#and for ink that job comes with knowledge that makes it hard to perform

[juniemunie]

"Why am I still doing this?"

"Don't you get it?"

"This is all just a show... and we're playing parts~"

[un-officql]

NOT TOO OLD FOR LOVING

╰┈➤ Printer x gn!reader; story is in first person from the printer's point of view; reader is called "Name"; unspecified if it's platonic or romantic. For the objectum/posic community, please enjoy my small self indulgence.

"Another day at the office," says John Bayer, heaving a sigh as he enters the workplace. His hair is a dark brown, but after being in the company for so long, almost half of his head has gone grey.

"It's only Monday," says Naomi Penaranda, who is already seated at her cubicle. She has been here since seven this morning, always punctual, even on rainy days when it was hard for people to drive.

"I hope I'm not late for anything," says Sven Williams, speed walking to her station with a bagel in one hand. They aren't a new coworker at the office, however his playfulness and informality has never left her even a year after they started here.

The once silent workplace grows louder as more of my coworkers come in. It always gets rowdy around nine o'clock, when most of the office body arrives. It can be a little overwhelming at first, but I've grown fond of the chatter. I certainly prefer it over how I spend my weekend.

The office has been my home for thirty years. That is much too long for an old machine like me. Printers are not meant to last that long. Don't get me wrong, I am glad to be of service for the times I have been, but lately my old age is getting to me.

I get complaints more and more often. Paper jams inside me and ink spills are more frequent. The most common mistake I've made was misaligning text on multiple forms and files. I regret not being able to do my job as well as I used to, once upon a time, but alas. There is nothing I can do. I am an old printer model, and the boss of our company has been holding off on replacing me.

At first, he simply didn't want to spend money on a new printer. Unfortunately, that decision has given him problems too. I truly regret not being able to perform my best for everyone, but I think even he knows that he can't push my time for replacement.

Today is my last day in the office. The boss has let everyone know that I am finally being replaced. He jokes, "I guess you could say the old machine finally retired."

I think he's right. It's about time I retire.

The office sounds uproariously. Or at least, as much as people are allowed to be in a formal workspace. I hear cheers and "finally" and other comments that say it was about time. I almost feel myself cheer too. The future for me looks a little scary, but at least I'll know that my coworkers will be happier when I'm gone. I watched them grow as people, make friends and sometimes lovers. I've listened in on shared stories over coffee breaks and news about how their children are doing.

Now I'm too old to work alongside them. I won't be able to know if John's son will take up painting or sports. I'll never find out which university Naomi's daughter decided to go to. I can never learn if Sven moved on from their nasty ex-lover. All these bits of knowledge I've gathered and remembered over the years will stay with me forever, unspoken and unended. Yet, these stories are still full of hope.

They have a future that I cannot determine by judgement alone. I hope for everyone's lives in and outside of work to be better than they could've expected.

The workplace feels lighter, and my coworkers seems happier now that the news about my retirement is known. Everyone doesn't mind when paper jams or gets stuck in me. Everyone doesn't care that I mess up their papers again. No one blames anyone that I am not working, because I am old and will be replaced. The workplace will be in good, better hands when I am gone.

It's 9:14 at night when the last few of my coworkers get up from their cubicles to return home for the day. Quietly, I tell them goodbye, and to have a safe trip home. It is then when I spot Name Last Name staring straight at me. The look on Name's face is familiar. I've studied their movements for a long time. Their expression is on par with their focused look, but somehow I notice a hint of sadness along with it.

It does not frighten me. Instead, it makes me wonder: are they thinking about me, about where I am going after I get replaced? Or are they simply spacing out? Before I can fully entertain any pondering, Name gets up to reach for their coat behind their chair. It's a thin one, not enough for the cold night air, and I worry for their well-being as they start towards the boss's office.

"Name, you're the last one out, as per usual." Our boss opens the door of his personal office before Name can knock. I watch their conversation from the corner of the office. He continues, "Normally you'd head that way to leave. Unless you've mistaken my office for the exit, can I assume that you have something to ask me?"

Name hesitates before replying, "Yes, that's right. I... I'd just like to inquire about something." Our boss nods and gives Name the OK, and they pause again before speaking in a hushed tone. I cannot make out most of the conversation afterwards. Name sneaks glances at me every once in a while, as if gossiping about someone present in the room. I can't make heads or tails of it; I have to accept that this, too, will be one of the stories in which I never know the end to.

In a few minutes that felt like hours to me, our boss raises a brow.

"You want to... take it home with you?" I hear him say. Name looks as though they're slightly caught off guard by his small query but nods nonetheless.

"If that's alright with you, sir." Name sputters. Their quick glimpses don't go unnoticed by me. I still haven't a clue what they're discussing, but I'm almost certain it has to do with me. I can't help feeling quizzical, too. Surely Name isn't asking if they could take me home?

"Well, I suppose we as a company no longer have any use for it. I tried getting people to fix that printer ages ago and I admit it's still got days when it works. I pay you enough though, surely you can go on out there and buy yourself a better printer, right?"

"Um, no, sir. I... already have a printer at home, but there's someone I know who needs one. Even if it is an older model, it still works so I thought I could take them... Take it off your hands?"

Our boss shrugs. "Alright, go on. It's yours."

From the way their tensed shoulders relaxed and their mouth fought off a smile, I could tell they were happy. I could even swear that I saw Name's eyes light up. They let out a small laugh, like they've been holding their breath the entire time.

"Thank you, sir," Name says, watching our boss take out the office's door key. "Thanks so much."

Our boss says it's nothing. "I'll wait for you at the door, I gotta lock up for the night."

If you asked me what was going to happen after I retired from the office, I don't think I would've known what to tell you. I thought that this was it, after thirty years printing hundreds of pages of texts, fill out forms, and the occasional meme for a office prank by one of my coworkers, I'd be tossed out, waiting on the curb, likely for a one-way ticket to the local junkyard. Maybe if I had a better outlook on what my life might look like from here on out, I might've suggested a garage sale. There are always people interested in old technology.

It seems that that last statement rings especially true.

It's around ten o'clock at night when Name carries me out of their car trunk and into their home. Their home is beautiful, like nothing I've ever seen. It might look messy at first, but in my opinion the mess makes the house look like a home, like someone has really lived in it and enjoyed themselves. I spot objects I've never seen before, books and a TV and a couch and lights that aren't the blinding fluorescent kind you'd find back at the office.

It finally hits me that I'm in Name's home. They wanted to take me home.

"I'm sorry it isn't much," Name says, looking at me directly. It occurs to me that they're speaking. To me. It feels discombobulating. "I hope you weren't offended by anything I said to my boss. In truth, it was just a cover story so that I could take you home with me."

If I could cry, I feel like I might do so. But I have no eyes, or a mouth, or hands. I could not express the way I feel to them no matter how strongly I wanted to. My rollers shift inside me and I make a slight whirring noise. That's strange. My inner workings feel warm, as if someone had just used me to print something out, but I didn't print very much today to begin with.

At the sound of my shifting Name looks back at me with a start, and for a second I hope they aren't afraid. I was just trying to give them a reply, anything. But to my surprise Name smiles. I'm familiar with their smile. They were often shy about showing it to our coworkers, especially when they laughed. It was perfect.

"I'm guessing you don't mind at all that I took you from work?" They asked. I fail to make another audible noise, but somehow Name looks even more relieved. They're glad. Can they read my thoughts? How do they know if I am replying to them? It makes me worried, but when Name continues to talk, when they continue to show me around, when they pick me up in their arms...

"I didn't know about your 'retiring' party either, believe me. I was kind of hoping you'd stay around forever and that they wouldn't replace you."

I didn't think I would last in the office for very long to begin with, but a small part of me, perhaps foolishly, thought the same as Name. Maybe they would replace me, but they would still keep me around. That's not what happened though, and I don't care. What's happening instead, right now, is better than what I could've expected.

"I'm pretty relieved that I managed to persuade my boss. I... really liked your presence, you know? Admittedly I didn't think your old model was a huge problem at all." Name grins at me. "There are other, bigger problems in the world that aren't an old printer. And hey, for a printer with your model, you still work like a charm."

Their words for me work like a charm, too. I successfully make an audible noise this time, mostly thanks to my janky ink holder. It came in handy though, and there's no pressure for me to actually print right now.

After we've walked into every room and toured every inch of Name's home, they bring me into their kitchen. I worry when they bring me down onto the dining table, but after handling me so gently with an expression I've never seen from them, I relax.

"Well?" Name says, "Is my residence to your standards?"

Out of all moments, my inner workings fail me. I don't manage another noise to reply. But Name doesn't seem to mind. Far from it. It's as if they heard me shout, "Yes, I love your house. I'm thankful that you took me in. I'm so very happy," because when I look back at them their lips curl into a smile. Their face is as bright as the sun.

"Alright then. I guess I can finally say... welcome home."

It's the happiest I've ever seen them. I feel lucky to be around to see it.

[sukirichi]

— there’s always a price to pay when you get your hands on a work of art.

PAIRING: tattoo! artist megumi x reader

REQUEST. tattoo artist au + mutual pining + size kink, praise kink, thigh riding + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy 

WARNINGS: feral megumi, scratching, vaginal sex, size kink, praise kink, mature content, slight overstimulation, sexual tension lol, unedited story

NOTES: ah thank you so much for this request, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Here is my third contribution for FERAL MEGUMI FRIDAYS! and oh wow tattoo artist megumi uh no thoughts head empty

WC: 5.4k+

The tattoo saloon loomed over you, the neon signs almost blinding in the darkness. You could feel your heart pick up its pace in your chest as you hitched your bag up higher, the excitement settling in your toes. Mustering up the brightest smile you could have, you cleared your throat and pushed the door open, the tiny bell on top jingling to signal your arrival.

Your eyes roamed around the walls covered with intricate drawings, the leather seats dark and kept in pristine. Now that was rare – your leather couches always wore out in just a few weeks.

Making your way inside, grip on your sling bag still tight, you bit your lip as you peaked behind the counter. Empty. No one was there, and the nearby opened rooms were empty as well. Scratching your head, you scrunched your nose in confusion. You were sure you got the right place.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to leave, then stopped in your tracks when a dark-haired man exited a door you hadn’t even noticed at first.

He was tall – taller than you; his arms stretched until the sleeves of his black hoodie were pulled down, revealing a sliver of black tattoos that marked his skin. Upon hearing your awed gasp, his cold blue eyes fluttered to yours, the man – who was absolutely handsome despite his frown – froze in his spot.

You waved a hand to him, your smile bigger than ever. “Hi!” So you would be working with this cute guy? Maybe job-hunting wasn’t such a bad experience, after all.

“Hey,” he drawled out hesitantly, approaching you with his ink stained fingers pointed at you. He was still frowning, which was a damn shame, since you were sure he’d look even hotter if he smiled. “So...you’re Y/N.”

“Yeah!”

“And you...” he tilted his head to the side, inquisitive eyes studying your form. You would’ve felt conscious with the way his brows furrowed, eyes unreadable and lips pressed into a thin line, but you were sure you dressed to impress on your first interview. You admitted, however, that maybe wearing a white collared shirt with a pink tennis skirt made you stand out like a sore thumb in the heaviness of the studio. “...want to be a front desk man here?”

“Yeah!”

“What makes you think you’re qualified for this?” he crossed his arms on his chest, and you didn’t miss the slight bite of his voice. So he was handsome – but cranky. Great. “You don’t look like you fit in here.”

“Judging someone’s appearance and inferring that it has any relation to their credentials isn’t such a professional thing to do, you know,” you raised your chin proudly, jutting a pointer finger to his chest. He clearly didn’t expect this because he scowled and took a step back, while you fought the grin that threatened to paint your face. “Would you like it if people told you that you’re not qualified to be a lawyer because of your tattoos and piercings?”

He scoffed, “I don’t want to be a lawyer. As you can see, I’m a tattoo artist. And to answer your question, no, I don’t give a fuck what people think about me.”

“I can tell,” you muttered to yourself before smiling back up at him. He was too easy to read; his brow quivering and lips firm at your faux enthusiasm. “But yes, I do believe I’m qualified! I’m a fast learner and I’m even quick on my feet! I’m really good at talking to people too so I believe I can help schedule client appointments really well and guide them with this whole process.”

“Being front desk man doesn’t mean serving the clients tea and biscuits.”

“I know.”

“You know?” he snorted with a roll of his eyes. He then gestured you to follow him all the way back to the front desk. You expected he’d teach you about how to handle the appointment books or pick up phone calls, but instead he plopped down on the leather couch of the waiting area, his legs crossed on top of the other.

Your eyes followed the patch of pale skin exposed from his ripped jeans before you looked away, not wanting him to see that you found him attractive despite his less than welcoming personality.

“What exactly do you know about this industry?”

“Nothing, to be honest, but I’m not here to be a tattoo artist or anything. I just really need a job and I assure you I’ve got plenty of experience and knowledge when it comes to manning front desks or counters,” you stated confidently, “I know I look out of place, but I really need this job.”

The man only narrowed his eyes at you. Contemplation was written all over his face, probably wondering why you couldn’t just work somewhere else. “Why come here, of all places?”

“Because it’s the only one that has a flexible schedule,” you sighed, “I can’t work shifts anymore because I’m too busy at university. From when I talked to your boss – Geto, was it? – he said that the salon was open 24/7 and I could work until before my classes start. He’s not really strict about that kind of thing.”

“So you mean to tell me,” he leaned forwards, looping his fingers with one another while his ice cold gaze slithered over your desperate ones. “You’ll be at university for half the day, sleep until midnight, and then come here to work and attend class a few hours later? Isn’t your schedule a little irregular?”

“Oh no, it’s not like that! I also have mock classes after uni and it lasts until late at night, then I help clean at the local shelter. They’re running out of volunteers and the dogs are really adorable and take my stress away so...I make sure to come by when I have time.”

“You are one odd creature,” he noted loudly, almost as if he wasn’t completely aware he vocalized his thoughts. Well, at least now you knew he wasn’t the type to think his words over, which either made him more entertaining – or insufferable the longer you worked with him – if you began working anyway. “You could’ve used your spare time to rest. Do you even eat?”

