#I’m watching mystery incorporated again if you couldn’t tell

[hourglass-full-of-stars]

I actually don’t think scooby doos should have any adult remakes, it’s a show about 5 kids solving mysteries and sometimes there can be an evil entity, I don’t want one that makes sense, was scooby doo mystery incorporated not insane enough for you people. stop remaking things and make your OWN things. coward.

[mandareeboo]

Unfinished Work #49: “Collective”

This here’s just a collection of the couple of SDMI fanfics I wrote back in the day. They’re almost all Velma or Cassidy Williams-related, and they aren’t GOOD or anything (they’re, god, like four years old?) but it’s nice to have them in one place.

Daphne was bored. Not just bored, but Bored. Climb the walls and scream and shout bored.

If she were honest with herself, she'd been bored for almost two weeks now. There wasn't anything the least bit stimulating about her home or her parents, as much as they tried, and Daphne had been forced to accompany them around Crystal Cove in an attempt to 'help her see the light.'

She repeated; bored.

No action, no mysteries, nothing that kept her busy into the odd hours of the night thinking (she refused to think about that night, however. Fred's abrupt goodbye, Velma's betrayal, Shaggy pleading not to be taken away, Scooby being led away on a leash; he hated leashes. She just... couldn't go there.) Nothing the least bit thought provoking, and her brain cells were quickly turning to jello.

Her parents idea of excitement was golf. Her idea of excitement consisted of high speed chases, the smell of old and mysterious books, the fun days at the mall, getting her ex-best friend to try and be a little girly.

You know, the average teenage idea of fun.

And so, watching her father whack a golf ball far over the hole, Daphne was once again reminded of the fact that, to her parents, she was anything but a normal teenager.

Daphne sighed. So bored. She was almost ready to pull out her phone and resort to meaningless texting when she remembered that she didn't have anyone she could text, nor did she have her phone on her.

Stupid way-too-short battery life. If things kept up, she would have to get a job and save up for a new one.

(She could always ask her parents for a new one, true, but there was something so... callous about raiding her father's vault for personal reasons, especially since her mother always gave her almost triple what she needed.)

Her parents were boring. Daphne had long accepted that. But still, she didn't like the personal refresher of how boring they could be.

"Hey."

Daphne jumped, watching in mild awe as Velma sat down next to her at the round table. "How did you get in here?"

Velma fixed her a dry look, and suddenly Daphne was highly aware of the fact that her friend was both extremely fit for a girl her age and extremely smart. Sneaking in, and, in turn, sneaking out, would be a breeze. "Oh."

"Oh indeed." She shrugged and took a drink from her soda. They'd always shared things like drinks, so it didn't really irritate her like it probably should. It was a habit, not a conscious decision. She calmly set the plastic bottle down and eyed the duo playing golf. "Bored?"

"How could you tell?" Daphne answered, rolling her eyes at her parent's antics. "Velma?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I noticed you looked like you could use some entertainment. What better entertainment is there than a good ol' fashioned yelling match?"

"I'm not going to yell at you, Velma."

"Good. My ears thank you."

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This one was fun! It was going to be a double thing- Velma and Daphne meeting up during their split, but also a test by Mr. E to see how willing Velma is to get her hands dirty. The golf course was gonna blow up.

———————————————————————————————————-

Be sassy, Angel reminded herself. Sassy, but not stupid.

Setting the last moving box down on top of the stack, she took a moment to make sure everything was aligned before stepping back, putting a hand to her chin.

Right. So she had a name, a character, and a job description. Now all she needed was a hook.

"They'll come to you." Ricky had said.

Well, Angel doubted the truth to those words. Angel Dynamite wasn't exactly Mystery Incorporated friend material.

....But neither was Cassidy Williams, now that she thought about it.

Oh well, it wouldn't hurt her to try. If it didn't work out, then she could always watch over them from above. Being a DJ had its perks, after all.

Angel flicked the light off, closed the door, and went upstairs to sleep.

----------

Her second morning in Crystal Cove, Angel opened the door to her studio, took two steps inside, and almost had a heart attack.

"What the-" She felt the urge to grab the specially sharpened CD's from her back pocket and toss them, preferably aiming for the neck or head, but held off.

The glasses-girl glanced up from her book dryly. "So not my idea." Was all she said.

That was more than enough.

Angel blinked. "Alright then, who's was it?"

"Fred's." She pointed at the blond currently snoring in the corner, hugging what looked to be an old speaker like it was a teddy bear. "He thought it was safe in here. Didn't know it locked from the outside automatically. Sorry."

Sassy, but smart. Don't try to intimidate them. "Hey, as long as you don't try to steal nothin', it's cool."

The girl shrugged and muttered a muffled thanks as she stood up and kicked the brunnette's shin.

He jumped up, blinking away sleep. "Huh?"

"Help is here, and we're not in trouble. Help me wake up the others."

Soon there was a whole pod of disgruntled teen's shuffling their feet nervously and staring at the floor.

"Uh, like, thanks. For, uh... Not getting mad."

Angel shrugged. "I don't see why I should be mad. Confused, definitely, but not mad."

The one named Fred (who Angel could clearly tell he took after his father in physical physique) piped up. "Do you have a shower we could use?"

Once again that day Angel found herself blinking. "Yeah, upstairs. Why?"

Glasses gave her a dry look. "You know, for this?" She gestured to her clothing.

Oh, right. They'd just spent the night in a foreign place with no clue who would find them or in what state. Angel knew the feeling; wanting to get the grunge off. "Sure, it's open. Take your time."

"And a washer?" The red-head almost looked... unsure. "To see if we can get the smell out."

Get the smell out? What did that- oh. This wasn't about staying the night under a stranger's roof. Someone must've dumped something- oh.

It was times like these Angel remembered just how thankful she was that her nose was useless.

"Yeah, I got those too. And some extra clothes. Just gotta warn ya', though. They're in my style."

No one complained as she grabbed some clothes from her dresser and handed them over. "Just leave the dirty ones outside the door." She called after the retreating blonde.

———————————————————————————————————-

I remember basically nothing about this one! Take it as face value

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"Cassidy."

Angel grunted, eyelids squeezing more tightly shut. That voice could go away any time now, seriously.

"Cassidy."

Her dream shifted. She was in a dark living room, hands shoved into hoodie pockets, watching the news. The hoodie was something Ricky had dug up, and it went well beyond her waist.

All she could do was watch as her mother flitted across the news channel, crying; "Cassidy, oh, Cassidy, come home. Bring my daughter home."

Suddenly, Angel wanted to wake up. As soon as possible, preferably.

"Angel!"

Angel shot up from her desk like a rocket. Glancing around the room, her heart rate fell and her breathing slowly returned to normal as she glared at the intruder.

"Velma? Lordy girl, are you trying to kill me?"

Velma just held out a greasy fast-food bag, an eyebrow raised. "You're welcome."

Angel's face scrunched up, but she took the bag anyway. "Let me guess. This was Shaggy's idea?"

"Fred's, actually. Once we talked him out of building a 'cheer-up' trap."

She slowly shook her head. "That boys got a screw loose."

Velma shook her head in turn. "No, just a funny way of showing affection."

"Hmm, I'll take your word for it." Angel unrolled the top of the bag and pulled out a burger with everything on it. She hated most condiments, but had long given up on complaining about it. It was food, she was hungry, she could deal. "Why do they think I need food, exactly?"

"You've been out of it lately. They're worried you're not getting enough sleep. Which you aren't."

No, she wasn't. But they were the only kids who were nosy enough to realize it. "I've had a lot on my mind." Was her vague answer, because, despite the obvious unoriginality, it was one hundred percent true. To much on her mind, if you asked her.

"Are you alright?"

No, she wasn't. She was scared and worried and carrying more than a few scars, mentally and physically, old and new, and the others were starting to see them. See the things she'd done her best to hide from them.

Angel shrugged. "I've had worse."

"Is that so?" Velma watched her take a bite of her burger, waiting until she was halfway through the meat and buns before saying; "Cassidy."

Angel almost choked. She pounded on her chest with a grimace and forced herself to swallow the bite half-chewed. "Now I know you're tryin' to kill me." She turned to her with a glare. "What was that all about?"

Velma shrugged, looking entirely to unattached and clinical for Angel's liking. "Just... testing a theory."

"A theory involving me choking to death?"

"No, and theory involving names. Specifically, the ones given to you at birth."

Angel took another bite of burger and tried not to look to interested. The nerdy side was still strong within her, and so much as the mention of theories and hypothesis' was usually enough to make her turn her head, if only for a minute. "And I'm your test subject... why?"

"Because you're the only person I know personally that has a chosen name they use regularly besides Shaggy, and calling him Norville is weird. And you like stuff like this, or so I thought."

Angel wasn't denying it. Velma leaned against the wall.

"When most people are called by their given name, they respond. Even if they've changed it. It's an ingrained habit. But you? You didn't even respond. You retrained yourself."

Angel shrugged. "Been a long time since anybody's called me that, Velma-"

———————————————————————————————————-

Another I barely recall! I think it was something about Velma trying to bond with Angel.

———————————————————————————————————-

Well, things could be worse.

The Freak was after the kids, she was locked in a sound room, quite possibly left for dead- no one ever visited the studio besides the kids. It was paid for and everything. It could days before someone went looking, maybe even weeks- and her secret had been blown sky high.

And, worst of all, they didn't believe a word she'd said.

Well, things couldn't be worse.

Angel wasn't all that afraid of The Freak, honestly. Not like she used to be. But she wouldn't really be able to watch over the kids like she normally would if they had to escape Crystal Cove forever, and Ricky- curse him- would never let a chance like that go. Or, perhaps, Periclies would get them. She honestly didn't care which; it was the killing part that was getting to her.

Darned meddling kids need to learn to take a hint, Angel thought, pacing the room for what felt like (and could quite possibly have been) the millionth time. Of course, that would require them getting their noses out of everyone else's business long enough to realize just how much danger they were putting themselves in.

Alright, that was pretty rude. Which was weird, because she normally had better control over herself.

It was the whole 'locked in' part getting to her. She... didn't like being confined, is all. She personally considered it a nervous twitch, but, hey, if you wanted to call it a phobia, it was your life and your tongue at stake. Let nothing but fear, common sense, and a well-practiced glare stop you.

The front door creaked open, and Angel dived under the table. Just great. Ricky must've decided to waltz into her studio uninvited and demand to know what went wrong.

Whatever. If it was a choice between Ricky and death, then Angel chose death. At moments like these, her pride was all she had left.

The sound room door creaked open. "Angel? I know you're in here."

Velma.

Well then. Forget all that pride and death stuff, then, 'cause she had a chance!"

"Velma?" She was on her feet in less than a second. She doubted Velma had even had the time to determine which speaker she'd been pitifully hiding behind before her hands were on her shoulders. "Are you okay? Did her hurt you? Let me-"

"Angel."

Her voice was ice cold. Angel immediately let go. "Right. Sorry. Got carried away with the moment. He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Velma sighed and shook her head. Angel couldn't help but notice that her eyes were red.

Velma, crying? Angel hadn't thought the two words mixed. Not in public, at least.

"I, uh, I thought you'd like to hear from the source instead of the news." She paused. "And to be let out of the sound room. Seriously, how were you going to get out of there?"

"Mr. E's goons would've noticed I was missing eventually." Lies. Angel hated lying to them, to the kids, but that's all she really was now-a-days. A big, ugly lie. "Or I could've made a mini-explosive, if need be."

"Wouldn't that destroy your building?" Another pause. "And draw too much attention to yourself?"

"The cat's already out of the bag." She shrugged. "Now all I can do is just roll with punches."

Velma didn't answer. Angel didn't expect her to. "We caught him, you know."

A cold weight settled in her stomach. The part of her mind that was still that teenager that ran away from home, that was still Cassidy Williams, muttered things about curses and fleeing and being afraid, but the older, more logical part of her mind, beat it down. The part of her mind that was mostly Angel Dynamite. "The Freak?" He's catchable?

As though she could read her mind, Velma snorted. "Of course. He was just another guy in a suit, like everyone else."

"W-Who?" Part of her doesn't want to know. Another, bigger part of her wants to believe that this is all a dream, that The Freak was still some unbeatable monster and she had somehow sunken into a hunger-driven hallucination and was slowly dying behind that speaker.

Velma fiddled with her fingers. She looked as disbelieving as Angel felt. "The mayor. Ex-mayor. Fred's dad. Er, ex-dad."

Angel was speechless.

Lord above, how many times had she been near that man over the years? How many times had she watched his speeches on the TV, blissfully unaware of his involvement in her 'disappearance'?

How many times had they spoken to each other? Had he even realized it was her, the girl he'd chased out of town like she was trash? Had her entire cover been see-through from the beginning; the only reason she'd been allowed to stay was that he was smug in the knowledge he'd bested her?

"Angel? Angel, sit down. You look like you're gonna faint."

"I feel like I'm going to faint." Her voice sounded as old as she felt as she sat down on the couch. Velma hesitantly joined her on the other side. "All this time the truth was right there. All I had to do was think, and... man. I'm so stupid. Fred Senior was the only guy we told..." Told about the disk. Told how they weren't just the outcasts of Crystal Cove, how if they played their cards right, they would be the richest outcasts in history.

Told... Told...

He was the only one they told everything.

Velma watched her with curious eyes. "Told what?"

Angel ignored her, glancing up to look at her as another thing clicked. "How's Freddy?"

Velma looked torn. She shrugged. "Dunno." She paused, almost unsure. "Angel, did you know that Brad Chiles and Judy Reeves are Fred's real parents?"

Of course she did. She'd been there when Judy had given birth to him, been the one she cursed and beat as she writhed in agony (giving birth au natural in a small house in the middle of nowhere wasn't something she wished on anyone, even Judy), and again when they lost him.

But telling her that would be admitting to having something to do with Fred's not so happy upbringing, even if it were in the smallest of ways. Angel was hated enough as it was; she wasn't going to add to it.

"I had a guess, but nothing concrete. How's Freddy taking the news?"

"He isn't." Velma crossed her arms. "No one is. No one but you, that is."

"Oh. And, before you ask, no, I didn't have anything to do with it. I... just had a feeling, that's all."

Not a total lie, but not the complete truth, either. Not too shabby, as far as she was concerned. Normally people didn't even get that.

Velma didn't answer. "We... We split up."

That got Angel's attention. Not that the girl hadn't already had it.

"Huh?"

"You heard me. Fred's gone off on some big journey to find his parents; Dahpne's too hurt to even think about coming back; Shaggy is off to military school; and Scooby's going to some kind of farm." Velma cradled her head in her hands. "They left me."

Angel reached out to put a comforting arm around her shoulders, but Velma tensed and hissed. "Don't touch me."

Her hand was once again snatched back. Right. They weren't friends anymore. She was the bothersome traitor they wanted nothing more to do with.

Angel always knew it would end up like this, but it still hurt. She masked the pain well.

"Nah, they didn't leave you, baby doll. They left Crystal Cove."

"We're Crystal Cove. We all were."

Angel knew what she meant. Like the haunted houses and tourism, Mystery Incorporated was a part of Crystal Cove. People traveled here, far and wide, to see them to solve mysteries just as they came to see the town fall into supernatural havoc. Hated though they may be, there wouldn't be nearly as many tourists without them.

Leaving Crystal Cove meant leaving the gang. Or, in this case, the gang leaving Velma.

"But now they're gone. And now what?" Velma lifted her head out of her arms and thrust them outwards, elbows bent downwards.  "We'll just fall apart like you did?"

Angel winced. Now that was a touchy subject. Could Velma had planted a sharper barb into her side?

...Probably, now that she thought about it. The girl was pretty smart.

"You kids are a lot better than we were. Better than we are today, even. Things'll work out, just give 'em time." Angel wanted to put a hand on her shoulder, hug her, something to make her feel better, but held off. Velma wasn't the touchy-feely type to begin with. It was best not to make things even more awkward.

"An-" She shook her head. "Cassidy."

"What is it?"

"Did you... Did you try to give them time?"

"I did, but I gave them too much time. A couple of months to a year is one thing, Velma. Five to ten years is another."

"I guess I understand." She shrugged halfheartidly. "Cassidy?"

"What?"

"Why don't you go by Cassidy anymore?"

"Paranoia, mostly. Ricky never would've thought that someone with such an obviously fake name would be me."

Velma nodded, but didn't look all that convinced. "But that's not all there is to it, right?"

Angel sighed and shook her head. "Cassidy Williams... That name carries a certain kind of weight around here. The same with Ricky Owens and Judy Reeves and Brad Chiles. They hear that old name and think of a nerd who kept her hair in pigtails and used her lack of smell to dig around in trash bins and such to find clues to mysteries."

———————————————————————————————————-

This was set sometime during that season finale, after Cassidy got locked in her recording room.

———————————————————————————————————-

[badassbuchanan]

After Hours - Part 2

Warnings: smut; swearing, handjob, pussy rubbing, unprotected sex, rough, dirty talk, choking, hair pulling, jealously, mentions of daddy kink, angst.

Word Count: 4522

Part 1

A/N: just want to say a big thank you to every single one of you for all the support and love - it honestly makes my day when I read your lovely comments about how much you enjoy reading these! x

I skipped down the classily decorated corridor in my 5 inch Jimmy Choos, hugging a stack of files close to my body.

I could see Ransom, sitting on his PA’s desk as the two of them flirted like no one was watching through the completely transparent wall made of glass.

I flicked my hair over my shoulder before grabbing the icy cold metal handle. Ransom immediately arose from his position after his head had turned to watch me walk through the door.

He stared for a moment too long, admiring the way my shorter-than-usual skirt sat on my hips. I would never in a million years have worn something this short to work, but Y/F/N had begged me to meet her at a bar straight after work and it was already quarter to 5.

I watched his hands dig into the pockets of his jeans before I turned my attention to his irritated looking personal assistant. Something about seeing him flirt with someone else after what we’d done last week in his office ignited a fire of jealously inside of me which I couldn’t explain.

“Miss Y/L/N.” Ransom fronted professionally, a slight smirk playing on his lips as his eyes travelled slowly up and down my body.

“Y/N, you don’t have an appointment booked and Mr Drysdale was just about to leave for the day.” Julie snapped, causing me to bite the inside of my cheek with annoyance. She was obviously upset that I’d interrupted their flirting.

“Well then I’ll make an appointment for tomorrow.” I smiled sarcastically, feeling Ransom’s gaze continue to burn into me as I walked over to her desk.

“No need,” Ransom interrupted with a slight cough, his fingers absentmindedly tracing a pattern on the corner of the desk. “I’m free now.”

“Good,” I tried to stay professional, but my heart skipped a beat as I looked up into his piercing blue eyes. “Now works for me.”

Ransom spun on his heels to follow me as I silently made my way through the big wooden door of his office.

I heard the door shut after him as I immediately spread the files over his desk, organising them the best I could.

“It’s only Thursday, Y/N.” Ransom mumbled in a husky voice from behind me. I smiled shyly, moving my head slightly to the side as he came towards me. “I thought you said you wouldn’t have them finished until tomorrow.”

“No, Mr Drysdale-“

“Ransom.” He cut me off, reminding me of his preferred name.

“Ransom.” I corrected myself, tapping my fingers into the edge of the desk. “I said I’d have them done by Friday. But I like to impress, so I finished them a day early.”

“Well, I’m impressed.” Ransom’s hot breath against my ear made me jump slightly as his body pressed against my back. The feeling I’d missed so much. The feeling I’d touched myself at the thought of every night.

Since Ransom had fucked me in his office, something had switched inside of me. It was like he’d awoke some kind of need that wasn’t there before. A need that only he could satisfy.

“You haven’t even looked inside yet.” The playful remark left my lips as I made a show of leaning over his desk to reach for a pen, my ass grinding backward into his crotch testingly.

Ransom’s hands immediately flew up to squeeze my hips, a slight grunt escaping his mouth. I felt my pussy start to ache as his hardening cock rubbed against my ass.

“Why don’t you show me then.” Ransom breathed out shakily, unexpectedly walking around to stand more beside than behind me. His left hand rested on the table to steady him.

“Well, I used all of the original drafts you gave me to collate these more interesting plots.” I spoke professionally, picking up one of the manilla files I’d prepared to prove my point.

Ransom’s eyes scanned the documents after grabbing it from my hand, nodding interestedly as his brows furrowed with concentration.

“I think you’ll find these more interesting because-“ I gasped softly, feeling his right hand slide under my skirt from behind as he pushed between my legs and started to rub my pussy over my panties.

I bit my lip, closing my eyes as I tried to reclaim my balance. I immediately felt my pussy dripping in arousal at the hard massage his fingers were providing.

Ransom acted like nothing was happening, pushing his fingers harder against my pussy in circles as he watched me with a straight face. “Because what?”

“Well, because. I - Um.” I stumbled over my words, gasping in pleasure as the dampness of my panties started spreading down to his fingers. “Because I found a way to incorporate a fresh take on storytelling with the classic ‘whodunnit’ style of authors such as Agatha Christie.”

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow cockily, pushing his body against my side as he watched me lose control. “How so?”

“The - the um.” I breathed our shakily, letting the file drop on to the table as I steadied myself on my hands. Ransom pushed his fingers against my panties harder, the sound of my wetness filling the room as he moved his hand in circular motions. “the paragraphs I’ve highlited in pink apply the fundamental basics of a good mystery novel. If we incorporate those with the modern day and even futuristic elements highlighted in green, we get something unique that people can really get behind.” I finished the sentence seconds before a loud moan escapes my lips from the pleasure.

“Speaking of which,” Ransom smirked, turning his body to lean his ass against the desk before adjusting me so I was standing directly in front of him. He pulled me forward so that I straddled him, my front rubbing against his crotch as he continued massaging my pussy from behind. “Try not to be too loud, okay?”

I felt his warm breath against my skin, his lips millimetres away from mine as I reached my hand up to cup his face. “Ransom.” I whimpered his name, admiring him through hooded eyes.

“That’s it,” Ransom grunted out in encouragement, his throbbing cock nudging against my clit through his pants. “Cum all over my fingers, baby.”

The pet name drove me wild. Last time this happened, not a single word was exchanged. But now, Ransom was all mouth. and fingers. And it was making me horny.

I moaned his name again, my lips nudged against his as I bucked my hips. My fingers dug into the back of his head, clinging on to him desperately as I lost control, feeling my orgasm already taking over.

“Shhh, good girl.” He whispered as I rode his fingers, trying to recover from my euphoric high. “Did that make you feel good? My hand rubbing that little pussy of yours?”

His dirty mouth was only making me wetter and more desperate for him. “Yes, Oh. Yes.” I whimpered my response as he continued rubbing my sensitive pussy. My eyes closed in pleasure as I held onto his tightly, my head dropping forward weakly.

