya pull her bag up through the trapdoor and set it beside the chaise lounge. 

     Alya sat down on the chaise lounge. “So, are you working on anything right now?”

     “Not really,” Marinette answered, nodding at her bare dress form, “but I’ve been sketching and I have some ideas that I might do something with.” 

     “Whatever you make will be amazing, as always,” Alya said. She got up and opened Marinette’s closet doors. “I mean, look! Your sense of style? Incredible.”

     “Well, you’re really pretty too!” Marinette said without thinking. She blinked. “Uh, you know… Your face— I mean, your fashion sense! It’s… Good.” She walked up to the closet and stared at one of her favourite shirts, resolutely ignoring the embarrassed heat in her cheeks without knowing why. “But thank you.”

     Alya pulled out a long wine red skirt and held it out appraisingly. “Do you think this’d look cute on me?” 

     “It would look fantastic on you.” Marinette suddenly clapped her hands together. “You should try it on!” 

     Alya slipped it on over her jeans and twirled. The skirt spread out as she spun, hitting Marinette’s legs. Marinette giggled and stepped backwards. 

     Alya dizzily came to a stop and grabbed Marinette’s arm to steady herself. Her smile was nearly as big as her bag. “Let’s have a fashion show.”

     “Like, try on my clothes?”

     “Mmhmm. It’ll be so cool!” 

     Marinette grinned and started looking through her closet. She took out a white button-up shirt. “This would look cute with that skirt.” 

     Alya pulled out a simple short-sleeved pale pink dress that reached Marinette’s knees. “This would look amazing on you!” She took the shirt from Marinette and gave her the dress. 

     Marinette slipped into the bathroom to change. When she returned, Alya had changed as well. Alongside the shirt and flowing skirt, she had found a silky red chiffon scarf. In Marinette’s opinion, she looked absolutely gorgeous. 

     “Woah, you look incredible!”

     “Girl, have you looked at yourself?” Alya said. 

     Marinette laughed, embarrassed, and stared down at her dress. Alongside the dress, she’d decided to wear the same black jacket she typically wore. 

     “What should we try on next?” Alya asked, already turning back to the closet. 

     Marinette hurried to catch up to her. “I have something that reminds me of you,” she said. She grabbed a peach dress and white belt out of the back of her closet and presented them to Alya. 

     “I love it,” Alya proclaimed, “I’m going to try them on right now.” She hugged the clothing close, the belt dangling over her arms.

     “Go change in the bathroom,” Marinette said. “I’m going to try and find something for me to wear.” 

     Alya scurried off to the bathroom while Marinette looked through the closet. She took out a short white dress before noticing a tan romper. She hesitantly put back the dress back. I wonder which Alya would think is cute, she thought.

    Marinette held the romper up against herself in front of the mirror. After a moment of deliberation, she remembered Alya would be returning soon and quickly slipped it on. 

     “Hey, Marinette?” 

     Marinette startled. She’d hadn’t noticed Alya entering. She turned to face her. “Yes?” 

     “Could you help me button up my dress? I can’t get the last couple.” 

     “Oh. Sure!”

     Alya turned around so that Marinette could see the buttons. She began to carefully do them up. She felt her skin grow warm. Her fingers were nearly brushing Alya’s back. She did up the last button. 

     “Thanks!” Alya said, stepping away. “So… What do you think?” She spun around so she was facing Marinette, grinning and playing with one of the curls that framed her hazel eyes like water flowing around stones peeking out of a river. 

     “Beautiful,” Marinette blurted. Her eyes widened and she blinked rapidly once she realized what she’d said. She wanted to run away and become a mime. “Uh— I mean, you look amazing, Alya!” 

     “You look beautiful too,” Alya said. “Have you always owned that?” 

     Marinette felt like she was going to explode. She called me beautiful. Oh my god. I’m having a crisis. Marinette tried to smile calmly. She was pretty sure she looked like a dying clown instead. “Thank you! It’s new.”

     “Kids, it’s time for dinner,” Tom Dupain-Cheng said, popping his head through the trapdoor. “Oh, have you girls been dressing up?” 

     “Yeah,” Marinette said without turning to look, “We’ll be down in a second, Papa.” She heard the sound of the trapdoor shutting. 

     “Do you want me to take this off before dinner?” Alya asked, running her fingers over the edge of the dress. 

     “No, you can wear it for now.” Marinette had to pull her gaze away from Alya. She opened the trapdoor and went downstairs. Alya followed right behind her. 

    They sat down beside each other at the table. Alya quickly launched into a ramble about the wonders of Ladybug. Marinette felt herself focusing more on Alya than the conversation. 

     Soon, their plates were empty except for a few crumbs. Their conversation continued. It was apparent to anyone listening that Alya was a huge fan of Ladybug. 

     Marinette knew she did a lot of good as Ladybug. She was a literal superhero. But it was one thing to know and another thing entirely to hear one of the most important people in the world to you say it out loud. She felt a warm feeling in her chest, a mixture of pride and embarrassment. She felt loved. 

      She wished she could tell Alya how much she did for Paris (for Ladybug, for her) with the Ladyblog. She wished she could convey how much she loved Alya back. But she knew that’s not what best friends were supposed to feel about each other, so she swallowed her words and wished that Alya could know how much she cared. 

     “Marinette and I are going to head back up to her room,” Alya said, standing up from her seat. “Thank you for the lovely dinner!”

     “Have fun, girls,” Sabine said with a smile. 

     “I’ll be up in a second,” Marinette said. She brought her and Alya’s plates to the kitchen then turned back towards the stairs. She found Alya waiting beside the ladder up to her room. 

     “Hey Marinette,” Alya said, leaning forward, “I’ve got something I want to show you.” 

     “Oh? What is it?” 

     Alya held a finger up to her own mouth in a shushing motion. “Not yet! I’ll show you when we’re in your room, okay? It’s a surprise.” 

     “Sure,” Marinette responded automatically. She climbed up the ladder on autopilot. Instead, her mind was whirring with wild scenarios and possibilities, her heart thumping in her chest with unwarranted hope. She didn’t know why her mind was set off at a couple words from one of her closest friends— excitement she could understand, but this was something that permeated through her entire body, a thrill that she only felt around her. 

     Alya led her over to her chaise lounge and motioned for her to sit down. “Close your eyes,” she said as she knelt beside her overflowing bag.

     Marinette obediently shut her eyes and waited. She could hear clothing being pushed to the floor. She focused on the rustling of Alya’s bag, trying to ignore her impatience.

     “Ta-da!”

     Marinette felt something being pushed into her hand. She opened her eyes to see a necklace dangling from her hand. 

     It was obviously homemade, mismatched beads strung onto craft store thread. The thin, cream, thread was hard to see past all of the spherical wooden beads. They were pink and red, their sizes ranging from pea to grape. A black star-shaped plastic pendant was squished in between two of the larger beads. 

     Marinette looked up to see Alya looking at her expectantly, still waiting for a response. Marinette searched for the words to describe her appreciation (she loved it, she loved her). A nervous smile adorned Alya’s face. Her red-brown waves of hair hung over the beauty mark Marinette felt tempted to trace over and over again. 

     “Alya,” Marinette said, “this is… incredible.” Nearly as incredible as you. She slipped the necklace on over her head. “Thank you so, so, much.”

     All of the quiet tension dropped away. Alya hugged Marinette like she was the last lifeboat on a sinking ship. “I’m so glad you like it.” 

      Marinette was frozen, unable to move in a way no akuma could cause. She was hyperaware of everything brushing against her skin: Alya’s soft strands of hair, the bumps of the beads, the rough fabric of her romper, the silky dress Alya wore. 

      In a moment of clarity, she realized how ridiculous she must look, practically immobile in the arms of her best friend, her mouth hanging open, and how amazingly happy she felt. 

     She closed her eyes and hugged Alya back, smiling wider than the sun. Her chest was tight and warm, as if her feelings had been transformed into a fire. 

     Maybe this wasn’t how best friends were supposed feel about each other, but maybe (she hardly dared to think; her mind was burning brighter than her chest, than her heart) Alya could be more than a best friend.

[it-will-not-last-the-night]

Moment

For @ryukitaweek

Prompt: ‘Free Day’

Synopsis: Early morning Ryuji would ensure the two met, in front of his home, before they’d depart on their morning jog. After all someone had to ensure Yusuke got the exercise his body so badly needed and who better than his fitness freak of a boyfriend?

“And here…we are,” Ryuji announced their arrival and came to a halt, turning to watch Yusuke some feet behind him. The two had taken an early morning jog, a habit Ryuji had insisted on his boyfriend picking up, coming to a halt upon the crest of a small hill. Although he could feel the sweat dripping down his back Ryuji was only mildly winded, the short route he’d picked out being one he wanted to share with Yusuke, and thus obviously not intended to be to much of a challenge.

“At…last…we made it…” Ryuji couldn’t help but give a bit of a chuckle as Yusuke finally caught up, panting heavily, promptly and unceremoniously collapsing on to the soft grass with his arms splayed out.

“Dude, c’mon, don’t overreact, you’re getting better at this every time,” he kneeled down next to the wheezing artist, slinging a rucksack off his back. Yusuke rolled over with a groan, slender chest rising and falling in time to every breath. Before them the sun was still climbing upwards in what was, Yusuke assured Ryuji many a time, an indisputably artistic manner. Although even a year after starting to date a professional art student Ryuji still confessed to having no actual eye for the stuff, he did want to make their little excursions fun for Yusuke too. So, as a sort of reward, he’d plotted out a short route to a scenic spot, so at the end of every run-

“And here we go,” he unzipped the bag, rifling through its contents, as Yusuke dragged himself closer, instinctively reaching for the sketchpad inside. “Nuh-uh, not yet,” Ryuji pushed his hand away, bringing out a water bottle and thrusting it towards him; “Hydration first, then sketch, we’ve been over this, ya know I don’t want ya getting dehydrated,” Yusuke took the offered bottle with a sullen look, “Then why do you keep insisting on dragging me around on these death runs,” Ryuji rolled his eyes at the tone, lying down on the grass next to Yusuke, folding his hands behind his head.

“You know I only do it ‘cause I love ya dude, it’s for your own good and it’s really helping to fill you out too,” Yusuke sniffed at the comment, curling up into a sitting position, now free at last to extract his sketchpad.

“So, this is just so you can objectify me further?”

“I mean…I ain’t about to start complaining, but the only reason I do this is to keep you healthy, it’s practically my job to make sure the worlds future number one artist stays in fit,” Yusuke allowed a smile to steal on to his face at that, Ryuji chuckling at the endearing sight as he fixed his eyes on the sun ahead. “Now come on, you gonna draw me something or not?”

Minutes passed on from then, Ryuji relaxing against the grass, allowing himself to just wallow in the moment. He’d told Ren he didn’t intend to go back to doing running as a sport, as an activity, at school or such and, for the most part, this was still true. But, despite the mixture of joy and pain it had brought him in the past, he was glad for the chance to share the activity with Yusuke. In some way these little excursions gave both of them a small window into something about the other they didn’t fully understand; what running meant to Ryuji and why he took it so seriously, and what the art Yusuke created conveyed and how it was inspired.

Ryuji did notice, through the session, Yusuke stealing furtive glances at him rather frequently, but he didn’t pay these any mind. Soon enough the blaring of his phone’s alarm interrupted their serene little moment, and, with a sigh, Ryuji sat upright, beginning to pack away the water bottles.

“You almost done there?” Ryuji leaned in over Yusuke as he asked, arm wrapping around the boy’s slender shoulders. Personal space had, luckily, not been an issue for the two, both prone already to inserting themselves into other’s spaces, had no difficulty adapting to doing it to each other.

“Wow…Yusuke that’s…” the sketch was a portrait of Ryuji himself, the mystery of Yusuke’s furtive glances now made clear, a depiction of the blonde boy lying spread out on the grass, eyes trained on something in the distance.

“I had hoped to do a bit more of a touch up,”

“No way! It looks amazing but…if you wanted to do a picture of me, we could have done it anywhere?” Yusuke’s head cocked to the side, as if the very essence of Ryuji’s question confused him; “But…I did not want to capture something staged, I wanted a natural moment. Besides, in all fairness Ryuji, I’ve captured this particular sunrise about a dozen times now. A moment of you is considerably more valuable,” that brought the blush to Ryuji’s cheeks, bright and hot, as the blonde boy waved his arms before himself as if warding the embarrassment away; “Ah, dude, don’t just say it like that, you’re killing me here,”

“Ah! Hold that! This moment, I can still capture it!” Unconcerned by his boyfriend’s flailing Yusuke’s eyes lit with vigour as he turned to face Ryuji, scribbling away. “Don’t draw me now! And don’t let mom see that other one either, or she’s gonna be coddling us for a week!”

Ryuji grunted, slinging the rucksack over one shoulder, starting to stand up. “Now come on, we gotta get back down before-” with a thud Yusuke fell face first on to Ryuji, pinning the blonde boy down beneath him.

“Um…Yusuke? Uh…I love ya too, but maybe we can do this when we aren’t, ya know, drenched in sweat?” Ryuji gave an awkward smile, one hand shifting Yusuke’s weight, which wasn’t much, to the side, so that the slender boy now curled against Ryuji’s side.

“…I cannot feel my legs,” Yusuke reported it with the same tone as someone commenting on the mildness of the weather.

“What?” Ryuji responded.

“My legs, I feel no sensation. I fear you have finally robbed them of all vitality and strength. Alack and alay,” a silence lingered, and not only because Ryuji had no idea what the words alack or alay meant.

“Dude.”

“Ryuji?”

“I’m not carrying you, not again, okay? I told you I’m not gonna carry you down every time, I’m not, so don’t even think I’m gonna do it-“

Ultimately Ryuji carried Yusuke back down to his home where, without hesitation, Yusuke revealed the rudimentary sketch to his lover’s mother who proceeded, as predicted, to coddle the two the way only a mother could.

[dotzines]

Artist spotlight: LEMONSQUEAZIE!

✿ Ko-fi ✿ Twitter ✿ Tumblr ✿ Youtube

Header source: [X]  

Introduce yourself Hi! I'm Lem and I've wanted to try focusing on things other than people in my work for a while now! I'm into deltarune, mystic messenger, and (recently) Moomin! When did you start drawing? Are you a digital or traditional artist? I started drawing seriously in 2012 when a friend got me to learn how to draw with them! I'm a digital artist! Do you use any traditional mediums? If so, which are your favorites? Yes! I'm in love with brush/calligraphy/fude pens and watercolour!

image source: [X]   Why do you prefer traditional over digital? (or viceversa) I get to explore colours more easily without having to worry about soaking the paper, mixing wrongly, or even running out of supplies! What do you think is the most challenging part about being a traditional/digital artist? In the beginning there's definitely the transition to smoothly using digital art! It takes a while to use it so comfortably and freely that your digital sketches have the same life as your traditional ones, which I think is why some people still make their sketches on paper and transfer it over to finish in digital! What inspires your pieces? Feelings! They're very momentary and hard to accurately remember so I suppose finding ways to capture them and package them in a picture is a very strong inspiration for me ◝(●˙꒳˙●)◜

image source: [X]   Explain your "everyday" drawing process I begin from a vague idea of the general feeling of a piece and the elements that should be in it, eg. the feeling of wonder + grass being pushed by the wind + some flowers at the side Then I just throw around some sketches of how to arrange these elements and what colours I could use! I make tweaks and when it seems nice enough I merge the sketch and colour layer and just start painting from there! Eventually I'll settle on what seems to be the finished piece and I adjust the colours and details again before properly saving it as a flat image! Do you have an artist you admire (or more than one)?

Oh I have a few! My favourites so far are:rollround ( https://twitter.com/rollround ) Cheryl's colours just make everything look so fun and alive! The way everything is both so detailed and comfortably simplistic/soft just speaks to my heart! I look forward to their prints the most every time I go to an artist alley!PlanetarianPwes ( https://instagram.com/planetarianpwes ) Pwes' faces and the way they use watercolours is just so good, and their OCs and AUs have such good stories behind them and the most interesting and varied designs I've seen! Following along with their characters' journeys shows you just how good their storytelling through their AUs is! I admire the most how they can manage to convey not only atmosphere but narrative as well!vi-6w6 ( https://vi-6w6.tumblr.com ) Annie's art was basically my role model in my early art years since I'm always in awe of how energetic and dynamic they are! Just her style and the way she lays down lines alone is enough to make even a static pose feel alive!tc2oh ( https://twitter.com/tc2oh ) Semi's colours and comics are amazing! The way they choose colours to make things look almost holographic at times, and just their general colour sense is my favourite thing! Even without that, their lineweights make their artwork stand out even in their comics! Also they draw lips so so good! I fell in love first in semi's comic (bomic) which is on line webtoon! Is there an artwork you are most proud of? Why? Yes! this guy ( https://twitter.com/lemonsqueazie/status/1118126304698613762 ) was actually made when I was switching art programmes to krita and finally got the hang of it! It's also the piece that got me out of my mini art-block at the time, I think!

Do you listen to music (or tv shows/films/anything else) when drawing? I usually just let youtube autoplay take me around a bunch of popular Japanese songs and artists like eve and kenshi yonezu and recently kamiyama you, and also the occasional utaite! Otherwise I go to find some friends' playlists or use my own (which is literally just a giant collection of things ranging from kazoo covers (you know the ones) to musicals and live concerts), I'm not all that picky!

image source: [X]   What makes art interesting for you? At its most basic it gives my hands something to do and that's always nice, but being able to create something that can always continue to exist and hold so much meaning that can keep changing is really neat, I think! What do you do when art block strikes? My main go-to is to switch mediums for a while (eg. going back to traditional, or even grabbing art materials I haven't used in a while, or switching programmes, or trying out new brushes) before going back to what I needed to finish! But recently I've been trying to focus on what's been causing the art block: eg. If I'm frustrated with drawing faces, I doodle a bunch of faces in a different and more indulgent way than I usually do before going back to what I was doing!If the problem is getting motivation to start, I watch speedpaints! Seeing how something so beautiful can start from absolutely nothing and work its way through to completion is my favourite thing ♡ What’s the most valuable art advice you’ve ever received?

"Aim to finish" or something along those lines! It was for a design project of sorts, but it's one of the most important things I need to take into account more often ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` ) especially in zine work! Oftentimes I can't pinpoint when the work is complete and is better to leave as-is and I'm working on finding and planning completion points too!

[oatsn-honey]

simple words

Masterlist

Summary:  Zelda was concerned for him -- he had been awfully quiet that day. She wondered, "Is this the breaking point?" (zelink, post-botw, zelda pov)

Hiya! So, I just got botw, and I am now officially o b s e s s e d (seriously, send help). I thought that I would give writing for this amazing game a shot, so without further delay, enjoy!

~~~~~~

We had been sitting outside his home for a while, listening to the fire crackling and watching the sun slowly disappear off the horizon. While it was indeed serine, I still worried. He had been awfully quiet today -- since the fall of the poisoning malice, he had begun to open up more, acting silly and showing his emotions. I tapped my wooden pencil against my leather-bound notebook, sighing softly and turning to gaze at him. His knees were pulled up to his chest, and he had his arms wrapped around them. His head rested against his knees, disheveled blonde hair cascading down.

I stared a while longer, my eyebrows furrowing, studying how the fading sunlight illuminated his body’s outline and grazed his face with ethereal glow, bouncing from his freckled skin. I turned to a blank page in my notebook, hoping to capture the picture. I bit the inside of my cheek, and with silent fervor began to doodle. I managed to finish sketching out the drawing just as the first stars began to litter the sky. I wanted desperately to show him, but felt off about doing so. So instead, after refining the drawing somewhat, I began to aimlessly map out some Guardian parts.

Suddenly, accentuated with a shaky breath, he turns to me, “Zelda,” he whispers, glancing up at me through his long bangs, “Do you ever feel your chest and heart convulse with the need to cry… but you just… can’t?” I inhaled sharply, surprised by his abrupt words, but remained silent. I could tell there was something else he wanted to say.

I stealthily slid closer to him, leaving my book and pencil behind. My body gently nudged his, and I felt him flinch, but I did not back away. “W-well, I guess I do know what you mean,” I started awkwardly, gulping, “kind of.” He spared me a questioning look. I continued, “What makes you feel this way, Link?” I knew I was never the best at providing comfort to others, but I would try. Before he could start speaking, I tagged on a firm, but kind reminder, “I’m always here to listen to you.”

He hid away, his words muffled, “I-I just… I’m- I’m so l-lonely,” he stuttered, voice weak. “I don’t even know w-why. I have you, and- and I just…,” his voice broke, “I’m so…”

My lips made a grim line. Sighing softly, my silky strands moving with the exhalation of breath, I closed the small gap between us, my hand nudging his leg. Several silent moments passed.

Eventually, my fingers brushed his cheek. I tenderly cupped his face, and he lifted his head just enough for his eyes to peek through his messy bangs. We locked gazes and I stared, entranced, into his ocean orbs, the sea color crashing with waves of built up emotions trying to spill over the edge of a wall. Tears pooled in the corners, and I felt my stomach clench and heart ache. He took a shuddering breath. “Zelda, I’m so sad.”

I dropped my hand from his freckle-splattered cheek and I swallowed, unsure of what to say, “I-I’m,” I snapped my mouth closed. My silence was deafening, and soon he was curling further into himself, shoulders quaking as silent cries racked his body. Tears dripped slowly down my face as I stared at my trembling hands. What was I supposed to do?

I couldn’t take it anymore. I launched myself forward, wrapping my arms around his shaking body and pulling him into me, “Link, Link, I’m so sorry,” I whispered into his hair as he clutched the front of my shirt.

The dam broke. Tears spurted from his eyes and his body trembled with labored, rapid breathing. He rubbed his palms on his face, sobs racking his body and making his voice jump, “Zelda, help, I’m tired of being sad! I’m tired of feeling alone! Nothing matters and everything matters! Everyday is a struggle, and I just can’t keep going! I-I,” He choked on his words leaning into my embrace, “I’m not good enough! Everything is always my fault! Maybe if I had trained harder or had been more careful, none of this would’ve happened -- I would’ve stopped Ganon one hundred years ago, and then maybe-maybe I wouldn’t be so lonely!” He tried to breathe, chest heaving.

“I’m so afraid. And I’m so confused.” He weeped into my shirt, soaking it with his tears.

“I know,” I uttered, trying to silence my own crying.

“Where are all of these emotions coming from?! There are so many of them!” He yelled, causing my heart to wrench painfully.

“I-I know.”

“They’re eating me up! Controlling my life! They make my heart burn, and they make me sick,” He gasped into my drenched shirt, “I make myself sick. I hate myself so much. Why am I even alive? I don’t want to live like this anymore, I don’t want to live, I-” He couldn’t say anymore, and curled into me, hands clenching the material of my clothes tighter. After several minutes of grieving, with whimpers falling from his lips, he spoke hoarsely, “What do I do, Zelda?”

“I don’t know,” I sniveled, failure and helplessness bubbling in my chest. I hugged him tighter, crying into his golden locks.

He looked up at me, eyes swollen and bloodshot, tears dripping from his chin, face flushed, and eyes so pained, and breathed, “I just want to be happy.”