“Yeah, I have a granola bar right now with me! I actually brought two,” you pulled out the snack from your bag, “You want some? I only got the oats, though.”

“Keep it to yourself,” he rolled his eyes, slapping his hands over his knees before rummaging over something behind the counter. “Fine. If Geto said he’s okay with you, then you’re hired.”

“Really, that easy?” your eyes widened, but then you chuckled when this strange man glared at you in response. He sighed as he pulled out a piece of paper, a pen on top of it. The papers read something about application forms and credentials, and you beamed, happily writing your information away with a slight bounce in your toes.

Unable to keep your happiness to yourself, you looked back at the bored man, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. “Huh. I was kind of expecting you would grill me – you’ve got that scary look in your eye. Let me guess, you often scare clients off?”

It seemed he could never get tired of glaring at you, because his eyes fuelled with heat as he leaned against the wall.

You hated to admit that he looked ridiculously handsome like that – the guy wasn’t even doing anything remotely attractive in the first place!

“I’m the most booked artist here, and I ask that you don’t get too comfortable with me. You haven’t even started working here and you’re already riling up on my train,” he groaned when you merely laughed in response. He made quick work of signing something in your form before handing you a key. “Here’s for your locker. Come to work tomorrow. Geto won’t be around for a week so I’ll be the one judging your performance. If you fuck up in the slightest – I won’t hesitate to fire you, you understand? We always have Yuuji coming around anyway, you’re really not that needed for the front desk.”

“Oh,” you nodded at his harshness, unsure whether to feel threatened or amused. “O-okay. I’ll do my best then. I look forward to you – ah, wait, what’s your name?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” you muttered to yourself, uttering his name over and over again until it rolled smoothly on your tongue. “Shame you have a shitty attitude along with that handsome face, though.”

“You trying to say something?”

You faced him, about to laugh when he scowled at your not-so-subtle comments. Waving your hands to him, you made your way out the door, your smile only irritating him further. “No, I wasn’t. I’ll be taking my leave then – see you tomorrow!”

Seems like working in a tattoo studio wouldn’t be so bad.

You came to work the next day early and pumped with adrenaline. The idea of meeting the moody tattoo artist caused you to be giggly and happy the whole day, not even feeling the exhaustion of a long day of hard work as you made your way inside the shop.

Clocking in at exactly two in the morning, you proudly tugged your name badge on top of your left breast, patting it for good luck.

The bells jingled, making you look away from your tag. “Good morning – oh, where’s Megumi?” The man standing in front of you was taller than Megumi, his head nearly knocking over the doorframe if it wasn’t for his poor, slouched lanky frame.

He had white hair that brushed atop his cerulean blue eyes, and your eyes widened because wow, he was beautiful.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Megumi told me you came around yesterday but he didn’t tell me the counter girl was this pretty,” He was in front of you the next second, his nose nearly grazing over yours that had you leaning back into the wall for space. “Hmm...he didn’t tell me that at all.”

“Oh, thank you. You are...?”

“I’m Gojo Satoru, one of the senior artists here. Since Megumi isn’t here yet, let me give you a tour!” Before you could react, Satoru already had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, his other arm waving and pointing to all the hung paintings and labels on each door. You found it odd that he treated you like you were an old friend, but you weren’t going to complain. Nice co-workers were always welcomed.

“Here is the holding area where clients wait to get their session done. This is Geto’s studio and right next to that is his office where he does all the finances and all that jazz, while this is my studio. Cool, isn’t it?”

Your mouth fell ajar as Satoru led you inside his studio, the walls painted the same aquatic shade of his eyes, but what caught your attention was the galaxy themed tattoo designs he made. They came in different shapes – a volcano head, a dragon, a worm, a four-armed monster – but inside them were all galaxies with sparkling and burning stars. You could see everything and nothing all at the same time.

“Whoa, you made all this?!”

Satoru’s chest puffed out proudly, “Yeah, I did. I’m flattered by your reaction, I really am, but you haven’t seen Megumi’s yet. There’s a reason our salon boomed even though he’s only been working here for two years.”

At the mention of his name, your interest was piqued, all ears and curious smiles directed to Satoru. “Oh, can I see Megumi’s studio?”

“You can – if you book an appointment.”

“But I don’t plan on getting any tattoos,” you frowned.

“You’ll never get to see his work then,” he chuckled to himself, the sound growing louder when you visibly deflated. What was the point of getting your hopes up like that then? “Megumi doesn’t like letting others in his studio without permission or an appointment.”

“Why not?”

“He’s just iffy about it,” he shrugged, “Don’t bother trying to decode his personality anymore, Megumi’s very hard to understand. Though if I were to make sense of it...” he rubbed his chin, eyes looking out into the distance. “I guess you could say Megumi’s not the type to be showy when it comes to his work of art. Did that clear it up?”

You blinked back blankly. “No, not really. But it’s fine – I don’t plan on getting to know him anyway.”

That was the biggest lie of your life.

The moment Megumi came around a few minutes later, a loud groan upon your animated greeting over his arrival, your chest bloomed with a different kind of fluttery warmth. He rarely came out after that, clients swarming in to both his and Satoru’s studios, but each faint glimpse of his door cracking open that allowed you to see him focused as he worked, you could no longer deny the heat burning down your legs.

You crushed on the grumpy tattoo artist.

And the more you came around work, greeting him zealously and teasing him to no end that he’d look hotter if he smiled, your crush only intensified for him – completely unaware that he too, couldn’t get his thoughts off of you even with his door closed.

In fact, he kept his door closed all the time because your voice distracted him too much.

“Hey, Y/N, you free?”

You looked up from the textbook you were reviewing, slamming it shut when Satoru’s head peeked out from his studio. He was still wearing gloves with a pen between his fingers, most likely still in the middle of a session.

“Yep! We don’t have appointments yet and I’ve already closed it for non-appointees. Did you need me to get you something?”

“Yeah, could you get Megumi for me? He isn’t picking his phone up and one of our special clients are coming soon. I’m packed right now so I can’t fetch him. I’ll send you the address and you get him, yeah? Just open the counter if you need money for a cab.”

You blinked owlishly at him. On one side, you’d be more than glad to see Megumi again. He hadn’t arrived despite it being four in the morning already, and you were worried, but you also didn’t have his number to ask how he was doing. Progress with Megumi was...slow, to say the least.

He still holed himself up in his studio, coming out only for bathroom breaks, although you noticed a drastic improvement when he finally began to mutter an almost shy “good morning” under his breath for the past few weeks.

It wasn’t much, but you’d have to make do.

“Uhm, when is this client of his coming? Should I run...?”

“Yeah, you need to fucking run. They’re coming in an hour and a half!” Satoru exclaimed, flailing his hands around like a madman.

Even after working with him for some time, you still couldn’t believe the older man was practically a man child, even asking for head pats sometimes. He would lean down with a pout, using a squeaky voice to call your attention, which always succeeded in Megumi fake gagging before he locked himself inside his studio.

“Forwarded you his address. Really sorry for the inconvenience, Y/N!”

“It’s okay!” you jumped out of your seat in an instant, not bothering to take your name tag off anymore as you left the salon, hailing the nearest cab.

Megumi lived quite far from the salon, which had you wondering why he chose to work there when there were plenty of salons in his area too. His place looked shady, as well, his apartment in a high-rise building with endless graffiti and several drunk stragglers hooting for you.

You ignored them all, taking two steps at a time from his staircase, your hands on your knees as you panted for air. Why did he have to live on the tenth floor?

“Megumi! Megumi!” you banged your fist on the door, throat parched from your sudden cardio session. You were sure you burned ten calories just from that sprint, and you sighed in relief when Megumi swung the door open, still looking handsome – and sleep-deprived – as ever in his black shirt and black skinny jeans.

“What?” he demanded. After seeing that it was you, he quickly snatched a water bottle and passed it your way, closing his door behind him. “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where I live?”

“Satoru said you had a really important client. You weren’t picking your phone up so he sent me to come get you.”

“It’s my day off,” he grumbled, answering your silent questions, your worries dissipating into thin air. Once you’d satisfied yourself by basically dunking the entire bottle, Megumi rolled his eyes, his hands flat on the small of your back while he guided you downstairs. The sudden touch flamed your cheeks; a stupid smile on your face. You were shameless, though, leaning back closer to him in the darkness of the early morning. “Why does he send a girl out of all people?”

“Something wrong with that?”

“It’s unsafe. My neighbourhood isn’t the best and who knows what would’ve happened to you if some goons came out?” Megumi hailed for a back, surprising you when he let you get in first and paid for the fee despite your outstretched hand prepared with the bills. “I can’t believe Sukuna chose this day to come of all times. I can never get a damn break.”

“Sukuna?”

“A special client. He’s a really huge tipper and comes on odd schedules – I didn’t think he’d come now.”

“Yeah, I checked the papers and he wasn’t there,” you frowned to yourself.

Megumi pressed his head against the window, eyes closed as his chest heaved up and down rhythmically. With the sun slowly shining from behind you, the golden stretches of it outlined his sharp features you adored, and you rested your chin on your palms, eyelashes fluttering at his beauty. “You know, Megumi, you’re really pissy sometimes – but you’re quite nice, aren’t you? I’d say you were even worried for me.”

He cracked one eye open, those blue eyes still shining with irritation, but make no mistake since his ears were flushed red. “I’m not. I just don’t want to be involved in a police investigation if they find your body near here.”

“How sweet of you.”

“Shut up.”

You and Megumi were beginning to get closer. You couldn’t pinpoint where he started to grow more comfortable with you, but it was definitely there and it was painfully evident that even someone stupid like Satoru noticed the sexual between you two.

He would always sniff the air whenever you and Megumi sat next to each other during lunch breaks, a wide grin on your face while Megumi buried his face in his hands, groaning because he knew the moment Satoru opened his mouth, nothing but dumb comments would come out. And dumb comments they were; the white-haired man merciless as he teased Megumi for acting like a cute little kid around you.

You never took it to heart, though. It was Megumi you were talking about; he was hot and cold; sweet then distant from one moment then an entire person the next.

Not that you minded, it only added to your fuelling crush on him, but you couldn’t control the way your heart fluttered every time Satoru whispered that he did like you, excusing that Megumi just wasn’t the best with words. Apparently, Megumi had spent too much time holed up in his apartment and studio that he had zero to little knowledge on how to talk to pretty girls – especially one that was clearly attracted to him as well.

Satoru encouraged you to go for it – that you should confess or break the ice first otherwise Megumi would never do anything about his raging boner every time you came around.

You only flushed at his statement, but you couldn’t deny that you too felt the same way.

One morning where Satoru and Geto were out restocking supplies, you and Megumi were left alone in the salon. Of course, he still resorted in the comfort of his studio, muttering under his breath that he wanted to try some designs before disappearing. Only this time, he left the door slightly open, the lights peeking through the slight crack.

Walking up to him with muted footsteps, you leaned over his shoulder, glancing over a sketch of...you? “Are you drawing me?”

Megumi yelped at your voice right next to his ear, throwing the paper away on the other side of the room before glaring at you. You laughed at his reaction, because how was it possible he was both so criminally sexy yet adorable? He looked terribly gorgeous today, as well, wearing a short sleeved black hoodie and black sweatpants, looking so comfortable and boyfriend like – and you couldn’t even begin to express your appreciation over his new lip piercing.

“Why do you always sneak up on me?” he snapped, “Didn’t I tell you I wanted privacy?”

“Then why aren’t you pushing me away?”

Megumi sighed exasperatedly, turning back to organize his pencils before glaring at you. “What do you want? Got no one else to bother since Satoru isn’t around?”

“I just wanted to see your art,” you mentioned, but kept your eyes directed on him instead of the plethora of sketches and designs hanging from his wall as to not offend him. “Satoru told me to never come inside. He said you’re really...private when it comes to your works,” you furrowed your brows at the last part, feeling your heart beat pulse at your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Can I see your tattoos too?”

“Why do you want to see them?”

“A work of art on a canvas who’s also a work of art himself?” you finally gained confidence to tease him again, getting riled up further when Megumi stiffened at your curious hands travelling under his shirt. His breath sharpened as his glare only deepened, though he didn’t make a move to stop you. “Why wouldn’t I want to see that?”

“Being flirty doesn’t work on you. It’s not cute.”

“You’re blushing though,” you remarked. Megumi groaned and pushed your face away until your buttocks landed on his recliner. Satisfied with Megumi not completely kicking you out, you swung your legs back and forth, still staring at his hoodie as if it was an offensive material.

“Can I...see?” Megumi rolled his eyes before he lifted his shirt up, revealing to you intricate patches of black ink splattered over ripples of muscles. Your mouth salivated, and somewhere down there, you drooled too. Tentatively, your hands reached out to finger the image of canines, Megumi shuddering over your cold touch on his warm skin. “It’s beautiful. What does it mean?”

Megumi pursed his lips before whispering, “These are the dogs I had as a child. My father got me them so I wouldn’t be too lonely when he’s away from work.”

“They’re very pretty. They look like black and white wolves,” you smiled, elated that he was opening up in more ways than one. Your touch flitted over to a winged creature under his left collarbone, small letters beside the image. “And this bird? Nue? He’s so majestic,” Your hands never stopped in trailing over his skin like a lost wanderer, sweeping over ink ink until Megumi completely discarded his hoodie to the side, his back faced to you.

A white viper tattoo stood large on his broad back, crawling until over his shoulder with the fangs ending just above his pecs. Megumi swallowed at each slivering touch, your fingers dipping and caressing every dent and curve of his body.

You couldn’t get your eyes off of him, your breath hitching in your throat as one of your hands gripped his biceps subconsciously. “You’re so beautiful.”

Megumi stiffened when your thumbs grazed over his nipple right next to the viper’s fang. Almost as if a switch was triggered inside him, Megumi growled, ducking to capture your lips with his in a sloppy, heated kiss. His hands tugged at the ends of your hair to arch your neck to him, his knees slapping your legs open before he settled comfortably between you, his low groans mixing with your breath moans.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. From the moment I met you,” he nibbled your lips, hands trailing down to thumb at your hipbones. “I knew that innocent good girl look was nothing but an act.”