“Look at you,” Ransom chuckled deviously, amused as I withered against him at the overstimulation. “So responsive.”

I reached my hand that wasn’t in his hair down to press against his bulge, gasping at the wetness covering his crotch. Both of our eyes were drawn to where my hand was on him.

Ransom smirked, scoffing at the sight before leaning forward to gently nudge my lips with his. “You made a bit of a mess.”

“I’m sorry Ransom, you just made me so wet.” I whimpered submissively, finding myself wanting to give him everything before he even asked. I felt weak and small and reliant on Ransom to look after me.

“Don’t ever apologise for how horny you are, not to me.” Ransom lifted his hand that was on my panties up to trace my lips with his thumb.

I obediently parted my lips, Ransom’s eyes darkened with desire as he gently pressed the pad of his thumb against my tongue.

I kept my eyes focused on his, moving my hand up to hold his wrist as I suck on his thumb. I let my tongue swirl around his digit as though it was his cock, something that in the moment connected us in a way that neither of us understood.

Ransom’s jaw clenched as he watched me sloppily soak his thumb with my spit, some of it dripping out of my mouth on to my lips.

“Listen to me,” Ransom caught my attention with his words, causing me to loosen my suction on his thumb. He took it from my mouth, running it carelessly over my lower stomach before hooking it into my slightly exposed panties from where my skirt had ridden up. “I’m gunna shove my cock in you, okay? You took it so well for me last time.”

I nodded a response with a whimper before looking down at where his thumb was pressing circles against my throbbing clit, still sensitive from my orgasm. Ransom’s eyes fixated on it too, a smirk on his face as he watched me submitting to him.

I grabbed hold of his strong bicep with one hand to balance myself, feeling my legs begin to wobble as a dirty thought crossed my mind. “Bend me over your desk.”

Ransom smirked, both shocked and impressed by my request. “That how you like it, hm?” He licked his lips teasingly, running his spare hand down my bare thigh.

“I want you to fuck me really hard, Ransom.” I whispered innocently, looking up into his ocean blue eyes, unknowingly playing right into his deepest fantasies. He rubbed my clit so hard my body was moving with each circle of his thumb. “I want to feel your fingers around my throat.”

Ransom grunted in frustration, keeping eye contact with me as I spoke. Atta girl, tell me what you want.” He moved his hand from my thigh to his pants, skilfully undoing his the buckle of his leather belt.

Once he’d managed to unzip his trousers, Ransom shoved his hand down his pants, tugging his cock out to fuck it with his hand.

“I want to be naked when you fuck me.” I whispered against his lips seductively, moving my hands up to unbutton my blouse. “I want you to hurt me.”

Ransom groaned with his eyebrows furrowed, pumping his cock in his hand as his jaw went slack. Ransom’s hand stopped rubbing my clit and tugged on the soft material of my blouse, his eyes dropping to admire my boobs covered by a baby pink lacy bralette. 

“Fuck,” Ransom whispered huskily as I let my shirt pool around my elbows before dropping it to the ground. He suddenly grabbed my neck roughly, catching me by surprise as he tugged me toward his face. “You look so pretty for me, baby.” He groaned, resting his face in my neck as he leaves sloppy kisses on my skin.

I whimpered at the feeling of his hot lips on my body, wrapping my arms around his neck to bring him closer as I straddled him. I tilted my neck to give him more access, his hand squeezing around my throat softly.

Frustrated with my pussy still not being fucked with his cock, I decided to slide my hands down his chest before moving them back up underneath the thick material of his knitted sweater. I looked down, a satisfied smile on my lips as I ran my hand over his toned chest. “You’re so muscly.” I hummed sweetly, tracing my fingers over his abs.

Ransom stopped kissing my neck and let go of his cock for a moment, leaning back to lift his sweater over his head. He looked back at me as he smiled. “Don’t stare for too long, I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

I giggled softly, somehow a sweet moment shared in the middle of us fucking. I looked up into his blue eyes, shining brightly in the low glow of the office. My heart skipped a beat as he smiled back at me.

Without giving it a second thought I leaned in and pressed my lips against his, Immediately retreating after realising what I’d just done. “Shit, I’m sorry. I just got c-“

“It’s fine.” Ransom chuckled and cupped my cheek, pulling me back in for another kiss.

His lips were somehow soft and rough at the same time. Ransom’s breathing slowed as we kissed, his hand moving to my lower back to pull my body closer.

I whimpered softly as our bodies met, my clit rubbing against his cock. I parted my lips slowly, which gave Ransom the opportunity to deepen the kiss as I wrapped my arms back around his neck.

My boobs rubbed against his exposed chest as he slid his hand under my ridden up skirt, squeezing my ass cheek in his palm.

“You still want me to bend you over the desk?” Ransom whispered against my lips as I rolled my hips to connect with his cock again, wetting his tip in my arousal. “Or we could go back to mine and-“

“No,” I quickly jumped in, cupping his sharp jaw with my small hand as I looked helplessly into his eyes. “I want you to fuck me now, Ransom. I need you right now. Please.”

My other hand wasted no time moving between us as I take his big cock in my hand, tracing his length with my fingers as he gasped softly. “It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m right here.” Ransom groaned, licking his lips as he hooked his fingers into my drenched panties. 

I started pumping his cock in my hand as my panties hit the floor, desperately clenching around nothing as I waited in agony for his dick to be inside me.

“Fuck.” Ransom grunted as his jaw clenched, losing himself in the feeling of my hand jerking him off.

“You’re so big.” I hummed sweetly, looking down to where my hand was on him. Ransom’s hands moved up my bare back and skilfully unhooked my bra.

“Can you take it, baby? Hm?” Ransom growled in frustration as I squeezed my hand around him. My other hand gripped the flesh of his shoulder for balance, not taking my eyes off of his throbbing member. “Can that sweet little pussy take my cock?”

“Mmh.” I nodded my response and licked my lips, taking my hands off of him to let my bra drop to the floor.

A split second was all Ransom needed to stand up, yank me forward between him and the desk and press himself against my back. His fingers expertly slid my skirt down my thighs until it hit the ground, leaving me completely naked apart from my heels.

“Is this what you imagined?” Ransom whispered in my ear as his exposed chest pressed against my bare back, causing a shiver to ripple through my body. His arm hooked around my tummy as his fingers started rubbing my sensitive clit. “When you touched yourself at night. Is this what was running through that pretty little mind of yours?”

“Yes.” I gasped out a response, pressing my ass against his cock as the front of my thighs pressed against his wooden desk.

“Me too.” He admitted as he pushed me down to bend over his desk, his body staying flush against my back as he started rubbing hard circles on my clit.

“Oh fuck.” I cried softly as my face screwed up in pleasure, bucking my hips at the feeling of his fingers on my sensitive nub. His cock pushed its way between my ass cheeks, desperate to find its way into my aching pussy.

Ransom’s breathing hitched as the tip of his cock came into contact with my pussy lips. “So soft.” He whispered breathlessly, removing his hand from my clit as he stood up straight behind me. “So warm.”

I spread my legs a little more, eager for his big cock to fuck me. “Please Ransom.” I whimpered like a slut for him, parting my lips as I turned to look over my shoulder at him. “I need to feel your cock stretching out my tight little pussy.”

Ransom took hold of his cock, looking deep into my eyes as he lined himself up with my entrance before pushing himself deep inside.

I let out a loud cry, arching my back to push my ass closer to him as my head fell to the desk.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” Ransom grunted, both hands on my hips as he pulls almost fully out before slamming back in to fill me. “You like the way it hurts when my cock stretches you out?”

With every thrust I started to get more desperate, already overstimulated by the attention his fingers. “Yes.” I whispered breathlessly.

Ransom’s hand suddenly grabbed at my hair, tugging my head back towards him roughly. I cried out, closing my eyes at the pleasure.

“Louder.” He growled, fucking into me quickly with sharp jolts of his hips. He wrapped my hair around his fist, pulling so hard that my torso rose from the table.

I moaned loudly as I rested my palms against the wood to try and balance myself as my pussy clenched around his thick cock. Sounds of us fucking filled the air as I felt myself coming to my high once more. 

“Fucking take it.” Ransom grunted aggressively, thrusting his hips with all his strength as he fucked me. “Take my cock like a good slut for me, baby.”

Daddy. Daddy was the one word that ran through my mind as he pounded into me. I’d heard people use the word before. I’d watched porn, I’d read smut where they used the word. But I’d never said it before, I’d never felt it before.

“Yes-“ I gasped softly to stop myself from saying it out loud, frightened of how Ransom would react. I didn’t want this to stop. It felt too good.

“Shit, I’m gunna cum.” Ransom moaned, taking his hand off of my hip as he tugged me up by my hair to rest my back against his chest.

“Ransom.” I moaned in response, his tip nudging against my g-spot with the new angle he was fucking me from. My legs started to shake as his fingers moved from my hair to wrap around my throat, squeezing with enough pressure to have me seeing stars.

“You gunna cum for me?” He growled from behind me, his balls slapping against my skin as he thrusted faster, chasing his high. “You gunna drench my cock with your cum?”

“Yes, Ransom, oh fu-“ I cried through choked breaths, wave after wave of orgasm hitting me as I frantically bucked my hips back against him.

Ransom grunted in my ear at the feeling of my pussy pulsing around him, his hand getting a little tighter around my throat to keep my head from falling forward.

“That’s it baby,” He soothes me through my orgasm, his voice a little sweeter than usual as I tried to recover. He continued thrusting mercilessly into me as his cock throbbed inside me. “That’s it.”

“Ransom,” I whimpered, turning my head to the side again as I felt my boobs bounce with every deep thrust of his cock. “I need your cum.”

“Yeah? You want my cum filling this sweet little pussy?” He moaned, clenching his jaw as tingles of pleasure rushed through his body. “You want to feel it flooding inside you?”

“Yes.” I cried out desperately, lifting my hand to hold onto his wrist as his fingers tightened around my throat, making it hard of me to breathe.

Ransom growled huskily as I felt his seed spilling into my wet hole. His fingers left marks on the side of my neck as he continued to thrust in and out, riding out his orgasm.

“Oh fuck.” He moaned euphorically, letting go of my throat before pushing my chest back down against the wooden desk.

I whimpered softly, feeling his cum filling my pussy as he rammed his cock deep inside me. His hands moved to my hips, pulling my ass back against him with more force as he stayed fully sheathed in my wetness.

“I’m still cumming.” He grunted, painting my walls with his cum as I started to fill it spilling out of me and running down the inside my thighs.

We both stayed there for a moment to steady our breathing before Ransom finally pulled out slowly. “Shit.” He whispered shakily as he admired the mix of our juices dripping out of my pussy.

Ransom took a step back, moving away to grab a few tissues from his coffee table. I stood up straight, turning around as he held one out to me as an offer.

Neither of us were in a rush to leave one another, but we didn’t know what else to do except get dressed.

We cleaned ourselves up and discarded the used tissues in the bin next to his desk. Ransom tucked his cock away as I shimmied my panties and skirt back up my weak legs.

We moved about in silence, the same silence as the first time we’d fucked. It was only once I’d finished buttoning my blouse back up and was trying to make my hair look presentable that he spoke.

“Come home with me, tonight.” Ransom’s eyes were focused on the back of my head as he re-buckled his belt.

I smoothed over my skirt, suddenly reminded of why I had it on in the first place. “I can’t.” I responded disappointedly, if it was any other night, I would’ve gone with him in a heartbeat. But I couldn’t cancel on Y/F/N with such little notice. She’d ask questions. Questions that I wouldn’t want to answer.

Ransom face dropped noticeably as I turned to face him. His eyebrow cocked in curiosity as he walked towards where I was, now leaning against his desk. “How come?”

“I- I’m..busy.” I managed to make the words escape my throat, intimidated as Ransom moved to stand right in front of me, pushing the sleeves of his cable knit jumper up to his elbows. I hated how turned on I felt at the sight.

“Busy?” He frowned curiously, eyes squinting as his fingers delicately traced over the exposed flesh of my thigh. I flinched at how he oozed dominance, trying to think of the right way to explain my evening plans but the silence seemed to tell all.

“Oh.” Ransom’s hand came to a sudden halt, leaving my leg feeling cold as his hand lifted off of my skin. His head dropped down to avoid my eyes, he now understood why I’d dressed different today. And his heart sunk as he realised it wasn’t for him.

“Come on Ransom,” I chuckled softly, trying to lighten the awkwardness and make him feel better as I adjusted myself to stand up straighter. Ransom coughed abruptly, turning his head to the side. “I’m sure one of your other girls would love to keep you company tonight.”

“Other girls?” Ransom’s head snapped back to me immediately with a deadly look on his face. His blue eyes stared deep into mine, making me nervous as I fidgeted slightly. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” His hands came to rest on his hips, his lips slightly parted in shock.

“Nothing, I-“

“So that’s what you think of me?” Ransom scoffed with a shake of his head, physically stepping away from me. “Just think I’m some kind of self-consumed womaniser who can’t keep his cock in his pants? Fuck me, it’s all over the media so it must be true. The disappointing heir of Harlan Thrombey who likes to enjoy himself, he must be off the fucking rails, unfit to run the family business. Do you think I just have a list of girls saved in my phone that I rotate through like some kind of fucking roulette wheel? Doesn’t matter if they have plans, or a boyfriend, I’m Hugh fucking Drysdale! I know they’ll come running so I use them just to dump my fucking cum into. God forbid I actually have a heart or life aspirations that don’t involve getting drunk, snorting coke or having a different girl in my bed every fucking night!” He was screaming his words by the end.

“No. Ransom, I didn’t mean-“ I tried to make him stop for a moment to explain what I meant. But he was so worked up. So heated, fury coursing through his body as his blood boiled from my accusation. 

Ransom ran one of his hands through his hair, his eyebrows deeply furrowed as I noticed his stomach expand with his heavy breaths.

“Ransom, please. I-“

“Just go.” He stepped further away from me as his face dropped sternly, clearing the path between me and the door.

I stood there, heartbroken at the thought of upsetting him, terrified of the fact that he was my boss. I’d never seen him this angry before. He had a point though. I didn’t know much about him apart from what I saw in the media. It was hard to ignore when they were constantly posting photos of him in compromising situations. Ransom was still new to the company, most of the time he’d been here he’d been stuck in his office attending conference calls with business partners or reviewing drafts. None of us knew much about Ransom personally. So we’d filled in the blanks with what the press told us he was.

“I said get the fuck out!” Ransom yelled in frustration, his muscles flexing as he picked up a glass from his desk, sending it smashing against the wall.

I flinched, terrified at the sudden sound, jolting upright and bolting toward the door without a moments hesitation.

I heard another crash from inside the room as the heavy wooden door shut behind me. My heart raced as I hurried my way through the reception area, thanking my lucky stars that everyone had already gone home for the day.

I stood by the lift, still in shock as I waited impatiently for the doors to open. I grabbed my phone from my purse, rolling my eyes as I remembered the double date that was about to take place. At least it would take my mind off of Ransom and the fact that I was probably going to get fired tomorrow. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, I should never have let myself get involved with him. I knew I’d end up ruining it. It was too good to be true. 

Ransom sighed as he slumped down onto his leather office sofa after grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the liquor cabinet. He held his head in his hand, untwisting the cap off the bottle with his teeth before spitting it out carelessly. There was no need for a glass tonight, which was lucky for him, considering his favourite one was in a thousand pieces on the floor.

tag list:

@harrysthiccthighss

@annestine

@bestofbucky

@be-patient-be-good

@nothing0is4here

@velvetcardiganbucky

@sexwithhiddlesbatch

[bthump]

hello! you are very welcome to ignore this (lol) but i've fallen into a bit of a hole regarding berserk (a manga i have never read) and have spent the last 2 or so days reading all of your meta on griffith (which is very good and compelling!) i'm sending this ask because while i've been able to piece together the plot enough to read your meta, i come up quite short wrt understanding the moonlight boy situation. would you be able to expand on that, and how he relates to griffith?if so thank you!!

also (sorry this is the same person asking about the moonlight baby again) is the moonlight baby separate from the fetus? i've been thinking of them as one entity which maybe is why i've been confused...?

No problem! Thanks for checking out my meta even though you haven't read it and welcome to the hell hole that is Berserk lol. Btw if you don't want to read the manga for whatever reason, which is totally fair lol, you could check out the 90s anime which covers the best and gayest arc pretty accurately, with a little less (though not none) sexual violence, and less graphic rape + sex when it's still there. Though no worries if you're not interested.

So wrt the moonlight boy, basically, ok. I'll take you through the relevant events to its existence step by step lol, it's kind of ridiculous and hard to explain.

So Casca and Guts fuck, then Femto rapes her during the Eclipse. Turns out that Casca was pregnant from fucking Guts and Femto like, corrupted the 4 day old zygote cells with his demon jizz and turned it into a demon fetus. Casca promptly miscarried it and between the Eclipse and Griffith's rebirth it's been zooming around, using magic to save Casca and occasionally haunting Guts during the Black Swordsman arc.

(Sidenote, Miura wrote the Black Swordsman arc before thinking of any of this, so back then it wasn't written as a demon fetus but as a pathetic looking demonic reminder of Guts' own weakness and inner darkness, imo. Not super relevant, but it if you read it eventually the Black Swordsman arc make more sense if you keep that in mind.)

Anyway, now comes Griffith's rebirth. There's a whole lot of weird shit going on here, but the basics are that there's an apostle that looks like a big walking behelit, and he made a sacrifice for "a wish" which is granted when he brings NGriff into the world. He does this by casually eating the fetus as he happens to walk by it, which then grows into NGriff and hatches from the egg-shaped apostle.

So now NGriff exists and was formed out of that demon fetus flesh. He goes to see Guts on the Hill of Swords to test to see whether he still has emotions, and uh oh his heart has started bthumping while watching Guts fight Zodd. He dismisses that as lingering feelings caused by the demon fetus he incorporated into his body.

Then Casca is endangered by falling rocks and Griffith saves her life suddenly, and then flies away on Zodd and contemplates that, connecting it to the fetus in his mind. Personally I interpret this as the fetus affecting Griffith when he saves Casca, but not making his heart flutter at the sight of Guts.

Guts takes Casca to go on a journey to Elfhelm and meets his rpg group along the way and now on full moons they keep seeing a mysterious kid who Casca is drawn to, and who disappears by morning. This is moonlight boy. At one point Schierke speculates that it's Danann the Elf King taking the form of a child to check up on them and help guide them. There are also strong hints that it's Guts and Casca's kid, so that was always an easy assumption to make.

The most common take in fandom as far as I could tell was that it was the soul of the demon fetus escaping Griffith during the full moon to hang out with Casca, because the full moon gives magic users an extra burst of power.

Plot happens, yadda yadda yadda, not too long ago we got a chapter that is somewhat indicative of NGriff physically transforming into moonlight boy lol, though still vague enough to keep me hoping that that wasn't going to be the case.

Finally here we are, with this final chapter werebaby Griffith is confirmed. The amount of Griffith's feelings that are the fetus' feelings vs his own is unconfirmed, but the final page is strongly suggestive of Griffith's real feelings.

SO! tl;dr, Moonlight Boy IS the fetus, and every full moon Griffith transforms into it and goes to hang out with Guts and Casca, and the vague dream-like memories of this make him cry when he demorphs and wakes up.

I'm sorry you couldn't just enjoy Berserk meta without learning about this lol.

[babypandawrites]

Okkkk sooo ever since finished lok. I had this idea where what if bolin met someone when they both worked for kuvira and he convinces them to go with him and fight against kuvira! Maybe like they were best friends but they kinda like each other 👉👈

Come With Me

Pairing: Bolin x GN Reader Warnings: Injury, Death Mentions Word Count: 738 Summary: You swore an oath to Kuvira, your loyalties laid with her. You didn’t think that would change, but Bolin raises a good point… 

Notes: I’ll be honest I wasn’t terribly sure how to incorporate them liking each other… Perhaps I could write a part two that gets into that? Anyways I loved writing this idea, and I really hope you enjoy it! <3 

-Navigation- | -Tlok Masterlist-

Joining Kuvira in her journey to help the Earth Kingdom come back to order was an easy choice for Y/n. They’d worked with her in the Metal Clan for years, and knew that she would do good for the Earth Kingdom after it was brought to chaos thanks to the Red Lotus. They were ready to do good for their nation, and felt a large sense of pride doing so.  Becoming friends with the cute boy from Republic City was just a plus. 

“I’m Bolin, by the way.” He rushed to catch up with them, a hand extending when the two of them paused in their steps. “I thought you should know, since we’ll be- you know -working together from here on out.”  His smile was bright. Contagious.   They couldn’t stop a smile of their own creeping onto their face as they shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Bolin.”  His head tipped to the side, confused when they didn’t give their name in return. “What’s your name…?”  “Do you like games, Bolin?” Their smile took on a mischievous glint, that made his heart beat a little faster.  “Yes..?”  They clapped their hands together. “Then let’s play one. Where you try to figure out my name within the week- Without asking anyone directly.”  Bolin raised an eyebrow. “What if I can’t figure it out?”  Y/n offered a shrug. “I’ll tell you.” Before he could get in another word, they turned on their heel and walked away.  He watched in confoundment as they left, a nervous laugh coming from him. He’s never met anyone like that before, not that he was complaining. 

Once again, Bolin found himself running to catch up with the mystery person he spoke with on his first day in the army.  They watched in amusement, as he leaned his hands against his knees, trying to catch his breath. When he did he stood up straight, before snapping his fingers. “Y/n, that’s your name.”  A grin over took their features. “How’d you figure it out?”  “Well, I heard you and Bataar talking when I passed by the meeting tent and that’s what he called you, so.”  Laughing, Y/n clasped their hands together behind their neck. “You’re something else, Bolin.”  He glanced about nervously. “Is that a good thing?”  “Yeah, it’s a good thing.” 

Throwing their arm forward, Y/n sent one of the metal plates from their uniform after Bolin, manipulating it to clasp around his wrist and yank him back over to them.  He shouted as he was dragged across the ground, stumbling and attempting to regain his balance once the force stopped.  “Bolin, what are you doing?!”  Gulping, he glanced around. The other soldiers were knocked out, it was just them- and Varrick who stood a bit aways watching the altercation.  “Y/n- Kuvira is crazy! You saw that weapon she wanted Varrick to make, it’s insane! You can’t be okay with this!”  They looked at him with disbelief. “Kuvira is doing what she has to to reunite the Earth Kingdom! Wh- What’s insane is that you- you faked your death and now you're helping fugitives? I could have gotten her to forgive you for what you did, I could have gotten you out of jail and now you’ve gone and ruined that! I can’t get you out of this, Bo.”  Bolin reached his free hand out, and grasped onto Y/n’s shoulder. “You can! You can come with me and Varrick and you can leave this behind because it’s wrong- It’s so wrong! Then you’d be getting me out of it and- and we can go and be best friends and live happily ever after not being a part of Kuvira’s dictative army! It’s perfect, right? Right! Let’s go.”  “Dictative?! Kuvira isn’t a dictator-”  “She wants to take Zaofu by force- You’ve heard everything I’ve heard and probably more. Does none of this seem not okay to you?”  “I-” Eyebrows furrowing together, their gaze dropped to the ground. Thinking back to all of Kuvira’s words, her actions… Some of them were questionable, but it had all been for the greater good. Right..? That’s what they always thought, but the more they really analyzed it, it seemed less and less like it was.  Releasing the metal from Bolin’s wrist, they attached it back to their uniform. “Let’s go.”  Grinning wide, he grasped onto their hand, and pulled them alongside with him to get out of there. 