~~~~~~

“Zelda, I’m so sad,” Is what he had said, broken down and sobbing openly for the first time in our long lives. I had told him, “I know,” and tried to convince him (and myself) that I truly understood what was happening. But, did I? I don’t think I did fully, no. I was confused, just as he, and didn’t know how to help. I had certainly felt that, the helplessness, before. Perhaps it was the most common emotion in my life. But, knowing that I had no way to provide true, immediate comfort to my friend, my love, was truly heartbreaking. Even more so, I had to accept that these feelings of his weren’t new, certainly not. They had been present long before the Calamity. He had been suffering this for longer than he could literally remember. And I was utterly oblivious. That was the epitome of uselessness.

~~~~~~

Dismal. Sorrowful. Despairing. Despondent. Heartbroken. Distressed. Doleful. Grieved. Somber. Wistful. Dejected.

There were so many words he could’ve used. So many words that conveyed so much more. But, he said “I’m so sad.” Sad. What does that word even mean? What does it mean to be truly sad? The way it seemed to me, that small snippet of a word was a mashed up combination of every word, and so many more, listed above that could only be described as the word it was; sad.

That three letter word held more power than the Calamity itself. It could break the strongest of soldiers with a single, undetectable blow. Did it break my knight? I wondered if there was any word that was strong enough to combat it. A word capable of overpowering it and bring another simple word to light; happy. That was another word he had used -- “I just want to be happy.”

Could a word even simpler than sad prevail? That would be the test, the hope. For the word that was put against the formidable three letters was I. I would fight his sadness. I was determined to see him smile and hear him laugh. I was going to piece him back together, even if it was the last thing I did. I was going to love Link. And he was going to be happy.

~~~~~~

Hopefully it wasn't too sad haha. Also, this is a bit of an experiment, because I’ve never written in a character’s pov, so hopefully it wasn’t too bad. To be honest, this was a vent fic I wrote at 3 am, so I don't expect it to be all that good. But, I do have another Zelda fic coming out, so stay tuned! Well, that's all for today. Have a great day, and eat and drink plenty! <3

(p.s. let me know if you're interested in a second chapter for this)

[franeridart]

Hi! Idk if you read fanfic, but would you happen to have any kiribaku fic recs? Or any bnha fic rec?

I’m pretty sure there’s stuff tagged as fic recs on this blog, yes! Nothing particularly new tho, I haven’t had the time to put down a new rec-list in a while ;-;

Anon said:How long does it take you to finish a drawing with and without color?

That honestly depends on a lot of factors - which tools I’m using, how many characters there are in the drawing/if it’s full body or not, how used to drawing the character I am, how big is the canvas, if I already have a clear idea of what I mean to draw or not, how precise I want to be with lines and stuff. 

That Yuuto sketch I posted yesterday took me about 40 minutes I think, and over half of it was spent trying to figure out how I was supposed to draw him since it was the first time I drew him - the tools I used are the ones I use when I want to be fast and don’t care about being sloppy. A small random Kirishima bust properly lined and colored could take me five minutes to sketch and line and as many to color on a good day, cause I’ve drawn him so many times by now I don’t even have to think to draw him. Deku, on the other hand, can take me an hour even just to sketch, I can’t seem to grasp how I’m supposed to draw him at all.

Sorry, it really depends on a lot of things, I can’t give a proper answer to this :(

Anon said:Ive been tryin to find ur art of sero carrying baku for like 20 minutes n i cant find it :(

Are you talking about this one? Or this one? There’s also this one I guess...? And maybe this one lol 

Anon said:yoooo, hey man, that cat kiribaku thing ya got going on is some 👌👌👌👌👌

HECK THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Has anyone ever considered Hadmie. Hadou x Camie before?? It just seems like it'd be a cute ship to sail with, tbh. That just might be me tho.

I dunno if anyone has before you, but I can’t say I have, sorry! If I gotta ship Nejire with someone after all it’s gonna be Yuyu haha

Anon said:Hey do you do commissions? I really love your art and I'd love to get a commission from you!! (and also I just wanna know if there's yet another thing that I have to save up for XD)

Not right now, sorry! Maybe after I’m done with the zine things!!

Anon said:*runs around like an excited puppy* DAVEDAVEDAVEDAVEDAVEDAVEDAVE!!!!!!! :D

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D

Anon said:AHHH i love your ocs so much also Nico looks so cute and i love learning new things about them

AAAHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH OH MY G O D!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:KIRI + PINEAPPLE PONYTAIL = THE BEST THING EVER

I’M GLAD WE AGREE ON THAT

Anon said:your oc's literally kill me!! i already love nico, and i think i speak for everyone when i say that we definitely want more of him and luca!! i don't know if it's just me, but I love when the angry, swearing types fall for someone.

SOB thank you so so much for the kind words about my kids ;^;

Anon said:OH MY GOD LUCA IS BACK!!!! YESSSSSSSS FUCKING KILL ME THIS IS A BLESSED DAY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. MORE OF YOUR OC'S!!! (only when you want to share of course, I'm just trying to convey my enthusiasm here. not demanding at all ^^)

I think that might happen soon enough, actually!!!! Thank you so much for the interest in them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Are josh and chris still not dating?

Sadly until I’ll sit down to write their story that specific part of it won’t go anywhere :( Chris gotta deal with a bunch of things before he’ll be ready to put a name to what’s between him and Josh 3 one day I’ll let him work through it !!!

Anon said:I'm so paranoid I'm going to repost one of your post by accident but the thing is is I never even repost anything at all but just because I know you don't want them to be I'm so scared that by accident I'm going to have something screenshotted and forget it's yours and like Ugh😂

Well, my name’s written on all my drawing so I doubt you’ll forget it’s my stuff lol to make sure you’re not reposting anything the author doesn’t want reposted you can always just ask before reposting it, tho~

Anon said:I was just scrolling through your OC stuff and I just. Love them so much. Thank you for the babies ❤

GOD THANK YOU ;O;

Anon said:Okay I've never seen your oc's before and Dave is the cutest green boy I love him

AAAAHHHHHH I’M GLAD!!!!!

Anon said:kamijirou getting together? :3 also if there were ever a scenario where jirou would confess first, what do you think she would be thinking?

I actually have half a thing planned for that :0 gimme a while to get around to drawing it!

Anon said:How do you feel imagine kiri’s parents???

Actually since I’m still hoping one day Hori will give us the official versions I try not to think too much about it! I don’t wanna grow attached just to have to give them up once I’ll have the canon versions haha

Anon said:hey quick innocent question ive been following for a long time and saw a lot of your art do you have a thing for feet

Are you asking because I draw a lot of people barefoot? Feet are just easier and faster to draw than shoes, anon

Anon said:I love how you answer asks all at once. It’s nice to see that you’re getting in bulk appreciation

THANKS I honestly just don’t want my blog to be more asks than art, so I let them pile up before answering - it does mean I make people wait a lot for answers tho orz sorry

Anon said:I LOVE YOUR ART

THANK YOU!!!!

Anon said:You've open a sea of possibilities with red pineapple kirishima. You're a legend :prayeremoji:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I wouldn’t call myself that but I’m glad you appreciate him too hahaha

Anon said:i cant help but notice nothings been added to your sero tag in 4 months

That might be because I rarely use single characters tags! Try looking under #bakusquad and #seromina :D

Anon said:Hahaaa hi this is probably really really awkward but I just wanted you to let you know that you're super awesome!! And the fact that your art is something that I can look forward to is absolutely amazing (no pressure tho)!!! So yea, thank you for being cool and creating beautiful art~~ :D ✧✧✧

SOB it’s not awkward at all!!!! thank you SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Would you mind adding some more Tokoyami art to your shop? More specifically the pieces where hes hanging out with Kiri, and the Tokoshoji piece :D Im desperate to bury my notebooks in stickers from your shop rn and the bird boy needs more love ❤

AHW I’m sorry anon, but those are definitely too small to be of any use on the shop ;-; if you’re okay with it I could add the last one I posted? I should seriously draw more of him..................

Anon said:That jacket that Kirishima has on...I NEED!

I drew it and that’s still a mood t b h

Anon said:I went so far back in your blog that it kicked me back to the beginning ;-; I was just getting to the D. Greyman stuff too

AW ;-; (..........it’s good tho, the further you go the least worth it my stuff is l m a o)

Anon said:Do you ever draw kiribaku or something else in paper or some kind of sketch book if you do i would love to see them❤(sorry if my english is bad)

I do have some doodles on paper posted on here somewhere? But tbh I rarely draw traditionally anymore unless it’s just random doodles :(

Anon said:Aahhh!!! I really love your kiribaku shit its so cute!!and you draw so goood too literally when i found this ship i instantly found you and you are so perfect in my eyes and your art!!!!! I looooooovvvvvvveeeeee yoooouuuuuu thank you for being here and showing us this stuff!!❤❤❤❤

HECK thank you!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:i adore your art so much and your bakushima comics make me smile a lot! :) you’re one of my favorite artists now dldksjshskdk

tHANK YOU OH MY G OD ;^;

Anon said:Consider this: fantasy Kirishima meeting normal bakugou, thinking that's his Katsuki 😂😂

.........................you literally got no clue how long I’ve been thinkin about drawing this............ he ck

Anon said:Your drawings give me life 😍❤️

sob thank you so so so much ;-;

[arieleboy]

One Shot: Markus x Male!Reader

(First story I do of Markus, more being BL, You should also know that I think Markus is Bisexual, so I'll use my beautiful headcannon to justify the attraction to a human man) (PS: I'm writing this while I'm drinking mate, so it'll be great)

September 28, 2040

POV Narrator

Things in Detroit had improved, the android revolution brought advantages to the community, but there were still things to fix.

On the streets were propaganda of acceptance towards the androids. And from time to time, on the screens, the speech of Markus was reproduced at the last United Nations summit. There were still people who hated the androids, but luckily they did not get older.

But let's talk about something else. In this week, Markus forced himself to take a break from so much paperwork and politics. Being a public figure, he had to go as unnoticed as possible to avoid causing a stir. He had heard about a coffee shop that catered to Androids and Humans, long before the revolution happened. He thought and said "Why not see what the place is like?" He took his coat and left for the address of the cafe.

On another side, not far from that cafe, a boy was taking pictures of the landscapes. I was trying to find something that would convey a message. But what? I was really nervous, without those photographs, I would not get the title of professional photographer. I kept going from here to there, maybe looking for a good point to take pictures or to relax a bit.

"Maybe something sweet would not hurt me, I need something to keep my head cold." She put her camera in her bag and went into the cafe. I really loved that place, it conveyed an aura of freedom and peace, which did not seem real.

POV Reader

I really was stressed, I did not want to miss this opportunity to have that title. Photography is my life, I can show reality in only one image, but it can also be manipulated ... I did not like that side of photography.

The coffee "Esthétique" was my favorite. Apart from accepting Androids before the whole revolution happened, I had a very ... Very "Tumblr" theme To put it one word. All colors, real estate, and even the menu had a relationship that made you feel satisfied. I sat down at the bar and, while waiting for them to take care of me, I took my notebook so I could write down what pictures I could take here. He had good friendship with the owner of this place. He is the father of my best friend, he gave me work when I became independent and he lets me use the coffee for when I need an assignment of emergency photos.

While I was writing, a girl took my order, a strawberry shake with extra cream and two Waffles, it's my favorite when I'm nervous. I was relaxing a lot, without pressure, no time limit ... I felt free. I stopped thinking about the photos, the photos that I must take at the press conference for next week, I stopped thinking about the world ... So much so, that I did not feel that someone sat next to me.

POV Markus

The coffee looked very good, I could spot several androids drinking or eating with other humans. I felt that the days and days of struggle were useful. I went to the bar and sat next to a boy who seemed immersed in his thoughts while drinking a smoothie. I could not help noticing the sketches he had in his notebook, surely he came to find inspiration and relax. Simon told me that I should start making friends that are not androids, that it would be good to not be so immersed in the work. I decided to follow his advice, but I did not know how to start a conversation. Although, it seems that I was not going to start it, since it seems that the boy wanted to talk too.

-Perdon for asking but ... Are you new in the city? It's that, it's weird to see someone I do not know over here. He seemed nervous when he spoke, it showed in his voice. - Actually, I live here for a long time, but I have never come to this place ... I know him thanks to some friends who told me about him. -Well, it's a pretty popular place now with this androids revolution, I never saw so many people celebrating in this place ... Forgive me for not presenting myself, I am (Y / N) Winchester, student of photography- I held out my hand to greet him, which I accepted. -Curious last name, I'm ... I'm Markus Manfred- His eyes widened in amazement, I did not expect that answer- But do not say I told you, I try not to be so notorious with all this politics and some that still do not accept to the androids. -Don't worry, my mouth is sealed ... And, I knew that you will give a press conference in this week. -Yes, it is part of a project so that they know what will happen to the rights for the androids ... For example that CyberLife serves as a hospital for Androids, paid work and its protection laws -God, this reminds me when it came out of the law of equal marriage and rights to trans ...- I heard him laugh with irony -humans are afraid of the unknown, some act with hatred, and others with curiosity ... For me it's pure curiosity. In my school they are all indoctrinated by those fascist ideologies and many more, they seem from the 19th century -They will know at some point that they are doing wrong ...Would you like to speak in another place? It would not be good to change the quiet atmosphere of the cafeteria. -I would love, I know a quiet place where we could talk about anything, just ... - (Y / N) took out his wallet and paid what he was taking, after that he grabbed his things and went to the door - Come on, it'll be late if we do not walk now.

POV Narrator.

The two were talking about trivial things until they reached a square. The autumn leaves covered everything, leaving it in a perfect panorama. Without hesitation, (Y / N) he took out the camera and started taking pictures. He had never seen anything like this in his life, never an orange so alive.

-You look pretty happy taking pictures -It's my vocation, I love doing this kind of thing. Having a test of how beautiful the world can be is something that encourages me to continue ... But unfortunately I do not find inspiration to take pictures or the day does not help me, like today. I blocked myself and went to the cafe - You have not thought about exposing the photos in a place so that the people look at them? Because they seem worthy to be in an explosion. -I would like to, but I do not know if I have the talent. Also, I upload them on a page that I have and it's enough for me ... Does it bother you if I ask you some questions? -For nothing, only if you give me the address of your page. -Clear! Let's see where do I start? ... I know! How did you come up with that speech? It is something that really fills with pride and makes you want to do something for society. -Only, I said what I felt at the time. I had nothing prepared and wanted to convey what we wanted. But it seems that it worked, more people are listening to us outside the country. -That is a great feat, I would like to do it when I was in school. I was never good at speaking to the public, I start to tremble and I do not articulate the words, it's horrible. -You'll learn to talk to so many people, it's difficult at first, but then you get used to it.

Markus went to a railing to look at the horizon, instead, the photographer boy was watching from behind. Before his eyes was the photo he was looking for, the sun to see Markus as something magistral, something unattainable ... Something that made the boy jump heart. Without Markus noticing, (Y / N) took the picture. On the screen of the camera was the most beautiful picture he ever created, he did not know whether to show it or not. He felt embarrassed because he had not asked for permission for the photo.

-Hey! Are you okay? - The dark haired voice pulled the boy out of his thoughts. -Yes, just ... I was adjusting something in the camera, nothing more. It will sound hasty, but could I make a transfer of photos with you? It's that, maybe we can help each other. You will expand your ideals, and I will be able to have the honor of taking pictures of the most important public figure in the world. -I'll see if I have time, papers have me busy and I have to prepare things for the press conference. -Oh, in that case, you can tell me when you're free ... I think it's time to go back to my apartment, I need to edit some pictures of today and in the way I can use for photography- he took out his notebook and began to write on a sheet and then give it to Markus. - So early do you have to go? - He saw the sheet and then see the boy. - There is my number and my page, whenever you want you can see it. See you soon take care.

And without saying more, he left while laughing softly. Markus, on the other hand, kept looking at where the boy was going, he was really curious about it.

October 31, 2040

The press conference happened. Everything was according to the plan, the doubts were resolved and he proposed his new adoption project for androids. But something was happening. A week ago he did not talk to (Y / N), it's not that he does not want to, it's that he did not answer or said he was busy and he was nervous when they talked on the phone. I was worried, but I would see him again today because of the transfer of photos, I was excited. Was he feeling something for his friend? In the photography studio, (Y / N) was trying not to die of nerves, since he started talking to Markus he felt different. He loved to tell him about his works of art, to talk about music and about the projects he had for the future. First he thought it was friendship, then admiration, and finally he realized that he was in love. It was a pity to admit it, not because he was an android, but because he knew that if he admitted it, he would lose a good friendship, one he would never have again. The study was prepared for a halloween theme by date. Markus had the idea of ​​making the transfer of photos and then go to take something somewhere, which made the boy more nervous.

I was finishing putting some decorations until the studio bell was heard. You quickly opened the door and saw Markus well dressed. It looked like the balance of a Vouge magazine in his suit and black shoes. And that was exactly what he liked (Y / N), the elegance and style of Markus.

-You came before ... Come, are you going to use that? In that case we will use another fund, perhaps a white one to contrast with the suit ... - We did not speak a week ago and the first thing you say is "you came before"? I was waiting for a "Hello Markus, how are you?" maybe... -Oh, sorry ... I had many things these days, cessions of photos, university tests and many orders ... I did not intend to walk away. -Don't worry, I understand you, I was with important paperwork ... Will we do those photos or not? I do not want it to be late for the bar. -If yes, whatever it is, follow me ...The place where the transfer of photos was made had as its background an impeccable white cloth and many lights gave a good illumination. Where the photographer would be found there were several things in boxes, including some accessories for the photos such as hats, masks and more interesting things. The (Y / N) laptop was on top of a desk next to a photo printer. Everything was impeccable, just as Markus imagined it.-Well, where do you want to start? - The younger placed the camera on the tripod and began to calibrate the lens-Have you ever seen the cessions of photos of Gucci and Louis Vuitton? -Only Gucci, I prefer that brand more than LV ... How do you know so much about that kind of thing? - I have a small title of fashion consultant, I know each brand and its advantages. My favorite is also Gucci, I'm trying to get a bag that I saw a long time ago ... Stop talking, be a good model and pose for me.The transfer of photos was spent laughing and some compliments from Markus to (Y / N) for the photos I showed him. Something that called attention to Markus, was that at all times, his friend tried not to make eye contact, had red cheeks and something told him that he was nervous just by his presence.-The photos will take time to print, we could go now to that place you said- He took his coat and before doing anything else, I grab the keys to the studio- I did not know you were drinking, in fact, I did not know that the Androids could take -We can, but we do not have the need to do it ... It will be fun to go and have fun for a while, we both have to clear our minds. -Of course, I'm ready. I hope it is not too far because I do not feel like walking.And indeed, it was not very long. The place where he took his friend was, so to speak, a bar with a restaurant mix. (Y / N) I was really excited and nervous, I did not know whether to put this as a date or just a way out of friends, but he was willing to say what I felt, whether it was corresponded or not. They went to sit at a table for two, next to a window and with the dance floor a few meters away. Markus asked for both something soft, that does not rise too fast to have fun.