You smiled through the kiss, a tiny gasp falling from your lips when Megumi pulled you closer until your heat grinded against the hardness inside his pants. Laughing at his harsh movements, you let Megumi tilt your head back, his lips sucking and teeth gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“Innocent girl?” you echoed, legs now wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. “What makes you think I am?”

“White lace panties? Short tennis skirts and sunshine smiles?” Megumi clenched his teeth, his hands eager as he tugged the white lace down until it looped to your ankles. You gasped, back arching when he thrusted two fingers inside you, curling and fingering against your bumpy walls. “You’re not fooling anyone, baby, especially not me.”

“Took you long enough to understand I wanted you though,” you chuckled through broken moans, eyes shut tight while your legs opened wider, heels digging into the hard cushion of his seats. “I was wondering when I’d get to break you from that tough guy act of yours and have you fuck me good,” Megumi growled at your words. You leaned forward to scratch at his chest, your tongue licking the shell of your ear as you rasped, “And on a side note, I am a good girl – only to those who can make me feel good, of course.”

Megumi cupped his palm to collect your arousal dripping of his, finally shutting you up when his fingers grazed over your sweet spot that had you clenching around him. And those were just his fingers. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded smugly, hands coming up to tug harshly at his hair. Megumi hissed at the sharp pain, prompting him to fuck his fingers in and out of you faster until you leaked down to his chair, thighs trembling and your high-pitched moans coating the walls of his stupid. “Megumi, ah! Just shut up and fuck me already – been wanting you long enough.”

“Needy little girl,” He pressed you down on the reclining seat, settling between your legs before he spread your lips open with two thumbs. At the sight of your bare cunt clenching around nothing, Megumi groaned, teeth biting his lip because he could cum right then and there. “Fuck, look at you. So wet already,” he ran a hand over your slit to collect your arousal, eyes dark with lust as your juices webbed between his fingers. “All this for me? You’re so good.”

“Fuck – yeah, yeah I am,” you leaned back harder into the seat, groping at your own breasts while you nodded dumbly, too fucked out to even form a coherent response. “Going to be good for you, Megumi, gonna make you feel good.”

“Sorry, babe, maybe next time. I’m too impatient to not feel your pussy around me,” he pushed away at your hands that planned to pump his cock, his hand coming down to push you hard against the seat until his weight loomed over you.

You felt Megumi begin to align his tip at your center, dampening his mushroom head with your arousal first that had you both moaning left and right.

Hands scratching down his back as your teeth dug into your lips, Megumi pushed into you with one thrust, the sudden stretch making your legs shake and your body writhe underneath him. “Shit, why are you so tight? So fucking warm and perfect,” he rasped next to your ear, and you could hear how hard he was breathing as he thrusted into you, his cock hitting all the right places.  “Could fuck this pretty pussy all day, baby, shit.”

“Me-Megumi – t-too big!”

“Shh, you’ll be fine. You’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?” he cupped your cheek, grinning sinisterly as he watched the way your greedy walls sucked him in. “See how you take me so well? You’re so small and pretty wrapped around my cock. I could break you if I wanted you,” he growled, his hands gripping hard at your hips when you clenched around him, enticing the man above you to quicken his pace.

Megumi watched with a lust filled gaze as your breasts bounced at the relentless pace he started, his balls slapping at your ass. “Oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you? You want to be stuffed with my fat cock in you? Fuck you until you’re a drooling mess? You’re so gorgeous when I fuck you stupid.”

“Yes, Megumi, agh. Keep going, keep going, I’m so close!”

“Oh, you feel like heaven around me,” he praised at your neck, his cock stretching you wide and pushing into you. Megumi groaned lowly at your ear as his palms flattened over your stomach that bulged every time he thrusted in, his balls tightening at the sight. “Look at how big I am for you, baby, but you’re doing so well. You were made for me – made to take my cock, shit, you’re so perfect around me. Gonna make you feel good, yeah? You’re such a good girl for me. Cum, baby, that’s right – I’m allowing you to cum.”

“Gumi, Gumi, fuckkk,” your legs tightened around him as Megumi panted with each harsh thrust, the black marks over his skin expanding and stretch when his forearm rested beside your head. His muscles clenched as he fucked into you deep, over and over again until he pushed you over the edge.

A silent sob left your lips when you came around him, your juices creaming around his cock. A few thrusts later, Megumi fell on top of you as you felt him spill his seed inside you.

He had too much that you felt both your cum dripping down your ass; Megumi pulling out with a slight wince from the oversensitivity. You struggled to catch your breath as you laid there, legs wide open and the cool air hitting your bare pussy. The door was still open, and Satoru and Geto could walk in on you both looking like this, but you couldn’t care, not when you could barely feel your legs.

You dropped your arm over your face, hearing Megumi pull his pants back up. “That was...”

“Intense?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, wincing as you sat up. Your hair stuck to your forehead in sweaty clumps, dawning on you now that you were still very much covered in your sticky cum. You recoiled from the seats as you realized Megumi hadn’t even put on a towel underneath.

“Shit. Is this chair even clean?”

“I sanitize it every after session. Don’t worry about it,” he rolled his eyes, his tattoos covered and hidden from your sight once more when he pulled his hoodie over his head. Megumi retrieved a clean towel from his drawers and wiped at your sensitive pussy, your legs immediately closing around his hands when the towel accidentally grazed your clit.

Megumi gripped your knees with a silent glare. “Stay still. I’m cleaning you up.”

“I didn’t peg you as an aftercare guy. Thought you would leave me hanging here,” you teased, but really, you were feeling warm all over again as you watched Megumi wipe you all the way down to your other hole, your legs still tensing up.

Once he left to wash his hands, you could relax, tugging your panties back up with immense struggle. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fuck you good – you could barely feel your legs now.

“And have you make a mess by ruining my seat?” he sighed as he returned, helping you seady yourself while he snapped the slightly soaked panty back to your core. “No thanks.”

“You’re so mean, Megumi. I’m hurt.”

He rolled his eyes at your pout, leaning down to kiss you square on the lips. This time around, the kiss wasn’t rushed; it was slow and sensual, firm yet gentle, and his hands carefully massaged your sore hips that would soon bruise from his grip before.

“No, you’re not,” he mumbled through your lips, mimicking that lovesick smile on your face as he pulled away. “But babe, you know the rules. Now that you’ve seen my work of art – what tattoo would you like me to give you? My name on your inner thigh?”

[lasignoramain]

Tempus Fugit

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: Major Character Death

Relationship: Jean/Lisa

Summary: "Before demanding too many miracles from the gods, first consider if you are willing to pay the price they ask."

Sometimes, the sand of one's hourglass moves too quickly. What happens when Lisa's time runs out?

Word Count: 3088

Read under the bar, and/or on AO3!

Who knew that helping Barbara convince Jean to go on vacation would lead to Lisa Minci, the simple librarian of the Knights of Favonius, taking on the role of Acting Grand Master? Kaeya could have asked anyone— Amber, for instance. The young girl would be more than willing to take on the role and perform amicably. Even Eula would gladly take on the role of Acting Grand Master, and would most likely view it as a challenge. A test, to see if she's one the same level as Jean when it comes to taking on the tasks of Grand Master.

Even with those candidates, both of which would be ready and raring to assist while Kaeya shirks his duties, he chose Lisa.

Lisa, who chose the measly tasks of a librarian for a reason. Her job is rarely stressful, though she still takes it just as seriously. Jean entrusted the library to her, after all, so she wouldn't disappoint the woman she's severely indebted to.

Jean, as well as Grand Master Varka. Although Varka was adamant on Lisa being the Captain of the 8th Company. Absentmindedly, Lisa grasps at the Vision resting on her chest. The Knights of Favonius— they're all flawed people with ideals and goals independent of their occupations. They don't always act as one would expect.

Protect those who cannot protect themselves, even if it means that you might sacrifice yourself in the process.

Why?

A protector, a guardian, both a shield and a sword, dandelions floating in the Anemo-blessed breeze. A warm smile, gloved hands resting over Lisa's. Determination to work hard to fill the shoes that Grand Master Varka left her, stress building when one too many stacks of paper rest on her desk. Still, she presses on, a storm of productivity. Sacrificing herself for—

For what, exactly, does Jean sacrifice herself for? Or maybe the correct question is who?

The obvious answer would be the people of Mondstadt. They're all grateful for Acting Grand Master Jean— grateful to the point where they're too reliant on her. A lost cat that will inevitably return when it's hungry, advertising papers lost in the breeze that could easily be remade in a day or less. Freedom shackled by a doting Acting Grand Master who can't say no to the people she's meant to protect.

Lisa clears her throat, shaking the dizziness away. Just a few more papers to review and sign, then she'll return to the library to ensure that things are running smoothly.

Is Jean thinking of her while she's away with Barbara and Klee? With Kaeya, Diluc, Albedo, Razer, and Lumine? Hopefully, she's enjoying her vacation thoroughly, reconnecting with that relaxed, fun side that she once had when she was younger. Not that Lisa knows personally what Jean was like before she began shouldering the burdens of a Favonius Knight; she's only heard stories from Barbara, who's always more than willing to share the memories she holds so near and dear to her heart.

Her... heart. When did Lisa's chest start aching? Dull, but uncomfortable nonetheless. Nothing to worry about, it should go away in a few minutes.

Perhaps Kaeya and Diluc will have a small moment of bonding while they're on those islands together. While they're brothers, they've been so distant for so long. Not that Lisa knows why— the reasons of their tense relationship is a mystery even to her. Such a fragile thing the two of them have. Lisa hopes they eventually reconcile.

As for Klee, she's most likely ecstatic to have so many friends with her. Hopefully she'll be even more overjoyed when she realizes who's behind her summer getaway. Lisa played along for the young girl's sake, though she would know that handwriting anywhere, even if Alice tried to change it up. She still dotted her I's the same, and her A's had that exact flourish to them that made it obvious to Lisa.

The omnipotent mage. How much knowledge has she acquired in her travels, compared to what Lisa knows? Does Alice know the truth of why the Archons bestow Visions on mere mortals? Is Lisa paranoid for good reason, or is a fool to be terrified by whatever grand scheme the gods have in store for those "blessed" with obtaining a Vision?

"Before demanding too many miracles from the gods, first consider if you are willing to pay the price they ask."

Blessings will always hide their curses in the depths of the shadows, only rearing their heads when given the best opportunity to cause the most damage.

The dull ache in Lisa's chest turns into a sharp, stabbing pain. Gasping, she keels over, resting her forehead on the cool, polished wood of her desk. Her hat flops unceremoniously off of her head and onto the desk, knocking over a jar of ink and a few stacks of papers.

Always... they always come with a cost.

It wasn't even her Vision that did this to Lisa. Still, she's lived her life, hasn't she? Her hourglass just has less sand than most, and she accepted that a long time ago.

Still, why now? Of all the times, when she's alone. No one to be by her side when she goes. Can't she have this one thing? To have someone hold her close to them while her time finally runs out? Or will she be alone as she always has been, holding everyone at an arm's length, too afraid to grow attached and lose someone, grieve over a lost life?

"Jean..."

Help. She needs help. Her blood is rushing so loudly in her ears, but if she can just manage to get up and find someone, call for help, and she might be able to extend her life just for a little while longer, at least until she can see Jean—

A cough rises up Lisa's throat, and, through her delirious vision, she sees the blood more than tastes it. Is her sense of taste the first thing to go? What about her other senses? Can she still feel her hands, the wooden desk her forehead is resting on, the thrum of her Vision on her chest?

Numb. Numb is all she feels. Is that a feeling, or a lack thereof?

Fuck, she needs to move. If she can just find Eula, or- or Amber. Hell, if she can just get the attention of the guards stationed outside the door.

Power through it, Lisa. This is what you've been saving your energy for— to fight your fate for just one more day. Curse the Archons, curse this Vision, and curse that stupid. Magic. Book—

Lisa groans, slowly pushing herself up from her desk. The entire room is spinning— how is she going to get anywhere like this? It's laughable, really. How many people have referred to Lisa as elegant, refined, composed? This— her, right now— is the complete opposite of how many view her.

Oh, how embarrassed she would feel if she wasn't on the precipice of death, desperate for someone to save her. Where is her knight in shining armor? Any moment now, she should be bursting through that door, always prepared to play hero for everyone.

So, where is her hero?

Lisa's hand slips on the edge of her desk. She barely has the strength to catch herself, so she falls with a loud crash. She needs to get her act together— it would be so embarrassing for Jean to see her like this, wouldn't it? A sweating, shaking mess.

But Jean won't say anything about the state Lisa's in. She'll just give Lisa that warm smile before gathering her up in her strong arms, and then they could go to Windrise for a picnic, or— or even Starsnatch Cliff, so they could pick Cecilia flowers together. Then they could have some tea before they have to go back to work.

Jean. Jean, Jean, Jean.

The floor is so cold, Jean. It's dark, Jean. It was light outside just a moment ago, Jean, where did the sun go? Goodness, how the time flies. To think that you and I only met a short while ago, Jean. I'm so happy that I met you, and— and the rest of the Knights of Favonius, Jean.

A door slams open. Footsteps, but it all sounds so far away. So far, Jean, you're so far away. Can't you come back? Can't you come home, just for me?

"Her... is grave. We need... to the Church, and, while you're at it... the bard. He can send for Jean— don't ask questions, just do as you're told!"

Ah, Lisa can't feel a thing. Is this what death feels like? Nothingness? Her hearing is all she has left. What happens after she loses that, too?

They mentioned Jean. By the time they get a hold of her, it'll be much too late, and not even Barbatos can save Lisa. Perhaps he can keep her spirit here, just for a little longer? She wants to see everyone one more time.

Please. Just once more.

But that would be a bother— Jean is on vacation. Lisa can't be selfish, can't take her away, can't be selfish.

"Come on, Lisa... stay with us."

Who is that? Eu...la. Eula.