[cherrywoes]

dark sun. (ryoumen sukuna x fem! vessel! reader x oc.)

iii. yugen.

— a profound awareness of the universe that triggers feelings too deep and mysterious for words.

rating: mature.

warnings: mentions of forced child bearing, violence.

YOUR NEW HOME was small, but much larger than the tiny closet that you had been sleeping in for the past several years. A bed with a mattress lay in the center of the room, the headboard pushed against the wall, and a desk and nightstand were the only other furniture to occupy it. It was much more modern than you had expected, but still kept to the traditional layout that most of the campus had to begin with. It smelled of wood polish, cleaner, and a faint incense that was making your stomach roll unpleasantly.

“They burned sage here,” Sayaka explained quietly. She stood behind you right before the threshold of the door, holding your bag while you scoped out your new abode. The rest of the ten minute walk had been silent between the both of you, filled with Ama-no-Kagaseo’s malice, Sayaka’s worry, and your disturbing apathy at the event. She kept running her fingers over the rope handles of your bag, working at each stray strand until it fell apart. “The previous tenant passed away violently and had lingering energy in the room.”

It was a convenient lie. Sorcerers didn’t ‘haunt’ in the same way that humans would haunt their homes, families, or killers; they did not remain behind at all. Wherever they went, there was no trace of them left behind. You knew that much from a book you’d snuck from Yaga when you were younger, before you were ever a vessel. Sayaka likely didn’t know that you were aware of that fact, nor would you allow her to be. You had to be clever now; you weren’t going to lose your freedom so easily now that you had it. And if that meant hiding things from Sayaka for now, then so be it.

“I see.” Ama-no-Kagaseo’s energy swept through the room and extinguished the incense burning in a corner. The smoke dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, floating up between the slats in the ceiling and encouraged to vanish by an incorporeal hand. You would have a headache later because of the smell, but you already felt better because it was gone. You, like Ama-no-Kagaseo, had an extreme sensitivity to anything purifying or cleansing in nature—although it couldn’t kill you, it could severely cripple your senses enough to the point where you would black out. Whether or not Ama-no-Kagaseo took over was his choice after that. You had discovered that little factoid after accidentally touching a blessed object in an elder’s office. “What am I to do here? I know they wouldn’t just let me stay here without some caveat in return.”

Sayaka followed you inside and set your bag beside the door. “There were whispers of having you keep an eye on Gojou and Itadori Yuuji, but I don’t know if they ever came to an actual decision over it.”

Oh, it was too convenient—in the off chance that Gojou would wield Yuuji to take down the elders and crooked system of clans and power, you would be there to keep them in check, to counterbalance the scales into neutrality’s favor. It was a good plan, a smart one, but you highly doubted they had factored in one thing: Ama-no-Kagaseo did not follow orders.

“Right. Of course not.” You pressed your fingers into the mattress, testing the softness. Beneath the fabric, your fingertips gave way to springs, hard and slightly broken in from where someone else had slept in a specific position. It groaned beneath your slight weight and you pulled back, eyes darting around the room to search for a futon—that would be infinitely more comfortable than this bed. “So, if I’m not going to do that, then what am I going to do? Sit here and rot until they call for me?”

You were bitter, and understandably so. Your freedom was on the leash of the elders who held the other end, usually with an iron fist and heavy hand. You were always raised to never bite the hand that feeds, but it was looking far too tempting right now. You could understand Gojou, just a little bit, and his frustration with the way things worked among the sorcerer society, but it did not make you feel guilty for what Ama-no-Kagaseo did to him. Not quite.

“Just…” Sayaka sighed and sat down on a cushion at the foot of your bed. She hid her hands in her pockets, fiddling with something that sounded vaguely like a chain or chain links clinking together like windchimes. She didn’t seem nervous, for once, but more exhausted—lethargic, even. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than usual, her cheeks sunken and a little wan in the light. You hadn’t paid much mind to the changes in her appearance, but when she let her guard down it was apparent that she was tired. “Be careful. The president of the Kyoto campus is coming soon for the events—no, I didn’t ask—and he’ll want to see you, presumably.”

For just a moment, you had thought she would open up to you. Your gut tumbled with disappointment.

“When am I ever not careful?” With a slight scoff and a roll of your eyes, you evaded the cushion next to her and opted for sitting at the windowsill instead. It offered a perfect view of the courtyard and a small garden out behind it, flowers just barely peeking out over the stone paths. The wood was rough and unsanded, but you tolerated it just to maintain distance between yourself and Sayaka. “My entire life has been nothing but ‘careful’. You don’t have to tell me that, Fujiwara-san.”

You could feel her flinch at the sound of her last name. You never used her last name, at least not in private, much in the same way she only ever used your last name and never your first. It was new, bizarre, and foreign, because she knew, just like you knew, that the tiny chasm that Sayaka herself had made was starting to fissure into something bigger, something that wouldn’t just close on its own.

“Right. What was I thinking?” The sorcerer rubbed her face and exhaled a long breath. With a second glance at you, she got to her feet, shrugging off the vulnerability she had shown and replacing it with the Sayaka you knew. “I’ll leave you to unpack. Dinner is at five; you can join Gojou, Itadori-san and I if you’d like.”

With that offer lingering in the air, she stepped outside your room and shut the door behind her with a quiet ‘snick’ of the lock. It wasn’t locked, but the idea was there—after all, there were no tumblers on the inside of the knob.

“Indecisive.” Ama-no-Kagaseo manifested before you in a bright spurt of black flames, stars writhing inside each individual lick of heat. You reached up to allow him to hover over your palms to which he did so gladly, the fire oddly cold against your skin in comparison to the heat in the air around him. “She knows not what she wants.”

You huffed a breath. “I know. It’s her choice to make, though.”

“Mm.” A brief flash of fire and he was reaching for his human vessel against your chest. He lingered close to it for a moment, but you could feel his thoughts churning in the connection you shared, ponderous and curious. “Interesting.”

“What is?” You inquired, watching as he allowed his human body’s eyes to slide open for the first time in decades. They were completely black and enveloped with stars, much like you had been told how you appeared, and a single blue dot appeared beneath his eye.

“Nothing. For now.” The eyes slid shut and the flame retreated back into your open palms. “Hungry?”

Your stomach was rumbling, but a glance at the clock on your new desk revealed it was just four-thirty. You wondered if you could get away with eating early and retreating to your room again without ever having to run into Gojou or Itadori, although that was highly unlikely. Avoiding anyone here was as impossible as the moon rising before the sun.

“It’s a bit early,” you said instead, leaning against the windowsill and tucking your knees to your chest. You rested your hands on your knees, watching Ama-no-Kagaseo flicker curiously at your denial for food. “It’s okay, I’m not that hungry.”

A quick rush of flames indicated he didn’t believe you, but he went incorporeal afterwards, reverting back to a cool breeze that lingered in the air around you. He likely had nothing else to say or nothing on his mind that was important; he had a habit of doing such lately, though you could never pinpoint why. You supposed that it was not important for him to retain some physical manifestation while he was thinking, or that it was not his priority if he was too deeply in thought.

With a sigh, you sat back and stretched out your legs. You weren’t sure what to do now; years without freedom had put limits on your movements and hobbies. To now be handed that freedom on a silver platter, probably with later conditions, you almost wanted to go back to being stuck in that closet room all day and night. But you couldn’t do that, not when opportunity was already in your grasp.

What did people your age do? You stared outside the window at the stone path, eyebrows furrowed in thought. You were certain they didn’t have a Curse, that’s for sure, and they definitely weren’t a vessel for the world’s most evil being in creation. They also dressed differently from you—you, who looked like you had stepped out of a mystical, traditional Japanese fantasy novel—even when they were required to wear uniforms. Their sense of style and overall mood, just from meeting Itadori Yuuji, was different from yours. You wouldn’t fit in in modern society, or even the sorcerer’s carefully monitored one.

You were stuck, in a sense, in an era that you weren’t born in.

Ama-no-Kagaseo lifted a strand of your hair with an invisible hand in comfort. He was not quick to offer a solution and merely left you to ponder on all of the possibilities within your combined power. After all, they had to be your decisions to count to the council, not his. Any hint that he was persuading you in any way would force them to lock you up in a sealed room and execute you on sight.

But that was the issue, wasn’t it? There weren’t any other female descendants. You were the last remaining female Shiraishi. The men in your clan, while unrelated to you and having married in, were too old or uninterested in obeying the whims of the elders, as was their right. You had no choice in the matter. If you wouldn’t produce an heir willingly, they would make you do it by force—you had been told that they would sweep the women away to a clinic in Tokyo and create a child artificially, guaranteeing a female offspring. You weren’t, but your father was nonexistent in your life and may as well be as dead as your mother.

“Then I’ll just have to end it,” you mumbled to yourself. It was the only right conclusion. You would stop subjecting innocent girls to being vessels and you would simultaneously release Ama-no-Kagaseo in the process. But to do that, you would need help and information from Ryoumen Sukuna. He was, after all, the one who developed the technique to seal Ama-no-Kagaseo into a human body in the first place. He would be gone as soon as all twenty fingers were found, anyway, so there was no risk for him to be resealed again. You would just have to bide your time and wait carefully until the time was right. “What do you  think, Ama-no-Kagaseo?”

In your connection, you felt him full heartedly agree—but there was also reluctance there, hesitation.

“What is it?” You inquired softly. He surprised you by completely manifesting—a childlike version of his personal form, indicative of his tumultuous emotions because, even though he was a god, he experienced emotions on a childlike level, experiencing them for the first time—and pushing himself into your arms, uncaring of his actual physical form against your chest. “Amatsumikaboshi?”

His white hair, turning a dark blue and then black towards the ends, brushed against your arms as he further wormed his way against your side, just small enough to fit on the window seat with you. He wore a drastically oversized yukata decorated with a dragon scale design, expensive, and of the same fabric as your kimono. A golden eye, as gold as doubloons, peered at you from behind a fringe of snowy white strands, and atop his head sat two sharp horns, each as white as his hair and darkening to blue towards the points. He was not as intimidating like this, but you still held the same respect for him, and he you.

“No.”

Amused, you raised an eyebrow and rested a hand on his head, combing through the strands soothingly much in the way he would yours when you were tired. “‘No’, what?”

Amatsumikaboshi—not Ama-no-Kagaseo, for this was no normal representation of a false identity—fixed you with a determined stare. He was of so few words that you only understood him through his emotions, new and unexplored as they were, and he was keeping them from you for some reason, fixed on the idea that he was going to tell you himself.

“No separation.” He frowned, then, and reached for your heart, and traced it back to his. “No split.”

“Oh.” You blinked at him, then, tilting your head to further meet his eyes. His pupils were unusual slits now, some link to a dragonic form you didn’t know of. “But we will part some day, Amatsumikaboshi. I’m only human.”

He seemed angry at that fact, eyebrows furrowing at being reminded of it. He never liked being reminded of your very finite life, at risk every time you got sick or ate something that could have been laced with poison. He glared—glared at his human form—and all at once, seemed to come to a conclusion. Some invisible future began playing out in his head, all of his own creation, and whatever it was, it made a smile appear on his face. It was the first time you’d ever seen him smile out of happiness, at least in a physical body you could see. You’d felt the others against your skin or hair, but seeing it was a different thing entirely.

“Do not worry,” he said after a few moments of silence, meeting your concerned gaze once more with disturbing intensity. “I can fix it.”

“Fix it?” You echoed. You reached forward and adjusted a fold of his yukata that threatened to crease, usually out of habit of doing it to your own. He grabbed your hand and placed it back on his head instead, waiting patiently for you to resume petting him. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Yet.” He rested his head against the juncture of your shoulder and chest, a hand creeping up to rest against your heart and feel the gentle beat against his fingers. “For now.”

Blinking, you were about to question him further when your stomach interrupted you. A loud growl tore through the momentary silence and Amatsumikaboshi snickered, sitting upright, all questions and thoughts forgotten—or at least ignored.

“Eat,” he said, a hint of a smile still on his face, and leaning forward, brushed a kiss against your cheek. And then he was gone in a rush of blue, black, and white sparks, as incorporeal as he was before.

You sat on the windowsill, a blush creeping up your neck, and touched the tingling skin on your cheek in slight shock. You knew he was watching you, amusement rushing through your connection, and something else—so fast you couldn’t even guess as to what it was—and probably laughing to himself.

Embarrassed, you got to your feet and slipped on your shoes, heading down the hall towards the room where Sayaka had invited you to eat with her, Gojou, and Itadori Yuuji. Hopefully they didn’t mind you being a little late.

Before you could even turn a corner, a man was staring at you—dressed entirely in black and wielding a dagger in his right hand.

“Who are you?” You demanded. He didn’t answer.

Instead, your vision went white, and before you knew it, you were back inside your consciousness, inside Ama-no-Kagaseo’s domain, except you were keenly aware of your physical body hitting the floor and Ama-no-Kagaseo’s true form standing right beside you.

“Ama-no-Kagaseo,” you whispered, shock weaving into your voice as he carefully enveloped you into his arms, much like you had earlier. He was two heads taller than you in this personal representation of himself, warm, and lean. “What happened? Why am I here?”

He hummed against your head thoughtfully, dark and insidious. “Someone is trying to break my connection to you.”

“What?” You pulled back to stare him in the face, watching those golden eyes flicker over your face as if memorizing a dream. “What do you mean ‘break’ it?”

“Don’t worry.” Ama-no-Kagaseo smiled indulgently and pulled you closer again, your ear pressed against his chest—and to your shock, the steady beat of a heart sounding against your ear. “No power in this universe will ever separate us.”

And for once, you didn’t really believe him. 

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[love-takes-work]

Steven Universe: End of an Era: Outline & Review

I wrote this review in October but never got around to posting it here

Steven Universe: End of an Era is far more than an art book–it’s also a collection of behind-the-scenes material, stories about the experience of working on the show, planning documents and associated background info, and both older versions of developed concepts AND concepts that never made it into the show. It's a huge fusion of all those elements, and it's definitely an experience!

Some low-quality images are included with my review just to give you an idea of what’s there--it’s not a good substitute for getting your own copy, but here’s a tour!

Like the previous concept art book, Art and Origins, I'll be giving you a description of the structure and overview, while also collecting notable information for fans. Obviously just about everything is "notable" once again, but I'll aim for unique insight or perspective on the main source material, keeping the screaming about everything new to a minimum so you can also enjoy something for yourself if you pick it up. My low-quality photos should prevent people from feeling like I'm reproducing the book in any capacity. Please grab one while you can and have your own experience!

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

OVERVIEW

The book is titled "End of an Era" for a couple reasons--obviously because it is released after the show has wrapped, but also because Gem history recently ended its "Era 2" and began Era 3--an age of prosperity and peace. The author--the person in charge of adapting all of this information into this slick, readable package--is Chris McDonnell, whose work was previously applied on the Art and Origins book.

The foreword is by N.K. Jemisin, a well-known science fiction author who's a huge fan of the show (and wrote a really excellent series that also has a weird geological connection, by the way).

And the cover, like its predecessor, is shiny and decorated with a beach scene featuring minimalistic characters--this time it's the Gems at night in front of the Temple, and on the back cover is a big pink leg ship in a cross-legged pose.

The interior covers are decorated with tons of amazing sketches of Steven and Connie on the front, and a bunch of Gem sketches on the back. Every interior page that most would leave blank is highlighted with some kind of sketch art or character exercise--it's so much to look at, so much to absorb.

The book is dedicated "For Eddie."

Its organization is different from the previous book in that it shares applicable work in chunks associated with groups of episodes rather than pertaining to different aspects of building the show.

FOREWORD

N.K. Jemisin gives us such a great introduction to the book--apparently understanding very well that the audience of this book is full of animation enthusiasts and adult fans more than it is full of kids, and explaining that bewildering journey some adults had from blowing this show off as a silly kid thing to falling in love with it hard and fast.

The important thing, Jemisin says, is being able to trust a storyteller with your heart. And it was clear to her that Rebecca Sugar knew what she was talking about and was saying important things about identity and the radical power that comes with accepting it and demanding respect.

Important also is how we handle heroes and who gets to be one in fantasy. That's part of the reason Steven Universe speaks to so many--because we see ourselves here, and know stories can be about us. Acknowledging the power we all have to MAKE THINGS BETTER with what we fight for is so important--especially if we're going to speaking to the next generation about it.

Highlighting Rose Quartz as a "born leader" who failed and Steven as a relatable scamp who did what she couldn't, Jemisin asserts that we can save the world.

1. END OF AN ERA

We start with an appeal to the audience to think about identity and the formative parts of our childhood--and how different it is if who you are and who you become is restricted, mocked, erased, or Not Allowed. Most people, if not ALL people, can relate to this, but for those of us with a special relationship with Steven Universe because of queer identity, this hits hard.

But it doesn't have to be anything grand to be something we respect--this show's authenticity comes largely from how personal everything is, drawn from real-life experiences and incidental truths from each artist's perspective, leaning hard on childhood and formative experiences.

Rebecca Sugar offers some interview bits to discuss writing philosophy and why "writing female characters" was difficult for a nonbinary person who'd been socialized as a girl and a woman. Rebecca has spoken before about how frustrating it is that marketing for cartoons was SO gendered when she was growing up (and to some extent still is).

The Gems in the story are all "she/her," but on their planet they're defined by their work, not by emotion or relationships (unlike women in our society), so having them be socialized opposite to how she was and be able to claim those emotions through choice and NOT as just an expectation "as women" was revolutionary. Rebecca wants her show to tell all marginalized people that they don't deserve to be in the margins.

Weighing in on other aspects of the show were Ian Jones-Quartey, Joe Johnston, and Miki Brewster. Ian describes feeling like at first doing SU was a thrill ride that meant they'd finally get to do all the cool stuff, but it quickly became a responsibility that he took very seriously--the need to tell a good story now that he'd been given a megaphone.

Promotional art, planning documents, character sketches, and concept art from the lighthearted to the stone serious is included, along with some very cool (sort of famous) timeline charts that track major characters' developments. It's emphasized by Rebecca that the developmental materials ARE NOT CANON (and especially are not MORE canon) compared the final show.

There are concept sketches alongside final art for Aquamarine and Topaz in "Wanted" (with Topaz labeled "Imperial Topaz"), the Zircons in "The Trial," Blue and Yellow Diamond, and the Off Colors (including Pink Lars).

And there's also a spread of "the two sides of Steven's life: Gem Magic and Rock N Roll" featuring Sadie Killer and the Suspects (referred to as "Buck's band")--as well as a cool "Crew Cameos" key and some concepts for short-haired Connie.

And then there's some more "finished" art with stills alongside concepts, including some background art, revision, and really cool "fairytale" art from some of the shadowplay storytelling bits. We get "Lars of the Stars," "Jungle Moon," and "Can't Go Back."

2. THE BEGINNING OF THE END: A SINGLE PALE ROSE

In discussing the huge reveals and Gem mysteries in the show, the pacing is examined, and emphasis is put on the intended "slow burn." One of the most difficult things in the show was to strategize so that every piece that was needed to support another piece in the future was placed properly to seed what it was supposed to.

Some of the ideas they developed were more of a group effort and were fit together collaboratively (like Amethyst's being younger than the other Gems and Jasper being from Earth), while others were intended from the beginning based on Rebecca's vision (the fundamental idea of Pink Diamond's true identity, for instance, as well as Obsidian's design and sword and our Pearl not being Pink's first).

The writing process gets a great deep dive here, including fun tidbits like how the orb in the moon base was inserted by Joe Johnston and they literally had no idea what it was for when they wrote the episode. They repurposed it when they figured out what they needed.

Rebecca credits her detailed timelines for helping keep the order straight, and discusses how other artists are sometimes flabbergasted that a storyboard-driven show can have this much detail and continuity and yet not get wrecked by the free non-scripted boarding process. But Rebecca and the Crew valued that approach and loved the way fresh eyes would handle an idea, making it come back alive, entertaining, vivid.

Several Crew members weigh in on the writing process. Lauren Hecht refers to making lots of incorrect guesses despite being on the inside. Joe Johnston recalled getting briefed on his first day and getting so excited to start working on this massive project.

Miki Brewster remembered being told Rose Quartz is Pink Diamond and being shocked--and also confused about why Ruby and Sapphire would need to be married if they're already basically married. Drew Green talks about being brought in late and getting to watch unaired episodes and a rough of the movie while eating cereal.

Ian Jones-Quartey complains about Pink Diamond's real jester-like form being leaked to the internet through a Hot Topic shirt. Rebecca piggybacks on that and says it was upsetting that the wedding was leaked because of toy fair keychains featuring Ruby and Sapphire in wedding attire. They'd always be worried about leaks, and sometimes Rebecca struggled not to talk about the reality of Pink Diamond before the reveal because she knew it would make so much more sense once the truth was out. And everything associated with Rose makes more sense once you know she's Pink--especially what happened with Bismuth, considering what we know about how Pink Diamond has a habit of treating anyone who no longer serves her interests.

When it comes to visual cues, Rebecca also talks about intentional designs to create a feeling of unity between concepts, like the flower shapes on Pink Diamond's palanquin lining up with the poofs of Steven's hair and the star imagery of the series. Steven Sugar and Mary Nash discuss how the Human Zoo incorporated this imagery, trying to look like Homeworld with a Pink Diamond touch.

Steven Sugar, as a game nerd, liked to throw in video game references from old and modern stuff to feel like he's inserting what he's enjoying and who he is from moment to moment, while Mary Nash, who related to Sadie as a basement-dwelling young person with cult interests, liked to include stuff from MST3K and cult movies. Pearl's hand gestures get a spotlight too--her reflex to cover her mouth when Pink Diamond was being discussed was analyzed here.

A "Top Secret Visual Timeline" from 2016 is included which tells us some Diamond history. It has an earlier version of Pink Pearl's fate and does not include Spinel since the movie hadn't been greenlit. The timeline includes the birth of the Diamonds, the emergence and major story beats for each major character, and some philosophy of the driving force behind each.