- Do you know the rumors that run about me? - Markus broke the, not so uncomfortable, silence. - What rumors? I do not like those things, moreover, I hate them ... I still do not know how it is that the sensationalism continues to exist these days. -I do not like them either, but in this case it's good to know- Markus took from his pocket a sheet of a magazine of the moment.

The header said "Markus Manfred is dating a human?" And in all the pictures that were appreciated on the sheet were of him next to Markus in the different times that they left as friends. The face of (Y / N) turned red from one moment to the next, I really did not know what to say.

POV Reader

I was perplexed ... I really did not expect these things. I did not mind making myself look like Markus' partner, but I did not like it to be something to make yellow. I was between shame, grief, nerves and some hope. But I knew that Markus previously dated a female android ... I did not have many opportunities to say.

-This is really... -Rare? - Markus helped me finish -Strange... -At least they do not say another bad thing ...

They brought us the drinks, we took them, Markus decided to go to the dance floor and I went, but from one moment to the next, I was separated from the wall of admirers of him. I tried to pass, but I could not. I felt helpless, many asked him if he was alone, with friends or some date. He only said that he came with a friend, that made several girls try to take advantage. That's what poured my patience. I paid for my drink and went to my favorite place to sit on a bench. I hated being jealous, I feel toxic to be the ... But with someone I do not even date. Ten minutes passed until I felt someone's hand on my shoulder, it was Markus.

"You were ..." He heard something in his voice of confusion, or perhaps of sadness. -Yes, I forgot that tomorrow I have things to do, besides I hate the crowds- But I hate to lie to you. -You could tell me before going there- He sat next to me, he seemed worried. -No, it was my mistake in not saying it ... - Can I ask you a question? - I nodded - Why did you avoid me week poll? I understand you have a job, but I feel like you do not want to be my friend anymore -It's not that Markus, I ... I really feel something else ... Have you ever had the feeling of jealousy towards someone you do not even have the right to feel? Well, I really feel that- I saw several of my tears fall to the floor, I did not want Markus to worry -Markus, I like you ... I like you, that's why I did not want to see you in the week, I wanted to know if it was that or something else. .. Unfortunately it is love.

I did not hear an answer from him, which hurt me. It gave me an idea of ​​the answer.

-At least I took a weight off my back ... It was a pleasure to meet you and be for your friend Markus Manfred, tomorrow look for the photos I made ... Our friendship lasted what it had to last, see you tomorrow.

And I left.

Pov Markus

I was surprised, I was in Shock. I could not talk, I could not say something, I could not stop it.

November 1, 2040

I got up early in the morning to go to the (Y / N) apartment. I wanted to talk to him, I was worried about the meaning of my silence yesterday. Her farewell felt it as a sign that she did not want to see me anymore, but I could not afford that. Yes, I started to feel something, but I did not think that he did too. When he told me everything, I felt relief and joy, but it did not last long when he heard how he said goodbye.

I knocked on the door one, two, three and even four times. When I was going to play the fifth time, he opened me. He was untidy, still wearing pajamas, his hair was disheveled and his eyes were swollen and red, he cried all night. When he saw me, his face brightened for a moment and then turned off again.

-Now I bring the photos, wait in the room, yes? I will not be long

Before he left, I grabbed his arm

-I do not want the photos, I just came to see how you were and to talk about yesterday. Really sorry for not saying anything, I was completely blocked ...- I saw him in the eyes and I could see that he was crying again -You could have told me ... I do not know, that you were not looking for another person, that you are not prepared for this ... Anything, least of all keep quiet. In addition, it is surely just admiration, that always confuses people ...- He let go and went to a room and then come back with an envelope -The photos are there, yesterday I uploaded them to my page ... I ...

Before I could say anything else, I hugged him, I knew we both needed him. Luckily, he also hugged me, I felt like I was unloading all his sadness. I really did not know how to react, I wanted to protect him, to tell him that everything will be fine, that he should not be scared since I will be with him. Time passed, ten, twenty minutes ... I do not know, but I liked being like that with him.

-Markus ... Can we start again? ... I tell you that I like you and then you tell me what you think is right. -I think it's the best option... -In that case- He separated from me and saw me in the eyes -I like Markus ... I do not know how or when, but I feel I can not hide it anymore. I will understand if it is not accepted, but I feel better knowing that I said it - Under the look something ashamed.

By inertia I smiled to him later to accommodate him the hair ... I really felt something for him, and it was authentic.

"Do you know something?" I raised my head to look at him and sigh slightly "Tomorrow, you and I, a date in a better place, do you think? And this time there will be no one to take us away like yesterday ... -I like the idea...

[kakyoin-did-you-lay-this-egg]

please, please quench my unending thirst for the stands and provide me with some headcanons involving the duwang boys (and yukako, please) with a soft, affectionate romantic interest who is very fond of their stands - they're always holding their hands, and stealing quick little kisses when they think the user isn't paying attention, and always have nothing but nice things to say about them and their abilities ♥ thank you so much, i am dyi n g （ゝω・）

First of all, I love you. Secondly, I love this request. Im sorry this took so long, I was trying to cut back on everything and this is about as minimal as I could get so I apologize immensely 

Josuke

- When he first introduced Crazy Diamond to them, he was expecting things along the lines of ‘So cool!’ or ‘Oh wow!’, so seeing them fawn over ‘how adorable’ Crazy D is kinda shocks him

- He likes to bring Crazy D out whenever he thinks youre not paying him enough attention. He knows how much you love Crazy D and would use any given opportunity to kiss his soft lips

- Depending on if you also have a stand, sometimes a wild Crazy D will appear to give you or your stand smooches in class

- When youre walking home or just chilling, if Josuke is holding your hands, he will bring up his trusted spirit friend to hold the other. This is why you have 2 hands, so don’t be shy

- Crazy D is the stand most likely to steal smooches when his user isnt looking. When Josuke feels the soft touch of your lips through the phantom feeling of his stand he blushes

- Sometimes if Josuke is too shy to show you affection, this is then his handy dandy stand will come to the rescue!

- Please squeeze Crazy D’s cheeks, he does the blep thing & it’s enough to make anyones heart melt

Okuyasu

- He is hesitant at first, Since The Hand can like, ya know, erase you from existence and whatnot. But after youve told them both ‘yes it’s okay’ and ‘yes you won’t accidentaly disappear’ you can see Oku visibly relax, but The Hand is still a little scared he twiddles his fingers when hes nervous it’s so cute

- Okuyasu knows that The Hand looks a lil sad, so when he sees you holding his hand or giving him kisses, he feels double the love bc his stand is basically him, right?? And youre just showing both sides of him affection, even if one is a large humanoid robot thing that can destroy anything in a single swipe

- Oku really appreciates the compliments, seeing as how his dad & brother never really had anything nice to say. Maybe that’s why The Hand is always so sad??. You will see him blush furiously, while his stand starts fiddling with it’s hands (no pun intended)

- Okuyasu doesn’t mind you being affectionate, as long as you show him some love too! He will sometimes get jealous if youre giving more kisses and hugs to The Hand than him. It’s nothing cuddling can’t fix tho

- The Hand is pretty shy, so most of the time your affection is returned with the biggest blush youve ever seen, please be kind to him

- Oku likes to pretend he doesn’t notice you kissing The Hand when hes not looking, but you can see the corners of his mouth raise slightly after each small kiss

- Oku and The Hand both tend to get more excited when the love interest is around, not only are they cute, but theyre so generous with their affection, how can they stay away??

Koichi

- Depends on which acts youre admiring. The first 2, yes, he will blush and scramble to compliment you back. He sometimes will try to show off his powers by playing innocent pranks on Okuyasu. If it’s act 3, he will be a little hesitant to introduce the two of you. I mean, youve seen the things he says, would you really let him near your love interest? (I’m a firm believer that sentient stands can say what their users are really thinking)

- If youre meeting Act 1, he will be almost as excited as you are! He just got his stand and is still learning about it, so talking to his love interest about his cool ability will cause his to seem a little more flustered and speak in an almost rushed manner.

- Kissing Act 1? Congrats, you broke Koichi.

- If youre meeting Act 2, he’s a bit more relaxed, he would also tell you about Echoes first act, and how his stand has not only evolved in ability, but looks too.

- He wouldn’t mind you kissing Act 2, or even holding him. He just asks that if you do, remember that he can feel what his stand does and asks that you don’t squeeze him to hard

- If youre meeting act 3, Koichi is gonna warn you first before anything. Telling you that his stand has ‘a mind of it’s own’ and that he may say some ridiculous things. So when you finally do meet Act 3, and not only are you surprised to see that your compliments are returned,but with flirting as well. When Echoes starts to speak things that may seem risque is when Koichi will have to politely cut in and either send Echoes back or ask for a  subject change

- Kissing Echoes is a gamble. There are always things that you don’t expect to happen. One time you gave him a kiss & he pinched your ass. (Koichi wouldn’t summon Echoes after that for a few days) Sometimes Echoes will make a show of it to let Koichi know ‘I’m kissing them. What are you gonna do about it?’ and then Koichi gets jealous and sends Echoes back again. Echoes will sometimes show you the same affection you show him thrown in with an innuendo and Koichi swears up and down he has ‘no idea here Echoes learned that from’

Rohan

- He will at first wonder why you have admiration for his stand. Not that he doesnt like it, he just doesn’t understand it, but still will bring out Heavens Door just to see you smile. ‘So youll leave me alone while I draw’ he says

- He usually brings out Heavens Door whenever youre around but hes busy sketching, so his stand can keep you company.

- If you show affection to his stand, he will pretend to not notice or ‘scold’ you.  But deep down, we all know that he loves it

- He feels like if youre kissing and holding his stands hand, it means you want to do the same with him, right??

- He will sometimes feel overwhelmed, what with all the affection being shown to his stand, and the fact that he works himself to the bone to finish his manga, he may sometimes be brash & call Heavens door back, leaving you to sulk

- When complimenting his stand, he acts arrogant. Of course his stand is amazing, do  you know who he is? But he can’t help the small smile that comes to his face seeing how excitedly you talk about his stand

- He will get jealous of his stand every now and then, and he feels a little petty for it. Like, why is he jealous of a spirit? Him, Kishibe Rohan? Unacceptable.

Yukako

- She takes amazing care of her hair, so finally allowing her love interest to see what all her hair can do will kinda be her way of showing them how no one else can compare to her

- She doesn’t really mind you playing in her hair as long as it’s where she won’t be seen if you decide to do a crazy style

- She does this little blush when you compliment her stand, after this she tries to show you more cool things she can do, even going as far as to help you using it

- She loves the compliments, and uses them as means to flood you in compliments as well

- She will come to you some days, saying her arms are tired from brushing her luxurious locks and asks (demands) you brush them. Mainly, she wants you to run your fingers through her hair, she already did all the brushing

Jotaro (cause part 3 Jotaro is my fav)

- He at first is hesitant to show you Star. After everything he’s seen, could you blame him? But once he warms up to the initial idea, youll see him tugging his hat down more often

- He sometimes uses Star to help him with his research, so if you were to, lets say, abruptly grab his stands hand while it was scouting the ocean for star fish, you can hear Jotaros quick intake of breath from the sudden gesture

- Jotaro knows his stand is powerful, hes defeated countless people, but hearing his love interest compliment him is different. He mutters his usual catchphrase, pulls down his hat and even blushes at the tips of his ears. Just don’t torture him too much

- The few occurrences where he has Star out for non educational purposes, maybe Star is looking at some of the many sea animal photos, you can sneak in a few smooches before Jotaro asks you what exactly youre doing.

- Star sometimes will convey the emotions Jotaro wont, so expect lots of mixed signals. But always listen to Star, Star knows whats best even if Jotaro doesn’t always agree

[margarethelstone]

One Day I Will

Okay guys, so what you’re about to read is a part of my Big Tangled/HTTYD crossover, Once Mine. But, wait! If you’re not into crossovers, and only care for the Dragon World (and Hiccstrid) you can still enjoy this story. This particular chapter works perfectly well on its own, so you don’t have to worry about not getting something. All that is required is a basic knowledge of the events of ‘Heather’s Report’.

Of course, I would be the happiest person on Earth to know that it encouraged you to read Once Mine as well.

Enjoy!

fanfiction.net (ODIW) fanfiction.net (Once Mine)

  Arm-in-arm, side by side, they kept staring at the shape of a boat that slowly ebbed away from the sight, a boat on the deck of which their new friend was heading towards her long missed home. An oceanic breeze was enfolding them, while the last beams of the setting sun illuminated their tired, yet joyful, finally peaceful faces. All in all, the scenery was more than romantic.

And that was when she punched him again.

“Hey!” he cried out, sending her a mock-offended glare, and shook his head, seeing the perverse grin on her lips. He’d already managed to get used to it; more than once was he to feel her knuckles on his shoulder, though usually, it signified nothing but sympathy.

Truth be told, it was rather an unusual way of showing one’s affection – why, if everything about her was unusual, as well.

“Good Thor, why is it always violence with you?”

The blonde girl glanced at him dismissively, and only shrugged her shoulders, once again fixing her gaze on the horizon’s line. Neither she, nor her dark-haired companion said anything for quite some time.

“Disappointed, aren’t you?” the warrior broke the silence eventually, causing the most natural astonishment of the boy standing beside her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he answered sincerely.

“Oh, come on. You were sure you’d get that hug.”

“I… don’t… why…”

“I saw what you did there.” She nudged him much more gently this time. “And I saw your face when she turned towards Toothless. If that makes you feel any better, I also expected her to throw her arms around your neck rather than mine.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes, unable to hold back a smile.

“You think we’ll see her again?”

“Who knows. If we do, I bet it will be in the most unexpected circumstances.” Having summed up the matter like this, Astrid yawned lingeringly, simultaneously turning on her heel and stretching her arms above her head. “That day was way too long. What do you say we go back home, throw ourselves on our beds and sleep it all off?”

“Sounds like a plan.” The boy laughed quietly. “Although I still have a few trinkets waiting for me in the workshop; but of course, I’ll gladly walk you home and to the very door of it.”

She raised her brows, eyeing him sceptically.

“You don’t need to walk me home.”

“We’re heading in the same direction anyway.”

The warrior wanted to respond with a more cutting comment, eventually however, she only waved her hand and set off towards the village, letting Hiccup join her at his own pleasure. She winced when the cold sea gust reached her. It really was getting late – the sun had just ultimately hidden below the far ocean line – and with every passing second it was getting colder and darker on the island of Berk. Moreover, she truly was exhausted by the events of the last few days, not only – and not primarily – because of a physical struggle.

She was happy to think how well it all ended for them; but she was even happier to know that the entire upheaval could be now put behind them.

She peered at the boy walking next to her, and smiled seeing him nervously rubbing his neck, clearly desiring to raise some mysterious issue, yet not having the courage to do so. It was a gesture she hadn’t noticed him do earlier, and she couldn’t help wondering if it was only a one-time action, or was it a new habit that, for some reason, Hiccup developed exactly at this time.

Personally, she found it quite… adorable.

The Rider took notice of her intrigued glare, and confounded, he shifted uncomfortably, unable to understand the sudden interest in him.

“A-Astrid? What… What is it?” he asked, completely taken aback.

Good gods, hadn’t he already learnt how to control that stuttering?

“I was wondering what you are so focused on.”

“I… Ah, it’s nothing.” Pretending not to care, he waved his hand absently, even though he was well aware that Astrid wouldn’t ease up on him like that. In fact, he himself knew that there were thoughts he should voice – he simply didn’t feel like doing it at this particular moment. “I’m doing a review of the past few days, that’s all.”

“There certainly are things you should think over.”

Resigned, Hiccup sighed.

“Okay, I know what you’re trying to say. I acted like an idiot, believing in Heather’s stories in spite of all of the signs that something was wrong. I ignored all of your observations, I didn’t believe you when you told me about what you’d seen during that night, and -”

“Hiccup, stop.”

Even though the command obviously referred to the torrent of words that came out of the young Viking’s mouth, Hiccup halted in the most literal sense; having stopped like this, he glared at the girl that stood by his side, with a question reflecting in his bright, green eyes. Still, whatever it was that was happening inside of his head, Astrid gave him no time to pronounce it out loud.

“That’s not what I meant. All I’m saying is that a lot has happened recently, and that we all have issues we must reconsider. Although… it’s good you’re aware of your own mistakes.”

A sparkle that twinkled in her eyes while she was voicing the last sentence positively proved that she wasn’t going to let go of the matter completely. Hiccup snorted.

“You couldn’t just, I don’t know, comfort me?”

“I could. And I will, one day. When you earn it.”

“Amazing. So you agree I behaved like a moron?”

“You leave me no choice here.”

“Fantastic.” The boy looked away, not entirely sure how he should treat his best friend’s answer. On one hand, Astrid sharply cut off his remorseful speech, laughing up his explanations and general agitation – on the other, she openly admitted that she found his behaviour at least invalid, stupid even.

And even though it was no revelation to him, it didn’t make him feel a little bit better.

“You’re still angry with me, aren’t you?” he muttered, not even realising how accurately the tone of his voice conveyed the qualms that were still torturing him. “What am I asking, you must be. Exposing the island is one thing, but you yourself… No, please Astrid, let me finish this. It’s not even the fact I let them trick me, but even knowing what was going on, I insisted to stick to what I thought was true. When you came to tell me about Heather meeting the Outcasts… Gods, you don’t know how hard it is to talk about it.” He stroke his palm against his face, full of despise for his own being. “I don’t know what happened to me. After everything we’d been through, I should’ve trusted you, not her. And it’s all clear and obvious now, and that’s what you had every right to expect.”

His hand found its way to his neck again, and he still couldn’t force himself to look her straight in the eye. Astrid kept observing him silently, fully focused on that slightly incoherent, not entirely understandable dilatation.

Hiccup sighed again.

“That night I said things I never should have said. I had no right to assume that you were mistaken, and I surely shouldn’t have reject your warnings that easily. It won’t happen again. I just wanted to say… I’m sorry, Astrid.”

Not until he poured out the last word, did Hiccup dare to look up at the girl. Her facial expression showed nothing but concentration – her brows were furrowed, but revealed no ire, her mouth was closed, but it was not tightened. She was staring at him half-expectantly, without that spiteful, teasing grin – with no grin at all.

That was probably the worst part of it.

‘Say something. For the love of Thor, Astrid, please say something,’ the brunette Dragon Rider kept repeating in his thoughts. Till that moment he’d been assuming that Astrid can’t be too mad at him – until he himself voiced all of his guilts out loud.

She had every reason to be mad at him.

“You know, that last line would be enough.”

Roused from his own meditation, he focused his sight on her. She still looked absolutely serious, however, something in her glare told him she didn’t at all feel like being cross with him.

He swallowed nervously.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Though, as I was saying, it’s good you see what went wrong.”

“And you’re not upset?”

Astrid shrugged.

“Now, when it’s all over anyway? I think I’m too tired to argue with you at the moment.”

“That’s… understanding of you.”

“Which doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you.”

“Oh.”

“Or more like, I forgive, not forget. You can bet your leg I’ll bring it up at the suitable moment.”

“I don’t doubt that.” The boy allowed himself a shy smile. “All I need now is your ‘I told you so’.”

“Well, if you admit that I’ve earned it yourself, I don’t think there’s a point in me actually saying it.” Astrid smiled more widely, no longer able to hide the amusement that the sight of her intimidated, confused friend had caused.

As far as she could recall, Hiccup had been “different”. He’d been that quiet, private, isolated kid, in whose eyes playing with his peers (whose games, she had to admit, were far from refined) was much less entertaining that the almost legendary troll hunting and his own sketches.  He’d also been, or at least he’d seemed to be gauche, as though he couldn’t adjust to the world in which he’d come to live. He had always been smart, she had no doubts about that – but there was something in his behaviour that had made him look as if he’d been unable (or maybe, unwilling?) to use his outstanding intelligence to improve his existence on the isle of Berk.

And he’d constantly been baffled.

Each and every time she had happened to appear in the smithy, she was met by his perplexed stare; no matter what he’d been doing earlier, having noticed her he always came back to work with a doubled investment, as if he was trying to conceal the fact that he was aware of her presence in the first place, letting Gobber take her order instead.