Eula.

Lisa wishes she could apologize.

"Until I enact my vengeance on all of the Knights of Favonius, no harm can come upon any of them! Including you, Lisa. I'll make sure that nothing happens to you, or Jean, or Amber—"

Eula's a good person. Strange, but she fits in perfectly with the rest of the Knights. Caring in her own way. She doesn't know about why Lisa has the condition that she does, and she has never asked a single question about it. Lisa's always appreciated that about Eula.

Eula, whose voice she can't hear anymore.

Has she finally died?

Lisa.

Aha, that's a familiar voice.

She opens her eyes to find that, yes, she is dead. How morbid— her soul is outside of her body, and thus she can see her deathly pale corpse resting on one of the cots in the church's infirmary. Her Vision is without its usual amethyst glow. Venti is by her side, though not looking at her physical body. He's looking right at her spirit.

"Well, this is a shame," Lisa sighs, crossing her arms. "Here to take me away with the winds before I can even see my friends, Barbatos? I'm hurt."

Venti shakes his head. "The least I can do is allow you to see them one last time, Lisa. Though it would be faster to take you to the archipelagos where they are now, I've sent Dvalin to gather them, per Eula's request." He smiles sympathetically, eyes full of mirth. "How do you feel?"

Lisa hums, tilting her head to the side. "Must I answer that, I wonder? Although I no longer feel the pain that I did while I was alive, which, I suppose, is a blessing. I expected death to give me much more time to do what I initially planned on doing before I ran out of time, but alas," she sighs, though it's not as if she's actually breathing. How strange. "How long until Jean arrives?"

"It shouldn't be long, now. Dvalin is a fast flier, after all," Venti chuckles, though that sad look never leaves his emerald eyes. "I see that your carefree nature has followed you even in death. If you'd received a Vision from me, you would fit in perfectly."

"Your Vision wouldn't match my outfit," Lisa retorts with a shrug. "I'm the Witch of Purple Rose, not Green. Though, thank you for the offer. Perhaps in my next life, I'll be granted an Anemo Vision."

Venti laughs loudly at that. "Perhaps you will," he agrees lightheartedly. He opens his mouth to add something else, but pauses when they both hear loud footsteps heading toward them. Just as quickly as the mourning left Venti's eyes, it returns. "The winds bring your companions to us quickly, it seems."

Jean bursts into the room, greedily gulping in whatever air she can into her lungs. Barbara, Lumine, and everyone else who had gone to the Golden Apple Archipelago are here.

"Barbatos—"

"Jean. Everyone," Venti solemnly greets the group with a nod. "Lisa asked me to hold her spirit here for a little while longer, at least until she could see the rest of you one last time." He turns toward Lisa's ghost, who stands there with crossed arms. The Anemo Archon summons his lyre, plucking at its strings to play a mellow tune.

A breeze flows through the room, and everyone's gaze moves to where Lisa is standing, next to her physical body. She watches them all intently— Diluc tries to keep his expression unreadable, but his knitted eyebrows, his tightly pressed together lips. Barbara is holding back her tears, to no avail. They all look so... sad.

"Now! Why are we all so mopey?" Lisa chides, shaking her head. She steps forward, placing her hands on her hips. "I certainly wouldn't want to remember my last moments with you lot having such sad faces, now, would I? So smile! It's the least you can do for me, isn't it?"

Klee whimpers next to Albedo, and Lisa's facade cracks. She kneels to Klee's height, smiling at the young girl. "Come now, Klee. You're a strong girl, aren't you? I know it might be hard right now, but you'll be alright."

"But... but I won't get anymore treats from Miss Lisa, will I?" Klee whines, shaking her head. "I don't want that! I want Miss Lisa to keep giving me treats! It's not fair!"

At Klee's tantrum, Barbara finally breaks with a loud sob. Lumine pulls her in for a hug, though Lisa sees the small tear that rolls down the traveler's cheek.

"Oh, Klee. I wish I could've taught you how to make those delicious treats I make you, but I have to leave soon." Pretending to lose herself in her thoughts for a moment, Lisa hums, tilting her head. Then she makes a small "Aha!" before smiling widely. "How about this: Let's make a pinky promise! I'll come back to Mondstadt and teach you how to make those treats, and you have to promise to smile for me."

Klee's face scrunches in confusion, but she extends her pinky to Lisa. "You have to come back! If you don't come back, then I'll be very angry!"

With a chuckle, Lisa wraps her pinky around Klee's. "I will come back, Klee. Then we can make all those delicious treats and eat them together."

The young girl's lips quirk, before she breaks out into a wavering smile. "Mhm! It's a promise!"

Good. Thank goodness. Lisa pushes herself up, only to be met with the one gaze that hurts the most to meet.

"Jean."

The Acting Grand Master squeezes her eyes shut, taking a deep, shaky breath. It pains Lisa so to see her like this— barely able to keep herself together.

That won't do. That won't do at all.

"Jean," Lisa tries again, hating how weak her voice sounds. "Look at me, please?"

Jean's bottom lip quivers, but she opens her eyes. "Lisa."

Kaeya takes the hint that the two of them needed some privacy, and quietly ushers the rest of the group out of the room. Lisa takes one last look at her friends— her family— before they're gone from her sight. Venti is the only one who stays.

"My sweet, sweet Dandelion Knight," Lisa sighs, stepping forward to cup Jean's face in her hands. "I'm going to come back to you, so don't mourn me, alright? I'll come back, no matter how long it takes."

Jean breathes out a puff of laughter, eyes downcast. "Please don't give me that kind of hope, Lisa—"

"You don't believe me?" Lisa interrupts with a pout. "I'm hurt. I may not be as powerful as Alice, but I can assure you that I have my ways. So, even when you do feel my absence, know that I will never leave your side. Call to me in the winds that flow through Mondstadt, and I will come to listen." Her voice cracks, and she knows that Jean is hiding all of her devastation, bottling it up until Lisa isn't there to see her break.

"Lisa, I—"

"I love you, Jean." Her voice trembles. It's embarrassing, how fragile Lisa sounds in that moment. "Every afternoon we've spent together, every time we've been in each other's company, every time I've made you tea and stolen you away from your work so you would give yourself some time to breathe," Lisa spills her words, desperate to get everything out before it's too late, "I've loved every single moment I've spent with you. Don't forget to give yourself time to relax, Jean; you need it more than anyone in the Knights."

"Lisa, it's almost time," Venti says softly. "I'll take you one last place before I send you off. Where would you like to go?"

"Starsnatch Cliff," Lisa says without hesitating. "Jean. Don't forget this little old librarian, alright? Or I'll—"

"How could I ever forget you, Lisa?" Jean sobs, tears finally spilling over. She manages to smile, though— a shaky, miserable smile through her grief. "How- how could I forget about the woman I fell in love with, knowing that her life was moving much faster than mine? If I could just find a way to return those years you lost," she rambles, wiping at her tears. "If I could just... save you—"

"Jean," Lisa chokes out, vision blurry. Can ghosts cry, she wonders? She certainly feels like she could cry, right about now. "My lovely Jean, it's alright. It was only a matter of time, so please don't... don't..."

Don't cry.

"Lisa."

Venti steps forward, placing a hand on Jean's shoulder. "We must be going, now. I won't be able to keep her spirit for much longer."

Jean nods, a sniffling mess. "Take... take care of her. Please."

"Of course," Venti responds, before gesturing for Lisa to step closer to him. "Are you ready?"

"That's a silly question," Lisa chuckles, taking Venti's extended hand. A green glow begins to envelop the two of them, and Lisa can't help but keep her gaze trained on Jean, who's watching them go. Jean meets her eyes, and she mouths three words to Lisa. One last time.

"Take care, Jean. I love you dearly."

And finally, the sands of Lisa's hourglass come to rest.

[lady-divine-writes]

A Blessed Fall (Rated NC17)

Watching Aziraphale fall breaks Crowley’s heart. For Aziraphale, however, it’s a beautiful experience - birth and death, transformation, and a new beginning all wrapped up in one.

Because he’s not alone. (1819 words)

Crowley gazes lovingly at his angel’s naked body – a glorious sight he thought he might never see. He leans in to kiss the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. The smile he wears as he watches Aziraphale’s breathing slow, his breathing settle, is genuine, but bittersweet in nature. He’s proud of his angel. Proud of how he’s chosen to handle things. Proud to be with him.

He just wishes things could have turned out another way.

Aziraphale looks different now. So terribly different. His curly white locks have become silver-grey. A dashing silver-grey, Crowley feels. They lend color to his face, make him appear less pale, less ethereal.

Less untouchable.

That naïve blush of rose in his lips and cheeks has blossomed into a fiery stain, washing away any hint of innocence that once existed before. But the most obvious change has been his angel’s eyes. They’ve gone black from the whites straight through the blues. A shiny, silky black, like an oil slick.

It’s not unattractive. It’s just going to take some getting used to.

“How do you feel, angel?” Crowley whispers. His word usage may seem unusual, all things considered, but he refuses to stop calling Aziraphale angel. When he started, it wasn’t so much a nickname but an indicator of what Aziraphale was, the boundary that existed ever between them.

6000 years later, it means so much more.

“I feel … sleepy … sore,” Aziraphale teases, hugging his pillow beneath him and giggling like a fool.

At least he’s a happy fool, Crowley thinks, his smile trembling at the corners.

“I should imagine so. That happens the first time, or so I’ve been told.”

“You mean you don’t know?” Aziraphale asks, and Crowley’s smile trembles a little more. Aziraphale may not look as innocent as he did, but it’s still there, buried deep inside.

“I don’t. This was a first for both of us,” Crowley reassures him. He runs his nails lightly down Aziraphale’s back, skirting his shoulders, avoiding the shattered nubs of broken wings. He closes his eyes and pictures Aziraphale’s wings as they were – strong, graceful arches of pristine white feathers towering over his head, shielding him from the rain.

His wings will grow back, albeit a different color.

Unfortunately, them coming in will hurt twice as much as him losing them.

He told Aziraphale that. Warned him. He didn’t want to. He wanted to put it off, give Aziraphale time to adjust before he came at him with more bad news. But Aziraphale asked him, begged him not to lie to him even for his sake. So Crowley told him, explained it in detail the way he remembered it, Aziraphale looking at him the entire time with sadness creasing his brow. Crowley thought Aziraphale had been devastated by his description, maybe frightened by the thought of more pain. But Aziraphale put a hand to his demon’s cheek and said, “Oh, you poor dear.”

“Wha-what? What are you talking about?”

“So alone. So scared. So full of doubt. That wasn’t right. Wasn’t right at all.” Aziraphale smiled. “At least I’ll have you here beside me. I wish I could have been there for you.”

Then Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and kissed it to keep from losing the last bit of strength he had left.

Crowley didn’t particularly want to be reminded of falling, but it wasn’t the kind of thing he could forget. He didn’t need Aziraphale falling to trigger it. It would be easy to distance himself from Aziraphale now. Maybe that was what the Almighty was counting on when She pulled this little trick.

Finally separating them for good.

That’s what started this anyhow.

The worst part is Aziraphale would understand.

He’d forgive him.

But Crowley couldn’t do that to Aziraphale. No matter what happened between them, he could never abandon Aziraphale. Not when his angel truly needed him. Crowley may be many things. He’s vain beyond belief. He may even be a coward on occasion. But he loved Aziraphale more than he loved himself.

He couldn’t leave him.

Crowley fell from Grace because he’d asked questions. Too many questions. He was a menace with questions.

Aziraphale didn’t fall because they’d made love to one another. That actually came after. A celebration of sorts.

Aziraphale fell because he said no to God.

He’d received an express post envelope that morning from Gabriel – one of the Archangel’s long-winded letters pretentiously printed in gold ink on white parchment. It read, “Principality Aziraphale: It has come to the Almighty’s attention that you have been conspiring with a demon of Hell (because, of course, there are demons of other places, Aziraphale had joked to himself, such as Waitrose and the laundromat) by the name of Crawly for the entirety of your assigned years on Earth. After lengthy consideration by a congregation of your superiors, this has been deemed fraternizing with the enemy, a crime that carries with it a substantial penalty. It is therefore required by the home office that you cease all communication with said demon immediately or suffer the consequences.

Sincerely;

Gabriel

Archangel”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes as he snapped his fingers and sent back a message of his own that read, “Dear Archangel Gabriel: I apologize but I find I must decline your recent request on the grounds that it is wholly unreasonable and unnecessary. Nothing with regard to my relationship with the demon Anthony J Crowley makes me unfit or incapable of doing my job on Earth as outlined in its description. Neither has it for the past six plus millennia, as evidenced by my list of accomplishments (see attached). Therefore I see no reason to terminate said relationship as a requirement for me to continue my duties. Thank you, however, for your concern. It is duly noted. If there is a fine that I must pay for my perceived insubordination, please let me know what it is so that I may appeal it expeditiously through the appropriate channels.

Sincerely;

Aziraphale

Principality”

Aziraphale felt no fear nor hesitation in sending that message off, even with the knowledge that it could be forwarded to God Herself. He’d done nothing wrong. He had no intention of shirking his angelic duties. He never had. But he also had no intention of giving up the one thing on Earth that was his and his alone - his lifelong friendship with Crowley. Being friends with a demon didn’t make him a lesser angel, and as such, he didn’t feel he should be forced to make a choice.

Aziraphale waited for a response, but when he received none, he put the matter out of his mind.

Later that evening, while drinking with Crowley in his bookshop, he felt an odd pain in his chest. It hit him hard like a hammer straight to the ribcage, radiating to his shoulders and down his torso, filling every limb with white hot pain. Were he mortal, he might have thought he were having a heart attack. He’d never experienced anything like it before. It felt like a fork digging through his insides, trying to tear him apart.

Crowley seemed to know it for what it was just by looking at him. He ran to the angel’s side and took his hand as Aziraphale slid off the sofa and fell to the floor, writhing in agony. Crowley caught his gaze and locked on to it, determined not to let go, even when the fire beneath Aziraphale’s flesh began to burn him as well.