We're told that Pink Diamond straightened up, behavior-wise, after she lost her first Pearl, and that Yellow and Blue wanted to give her a planet but White only agreed to it to prove she would fail at managing a colony. Pearl, meanwhile, is so confused to have a Diamond who keeps asking her what she thinks when she doesn't believe she should have opinions.

And when Pink moonlighted as Rose to start conflict, she found herself leading an army to fight Pink's troops--then Yellow's, and eventually Blue's too. Lapis is said to be waiting for the conflict to end on Earth so she can terraform, but she gets trapped instead.

Pearl's love story with Rose is described as "an endless honeymoon" where she's free to love her, while Rose's is more like "I'm now the head of the family and I'm going to give everyone what they never had, so everyone is super special!"

Jasper is described as "adopted" into Yellow's army as the only successful Beta Quartz. And White Diamond knew that Pink Diamond was not dead--she thought she was just running away from home like a brat and would eventually be back.

3. THE HEART OF THE CRYSTAL GEMS

Now we discuss Rose Quartz--the original Pink Diamond. How she was selfish and selfless, never enough and always too much, and how Greg was her first partner who "challenged her" to be an equal. Rebecca describes Rose as being delighted by the idea that both she and Greg reinvented themselves, but when that leads her to want to share her past, Greg isn't interested--he only wants to know who she is now, and doesn't consider the old her to be her.

Rebecca likes Carl Jung's concept of "enantiodromia," which is the idea that extremes lead to their extreme opposite. This is demonstrated in all of the Diamonds. This narrative is interspersed with drawings of Greg and Rose being cute.

But another "heart" of the Crystal Gems is its relationships--particularly, Garnet, the fairy tale romance embodied. More psychological theories are discussed with regard to differentiation in a relationship making the relationship stronger, and how they made sure that happened for Garnet during the appropriate arc. Rebecca has struggled with the idea that she, like Ruby, went straight from a "family" group to a living-with-others situation and never lived by herself. But she also learned that you can in fact develop as a person in the context of a relationship--you don't have to be alone to do it. Ruby learned that too, and chose on her own terms to be with Sapphire.

The wedding made so much sense to Rebecca and the crew that they couldn't imagine a wholesome couple like Ruby and Sapphire not having a wedding episode. They wanted it for years: The wedding concepts always included the tuxedo for Sapphire and the wedding dress for Ruby.

But pushback (often blamed on the conservative standards of the international market) led to negotiations trying to keep Ruby and Sapphire's relationship from being explicit. Rebecca and the Crew were very tired of this double standard, and they were especially irritated by attempts to claim a wedding wouldn't be well received by a core demographic or wouldn't make sense for Steven's character. But other shows had done weddings and Steven had been established to love weddings already.

Rebecca kept adding more elements to the wedding episode to answer all the concerns, but she didn't want to back down from explicit marriage between these characters. They deserved it. And the audience deserved to see this as wholesome, like any other cartoon wedding. Eventually they got their way and were allowed to have the wedding. But the ordered episodes were also coming to a close without promise of more, so Rebecca had to request more episodes to be able to wrap up the storyline!

And of course, there is Steven, the true heart of the team. A very interesting aside discusses Garnet's leadership and how the network pushed the Crewniverse to acknowledge Steven as the leader. This was successfully resisted throughout as well--because Garnet is the leader (unless she's incapacitated, of course). It's fantastic that this concept was preserved because too often a young male chosen one is elevated above people with more experience and knowledge because of that chosen one tradition, so it's really nice to have a show acknowledge that team leadership is more appropriate for an adult.

4. ERA 3

Beginning with a discussion of the Diamonds, this chapter deconstructs the dysfunctional "family" of the Diamonds (who are said to be based on tropes about evil stepmothers and stepsisters), with the thread of dysfunction originating with White Diamond.

Yellow is physical, Blue is emotional, White is judgmental, and Pink is impulsive. Some philosophy on why Pink is naturally manipulative and why she clashes so much with White is offered.

White believes her identity is to be imposed on all because she is the pinnacle of what should be--and therefore, she has the right to make decisions and statements about and on behalf of everyone. But her secret is that she can't do what the others do--act or feel or want. In trying to be everyone, she is no one.

And this becomes very important when she confronts Steven about his identity and turns out to be wrong. The triumph of Steven being totally, fully himself is a beautiful, simple revelation that's described as far more satisfying than the theories about Pink living inside him or Rose returning from his Gem.

Also discussed is Gem architecture. A lot went into this idea, and Steven Sugar weighs in to say he had to think of what it would mean for a world to have buildings but serve no human needs. That's why it's mostly focused on transport and storage. Even the broken planet is meant to indicate a place stripped for its resources, and everything serves a function that is meant to avoid looking like the human equivalents.

And there's another layer, too: a difference between Era 1 and Era 2. Era 2 became more functional to hide Era 1's broken bits, and older Homeworld buildings still have some "ornate and ancient" feel to them. And the fact that props, tools, and even walls and doors could be living was taken from a concept Rebecca thought was horrible from old Busby Berkeley movies, where people were inanimate objects and it was portrayed as lovely. Tom Herpich helped conceptualize these living objects.

Steven dealing with "princess tropes" is discussed here too. The Pebbles (worked on with Pendleton Ward) were sort of his Cinderella's mice, and all the locked-in-a-tower, having supportive tiny friends help you, getting princess clothes made, attending a ball, having to mind your manners stuff was intentionally related to fairy tales.

The point of doing that (besides fun) was to easily invoke the feeling that Steven was being made to be someone he's not, and that he was being treated like THIS is who he really is when it isn't. White Diamond as the "evil stepmother" is discussed with regard to her detailed features and massive scale. They generally didn't put fingernails and eyelashes on characters (especially not to indicate that they were women or girls!), but they decided White would get all of these feminine markers for tradition's sake.

Rebecca also invokes several other references that were included and describes the princess tropes as "chipping away at his integrity" setting him up for the final challenge with White.

There is again tons of concept art: Homeworld architecture, Pebbles, Diamond diagrams, background Jades and Lemon Jade Fusion, Comby, Diamond extraction chambers, and White Diamond.

5. CHANGE YOUR MIND

Now we finally begin to discuss Steven's identity. The "Perfect Steven," discussed in several interviews before this book's release, was an idea back in 2013; the "ultimate Steven," beefed up and shonen-looking, was far from perfect because OUR Steven is perfect, while this alpha hero Steven idea (used in Steven Universe Future) didn't belong being idolized in such a show.

They thought about having Steven fall apart into organic half and Gem half early in the show (during "Giant Woman" after a successful fusion and unfusion, even!), but they didn't try the concept until the last episode. They didn't want the "Pink" Steven to be portrayed as "better" even though he would be more powerful, so they decided he isn't whole without his organic self and he's just as much of a shell as the organic half. They absolutely did not want any ending that required Rose to be inside him or waiting to come back. But the debates were fierce--what DOES it mean to have Rose's Gem?

Ian Jones-Quartey brings in an anecdote about his own family to emphasize some of the immigrant themes that inspired aspects of the show. He had a brother who reinvented himself elsewhere away from family without resolving issues, and all the ramifications of that were explored in the show through Rose Quartz. (He is careful to say he doesn't think his immigrant experience is like being from another planet!) But he did say you can hurt your old family even if they were toxic or didn't know the real you, and you can hurt your new family by hiding your past. The Pizza family of course was also a more direct reference to Ian's Ghanaian family.

In talking about the new Fusions from this episode, Sunstone is largely described by Miki, who also got to board the Sunstone section. Sunstone was described as a cool 1990s character and the evolution just continued into making them a fourth-wall-breaking PSA dispenser. Obsidian is also discussed, with their sword being an early concept. Steven Sugar said they totally knew it would be forged in action. Obsidian being similar to the Temple design is of course another very early detail.

The story of how James Baxter got involved with one of the final scenes (Organic Steven and Pink Steven fusing in front of White Diamond) was shared. His family was fans of the show and Rebecca Sugar took the time to drive to a birthday party for his daughter and give her a drawing. He then owed her a favor, and this was it.

Concept art is again included, this time with sample boards, promo images, a Diamond fight concept, costume design changes for the Gems, new Fusions, the so-called "Mega Diamond" ship conglomerate, some scenes from the White Diamond confrontation, Pink Steven, multiple pages of James Baxter animation, corrupted Gems and their healed selves, and photos from the "Change Your Mind" premiere and some awards. The show has won one design-related Emmy, a Peabody Award, and a GLAAD award.

6. STEVEN UNIVERSE FUTURE

The book doesn't cover the movie because it got its own book, but dives right into Future. Ian Jones-Quartey emphasizes that the movie and Future are separate and different from the original show, which ENDED. After all, after that, Steven has a neck!

Some new names are invoked now: new writers Kate Tsang, Jack Pendarvis, and Taneka Stotts. They were excited to have Steven make HIS OWN mistakes instead of trying to clean up someone else's! Now, instead of doing the usual shonen anime thing and having the final battle be a big physical rumble, Steven has to make peace with himself and take an active role in coping with what all the fighting has done to him and what effect it's had on who he is (and who he wants to be). There is no sudden "I love myself!" answer, either. It's always a process.

Drew Green and Maya Petersen, who came on board as storyboarders officially in Future, also weighed in on writing for a "mature" show, how to deal with Steven being a "moral compass" while being sort of unreliable, and what they learned as Crew that they didn't know as fans. Drew didn't know Garnet never asks questions. Jack didn't realize the show never deviated from Steven's point of view. Taneka was nervous but excited to collaborate. Kate was worried about how established the show was and what to do as a new writer to contribute appropriately.

Maya was on the old Crew but not as a storyboarder, so felt like some of the "old" ideas ended up not being appropriate for the "new" Future in an embarrassing way--and dreaded the idea of dealing with Steven's emotional problems when they were similar to stuff she'd been through. She also was personally behind the idea of Steven wanting to dump his problems by becoming Stevonnie, and got to work with Etienne Guignard on inventing the Pearl creation backstory with Volleyball.

There's some discussion of "depression hobbies," stress, and the show's pacing. And they say Etienne was entertaining at pitches. There's even some discussion of how Greg is taken off a bit of a pedestal because his terrible restrictive life in the suburbs sounded wholesome to Steven and Greg presented it negatively.

And then there is some information about how the Crew felt behind the scenes due to fan reactions and negative press. Ian discusses feeling offended when the Black characters are described as bad examples, as if their cartoonized but realistic-in-context features are automatically caricatures.

Rebecca Sugar felt beaten down by some of these narratives and began to access mental health services, inspiring some of the content of "Mindful Education." A long reflection from Rebecca discusses people's infighting about her show and what she had a responsibility to show or not show in the story. She learned a lot about bullying from Cartoon Network's anti-bullying program and learned that bullies thrive on whatever attention you give them--unless it is made clear to them by a peer group that no one is impressed by their cruel actions. Also, not all negative feedback is bullying. Constructive criticism is different. Self-awareness can help you avoid internalizing what bullies might do or say to you.

Segueing from the discussion of how people are affected by and connect with the show, we then discuss how they chose as a team what should be covered as the show came to a close. They didn't have time to do quite a few stories they wanted time for, like a Rhodonite story, a Lars side story, and Diamond "prehistory" and religion; all of it was put aside for the main arc with Steven.

They thought people would find those stories about Homeworld and Off Color history very interesting, but so much of the show had been about Steven's Gem adventures, so keeping him mostly on Earth seemed appropriate. The acknowledgment of his battle damage, of his trauma, was necessary and real, and helpful in an important way to the core audience.

Oh, and there was some stuff about a cheeseburger tree. Don't ask.

In discussing the "reverse escapism" of the original show (Gem aliens are intrigued by everyday human culture, and realism is necessary), Rebecca says her views have changed on escapism and gets why some people want a soothing feel-better show. She acknowledged also that her own escapist dreams-come-true fulfilled in the show didn't feel like escapism because they were givens to the majority of mainstream culture, but were never guaranteed to marginalized people.

Rebecca ties in her several-times-told story about "Love Like You" and how the middle bit was when she didn't feel she was worth looking up to, and the realizations she had to tie the beginning to the end. Feeling like someone will like you less if they know you more is terrible. So sometimes a show like this can be helpful in telling people that they belong when their fantasies are things like "I want to be loved" and "I want to know I exist."

In Future, Steven has to connect to who he is and love that person--and understand that person enough to finally feel that even if he's not fixing their problems or saving their world right this second, Steven deserves his family's love and support, and they WANT to give it to him.

There's a huge amount of supplemental material in this section so there's no way I could name it all. The charts for Future's timeline are pretty straightforward, though a few episodes like "A Very Special Episode," "Why So Blue," "In Dreams," and "Bismuth Casual" aren't specifically represented and a couple are in a different order ("Prickly Pair" was conceived as happening after "Fragments" and "Homeworld Bound").

Steven feeling like a monster, having intrusive thoughts, having not forgiven the Diamonds, and getting help/moving on--it's all there.

We have keys, color scripts, and boards for the new opening and some various backgrounds and storyboard art from episodes. Model sheets for Shep, Nice Lapis and Mean Lapis, Jasper, Steven Tag Gems, Pink Steven Powers, Monster Steven. New house concepts, Era 3 Homeworld concept art for the Diamond environments, and background art for the Reef.

New Connie and Greg designs. Concepts for Mega Pearl, the Rose Quartzes, Bluebird, and Morganite (who didn't get used). And there are some photos from recording and the conference room. There are even some extras from "Crossover Nexus," the crossover with OK K.O.!--including an unused cut scene that included Ruby and Sapphire fighting. The rest of the book is a bunch of adorable Crewniverse art--extras, blog drawings, promos, and gifts to each other.

NOTABLE

1.

The first timeline chart in the book features a cool sketch of the original Off Colors, which at the time this planning document was drafted included unused Off Colors Flint and Chert.

We knew of their existence already because of an episode of the podcast, but these two unexpectedly appeared as incidental characters in the Steven Universe Future episode "Homeworld Bound," identified only in the credits. Sad to think that instead of banding with the Off Colors, these two were probably shattered for their crime (being Quartzes who don't want to fight) and that's why we see them being repaired in this episode. Later, there's some brainstorming for types of Off Colors and "a Ruby that wants to wear limb enhancers" is mentioned as well.

2. 

It looks like there was also originally more juice to the story of tracking down the events of the war culminating in Pink Diamond's assassination.

One of the timelines talks about Steven thinking it makes sense that Pearl can't talk about her involvement because she might have been a double agent, explaining why Rose Quartz always knew what Pink Diamond was doing. It seems like that bit was supposed to be included in Garnet's version of the story she believed in "Your Mother and Mine." Seems like they originally conceived Garnet's story to inspire the Off Colors to become pirates and freedom fighters, though in the show's canon this storytelling happened after Lars had already reinvented himself the way he did.

Sadie was also supposed to be sending letters to Lars via Steven, which is funny since the "Letters to Lars" episode is just a montage Steven letter. And of course it's specified that Steven was supposed to get Pink Diamond flashbacks by going to the Palace on Homeworld.

3. 

The second chart in the book makes references to Sadie's reinvention of herself as a parallel to Lars, Greg, and Pink Diamond all doing the same thing, and how positive it is to embrace such a thing--a version of yourself that YOU create.

I love that Yellow Diamond's arm ship arm-wrestling the Cluster was always part of the plan.

There's some more explicit direction to have Connie help Steven understand the Diamonds as "strict parents," and a lot more emphasis on everyone realizing Rose had been inspired by THEM rather than them all following her.

White Diamond is presented here as if she thinks of Pink Diamond as a "daughter" (whom she now understands she has "lost"). There are notes on how the Diamonds have a responsibility to their children and should attend to it before just continuing to make more.

4.

One of the concept art images for the Off Colors features Rhodonite crouching by Padparadscha saying "Don't worry, I won't let them hurt you." It's very interesting because she DOES seem to protect Padparadscha in the show, but doesn't seem confident about it in her final version, even though it does seem like she'd be "programmed" to guard aristocratic Gems because of her Ruby and Pearl makeup. Cool.

5.

A "Crew Cameos" spread was included, which is of great interest to some of us who loved seeing the Crew insert themselves into the show. Not every SU Crew person who's been represented in a crowd was there, but this crowd included Amish Kumar, Kat Morris, Amanda Winterstein, Angie Wang, Lamar Abrams, Emily Walus, Mary Nash, Joe Johnston, Christy Cohen, Danny Cragg, Hilary Florido, Danny Hynes, Matt Burnett, Ben Levin, Elle Michalka.

6.

The official national flower of South Korea, Hibiscus syriacus, is the name of Pink Diamond's flower.

7.

One of Steven Sugar's comments about the silhouette difference between humans and Gems points out that humans have ears. This seems to be pretty good confirmation that they are not supposed to have ears, despite that sometimes we'll see ears drawn on them in some frames.

8.

Rose Quartz/Pink Diamond is characterized in this book as "self-hating" in a really interesting way, saying that because she believed she was not capable of compassion, she practically worshiped those who demonstrated that ability and thought they were so much better than her--which is described as "intoxicating" and resulted in others being drawn to her. How interesting is that!

9.

Timelines reveal that early plans for Pink Diamond's first Pearl originally had her getting destroyed by Pink during  a game, and then her destruction was rewritten as a punishment from the Diamonds after Pink Pearl defended Pink Diamond to the other Diamonds. They went back to the idea of her getting hurt by Pink for the final version, though the cracked face and control by White Diamond was not on the agenda until they started writing "Change Your Mind."

10.

The approximate ages of the major characters, based on emergence, are revealed on these timelines. It begins with a cracked-planet-looking graphic depicting four tiny Diamonds emerging at 20,000 years ago. Some suspicious "blacked out" redacting surrounds a long timeline tail that goes back before that, which may mean there are secrets they still don't want to reveal. But the dates go like this:

20,000 years ago: The Diamonds emerge.

11,000 years ago: Pearl is custom-made for Pink Diamond.

8,000 years ago: Sapphire emerges (on Homeworld).

6,000 years ago: Ruby emerges (on a colony).

5,750 years ago: Garnet is formed.

5,600 years ago: Lapis is poofed and put in the mirror.

5,200 years ago: Jasper emerges (on Earth).

5,050 years ago: The Cluster is planted.

5,000 years ago: Amethyst emerges (on Earth).

4,500 years ago: The Crystal Gems found Amethyst.

3,000 years ago: Peridot emerges (on Homeworld).

40 years ago: Pearl found Lapis's mirror at the Galaxy Warp.

And of course we know 14 years ago Steven is born!

11.

Originally the Diamonds were based on a quartet of themes: Love, Fear, Pride, and Sorrow. It got too complicated to keep and it was abandoned, with Pink's identification of "love" being described as "particularly outdated."

12.

Notes on a sketch say that Pearl was inspired to become bold and unashamed because Pink's questions drove her to have opinions, and it's said that Rose "fell in love" with her boldness.

13.

Rebecca tells the story of driving off a ridge and getting stuck in the desert, comparing this to Ruby's tumble during her Wild West adventure and using it as inspiration. She's told this story before but here it is in print. She also included the story about using the flowers from a friend's wedding to put in Ruby's hair.

14.

Rebecca describes having to "fight" notes she was given when it had to do with Ruby and Sapphire's relationship. One she describes as NOT fighting was for a signing card depicting Ruby and Sapphire dancing. It was called "too romantic" and she decided not to worry about it since it wasn't the actual show content.

She was also scolded over her book The Answer because the powers that be expected her to downplay that relationship. She always argued that queer youth deserved these things.

15.

Tom Herpich describes being inspired to name Blue Diamond's comb "Comby" because he was watching the news about Comey getting fired from the FBI. It's also a mineral-related term and I always assumed that reference was intentional, but maybe it's not and this is the only intended significance to Comby's name?

16.

Rainbow Quartz 2.0's design is not discussed, though the other two new Fusions from "Change Your Mind" (Sunstone and Obsidian) were. RQ2 has some sketches included, but no accompanying narrative in the text.

17.

A sheet of corrupted Gems and their healed selves is offered, though it doesn't appear to be final. The obelisk in "Serious Steven" is labeled Albite. The unnamed Worm Monster, Desert Glass, and Watermelon Tourmaline are included. An unnamed birdlike Gem represents the Big Bird monster from "Giant Woman." The crab monster from "Arcade Mania" is labeled Blue Chalcedony. The Tongue Monster is drawn uncorrupted but not named. The Flower Monster from "Back to the Kindergarten" is labeled Grossular Diopside or Titanite. The invisible monster from "Island Adventure" is labeled Moonstone. The Lighthouse Gem is labeled White Topaz. A form for Larimar that was used in "Change Your Mind" but changed in Future is there. The Slinker is listed as Chrysocolla. And the Crab Monster is listed as Aventurine.

On the next page, this is changed to Bixbite (as it was in Steven Universe Future), and we then also have Lace Amethyst, Blue Lace Agate, Crazy Lace Agate (Fusion), Ocean Jasper, the Mother Centipeetle Nephrite (Facet 413 Cabochon 12) and three other Nephrites, Angel Aura Quartz, a hooded Jasper, Zebra Jasper, Biggs Jasper, Watermelon Tourmaline (labeled as Fusion of Gem * Onion--huh?), Snowflake Obsidian, "Little" Larimar, and Orange Spodumene (who was the Worm).

18.

The Rhodonite side story would have been about the love story of a Ruby and a Pearl working for Morganite. Images of Morganite and her servants, unfused, are in the book. We do not get this additional information, but Rebecca said in a panel shortly before the book's release that Rhodonite's story would have been about finding out that she had been Rejuvenated 17 times because her components kept falling in love and needing to be reset.

19.

Referring to the Diamonds on one of the charts, Steven's perspective is "I can't believe I helped these" and then there's a censor bar. Welp.

20.

Some included art by Hilary Florido features Kevin with a souped-up Koala Princess car and another where Kevin is staring at himself in the mirror in front of an altar to himself.

21.

Rebecca's sweater collection is included in the Crew art.

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

[professortennant]

Hello! If you like either of these from the kissing prompts post, I’m partial to #8 (shoulder kiss) because Hannah’s got amazing arms and shoulders and #13 (goodbye kiss) because I’m a sucker for a little angst

this was gonna be a 5 times fic and i was gonna get both of these in here but then i finished 3 and like......couldn’t bring myself to write the angsty goodbye part so INSTEAD have like 2500 words of fluff and light angst

i.

The first time she takes him to the airport, his first season as AFC Richmond’s head coach is over and she has granted him a blissful two months of reprieve from paperwork and contract negotiations. 

(“Are you sure?” he’d asked, looking at her—really looking at her—to make sure she wasn’t putting on a front for him. “Because I can help. I mean, I’m not so hot with laptop thing or the math thing, but I’m pretty good with the people thing.”