It had always amused her, and she’d never thought it could have been anything improper. She knew she was pretty, and she knew what an impression her personality made on her peers. She neither took pride in it, nor let it vex her – she didn’t need Snotlout courting her to realise her worth, and she certainly could do without it. Yet, she couldn’t deny that she liked to compel awe.

Still, Snotlout’s importunity or Fishlegs’ amazed staring were one thing; Hiccup, as usual, was a very different matter. She couldn’t have said whether she’d liked him or not – they had hardly ever spoke, and even if they had, the boy had usually got lost in his own stammering, making the whole conversation an absolute failure anyway. Astrid had shrugged her shoulders then, and set off to her own business, totally and perfectly indifferent to the miserable boy she had been leaving behind her.

Hiccup had not disturbed her. That’s all that she could have said.

And then everything had changed. The Training, Toothless, the battle at the Dragon’s nest – the events from a year before not only had turned the life of Berk upside down, but they had directly influenced the boy without whom they wouldn’t have taken place. Hiccup had changed. He had grown in strength and reason, earning the sense that he was a worthy young man. He’d finally gained the confidence that his opinions had mattered – and suddenly, he’d stopped being afraid of sharing them.

The fair-haired warrior had finally found a companion, with whom she could simply talk, debate, dispute. Someone with whom she was able to cooperate.

However, as she was gazing at him now, she realised she was glad that the Viking hadn’t got rid of his shyness completely. Honestly speaking, it was a feature she pretty much liked about him.

She shook her head.

“Really, Hiccup. It’s fine.”

She nodded towards the village, wanting to end the discussion that in her own eyes seemed entirely unnecessary. Hiccup had understood his own silliness – and he had apologised for it. She needed nothing more.

The boy divined her thoughts, and with no further dallying, he set off in the pointed direction, close by the golden-haired girl’s side.

Toothless was following them close behind, reminding the Riders of his presence with occasional jogs, plainly eager for a flight. Still, his taunting remained unanswered – however tired the two friends were, they really didn’t feel like parting their ways just yet, even if they didn’t fully realised it themselves. They simply walked in silence together, focused on their own musing, enjoying the company of one another. At that time, it was all they wished for.

Despite all this, Hiccup couldn’t help but shoot furtive, uncertain glances in the direction of his dear friend, incapable of chasing away the thoughts that were invading his mind. Even assuming that the misunderstandings between them were clarified, the young leader still had a lot to think about.

And Gods, it wasn’t easy.

Glancing at the warrior that was walking beside him, he couldn’t not think of the danger in which she had been just a few hours earlier. Of course, he hadn’t doubted that Astrid would perform perfectly, eventually finding her way out of the trouble, all while staying safe and sound – she always had. Had he not had that confidence, he would never have agreed to carry out that insanely risky operation.

On the other hand, it was a plan prepared by the warrior herself, and he knew better than anyone that when Astrid set her mind on something, it was hard to talk her out of it. If there was one person on Berk that was more stubborn than he was, it was Astrid Hofferson.

“You’re sure about this?”

“No! But this is our only chance!”

That was all her.

They were marching closely by, so that their hands brushed repetitively. Astrid seemed not to notice, concentrating her sight on the path before her or sporadically peering at Toothless, who still hadn’t ceased to demand her attention. Her companion couldn’t force such an indifference on him, and tensely setting his teeth, he was once again thanking the deities that the girl was too busy to actually look at him.

He inhaled deeply, somewhat disappointed, and making sure Astrid’s attention was fully focused on the Night Fury that was pacing beside her, he fixed his gaze on his friend’s profile.

His friend. Exactly.

That was how he would describe her to anyone who’d ask him about the relationship that linked them, and what is more, it was also how he called her in his own meditations. They were friends, there was no doubt about that – Hiccup dared to think that their friendship was intimate and strong, and he was far from underestimating it. Astrid was more than just his advisor, his right-hand girl, his second in command. It was her he came to when finding a solution to his problems seemed impossible, it was her he asked for help when his own wit let him down. It was her with whom he first shared all of his plans.

Astrid supported him when everything appeared to be falling into pieces, and she never seemed to doubt in him, at the same time remaining perfectly ready to whack his head with a shield, when she  only realised that his ideas were getting out of the reason’s hold.

In other words, she trusted him to the point at which he had to trust her.

The Viking swore inwardly, recalling how much he’d abused that trust during the last few days.

‘What about us, Astrid?’ he asked himself, unable to take his eyes off her. ‘What is between us?’

He had put the question so many times already, and he still couldn’t find an answer that would satisfy him. If he’d been to explain the matter a dozen or so months earlier, he wouldn’t have had the slightest troubles doing so: shortly and truthfully, he would’ve responded that he was entirely infatuated, as strongly as only a fifteen years old boy can be – all while she paid him no mind whatsoever. Analysing his previous feelings, Hiccup had to agree that they were rather shallow and silly – but at least they weren’t as tangled up as the ones that were whirling inside of him presently.

However ridiculous it might seem, he really couldn’t define his attitude towards her. The old crush had long been gone, extruded by a healthy, firm, friendly relationship… and yet, Hiccup would have lied if he’d said that friendship was all he desired. It was like building a foundation for the further rapprochement, without which their acquaintance would have been – at most – nothing but a relation between a pair of naively besotted teenagers, and thus only a mere shadow of what it could become with the minimal involvement on their side.

He wanted to treat it seriously, and was convinced that rushing things would bring them no good – then again, the thought of Astrid concluding that she didn’t want anything more herself, terrified him. He reminded himself over and over again that he was overreacting, that he was dwelling on the subject too intensively – but it was of no use.

Maybe he was only sixteen years old. Maybe, in the eyes of the older generation he and Astrid were just a couple of kids, quite responsible, but surely far from maturity. This, however, did not mean that their emotions were any less important, nor that they deserved to be given less attention.

The dark-haired Rider had stopped looking at his companion long ago, instead boring into the ground below him. His metal prosthetic wasn’t clattering against the wooden panels of the dock’s platforms anymore, as they had left those in the distance behind them; the sky was darkening rapidly, and he remained silent, deaf and blind to the surrounding that changed around him.

He kicked a stone that happened to lie in his way.

“Hiccup?” Astrid roused him from that odd wistfulness. The boy met her glare, and immediately spotted the anxiety that was reflecting in her way too blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he denied a little too quickly. “Everything is fine.”

She raised her brows, not believing a single word of his.

“Hiccup.”

“What?”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I wasn’t trying to lie.”

“Then tell me what this is all about.”

“What for?”

“Because I’m starting to worry.”

Once again was he to halt in his tracks, this time on his own account; but that surprised, he simply had to stop.

“What do you mean: worry? I’m fine.”

“First you stare at me for minutes, and then you can’t even look me in the eye properly. Don’t pull that face at me, just because I’m not looking, doesn’t mean I can’t see.”

“But -”

“Look, as for me, you’re way overthinking it. As always.” In the most natural manner she put a hand on his arm and squeezed it lightly. “I had to give you an earful, but that’s enough. It doesn’t matter if we meet Heather again or not, this particular episode is now behind us. Draw conclusions, but don’t stew.”

Hiccup smiled weakly.

“You almost sound as if you wanted to comfort me,” he mumbled. “But it’s not about Heather.”

“Then what is it about?”

“Nothing important.”

“You still can’t lie.”

He sighed ostentatiously.

“I’d just rather not answer that.”

‘But one day I will,’ he finished in his thoughts. One day. When he would finally deal with the doubts that were plaguing him, when he would sort out his own hopes and longing, finally, when he would muster the courage needed for the task – then he would answer her. All he could do was to pray to Odin that he wouldn’t miss his chance.

Astrid didn’t say a word, only nodding to show that she accepts his explanation. Then, she glanced at the house before which they had halted – her own house. Hiccup followed gaze; until that moment he hadn’t been aware that they had already reached the destination of their short journey. Something in his chest stung him unpleasantly when it occurred to him that in a very short while he would have to say his goodbye.

Hardly had he managed to realise that, he felt a punch on his shoulder, one that was way too strong for his liking.

“What on… Astrid!”

“That’s for not being honest with me,” the warrior answered his cry without the slightest falter. “And for making me upset during the last days. I forgive, not forget.”

And then, not giving him another second to think it through, she moved closer to him, and brushed her lips against his cheek.

“And that’s for everything else.”

And just like that, as if was the most obvious act in the world, she turned on her heel, and briskly ran upon the stairs that lead to her hut. Having opened the door, she hesitated, peered at the couple that was watching her from below; with a strangely uncertain grin she threw them a short ‘goodnight’ - and with that, she was gone.

Hiccup kept staring at the wooden frame for a long while, ignoring Toothless’ nudging, which was becoming more and more regular, while the dragon clearly was annoyed with the lack of attention of his human friend. At last, the boy looked down at him, shook his head on both Night Fury’s impatience and his own distraction, and jumped onto the saddle almost immediately after.

If he’d had problems figuring out the meaning of his own feelings earlier, he was not even trying to do it now; he well knew that it wouldn’t change a thing. At this point he could only count that his relationship with the blonde girl would clarify in some natural way, and that it would happen sometime soon.

The more rational part of his being was telling him it would be exactly the opposite.

[anodyne-sunflower]

The Yearbook (Part 2)-High School series

A/N: It’s here! Part 2, turtle doves. I love writing this stupid fic, all because I had a whack ass dream about Balem being a dick to Newt in school…oy. Anyway, I know Marius has an English accent lol but for drama sake, he’s got a French one in this. Use your imagination. Also, if you requested to be a teacher in this, I will slowly (try) to introduce you. That being said, I’m not basing any of their actions off y’alls personality. That’s too much work, and I’m lazy…cut me a break. So, it’s name only haha. Enjoy!

MOOD MUSIC: Feel it still by Portugal. The Man

***

You threw your backpack onto the table, pulling out a chair and taking a seat as you looked around the almost empty library. No other students plagued the aisles of books, or extended their stay on the empty computer desks. It was how you enjoyed the library, quiet and devoid of all other life. Save for your best friend, who was busy burying his nose into another wildlife book to pay much attention to your topic of conversation.

“Newt!”

The freckled boy glanced up, blinking at you stupidly before smiling. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Never mind…” You sighed into your jacket sleeve, restlessly leaning back and forth in your chair as you watched the clock tick by. School wasn’t entirely awful, but in the realm of activities, you’d much rather be sleeping at this ungodly hour. “I am not looking forward to drama class. Why is that even important? I have no use for acting classes…”

“Perhaps you should’ve taken biology.” Newt mumbled nonchalantly, flipping the page and highlighting parts he found particularly interesting.

“I am, but…wait,” You fell forward into the table, hands slamming into the surface and scaring the other student from his reverie of animals. “Did you not sign up for drama class? First period? With Ms. Derboven…?”

Newt stared pathetically at you, a sudden dark cloud emerging over his messy head of hair. You knew that look all too well, you had been victim to it many times in your friendship. That guilty smile, that nervous laugh…it was just another blow to your already annoyed mood.

“Newton Artemis Fido Scamander,” you threatened between gritted teeth, leaning closer to your friend. Your proximity caused a flush of red to sweep along his cheeks, and he lifted his book to cover the obvious sign of nervousness. “So help me god if you didn’t-“

“I swear it was not intentional…” he attempted to soothe your anger, still keeping that sheepish grin on his features. He assumed it would make it all go away, as it usually did. But, you only glared deeply at him, getting closer until your noses were touching and he had no choice but to sit silent and listen. Not that it was difficult for him, your perfume and entrancing eyes were enough to gain his focus.

“Newt, I don’t want to take that class alone! They say the teacher is eccentric and expects you to perform for her the very first day! I don’t know how to act! I’m not even sure I know how to create art…I’m gonna die…that’s it…my social life is now null and void and I will forever be known as the girl who fucked up her monologue.”

“That’s a tad dramatic, don’t you think?” Newt cleared his throat, taking his chance to move away from you while you wallowed in your self pity.

“What’s dramatic is leaving your best friend to endure a full hour and a half of drama class.” Perhaps you were being a bit of a whiner, but facing courses without anyone you knew was always a rough situation. One you didn’t want to deal with senior year.

“I don’t believe dramatic fits that sentence-“

“There you are, Newt!”

The two of you looked up, your eyes falling upon a young man running over to you both. He was dressed like a complete hipster, one you’d find on some Instagram post about charcoal ice cream or what not. His fedora tilted sloppily to the side, giving him a very relaxed look that was only overshadowed by his striking red hair. He certainly knew how to gain attention.

“Oh, hello…” Newt dropped his book to the table, watching as this boy took a seat next to him and began going on about money and drawings. None of it made sense to you, and you sat there completely befuddled by his sudden appearance.

“So, I kind of need the money now…any chance you can pay?” The red head held his hand out, a huge smile on his face when Newt fished through his pockets and handed him some crumpled up bills.

“That should be sufficient.”

“Thank you, I need new supplies…”

“Um,” You interjected, nudging Newt on the arm to introduce you to this new kid. He looked faintly familiar, but it was hard to forget someone with his looks and hair. So you imagined he didn’t make a huge impression the first time, if you ever met him before that is. “Newt?”

Newt, glad for the distraction from your anger, held his hand out towards the red head and quickly blurted out an introduction. As if he didn’t really see the point in doing so. “That’s Jack. He offered to do some drawings for my book I’m writing.”

It dawned on you then, the red hair, the somewhat messy tie. You had seen him before, he was a frequent flyer in the principal’s office, although his offenses were of a lesser degree than the resident bad boy, Eddie. “You’re the one who makes those really amazing murals, right? On the gymnasium, and men’s bathroom!”

Jack hadn’t been paying much attention to you or Newt, he was busy counting the money and figuring out what to purchase with it. But, the moment your melodic voice hit his ears, he nearly froze in his actions. With a surprised expression he glanced up, green eyes widening when he saw you. He could count on one hand the number of girls he found attractive at this school, because the fact was, you were the only one he found charming. Every other girl was so caught up in their looks or social lives it grated on his nerves. There was something refreshing about you though, a trait he wasn’t yet knowledgeable about but, he felt it.

You pursed your lips, eyeing him strangely while he just stared. The silence built to a level that even gained Newt’s attention, and with a curious glance he turned to his friend.

“Jack-“

Before he could get another word out, Jack leaned forward, a glint of wonder in his eyes as he looked you over. “Can I draw you?”

It was an odd request, one you didn’t expect to receive today. To say you were flattered though, would be an understatement. A soft blush formed on your features, a smile curling along your lips as you giggled nervously. “I, uh-“

Newt watched the exchange, somewhat annoyed, but otherwise keeping his mouth shut. He didn’t care for the way Jack looked at you, it was reminiscent to the way you eyed Stephen earlier. A hint of arousal, and longing that only made the animal lover jealous. Try as he might, Newt wasn’t very adept at burying his feelings. “Stop asking everyone to let you draw them.”

“How else am I supposed to practice?”

“Perhaps you should do your art assignments.”

“What a waste of time. Art isn’t something you can schedule or direct…” The entire time he spoke, his eyes fixated on you and only you. It was as if he was already sketching you into his mind, taking every lovely detail and canvassing it into his memories. “It has to be free, spontaneous…”

There was something in the way he spoke that made your heart flutter, like the very passion he conveyed could be felt in his words. It was mesmerizing, and you nearly toppled into his spell if not for Newt interrupting him.

“Jack,” It was when he reached out to touch you that Newt had enough, and with a sigh he held his book up, blocking the artist’s wandering hand. “Sorry, but shouldn’t you finish your painting in the gym?”

The switch went off in Jack’s head, and he rose quickly from his chair, giving a quick farewell before taking off in a rush towards the doors. You smiled at him, a thoughtful look on your face when you considered your observation carefully.

“You know,” you paused, eyes following the retreating back of the talented student. “If it wasn’t for the red hair, I’d say he could be your twin, Newt.”

Newt glanced up from his book, blinking at you skeptically before looking towards Jack. He raised his eyebrow for a second, before pursing his lips and scoffing at the notion. “Absolutely not.”

Before you could think of a single snappy remark, the bell rang, indicating the next five minutes should be spent getting to class. An audible groan flew from your lips, the dread of drama class becoming far too real now. You wanted to drag Newt along with you, but taking him from his beloved science classes was too cruel to entertain.

“Would you like me to accompany you there?”

“No, don’t worry. I’ll survive.”

Newt felt awful about the change in classes, but his counselor was adamant he take courses geared towards his interests. It would help in college, and he had to admit it was a smarter plan than wasting his time watching the drama kids reenact their favorite Shakespeare play.

“If you say so, Y/N…”

You hummed back to him, throwing your bag over your shoulder and sending a wave of goodbye as you walked out the library and into your horrible hour and a half fate. The walk to first period was uneventful, save for the nasty look some girl gave you. You weren’t aware of her dispute with you, but the faint whisper of ‘Balem’ was heard as you passed by. If you were to venture a guess, she was not overly fond of the way you interacted with him this morning. Every girl here was swooning over the rich man, constantly leaving letters in his locker or on his windshield. It was a dim-witted attempt to get his attention, but he rarely ever read the love notes. On one occasion you even saw him use his wipers to release the perfume scented letters from his precious car. Yet, in spite of his cruelty, they still flocked to him like moths to a flame.

“Ow!” The rough material of someone’s jacket pushed into your forehead, making you flinch back and grumble about small hallways. Why Balem’s mother couldn’t pull her purse strings for a bigger building was beyond you. “Watch it!”

“Easy there, darlin’.” An amused chuckle was all you needed to realize who it was, and you reluctantly moved your hand away. View now obscured by the devilish grin of Eddie Kreezer. “Where you off to in a hurry?” He was already pulling a cigarette from his jacket pocket, lighter hidden in his cowboy hat as the staff walked by. You envied his devil may care attitude, but you didn’t need to be caught with him today.

“To class, you idiot. Where you should be going.”

“Tsk, didn’t your momma ever teach you to be nice?” He teased, lighting his smoke and blowing some of it into your face.

“You’re one to talk!”

Eddie was always amused at your temper, but that was due to him being one of the few people who could bring out that spark of anger. It was amusing and quite frankly, hot to him. “Damn, sweetheart. What? Daddy didn’t love you enough as a kid? Is that where all this misdirected rage comes from?” He laughed heartily, pushing one finger into your forehead to keep you away as you launched your fists at him. It was a weak attempt to defend yourself, and it only made the cowboy laugh harder until you gave up. “I’ll be your daddy if you want.” He had the gall to wink, to flirt amidst all this teasing like you were just going to cave under his southern wiles. It fueled that fire of fury inside you, and admittedly was just a bit charming…which only made you angrier.

“You-“

“Ah, ah, ah!” Eddie easily trapped you into the lockers, smirking down at your expression of discontent. “Daddy don’t like the attitude, darlin’.”

The last straw, that was it, and with all your strength you kneed Eddie in the stomach, taking his momentary lapse of judgement as a sign to run away. The last bell had rung, and with the halls now clearing you took the chance to turn back to him, hands balled into fists as you yelled, “And for the record you’re too young to be a daddy!”

The cowboy glanced up, a huge smirk now forming on his lips as he laughed. You figured he’d finally lost it, the recreational use of drugs eventually killing off his last brain cells. That was until you heard your name, a huge blush going head to toe when you realized who was behind you. With a stiff posture, you turned, growing redder when Stephen came into view. He looked confused, green eyes darting from you to Eddie with a hint of worry.

“Are you alright?”

“I-“ you couldn’t form a proper sentence, and in your embarrassment the only helpful thought that came was to run off into the halls. So with a quick mumble of farewell, you brushed passed the athlete and somehow found your way to the theatre. Life could be dramatically unfair sometimes, and having to say such a stupid thing in front of your crush was probably on the top ten list of don’ts. Lamenting over your actions did no good though, and with a troubled scoff you slowly opened the drama room doors. All eyes fell on you then, the piercing ones of your teacher among them. It sent chills up your spine, and even though they all saw you, you still attempted to sneak across the stools lined up to the stage.

“How good of you to join us.”

You fell into the stool, trying to ignore Ms. Derboven’s irritated glare. Thankfully, another student began to sing softly on stage, taking her attention elsewhere. She was positively thrilled when the student sang, like the world was suddenly brighter for it. In your mind, it was a simple distraction, but the pining sighs of women made you finally look towards the center of the auditorium. A tall, handsome student was on stage, crooning out his rendition of a Les Miserables song. Something about empty chairs and tables, not that you knew any of it, musicals weren’t exactly your hobby. But, you welcomed the talent he displayed. If only to have your teacher preoccupy herself with his enchanting voice.

“Isn’t he charming?”