“Stay with me,” Crowley whispered. “It’s going to be all right. I promise. But whatever you do, don’t give in to it. Don’t let it destroy you.”

“I … I won’t …” Aziraphale said, anchoring his gaze to the serpent eyes in front of him, using them to keep him grounded.

Then the world went black and all he could feel was pain.

Pain and Crowley’s hand holding his.

But now, lying beside Crowley on his enormous mattress, Aziraphale doesn’t feel any different - apart from the throbbing in his back where his wings have been singed off. Which is to say he doesn’t feel Evil. Ironically, he feels that his capacity for love, for compassion, may have even grown somewhat. If that’s a side-effect, if it’s temporary, only time will tell. But he should find a way to use that for as long as it lasts.

Crowley had said that a demon could get in real trouble for doing the right thing, but he’s been performing blessings for thousands of years. Aziraphale needs to find out how Crowley has been able to manage it without getting caught. He definitely sees the opportunity to exploit a few loopholes.

He finds himself getting excited just thinking about it.

The act of falling, the physical manifestation of it, is what he’d always imagined birth and dying feeling like, only in reverse. There are things he’ll miss about being an angel. Absolutely there are things he’ll miss. But he’s choosing not to think of those right now. He’s gone through a transformation, a new stage in his existence. He’s metamorphosed, become a dark butterfly. And at the other end of his fall was Crowley, kissing his forehead, murmuring words of encouragement …

… even praying for his safe return.

Before he’d opened his eyes, he heard Crowley say that he’d love him forever. He’d take care of him, stand beside him no matter what he turned into, and Aziraphale couldn’t help grinning.

It sounded like a wedding vow.

But the oddest thing of all is the thing he’d feared the most – he doesn’t feel God’s love any less than he had before. He thought for sure it had been torn from him in the process of falling and that there’d be a void, but it was still there. He may be mistaken, but it feels that way.

Maybe because he has Crowley with him, loving him enough for both God and himself.

All in all, along with making love to his demon, falling has actually been a beautiful experience.

Fancy.

“Are you … are you scared?” Crowley asks.

“No,” Aziraphale says without pausing to think, wiping at the worry on Crowley’s face with a kiss on the lips. “Not a whit.”

“How …?” Crowley shakes his head, his voice dissolving with every word “… how can you say that? Everything you had, the life you knew … it’s all over.”

“It’s not all over. Stop being such an alarmist.” Aziraphale rests his forehead against Crowley’s and scrunches his nose, trying to lure a smile from his demon. “Listen - are you willing to stay with me, dear boy?”

“Every minute.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Crowley sniffs. “I … I swear.”

“Then I choose not to see this as an ending” - Aziraphale pulls Crowley down beside him and wraps his arms around him - “but the beginning of a great adventure.”

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #467

Top Ten Romantic Couples in Superhero Movies (& TV)

It’s Valentine’s Day this weekend. Woo, I guess? I dunno. I’m not generally cynical about holidays but Valentine’s Day does seem to be entirely focused on selling cards without any of the associated pleasantries of, say, Christmas or Halloween. I’d rather just try to be nice to my wife all year round. At least because of the apocalypse all the restaurants are closed so we can’t be tempted to pay through the nose for a set menu. Anyway, it gives me a strained excuse to tie this week’s Top Ten to something vaguely romantic.

Superheroes are often horny. This seems to be a defining characteristic of the artform. Whether it’s their descent from ancient myths, or their creators’ origins in writing romance books, or just a function of genre storytelling in the mid-twentieth century, there’s quite a lot of romantic angst in superhero stories. Pretty much every superhero has a significant other; Lois Lane even got her own comic that was actually called Superman’s Girlfriend, Lois Lane. It’s hard to conceive of many heroes without their primary squeeze, and often – as we get multiple media adaptations of characters – we can add diversity or a twist to the proceedings by picking a lesser-known love interest, or one from earlier in the character’s fictional history; for instance, Smallville beginning with Cark Kent’s teenage crush Lana Lang, or The Amazing Spider-Man swapping out Mary Jane Watson for Gwen Stacey.

Anyway, I’m talking this week about my favourite superhero couples. I’ve decided to focus on superhero adaptations – that is, the characters from movies and films based on superhero comics or characters. I find this a little bit easier as I don’t have a phenomenal knowledge of sixty years of Avengers comics, but I have seen all the movies a bunch. As many comics as I’ve read, and as much as I love various ink-and-paper pairings, I can arguably talk more authoritatively about the fillums than the funny books. And let’s be real here, kids: my favourite comic book romantic couple is Chromedome and Rewind in Transformers. Also if I split them in two I can talk about comic couples next year. Woohoo!

It really is hard thinking of these things nearly nine years in, folks.

So! Here, then, are my favourite movie-TV Couples in Capes. Obviously there’s a fair bit of MCU in here. And I’ve been pretty specific about “superhero” romances: so no Hellboy and Liz Sherman, sadly (and I do really like them in the movies, of which they really need to make a third). Some are civvies-and-supes; some are capes-and-capes. You’ll work it out.

Superman & Lois Lane (Christopher Reeve & Margot Kidder, Superman, 1978): who else? The most famous romance in all of comics, a combo so strong it remains the focus of pretty much every interpretation of the character, but arguably never better than here; so good are Reeve and Kidder that their fast-talking banter and inherent goodness set the template for a huge swathe of other comic adaptations to follow. She’s sarky and streetwise; he’s gormless and good-hearted. She leaps in where angels fear to tread, he’s an invulnerable alien in disguise. They have buckets of chemistry and an utterly believable (tentative) romance. They’re perfect performances and the scenes of Clark in Metropolis for the first time (including Superman’s balcony interview with Lois) are the best bits of an already excellent film.

Raven & Beast Boy (Tara Strong & Greg Cipes, Teen Titans Go!, 2014): on a totally different register, we have the comedy stylings of the Teen Titans. Raven and Beast Boy had a flirtatious relationship on the original Titans series, but on this longer-running and much more demented comedy follow-up, they were allowed to make the romance more official (I nearly said “explicit” but, y’know… it’s not that). The jokes and banter – BB the love-struck, jealous suitor, Raven the too-cool partner who feigns nonchalance – build and build, but every now and again they’re allowed a moment of genuine heartfelt romance, and it hits all the more strongly amidst the ultra-violence and outrageous comedy.

Captain America & Agent Carter (Chris Evans & Hayley Atwell, Captain America: The First Avenger, 2011): the premier couple of the MCU, Steve and Peggy spend a whole movie flirting (she sees the goodness of him even before he gets all hench) before finally arranging a date that, we all know, is very much postponed. Peggy casts a shadow over the rejuvenated Cap and the MCU as a whole, founding SHIELD, inspiring dozens of heroes, and counselling Steve to her dying days. She remains Steven’s true north (like Supes with Lois, Peggy’s an ordinary human who is the actual hero of an actual super-powered hero), guiding him through the chaos and tragedy of Endgame, until they both get to live happily ever after. Even though he snogged her niece.

Batman & Catwoman (Michael Keaton & Michelle Pfeiffer, Batman Returns, 1992): Pfeiffer delivers a barnstorming performance as Selina Kyle, all barely-supressed mania and seductive feline charm. The chemistry between her and Keaton is electric, and propels the film forward even when the Penguin-runs-for-mayor stuff gets a bit daft and icky. There are beautiful moments of romantic comedy when they’re both trying to cover up injuries they gave each other, and of course there’s “mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it” – a line that runs a close second to “dance with the devil” when it comes to Burton-Batman quotations (just ahead of “never rub another man’s rhubarb”). Burton, generally favouring the macabre villains over the straighter edges of the heroic Batman, nevertheless makes great play of the duality of the character, and how this is something he and Catwoman can share – both “split right down the centre” – but also how this means a happy ending for either of them is impossible.

Spider-Man & Mary Jane (Tobey Maguire & Kirsten Dunst, Spider-Man, 2002): whilst a lot of this is really down to the sexiness of them kissing upside-down in the rain, there’s a nice duality to Peter and MJ seeing through each other too: he sees the wounded humane soul beneath her it-girl persona; she sees the kind, caring man underneath his geek baggage. This arc plays out beautifully across the first two films (ending in that wonderfully accepting “Go get ‘em, tiger”) before sadly getting all murky and unsatisfying in the murky and unsatisfying third film. Still: that kiss.

Wonder Woman & Steve Trevor (Gal Gadot & Chris Pine, Wonder Woman, 2017): probably the film that hews closest to the Clark-Lois dynamic of the original Superman, to the point where it includes an homage to the alleyway-mugging scene as Diana deflects a bullet. Steve is Diana’s window into man’s world, showing her the horror of the First World War but managing to also be a sympathetic ally and never talking down or mansplaining anything. He’s a hero in his own right – very similar to another wartime Steve on this list – and very much an ideal match to the demigod he’s showing round Europe. And, of course, Gadot’s Diana is incredible, both niaive and vulnerable whilst also an absolute badass. There is an enduring warm chemistry to the pair, with a relationship which we actually see consummated – relatively rare for superheroes! The inevitability of his heroic sacrifice does nothing to lessen the tragedy, and no I’ve not seen Wonder Woman 1984 yet.

Hawkeye & Laura Barton (Jeremy Renner & Linda Cardellini, Avengers: Age of Ultron, 2015): I love these guys! I love that Hawkeye has a relatively normal, stable family life. He has a big old farmhouse that he wants to remodel, he’s got two kids and a third on the way… he’s got something to live for, something to lose. It humanises him amidst the literal and figurative gods of the Avengers. And they’re cute together, bickering and bantering, and of course she is supportive of his Avenging. I hope we get to see more of Laura and the kids in the Hawkeye series, and I hope nothing bad happens to them now they’ve all been brought back to life.

Wanda Maximoff & Vision (Elizabeth Olsen & Paul Bettany, Avengers: Infinity War, 2018): theirs is a difficult relationship to parse, because they’re together so briefly. They cook paprikash together in Civil War before having a bit of a bust-up, and by Infinity War they’re an official couple, albeit on the run (and on different sides). That movie does a great job in establishing their feelings for each other in very little screentime, with their heroic characteristics on full display, before the shockingly awful tragedy of Wanda killing Vision to save the galaxy, before Thanos rewinds time, brings him back to life, and kills him again, and then wins. Their relationship going forward, in WandaVision, is even trickier, because we don’t know what’s up yet, and at times they’re clearly not acting as “themselves”, defaulting to sitcom tropes and one-liners. Will Vision survive, and if he does, will their relationship? Who can say, but at least they’ll always have Edinburgh, deep-fried kebabs and all.

Batman & Andrea Beaumont (Kevin Conroy & Dana Delany, Batman: Mask of the Phantasm, 1993): woah, Batman’s back but it’s a different Batman, say whaaaat. Animated Batman has had a few romances, from the great (Talia al-Ghul) to the disturbingly icky (Batgirl, ewwww), but his relationship with Andrea Beaumont is the best. Tweaking the Year One formula to give young Bruce a love interest that complicates his quest is a golden idea, and making her a part of the criminality and corruptiuon that he’s fighting is a suitably tragic part of the Batman origin story. Conroy and Delany give great performances, him wringing pathos out of Bruce, torn between heart and duty (“It just doesn’t hurt so bad anymore,” he wails to his parents’ grave, “I didn’t count on being happy”), her channelling golden age Hollywood glamour. The tragedy of them rekindling their relationship years later, only to wind up on different sides again, is – again – so very Batman. It’s a beautiful, earnest, very Batman relationship, a great titanic tragedy of human emotions and larger-than-life ideals. And they both look good in black.

Harley Quinn & Poison Ivy (Kaley Cuoco & Lake Bell, Harley Quinn, 2020): this one’s a little bit of a cheat, as I’ve only seen the first season of the show, where Harley and Ivy don’t even get together. But in the wider, non-canonical sense of these being characters who are part of the pop-cultural ether, Harley and Ivy will always be a couple, I feel; and there’s definitely enough in there already to see the affection between them, not yet consummated. They adore each other, are always there for each other, and as the season follows Harley getting out of her own way and acknowledging the abuse of her relationship with Joker – and finally getting over it in the healthiest way possible for a bleached-white manic pixie in roller derby gear. And all through this, holding her hand, is Ivy. They’re utterly made for each other, and I’m glad that they do get together in season two. I hope that Margot Robbie’s rendition of the character can likewise find happiness with a flesh-and-blood Ivy. Hell, just cast Lake Bell again. She’s great.

Just bubbling under – and I’m really gutted I couldn’t fit them in – was Spider-Man & M.J. from Spider-Man: Far From Home. Like Batman, I’m comfortable including multiple continuities here, and those cuties offer a different spin on a classic relationship.

[spinaxxx1]

BATIM: Nothing Comes For Free

“No, no, no! You’re doing it all wrong, Alice!” Susie snapped. The ink angel stopped in her tracks and looked to the female human. She had been trying to perfect the song and dance routine that Susie Campbell had written for the new cartoon that was to be filmed the very next day. But no matter how hard she tried, her efforts just wouldn’t please the human. Alice’s black hair plastered to her head and hung around her shoulders in a defeated fashion. Her normally glowing halo dimmed to a mere shimmer when Susie yelled at her for the twentieth time in the same hour.

           Alice let out a sigh of anguish. For she knew that Susie would not give up until she had done the routine just how she wanted.

           “From the top again!” The lady commanded and leaned against the wall of the animation studio. Ms. Campbell had been given a large enough room for which she could mentor the ink angel in acting skills, particularly in dancing and singing.

           The petite ink girl raced back to the corner of the room and began the routine again. She stepped forward rhythmically and began the song once more.

           Here it comes again, Alice thought. The very part she always messed up. It was a difficult twirl and leap that Susie wanted her to perform. Nonetheless, Alice Angel tried her best to please. She had almost made it through the twirl when her high heels bumped against one another. The girl went to take a step forward to keep her feet from tangling. But it was no use. The pointed bottom of her shoe got caught in a crack in the floorboard and she pitched forward. Alice fell right on her face with a screech of fear. But that fear was not from falling. It was from how the human was going to react to this latest mess up. The ink angel cautiously lifted up her head. Ms. Campbell was coming over. Did she finally feel guilty for making her do so many rounds of the dance? That was not likely.