“I know,” she’d said, patting his arm gently. “But I can handle it. Go be with your boy.”

He’d let out a little yip, pressed a kiss to her cheek and practically leapt and run out of her office, calling out over his shoulder, “You’re the best boss!”)

It’s a thirty minute drive from her home to his and another hour to Heathrow and Ted spends every last one of those minutes bouncing his leg and checking and re-checking his phone, pulling up the electronic boarding pass as if making sure today was the right day and time and—

“Ted, the plane isn’t going anywhere without you on it.”

“Right, right.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket, twisting in the passenger seat beside her. It felt too impersonal to send her drive to pick him up or to allow him to hire his own driver, not after the hell she’d put him through this season. It was the smallest of steps in her journey to earn back his trust (no matter how many times he’d told her she already had it). 

“Can I tell you something?”

“I sense you will no matter what I say.”

He’d just grinned at that, hands wringing nervously in his lap. “What if too much has changed? What if I get there and Henry and Michelle have formed their own little club that I’m just not part of anymore?”

“Oh, Ted,” she’d sighed, taking her eyes off the road for just a moment to look over at him in sympathy. “That’s—that’s just not going to happen.” 

“But what if I get there and I don’t fit?”

“Ted, I don’t think there’s anywhere on this planet that you don’t fit.” He’d blushed a little at that in an aw shucks way that she found entirely too endearing. She tried to remember her promise to herself: to be more open, to be more available. Right. She adjusted her hands on the steering wheel and flicked her gaze over to him once more, just to make sure he was still listening. “My father was a very successful businessman. He traveled all over the world and was always away from home. I missed him terribly, even if I knew he wasn’t leaving because he wanted to.”

“Not really helping, boss.”

“But,” she continued, glaring at him. “Whenever he came home, it was the best day of the year. He used to gather me up into his arms and swing me around in our front garden and tell me all the stories of the places he’d been to and it wiped away every moment of missing him once he was back. I never felt like he didn’t belong back home. Not once.”

The feeling of Ted’s hand settling atop of hers on the gear shift startled her and she looked down, took in the sight of his tan, calloused hand covering hers. She made the tight turn into the drop-off lane in the Heathrow Departures section of the car park. 

“Thanks, Rebecca. Really. I mean it.”

“Yes, well, family is hard.” And this was the part that would cost her, would hurt like hell. She threw on her hazards and put the car into park. “Ted, while you’re home, I-I want you to think about your position here at Richmond.”

He frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I pulled you away from your family to bring you here and I know things have changed for you, but if you need to leave, if you want to check if Wichita State will take you back while you’re home, I would understand.”

“Rebecca,” Ted said, a small smile on his face. He gripped her hand in his, tugged it into his lap and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in a soothing manner. “I told you already: You and me have got unfinished business here.”

“But, your fam—”

“I’m coming back.”

When he said it like that, firm and sure and like a promise, she couldn’t help but believe him, the reassurance settling something anxious in her chest, a fear that she didn’t know she was harboring.

He leaned across the console and for the second time in two weeks, pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to the curve of her cheek, his mustache tickling her, before disappearing just as quickly, sliding out the car and ducking back in for a moment to tell her goodbye. “Thanks again for the ride.” He winked at her and then, “See you in two months.”

(About ten hours later, in the middle of the night, she received a text message from Ted: a picture of Ted and Henry in the front yard, Ted’s arms wrapped tightly around the little boy, their heads thrown back and laughing. The picture was blurred enough for her to tell that they were in motion. Ted’s accompanying message read: Thanks for the advice, boss.

She pressed the little heart reaction on each of the messages, just as Sam had shown her last week .)

ii.

 Between the start of the Championship League and Christmas, things had changed around the AFC Richmond clubhouse. Roy now wore a coach’s jacket and lanyard, scowling his way up and down the football pitch. Keeley sported a shiny ring on her left hand and a new title as Richmond’s Media and PR Director. Beard and Nate spent every waking moment attending matches across the country, absorbing the strengths and weaknesses of their opponents and working on ways to incorporate new strategies into their own game.

And over weekends spent exploring the winding cobblestone paths of London’s markets, ducking into older-than-Shakespeare bookshops together and weekends spent cooking barbecue and walking through parks, Ted and Rebecca had found somewhere along the way that they meant more to each other than just boss and gaffer, than just friends.

(He’d always assumed when it happened—if it happened—it would be in a rush of emotion after a big game or in quiet, shared comfort after a loss. But it had nothing to do with AFC Richmond, they came together on their own over a shared love of yellowed paperbacks and the bit of latte foam in his mustache and her gentle, exasperation with him, thumb swiping over his top lip and—and then her mouth on his, his hands on her hip and cradling her face, a murmured, “Finally,” against her lips.)

But tonight is Ted’s last night in London for a week, closing the gap between Boxing Day and the first week of the near year in Kansas City with Henry. They’d fallen into a devastatingly easy intimacy, one she knew she would never recover from. His flat was all but vacant now, most of his clothes and books mixed up with hers—his stack of adventure books and motivational, leadership workbooks on his side of the bed and her stack of mystery novels and Sudoku puzzles on hers, his open jar of peanut butter on her kitchen counter and her sheets smelling of his body wash.

Tonight, they sit up in bed, the soft, yellow light of their bedside lamps allowing them both to read in bed together, glasses perched on the ends of their noses. Beneath the bedsheets, Ted’s toes wiggle excitedly. 

“I don’t know how I’m gonna sleep,” he tells her, dogearing his page and putting the book away, rolling onto his side to face Rebecca. “Feels like Christmas all over again. Two Christmases, Rebecca.” 

She looks at him over the rim of her glasses, smiling ruefully at him. “You better sleep tonight or the jet lag will kill you.”

“So wise,” he teases, leaning over to press a soft kiss to her exposed shoulders. She sighed, and kissed the top of his head before returning back to her book. But Ted didn’t roll back to his side of the bed, instead tracing his fingertips along the hem of her pajama top, lips pressing once more to her shoulders, open-mouthed and enticing.

“Ted,” she warns, voice low and breathy. “What do you think you’re doing?”

His hand slides against her belly, creeping up to cup her breasts and thumb at her nipple while his mouth works over the curve of her shoulder and to her neck, nuzzling against her and encouraging her to tilt her head back to allow him better access. 

“I just thought of a very, very good way to tire myself out and get a good night’s sleep.”

“Oh did you?” She scratched her nails down his back and into his hair, holding his mouth to the place on her neck that made her legs feel like jelly.

He hummed against her skin, reaching blindly for her book to toss it off the bed and settle atop her, mouth working on the underside of her jaw and then to her mouth, kissing her hungrily.

“A week apart, Rebecca,” he gasps against her mouth, pressing his hips against hers and grinding down. “That seems an awful long time.”

She loops her arms around his neck and one leg hitches around his hips, bringing their bodies closer. “A week and then you’re coming back, right?”

She hates that she still has to ask, hates that she needs the reassurance, hates that she is terrified he will leave her behind irreparably broken.

His face softens and he traces a fingertip over her brow and nose and kisses her softly. “Coupon for life, remember, young lady? I ain’t goin’ anywhere without you.”

She presses her forehead to his and breathes him in, tightens her hold on him for a moment and memorizes the feel of him against her. And then he moves against her and it’s a rush of frenzied touches, gasps and moans, slick skin and hurried, whispered assurances. 

When she drops him off at the airport, this time with a soft kiss, and watches him disappear into the sliding double doors of Heathrow, she remembers his words: I’m coming back.

iii.

Their first fight involves raised voices and snappy words and a level of miscommunication that would make Keeley feel ashamed. It starts with a bad day for both of them—frustrating lawyers dragging their feet on salary re-negotiations and a string of vapid, mind numbing conference calls for Rebecca and a team of unmotivated, surly footballers for Ted, in-fighting and dirty scrimmage play making his blood boil. It ends with Rebecca snapping at Ted for not loading the dishwasher properly and Ted accusing her of micromanaging.

“You know what,” he growls, barely keeping a lid on his temper, can feel himself spiraling out of control. “You once told me to leave before I say something I regret and I think I better just do that.”

“Good! Go!”

She watches with a heaving chest and pounding heart as he collects his AFC Richmond puffer jacket, steps into one of his many pairs of Nikes, and storms out the front door into the evening and away from her. 

The moment his form disappears from view, her face crumples and she collapses into the kitchen chair, face buried in her shaking hands. As far as fights went, it certainly wasn’t the worst she’d ever had, her mind helpfully supplying her with flashes of the knockout-dragout fights she and Rupert had frequently engaged in, the cruelty and worst of each of them always sneaking out. 

But cruelty wasn’t in Ted’s bones and it wasn’t in hers either. She didn’t want to fight and she didn’t want to go to bed alone and angry, not after nearly a year of sleeping next to Ted every night.

She sent him a quick text: I’m sorry. Bad day at the office and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Come back home and we can talk about this.

But no response comes and all she can do is wait, pacing the front hallway, cleaning and cleaning and cleaning the kitchen. She sticks her finger into his peanut butter jar and hopes the sticky substance will help hold her heart together until he comes home. 

Maybe she’d always expected it would come to this—her ruining them, driving him away, just as Rupert had said she’d done to him. 

Not enough, Rebecca. You’re just…not enough for me.

But, she reminds herself, Ted is not Rupert. She and Ted are not she and Rupert. He’ll come back, they’ll fix this, it’ll be fine. Her head repeats it over and over again like a mantra, but her heart is stubborn and frozen in paralyzing fear.

Twenty minutes go by.

Thirty.

Forty. 

An hour later, she picks up her phone, checks it again but there are no messages from him, no indication that he’s coming back. A small, desperate sob slips out from the back of her throat and she presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, willing the sting of tears away.

The sound of the front door opening startles her and before she can rush into the hallway to see if it’s him, Ted stands in the sitting room before her, brambles in his hair. 

“I, uh, got a little lost walking around, got stuck in my head. And, you know, the streets look a lot different at night, so—”

But she doesn’t care if he wandered into a bush or hitchhiked home with an aardvark or whatever ridiculous adventure he’s been on in the last hour, he’s home.

She stands, throws her arms around his neck and shoulders, presses herself against him and buries her face in his neck. “I’m sorry,” she gasps into his skin. “I’m sorry.”

He shushes and soothes her, rubs his palm over her back and up over her head, slipping his fingers into her hair and stroking over and over again. “Hey, hey, none of this, okay? I’m sorry, alright? But we got through our first big fight, right? We’re okay, we’re okay.”

She holds him tighter, turns her head to kiss his neck and cheek and jaw and lips. “I was so worried you weren’t going to—” But she can’t even finish the worry, ashamed she even doubted him, some fears too deeply ingrained. 

Ted cradles her face, rubs his thumb over the curve of her cheek. “I told you, sweetheart, you got me for life. You got your listening ears on?” He reaches up to tug gently on her ears, making her smile. “Okay good, listen up: I will always come back. For as long as you want me, you got me.”

“Okay,” she sighs, turns her head into his palm and kisses the center of his hand. “Okay.”

[satuguro]

connections | prologue

IN WHICH: zuko and azula are expected to gain the trust of an earth kingdom city governor. the mission seems easy enough, that is, until the governor’s daughter comes into play.

PAIRING: zuko x earthbender! reader

INSPIRED BY: soldier, poet, king — the oh hellos, ophelia — the lumineers

NOTES: i’m not too sure about this one, and i kind of wrote this in the middle of the night when a strike of inspiration hit. i mixed some japanese culture with some filipino culture (i am filipino, so i had to ). nonetheless, i hope you enjoy!

his father gave him specific instructions prior to his arrival to hanusaka, an earth kingdom city.

zuko was expected to gain the trust of the family that ruled over the city; the hisui family. at the time he was given his ‘mission,’ zuko was apprehensive. why would the family trust them? they practically destroyed every earth kingdom village in their path, they’ve massacred thousands, and they’ve burned everything to the ground. zuko never once voiced his thoughts — his scar was a reminder of what would happen if he argued — but in his mind, he reminded himself that it was for good reason. he had his honor. now he had to act upon it.

the kingdom of hanusaka was beautiful. it stayed true to its name; flowers flourished from every corner, and floral trees hung heavily over its inhabitants. their deep green clothes contrasted with the bright colors of the flowers around them. they looked happy and content with their lives.

zuko stood stiffly alongside azula, wary eyes watching the citizens dance in the town square. their danced were different compared to the fire nation’s. their dance incorporated two long pieces of bamboo that was held by a person on each end. the people holding the bamboo were beating, tapping, and sliding the bamboo to the beat of the music while people of all ages danced upon them. it was mesmerizing how their feet missed the bamboo as the sticks came together, and how the flower petals on the ground floated with each movement.

they stood in the sidelines, aware of the looks the other earth kingdom citizens gave them. they were looking at them with unreadable expressions on their faces, but said nothing about their fire nation clothes. all zuko knew was that they weren’t welcome.

“it’s disgusting,” azula commented, flicking a flower petal off of her clothes. they had been only observing for 15 minutes before her boredom got to her. “i don’t understand why we have to endure the presence of these... people,” she spat, “we should’ve just burned this place to the ground. it would be quicker.”

“father wanted us to do this,” zuko hissed, glaring at his sister. he could feel his anger rising at the mere mention of burning the town to the ground, and he returned his gaze to the dancing people. their clothes flowed freely in the wind, making the petals around them float up high above their heads. they looked so peaceful.

he watched, his interest peaking as a hooded figure appeared from the shadows opposite of him. your bow and arrows were on your back, your movements mysterious as you slowly made your way into the crowd. you were blind to his gaze as you pulled your hood down, revealing your gleaming green eyes. people cheered around you, and one woman even placed a crown of intricately bended bamboo atop your head. you gave her a hug and grabbed her hand to join the dance in front of you, jumping in as if it was second nature.

“prince zuko, princess azula.” one of their guards greeted behind them, making them turn around. he bowed quickly, fear striking his heart at their cold looks. “governor akio has agreed to meet with you.”

┈┈ 𑁍༅ཾ༚ ┈┈

the hisui palace — though azula commented that it was barely a palace — was situated near the outskirts of the city, and was surrounded by deep forests that seemed to go on for miles. it stood tall, and would’ve sent a feeling of impending doom if it weren’t for the vines that climbed its walls, blooming various flowers.

“some palace,” azula snorted, crossing her arms and taking a second to star at the mansion as a whole. she raised her hand to catch a flower that had fallen from the trees above. her fingers were gentle agains the petals before she engulfed it in blue flames, letting the ashes float to the ground.

zuko rolled his eyes at her antics, choosing to walk ahead and into the mansion. the guards in front of the door looked at him with scowls, and a small prt of zuko wanted to call it quits and return home. they weren’t welcome here. they had caused these people so much pain; why would they ever take them in?

his guards marched up behind him, one of them stepping forward and conversing quietly with the earth kingdom guard. reluctantly, he opened the doors to the mansion.

the doors creaked as the guards opened them, revealing more guards that were standing in the halls. they were tense, ready for any battle that was coming along with the presence of the children of the firelord. zuko only kept his head up, hearing azula catch up with him and walk alongside him. the throne room was right in front of the entrance, and they walked confidently into it.

governor akio sat atop his throne, his strongest guards by his side as he stared down at the prince and princess. one smaller, empty throne stood next to his. it was a wonder that he agreed to meet them and take them in for a few months. it was upon the firelord’s request — of rather, demand — that they’d stay and create a connection between them and the fire nation. governor akio knew better than to argue.

“prince zuko, princess azula,” governor akio greeted, not moving from his seat on the throne. his eyes snapped to the empty throne beside him, expressionless face showing hints of anger that disappeared as soon as they showed.

zuko bowed, showing his respect, while azula simply stood in front of the king. her eyes glinted with something he couldn’t pinpoint, and she was looking him up and down as if sizing him up. zuko resisted the urge to hit her.

“father said we will be staying for three months,” zuko said, standing up straight as he stared at the governor. he was no king, but hanusaka was an influential city with history that tied all the way to the earth king. he knew his father had deeper plans for their stay. “to create a strong connection between hanusaka and the fire nation.”

“ah,” governor akio nodded, shoulders relaxed despite the obvious pressure on them. he showed no hesitancy; he was a wise man, for he knew that hesitancy would give the fire lord a reason to distrust him. “i’m sure you will enjoy your stay in hanusaka. my daughter...” his voice trailed off, his gaze suddenly pulled to the entrance of the throne room. governor akio’s lack of eye contact made the two teenagers turn around.

zuko recognized you.

you had been dancing in town square moments prior to this meeting. the crown of bamboo was still on your head, and you wore it proudly as you quickly detangled your hair from the flowers that were stuck in them. little flower petals followed you as you walked past zuko and azula, showing little care for their presence. your carelessness made azula curl her fingers into fists.

you were barefoot, but you still walked with poise as you led yourself to your throne. you removed your bow and arrows from your back, placing it on the side of your throne as you finally took a seat. you met your father’s angry glare, but you only managed a close lipped smile. “father,” you stated, before looking at the two teenagers in front of you.

azula was practically fuming at the uninterested look you gave them both, but her reactions only made your lips curl up into an amused smirk. “prince zuko and princess azula,” you drawled, leaning in and putting your elbows on your knees. “to what do we owe the pleasure?” you asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“y/n,” governor akio scolded, and you rolled your eyes at his sternness. you knew that they were coming. he had told you when he first received the messenger hawk from the firelord, and you immediately told him it was a bad idea. there was something wrong.

“just asking questions,” you protested, raising your hands in playful surrender. your eyes lingered a little bit too long on prince zuko, your eyebrow raising as you got a good look at his scar. he only looked back at you with a cold expression. how ironic.

“this is my daughter,” governor akio sighed, motioning a hand towards you. “y/n.”

“nice to meet you, y/n,” azula spoke up, tone condescending as she sized up the girl. “such a bold choice for you to be barefoot. and to wear such a... homemade crown.”

zuko nudged his sister, but that didn’t deter her as she waited patiently for your reaction.

“my people made this crown, princess azula,” you replied, voice smooth like a stream of water. “as for my lack of shoes,” you glanced down at your feet, “it helps me with hunting. sometimes i like to do my own work instead of ordering people around. don’t you agree?”

your words made your father snap his head your way, brows furrowed to show his obvious disdain. “how many times must i tell you to not hunt?” he whispered harshly, before returning to the calm front he put up. “i apologize for my daughter’s words.”

your huffed in annoyance, putting your hands on the arms of your throne and standing up. “you know what? father, i’ll give them the tour of the house.” you grabbed your bow and arrow, sending your father a mischievous grin that made him let out a disappointed sigh. you made your way to the teens, oblivious to azula’s mad look as you motioned for them to follow you.

while zuko didn’t show it, he found you interesting. the way you walked around the mansion without a care, and how you greeted every single worker with a smile that they returned (that is, before they saw him and azula). you showed disrespect towards your father and azula, yet you treated everyone with kindness, no matter their place. it was odd.

it was nighttime when your tour reached its end. after you led azula to her room, it left you both alone. zuko hadn’t said a word throughout your ‘tour,’ unlike azula, who commented her dislike for everything.

“you’re real quiet,” you observed as you walked next to him. you had already labelled azula as the ‘crazy, angry sister,’ but you had yet to find anything for zuko. he was nothing but a peaceful shadow the entire time.

“you just talk a lot,” zuko couldn’t help but say, mentally hitting himself for his own words. but to his surprise, you only laughed.

“well, someone needs to keep the awkward silence away,” you said, walking backwards as you walked ahead of him. “i mean, would you rather have me give you a house tour without saying a word?”

zuko shook his head, the hair in front of his face swaying with his movements. “i suppose not,” he replied, making you nod your head.

“besides, you’re so quiet that someone has to keep the conversation flowing.” you came to a sudden stop, pausing in front of a large door. you quickly opened it, peering inside for a moment before opening it wider for zuko. “here’s your room.” you allowed him to walk inside, and you leaned against the doorway as you watched him inspect it.

the room had high ceilings, and vines that grew from a nearby plant scaled the walls all the way to the ceiling. the thick vines came down in a chandelier. zuko’s eyes looked up at it in wonder and awe. it wasn’t beautifully extravagant like the fire nation palace was. it had a certain enigma to it that made it beautiful, and zuko appreciated it more.

“my room is five doors down,” you said as you looked at your nails. “feel free to come over whenever you want someone to talk. just don’t burn me alive.” you pushed yourself off the doorway, sending him one last smile. this one was genuine, not like the smile you had given him and azula in the throne room. “good night, prince zuko.” with that, the door shut behind you.

zuko stared at where you once stood. “good night, y/n,” he said softly, before resorting to his bed.

┈┈ 𑁍༅ཾ༚ ┈┈

NOTES: thank you for reading! btw, i’m trying to correspond eye color to the elements, so i’m sorry if your eye color isn’t the same! please say whether i should continue this as a series or not, your input means the world <3

buy me a coffee here! any likes, reblogs, or donations are appreciated :)

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[collecting-stories]

Artwork - JJ Maybank

Request: Hey! I've read your entire masterlist 😶😬😂 I was wondering if you could do something with jj x reader and she's an artist. Idk I was painting and thought of it, maybe a paint fight or something

A/N: I incorporated the pandemic a little lol. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Eyes closed, JJ was laying on your bed, an old quilt stretched out underneath him. It was nearing the 100s outside but inside the air was kicked up and your fan was on, blowing cool air across the bed. JJ was on his back, shirt off, muscles tensing and then relaxing again each time that your brush ran cold paint over his tan skin.  

Quaratine had eaten up most of your summer plans but you had made an entire list of ‘at home’ things that you’d seen on pinterest and tiktok to occupy your time and naturally, you’d roped JJ into most of them. He’d made stickers with you and redecorated CD’s and painted your bedroom. Today’s activity was painting. It had started on regular canvas but had somehow moved to JJ’s back being used as the canvas.  

Bright yellow sunflowers, hints of blue in the background, covered JJ’s skin from the base of his neck to just above his swim trunks. You sat straddling him, a small paint brush in your hand as you finished the last few details. JJ whined at an especially ticklish swipe too close to his side and you bit your lip as he pressed his mouth into his arm to stop from making any more noise.

“I’m almost done.” You promised, careful of the wet paint on his back as you leaned forward to kiss the part of his shoulder that was decorated.  

“Good, I get to do your back after this.” JJ replied.  

“Uh...no.” You shook your head as you grabbed your phone off the bed beside you to take a picture of your handiwork. “I hate to break it to you babe but you aren’t exactly Picasso.”

“I’m assuming that’s some art dude.” JJ said, turning his head slightly, eyes still closed. He smiled like he knew you were taking a picture and you tapped your phone, the flash flickering over him for a second.  

“It is some art dude, yes.” You laughed, climbing off of him as carefully as possible, trying not to smudge your handiwork.  