You sank back into the air, trying not to fall from your stool as this girl leaned far too close to you. She had pretty green eyes, her blonde hair set into intricate curls that seemed to have taken hours to do. You didn’t recognize her from anywhere, and with a French accent you wondered if she had any relation to the new boy singing up there.

“Um-”

“Oh, no need to answer. I already know you agree.”

She giggled, hand on her cheek as she sighed happily while eyeing the handsome student on the stage. Drama wasn’t your forte, and if it wasn’t for the insane obligation to take an elective you’d be far from here. But, you humored her affections, eyes darting towards the stage and watching as the other French student recited his lines. He was rather talented at it, even more when he broke into song again. Even if that made it feel awkward to be in here. All the girls, and possibly even the teacher seemed entranced by his voice now, like he suddenly became the first male siren in history.

In your musings, you hadn’t realized he stopped, all the girls clapping and cheering their hearts out to him. Some of the boys reluctantly did so, more than one of them grumbling about how unfair it was to have so many good looking guys at this school. You had to agree there, lately it seemed like an abundance of them came crawling from out of the woodwork. With a defeated breath, you started clapping along as well, looking towards the clock on the wall and praying it would move faster. At least this new kid took up a good chunk of time for you.

“Come on…” you pleaded silently with the clock, as if that would somehow aid your impatience.

“Cosette, would you like a turn?”

You watched as the girl you were speaking to got up, clearly the one known as Cosette. She clapped happily, getting off the stool and heading to the stage to begin her own monologue. You envied her bravery, but the puppy love look on her face made you roll your eyes. She had it bad for that other guy, and judging by his smile he seemed somewhat interested in her in return.

“May I sit here?”

His French accent was enamoring, but you weren’t about to fall head over heels just because he seemed exotic.

“Sure.”

“Thank you.” He smiled politely, eyes constantly moving to look at you. “I’m Marius Pontmercy, and you are?”

At his greeting, you turned to him, offering a smile as you held your hand out to shake his. Only he seemed more intent on being a true gentleman. With a delicate touch he took your hand, twisting it around and laying a sweet kiss to the back of it. The French truly did inspire romance…

“I’m…um,” The words would not come out, and unfortunately making a fool of yourself seemed to be a reoccurring theme this school year.

“Won’t you tell me?” Marius smiled widely, chuckling when you looked away from him. You seemed on edge, and he had no intention to make it worse for you. “It’s alright if you wish-“

“Y/N.” You spat it out harshly, your nerves making you agitated enough to seem rude. Lucky for you, Marius took no offense to your curt tone.

“It’s a beautiful name…” He said quietly, eyes transfixed on you from the start.

There was a notable tension in the air, one that confused you greatly. But, the longer he gazed into your eyes the more you felt your chest cave to the attractive French student. In just a few short hours, you found life at eighteen proving difficult already. How on earth could you navigate this school year with all these men being distractions? Stephen was always your source of affection, and even though you still held strong feelings for him…you found yourself hooked on these new characters. Maybe Newt was right, sexual maturity had officially peaked and you hated every minute of it.

***

A/N: Alright, tell me!! Who do you ship Reader with so far?! Hope you liked it! There’s nothing greater than writing a trashy cliche high school fic. Takes me back, my loves…takes me back. Feedback appreciated! ❤️

[missbrightsky]

Velaris National Park

Fics Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2

The next day dawned clear and crisp. Birdsong twirled through the air, weaving through the leaves that blew in the breeze.

I stretched, groaning softly from the night on the sleeping pad. My bag kept me warm enough throughout the night, but the thin pad did little to cushion against the dirt.

Elain was sprawled, taking up half the tent forcing Nesta and me to the sides. Her mouth was slightly ajar, small, whistling snores escaping her. Nesta was already awake and scrolling through her phone.

I groped above my head for mine, the screen flashing just past 7:30. Only a few notifications from my uni friends congratulating me on graduation and a good morning Snapchat from Alis. After firing off a few responses, I pulled my bag towards me to sort out clothes for the day.

I settled on hiking shorts, an old painting shirt, and my worn Prythian U sweatshirt to keep out the morning chill.

“Want me to get breakfast started?” I asked Nesta. She only grunted a confirmation; it was useless to try to get a word out of her before coffee.

I unzipped the tent, the slight amount of dew that had collected on it slid down in a few drops. The prejudiced neighbors that refused to socialize with the rest of us seemed determined to finish their breakfast in record time.

“Good morning!” Ray greeted, raising his cup to me. “Kevin is still asleep but I’m sure I’ll be able to rack his ass out of bed soon.”

I chuckled, “I’m sure you will. I’m going to grab our breakfast stuff, mind if I join you?”

“Of course! I’ve got a grill warmed up already.”

Smiling, I turned to our car, which thankfully survived any curious animals, and grabbed our cooler.

Ray gestured for me to use the pan that was already hot and in no time, the smell of frying bacon filled the air. I got a pot started to boil water for coffee.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, his eyes twinkled over the edge of his mug as if he knew that the ground was more unforgiving than it looked.

I groaned and twisted my torso, popping my spine, “I’d say my back is forever ruined but years of hunching over easels and desks already did that.”

“Very true, I remember my days of late nights spent in the library and not being able to stand up straight the next day.”

I grinned at Ray, “Now that is one thing that all majors can agree on.”

The water was finally boiling so I poured some in a mug and dropping in a bag of coffee to start steeping. I walked over and tapped on the tent frame, “Nesta, Elain, coffee, and bacon is ready.”

Elain burst of the tent, stumbling and blinking in the early morning light. She was still in her PJs but had managed to add a hoodie and her hair up in a messy bun.

“Bacon?” she mumbled. I pointed over to the picnic benches where Ray was barely holding in a laugh at her disarrayed sister. Nesta followed more gracefully, already dressed for the day and her hair in a tight ponytail.

“I have a cup of coffee ready for you on the table,” I added to her. Her only response was to beeline to the cup and wrap her hands around it, inhaling the fragrant fumes.

I followed and poured more hot water into mugs, setting tea bags in for Elain and me. The rest of the water got a healthy dumping of oats, brown sugar and dried berries to complete our hot breakfast.

We made small talk with Ray as we all woke up and Kevin eventually joined us. He gave Ray a peck on the lips in greeting and plopped down beside him to start inhaling his own coffee and food.

“What’s on the agenda today girls?” Kevin asked once all of us were thoroughly alert. The cold-shouldered neighbors had already left and packed up their car. It looked like we wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore.

Elain spoke up first, “We’re going to hike to see the Starfalls! Mor from the front office already pointed out the best field.”

“I’ll be taking my sketchbook and watercolor pencils with me to draw them,” I chimed in before Kevin and Elain could go off on a botany tangent.

“I saw a nice stream with some fallen logs on the banks on our hike yesterday. I think I’m going to head there and do some writing,” Nesta finished off.

“And for you guys?” I asked.

“I’d like to join Elain if that’s okay?” Kevin said, looking to her for permission. Those two would keep each other busy for hours with flower and plant discussion.

Elain currently had a mouthful of bacon but nodded vigorously, excited to be able to share her passion with another enthusiast.

Ray contemplated the question, “I think I’m going to go to the head office and chat with Mor about designing a new dam for one of the streams. I think I may be able to convince her to make a natural swimming hole.”

Ever the engineer it seemed, we all thought with shared smiles.

Breakfast was over too soon and cleaned up quickly after. We all parted ways to start our adventures in the park. We agreed to meet for dinner later to share our days.

I let Elain and Kevin lead the way to the field, the two going back and forth over the merits of some root plant. I preferred to catalog the surrounding forest, wondering how I could pattern the shadow of the leaves on the carpeted floor.

And maybe look for a certain ranger hidden in the foliage.

I shook my head to clear it, trying to refocus on my surroundings. Every shade of green seemed to exist in this place. The leaves, the moss, the ferns. Trees were covered with vines and flowers, algae-covered stones surrounded the creek beds. Birds flitted through the canopy on their daily tasks of living free.

After an hour of hiking, the world began to brighten with pure sunlight, we had come to the end of the trail and to the edge of the meadow.

Elain and Kevin had already gotten down on their hands and knees, babblings almost incoherently about the elusive flower they had come so far for that now stretched far and wide.

I let out a gasp. The Starfall was the purest white I had ever seen in nature; veins of almost metallic purple ran through the petals with spots of gold weaving between them. It was like a star had gone supernova and a god had captured it in this flower.

My fingers fumbled with the latches on my bag in the rush to bring out my pad. The world was forgotten as my pencils flew across the pages, capturing every curve and color.

Elain and Kevin wandered further into the field, which stretched out up and over a hill. I wasn’t able to follow them until I had filled at least five pages with sketches of the flowers.

When I was able to tear myself away from the beauty before me, I started to climb the hill. The view at the top took away what was left of my breath.

Blue-gray mountains climbed towards the sky where clouds had to bow to them to make their way across the sky. More green forests flowed towards them before thinning out on their slopes. A river cut through the scene, throwing off rainbows so it looked like the whole surfaces was more colorful than any pallet I could ever mix.

The other two had made their way partly down the hill, stopping here and there to make more observations. Elain turned around and waved, gesturing for me to rejoin them.

“I’ll stay up here! You two go on!” I shouted down to them. The scene in front of me demanded my immediate attention.

About twenty yards to my right there was an outcropping of boulders that would give me the perfect vantage point of the valley.

The rocks were already warming in the late morning sun and curved perfectly to fit my body. My sketchpad was once again in my hands, fervently bringing the day to life on the paper.

Hours or minutes could have passed by and I wouldn’t have known if not for the sun making its way across the sky.

The only thing that was able to break me out of my trance was the solid thumping of hooves on the ground behind me. The reverberations of them made their way through the boulders and into my body.

I paused; the butterflies that were flitting through the flowers suddenly found a new home in my stomach. A low, bracing breath was all that could comfort me as a smooth voice cut through the day.

“Gorgeous, is it?” Rhys asked.

I peered up at him. He was wearing the same uniform as last night, only with his hat now completing the ensemble. His horse was barely out of breath despite the fast stride it just came out of.

“Yes,” I finally managed to answer. Hopefully, he took my pause as admiration of the scene.

Rhys slid off of his mount and hooked a stirrup through the reins. He patted the horse and walked over to me.

“Is it okay if I take a seat?”

“Of course,” I moved my bag to the ground so that he could join me. I managed to find my thoughts again and asked, “Will your ride not leave you here?”

“I think if she did, I would be in good enough company that I would not mind,” he said with a smile in my direction.

A harsh blush betrayed me, and I turned my eyes back to my drawing.

“Mona knows better than to wander too far,” he amended, “She likes sugar cubes too much to leave me.”

I released a chuckle, some of the butterflies went with it. We sat in silence for a few minutes, the day too perfect to interrupt with meaningless chatter.

I continued to outline the curve of the river, erasing the lines a few times because my hand was still shaky with the nerves her caused me. If Rhys noticed, he gracefully didn’t comment.

“Did you like seeing the Starfalls?” he broke the silence but didn’t take his eyes away from the valley.

“They are…. beyond words for me. I’m an artist, not a poet. Anything I say couldn’t do them justice.”

“I felt the same way when I first saw them. I can’t draw or write, but I can sit and appreciate them,” he agreed, his deep voice rumbling and somehow perfectly complementing her thoughts.

My hand finally steadied enough to capture the river and I moved on to try to convey all of its colors.

“That drawing is already perfect, and you’re not even done yet, it’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” I nearly stammered, caught off guard by his praise. I need to get a hold of myself before I become a complete fool in front of him. “I can’t seem to stop drawing here.” I flipped through the pages, showing him my other sketches of the flowers and forest.

As fate would seem to hate me, I accidentally stopped on the page that had a rendering of him on his horse when I first entered the park. It was borderline messy and almost abstract but there was no mistaking the violet-blue eyes that pierced through green leaves.

“Ah,” he let slip out, “I bet I can guess who that is.” I refused to meet his gaze and quickly flipped back to my current drawing, hoping that he would let it go.

“I just realized I never got your name,” he commented, “I’m Rhysand, but my friends all call me Rhys.” He offered his hand across what little space separated us.

I tucked my pencil behind my ear and clasped his hand. It was warm and rough with calluses.

“Feyre,” I replied, meeting his eyes with my own. Up close and in the daylight, I could see that they were a dark blue-black around the rims that lightened into a purple near the pupil. There were what looked to be silver flecks in them, making them glow like a night sky.

Too late I realized I was staring, and a new blush stained my cheeks. My gaze returned to the page and I fiddled with the pencil behind my ear.

“Feyre,” he said, his slight accent gently rolling the ‘r’, making my name sound much sexier than it is. “I like it.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled. It seemed like the gods were determined to stop all rational thought when I was around this man. At least he had the good grace to be polite and ignore my idiocracy.

We continued to enjoy the warm sun that played hide-and-seek behind the clouds. I started up my sketch again, trading out pencils constantly to color the drawing. He seemed content to just watch the river go by. I guess as a park ranger, you have to be able to entertain yourself with your surroundings. It honestly didn’t sound too bad to me.

“Feyre, can I ask you a question?”

I hummed yes in response, the gray of the mountain currently absorbing my attention. Had I not been so caught up in my drawing, I would have seen the uncertain expression that crossed Rhys’s face.

“I was wondering if you—,” a rumble of thunder interrupted his sentence.

I whipped my head up and around, looking for the source of the disturbance. Clouds had begun to gather behind us, out of sight where they were able to sneak up.

Great big masses of grey that quickly overtook the sun and dimmed the day. Lightning flickered not too far in the distance, followed by more thunder that echoed in my chest.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I cursed and began to throw all my supplies into my backpack. The wind picked up and nearly threatened to tear the paper out of my book.

I managed to shove it into my bag and latch it closed. Rhys looked alarmed at my actions.

“Feyre? Are you afraid of thunderstorms?”

“No, I love them actually, but my bag isn’t waterproof and I can’t lose all my work.”

His eyes widened at the information and set his mouth in a grim line.

“Come on,” he grasped my hand in his and pulled me towards Mona who had returned to her master at the sign of rain.

“I’ll take you to the front office so you can save it.”

“What? Me? On a horse? I’m not sure—.”

“It’ll be okay, I won’t let you fall.”

I scanned the incoming cloud and looked down at my backpack. I couldn’t bear to lose all my work but the thought of being on the massive creature had me hesitating.

“What about Elain and Kevin? Will they be alright?”

Rhys’s face softened at my worry. “I’ll radio Az and see if he can get them under cover. If they stick to the trail, they should be safe. Storms out here don’t last too long and just dump a bunch of rain on us.”

His reassurance dashed away my last excuse. “Okay, how do we do this.”

He smiled, “I’ll have you ride behind me, it will be a tight fit but I think you can fit on the back of the saddle. You’ll have to hold on tight,” he instructed with a humorous glint in his eyes.

My stomach did interesting flips in response and I had to remind myself that this was not the time to be thinking about anything but saving my sketchpad.

I slung my bag across my back and secured it best I could.

Rhys hopped into the saddle first and left the stirrup closest to me open.

“Grab my hand and use the boulder as a stepping stool. Put your foot in the stirrup and swing your other leg over.”

I did as he instructed and soon I was situated behind him. It was a tight fit, but I was mostly able to squeeze onto the saddle. Rhys inserted his foot back into the stirrup.

“Hook your legs around mine the best you can and wrap your arms around me tight. We’re going to canter back to the office.”

I gulped and tried to tamp down my fears. The last time I had ridden a horse was at a petting zoo when I was 7 and the pony had barely wanted to move.

“Mona has a very smooth stride so it will be okay. Just try to move with my body,” he said, the tips of his ears turning red at this insinuation. At least I wasn’t the only one who could make a fool of themselves.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” I breathed into his ear, sending a small shiver down his spine. I could get used to this.

“Let’s go, Mona.”

The thunder was barely audible through the pounding of her hooves. Rhys was right that her gait was very smooth, once I fell into a rhythm, it was easy to relax a bit and enjoy the ride. The smell of the green forest wrapped around us, wind brushed our cheeks. We followed the wide trail, which only had gentle curves and no roots to slow us down.

Thunder sounded again; this time easily audible over the din of hooves. A drop of water splashed my nose, breaking through the canopy.

“We’re almost there!” Rhys shouted over his shoulder. I pressed against him harder.

We burst through the growth into the front parking lot as the sky began to open up.

What had taken me an hour to hike had only taken Mona 10 minutes to cover. I hoped Rhys would give her extra sugar cubes for saving my sketchpad.

I slung my leg over and dropped to the ground, my knees slightly giving out from the stiff position they had to hold. Just as the downpour began, I got myself under the cover of the awning, saving my backpack and its contents.

Rhys had dismounted too and tied Mona to the front railing. Water dripped off his hat as he came to stand before me. He removed it and ran a hand through his hair, further messing up the wild blown locks.

“Mission accomplished?” he asked.

“Yes,” I showed him my bag that had only a few spatters of water on it.

“Good.”

We stayed there, breathing a bit heavily through the rush of adrenaline that was fading from our systems.

“Thank you, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say that enough for saving my art.”

A grin split his mouth, the dark spark lighting up his eyes again. “It was my pleasure, Feyre darling,” he nearly purred, his eyes resting on my lips before returning to mine.

For the millionth time that day, a blush spread across my cheeks. I was starting to get tired of my body betraying me to a man I had just met and had no reason to believe he would think the same as me.

“And I know just the way you could say thank you.”

My breath caught in my throat, thoughts spinning through my mind, each dirtier than the rest. My tongue flicked out to wet my lips, his attention caught on it and stay there until he was able to refocus.

He broke his stare, looking out into the rain, an almost embarrassed expression rested on his face, a blush of his own highlighting his cheekbones.

“Would you like to go stargazing with me tonight? The rain and clouds will clear up for a perfect night and you’ll get to ride Mona again and I know the best spot in the park,” he started to ramble. “You don’t have to stay yes, I mean we just met but I thought—.”

“Yes, I would love to,” I saved him from his train of thought, holding back a giggle at his cute display.

A look of surprise followed by excitement flashed across his features. “Wonderful, I’ll pick you up after dinner?”

“Perfect.”

“Well, I’ll see you then, Feyre darling.”

Next Chapter

[talesofzero]

La Douleur Exquise - Ch. 4

AU; Chapter 4 - The Case of Violet

Shep’s chapter!!! This one tackles some weird ideas, so I hope the execution works. Let me know what you think!

~3k words

Everyone in the brothel said my skin was an odd color, but I didn’t see it that way. However it looked to them must have been similar to Desslar’s skin, but to me, Desslar was the same gray as everything else. He only gained color when he spoke - splashes of red, purple, and white. I’d never seen someone with such coloring.

Clients tended to have the same colors in their voices - greens usually meshed with the shades of red. When anyone spoke, the colors flooded their form and seeped into the air around them. 

Most of the other brothel workers had unique patterns, though. Susumu was beige and brown, Mamoru orange and yellow, Dick green and blue. Daiba was all reds, though some pink had mixed in lately. The new Tadashi was yellow and red and white and blue, and watching his voice was like a symphony. The old Tadashi, now dubbed Monono, tended toward a baby blue. Manabu had an odd mottling of blue and black that always made me anxious.

Zero had the same coloring after things went wrong.

So had Harlock. They’d both stayed that way for weeks before any trace of their old colors returned, but even now the old colors were faint. Harlock’s voice almost never exuded the loud yellows it did when I first met him.

He was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes. The first thing I could remember. His attempt to speak with me was gibberish to my ears. The words were foreign, but the colors that came along with them were familiar. I felt like I knew those swirls, somewhere once far away.

Harlock, though I knew nothing about him at the time, helped me sit up, and I found myself lying on a bed in an extravagant room. There was another man nearby fiddling with something. The two spoke a brief conversation before Harlock took hold of my hand and tried to talk to me once more. I found myself more interested in his hand grasping mine. Though my hand was bandaged, something about the sensation made my head roar with familiarity.

It was then I noted my other hand bandaged as well, restrictive cloth winding up my arm and across my bare chest. Reaching up, I found it on my face and forehead as well. I must have been a mess.

The other man walked over and fit an object, the one he’d been fiddling with, into my ear. When he spoke, the words formed meaning.

“Let’s try that. Can you understand me?” His voice was mostly brown broken by pools of dark blue, different from the reds that appeared when he spoke to Harlock.

For some reason, I knew I was unable to respond aloud, so rather than open my mouth, I nodded. It felt like the appropriate response, a form of confirmation.

“Can you speak?” he asked.

This time I shook my head.

“This is going to be a little difficult then,” Harlock said, a curious mix of orange, yellow, and purple. “My name is Harlock. This is Zero.” He gestured to the other man, who nodded. “Your ship transported here, so damaged it was basically scrap. We weren’t able to salvage much from it, and you were pretty badly injured.”

“I don’t know anything about a race with gold blood,” Zero said, “but with how much you lost, I’m amazed you’re still alive.”