           Susie knelt down and helped the ink creature up. Alice knew that she didn’t do that to be nice. That just meant she had other things to complain about.

           “Oh, Alice! Look what you did to your bow!” The human pouted. Alice looked down to find her white bow knocked askew. It was very noticeable since her dress was a dark black just like her shoes and hair. Susie adjusted the garment and then noticed another flaw on the girl. “You smudged your makeup, too!” Ms. Campbell had put some pink blush on the angel’s cheeks in an attempt to give them some color. Otherwise, her skin was as white as paper. The human roughly rubbed her fingers on the ink girl’s slightly chubby cheeks.

           “Sorry, Susie. It won’t happen again.” Alice replied, not making eye contact. She discreetly tried to pull her hair away from the small white horns that protruded from her head. Unfortunately, the lady took notice right away.

           “I do wish you would keep those covered, Alice.” The human’s greedy fingers proceeded to cover the undesirables over with the hair again.

           “But they’re part of who I am. You can’t change that, Susie.” Alice softly argued. She knew that raising her voice at the woman was not necessarily a good thing.

           “Perhaps not.” Said Ms. Campbell. “But they’re still not very angel-like. Anyway, let’s get back to practice, shall we?”

           “Susie, could you possibly give me a demonstration of exactly what you want me to do?” The ink angel probed. She had a feeling that the woman was asking something impossible of her.

           “Sure, you need to do it like this.” Susie proceeded to perform the routine. She did just like Alice had done right up to the point where the difficult stunt came in. The human stopped halfway through the twirl and stared at the cartoon character.

           “Well?” Alice probed but not surprised in the least.

           “Yes, well, you know what I mean.” The lady said shortly.

           “You can’t really do it, can you?” The ink girl asked. Susie huffed and turned red. It was clear that she was insulted that she couldn’t do it either. And that it pained her to admit such a truth.

           “Maybe not.” She said with puffed up cheeks.

           “But if you can’t do it, then how do you expect me to?”

           “It’s simple, Alice. You’re an angel. Angels are supposed to be perfect and flawless.” Susie explained.

           “But that’s not the truth!” Alice interjected. “I make mistakes just like you! Why can’t you see that? I’ll never be what you envision a perfect angel to be.”

           The woman shied away, pretending to be sad. Like the angel had hurt her feelings. But it was just her way of manipulating the poor ink girl into feeling bad and getting her to apologize.

           “Oh, come on, Susie.” Alice said sympathetically and reached out for Ms. Campbell with her oversized gloved hand. “We’re friends. We shouldn’t be judging one another on what we can and can’t do. Henry always taught me to be kind and forgiving. So I’ll be patient with you as long as you agree to be patient with me.”

           Susie turned back around with her fake teary eyes.

           “Thank you, Alice! You’re always so understanding of me!” She beamed and hugged the ink girl. “Let’s take things nice and slow, my beautiful angel.” Alice’s halo started to glow brighter as a smile came across her face. The light seemed to illuminate the short and stubby horns that protruded from the dark hair. Susie tried her best to overlook those growths to the best of her ability. The lady wrapped an arm around the angel’s shoulders and held her close. “We need each other, you and I. Sometimes I feel that we’re more than best friends. Like we’re part of the same person but in two different bodies. Inseparable. You feel this too, don’t you, Alice?”

           This kind of talk made the ink creature uncomfortable. Her smile drooped as she hesitated to answer her mentor. The truth was, Susie envied Alice so much for her beauty. They had spent so much time together that Ms. Campbell had convinced herself that she was really Alice, the true voice and inspiration behind the angel. Susie wanted nothing more than to be beautiful and treated like Alice was by the rest of the staff in the animation studio. Her boss, Mr. Joey Drew, seemed to encourage this fantasy that she was truly Alice Angel. He even mistakenly called her Alice a few times, but didn’t bother to correct himself or his employee. As long as the employees were able to manage their workload, nothing else seemed to matter much to Mr. Drew. The success of his company was his top priority. Anything else was much lower on his totem of responsibilities.

           Just when Alice was about to be pressured to give an answer, the door to their practice room opened. A young girl pressed the creaky door open until its handle bumped against the wall.

           “Sorry to interrupt, Ms. Campbell, but Mr. Drew wants to see you.” She squeaked out, clearly not comfortable in Susie’s presence either.

           “Thank you, miss. Tell Joey I’ll be there in a moment.” The woman answered her. Alice watched as the young girl gave a quick nod and moved herself away as quick as possible. Susie then turned her attention back to the ink angel.

           “Go take a break, Alice. We’ll pick back up later.”

           The petite girl gave a sigh of relief as Ms. Campbell released the hold on her shoulders and went to leave the room. Her voice didn’t have any hint of anger or annoyance at giving the angel a break. This was most likely because she knew that Mr. Drew would say some words of encouragement to her. Compliment on what a good job she was doing in mentoring Alice.

           As soon as the door closed behind Susie, Alice wasted no time in rushing out of the room as well. The ink girl was desperate to get away from the place that caused her negative thoughts. She was usually very calm and collected, hardly ever showing signs that people were getting under her skin. But there were times, like now, when the stress got to her and she couldn’t hold in her feelings any longer.

Alice raced to her favorite window that overlooked a small parking lot and the busy streets of New York. White gloves plastered against the glass as she stared out, longing to be free from the animation studio that seemed more like a prison nowadays. A small thud noise accompanied the collision of her forehead on the upper left pane. She wasn’t the only one that wanted freedom from the studio. Her ink siblings also longed to see the outside world. But they were not allowed out there. Joey Drew didn’t want them to be influenced by the real world and feared that they would not want to come back if they ventured out there. He would not hear of any talk of wanting to leave the studio. Leaving could very well expose the truth of the unnatural births of the ink creatures and result in Mr. Drew losing his precious ink machine to the hungry, greedy world.

Alice sunk down to the floor, curling her legs up to her chest and began to sob inky black tears. She realized that being born from the ink machine didn’t give her or her siblings the most knowledgeable brains, but she was not stupid to the fact that most of the humans were using them to gain benefits for themselves. When would this stop? When would they start being treated as equals? The only one that truly cared about them was….

“Are you okay, Alice?” Came the warm voice of Henry. He was their true creator. Not Joey, who claimed ownership of anything and everything that he could. Henry had brought his creations to life with love. Mr. Drew believed that they were alive merely because of the ink machine. Sure, it helped to mold the characters, but it’s certainly not what gave them their personalities or hearts. That was the result of Henry’s dedication to his work and the true love that only a father could give.

The ink angel looked up to see her fatherly figure looking very concerned for her welfare. She immediately tried to rub away her tears and be happy for the man that she so dearly loved. Unfortunately, her gloves only succeeded in smudging the black streaks across her face.

“I’m fine.” Said Alice tersely.

“You sure don’t look it.” Said the male human. “Tell me what’s going on.” He proceeded to sit next to his ink daughter.

“It’s Susie.” The angel said with a sigh. “She’s getting so much worse lately. All she wants from me is perfection. Perfect dancing, singing, acting…. I just can’t do it.” Her eyes shot down to the floor as her body tensed up as she thought of how Susie kept pressuring her to do things just right. “She’s jealous. I know she is. But I don’t understand why. What is it that I have that she doesn’t?”

“I think it’s because you are ten times the person that she’ll ever be. And it drives her crazy that it just comes naturally to you.” Henry described. “She can only dream of being like you.”

“But what’s so special about me? I can’t do anything she wants me to. I always mess it up!” A couple inky tears went down her face again. “Maybe I should just shave my horns down and become a real person like Susie wants…”

“No!” The man scolded and scooped the girl’s hands into his. Alice looked surprised at this sudden gesture of kindness. “Don’t ever change who you are, Alice! Bendy, Boris, and I love you just the way you are. You’re already perfect to us. And that’s all that matters. Who cares what Susie or anyone else thinks! And if you don’t believe me, just ask Bendy or Boris. They’ll tell you the same thing.”

“Thanks, Henry.” Said Alice, wiping away a tear. “That makes me feel a little better. But that doesn’t solve my problem with Susie. I said that we were friends – and we used to be – but she’s just changed so much….for the worst. It’s not even fun to practice with her anymore.”

“Perhaps I should try talking to her about it.” Henry suggested.

“That won’t work.” The ink angel hung her head in defeat. “The only person she listens to is Mr. Drew.”

“Then it’s settled!” The man beamed, startling his girl. “I’ll talk to Joey first and tell him that Susie needs to tone down the criticizing of you.”            “Do you really think that’ll work?” Alice was skeptical of this plan.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

The ink angel gave a small smile before it ultimately disappeared again. Henry tried and tried to turn his ink daughter’s frown upside down. But this time it was proving difficult.

Just then, a pair of footsteps came their way. Both of the people recognized the heavy plodding of the shoes could only belong to one person: Boris the wolf. The black and white cartoon wolf was walking slowly to balance the plentiful cans of bacon soup he had just swiped from the pantry. Boris’s room had enough bacon soup in there to last a normal person nearly a year. But for the wolf, that stock would only last two months at best. Alice often had to scold her ink brother for eating too much food in one sitting. For he was constantly munching on any snack he could get his paws on. His behavior often started bad habits in his younger brother Bendy. The two of them liked to played pranks in which to snatch other peoples’ lunch. It usually ended okay if Bendy was the one swiping the food as he would give it back after he got a good laugh. Boris, on the other hand, would just eat it and forget about giving it back. This often got them in trouble with the studio’s employees.

As soon as the anthropomorphic wolf came into view, Alice and Henry saw the large stack piled up in his arms. Boris was so greedy with his food that he even carried one in his white muzzle.

“Boris!” Henry scolded. The ink wolf’s ears shot straight into the air as he realized he had been caught. His guilty muzzle drooped down in their direction as he turned to face the person that was reprimanding him. When he turned, the man noticed yet another can resting in the back pocket of his white overalls. “That’s too much food for one wolf!”

Boris attempted to give a justification for his actions, but his response was too muffled by the can for the human to understand any of it.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

The wolf was surprised at who was scolding him. Usually it was his sister. But she wasn’t even looking at him anymore. Her sullen expression fell to the floor again. Boris cocked his head to the side, confused as to why Alice had not said a word to him. He had never seen her so sad. She always did such a good job of being strong for both herself and her family. The ink wolf all but forgot what he was doing and dropped all the cans to the floor. They clanged loudly and rolled in every which direction. He then came down to his sister’s level. Boris moved himself on his hands and knees up to the ink girl. His gentle eyes stared at Alice, who had not looked back. The wolf realized he still had a can in his mouth. He promptly took it out and offered it to the angel.

“Want some soup? It will help a stomach ache.” His friendly voice sounded.

“No thanks, Boris.” She said and hugged her legs even tighter to her chest. “I’m not hungry.”

“She’s having some issues with her mentor.” Henry told his wolf child. “Not meeting Susie’s ridiculous expectations.”

“Gee, I’m sorry, Alice. I know how that feels.” Boris admitted. “Sammy’s got a new song that I can’t seem to perfect either. The notes are just too difficult to perform correctly. I don’t know what he was thinking when he wrote it.” A man named Sammy Lawrence was Boris’s boss. He had taught the wolf to play clarinet and allowed him to be in the orchestra. However, most people in the studio would call that man weird – or even crazy – due to his unusual habits. For example, there were times when he told all of his employees to clear out from the recording studio and then he would mysteriously go turn on the projector that pointed at the back wall of their stage and then run back into the recording room like a madman and lock everyone out. No one knew what he did in there when that happened. They all knew better than to ask the madman that was Sammy. And that was only one of his odd habits.

The wolf’s ears perked up as he thought of a grand idea to cheer up his sister.

“But there’s always one song that I could never mess up. Not even in my sleep.” He then stood up and offered a gloved hand to the petite girl. “Come with me, Alice. I want to show you something.”

The angel slowly looked up to find her brother staring down at her. She slowly met his hand and let him help her up. He ushered her in the direction of the elevator. Boris then helped up Henry as well.

“Good job, buddy.” The man winked as he went past. For Henry knew the very song he was referring to. “She’s going to love it!” The wolf put a humble smile on his face. He had only taken a couple steps after his family when he wheeled back around and reached down for a few cans of bacon soup. Boris had only managed to pick up three when he received a gruff “Ahem!” from behind him. His white muzzle looked up at his father. Henry raised a single eyebrow, watching what his ink wolf would do next. Boris snatched up a fourth can without even looking where his gloved paw went. He then resumed his path to the elevator with his family.

The three of them settled themselves into the elevator when yet another pair of footsteps came running (not walking) in their direction. Around the corner came the little ink demon himself. If his family’s voices had not attracted him to their location, the sound of the bacon soup cans crashing to the floor certainly would have done the trick. His little boots pounded quickly against the studio’s floor in an effort to reach the lift before it descended.

“Wait for me! I’m coming too!” Bendy cried. His round head bore his usual big and toothy smile. Being the youngest of the ink creatures, the little demon was not even half the height of his siblings. The little black boots moved as fast as they could go. He dodged and weaved through the soup cans littered on the floor. Bendy thought he had gotten past them all and didn’t see the last one as his boot came down on it. The can went flying backwards as the ink child pitched forward and ultimately slid across the floor.

Henry, Boris, and Alice watched as the boy came belly-whopping right into the elevator. The human moved his foot so that it would block his boy from colliding with the old lift’s cage wall. Bendy immediately popped himself up and fixed his white bow that had been knocked askew. Gloved fists balled up and were placed on his hips. He wore a big smile across his face as he proudly lifted up his chin to the ceiling. With eyes closed, he pretended like his slip-up was a grand stunt.

“I meant to do that!” The child boasted. “It’s a new thing I’ve been practicing for next week’s cartoon!”

            “You plan to slide across the deck of the pirate ship?” Henry chuckled and teased his youngest ink child.

           “Sure! It’ll knock the Butcher Gang right overboard it will!” Bendy still gloated. The man laughed a bit more before turning to Boris.