“Yeah well I could totally paint better than him.” He replied. JJ got up off the bed, stretching his arms up over his head and you bit your lip watching him flex, the muscles in his abs tensing and then relaxing. The artwork on his back was beautiful but you’d argue that nothing compared to actually looking at him. JJ was his own artwork.

“Fine.”  

“Seriously?” He grinned.  

“Seriously. I’ll let you paint on my back.” You conceded, knowing it was pointless to argue. There was no way you had the will power or discipline to say no to any of JJ’s suggestions, even if that meant your back ended up looking like a three-year old’s finger-painting experiment.

“Alright, you know the drill...strip.”

You rolled your eyes at him but pulled your shirt off over your head. Your sports bra went next, dropping it beside the bed before you laid down, getting situated. “You know how lucky you are, you can just lay down you don’t have to like readjust your boobs so they’re not squashed.”  

“You could sit up,” JJ suggested, climbing on the bed, his knees settling on either side of your hips, “then I could paint and have a nice view at the same time.”  

Even with your eyes closed you could tell that JJ was no doubt looking at the mirrored closet door that sat across from the end of your bed. “I’ll stay laying down. You’ll see enough of me when I wash this off later.”

“Wash it off? Please you’ll be begging them to do a living art piece in the MoMa.” He replied. “That’s what it’s called right? The MoMa?”  

“Yeah...it’s called the MoMa.” You smiled knowing that he had remembered. God knows that you had sent him an onslaught of photos sneakily taken inside of the MoMa when you went up to New York with your mom last summer to look at art colleges in NYC.

The first brush of paint ran across your skin and you couldn’t help tensing, the coolness of it shocking you slightly. JJ’s free hand pressed into your back, just above your ass, thumb massaging your skin gently as he continued to paint.  

Your talent in art was as good as JJ’s was bad. While you were thinking of pursuing a degree in art and had been taking private lessons since you were ten, JJ could barely manage a stick figure. That didn’t matter though, whether he could actually draw or not he could appreciate your art. He was an antsy person by nature but he’d sat almost perfectly still for hours at a time for sketches. Everytime you took part in an art show, even if they were just small, local fairs, he got excited about it.  

“What are you painting?” You asked, trying to tilt your head to catch a peek at what colors he was using. You’d done sunflowers on his back because if anyone reminded you of the flower it was JJ. It helped that they were his favorite, something he’d mentioned in passing once when you first started dating. Followed defensively by ‘guys can like flowers too’ not that you had said anything to contradict that.

“You’ll see.”  

“It better not be a dick or something!”

“It’s not a dick! I’m a serious artist here and I am offended that you would even suggest that to me.” JJ replied, sounding offended.  

You hummed skeptically. JJ dipped his brush in the blue, mixing it around on the palette board with the white. It was messier than yours usually looked but he ignored it, running the brush over your back and smiling a little at the actual picture coming together.  

He took his time, just like you had, mixing different shades of blue and adding detail, shading, all the pieces of technique that he had watched you incorporate when you painted. When he was finally finished he grabbed his phone to take a picture, the same way you had taken his picture.  

“I think it looks fucking awesome, if I do say so myself.” He mused.  

“Can I see it or are you just gonna keep sitting on me?”  

“Tempting but...I’ll move.” He climbed off of you careful of the paint.  

You climbed off the bed, holding your arms in front of you as you turned to look in the mirror. JJ had painted waves across your back with a bright sun over your shoulder. You couldn’t help smiling at his handiwork, better than you’d thought it’d look but also, being islanders there was nothing the two of you loved more than the beach. It’d been there that you’d met and there that you’d had your first date.  

“I think you’re right, I might end up putting myself on display in the MoMa.” You said, looking over at your boyfriend and smiling.  

“Not to shabby huh? I’ll be stealing your scholarship soon.” He teased.  

“Oh definitely.”

“You know what we should get?” He asked, moving your art supplies off your bed and over to your desk to be washed later.

“What?” You asked, skeptical.

“Those edible paints.” He replied, “we could do some finger painting on each other.”

“Oh god you are...” You shook your head at him, already knowing where his mind was going. “You better buy me sheets to cover my bed...I’m not washing that shit out afterward.”  

“So that’s a yes.”

“Unbelievably, yes.”

-

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[quillandink333]

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part VI

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.4k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

By the time I was finally let into the crime scene the day after making my little forensic discovery, the sun had already come down to kiss the horizon. It had taken a great deal of stubborn persistence, but in the end, I had managed to convince the chief detective to grant me access by proving the effectiveness of my method.

As for the name of this method, I had decided to dub the chemical “luminol” due to its distinguishing chemiluminescence, as well as for the sake of succinctness.

Though the chief himself had taken to this well enough, there was yet another hurdle that I’d had to overcome. The estate’s residents. That process had been a bit more difficult, and delicate. At first, my adoptive family were, naturally, apprehensive to let me do as I wished. But when I gave them my solemn apologies and told them that this might allow me to make up for all I had done to hurt them, their trust in me seemed to have been somewhat restored. And I had no intention of letting them down again.

I had to admit, though, that being here on my own was more than a little bit strange. I’d done each one of my investigations side-by-side with my partner ever since I’d freed him from the psych ward and gotten him in with the force a year ago. Every time he wasn’t there to lend me his insights or hold onto something for me or put a hand on my shoulder if ever I got myself overly worked up was like the pang of being slapped across the face. But each of those times, I would straighten up and remind myself, “I’m doing this for him.”

According to Link, he’d found the key near the foot of the fireplace. And so that would be the first place I’d search.

But before I could begin, the parlour was bathed in harsh, orange light.

The officer charged with supervising me had his finger on the light switch. “Ah, actually, could you keep those off for me?” The man gave me an estranged look, but granted my request all the same. “Oh, and close the blinds for me while you’re at it, will you? Ta!”

Now that the room was dim, I’d more effectively simulated the conditions of my apartment that night.

With no further ado, I made my way toward the mantel. Its polished, stone surface couldn’t possibly have the ability to conceal any amount of blood, one might have thought. In which case, one would have been wrong. And my new formula was going to prove just that.

All it took were a couple of spritzes to cover the entire width of the mantelpiece. I waited. Then after a few seconds, the luminol set in, and I had my results.

On either end of the shelf, there was a statuette. These frog-like figures stood guard here as guardian deities to the Sheikah family, or so I’d been told as a seven-year-old. But now, the truth would be revealed to me that what they protected was not the family but a secret. And on the night of the murder, evidently, they’d failed to do even that much.

On the right-hand figurine’s forehead, there had appeared an array of fluorescent blue spots. They were shaped and positioned like fingerprints—a thumb, index, and middle, gripping the creature by its painted skull—but unlike fingerprints, they were completely filled in. I recalled dusting these statuettes for prints on the second or third day of official inspections, and I’d found nothing. The person who these bloody prints belonged to must have been wearing gloves at the time. The same method they’d used to leave no prints on Link’s revolver.

With caution, I aligned my fingers with the prints and gave the figurine an experimental wiggle. To my surprise, it wasn’t fixed to the mantel as I’d thought, but rather hinged to it. It tilted back, and underneath its feet, a small, round keyhole glowed orange in wait.

This was it. I took the unassumingly sized key from my pocket and dropped it into the hole, whereupon both key and keyhole went from orange to brilliant sky blue. A perfect fit.

I couldn’t believe my eyes with what occurred next.

When the key fell in place, the mantel itself split down the middle. Then the two halves began to shift independently away from one and other. As this was happening, the inner wall of the chimney had broken apart into individual rows of stone brick, which then swung backward into the wall.

The two halves of the mantelpiece, having scraped along all the way to either end of the fireplace, collapsed and folded down against its outer legs with a decisive klock. All of this had transpired in the span of just ten seconds.

Behind what had once existed in my mind as a solid, stone-brick wall, there was now a small, cylindrical hollow, just big enough for one or two people to stand inside. The floor of the hollow, beyond the hearth, bore the symbol of the Sheikahs and glowed with the same blue hue that had the key upon being returned to its home. I looked down and noticed the key in question on the floor, having fallen out when its side of the mantel had lain itself vertically.

When the mechanisms in the mantelpiece began stirring to life again, I realized I was on a time limit. With haste, I retrieved the key, placed it in one of my coat pockets, and entered the tiny room.

For several moments, nothing happened, save for the wall of the fireplace closing back up behind me. During these moments, I wondered, what purpose could this room possibly serve? There were no shelves or drawers or racks that one could use to hang one’s clothes on, and it was far too small to be used as storage.

Then all of a sudden, the floor began to lower, all by itself.

The farther and farther I descended into the depths of the unknown, the harder my heart pounded. Just how deep did this elevator go?

And for that matter, how in the world was it even going? The ceiling above me remained where it was, so pulleys were out of the question—and there were no gears or anything moving the floor downwards, from what I could tell.

My confusion turned to shock when the platform I was on defied gravity itself as it entered the chamber that seemed to be its destination.

“What in the blazes...?” I breathed aloud. I had half a mind to suspect that what I’d just witnessed was the result of paranormal influences. Of course, the Sheikah crest beneath my feet told me there had to be a scientific explanation as to how these endless technological mysteries operated. Auntie Purah was sure to know. Though, come to think of it, had she even been aware of the existence of this secret passage?

I now found myself at the start of some kind of corridor. The sound of my heels touching the floor as I stepped down from the levitating platform echoed in the darkness. The only sources of light came from the pulsing, blue runes lining the baseboards of the cold, polished walls, the similarly pulsing Sheikah insignia adorning the archway that marked the start of the hallway ahead, and the mounted sconces that, rather than fire, contained lightbulbs of the same blue that emitted no heat.

As enthrallingly curious as all this was, none of it was relevant. Right now, I was retracing what were likely the steps of the true killer. All I had was to keep moving forward.

But doing so was going to be far easier said than done. Not only was this place exceedingly dark, so much so that I could only just make out the edges of each wall, but it seemed to go on forever. The twists, turns, ups, and downs were so frequent that after five minutes, I hadn’t the slightest idea which way I was facing. The one bright side to it all was that there was only ever a single path forward to choose from.

But to make things worse, there were traps set up along the complete length of the labyrinth. Things like cameras, pressure plates, and even lasers, all of which were inventions that I and the general public were already familiar with, unlike that impossible “elevator” that I had discovered. One thing was for certain: whoever had carried the corpse of their victim through here had to have known their way around this place. For I was barely even able to get by without unwittingly tripping the alarm.

By the time I was finally nearing the end of my journey, and thoroughly drenched in an anxious sweat, I spotted something lying on the ground where a few stray rays of moonlight were seeping in from the outside.

Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a letter of sorts. It wasn’t until I examined the back of the envelope that I realized this wasn’t just any letter. It was addressed to none other than Impa Sheikah, and it bore no return address. Not only that, but it was stained with splotches of what appeared to be blood.

The sheets of parchment inside were old and yellowing, and the envelope had what looked to be the remnants of a broken wax seal on the flap. The letter itself was handwritten in the same elegant cursive in which the address had been written, with some kind of nib pen and ink. Aside from murder, whoever had sent this must have had a deep affinity for the old-fashioned.

“My dear friend,” it began.

“It is with great sadness in my heart that I am writing to you. The last time we spoke was far too long ago, but even so, I am afraid this will be one of the last times you shall ever hear from me. You see, I have held off on this for as long as possible, but you have forced my hand. I can no longer allow you to meddle in my affairs as you have been.

“I am certain that you are aware of this by now, but I have been keeping watch over you from the ashes of the afterlife for a number of years. I must say, you have done a fine job of raising my darling Zelda in my stead. She has grown into a fine, young lady thanks to your efforts. Though I admit, I do wonder if she has what it takes to ‘solve the mystery’ of which she has been so steadfast in her pursuit ever since my unfortunate, yet necessary, departure.

“The night grows late, and I find myself carrying on. This letter has strayed far from its original purpose. Allow me to get straight to the heart of the matter. Meet me in the secret garden on the twenty-first before daybreak. Surely I need not tell you what would happen if you were to decline this simple request of mine. You were once my nearest and dearest friend, after all, and to allow malice to fester between friends such as we would be a tragedy, to say the least.

“Please deliver my deepest and most heartfelt affections to the rest of the family.

“Yours faithfully, Hilda”

By the time my eyes had dragged themselves along the sweeping lines of the signature, by hands had started to shake so severely that I nearly couldn’t read what was written there. In fact, not just my hands, but my entire being was trembling out of control. I fell to my knees, the sheets of paper scattering in every direction.

Now I knew the reason why this writing had seemed so familiar. I’d used the very same to confirm the nonexistence of the tooth fairy at age five by writing “her” a note and analyzing “her” reply the next day.

My mother was alive. Not only that, but...

I rose to my feet so quickly, my head started pounding. But I paid no heed to it. All I could think in that moment was how impossible it was.

At the end of this long hallway, there was a small set of stairs leading up to a trapdoor, carved from the same stone-like material that made up the walls of the labyrinth. It was incredibly heavy, but it wasn’t locked. With a bit of effort, I managed to heave it open.

The scene into which I would then emerge would change my life forever.

I found myself in the middle of a section of the estate’s gardens that I had never seen before. Behind me was the garden wall that I was familiar with, but rather than the rest of it being properly walled off, it was lined with dwarf evergreens. Beyond those, however, the thicket of the woods seemed all but impassable.

At the centre of it all, there was a place where the flowers were trampled and wilting. From afar, these flowers appeared a deep red hue. But up close, they were white. Something else had turned them red.

Then it dawned on me—these were carnations. I looked around. The secret garden was fit to burst with carnations.

“I observe the world as I hide in a cage. In my youth, I am weak, but I gain strength with age. I both give life and take it away. When one tries to pluck me, I make them my prey. What am I?”

“A carnation.”

It was all flooding back to me. My mother’s fondness for the species, how she had been born on the streets, the great fire that had devoured City Hall, the uprising of the Yiga...

Everything I had been led to believe was a lie.

The head of the organization was my mother. And Auntie Impa had known it all along.

When I looked up toward the starless sky, it felt as though I were plummeting head first into its insatiable, black abyss. My lungs seized up, and I couldn’t breathe. My very soul, being pulled in two opposite directions, was doomed to be torn apart.

Then the clouds parted, and behind a veil of shadow, the full moon was revealed.

The phantom of a hand belonging to the boy I called Link came to rest upon my shoulder. It was soft and nostalgic, in tandem with the frail light of the moon. I felt my chest brimming over with a courage most profound. At that moment, I harboured not even a wisp of fear for whatever it was that lay ahead of me.

[cordria]

Corruption

Danny had a strange home life. He knew that. He accepted it. At some point over the last two years, he’d decided it was a Defining Personality Trait and just rolled with it, incorporating it into just about everything he did and each joke he made. 

When he got home after a long day of school, Danny always had a wide range of expectations from his parents. He expected to be hugged and given a warm welcome along with a fudgy snack. Or perhaps to be doomed and threatened with dissection. Or perhaps to be dragged off to hunt a ‘ghost’ that only had a 25% chance of existing in the name of ‘family time’. Or perhaps to be hunted himself, captured, and stuck in a containment device. 

One would think, with that sort of mindset, that Danny couldn’t possibly be surprised when he walked through his back door. 

One would be very, very wrong.

“Tech-”, Danny cut off the blurted name at the sight of his mother sitting at the kitchen table with (of all the ghosts) Technus, freezing halfway into the kitchen. “Ghost!” 

“Hello child,” Technus greeted.

“Danny,” his mother said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, apparently unwilling to take her eyes off the ghost. “This is Technus. We’re having a chat.”

Danny stood, mouth open, trying desperately to figure out what was going on. Technus seemed relaxed, more lounging in the air than sitting in a chair. His mother was attentive, a rather large weapon sitting next to her hand, but it was off and she wasn’t holding it. She didn’t appear to be afraid, or being held against her will. They appeared to be having a conversation. Based on the cup in Technus’s hand, they almost appeared to be having a chat over coffee. “What’s going on?” he finally asked.

“Technus was possessing our server,” Maddie said pleasantly. “I removed him, and in the course of beginning to dissect him, he managed to give me a few reasons to leave him in one piece.”

“He is good at talking,” Danny muttered and took a few steps in the kitchen, letting the door fall shut behind him. He dropped his backpack on the ground and mentally apologized to Sam for not getting his homework done as he had promised. She’d understand. Probably.

Technus waved his cup. “And she offered me this wonderful drink while we talked! It is, how you say, the bees knees.”

Danny arched an eyebrow. “Sure,” he said, walking over to the table. It was covered in glowing paper. The glowing was odd, even for paper from FentonWorks. “What are you talking about?”

“Technus supposedly ran away from the ghost zone because of a glitch. A bug in the system.” Maddie tapped the paper, still keeping an eye on Technus. “It’s honestly quite interesting, looking at the ghost zone through the senses of a computer ghost.”

“What’s interesting about it?” Danny didn’t need to use his eyes to keep track of Technus; the ghost was a spot of cold in his brain. He picked up a piece of paper and studied it. It… was gibberish. Definitely English, because he could see words he understood. His forehead wrinkled.

“He sees his world as a sort of computer, complete with codes and an operating system.” Her smile was thin and stressed, but Danny could see the interest sparkling in her eyes. “Technus was able to provide me a copy of some of that coding.”

Danny nodded, the gibberish making more sense. It did look something like he imagined computer code would look. “Neat, I guess.”

“Very,” Maddie said. “Unfortunately, I don’t know much about computer coding.”

“Tucker does,” Danny said before he thought through the response, then froze. 

Technus’s eyes lit up. “That’s true! The child with the hat. He would be able to help! Locate him for us,” he demanded.

“No,” Maddie cut in. “I’m not involving children in-”

Danny reached over and rested his hand on his mother’s shoulder, sending a tendril of energy through her. The woman froze in place, hands halfway through a gesture. He was relatively sure she wouldn’t be able to see or hear what was going on, half-possessed like this. He glared at the ghost. “What’s really going on, Technus?”

“A glitch,” the ghost said, setting down his cup. “A file has gotten corrupted.”

“The ghost zone,” Danny said flatly, “has a glitch.”

Technus leaned forwards, his eyes narrowing. “I am a master of technology, child. I know a glitch when I see one.”

Danny leaned forwards too, careful to keep his hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Prove it. Prove this isn’t just some stupid scheme.”

Technus seemed to fluff up like an angry chicken, his form growing slightly. “I… I…” he hesitated. Then deflated. “I cannot. It is not something you would see.”

“And so you just want me to believe you.”

The ghost shifted through the papers. “It is here,” he said, sounding almost manic. “I know it’s here. It will spread if we don’t catch it. It will infect other systems. It will bring down the whole world-”

“This sounds like a great way to avoid being dissected,” Danny said, “but the ghost zone doesn’t really have a code-”

“Not for you!” Technus snapped. Electricity zapped between the ghost’s flyaway hairs. “To you, the ghost world is a place full of heroes and villains, of adventures to be undertaken, of mysteries to be solved. That is you. And I do not tell you otherwise, because it is true for you. To me, the ghost world is the most complex and beautiful piece of coding, a computer of incredible power, so intricate…” He trailed off, slowly picking up the papers and sorting them into a stack. “To see it broken this way... I know it’s here. I know it’s here,” he whispered. “But you would never see it.”

Danny was quiet, letting Technus collect the papers, wondering if he should believe the ghost or not. “You’ve tried to hurt us too many times, Technus. I’m not involving Tucker unless you can prove to me what you’re talking about.”

“You’ll doom both our worlds because I’m a villain and can’t be trusted,” Technus said. 

“I’m not the one that’s tried to take over the human world eight times,” Danny shot back. “Excuse me for noticing the pattern.”

The ghost’s odd black eyes gleamed. “I… Yes.” He fell silent.

Danny let the silence settle in the kitchen for a long minute. “Well?”

“I am thinking.” Technus picked up a few more pages, running his fingers along the edges. Then he scowled and shook his head. “I cannot. I cannot show you a computer glitch!” 

“Then you belong back in the ghost zone,” Danny said. Light cascaded around him as he switched to Phantom, still keeping his grasp on his mother’s shoulder. “You want to go yourself, or should I escort you?”

“Always the hero,” Technus shot back, snatching the rest of his papers and holding them to his chest. “Always… the…” he trailed off, eyes narrowing, head tipping to the side and a smile appearing on his face.

“What?” Danny asked.

Technus very slowly set down the stack of glowing papers, flicking the top gently to remove a wrinkle. Then he pushed back from the table and raised his hands. Energy flickered around him, his attitude suddenly changing. “You have caught me, halfing. I, Technus, master of all things mechanical and beeping, was planning to destroy this world!” 

Danny tensed.

The ghost dove forwards, snagged Maddie from her seat, and dragged her through the floor. Danny was a beat too slow to stop him. “Hey!” he yelled, more than a little bit relieved that Technus was finally showing his true colors, and followed. He caught a glimpse of them disappearing through the portal, the echo of his mother’s shout of surprise as she came out of the semi-possession to find herself in Technus’s grasp.

The ghost zone flickered into view as Danny dove through the portal as well, chasing them. “Give her back!” he shouted, putting on some extra speed as the energy of this world started to course through him. 

“I will not!” Technus shouted over his shoulder. Then a loud, “Ouch!” as one of Maddie’s feet landed a hard kick. “Stop that!”

Danny couldn’t risk blasting Technus - at this speed and with their erratic flight patterns, he’d hit his mother just as often as he’d hit the ghost. He clenched his fingers, scowled, and kicked up the speed again. He was gaining. 

Of course, once he’d gotten his mother back, he had no idea how he’d get her home again without some serious injury to himself. Perhaps he could possess her, like he’d done to Valerie, and get her home that way.

Technus suddenly drew up short.

Danny’s teeth ground together and he formed a blast in his hands. With the ghost holding still, his aim was good enough that- 

He stopped. “What the hell?” he whispered, drawing up next to Technus and his mother - who was kicking and swearing up a storm, dangling from Technus’s arms. Ahead of them, the ghost zone was crawling in glowing red bugs. The bugs seemed to be eating everything they could touch. Danny let the blast fade away.

“The glitch,” Technus said. “What do you see, hero? A quest to complete? A villain to be defeated?” Then he yelped in pain. 

Danny glanced down to see his mother dropping like a stone. He dove after her.

“She bit me!” Technus screamed above him. 

He rather quickly caught up to her, but instead of instantly grabbing her, he fell alongside her for a moment. The last few times they’d met on a ghost hunt, she’d refrained from shooting him on sight. Perhaps he was winning the personality battle. “Need some help?” he asked, going for a cheeky grin.

She scowled at him.

“I can give you a lift home,” he offered, reaching for her hand.

She jerked it out of his grasp. “I don’t trust ghosts,” she snapped.