My head listed to the side. It seemed we were of different races, not just different languages. 

“We’re humans, if you didn’t know,” Harlock offered. “Our blood is red, so we were pretty startled when we saw you like that and didn’t have a transfusion available. Luckily we have a sexaroid who was able to make enough sense of your anatomy to hold you together. Your wounds were largely superficial, likely caused by shrapnel. Whatever you had a fight with, you probably lost.”

“He did come out alive, so that’s something,” Zero said.

Another human knocked and entered the room with more bandages in hand. I later learned that humans could identify themselves in varying ways, and this one expressed “woman” rather than “man.” The variation in the translator took me by surprise at first, but I grew to a base understanding over time. Humans had a variety of identities. All the same but all different.

“Oh, he’s awake,” she said in flashes of yellow and orange as she pushed the tray into Zero’s hands. “How are you feeling?” she asked me.

I offered a smile in answer. Nothing hurt, so I felt content. Confused and lost but content.

“He can’t talk,” Harlock said.

“Have you tried giving him something to write on?” she asked. The two men looked at each other, and she rolled her eyes. “His race may not have a written language system, but it’s worth a shot.”

Perhaps women were the smarter variety of human. I was unsure, as I only met a few in my time at the brothel. She introduced herself as Kei and wrote it in some strange, flowing symbols on a square of what I later learned was paper. Harlock wrote his name as well, though the symbols were entirely different, several simple ones in a row. Zero wrote his name the same way, but his writing curved and flowed where Harlock’s drew to points.

When they handed the paper to me, I realized I didn’t know my name, but writing I could grasp. They peered at the paper with eager eyes as I sketched out a message. “I do not remember my name. I do not remember anything. Thank you for helping me.”

When I handed the paper back to them, they all frowned at it. Zero used some small device to scan it. His brows pinched as he looked at the device. “Whatever the language is, it’s not showing up in records. Decoding it may take some time.”

“It looks kind of like sheet music,” Kei said, tilting the paper and her head.

What followed was several hours of gesturing and doodling and yes or no questions, until I was finally able to convey my lack of memories to them. Zero suggested they turn me over to some sort of authority figure, but Harlock’s voice swirled with colors at the idea. “We don’t know who attacked him,” he said. “It’s not safe to turn him over to anyone right now.”

Zero’s voice dipped in hue. “Harlock, we know nothing about him. It’s possible…”

“You’re honestly going to look me in the eye and tell me you think he’s dangerous?”

I hoped they didn’t think that. I would never wish any harm to them or anyone else. Zero must have sensed that, as he sighed and shook his head. “Regardless, we can’t keep him at a brothel.”

“Sure we can,” Harlock said. “He can work here once he’s better.”

Zero’s eyes went wide. His whole body tensed.

Harlock threw his hands up. “Not as a whore! Just as a helper or something! Just so he can make some money!”

Despite Zero’s reservations and my own confusion of human customs, I became the new helper. They called me “Guitar Ship” for a while. Apparently my now-ruined craft looked like something called a guitar, but that was shortened to “Ship” almost instantly, and that was steadily slurred to “Shep,” which stuck.

But once I realized what the brothel business entailed, it became clear to me that I was better suited to being one of the whores than attempting to help cook or fix anything. More often than not, that resulted in a bigger mess.

Harlock did not approve of the idea one bit once I finally managed to explain my goal. “Shep, I appreciate your enthusiasm,” he said, though his voice became distressingly pink. “But it’s just… the anatomy… you don’t... it’s not…”

Before he could become more anxious, I offered my hand. “Hm, what is it?” he asked. Part of him seemed to understand, though, because he placed his hand in mine. I’d figured it out once the bandages came off, why a physical connection gave me such a rush. I knew what I could do.

I knew what Harlock wanted.

In a blink, the office around us became a bedroom I’d never seen, though it was all an illusion, like a dream - Harlock’s dream. Because I made the dream in the image of his views and desires, I saw color as he did. But I wasn’t part of what he wanted.

Harlock’s eye was wide with confusion and surprise as he spun to look around the room. His clothes had changed as well into some sort of odd pirate getup. 

“What is this?” he asked. “What’s going on? Shep?” But when he turned back, I was not myself. I was the person he desired. “Zero?” he choked.

“Relax, Harlock,” the Zero of his dreams said, placing his hand to Harlock’s cheek and leaning in close. “Isn’t this what you want?”

“No.” Harlock placed his hand to Zero’s chest. “This isn’t real. Enough, Shep.”

The dream shattered as Harlock came back to himself and tore his hand from mine.

Of all the times I wished I could speak, that was the greatest. I’d wanted to make Harlock happy, to give him what he wanted, but his shoulders were taut, his hand slapped over his mouth. Despite my intentions, I’d hurt him.

Harlock jolted as I fell to my knees in front of him. I had to apologize somehow. All I had were my actions, so I bowed my head. If he wished to hit me, I would take it.

Instead of a blow, Harlock breathed a laugh. I peered up to find him kneeling in front of me. His smile seemed forced, his eye worn, but his words weren’t far from their usual shades. “Sorry, you just startled me. Remember, our rule is absolute consent. I know it’s hard for you but you need some sort of affirmation before making a move on anyone. I don’t want...” He shook his head. “So you can manipulate people’s minds?”

I nodded. That description sounded crueler than I liked, but it wasn’t incorrect.

“I can understand how that would make you a good worker, but if you’re able to access clients’ ideals like that…” His gaze drifted toward the wall. “You might see some disturbing things. I wouldn’t want you to be under that kind of stress.”

I couldn’t understand why he was concerned for me. He should have been upset. He shouldn’t have been the one to apologize to me.

But that was just like him, always more worried about us than himself. Even after I was able to show him that I wouldn’t allow clients any dreams that broke the brothel’s rules, he checked up on me after every new client.

And after what happened to Zero, he sat by the locked door of Zero’s room for endless hours, murmuring apologies in that black and blue voice. Apologizing for something he couldn’t have predicted or controlled, just like with me.

But things got better. Colors returned. Daiba appeared with all his fires of red and Mamoru with his blinding oranges and yellows. Mamoru in-particular I could always see coming. He was always talking, so vibrant his color bled all over. It was infectious in a way.

“Shep,” he whined as he dropped into my lap where his brother had been not long before. “I lost most of my clients. Give me some of yours.”

I patted his cheek, uncertain what he was talking about. He didn’t seem too upset, so it must not have been a big deal.  

“What did you do?” Zero asked. “And who said you could come out of timeout?”

“I didn’t do anything. Some guy bought my brother exclusive, and he’s paying for all those clients I would have had, but now I’m going to have all this free time. I’m gonna be so bored!”

Manabu appeared as well, having tiptoed down the stairs when Zero wasn’t looking. He clambered over the back of the armchair Zero sat in, forcing Zero to scooch over and make enough room for Manabu to squeeze in next to him. “What?” Manabu cawed. “Susumu got a client to himself? Aw, I could have taken the client.”

With a worn smile, Zero ruffled Manabu’s hair. “Maybe next time. How about we have Monono make us some tea right now and just relax instead?”

Zero, Dick, and I had clients scheduled for Monday night, so this was our last chance to relax until then, but the reality was that Manabu could be soothed by horrible, bitter tea no matter how upset he got. Zero was just playing that to his advantage. He sent Tadashi to let Monono know of our request.

“So is Harlock going to be the one to let most of my clients know they can’t have their incest kink fulfilled anymore?” Mamoru asked. “Because I’m not dealing with that.”

A new voice with the same colors flashed from the entryway. “Can’t I have two seconds of being here without you saying something gross?” Kei called as she strode in. Her travel bag slid from her shoulder and hit the ground with a thunk. Whatever was in there sounded heavy.

“Kei, is that the equipment we sent you to get?” Zero asked, frowning at the bag. “Please be careful with it.”

“Don’t worry. I have it padded,” she said. “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“Daiba got a brother,” Mamoru said.

“More brothers? Jeez, don’t we have enough?”

Tadashi popped back out of the kitchen with a bag of chips he was eating by the handful. “He’s makin’ the tea,” he said through his munching. “Who’s that?”

Kei stared at him for a stretch, a deep frown forming along her features. “Did Harlock pick out that maid outfit?” she asked at length. “It’s pretty cheap looking. We have to get him a different one.”

“I picked it out!” Tadashi squeaked. “It wasn’t cheap!”

Kei put her hands on her hips. “Well, it looks like a costume. Don’t worry. I’ll get you a better one.”

“Anyway,” Zero called over them. “Kei, this is our new maid Tadashi Daiba. Tadashi this is our other bodyguard, Kei Yuki.”

“Daiba and his brother have the same name?” Kei muttered. “Well, anyway, nice to meet you, Tadashi. I’m going to go put my stuff down and wash up. Don’t be gross while I’m gone, guys.”

She scooped up the bag and headed upstairs. She must have spotted Daiba on the way because the red of him barking spilled out from the upstairs hall.

Our tea arrived shortly, while Mamoru continued to whine, and Manabu lounged against Zero. Zero was the only one Harlock would allow Manabu to get close to to ensure no one got too handsy.

“My client should be here soon,” Zero said after he finished his tea. “I’m going to go ahead and get ready. You should too, Shep.”

I nodded as Mamoru and Manabu began pouting. I would have given them some of my clients if I could. I had no use for the money Harlock gave me. He said if I ever remembered where I came from I could use the funds to buy a new ship and return, but I was content with my home.

After stretching out my legs, half-asleep from Mamoru lying over them, I headed for the stairs. As I reached the base of them, Desslar turned the corner at the top. His expression was plain, his eyes straight ahead. We walked on opposite sides going opposite ways, but when he reached the same step as me, he paused.

“You’re not Gamilan, are you?” He sounded as though he already knew the answer, and his words were now far more red and purple tinged with black.

I shook my head. I wasn’t certain what I was, but I felt we weren’t the same.

“Strange,” he said. “I feel like we’ve met.” He continued down without another glance, so I ripped my eyes from him and hurried upstairs. Passing my room, I knocked at Susumu’s. 

“Coming,” came the muffled response through the door. We didn’t lock our doors unless we had clients, yet I heard the bolt snap out of place. I tried to keep myself from looking too anxious as he opened the door. “Oh, Shep.” He smiled, but his words were all wrong, all black and mottled with blue. I couldn’t help but let my expression twist with concern. Something was wrong.

“Did you come to check on me?” he asked. “Everything went fine, so don’t look all worried. He was pretty easy to take care of, honestly.”

But the colors were wrong. It was like an infection had spread to him, the same one that claimed Zero, Harlock, and Manabu, the one that made them stare off at nothing with heavy, worn eyes. I took Susumu’s face in my hands, trying to speak with my eyes, begging him to tell me what was wrong.

He simply looked confused. “Shep, it’s alright. Everything went fine. Don’t you have a client soon? You should get ready for them.”

I so desperately wished for a voice, but all I could do was press my forehead to his. “Shep,” he sighed, drowning in that horrible blackened blue. “I’m exclusive now. You’re not allowed to touch me.”

I had no proof, no voice, no understanding, so I let him go to take care of my client instead. No one else seemed to notice anything amiss. The next morning Susumu smiled and laughed along with the rest of us. But that hue remained in his voice, and when he thought no one was looking, I saw his gaze grow distant, glazed with pain as he lost himself in that horrible color.

I would not allow it to infect anyone else in my home, in my family. I would free them from it.

[joneswilliam72]

The 405 Meets Rina Mushonga: On crafting her brilliant new album, life in Zimbabwe, Star Wars, her love of Paul Simon & so much more

Rina Mushonga is an artist of the world. Having grown up in Zimbabwe, lived in India, Holland, and more, she's come call London home to her musical endeavors. Yet, she carries influences from all her experiences across the globe, making her presence something of an antidote to our seemingly shrinking world. As fear and isolation encroach around us, Mushonga represents a beacon of positivity and warmth in a time where such vibes are desperately needed.

Her sophomore album, In a Galaxy, indebted to Afropop and more European shades of electronic alike, doesn't sound quite like anything else around, and is a true pleasure to consume. I was pleased to link up with Mushonga for a chat, which only proved to be more insightful and breezy than I'd dared hope. Read on below.

Also, be sure to catch her headlining live at The Shacklewell come the 19th of March if you happen to enjoy a good time.

*****

So, in the press release it says this record was 4 years in the making: is that referring to the time it took to find the various inspirations that inform the record / the period of time from which your drew experiences that spoke to the music, or were you writing/recording these songs across 4 years?

I think from writing and recording the first sketches, developing the demos and then final recording and post-production it was probably about 4 years of which the majority was writing and sketching really.

I started recording the first few 'demos' just before I moved to London and they just didn't come out right. We recorded in a friends studio and it was this amazing space but somehow it didn't quite come together or sound the way I had an inkling it should sound. I kept listening to my original sketches and preferring those to the end studio recording. After that I kinda pressed pause for a while on writing and recording. There was a lot going on with the move and existentially just a lot to process, leaving my band ...yeah it was tough. Once in Peckham I just took the time to settle myself a bit, to observe and experience. I dunno if I'd say 'finding inspiration' persé cause that sounds so intentional but yeah -- it was revitalizing being out of Amsterdam and in this new vibrant and indeed inspirational setting. I ruptured my Achilles heal which sort of forced me to finally just write everything down and re-start the whole process and it just poured out of me. I would take these sketches to Frans' (Verburg (co-producer)) and we'd develop the demos in his basement studio in Rotterdam -- no real pressure, just making tunes -- which was such a wholesome feeling. In 2016 I dropped an EP "Bullet" with the first inklings of the sound and vibe I built on for the rest of the album. I met Brett Shaw the summer of 2017 and over the course of about a year and a half the three of us put the record down.

So, going off that: I often think of albums as capturing a snapshot in artist’s life, but, of course, some albums are recorded over years and years, I’ve always thought that’d give an odd feeling for the person recording them: some material will speak to years gone by, while some other songs will possibly be very recent, was it like that for you? If yes, how is listening to the album like for you as an experience, does it feel like a “moment” or does it take you to different places and times within each song?

The songs on this record definitely span across time. Nothing's really of one time or even one place. A lot of the songs are hybrids even of present and past moments, songs, experiences. I think that amalgamated vibe sort of speaks through the album on different levels. When writing a lot of the songs it was definitely a time to take stock for me, looking back to look forward I guess. The last few years in Holland had been pretty frustrating and brought me a lot of anxiety and self doubt about making music. When I got to London and started writing for the album more intentionally a lot of anger and insecurity about that resurfaced that I wasn't fully aware of how much it had been this dead weight in my life. But listening back to the album is sort of like looking at a map of the past 10 - 15 years of my life in a way -- different songs speak to different times in my life, different places I've lived and communities I've been a part of, it addresses what community means to me, home, identity, the need for representation.

Having lived all across America, Scotland, and South Korea myself, I understand the feeling of drifting between home nations (at least somewhat!): did your experiences in each country radically differ from each other, or did you feel a common human thread between places? Have you had a favorite home?

The experiences were all definitely quite distinct and different. I guess having lived and grown up in these vividly different parts of the world also makes you acutely aware of preconceived notions about certain places. I went to high school in Zimbabwe in the 90s and I reckon my experiences as a teenager in Zim in many ways weren't all that different from kids in Amsterdam or London. I partied with friends listening to Morcheeba and Nirvana and Arrested Development, maybe mixed in with a bit more Bhundu Boys and Oliver Mutukudzi ... but still.

But then again experiencing Zim in my teens was very different to experiencing it in my 20s and 30s.

What's more in your face and hugely confronting is the inequality and massive divide between rich and poor which is a lot to process for a 16yr old who's also coming to terms with her sexuality and all that fun stuff. And this will sound wild but we moved back to Zimbabwe in my teens after having lived in Amsterdam and London for quite a while -- it was also just a jolt to be somewhere where the presumed dominant population, government, everything really, wasn't white. That first feeling really stuck with me. How, if we don't step outside our 'bubbles' or look beyond where we live or come from, we can get a very warped view of what the global 'norm' is. And always, always, always that representation matters -- how impactful it is to see yourself reflected back in your surroundings.

Living in Holland was different in the sense that it's where I actively started pursuing a career in making music I guess. But Holland's quite homogenous in many ways and I grew evermore painfully aware as a woman of colour how un(der)represent people of colour are which was further compounded by an upsurge in racism and a disturbing unwillingness to confront its problems with institutionalised racism. It all just made me feel less and less at home and was part of the reason we left in the end...new horizons and wanting to live somewhere that felt more inclusive and looked more like the world I knew was out there.

But Zimbabwe in particular holds my heart -- I feel creatively rejuvenated whenever I visit, there is in many ways still a world of opportunity there to make things new, and despite the hardship a hunger to create and express and thrive.

How precisely did Metamorphoses inform the album? Do characters factor as voices in at all, or all of the songs reflections of self?

I think I was drawn by the theme of transformation. I was reading at a time that I was experiencing a lot of transformation in my life and these magical tales of people turning into swans and trees and the layers of meaning just resonated with me. It's all very Midsummer Nights' Dreamish I guess -- the mythical madness of it all and I wanted to bring some of this magical, almost sort of luxurious, tropical vibe I experienced reading it into the album. Of course 'AtalantA' was directly inspired by the story of AtalantA the huntress who I loved using as this symbol of female power and perseverance, this guardian female warrior who'd kick any #metoo #timesup asshole in the nuts. And 'Narcisc0' is a subtle nod to Narcissus and his unfortunate obsession with his own reflection. So there's bits n pieces all over in various forms. But it's not a concept album or anything -- 'Tropix' was inspired by The Great Gatsby for example, so I had no qualms deviating from the script as it were. ;-)

Was Star Wars truly an inspiration for the title? Were you thinking of Joseph Conrad or more just a fan of the movies?

Yeah, for sure. I mean I'm no Star Wars nut by any means, but I grew up watching those films and that opening reel of course ... it sort of popped up when writing 'In A Galaxy' the title track --- that came first really and for the album title I was searching for something all encompassing, something that could convey the geographical scope of the album as well as all of these global human connections I was thinking and writing about.

The concept of Earth as part of a galaxy and how that sort of breaks down all these bullshit borders and barriers we put up to distance ourselves from each other and feel superior to each other, really spoke to me. Also I love those scenes where they're in some alien intergalactic bar and you've got all these wild looking alien species walking around sipping weird luminescent drinks and the humans in that set up always felt very much like the odd ones out which I loved.

What have you been listening to of late?

The glorious new Sharon van Etten album has been on repeat for sure. Also I'm absolutely in love with ROSALÍA -- her album is mesmerisingly beautiful. Beatenberg (South African band) , Kelsey Lu, Noname, BEA1994, Serpent with Feet.

What was (were) the last great thing(s) you read?

Mythos and Heroes both by Stephen Fry I've devoured. They lay out the origins and chronology of Greek Mythology through his awesome retelling of a hell of a lot of the great stories. It's charming and smart and funny and accessible. It helped revise a lot of Ovid's Metamorphosis and explain a huge chunk of stuff I just didn't get.

Is there a genre or artist you love that would surprise people? (K-pop stan here, shalln’t lie)

Ha. I'm not sure how surprising it is... but when I'm on holiday and want to truly disconnect from the outside world I love listening to old country and folk and Americana. Like Dolly Parton and the McGarrigle sisters, EmmyLou Harris ... all that good stuff is totally my musical comfort food.

What were your electronic influences coming into recording? Was it an area you’d already personally been interested in, or something collaborators began to sell you on?

I've always loved and listened to 80s Pop and Afropop / Afrobeats... I was pretty late to the game re HipHop but that's also been a growing influence these past few years especially how genre-redefining it's become.

But mainly it's been through working closely with Frans Verburg. He played keys in my band since my first album. I call him the synth whisperer and besides being a phenomenal pianist he also brings a lot of technical savvy but mainly synthesiser enthusiasm to the table. Frans and I also share a common love for Afrobeat and a common drive to produce something new and fresh sounding, so it was easy to develop a sort of short-hand with him and communicate what I was going for. He's been really...ehm...instrumental in helping me develop my new sound and interpreting and translating all my wild ideas with the warmth and depth and creative capacity synthesisers and electronica bring with them.

Developing the album we were listening to a lot of Afrobeat, but also stuff like John Wizards, this great South African artist who also has this cool way of fusing 'traditional' African textures with contemporary electronica and beats in a way that isn't contrived and that felt really fresh to us.

I really love Francis Bebey too and his weird and wonderful combination of the traditional and the electronic. But yeah, Frans has been key to this whole development and it's been such a joy and honour working with him on this.

Fully realizing it’s early days yet, would you expect to look towards literature for inspiration for your next record, or do you imagine you’ll find the music in entirely different places?