           “Is everyone ready?” He asked. The wolf’s white muzzle gave a nod. A gloved finger then went for the correct button.

           “Where are we going, Boris?” The ink demon asked his big brother.

           “To the music department.”

           “Oh.” Said Bendy, his smile immediately vanishing.

           “Don’t worry, little B. Sammy isn’t there right now. He’s out on break.” Boris explained. Had the ink demon known that was where they were going, he would have thought twice about stepping into the elevator. Bendy didn’t like going down there unless to work on a dance routine that was required by one of Joey’s cartoons. The truth was that the little ink demon was afraid of the music director, Sammy Lawrence. It was clear that the man did not care for his job that much, especially when he had to work with the ink child. For Bendy annoyed him to no end. The ink demon’s incessant pranks and tap dancing around really got to Mr. Lawrence. And he got an awful look in his eye when Bendy got on his nerves. The worst part of it was that the ink demon often got that look when he had not done a thing at all. That the human had judged him before they even got to know one another.

           Bendy’s little heart pounded in fear as they descended to the music department. He stuck closely to his father’s leg. Alice watched her younger brother nearly begin to shake at the thought of being caught in there by Sammy. She knew how much Bendy was afraid of that man, but there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it. And neither could Boris. Even if they tried to talk to the music director, that was all it was. They couldn’t convince him otherwise that it was mean how he singled out Bendy and tried to punish him every chance he got. Neither Boris nor Alice were treated like that to the extreme. Just the ink demon.

           The elevator creaked and jerked to a stop. Boris was the first to step out once the gated doors opened before them. Alice followed behind, and then Henry. Poor Bendy hesitated to leave the lift. His round head peered out to make sure no one was around.

           “Come along, Bendy. It’s okay.” Henry urged. The ink demon scampered over to his father’s leg, nearly hugging it as they entered the studio. All four of them looked up to their right to find the projector room overlooking the stage where all the instruments were. Each of them were placed on or next to their respective chair. Music sheets were left on the stands where the members had left them. Some were on break like Sammy and others had a day off. It was rare to find the music room completely empty like this. Boris knew that such an opportunity had to be taken advantage of. He put down his soup cans on his music sheet stand after sweeping the paper booklet on the floor. For that would not be needed for what they were here for. Alice watched as her brother brought a chair over for her and placed it upon the spot where the conductor would stand.

“Sit here, Alice. And make yourself comfortable.” The ink wolf then walked over to his chair and picked up his clarinet. Henry found himself a chair that had a violin lying in its case next to it. Bendy, however, stayed standing. That way he could make a quick exit if need be. The ink child greatly feared of being caught in there without permission. His round head nervously looked around, expecting to see Sammy come through the doorway at any moment. Inky splotches of sweat started to form between his two blunt horns. His little gloved fingers wove around one another, physically showing his worry. Henry saw this and felt very bad for his boy. How horrible it must be to feel that scared every time Mr. Lawrence was mentioned, he thought. Time and time again the man had told the music director not to physically lay a hand on his boy in punishment. But he just never cared. It was clear that if Henry was not around, that madman would certainly make poor Bendy pay for all the times he had annoyed him.

The room sat in total silence for a couple seconds as Boris fumbled his clarinet up to his muzzle. Upon arranging his fingers in the correct position, he started to play a familiar tune. The frown left Alice’s face as she realized that her brother was trying to remind her that not everything that happens in Joey Drew Studios is bad. For the song he played was the very melody that she sang in her debut cartoon titled “Sent From Above”. The ink angel began to sing along. It was just a natural response for her to sing beautifully to her own tunes. Alice started to get lost in the moment, all but forgetting the hardship she had just had with Susie. Her eyes closed as she drifted into a state of euphoria.

Henry smiled brightly at her. For she was truly happy in this moment. Her halo started to glow a vibrant white. It was as if waves of happiness flooded over the studio when her garment shimmered in the dimly lit room. Everyone around her seemed to become overwhelmed with a positive sensation as she sang to her heart’s content. Even Bendy started to forget his fear. He began to mouth the words and reenact the scene in which she sang the song, replicating her movements exactly how they were in the cartoon. His father had a hard time not laughing at the little ink demon’s antics. Henry couldn’t help but chuckle and snort a bit. This caught Alice’s attention. She opened her eyes to see what was so funny but did not stop singing. The angel nearly laughed herself when she saw her little brother passionately carrying out her role as if it were his own. It warmed her heart to know that he had memorized her parts as well as his own. That meant he really cared about what she was doing. There were times it seemed that Bendy did not pay attention, but Alice realized that this was clearly not the case.

As the song came to a close, the angel gave a sigh of content. Warm feelings resonated throughout the room. Everyone smiled in her direction. Alice was very grateful for their effort to cheer her up. And it had worked. No longer did she feel drowned by negative feelings about what her mentor had said.

“Thanks, Boris. That was very kind of you.” Alice praised the wolf, who gave a humble nod. “Thanks to all of you.” Her gaze swept to her father and little brother. Bendy gave a dramatic bow in her direction.

“Anything for you, my lady!” He said. Henry and the angel laughed at the boy’s theatrical personality.

Boris put down his clarinet and offered up the food that was still staring him in the face. The way he saw it, there were four cans and four of them. He knew there was one for everybody if they desired. However, he had a feeling that his father would decline the liquid sustenance. That meant two for him!

“How about some bacon soup now, Alice?” The wolf questioned.

“Sure. All this singing has really stirred up an appetite.” A can was gently passed from one gloved hand to the other. The angel took care in peeling off the lid and prepared to take a sip.

“Toss one over, buddy!” Bendy shouted as he hopped around waving his hands in the air. “I’m open!” Boris didn’t hesitate to throw a bacon soup can his way. The young ink demon jumped and clutched the object to his chest as it came right for him. Upon planting his little boots back on the ground, the boy threw his arms in the air like he had just scored a goal in a competitive sport.

“Touchdown!” Henry bellowed in encouragement.            “Touchdown? Nah! That was more of a slam dunk!” Bendy tried his best to recall the different scoring methods of the various sports he had heard about from the studio’s employees.

“Slam dunk is for basketball, Bendy. Touchdown is for football.” Henry explained.

“Oh…. I guess it was more of a touchdown then. Heh!” The ink demon got a bit embarrassed for mixing up his sports. He then started to gnaw on the can’s top, using his teeth as a personal can opener. None of the ink creatures had ever played any sports before, so it was a bit difficult for them to remember something that they couldn’t practice in the walls of the animation studio. Access to TV was also pretty limited in this environment as well. Joey had said that it was only a distraction that would keep them from doing their work.

“What about you, Henry? Want one?” Boris probed, just waiting for the resounding no.

“No thanks, buddy. You know I don’t really like that stuff.” The man waved it away.

“Suit yourself!” Said the ink wolf, smacking his lips in anticipation. His greedy fingers popped open both of the soups at once. Boris poured them down his gullet at the same time. This was a mere snack for the wolf, not a meal. Bendy made audible slurps as he began to consume his share. Alice, on the other hand, took her time. She slowly and politely took dainty sips of the thick liquid, even placing it down on a music stand for a break. Henry watched his ink children consuming their food for a good couple of minutes before realizing that they should be making their way out of there. The musicians’ break would surely be up soon.

“Well, I guess we should be getting you out of here and back where you all need to be before people start missing you.” The man said as he stood up.

“Yes, you should.” Came a voice from the music room’s doorway. Everyone knew that it was Sammy without even seeing the man. There was no mistaking that agitated tone. Boris’s ears shot straight up in alarm. Alice quickly stood up, ready to get out of the music director’s way. The ink angel quietly shuffled her way out of the conductor’s seat and instinctively went to her father. Bendy didn’t hesitate to hide behind Henry either.

In came Mr. Lawrence. A bunch of music sheets were piled in his hand. He shot a cold glance over to the intruders as he stopped before the stage. His gaze then went to the papers in his hand. Sammy shuffled through them impatiently, waiting for the people to get out so he could do whatever weird and creepy thing he desired. The ink wolf motioned to his family to move out. That he would handle his boss, hopefully without much consequence.

“It’s my fault, Sammy. I let them in here.” Boris confessed. “We were just having a little break of our own.”

“And what did I say about having guests in here without my permission?” The man snapped back. “You’re lucky that I don’t take your clarinet away for the rest of the afternoon. And it’s Mr. Lawrence to you!”

The ink wolf whined a bit as he hung his muzzle in shame. Thin black ears drooped around his cheeks. Now he’d done it. Boris may have done something nice for his sister, but now he would have to pay for it from his boss. One could never do anything for free at the studio. Especially not if you’re one of the ink creatures. It always seemed that much more was expected from them. The wolf awaited what his punishment was going to be.

“Boris didn’t do anything.” Came Henry’s voice. “It was my idea to come in here.” Boris quickly looked to his father as he lied for him, surprised that the human would do so.

“But Henry-!” The ink wolf tried to interject. But the man saw to it that the music director should do nothing of the sort.

“Boris is not to be punished. Not for helping his family with something they asked him for.”

Sammy averted his gaze to the other man. The wolf could tell his boss did not believe Henry. But Mr. Lawrence knew it was best to hold his tongue in front of the number two person in charge of the studio.

“Very well.” He grunted. “Just please close the door behind you.” Alice shuddered as his piercing eyes laid on her. “Susie is looking for you. I suggest you get back as soon as you can. Didn’t seem in the best mood.” The angel sighed as all of the light in her halo drained on the spot. All the happiness that had filled her heart faded at once. Her eyes drooped closed as her chin pointed to the floor. Henry hesitated to leave his wolf child alone with this man. Sammy behaved himself while the artist was around. But that may not necessarily remain so if he left the scene. Boris saw this and silently urged them once more with a gesture of his muzzle.

“Come on, guys. Let’s get you back.” The man gently ushered the other two ink creatures toward the door. He took a glance over his shoulder to make sure Mr. Lawrence was going to react accordingly. Sammy, however, wasn’t even paying attention to anyone. His focus was still on his music sheets that he was thumbing through. Henry watched as he set them down upon the stand and began to walk toward the recording booth that was a little way off to the stage’s right. A single sheet of paper fluttered down from the stack. It swayed back and forth like an autumn leaf as it glided to the floor.

“Oh! You dropped one. I’ll get it for you.” Henry stepped up to retrieve the paper. He always tried his best to be on Sammy’s good side. That way there was nothing Mr. Lawrence could be mad at him for. The music director came stomping back to the pedestal when he realized someone unauthorized was about to touch his property. But Henry had already picked it up and read the title. A confused look came over his face. Never had he heard of this title in any existing Bendy cartoons. Nor had he caught wind of it for a future skit either. Could it be that Joey had told him to compose this song far in advance of its corresponding cartoon? In fact, the notes themselves looked rather complicated even to someone that was not adept in music composition.

“The Lighter Side of Hell…?” Henry read aloud with a questioning tone. “What cartoon is this song for?”

“That’s none of your business!” Sammy snapped and snatched the paper back. “Forget you ever saw that.”

But the man was only more curious about what this song meant. He remembered that Boris had mentioned a particularly difficult song to master. His gaze went to the wolf.

“Is this the song you mentioned, Boris?”

Poor Boris only looked worried for he and his father’s sake. His head and ears drooped down in an attempt to hide behind his stand.

“What?” Said an exasperated Sammy. He wheeled around to face the cowering wolf. “What did you tell him, Boris?” He demanded.

“Boris only told me that your new song was a bit difficult to play. Didn’t say anything else. No spoilers. My buddy knows not to give away information like that. Isn’t that right, Boris?” Henry chuckled in the ink wolf’s direction, trying to lighten the mood. The ink creature only remained spooked at where this conversation was going. A dangerous look came to Sammy’s eyes. All of Henry’s ink children had learned to fear that glare. To run away as fast as they could when it came upon him. Mr. Lawrence tossed this glance at the cartoonist.

“I didn’t ask you!” He growled and gave a shove at Henry’s shoulder, whom narrowly missed it by backing away. Unknown to him, Bendy had been hovering right near his leg and squealed when his father bumped him quite suddenly.

“Oh, Jesus! I’m sorry, Bendy!” Henry apologized to the little demon. The round-headed creature stumbled out into the room, trying to get his bearings from the quick bump that had winded him. The man looked between his boy and the music director. They stared at one another with quite opposite emotions. Sammy’s was pure hate and Bendy’s was pure horror. The poor ink demon looked like he was on the verge of tears. His whole body shivered in fear. Tension rose within the room. Boris and Alice held their breath at what was going to happen next. For the music director’s stare said he wanted to hurt something – and that something was Bendy.

“Tch! Just get out of here!” Huffed Mr. Lawrence as he reluctantly held himself back from committing violence against the child. “I have songs to write.” The man turned back to his music stand. He looked up and down it for something. “My ink! Where did my ink go?” His cold gaze whipped back to Bendy. “You took it, didn’t you? Come here, you little-!” Sammy pounded toward the child. Henry acted fast and picked up his boy. The ink demon clutched onto his father’s shirt and buried his face into Henry’s chest. For he was too afraid to even look at the irate man. His little inky body heaved as he tried his best to hold in sobs of fear.

“Whoa! Whoa! Let’s not jump to conclusions here!” The cartoonist protected his creation. He turned so that Bendy was not within reach of Mr. Lawrence. “Instead of accusing him, why not ask? Bendy will tell you the truth.”

“Hmph!” Sammy snorted. “Well, if you’re so trusting of your boy, ask him yourself!”

Henry looked a bit put off by the music director’s attitude. But he asked the ink creature anyway.

“Bendy, did you take Sammy’s ink?” He asked in a gentle voice.

“No, father. I didn’t take anything.” The still trembling demon answered.

“See?” Mr. Lawrence roared. Poor Bendy cringed at the harsh voice and only clutched onto his man even tighter, horribly wrinkling the dress shirt. “That’s always his answer! That he didn’t do nothing!”