Danny shrugged, not letting the smile fade. “You can just keep falling, then. No skin off my back.” He rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head, still keeping pace with her. “I think your son’d like you to come home, though. He looked a bit distraught when I passed by.”

He watched Maddie’s scowl twitch. “How did you follow me so fast, anyways? Were you spying on me?” she demanded.

“You were offering an evil ghost coffee at your kitchen table,” Danny shot back. “I wasn’t spying so much as paying attention.” He waited a beat. “Ride home?”

She slowly held out a hand. 

Danny snagged it and brought her fall to a stop, then pulled her back upwards. Coming to a stop next to Technus and letting his mother dangle from his hands, Danny studied the bugs that were infesting this section of the zone. Everything they touched turned that same color of toxic red. “That doesn’t look like a computer glitch,” Danny said after a moment.

“Not to you, of course,” Technus said with a dramatic roll of his eyes, still studying his bitten hand. “Do you believe me now?”

“I believe there’s something wrong, but I’m not convinced it’s a computer glitch,” Danny muttered. He started to drift closer to the bugs, wanting to see them a bit better.

Technus grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t get too close. It will corrupt you too.”

“It’s just a bug,” Danny argued, shaking off the hand. But he stayed back. 

“Watch,” Technus said, grabbing a floating rock and tossing it towards the bugs. When it was several feet away, the bugs swarmed upwards, attacking the rock. “It’s like a virus.”

Danny was quiet. Then he glanced down at his mother, who was staring at the bugs in wide-eyed fascination. He turned back to Technus. “I’m still not sure why I should care.”

“It’ll keep spreading,” Technus said, “until it infects everything in this world. And when our world goes, so does the human world.” 

Danny narrowed his eyes, still not sure he trusted the ghost. But the ghost could certainly be counted on to act in his own self interest. “Yeah,” Danny said. “Perhaps we should stop it then.” He studied the bugs. “Any idea how?”

“I might have an idea,” Maddie said, looking up at them. Her eyes were narrowed, clearly not trusting the two of them. “Bring me back to my house.”

Danny headed back towards the portal, Technus close behind, and shook his head. Of all the things he expected when he walked in the door after school today, creating a world-saving team out of himself, his mother, and one of the ghost zone’s most annoying ghosts would not have been on the list.

[ordinaryschmuck]

My (Only) Problem with Ducktales Season 3 so far

So the third season of Ducktales is honestly pretty good so far. We got some more fan shout outs that still work if you don't get the joke, we got a great team of antagonists that are classic villains from the Disney Afternoon era, and the animation might just be the best it's ever been in the entire series. However, we're more than halfway through, and I can't help but think of something.

Season one was about Dewey, right? And season two was about Louie? So, given that it seems each season focuses on one of the triplets, that should mean that season three is about Huey, shouldn't it?

Well, if that's the case, then why doesn't it feel like it?

We're more than halfway through the season at this point, and it barely feels like Huey is the main focus. Out of thirteen episodes, there are only two where I say are about Huey. And to be fair, Dewey didn't have that many episodes in his season. And there are occasional moments that shine a light on Huey. But here's my issue:

There. Is. No. Goal.

Dewey may not have a lot of episodes that focus on him, but he still had the goal of finding out what happened to Della, even in episodes like "The Great Dime Chase" when his story was just a B plot. Then there's Louie, who had the goal of making Louie incorporated a success, which became a third of the main story in season two. So what's Huey's goal in season three?

The season was off on the right track by having the family find a journal full of lost mysteries not located by a Woodchuck explorer. However, so far, it seems like that's a goal for the whole family, rather than exclusively Huey. Plus, it doesn't seem like his character grows with each episode that focuses on him.

In season one, episodes reveal that Dewey is more than just a kid looking for attention...future episodes fail to remember that, but at least season one still tried. In season two, Louie began to find his place in the family and even learned about humility instead of being greedy. How is Huey supposed to grow? Is it to become a better Woodchuck? Maybe, but again, there are barely any episodes that focus on him being a Woodchuck. So is it to loosen up and accept that he can't prepare for everything? That definitely seems to be the case for the majority of episodes his in this season, but that also means Huey would have to relearn lessons he's already learned in previous episodes. Sure, Dewey and Louie have similar issues, but with their goal in each season in mind, it gives the idea that they still grew from their experiences. Huey doesn't have that.

This is something I couldn't help but think while watching this season of Ducktales. And who knows, maybe I'm overexaggerating, and I'm the only person who has this issue. Or, perhaps this season isn't about Huey, and it's about...someone else. I can't tell who, but it's a possibility. But this is still my issue with the current season, and I'm fully accepting if anybody is willing to discuss it to see if anybody else has the same problem.

As is, if season three is the season of Huey, then the writers may have failed in that regard.

[colorseeingchick]

Hey Can I ask for a self ship date pls ? I’m a 18yo girl who is 173 cm of chaos and my heart has been stolen by Kise Ryouta from KNB 😩.

We may be very different, he’s more of a warm and a social person while i’m cold in the clouds and ambiverted but his smile, his laugh and how he’s dedicated in basketball made me lose it. I find his whole personality interesting even the more cold and ugly parts of him and he has the pretty face for him too but i’m not the kind of person who can just fall for apparence. He have such a voice too 😳 He has that charming aura, playful but yet still lighthearted and funny. He being two-faced surprisingly don’t bother me that much somehow i understand from where hes coming from. I relate a lot to his overachiever and need to handle all things himself to the point of hurting. As a basketb fan i am also enamored w his way of playing, i gen think he is the best of gom he always do his best to the point of barely breathing and honestly i relate to this too when im into something i love. His quick learning abilities are hyper and i like how Kise try to be honest w himself. I like also the balance he have w masculine and feminine energy and don’t mind him being a dork. His relationship w others characters are gold too like w Aomine and i can see him showing me affection to my touch starved self and just general affection i lack in general even if i don’t say it. Also i can imagine a certain dynamic between us where no one is the lead of the couple but we’re on equal terms.

Now more about me i am an ENTP 8w7, I am independent, creative, honest, prideful and « generous » i don’t think that last one much but my close one describe me like this. I’m very curious, likes experimenting and new things. I am funny/sarcastic, playful and as it iam very memeable but surprisingly top student here who doesn’t behave like it at all both in class and just in general. My aesthetic is a weird mix of everything i love so i am both a tomboy, alt and a baddie somehow. I am into law and economics studies and can talk french, korean and spanish as i learn languages in my free time by myself. I do read, write, draw and listen to music, play all sort of games including sports, get on a walk from time to time, eat cuz food is delicious and just learn in general. I have kind of ✨trust issues ✨so i don’t have many friends. But you sure will have fun w me ! I don’t about chill i have some temper but sure im pretty cool and open minded ! In love i really am a mess, i’m easily flustered but act cool to hide it and because of that i look like someone confident and mysterious except i am not the first one and ugh im lowkey a tsundere so it’s difficult to assume my feelings. But i swear i try !

Thank you for reading me ! I hope i didn’t bother you much.

You didn't bother me at all hun! This was a lot of fun to write so I hope you enjoy :) I think I have a pretty fun date planned for you two if I do say so myself hehe.

Premise: Kise got to know you throughout high school, and saw you as different from his other fangirls. Even though it wasn’t basketball, you also stood out at the top of your class, making you noticeable to Kise. You were actually a good friend (a cute friend at that) and he decided that he wanted to take you on a date during your 3rd year (once the basketball season was over and he had time to make for you). Knowing how fun you are, he had the perfect plan.

As you look into the mirror to examine your outfit, your phone buzzes with the “I’m hereeee ;)” text. You’d decided to lean into your tomboy vibes, given that Kise told you to ‘get ready to do stuff,’ which was not very informative, but exciting nonetheless.

As you walk out, you’re greeted by the blonde man dressed handsome as ever, a dark long sleeve shirt with fitting jeans, his silver hoop shining as the sun starts to set.

“Ready Y/N-chi?” He asks you, smiling as he overdramatically offers his hand for you to grab.

“Ready as ever~” you say as you grab his hand. He pulls you close and winks, flustering you right from the start.

“If I remember correctly, you said something about this being the best date I ever go on?” You take your chance to poke fun at him as well.

“Oh honey, it will be.” You can see the way his eyes shine and his mischievous grin as he walks with a nice hop in his step, guiding you towards the train station.

The train ride was pleasant, his hands protectively on your shoulder and a mean glare on his pretty features when other men looked at you or got too close, but his face was calm as he comfortably bantered with you (you on the other hand were quite unbothered by it all). Once you finally arrived at your destination, you found yourself in the lively district of the city, flooded with restaurants and shops all open late night.

“I forgot how beautiful this area is at night!” You can’t help but say as you look at all the beautiful lights and architecture.

“I had to take a pretty girl to a pretty place, you know?” He squeezes your hand as he drags you along once again, until you end up at your destination.

“I think this’ll be a lot of fun,” he says to you as he pushes open the doors to the arcade, letting all the dark lights and glowing games illuminate your sight.

He buys the coins for you both to play (He’d asked prior if it’d be okay for him to pay for you this date, and you’d agreed), and you set off to play all sorts of games.

It was a lot of fun for the both of you. While the games were enjoyable, playing them with him made it all the better. He also never missed an opportunity to flirt with you, and playing games made it easy. Both of you being overachievers, with Kise being a quick learner and you being open to trying new things made the experience amazing.

“Here, stand like this and loosen your wrists up for a better shot.” you both were playing the basketball game, and to no surprise Kise had absolutely killed it. Now here he is, helping adjust your shot. Standing behind you, he lightly adjusts your waist, turning you a little bit to help your footing. His hands then move up to your shoulders, then down to your wrists, helping guide your form and placement on the ball. While you were learning from him, it was hard to focus with him this close to you. “Y/N-chi, you can focus on me later. You should focus on your shot for now.” He says lowly, teasingly, watching carefully as your face erupts into red. He really did love teasing you, the usually calm, collected, confident top student.

Admittedly, you feel like you got back at him when you watch him try the crane game (the ones filled with stuffed animals) and he couldn’t get it after 7 tries. The frustration was clear in his face, his impatience rising.

“This game is rigged, I know it!”

You ask to try and of course he complies. However, he’s not ready for you to get a cute little stuffed panda on your first try. Suddenly, he’s a lot more embarrassed than you were earlier.

“You definitely used magic or something.” His pout is both adorable and hilarious to you.

You laugh as you hand him the panda. “Here!”

Looking down at the panda and then looking back up at you, he asks, “for me? But you won it!”

“But I want you to have it. It’s cute like you, Kise-kun.”

A huge smile crosses his face as he pulls you into a hug, spinning you around. “Y/n-chi!!!! You’re so generous!! Giving me your stuffed panda~ I’ll take good care of it.”

You have a nice laugh as you watch Kise end the night out by playing Dance Dance Revolution, not afraid to be a bit flamboyant as he goes all out with the footwork and does really well at the game.

After collecting all your tickets, Kise takes you up to the rewards table, telling you that he knows exactly what he wants to get.

“And we have enough tickets for it! Great.”

You can’t help but smile when Kise points to the GIANT stuffed panda hanging on the wall.

“I thought you weren’t the type to return favors,” you recall what he said during a game with Seirin from a long while back.

He blushes, thinking about what he said. “I’m not, just one upping you,” he jokes, sticking his tongue out at you, letting you nudge him in return.

“Do you wanna get food, Y/N-chi?” He asks, his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“Sure, from where?”

“You decide. I decided on the arcade, you can decide dinner.” He looks at you with a smile, thinking back on how fun the whole night had been. “But I get to decide dinner next time.”

“Next time?” You shoot back, eyebrows raised, a smile forming on your face. “Who said I’d go out with you a next time?”

At your comment, his smile falters as he stares at you for a good second. He gets all serious suddenly, pulling you close (with a giant panda pressed into your side) and making you look into his eyes. “Y/N-chi, would you please go out with me again? Tell me you will!”

Giggling, you smile up at him. “Of course, Kise-kun.”

He sighs out and hums in approval, before pressing a small kiss onto your cheek. “Call me Ryouta.”

~~

Ahhh I hope you enjoyed it! I tried to incorporate as many elements as I could! Please do let me know what you think <3 this was so fun!!!!

[moonlightsanctuary]

The Librarian X Reader

here’s something for the peeps! :D *DISCLAMER* There will be smut! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED -.-

( also the spacing is really off so I apologize about that. Just make sure you scroll down all the way!)

@chaoticallywriting @darlingimmafangirl

You loved going to Republic city university library, always felt at home surrounded by books that offered you a sanctuary, away from life’s problems. It also gave you a chance to see her.

You didn’t know much about her when you first moved to Republic city but you were memorized by the way her beauty mark under her right eye made those brilliant pale green eyes stand out . You liked the way her sleek black hair was always pulled back into a tight bun. Though most people couldn’t pull it off at such a young age, she could. It was a natural look to her. She couldn’t have been much older than you, but she certainly acted like it. She held an authoritative posture and spoke with such professionalism that it rivaled many of the older faculty members.

When you first applied for your library card you stole a glance at her ID card hanging from her neck. Kuvira was her name. A name you never forgot, even months later. Oftentimes you came to study, but there were times you stole glances at her. It wasn’t something you could help. The way she projected herself always walking with such poise and grace was something that quickly caught your attention. Her tone was never condescending, always warm and welcoming whenever you required her assistance in searching for new reading recommendations or a book needed for class projects, she was always willing to help. It made her that much more unique and interesting, something you couldn’t help but admire. You found it odd that you were developing a crush on her but who wouldn’t she was clearly a breathtaking sight.

Though she spoke very little the times you did speak to her she always had something interesting to say whether it was newfound knowledge or a book recommendation. It was hard for you to tear your attention away from her.

One day you caught her off guard, engrossed in a romance novel that you couldn’t help but recognize. The author was one of your favorites, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the similarities and taste you both shared in books.

“That’s a really good book. What chapter are you on?” You asked.

Kuvira looked up to peer over at you with the book still in hand. Her pale green eyes watched you carefully through black square-framed glasses. “Beg your pardon?”

“The book that you’re reading. I read it before and it’s very good. I was just curious how far you’ve gotten”

Kuvira paused momentarily before realizing that you were referring to the book she held in her hands. “Oh, I didn’t think you were interested in Nora Roberts.”

“How could I not be? Her books are very good. I like how she writes the female characters. Though they struggle through their strife they always manage to find the will to fight through their problems.”

Kuvira took a moment, taking in your words before nodding in agreement. “I know it's a bit much, but she has a writing style that is very unique. I do like how she incorporates mysteries and suspense into her books.”

“True. My favorite book from her is a book called Sanctuary. I’m not sure if you ever read it.”

“Actually I have,” Kuvira answered, smirking. “Ironically it is also one of my favorites.”

“Well then, you obviously have good taste.”

It was then Kuvira smiled, a rarity in itself. You couldn’t help but notice the fluttering sensation you felt in your stomach. She was absolutely beautiful. You watched as she placed the book on the table and placed a marker into it. You wondered if It was out of embarrassment as Kuvira tried to hide the blush that was growing on her face.

“I should say the same about you. I actually have read some of the books you checked out previously, which is why I always recommend some to you. What brings you by today Y/N?” Kuvira said, changing the topic.

“I just wanted to use the library to study. I have a test coming up. Midterms to be exact.”

“I see. Well, you are always welcome to use one of the open tables unless you’re trying to check out a study room.”

“No, the table should be enough. Thank you.” You said offering a warm smile before turning to walk away. Once you settled in an open seat you stole a quick glance at Kuvira and noticed her watching you from afar her gaze fixated on you. You could feel your heartbeat quicken but managed to quell your feelings by dismissing it as coincidental and focused on studying, assuming that she had no interest in you in that way. However, you soon learned how wrong you were.

One evening, on a rainy day you came into the library soaked. Your shirt clung to you uncomfortably which caused it to outline your figure more. Exposing the fullness of your chest and waist. You cursed yourself for not wearing a jacket or bringing an umbrella. You approached the Librarian’s desk where Kuvira stood. Her gaze fixated on you with so much intensity you could feel yourself tremble. You questioned if it was from her gaze or the chill from being in wet clothes for too long, you couldn’t tell.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly

Kuvira continued to stare. Standing stiffly not seeming to hear you.

“Um… are you ok?” You asked, growing more nervous as she continued to stare.

You watched as she jerked back, her eyes blinking in confusion.

“Sorry?” Kuvira finally spoke, clearing her throat as a blush grew on her face.

“I was asking if you were ok.” You said watching Kuvira’s expression carefully.

“I should be asking you that, especially since you’re dripping water onto my carpet. Rough day?”

“More like a rough week. This is just a lovely addition to it.”

“You are aware it’s supposed to be raining for the rest of the week right? That typically happens when the season transitions into fall around here.”

“I wasn’t aware but then again I was too much in a rush to leave before even thinking about checking the weather or grabbing an umbrella.”

“ I see…” Kuvira regarded you a moment before turning on her heel and walking away towards her back office. After a few awkward minutes, she came out with a coat in tow. She placed it on the counter between the two of you and slid the coat towards you.

“Here, it’s a spare. Hopefully, it will help you get through the day.” Kuvira said gently, eyes full of compassion.

You stare dumbfounded at her, surprised at her kind gesture. It stirred those feelings again this time with much more intensity.

“Thank you.” You said quietly, appreciative of her kindness.

Kuvira smiled widely as she took in your expression. “Of course, flu season is upon us. I wouldn’t want you to get sick. You can return it to me when you’re finished with it.”

“I will, I promise.” You took a moment to put the jacket on, enjoying the warmth it immediately offered you. You held the collar tightly to your face, could even smell the Librarian’s scent on the coat. It smelled of pine and a hint of tea-tree. At that moment you prayed you weren’t blushing as you thanked Kuvira before turning away and heading towards your usual area to sit and study. You wondered if she was usually like that with everyone.

Your happiness was short-lived over the next few days as you went through a chain of unfortunate events. You ended up catching a cold that forced you to be bedridden for a few days. When you came back to school you entered your philosophy class and were greeted to a surprise pop quiz in which you ended up failing miserably. It didn’t help that your college professor blew it off as something that was your fault. You could feel the irritation and rage growing as he seemed to be accusing you of being irresponsible. What made it worse was his insinuation of you moonlighting with some student you met on campus and felt the need to bed him. It took every ounce of willpower not to punch him in the face. You had heard from the reviews that your professor could be rather sexist but didn’t know the extent of how far he could take it. You thought your grades were enough to validate that you were a hard-working student but to him, you were nothing more of a nuisance. That’s struck you deeply. Knowing full well that was far from the truth, but it wasn’t the first time you were mislabeled.

One of the passing sorority girls overheard your conversation with your professor. She stopped with her gaggle of handmaidens and laughed at you. You recalled her telling the professor that wasn’t true, how can someone as unattractive as you could possibly find anyone who would want to date let alone fuck you. If anybody decided to give you the time a day it was because they were very desperate. It was then you lost your temper, suppressing hot tears that threaten to fall as you rounded on the sorority group yelling that they had no room to talk since they probably fucked their way through half the campus by now, probably had STD’s still unknown to scientists, and were so loose that once age finally caught up to them they would be nothing more but leathery skin and bones that not even their stepdad want to fuck.

It was a bitter defeat as one of the girls stepped out and punched you hard in the face, causing your lip to bleed. Your Professor stood there laughing, doing absolutely nothing to help. What made you enraged was when you heard him say “you got what you deserved.” It was then you knew you were outmatched, that there was no way you could win this fight. So you did the best you could in that situation, you grabbed your bag and walked away. You tried to maintain your composure as you reached the door to the library. Swinging open the door, you rushed past Kuvira’s desk.

“Y/N? What happened to you?!?” Kuvira demanded, shocked at the state of your being.

You didn’t even realize that she had tried to get your attention. Kuvira watched in horror when she saw blood running down your lip as you stormed off. You opened the door to one of the study rooms and slammed it shut. You released a shaky sob as you let yourself fall into one of the chairs, dropping your arms on the table. You leaned forward resting your head on them. It was then you allowed yourself to fall apart. You couldn’t help the sobs that racked through your body, couldn’t control the cries of anguish echo through the room. Engrossed in your emotions you failed to realize the Librarian that stood at the small window of the door to the study room watching you cry. Kuvira watched your body shake and could hear your sobs through the closed door. She debated using her master key to unlock the door but didn’t want to invade. With a heavy sigh, she turned away from you and walked back to her desk.

After what felt like hours and the tears finally subsided, you collected yourself to where you felt comfortable enough to take your leave. Taking a quick glance at your phone to check the time you realized that the library had already closed. You were surprised Kuvira didn’t try to shoo you out. Swinging your bag over your shoulder you stood up to leave. You carefully opened the door, taking a moment to peek your head out to see if anybody was still there. The library was completely abandoned. No sounds...nothing…

When you realized the coast was clear you gently shut the door behind you and began walking towards the exit.

“I was wondering how long you were going to lock yourself there Y/N” A voice called out. You immediately recognized that voice. It caused you to cease your movements abruptly. You slowly turned around to find the Librarian standing directly behind you, pale green eyes locked on to yours. You noticed she wasn’t wearing her glasses. It made her gaze much more intimidating...

“Kuvira? I’m sorry I didn’t mean to keep you here so late.” You said ashamed, guilt began eating away at you.

“Y/N…” Kuvira trailed off, taking a step towards you.

A hand reached out and lifted your chin, tilting it to the side. Kuvira could see the dry blood from your busted lip. Something flashed in Kuvira's eye, her expression darkened. From what exactly, you didn’t know. You assumed it was because of your busted lip.

“Who did that to you?” Kuvira asked in a dangerously low tone that made you tremble.

“It’s nothing.” You said defensively. You fought back the tears that threatened to fall, causing your eyes to sting painfully.

“It obviously isn’t nothing.”

Kuvira said sharply, causing you to look away. You set your gaze to the floor.

Kuvira’s hand moved to your shoulder, squeezing it gently as she pulled you towards her. “Come with me.”

You obeyed as Kuvira led you up and around the check- out counter towards her office in the back. When you entered you were guided to a chair. Kuvira gestured for you to sit as she turned back to the door. The office was nice, the decor rather simple. There was a large desk in between you and an office chair that was pushed in behind the vacant desk. Two accent chairs sat on the other side. A laptop rested beside a neat stack of papers. Landscape paintings adorned the walls giving a room a cozy atmosphere. You heard the door click shut. You turned to watch Kuvira approach, rounding her desk. She opened her desk drawer pulling out a napkin and a bottle of water. She quietly folded the napkin into a neat square. She then opened up the water bottle placing the napkin at the lip of the bottle before flipping it over to wet the napkin. Once she was satisfied that it was wet enough she placed the water onto her desk before grabbing her office chair and pulling it from behind her desk. She set the chair in front of you, sat down, and settled into it.