Absolutely. I think literature will always feature heavily in the music I write. I majored in English Lit at Uni, partly because I thought it'd help me with my writing. Also cause I felt literature in a way was like simultaneously studying sociology and psychology and history. But yeah, the stories are all there and writing about how I connect with them or using them as references to communicate personal processes and experiences has always felt very natural. But it's definitely not an exclusive source by any means ... I get a lot of 'material' inspiration from watching bad tv for example, there's a lot of telenovelas and sci-fi werewolf vampire angst in there too ... haha.

It seems you had a bit of a Rear Window experience (minus the witnessing a murder bit, I’d hope) after your injury - can you tell a bit of that story for readers unfamiliar with it, and perhaps if there were any particularly inspiring or memorable experiences from watching the outside world go by?

Haha whoops...I shamefully had to youtube the trailer for this --- aargh. But yeah I get what you mean now ;-)

Yes, the summer after I arrived in London I ruptured my achilles tendon playing football. We were still crashing at a friends place in Peckham and just having a great time being in London. I was pretty gutted cause it was a glorious summer and everything was happening, Peckham was vibrant and just popping and I was stuck inside. But it forced me to stop procrastinating with writing the album for sure. I had a mini set-up in the living room, mic, midiplayer, guitar, laptop and my foot in a cast perched up on the couch. I could hear Peckham outside my living room window which was glazed so I couldn't see much...but that weirdly also helped. I could hear people arguing and laughing and kids coming home from school and people going into town and I'd often hold the mic up to the window to record snippets of conversation or laughter and work those into the tracks. Some of those samples made it to the album, but all definitely helped set a tone. As I got a bit more crutch savvy and could hop into Peckham I started recording more of the sounds on the highstreet, west African hair salon ladies shouting at me from across the street if they could please just sort out my mad hair or just traffic, passing conversations, African churches... I did a lot of lurching outside windows with my phone held up in the air.

Was Paul Simon a direct influence on In a Galaxy or were you more simply comparing the vibes / storytelling?

I think I mean the fusion of Afro/Western Pop vibes more. Paul Simon was a musical staple in my family, and Johnny Clegg too -- they both combined western Pop with AfroPop to create something truly phenomenal. I think that's always stuck with me cause I identified with that on a personal level of course-- like, this music is how I feel, straddling two worlds as it were. It's also always been a challenge figuring out how to create something that's balanced, contemporary and represents all these parts of my musical heritage.

How would you describe the sound of the album? The Afropop angle is certainly evident, but I hear plenty of other things going on~ would love them in your own words~ we just journalists tend to be (partly from necessity, to be fair, gotta sell the reader) so reductive.

I think I called it 'Paul Simon in a sweaty African dancehall club' somewhere. But to be honest I find it excrutiating to really pin it down because in a way we've tried really hard to create something you haven't quite heard before, which granted is rediculously ambitious if not impossible...but yeah. I mean I had a long Yeasayer on repeat phase and discovering them really instilled more confidence to combine Pop with freakier more unusual elements. My song structures tend to be all over the place generally cause I hate repeating anything...which is very un-Pop -- Brett Shaw helped steer things in that department with ' why don't you bring that back again it's really good and I want to hear it again' ... I mean compliments will get you everywhere.

Vampire Weekend, Blood Orange, Santigold, TuneYards, Dirty Projectors, Arcade Fire. All that sort of off kilter synth pop with afropop flourishes really speaks to me and has undeniably helped me push that vibe on the record.

I read that Charlottesville informed ‘Glory’ (which I think might be my favorite track, but tough call!), would you say the Trump era / encroaching bitterness and terror of the world at large influenced the record in other ways? (Or you can simply speak on ‘Glory’, I can always edit questions to fit the answers you give later :) ) I came home from Korea, who had just ousted a corrupt President, and put a (reasonably) forward-thinking, good man into office, it gave such a feeling of hope to witness, and returning to Trump...it was truly soulsucking.

Yes I feel you on that. And coming from Zimbabwe where we've just gone from one nutso tyrant to the next has been equally soul sucking. I think what I mentioned earlier about living in Holland and experience this upsurge in racism and xenophobia played a huge part in the anger I was feeling writing this and 'Narcisc0' too. It feels so personal, my father (who's Zimbabwean) literally left Holland cause he felt so undermined and belittled, a professor in business studies and governance until you go to the job centre , there they immediately suggested he try and do some work as a janitor or cleaning office buildings. I could see him grow tired and angry and sad...every time he flew anywhere with my Mum (who's Dutch) he'd be the one singled out and stopped to search -- like my parents told me this almost as an afterthought because they got so used to this they kinda felt it was normal -- and it just enraged me --- I mean fuck-- all these nations built on the backs of the peoples and countries they're trying to keep at arms length --- the injustice, arrogance and inhumanity of it just makes enrages me. Seeing those people en masse chanting and marching the streets with tiki torches and brazenly out in the open as if they had nothing to be ashamed of -- it just set me off --- that feeling of being violently hurled back in time, as if all that struggle amounted to nothing --- that's that sentence ' and backwards we won't go' ... and then have a 'president' so jaded and corrupt not call it out and condemn it in no uncertain terms...that's just brutal...but yeah...stick it in a song n carry on I guess 🙄

I see and hear your remarks about white male fragility so clearly. (admittedly speaking as a white male) It’s so draining seeing these vital movements being twisted...like the recent stuff with people boycotting Captain Marvel simply because Brie Larson said something entirely harmless...I imagine it’s just the patriarchy having been comfortable for so long the slightest jolt to their power frightens them...I didn’t so much ask a question here but I’d love to hear any thoughts you have on the subject. Go off, if you like.

Ah -- yes -- it's just so sadly predictable and yet I still somehow find myself in a constant state of shock. I think it's the hijacking of the narrative...the blatant disregard of what's being said and just bulldozing back with 'not all men' or 'that's reverse sexism/racism' --- that bugs me the most --- that people can be so unwilling to look passed themselves to try and comprehend or empathise with someone else's propagated, state sponsored subjugation and feelings of exclusion and inequality that are like embedded in the fabric of our society.

Anyways, I think what's powerful about what Brie Larson's doing here --- when POC or any women call this shit out most of the time it'll be eye-rolling -- 'oh you're pulling the race card or the gender card again' type responses -- but I'm like...Hello !! Pull that fucking card and wave it in the air till your arm drops off and if you're white or straight or male then help call it out all the more -- be aware -- look around and think what am I contributing to this narrative...is this the space and time for my interjection, or am I hijacking someone else's narrative cause I love the sound of my own voice. Lord believe me I know it's tiring --- but think of how exhausting it is being on the receiving end of this for a kazillion years n then come at me.

So, how did you break into the music industry itself? I imagine it’s been a journey. Were you playing and recording while in India or Zimbabwe or so on? (I don’t know how young you were in either place, my bad if you were 5 or something haha)

Haha no worries -- I was born in India and left when I was 2yrs old -- so no studio time in India. It has been a long journey and honestly I still feel like I'm breaking in but yeah... I started performing in Harare at a joint we all hung out at on Thursday nights called The Book Café. It was thé spot where we could try out material but also jam with each other --- a bunch of culturally intrigued teenagers being all hoity-toity and artsy haha. It was pretty awesome though and I learnt a lot. I met Chiwoniso Mareira there around those early days -- she was one of the up and coming greats in Zim and we became good friends. She, again, blended traditional textures, played the Mbira but wrote songs with these contemporary Pop structures. We became fast friends and I learned a lot from her. She's the first person to deconstruct 'Strange Fruit' for me (the Nina Simone cut). I left soon after high school to study in Europe. I put my music on hold to focus on my studies...but the moment I graduated I was like --- right -- this is the thing I want to do most. I went back to Zimbabwe to reconnect with my music there I guess, I craved somewhere I could just try shit out and jam, no pressure or expectations and learn from local musicians and see where my sound would land and fit.

A friend put up some bucks for me to record an EP. It got picked up by an agency in NL and I moved there soon after and things kind of picked up from there. I landed a deal quite quickly after that and recorded my first album etc etc. And then a whole other crazy journey started haha.

How did you go about finding collaborators you felt at home with? Whether Brett Shaw or Frans Verburg, or so on? I see Verburg is referred to as a bestie, how did you originally link up, there a fun story there?

I met Frans when he joined my band in Holland playing keys. I love his musical choices and his style of playing and it was obvious from the start that he had a lot of great ideas to contribute and I dunno, I just trusted him quite quickly. Working together just sort of developed quite naturally. It's kinda like working with family really --- like we can cut through the bullshit and say stuff like 'I really hate that sound you're making!" or "that sounds like balls" and it not be a whole personal drama thing and I think that was really important for me going into making the second album, feeling safe enough to fully take charge and ownership of my ideas without feeling guilty or embarrassed. He never co-opted or sidelined my opinions and ideas -- and you'd think that was a normal thing considering we're working on my record...but being in a studio with mainly men can all too often become all about their feelings and their ideas and I wanted to stay well clear of that...I needed to in order to make this album and not look back and think damn, if only I'd stood up for myself more.

We initially went into the studio with Brett and recorded 'AtalantA' to just get a feel for each other and see if it'd work. Brett's personality is very different to mine and Frans'. Frans is like super Dutch as in pretty blunt or direct haha. Together we're also quite nitpicky about stuff plus we already had this shorthand working with each other -- but Brett brought this quiet steady force, gently guiding us here and there, always respectful of the ideas we brought with us into the studio. Frans and I had done a lot of the preproduction already and sometimes it's hard to let go of those ideas -- demo-itis ... but Brett was always just able to steer us to impliment small, smart changes here and there that had a huge impact on the overall outcome. Haha, reading that back Frans and I sound like a nightmare to work with...but we're darlings I promise ;-)

So the recording process was mainly just the three of us in the studio -- which is what I wanted -- a small intimate team -- to shut out all the noise and opinions and be better able to tune into my own thoughts and gut instinct without interference.

What are your hopes and aspirations moving forward?

I mean, I obviously hope that the album helps create more and better opportunities to create, perform and collaborate. I mean I think it sounds pretty straightforward -- but it's some serious hustling just to make music and tour and all the fucking hurdles you have to jump through to get ahead --- the bills --- the industry, and all the noise and logistics --- it really makes making music pretty hard sometimes.

I've always really admired Justin Vernon and how he works on all these different projects, musically, but also creating these great platforms and festivals. I love that idea of project based work cause it'd give me room to make music that sits in different genres and not make me feel trapped into having to only produce this one type of sound.

So basically make more amazing music and work with brilliant people preferably in beautiful places haha --- and I'd like to do more music for theatre and film. I wrote the score for a friend's documentary last year (Big Wata) and I really enjoyed that process.

But yeah -- I just want the good life really --- making music and travelling and exploring all the new creative possibilities that come my way.

If you could hypothetically record your next album anywhere on Earth, where would that be? No constraints from reality, in the ruins of Pompeii, anywhere!

I'd love to just take a small team of good people and record somewhere beautiful like Mozambique or Brazil or Jamaica -- somewhere warm and gorgeous with lots of rum and a beach nearby and ... hang on... this is sounding more like I just want to go on holiday with my friends -- hahaha ...which, to be fair, ain't no lie!!

from The 405 https://ift.tt/2TkJ3EU

[rowanartist]

Fan Fiction Quotes 2017:

"[Steve and Bucky] start a scholarship fund for Women in STEM students and name it after Peggy Carter"notes of ao3 ficyes!

"Maybe it was why he was failing so horribly now, he was too wrapped up in thinking to actually focus on the too-soft task that was quite literally at hand."Xpersonally relatable, overthinking

"He tries not to, but Steve gets that cold, sick feeling that he always gets, whenever somebody talks about him being attractive. He knows how he looks, and he can’t spend two minutes online without being reminded that the world is a big fan of the strong body and jaw that the serum gave him. He just wishes it didn’t feel so much like it’s because being scrawny and sick was some kind of aberration that had been corrected. That he wasn’t worth a dime of love or affection until he was Captain America."ch1while this might be a more extreme case, what are you supposed to do with being called beautiful? It's nice to hear but also confusing, there's more to me. "“Dracula,” Nat says simply, and heads for the elevator. Romania, then. -- “I’ll bring garlic!” Steve calls after her, and she sends him a smile over her shoulder."ch2amusing and playful. Made me smile "Tony Stark is a good person to cry in front of. He’ll only ever mock your strengths, not your weaknesses."[ch3]interesting characterization of Tony

"Ma'am, this is Steve Rogers. Yes ma'am, that one. I appear to have an unconscious HYDRA operative on my front stoop. Yes ma'am. Tied up with his own jacket. There is a gun, ma'am, but its barrel is currently at a 90-degree angle. I guess I need ... the FBI? No ma'am, I have no earthly idea."[X: ch9]funny, :) "chewing on the totally amazing future invention that is grilled cheese with egg and ham on it (seriously: why do these people still have wars)"[X:ch10]I've never tried egg on a grilled cheese... "Hey. Note: it is useful knowledge for living to have a list of things that are good no matter what."[X:ch20]good note. "His anger is a sound between his ears like a train. It is a tight band around his chest. It is hands that ache to do violence."[X:ch23]seems like good wording

"He started sketching Bucky out dancing, spinning a dame around with a huge grin plastered on his mug. He penciled in a big ol’ bow on the back of her dress like she was the best present a guy could want. But the picture was still all about Bucky. The crinkles around his eyes, staring Steve down with a challenge for him to get out there and have a whirl. Steve could hear Bucky’s laugh now."[X]pretty picture "Steve was a furnace built of muscle and good intentions, held together with a Brooklyn drawl and a heap of sass. "[X]lol

"It's not that different from close quarters fighting, really," she told him. "Think of it like you're trying to block me from getting past you, but do it to the beat. Stay loose and ready to move in any direction."[X]found because I liked some of the authors other works and the Fandom. I don't have any experience with fighting and little with dancing but it would make sense from the grace of good fight scenes in movies and tv. "I need to be able to trust anyone I'd want to go to bed with, not necessarily be in love with them."[X]interesting idea...

"A son’s faith in his father is absolute when he is small; especially when that father is the only parent the boy has"[ch7]part of growing up is learning and accepting that your parents are wrong, and sometimes it takes someone special to tell you

"Badass by day, adorably snuggling our nightmares away by night."[X]stumbled along this because of another post and tumblr's check out other posts feature. . .

"The Hulk is part of you, but he's not all of you. We know that,"[X]a reread, i don't think I pulled this quote our last time. Reread because of another quote [quote art]

"Reviewing what he knew of both [Peggy and Nat], Bucky wondered for a moment if he should be afraid, but figured that they would both take a 'firm, but fair' attitude when they ruled the world."[ch2]believable "Sorry. Just.” Bucky let go, but made Steve meet his eyes. “Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm not nagging, honestly.” -- “He cares about you, Steve, and is telling you so,” Peggy said. “Accept it like the fucking adult you are.” -- “I have cartoon pajamas, I am not an adult,” Steve informed her. "[ch4]the bold could have been a quote on its own, but on a more serious note I wanted the rest of the conversation... "Do you have any idea what it's like to be married to the angriest saint in the world?"[ch 10]amusing... "He's good and giving and kind, and sometimes he doesn't feel well and is under the impression that it cancels out everything else."[ch10]I relate, it can be hard when you're frustrated and angry with yourself "“Have fun,” Peggy said, and physically shoved him away from Steve and out the door, because she was very helpful like that."[ch12]yeah, I've had a few moments like that... "“I don't not enjoy having you here,” Steve said, pushing up on one elbow. “Bucky, don't ever think that. It's more like...I can't feel anything. Like I go numb, and don't care. And that mixes with sadness, sometimes,” he admitted. “But mostly it's just...dull. And awful. But I still know that someone loves me and is here and cares.”"[ch16]ponder Same series "Bite your tongue. There are so many ways to love people, and you got to do them all today,” Bucky pointed out. “It's a perfect Valentine's Day. One love isn't better than the other, and it shouldn't be given priority.”"[X]interesting point, Valentine's day really doesn't have to be about couples/romantic relationships, but all types of important relationships! Same Series "there's a middle ground between throwing a fit and being completely determined to not bleed on anyone else,” "[ch1]But finding that middle ground can be difficult. I also feel Steve's response when Bucky said that Steve had a "shit day": "Plenty of people have had worse days,”

"“Bucky you’re having a panic attack and I need you to listen to me. I need you to breathe. Focus on me okay? Focus on me and try to breathe with me.”"[part5]handling a panic attack. Sometimes it can be hard to accept the help remembering to breathe, like I messed up and don't deserve it. "Felt the need to explain himself more, as though acting without talking through it first was dangerous"[part+1]kinda get this for different reasons?

"Anytime [Bucky] managed to scrape together enough money after all the bills, he dragged Steve to the latest exhibit, marveling over everything. Steve, tending to look at things through a more artistic gaze, gaped at the beauty of science and Bucky’s child-like enthusiasm."[X]I'm not sure which one I'm more like. "Getting his overactive mind to shut the fuck up is a work in progress."[X]yeah, I know the feeling "as if [Bucky]’s the sunshine to cut through Steve’s rain."[X]just really nice turn of phrase "“You’re thinking too hard.” A whisper. A life boat to which Steve shamelessly clings to."[X]isn't it nice to let yourself do that? "I love spending time with you. I don’t regret a single second of it. I don’t need my space. But a relationship is between equals, Steve. After everything that happened, I needed to find myself apart from you, like you have. We needed to get back on the same page"[X]maybe. Standing on your own doesn't necessarily mean space. I will need to work on that some day, reaching out and making my own place.

"But this means showing emotion or allowing himself to feel. It means overwhelming himself, easily. It means not being able to convey everything he’s feeling ending in frustration ending in doubt, leading to locking himself up in a room. He hates it."[X]comments

"The Winter Soldier," Stark repeats. "Freezer Burn, the Russian Mob. Ice Ice Baby. Sid Vicious, the White Russian, Psychosicle, MC Hammer and Sickle--"[X]I like the variety of nicknames, quite a few I haven't seen before.

"Wow," the man says, without introducing himself. "Guess they did freeze at the peak of freshness"[ch11]lol, very Tony like

"Yes, okay, so you’re Bucky Barnes and you’re President Barnes’ son and that holds a lot of weight. But you could have chosen not to go. You could have said that it wasn’t your problem and just stayed home. But you went, and you talked to those people and you inspired them and you showed them solidarity. That was all you, and that counts. No matter what you think, that counts."[ch4]choosing to try to make a difference, no matter how seemingly small , can be very important "I’m the only person who ever gives it to you straight. Which is ironic seeing you’re as straight as a paperclip!"[ch16]not straight jokes are kinda amusing. I'm not sure if that's problematic or not... P.S. once I finished the fic I realized how much I liked Aunt Helen!

"He's an adult, you can't trust him to do the job correctly."[ch12]this fic is also in my fic rec. These kids are hilarious! "Not really much to tell." He shrugged. "Best friend. Prat. Housemate. Sometimes co-parent, sometimes yet another child to look after. That sums everything up perfectly."[ch12]amusing

"Hlupak—Czech word for "idiot". I have arbitrarily decided that Czech and Sokovian share some vocabulary, including insults. It is also my headcanon that hlupak was something Wanda called Pietro a LOT."[ch1:end chapter notes]lol

"wondering whether the total inability to sleep is a side effect of the serum or a side effect of his life."[X]sounds like a conundrum ""I know my brother. He would never be happy without somewhere to run.""[X] "You'd be smarter to stay out of this," Steve warns. -- "I don't believe intelligence was mentioned in the orientation packet." -- "That's 'cause we're all idiots. I don't want you to lose your home, Wanda. "[X]yupI wish there was more.

"As much as you can,” he said, “stay in the eye."[X]odd little fic but not bad

"Right. Does that mean Iron Man's gonna come get you?" -- "Captain America—actually." Purple Shirt groans as he tries to sit up. "He—worries too much. "[X]that sounds likely :) "You carried an orphaned kitten around in your jacket for like a week. You want me to be scared of you? Try harder."[X]cute

"Faint gamma signature, uncomfortably familiar shade of mindfuck blue, localized weirdness... You know, I really hate portals. Have I mentioned how much I hate portals?"[X]the bold bit was particularly amusing, in the laugh in order to not be negative way "Scientist wrangler and pop-culture expert," Darcy interrupted cheerfully."[X]nice intro for Darcy! "Think about it. My lady love, your lady love, every terrifying woman they know, bonding...""[X]Peggy, Pepper, Nat, Jane, Darcy, Maria, Kate maybe others... "Sam was wearing his you're being stupid right now face"[X]most characterizations of him he does this enough it's a know thing "Frank Sinatra launched into a jazzy rendition of "I'll Be Seeing You," the opening number of Darcy's "Old People" playlist. "[X]of course Darcy has an "Old People" playlist. Followed by: Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy; You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To by Dinah Shore more from the comments: "The Trolley Song" (because Darcy is terrible), and ends with Vera Lynn singing "We'll Meet Again." "So they were there like gentlemen, waiting on the sidelines and holding Peggy's flower while she kicked that Bad Week's ass."[X]a quote from the comments; I like it for the facing hardships motto... "The archer plays Cupid!"[X]more from the comments

*brendaonao3.tumblr.com: Brenda’s Long-Ass Under-Appreciated Fanfics Appreciation/Rec Post Part 1*

"he hated making Bucky worry for no good reason, mostly because of how often he made Bucky worry with reason"[X]not really sure how I feel about it, characters seem good but I'm not sure I feel the chemistry?

"Iron Man pinned to the ground, held down by Alice and the White Rabbit while the Mad Hatter bashed at his helmet with a teacup"[X]very amusing and I should draw. Statues.(Also, later:"That's a big whale")

"Yeah, real handsome. All the dolls will be swooning.” Bucky winked, and it was easy as anything to reply, “There's only one doll whose swoon I want, sweetheart"[X]goofy and fun, I like it "younger man hunched in a similar manner over his book, sitting crosslegged on Steve's bed. Steve remembered glancing up from his sketch of something unimportant at the same time as Bucky looked up, and their eyes met, and they leaned across the bed toward each other. When they kissed, their bodies formed an arch over the bedspread, like the ceiling of a cathedral. Then they went back to what they'd been doing"[X]nice imagery

"Sometimes, even with all of the positive developments - or maybe partly because of them, who knows - it all gets to be a bit much for Steve, which makes him feel guilty, because it’s not like he’s the one who’s working through seven decades of manipulation and brutality"[X]relatable, the "why should I be the stressed one?"(note: talking heads song this fic, Bruce) "such as interrupting one of Tony’s endless attempts to impress him with Midgardian science by saying, “Truly a valiant effort, my friend” and patting Tony on the head), "[X]amusing, I bet Tony has an opinion on that, not sure what though [Steve]"Are you judging me right now?" [Sam]“Not at the moment, no. But I reserve the right to do so at a later date, depending on what your dumb ass comes up with next" [Steve]"Fair enough"[X]comments

"Anytime Bucky gets in the elevator alone, JARVIS talks to him the whole time."[X]awww

" would wrinkle his nose, not because of the smell as much as what the smell meant"[X]personal reasons: yeah I don't like the smell but I'd never thought about it before until I learned of the part it played between my parents...I like this fic center

"Because I don’t understand,” he admits at last. “You’re--good. Everything about you is good. If anyone can see the truth about me, it should be you. I want to understand what you see in me so that I can try to be good again too" It feels ridiculous, having said the words aloud. [X]same paragraph as the next quote "He has a fleeting half-thought about what it would be like to fling himself off the rooftop, but he knows he never actually will."[X]...not actually suicidal?

"Guilt or croutons, Steve, those are your choices. You'll just have to live with it."[X]I feel you Steve

"The Winter Soldier reads each and every label carefully, deciding between hydrocodone and acetaminophen and naproxen sodium."[X]*whine* the first one is more heavy duty than the other two (Tylenol and Aleeve)

"He could simply read the title off the book, but he loves the way Bucky’s eyes light up when he gets to tell Steve about whatever he’s reading."[X]this is sweet, and the answer is amusing "Figures. You love the man who sings about the little people. That’s so you."[X]I like the music section that follows this quote...

"He lets it sit on his tongue, imagines he can feel it dissolve into fats and proteins, weaving together to build muscle or stoking the fires of his mitochondria, warming him."[X]meditative idea??

"A good spy never let on that his primary observations about the human character came from Disney films"[X]lol "The human version of toast that lands butter side down, every time,"[X]wow, what a way to describe Clint Barton!

"He craves [human closeness], Bucky knows, reveres it so much that he’ll never take it for granted, that he rarely dares to ask for it"[X]relatable

"Genuine kicker of all Nazi ass, and he blushed like a schoolgirl. Dork."[X]comments

"He's not so stupid he'll ignore the fact that when Steven "My Blood Group is Apple Pie" Rogers threatens to end you, he means it literally literally."[X]not actually from the fic rec but this one inspired one on the fic rec... "hobo-sex-kitten "[X]uhm, where else can that even be applied. Tony narration can be unique

"‘I’m Bucky Barnes.’ He meets him halfway for a second. ‘And I take my own orders.’"[X]this line just stuck me

"Explain how necking with an estranged assassin is a favor," Bucky replies, miffed."[X]this fic, the story game?

"Ah, shit, you came in through the window didn’t you?"[X]made me laugh

"Being Iron Man doesn't make his brain shut up, exactly, but it tunes out the shit that doesn't matter better than anything else he's tried, and he's tried everything.)"[X]makes me think about my boyfriend explaining how SCA fighting or shooting at a gun range are for him.

*pause on the fic rec, I'll get back to reading it later

"Look man, all I’m saying is that for years you gave me someone to look up to for my entire life. ....You gave me someone to look to when I was feeling lost. I know that I’m nothing special, but you seem pretty lost right now. Figured you needed a little push, just like you used to give me."[X]Steve and Violet pt5, Tumblr fic

"More than once, James has ended up on the couch with Sam playing with his hair with a nature documentary on mute. He does the narration. Orcas are assholes"[X]found because of unclesteeb.tumblr.com

"When Steve thinks about Sam his heart does this funny thing where it feels like it’s overrun with kittens and puppies. Everything’s tiny patters of fluffy feet and pastel sugar plums made of candy. "[X]again, unclesteeb

"It's always the middle of winter, Jimmy never dreams of spring, no matter that his entire life is about being reborn, again and again -"[X]nice symbolism, and I'm not even a literary nerd. Also, from the fic rec from before...

"It's like he puts out some super pheromone that makes one believe in truth, goodness, and harebrained schemes."[ch1]I read the original story previously because of a fan art "Confirm. Green thing Hulk is tough and focused. And it's so big that it draws attention away from Steve"[ch1]amusing,particularly Steve's reaction :) "Building is a mission-assist for everyone."[X]awww/lol "One day at a time, Sam says, unless it takes one minute at a time, and then you do that."[ch7]good advice from Sam, of course Just all of chapter 8! "It's rude to assign gender without asking, Stark."[ch9]response to Tony arbitrarily tendering one of his bots (admittedly he does it to annoy Tony but...) "Barnes receives a majestic eyeroll, worthy of bald eagles and amber waves of grain."[ch11]amusing "Assists in your mission to live a good human life"[ch11]awww! Cuteness, I love this AU at Halloween time!

"and sits crammed into the corners of sofas, staring out."[X]same Series as previous set. I relate. Is it "a desire for human hugs" (blame Frozen for the phrasing) "America's mighty chin of stubbornness juts out like Plymouth Rock."[X]lol "Captain Fret wearing his worried expression"[X]yup

"All of the Bucky/Banner introductions, throughout the universes, have generally gone as well as two introverted weapons of mass destruction meeting could go."[ch6]was inspired by the last one

"I get lost in that feeling. Sometimes I need to rehash everything to get it all back in order in my head."[X]relatable I think from this fic rec

"I know that we– well, I –the last few times we’ve tried to, um, God why can’t I just say this out loud?"[X]because your normal Bucky. A lot of people feel that way, we shouldn't have to but it's not weird to! (Mini soap box)

"He’d found not one, but two, families in his long lifetime. People he cared about not because he had to, not because they shared any blood ties, but because they had come into his life when he felt like he had nothing else, and made it better."[X]the importance of any type of family!

"Steve quirked an eyebrow, putting his hands on his hips in his best ‘Captain America does not approve of your sass’ pose."[ch1]reminds me of doing the same with my boyfriend. "It’s just- I know it doesn’t look like much but we found it together. Yeah, it’s kind of old and beat up, and it’s little and broken but it’s still good. Yeah, still good."[ch2]yes, that probably does sound familiar! Disney!

"The Moon is a protector, Bucky. He’s bruised." Steve gives his fingers a squeeze, remembering a similar look on Peggy’s face once upon a time, when he stood in front of her with a broken transponder in his hand. “When I found someone worth flirting with."[X]awww, smile

"not his tiny blond ball of fury (whom he now remembers is a large blond ball of righteous fury),"[post]from the linked post, inspired this fic

"[Being surly to Captain America] It's like being nasty to Superman. He could do it, but he'd just feel like shit afterwards. It's not an experience he's eager to repeat."[X]amusing, means he's done that before...

""Yes, Pepper," they chorus like the good little schoolboys they might have been, once upon a time"[X]lol

"The next time he visited the pediatric ward at New York-Presbyterian, he brought a ton of socks and some puffy paint, so the kids could paint their own. The project was a hit with parents and internet knitters alike."[X]awww!! "Avengers Stitch and Bitch. "[X]comments

"he still has bad days where he sits in the dark by himself because the thought of being around anyone--even Steve--is like jackhammers in his skull and shattered glass under his skin. "[X]not nearly that bad for me, but I kinda get that "refrigerator with a magnet that looks like his shield."[X]cute. Near the end.

"the one who doesn't laugh as much or as loud as he used to, but whose eyes still crinkle in genuine humor at stupid puns and in wonder at some of the marvels of this modern age."[X]quiet emotion, not a lack of sense of humor

"This whole talking about our feelings like adults thing is hard. It made me hungry again. Didn't it make you hungry again?"[X]amusing, don't love the pairing 'cause I only know one of them and I really like him with Steve - though I've liked others

"he doesn't have anything left but a broken heart and some sourdough starter"[X]I've now seen a fair amount of Great British Baking Show " (Sure, the therapy sessions and the anti-anxiety drugs are helping too, but Steve's always been a big believer in the efficacy of hard work and good food for making a person feel better after their world's been turned upside down, and the bakery provides both in spades.)"[X]any combination of methods that helps

"You're going out with Barton. What makes you think you're in any way qualified to give me relationship advice?"[X]amusing deflection banter

"Bucky, you've always needed Steve and me to see the light in you, because you could never see it in yourself. That hasn't changed."[X]Peggy bring the truth...

"Hey! It’s dumb heroic shit. I don’t do stupid, unless there’s a reason for it."[X]yup, sounds like him "Barnes and Rogers, Brooklyn’s own troublemakers."[X]again, yup

"Never felt right pursing any selfish whims when there was so much injustice in the world, so many wrongs begging to be righted."[X]Bucky. Pirate AU. I really like the art - which is how I found it

"Steve gets to sleep in the middle and Clark and Buck equally love and fear his toes. His body radiates heat, but his damn toes are always cold and what the shit??? He’s so warm and yet?? Why just the toes?!"[X]Tumblr head cannon for Steve, Bucky and Clark Kent. I know cold toes!

"He does [sex] more for the happiness and emotional connectivity and that natural high of pleasing the ones he loves the most."[X]Tumblr head cannon for Steve, Bucky and Clark Kent.

"He’d never even told her he was pansexual (he figured he wasn’t bi because that could potentially discount aliens and since humans are technically “not him” he figured pan made sense). He’s spent a lot of time in the shower thinking about his sexual identity to be honest."[X]again the wibtersupercap head cannons. Lol. Even if the rest isn't really my thing at all

"Sex is so very complicated to him. He wants it, he doesn’t want it. It feels good…he’s never in the mood. He wants physical contact…he doesn’t want that much…but yeah sometimes he does? He’s all very confused about himself. "[X]MORE head cannon stuff. Almost done, over halfway. Even not identifying as ace I get this. Relatable, personal .

"Kal could totally be an indicator of “Hey I need attention, love me plz.” "[X]more head cannon stuff, almost done.

"They feel alone in the world, walking beside people who don’t really belong to them but are there all the same."[X]they being Steve Rogers and Clark Kent - so on point!

"I have all this pent up emotion and nowhere to put it, and my boys are beautifully conveying and taking out their motions while I put my fist through the bathroom mirror."[X]ahhh.

"Steve's stomach gurgles noisily and Bucky laughs. "If I could move right now, I'd make you pancakes, but it's going to have to wait until morning.""[X]sex burns calories

"alfred ['s Tumblr]: guns and sometimes miniature cakes"[X]comments

"He wants to live on steamed dumplings from now on."[X]I'm with you Barnes, they are good! "He wakes up early in the morning blanketed by the full-size chest of Captain America. Talk about purple mountains' majesty."[X]lol

"Steve sleeps in the day when he isn’t out and then he’s up all night, up all night long, finding something to do, jogging, TV, sitting at the window, all night, all night."[X]yeah, depression

"Steve hops up on the washing machine, swinging his legs – they’re only a couple scant inches off the ground, but he likes doing it"[X]relatable

"the tired face of Bruce Banner overlayed with that of the Hulk"[X: story 2]imagery. Draw. "Steve from Brooklyn was still there since Bucky could see him. He didn't need any other assurance."[X: story 3]comments

"well, i say bopped–it was the sort of wild swing you take with a frypan when someone startles you in the kitchen."[X]hilarious

"led by the bastard child of paul bunyan and lady liberty"[X]what a way to describe Captain America

"Okay, guys, fair warning, this is gonna get pretty meta pretty fast. Because you know that I love Cap-spotting as much as the next person, and this comm is literally one of the most uplifting places on the internet right now, because it’s first and foremost about human connection and how heroes really are just like us, and they go out to get Chipotle or whatever, and we desperately need that in this shit show that’s called our lives, especially after what happened in NYC."[ch1]okay, this makes sense, though privacy should also be a thing... Maybe there's not pictures? Then the continuation! "[stan the smithsonian guard] also got a photo out of this, and the opportunity to tell cap that his older brother fought in the 107th during the war and knew bucky barnes. cap apparently got a little choked up. can’t blame him."[ch3]poor guard on duty when Cap took back his uniform... Stan even gets cameos in fics "and i heard pepper potts might have implied a thing or two right after it turned out bucky was alive, and even the paps are scared shitless of that woman. AS THEY VERY WELL SHOULD BE."[ch3]oh the things that could get done if Peggy and Pepper were in the same time! "Other auctioned “items” include a self-defense lesson with Natasha Romanoff, archery practice with Clint Barton and Kate Bishop, and a day in a lab with Tony Stark, and they will all be donated by the happy winners to the beneficiaries of the Youth Program at the Potts Foundation."[ch3]YEEEEES! "And it was nice to see that you can come back from something like this, maybe not whole, but at least not completely shattered, you know. Reassuring. "[ch3]motivational "We don’t want Captain America, the hero who’s supposed to represent the majority of Americans, to be someone we can’t identify with at all because of the lifestyle he chooses."[ch3]a haters comment. Me: so the majority of Americans can't relate to following one's heart toward happiness?!

"It’s been nice to have people around him he can indulge skin hunger with as much as his libido."[X]a friwnds Tumblr. I'm not sure (or maybe I just don't have the energy to analyse it) why this quote stood out to me...

"Sure, he didn't need glasses, and sure, they were practically useless, but they were badass. Plus they made the world look purple"[X]not overall relevant but a cute warming read "Natasha winds up throwing Clint down the garbage chute and if that's not some kind of metaphor for Clint's life he doesn't know what is."[X]lol!

"Put on one of these obnoxious Christmas monstrosities that Tony has decided to inflict on us and get up to the main floor, because when I say that Santa has been, man has he been."[X]comments "Nope, it’s 9am. That is not too early. It’s Christmas, stop being such a Russian humbug and get up."[X]little 3+1 Christmas fic

[rangerlake]

Journal Entry - Apprentice Training

Here is the best way that I can describe magic.  It is like a dance. There are so many ways to do it.  A person can use awkward harsh jerky movements, but it’s still dance.  There are ballet dancers, who have amazing strength that is masked by an easy looking elegance.  It is mapped out and dancers employ a series of steps from a set of basic ones. Then there is modern dance, not quite the power of ballet, but it is exciting, dynamic, and lends itself so well to improvisation.  These are just two types of dance amongst the many, and no matter how much they differ, they still convey a sense of rhythmic movement. So dance.

I thought about this as we drove out to site that required reconnaissance , maybe more.  If I had to pick, I’d say my teacher was trained in ballet, but once on his own had moved towards the modern dance methods and embraced the freedom of it all.  I think I fall more into the tai chi, which has strength, precision, and control, but few allowances for variation.  That takes a lot of work in the best of conditions. Trying to learn this while on the move, in between battles, not getting enough sleep, or food, highly stressed, well, all of that makes learning to fight fell Sisyphean .

It was a cold, rainy early October afternoon when I followed my teacher on the trail of two Fomor Servitors.  This was set up was a point of contention between Carlos and Council.  He felt that I should be left somewhere safe and the Council felt that it was just fine for me to tag along into combat since I wasn’t a kid.  Personally, I agreed with my boss, not the Council.  But you’ve got to respect the chain of command.

The chill in the area was unusual for the Pacific Northwest at this time of year, particularly in the forest.  What should have just been wet was in fact wet and icy. Our breath created little fog clouds. But, the cold did make tracking easier. Footprints were crisp and easy to find.  The Fomorian beings hadn’t gone too far, about 5 miles in from the blink and you miss Forest Service road pull off. To call it a trail head would be generous.  

We slowed as the footprints became more crisp.  Ahead was a clearing that contained an old mill, one of many buildings leftover from the time before national forests.  It sat along the river.  Great, old lumber mill, the building looked creepy and I was willing to bet that there was all sort of sharp stuff hanging from the ceiling.  Pretty much the stuff of horror movie.  And we knew there were at least two monsters inside. We settled down outside the clearing, using the trees and brush as cover, hoping to discover if there were more than the two we’d tracked. After an hour of wet, cold, and muscle cramps, nothing had shown itself.

I don’t think this was how my teacher usually does things, he strikes me as a limited recon then kick the doors in, weapons blazing type. I’m not sure if the change was a newly found appreciation of field prep work, or a desire not to be one of those wizards who got their apprentice killed, or worse. That sort of sucks, I’m not the most natural fighter, but I like to think I’m not hindering his ability to do his job.  But I could be wrong, this could be his style.

While sitting in the brush, I closed my eyes and reached out with my senses, along with a bit of magic.  This area was devoid of the life that had filled most of the path we’d taken to get here.  Gone were the birds, the animals, even the insects.  Rafters in the mill held nests abandoned by their makers with no new takers in what should be prime critter real estate. Clearing my mind of the questions that came from this realization, I touched my thumb and two fingers to the ground beside me. Slowly, my spell ran out into the ground around me in slow, continuous waves.  I could feel the shape of everything in the ground, the touch of the building walls, the foot steps of the beings inside.  The palm of my other hand lay flat on the earth, the reception piece of my earth sonar.  This skill had taken so much time to master. I had to hold a memory in my head of all of the readings, creating a map of what was there, where it was moving in between each wave of energy.

There were two things moving.  But there was also other things that exerted a similar profile or weight in the ground.  It could have been chairs, I still have a hard distinguishing that sort of thing.  Quickly, I drew out a rough sketch of the lay in the dirt, trying to capture what I’d felt. Opening my eyes, I saw him looking intently at me. ‘2, maybe 4′ I gestured.  We both looked back towards the building, which was the best endorsement I’d ever seen for a tetanus shot.  The Foromoians and their servitors are strong, fierce fighters.  This would be a hard fight even with the surprise advantage.  He pondered the building again for a moment, then gave a ‘what the hell, let’s go’ shrug, so we moved forward quietly.  Despite being cold and crampy, it was impossible to ignore the feeling of frisson in my stomach as we moved towards a fight.  Nearing the entrance, he held one hand, signaling me to stay in back of him as we entered.

No sooner had he’d broken the plane of the entrance, a blur of motion came slamming into me.  My shield bracelets activated, taking the brunt of the first. Then they took some more from the tree that kindly stopped my airborne progress. It was after 10 feet of his movement towards me that I realized I didn’t recognize him.  Shit, so at least 3 of them, hopefully not four. Reaching out my hand, I fiercely whispered “cré leacthtach”, focusing on on a section of earth in front of me, about 2 by 1 meters large. The ground rippled minimally, but that was enough, the ground was now like a liquid, unable to support the weight of the man thing running towards me. Definitely more thing than man, they are disgusting to look at. Tall, but built like a fire plug. Puffs of steamy breath billowed from both his face and from the side of the turtleneck he wore. As confident as I was about my spell, I scurried backwards, no harm in increasing the distance between us.

He hit the section of dirt and plunged in up to his arm pits.  Only one arm was in the soil, but I’d take. “Cré soladach!” I yelled, pouring energy towards his location. He screamed, a horrible sound, as the dirt went from liquid to solid in a heart beat.  He struggled, causing the earth to crack around him. Shit, that hadn’t happened before, my heart felt like it plunged into my stomach.  I pulled out my gun, took aim, and was hit by a painful punch in my shoulder.  I remember thinking in a very detached way that ‘huh, I think I’ve been shot’. My shield took most of the force. But not all of it. It was tempting to shoot the servitor digging his way out, but I needed to get behind some cover, fast.