“Here,” Kuvira said gently, taking hold of your face. She carefully placed the napkin on your lip, gently trailing down to wipe away the dried up blood. You couldn’t fight the waves of emotions that you felt, finding it increasingly hard to meet her gaze.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Kuvira asked. Her voice was much more gentle as she continued on with her ministrations.

You sighed deeply debating on whether or not to tell her the events from earlier that day that led you into her office as she finished, tossing the napkin into the waste bin beside her desk. Her hands still on your face, gently pushing away strands of hair behind your ears.

“What’s the point… it's not like it matters anyway.” You stated in a nonchalant tone.

“It does matter,” Kuvira said, her voice still gentle but held much more of a serious undertone. She let her hands fall away as she gripped her knees. “It’s my job to help students no matter what the situation may be. Especially when I find one of them barging into my library near tears and with a bloody lip that I know for a fact was not accidental.”

“Well then, you’re probably one of the only faculty members of this university’s pathetic excuse of what they call staff that actually cares. My professor didn’t even care when that girl socked me in the face when she interfered with a conversation she had no business getting involved in.” You said dryly, words coming out more bitter than you intended them to be.

“A professor witnessed this? What did they do? Surely they were at least reprimanded.”.

“HE didn’t do shit. That bastard did nothing but laughed when those girls cornered me.”

“What!” Kuvira said shocked, taking in a sharp breath to quell the anger she felt from this newfound information. “What is your professor’s name?”

“It’s fine, you probably don’t even know him. Besides, I do not wanna become more of a nuisance that people have already painted me out to be.”

“Try me. You’d be surprised how many people I am forced to interact with when my face isn’t glued to a book. I probably met this man at one of our weekly faculty meetings.”

“It’s okay, Kuvira. The last thing I want to do is to trouble you further with frivolous issues”

“Y/N,” Kuvira said, coming out more forceful than she intended.

Your eyes finally met her gaze, almost if challenging her. Your rising anger quickly dissipated as you took in her expression. Her face was hardened, you could see Kuvira’s jaw clenching tightly as suppressed anger flared in those pale green eyes, her gaze zeroed in on you with such intensity you knew that no matter how much you tried to stonewall her she was not going to let this go. She was going to get the answers she sought, by hook or by crook.

You sank into your seat, deciding to be honest to the one person who clearly proved that she had your best interest at hand. “His name is Professor Caldera.”

Anger flashed sharply across Kuvira’s face. “Did you say, Caldera?” She asked voice full of malice as her expression darkened.

Taken aback by her abrupt change in demeanor you tensed up, carefully answering her question. “Yes, do you know him?”

“Unfortunately I do, that man is the most disgusting, vulgar, perverted, piece of shit and sorry excuse of a human being. He loves to start drama and stir the pot with both faculty and students. I’ve sent so many complaints up to the board members from things I've witnessed and from others and they still haven’t got rid of him.”

“Well, he witnessed the whole ordeal. Actually, all this began because of him. It all started when he began accusing me of getting laid by some imaginary guy. A group of girls from the Alpha Delta pi sorority group overheard the conversation and said that if anyone wanted to bed me then they must be pretty desperate. I don’t even have a boyfriend and I haven’t been laid in god knows how long… So you know me being a smart ass and all I told them they probably fucked through half the campus, had STDs that we’re still unknown to scientists, and by the time old age caught up to them they would be so ragged and loose that not even their stepdad would want them.”

Kuvira bit down on her lip hard, trying her very best to suppress her laughter, but failed. She snickered loudly. She gathered her composure, drawing her hips into a tight smile. “Very well worded.”

“Glad you enjoyed it. The fist to my face wasn’t something I enjoyed though, but I guess I brought that on myself.”

“Y/N,” Kuvira said gently, her face full of compassion and empathy. “That was in no way your fault. Caldera had no right to talk to you like that. Neither did those bimbo sorry excuse of what we call sorority girls. I am sorry I wasn’t there to help but rest assured that I will be reporting this to the president, dean of the sorority group and will be giving a lengthy speech at the next board meeting. So please, put your trust in me and allow me to fix this.”

“I appreciate the help but don’t trouble yourself, it’s not worth the effort.” You said casting your eyes to the ground.

Strong hands took hold of yours, squeezing gently. “I am, and I will! No one should have to go through something like that. Especially somebody as hard-working, dedicated, and sweet as you.”

“I really do appreciate it. I just don’t want you wasting your time”

“You are not a waste of my time, actually if anything I enjoy having you around. You’re very funny, with excellent taste in music.”

“You know what I listen to?” You asked, surprised.

“Yes, I sometimes will screen monitor the computers to make sure that they are being used appropriately. You’d be surprised how many people think they can get away with watching porn in public.”

You chuckled nervously remembering the many obscene searches you had made on the library’s computer. The number of fanfics and erotic stores you read, praying that no one noticed made you wonder how much she actually knew.

“I don’t know about all that. I mean in a way the sorority girls are kinda right. They got the money, the clothes, the looks...I just have my books and my mind.”

“Hey Y/N, don’t listen to those girls… you are much more beautiful than they will ever be.”

“Am I really though?” You asked, challenging her response. “I mean I’m not dating anyone, I don’t have many friends and I’m a huge nerd. I don’t see how anyone could find me attractive. In a way, it doesn’t surprise me.

“There are more things in life that are much more fulfilling than to waste time trying to attract the attention of boys. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. Good looks will only get you so far and if there is one lesson those girls could learn from you is that you are correct. Their good looks will only last for so long before age does catch up with them. When that time comes, they will realize the mistakes they have made in life.”

“I just wish I felt that way...it’s just difficult… especially when everyone else tells you otherwise.” You said, turning your attention away from Kuvira.

Kuvira released you and abruptly stood up, pushing the chair away. She reached out and turned on the small lamp on her desk before walking towards the door. She turned off the lights to her office.

“I think you’re attractive…” Kuvira said so softly, her voice barely above a whisper. It made you wonder if you heard her correctly or if you were just imagining it. It made you turn your attention back to her.

You heard the clicking sound of the door lock sliding into place. She turned around slowly, eyes locked onto yours. The low light from the lamp made her eyes glow in such a way that was mesmerizing and breathtaking. Her expression darkened in a way that it stirred something deep inside you, bringing out fantasies you knew wouldn’t ever happen in your wildest dreams.

You chuckled awkwardly before deciding to dismiss what Kuvira had said as pity. “I appreciate the compliment but there’s no need to lie to make me feel better.“

“Who says I’m lying?” Kuvira asked, eyes watching you carefully as she approached you. You could feel your heartbeat heavily in your chest with every step she took.

“Come on. Seriously Kuvira, how can you? Just look at me.”

Kuvira stood directly in front of you, towering over you. Her eyes never left your face.

“I am,” Kuvira said in such a tone you felt your body stiffen.

She rounded your chair, coming to stand behind you as you felt her hands resting on your shoulders.

“I’ve been watching you for quite some time Y/N.”

Kuvira leaned down, inches away from your ear, feeling her hot breath tickling your ear as she whispered. “And I know you have been too.”

You release a soft whimper, feeling your body heat up. You didn’t think it was obvious that you secretly had a crush on Kuvira, but learned at that moment how wrong you were. Trying to gain the upper hand, you tried to feign innocence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about...” You said softly, your voice betrayed you coming out rather shaky that even you knew Kuvira would question the validity of your statement.

“Do you?” Kuvira whispered again, shifting slightly as she leaned into your other ear before continuing. “Because if watching me at a distance isn’t enough to convince me then maybe the trashy short stories that you’ve been writing and reading on the university’s computer is enough to tell me otherwise…”

Shit. You mentally cursed. Feeling the embarrassment gnawing at you as your face turned bright red. You had no idea she had seen them. How you wrote about her dark hair and pale green eyes. Wrote about the way her beauty mark made her hard features much softer, much more beautiful in your stories. How could you not? Kuvira was one of the reasons you always visited the library. You never thought she would find out.

“How?” You asked nervously, wondering if you could handle her response.

Kuvira chuckled before answering. “Because I see everything… I’ve been around long enough to know when someone has taken an interest in me romantically…”

Kuvira smoothed her hands slowly over your stiff shoulders before letting them fall away. She moved from behind the chair to stand in front of you, her hands coming up to grip the armrest of the chair you sat in trapping you in place as she leaned over, face inches away from yours.

Kuvira’s lust-filled eyes searched your face, slowly drifting over as her gaze fell upon your lips. She hesitated for a moment, appearing mentally conflicted, trying to decide what course of action she wanted to take. You bit your lip in anticipation, feeling yourself trembling with desire. You watched as Kuvira’s face darkened, her eyes grew more feral, fixated on your lips. Her hand reached out, tugging your lower lip free before coming up to cup your face.

“Don’t,” Kuvira whispered, her voice full of want. “It drives me insane when you do things like that.”

You let out a shaky breath at her admission. Growing heated at every passing second. You wondered if the temperature of the room was increasing or if it was just you. Nothing, absolutely nothing could prepare you the moment Kuvira crashed her lips onto yours, muffling your surprised gasp. Her kiss was rough, needy even, you couldn’t help but shutter. It was Kuvira who pulled away first, taking a moment to study your face for any signs of rejection. When she saw nothing but your flushed face, panting heavily, she rested her forehead against yours.

“Spirits Y/N, I’ve waited so long to do that.”

Before you could speak her lips were upon yours again, this time both hands coming up to cup your face. The tip of her tongue traced your lips, begging for entrance. You moaned softly, granting her wish. You felt her slip her tongue in seeking out yours. Kuvira couldn’t get enough of you. She enjoyed ravishing your mouth, she was so intoxicating, so divine, you couldn’t tell if any of this was real. You felt Kuvira’s hands settle on your waist, felt them slip underneath your shirt, slowly making their way up to your chest. You moaned into the kiss feeling strong hands cupping your breast, squeezing you gently. Kuvira loved how you fitted perfectly in her hands, loved how soft and silky smooth your skin felt under her palms. Kuvira nipped at your lower lip, using her teeth to snag your swollen lip, tugging at it gently. She trailed kisses down to your neck, there she sucked greedily at the skin. You cried out feeling Kuvira’s teeth sinking into your neck. She used her tongue to soothe the mark before peppering kisses over it, soothing the abused skin. Kuvira pulled away from you dropping onto her knees. Her hands seized your hips, pulling you closer to her as her fingers fumbled with the waistband of your pants. She managed to pry them open, dragging the zipper down. In sharp jerking movements, she pulled them down panties and all. You shifted so she could get them off easier. You watched as Kuvira removed your shoes, dropping them carelessly to the floor so she could fully remove your pants. She pushed them aside as she settled at your feet.

Her eyes peered up at you. You could see the hunger in them as she kissed your knees gently, causing your arousal to grow stronger. You felt her hands gliding up your legs, stopping at your lower thighs. Her fingers curled, gripping at your legs firmly. In one swift movement, she jerked your knees apart eliciting a surprised gasp from you as she settled in between your legs. Kuvira nipped and kissed your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to your throbbing center that ached for her touch. You whimpered, feeling her tongue peeked out to trace up your slit. Kuvira used the pads of her thumbs, opening you up to her. You could feel her hot breath between your legs. Kuvira’s eyes searched yours almost as if she was asking for permission. When you showed no signs of protest she leaned forward and tasted. You gasped sharply at the way her mouth ravished you. And ravished you she did, showing no mercy as she used her tongue, lips, and teeth to attack your core. You threw your head back in rhapsody, feeling that heat plummet south to your throbbing core, building up and bringing you closer and closer to your breaking point.

Your thighs closed in around Kuvira’s head. She pried you open, hands resting on your inner thighs as she continued her ministrations. You moaned loudly when you felt her tongue plunge inside you, the bride of her nose rubbing that tight bundle of nerves. It was then you felt yourself at your peak. You screamed out her name as you fell over, coming into her mouth as you felt your release wash over you. Kuvira eased you through your orgasm, lapping away greedily at your essence while your release raked through you. Your body went limp against the chair. Breath coming out deep and ragged. You watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Kuvira stood up, wiping the remains of you from her mouth as she leaned over you and kissed you hard.

She wasn’t done with you. She was determined to hear those noises again. Two fingers plunged into your core pumping into you. You tore away from her lips, choking back a moan. You felt your body shaking violently, her thumb circling that over-sensitive bundle of nerves as her fingers worked you. You felt your body tighten around her fingers sliding in and out of your wet aching core as she stared down at you, lust determined eyes watched you carefully. She leaned forward kissing your neck before she bit down hard. You suppressed a scream, nails digging into the armrest of the chair you sat on. Those clever fingers grew bolder, seeking out the very center of your being, curling upwards and shaking vigorously as incoherent noises escaped your lips. God Kuvira loved the sounds you were making. It was so intoxicating, so thrilling, it stroked a dark part of her ego knowing she could bring you under her control, could even get you to scream out her name. You tried to fight your orgasm, tried with every fiber of your being to hold on. But once Kuvira’s gaze shifted back to you, she leaned in, her face mere inches away from yours. “Y/N, I know you’re fighting me,” Kuvira said in a low voice that made your pulse quicken. “Let go. Come for me.”

As if your body had a mind of its own you obeyed, arching off the chair, your hips canting against her hand as you reached your breaking point. You cried out loudly as you felt your release crash over you so hard that you felt your body stiffen, your mind haze, and the room spinning around you. You felt her lips upon you again swallowing your cries of release as she eased you through your high. Your body fell back against the chair with a loud thud. You felt weak, heavy even. You opened your eyes to see Kuvira’s pale green eyes staring at you, a mischievous smirk graced her lips.

“So beautiful,” Kuvira whispered, leaning down to peck a quick kiss to your dry and swollen lips before straightening back up.

“Still think I’m lying?” She asked you, amusement evident in her voice.

“No.” You managed to say. Surprised by how small your voice sounded. You learned your lesson the hard way. You learned to never question Kuvira again.

[littledrummeraussie]

the light in your eyes and the dark in your heart.

Word count: 1900+

Warnings: I would say none? It’s a bit mystical, a small bit dark, and there are mentiones of sex.

Author’s note: I’ve reblogged @devilatmydoor​ Anna’s Ashton x dark academia moodboard yesterday with the tags that it could be a modern day Dorian Gray-ish AU, and after that we started discussing the possibility behind it. I like how it turned out, and I hope it makes Anna happy as well!

Feedback is appreciated!

masterlist.

- - - - -

Ashton Irwin was a mystery.

Hazel eyes stared at you as you gathered your books into a neat stack, making room for the stranger in front of you. The library was quiet and almost empty, yet he insisted to sit with you as you’ve worked on an assignment. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, showing off perfect teeth and full lips, and for a moment you were lost in the golden flecks that mixed with the greens and browns. He politely thanked you, his voice like honey, warm and rich, and you were sure he just put a spell on you with those two words.

He lightly tapped his pen against his notebook, scribbling down notes before turning to his laptop, adding a few hundred words to his already lengthy document. You’ve lost your train of thoughts many times during the two hours you’ve spent at the table in the back, and felt your stomach drop when you saw he was ready to leave, knowing you’ll probably never see the beautiful stranger again.

A piece of paper landed on your book, neatly folded into a square, and you saw him give you a smile and a wink as he left the library, bag hoisted up on his shoulder and books under his arm. You slowly opened the note to find a name and a number written down, with a few lines added at the end.

 Friday, 2.30 PM.

Café on Campus.

If you’re busy we can reschedule.

Ashton

* * * * *

Ashton Irwin was loved by everyone.

No matter how many times he took you to the coffee shop tucked away in the corner of Campus, there was always an empty table for him, his order already being made the moment he crossed the threshold. He shrugged, saying that it was easy when you were a senior and everyone knew your name, and he made you sit down as he bought you your favourite drink. He gave a charming smile to the girl working the cashier, dropping a dollar or two into the tip jar, and you could see her eyes sparkle and the blush colouring the tip of her ears as Ashton left the counter.

He always had a nice word to the people he ran into, hands in his pockets as he asked them about their latest struggles and how those worked out for them, making plans to catch up later when both had a little more time. Girls praised him for being a gentleman, always the one who looked out for them during parties, making sure they’ve got home safely. Guys told each other what a good sport he was, always ready for a joke or a good prank, how easy it was to get along with him.

Ashton laughed as you’ve asked him about his reputation, breaking a cookie in half and giving you the bigger one, picking on a chocolate chip before plopping it into his mouth.

”Silly girl,” he shook his head, giving you a knowing smile. ”People love you when they know you have something that they want. Don’t forget that.”

* * * * *

Ashton Irwin was gifted.

The senior has been working on his dissertation since freshman year, always finding new topics to incorporate into his magnum opus. You’ve heard people gossiping about his late night library visits, disappearing for weeks to travel up to another place and look through their collection of books, always looking for something new. Ashton had a way with words – not just when he was talking, but also when it was time to understand them. He always had a book with himself, colourful sticky notes peeking out from the pages, marking all the places he wanted to revisit.

His chosen topic surprised you, but soon you’ve learned that there was no one else who has known as much about gods, demons or the devil making pacts with mortal souls throughout the history of classical and modern art. Ashton quoted sections from the Bible without thinking twice, knowing exactly how many times the Devil appeared and made his move on mankind. He made parallels between the gods making deals with mortals in Greek literature and modern men bargaining with Evil himself. He talked about Goethe’s Faust and Oscar Wilde’s Dorian Gray as someone who has read them a thousand times already; you couldn’t ask a question for which he didn’t have an answer for. Music, paintings, movies – whatever it was, he had it: saved on a playlist, in a folder on his laptop, DVDs lining his shelves, ready to make a new connection regarding all the other art forms.

You ran your finger down the spine of a torn copy of Dorian Gray in his room, the once golden words now barely readable as you’ve asked why he was so obsessed with the pact between gods and humans.

”I’ve made a deal with the Devil,” he shrugged when you cocked an eyebrow at him, grabbing your hand and pulling you to his chest. ”I’ve sold my soul for immortality.”

You rolled your eyes and let him kiss you, his lips tasting bitter like coffee, and sweet like ambrosia.

* * * * *

Ashton Irwin was beautiful.

You’ve never seen someone as handsome as your boyfriend – and no, you weren’t exaggerating. You found that you were not the only one who got lost in his shining eyes or his charming smile. People stopped and stared at him on the street, complimenting his features, comparing him to statues and paintings, asking if he was a model or maybe an angel. Ashton laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist, telling them that beauty was temporary, and that there are much more important things in the world before leading you away.

Yet you needed to agree with them – you’ve thought it was just the love and admiration talking, your budding romance and the excitement of a new relationship. But Ashton always seemed like he was perfectly put together by God himself. Your fingers curled into his silky soft hair, eyes locked on his, trying to name all the colours that made up his curious gaze, lips full and jaw chiselled, arms strong and skin warm against yours. You soon found out about his love for tattoos, but it took you some time to explore all of the different inks painting his skin, every one of them having a story for another night when you’ve made love.

He curled his arm around you, pulling you to his side, blissed out from your shared pleasure. Your fingers tangled into his necklace, playing with the medal before lightly running your fingertip over his nipple, down on his ribs to the tattoo on his side, tracing the fine lines of the inking.

”Do you ever fear death? Dying before your time is up? Staying forever young.”

”I crave it,” he whispered, making you look up at him, but he quickly flashed you a soft smile. ”But not since I’ve found you.”

* * * * *

Ashton Irwin was dangerous.

You wanted to think that it was a joke, a well put together prank to make fun of a naïve freshman. But Ashton wasn’t laughing, his eyes dark and serious as he waited for your reaction. His classmates jokingly called him Dorian Gray, and you’ve thought it was just a play on his obsession with death and immortality, but you found that they’ve been right. Even if they didn’t know just how right they have been.

”You did sell your soul to the Devil,” you couldn’t believe the words that left your mouth, but deep inside you knew they were true.

”And I’ve been trying to get it back ever since,” he moved closer, making you step back until your body hit the shelf behind you. ”Are you scared of me?”

”Should I?” you felt your throat dry up, words stuck in your mouth as he leaned his forehead against yours.

”Silly girl,” he brushed his thumb down your cheek, stroking a lock of hair behind your ear. ”You should be terrified.”

”You’re looking for a solution,” you slowly put the pieces together, and he just nodded, both of you understanding the other. ”How old are you?”

”I don’t even remember myself,” he smiled sadly, fingers cradling your jaw. ”Maybe a few hundred years.”

”Are you lonely?” you tugged on the hem of his shirt, and he took it as an invitation, moving closer to your body.

”Not when I’m with you,” Ashton shook his head. ”You make me feel like I’m free of this curse.”

The sounds of your pleasure echoed in the empty library building, the night quiet and dark around you as you’ve lost yourself in each other, Ashton’s arms tightly wrapped around you as he moaned and grunted, and you took all of him – all his pleasure, all his hurt and sadness, every little confession he whispered in your ear. He was sweaty and out of breath as he curled up in your lap, head resting on your thigh as you played with his hair, both of you knowing that this was probably the end. You knew that when the morning comes he will go back to his books and tales, looking for the one thing that could make this all right. He knew that you will probably stick around until the end of the semester, transferring to another school so you don’t to have deal with the hubris he has brought upon himself.

”You know– I’ve seen a flat down on Main Street,” you lightly tugged on his curling hair, and he slowly looked up at you. ”It’s up for rent.”

”Are you sure about it?” something flashed in his eyes, a glimmer of hope as you’ve nodded, making a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

* * * * *

Ashton Irwin was free.

His heart was bursting with love whenever he opened the door to your shared apartment, finding you in the kitchen making dinner, or curled up on the couch under a blanket, his old copy of Dorian Gray lying on the floor next to you, your finger still stuck between the pages. He always checked where you were at, reading a few paragraphs before marking your page and putting it on the coffee table, running his fingers down your cheek to wake you.

Ashton couldn’t remember the last time he felt alive. But with you tucked against his side as the two of you watched a movie or walked around the city when everyone else was already asleep – that is when he truly felt free. He promised himself he will stop trying, and start living, working on being the best version of Ashton, the one he thought you deserved. He didn’t want to think about what will happen in a few years, how are you going to explain to people that he stopped aging a hundred or so years ago. He just wanted to be happy, even if it only felt like a moment in the long life that still awaited him.

On the morning of your graduation day Ashton climbed back into bed next to you, bouncing on the mattress as he tried to wake you. You sleepily blinked up at him, ready to give him a dirty look for making you get up so early – and that is when you saw it. A lock of grey hair hung over his forehead, making his smile brighter than the sun. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging him closer to kiss him, wrapping the stray curl around your finger.

”You’ve never looked more beautiful,” you whispered on his lips, and you felt Ashton blush, burrowing closer to you.

He’s never felt more beautiful or loved than that morning. He was alive. He was free.

- - - - -

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