“Bendy may be a practical joker, but he isn’t a liar.” Henry explained, still being very calm despite the other man’s attempts to escalate the situation. The fact that the cartoonist could keep his cool so easily only made Sammy madder. “Look, if it really means that much to you, I’ll go get some ink from the art department for you.”

“No! I don’t want just any ink! The ink I use is special! I can’t get it just anywhere!”

“So where do you get it?” Henry asked. A look of horror came over Sammy. His mouth moved faster than his thoughts and now he had nearly boxed himself in a corner. It was a secret of his that he got his ink directly from the ink machine’s pipes. The machine was supposed to be off limits for everyone except Henry and Joey. Mr. Lawrence certainly couldn’t let word get out that he had been smuggling that ink for his own purposes. The music director was aware that there was something special about the ink used in the machine since it actually brought cartoons to life. Sammy had been experimenting with it on his own body and had become addicted to it. That’s why he was getting so desperate that his supply was gone and for the fact that he almost exposed his secret.

The man spun around as if to try and hide his look of fear.

“Just get out of here! I have work to do.” His voice wavered like he was truly worried about something. “That includes you, Boris!” He snapped without even looking at the wolf. Boris, however, was relieved that he didn’t have to endure any punishment from his boss at this moment. The ink wolf hurried after his family that was preparing to make their exit. Henry didn’t argue further and helped his children escape the eccentric music director. Bendy ventured a peak above his father’s shoulder to see what Sammy was doing now. The ink demon watched as that cold glare was shot back at him again. But that was not what shocked him. Thick streams of ink were coming out of the man’s eyes and nose. Hands tried desperately to wipe it all away so that the intruders would not see the result of his experimentations. The black substance smeared across his face, turning his cheeks black. A wicked smile stretched as far as humanly possible. It almost looked like Bendy’s smile when he was extremely happy. Only it looked creepy on the human that desired violence against the child. The ink seeped into his mouth and started to turn the teeth black too.

Bendy forced his face into the man’s chest yet again to be spared the horrible image of the mad music director. They all exited the room silently and made their way to the elevator. None of them said a word. Henry merely let his gaze sweep over each one of his ink children. Boris’s ears drooped as he uncomfortably rubbed his arms with gloved hands. The man could only imagine that the wolf feared what would happen when he ultimately had to go back for clarinet practice and recordings. Alice looked quite similar. Her halo hung low over her head and hair clung dryly over shoulders. She stared at the floor wondering what Susie was going to say when she returned from such a long break. And Bendy still clutched his father tightly, not looking up or moving at all.

The elevator jerked to a halt and the cage door opened. They slowly stepped out one by one starting with Boris. Henry exited last. The angel and wolf cast a sorrowful glance at the man. All of that progress to make them happy was gone. Like it never happened.

“It’s okay, guys.” Said Henry. “I promise I won’t let anyone unfairly punish you for being gone during this time.” The man crouched down as he talked and tried to get Bendy to let go. But the little ink demon wouldn’t budge. For he clung to his father like a leech. “In fact, you should never be punished for being yourselves. I’m going to see that you all get treated like real people….because you are. I think they sometimes forget that you three are actually living, breathing creatures like us. But that’s no excuse for anyone to be so harsh. From this point forth – Bendy, will you please let go? There’s no one here that’s going to hurt you. And Sammy won’t dare hurt you. Not while I’m around.”

The ink child finally let go and stepped back, giving him the same sorrowful look the other two were. They stood in silence for a moment. And then Henry sighed, realizing they all wanted a physical form of reassurance.

“Come here.” He motioned. Three pairs of inky arms wrapped around the man, holding onto the little hope they had left. Four bodies huddled against one another for moral support. The ink creatures knew that they could only trust the very people that were in that group hug. For they were not lucky enough to be able to escape the studio’s dark and inky grip like the humans that worked there. Not even for a second. Henry knew this and it only made him feel even more guilty that his children were treated this way.

“Bendy, Boris, Alice, you are my children. And I will do anything to protect you from harm. I will always be there for you….”

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Come Home With Me (part seven)

Second to last chapter! Thanks as always to my indomitable betas, @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian

Sorry for this

Please consider reblogging, leaving a comment on Ao3 or donating to my ko-fi

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Mollymauk took a moment to ask himself how long it had been since he’d last held his swords in anger. With the intent to use them to hurt.

However long ago it had been, part of a dark and murky time he deliberately held far away from who he was now, he’d put them aside and promised himself he’d never do it again. A promise half-remembered, half-forgotten was a promise nonetheless.

It had begun to leech back in over the years, as much as he hadn’t wanted it, as much as he’d tried to use drink, sex, various banned substances to keep it all at bay. Drops of ink spoiling the pool, reaching up with insidious little fingers to try and claim him back. But that wasn’t who he was now.

The grip still fit his hand perfectly. Molly flicked his wrist, catching his own reflection in the blade, the carnival glass turning his features blurry and indistinct, coloured incorrectly in the iridescent surface.

Not so indistinct that he couldn’t see the black eye. The split lip. The cracked tooth when he held his jaw open.

All of it made him angry, a sick, thick kind of anger in the very pit of his stomach. He liked his face a lot. It was half his job and more than half of his identity.

But that anger was a weak and feeble thing, a wind barely strong enough to lift a leaf when compared to what Mollymauk felt when he remembered the look on Caleb’s face. So scared, so vulnerable, a child who’d been hurt so many times that he’d stopped asking for a reason. Kissing Mollymauk softly and walking to his death without a shred of hesitation, like he’d expected it.

Like he wasn’t worth fighting for.

With a soft hiss, Molly holstered the sword at his right side, the twin on his left. He swept out of his charred caravan and marched out into the too hot dawn left behind by the rain.

For the first time in a long time, he drank down that darkness in a deep breath. The taste of blood prickled on his tongue and a deeper need for more woke in his chest. And he knew exactly whose blood he wanted.

The anger, a cavernous, yawning anger must have been plain on his face as worry swept over Yasha’s face when she saw him, though only briefly. Her fingers tightened on her own sword’s handle.

“What’s the plan?” she asked, voice quiet.

Mollymauk had always loved that about Yasha. No hesitation, no questions. But she always stuck to the plan.

He set his jaw, feeling a pang of pain from his broken tooth.

“We bring him home,” he replied.

When you knew you had such little time left, Caleb assumed, the small things would matter less.

He was wrong on that count.

On the long, long ride back to Rexxantrum, all he could thing about was how much the chains chafed on his wrists and how stuffy it was in the back of an enchanted carriage with the curtains drawn.

Every time the wheels hit a bump in the road, a rock or a pothole or something he couldn’t see, he’d hear the chains rattle and bite into his skinny wrists even more. They were heavy, he knew that much, he could have done without the regular reminders. He also knew they were inscribed with magic cancelling runes, serious heavy duty ones that Caleb hadn’t even seen outside of history books about far darker times.

That’s who he was then. A fiercely dangerous rogue wizard, using his powers for evil.

There was some irony in that.

“Mollymauk, listen, you can’t just go running into something like this.”

The baron of Whitestone had clearly been pulled out of bed by Nott’s message spell or, if not that, certainly the large flash of purple energy from Gilmore’s transportation spell erupting right in the middle of their parlour.

Shaun had been faster to rouse at the message.

Molly hoped it was because the newlyweds were awake and enjoying each other. He hoped their love still tasted sweet. He hoped it always would.

He hoped he wasn’t dragging them into something they wouldn’t come back from.

Percy caught hold of his wrist, turning him back towards him when he tried to walk away, “Mollymauk…”

“Perce,” Molly shook his head, “You’re kind to offer but I can’t wait for things to be made official. You getting involved now is a hair’s breadth away from an all-out declaration of war. It would be messy and lengthy and we just can’t afford it right now. I have to get to Rexxantrum, get in, get out fast.”

The frazzled looking human pulled his robe tighter around himself, “This man seized a whole troupe of innocent people performing under my name and took off with one of them. I can have him arrested and tried inside a day.”

“I may not even have that long,” Molly says softly, lowering his voice so his tiny militia massing in the parlour couldn’t hear him. A militia that seemed nowhere near powerful enough to take on an archmage of the capital city… “In a day, Caleb could be dead.”

“How do you know he…”

He left the rest of the sentence unsaid, the both of them wishing feverishly he’d never started it. But those blue eyes didn’t yield, Percival ever the pragmatist.

“I don’t,” Molly admitted, eyes flickering downwards, “But if I start thinking like that then…then I don’t know how I’m going to come back. So I can’t.”

After a lengthy sigh, Percy let go of his arm, resigning himself though he clearly wasn’t happy about it, “Get Caleb out. Then come back here, in one piece, and we do things properly. We make sure the bastard never sees the light of day again.”

“Yes sir,” a thin, brittle smile flickered over Mollymauk’s face, then replaced by one more gentle and real, “Make sure Vex doesn’t follow us. She’s good in a fight but I’m not taking a pregnant baroness into a midnight raid.”

Percy managed a short, tired laugh, “I’ll keep her here. I’ll explain its no slight on her fighting abilities.”

Molly gently touched his arm before moving quickly into the parlour. He turned to an anxious, tense looking Shaun Gilmore, sat with his arm around Vax’ildan, and inclined his head respectfully.

“Rexxantrum please.”

Caleb wondered idly if it would be a public execution. Was that the point of the chains? Flavour for the narrative of the dangerous, murderous wizard high on bloodlust and his own magic? A reminder to all of Rexxantrum. This is why magic is kept behind walls of privilege, status and money. Look who keeps you safe.

But the curtains stayed closed as they rolled through the city gates, Caleb only aware of it because he could hear the guard calling them through, hollering at others waiting to enter.

He frowned, even that small action causing pain to crackle through him, with his blackened eyes and swollen lips. How could they be in Rexxantrum already?

Though he supposed he was still thinking in circus time. They took a far more circuitous route, winding their way through all the tiny villages, zig zagging this way and that to visit other towns, circling the mountains, wandering around the lakes.

That and he’d long lost his grip on time, constantly in the darkness, the rocking motion of the carriage never ceasing even a little.

The smell of the smoke was unmistakable though. Smoke and bodies and the reek of water pooling in the street. It was Rexxantrum without a doubt.

Caleb closed his eyes and imagined Molly somewhere warm, with the sun on his shoulders, surrounded by the smell of clean grass.

The city was in darkness though lights still shone in windows like sequins embedded in black cloth.

Part of Molly admired how pretty it was from where he stood up on one of the hills that surrounded the city. He wondered what was behind all those windows. Maybe a pair of lovers who’d both been at work all day, the twinge of desperately missing each other carried in their chests for the long hours apart, finally able to dissipate as they fell into each other’s arms. Each kiss feeling so precious because of the distance that had made them wait, even though they’d both known it was only temporary.

Molly closed his eyes and took a deep breath, tears threatening him, closing his throat.

He let the dark, inky part of him take over a little more. There were no tears in that, just the cold determination and the exact knowledge of what to do.

“We go in through the sewers,” he said, swords clanking when he moved down from the boughs of the tree he perched in like a peacock who’d lost his way, “Quiet, quick, no crownsguard. The house is at the centre of the city.”

His little team, Vax, Yasha, Fjord, Jester, Nott, Beau all nodded and made noises of agreement. Not everyone, a smaller group could move faster and more subtly through dark streets. Shaun would stay up on the hills, the piece of wire ready in his pocket to receive the message, telling him to transport them out or reinforcements in.

It would be a swift journey to their target. Molly knew it’s position well. It was where he met the love of his life, how could it not stand out like a glowing golden pin stuck in the world? It was the first time Caleb’s eyes had met his own, the first time he’d smiled at him and received the first glimpse of the man who would become the most important person in the world to him.

And it was where he was going to get him back.

Caleb didn’t want to cry out but he couldn’t help it. The blow landed so hard and so fierce, it wrung a scream from him before he’d even had the chance to make the choice. The taste of fresh blood burst across his tongue again as his jaw connected with the floor.

“Pick yourself up,” Ikithon snarled, apparently in the cold, echoing room Caleb had just been thrown into.

He did, the only other choice being to lay there on the stone floor. Or rather, he tried, staggering when his aching knees didn’t want to move, pitching forward when his bound hands jerked instinctively to catch himself but failed. He could taste his own breath inside the cloth hood, hot and sour.

But then a hand seized his shoulder and the hood was ripped away, revealing the cavernous basement where they’d held so many training fights. There was only gentle firelight flickering in the sconces on the walls but still it was too much for Caleb’s eyes after who knew how long in the darkness. He winced and ducked his head, tears beading behind his eyelids.

“Don’t you dare cry in front of me,” Ikithon snapped, “Pathetic wretch, I raised you better than that.”

“You didn’t raise me at all,” Caleb forced the words through his bitten tongue and swollen lips, “You can’t say you raised a flower after you trampled all over it and kept it in the dark.”

“Poetic,” Ikithon’s cheeks flushed red, clearly not used to being spoken back to, “Did you learn that among those degenerates and devil bloods who called themselves players?”

Caleb stared up at him, hair strewn across his face, sticking to the dried blood and sweat, “I learnt plenty from them. What love is. What life is. How to ignore every damn thing you ever told me. And whatever you do to me now, Ikithon, you can’t undo that.”

And he smiled.

Ikithon pulled his lips back from his teeth and the wall lamps dimmed to nearly nothing, “I was going to give you a quick death, Bren, for the sake of the years you lived under my roof. But you’ve undone that. You will be begging me to let you die by the time I’m done with you.”

The smile didn’t fade, bloody and bright, “My name is Caleb.”

Whatever Ikithon was planning, it apparently didn’t start yet. He just took his chains and threaded them through a ring on the wall, pulling them taught to yank Caleb’s arms up above his head. And then he left him there.

Only when the shadows closed around him did Caleb feel safe enough to cry.

It was hard, to be held in the very centre of the place he’d been hurt so many times, where mocking spells and cruel words had knocked him to his feet, so often that he had no idea how it hadn’t shattered him completely. It made it hard to stay brave.

He cried for that skinny young boy, all skin and bones, even the memory of a kind family taken from him. He cried for himself as he was now, punished for even trying to seek love in his life again.

He cried for how unfair it all was.

Time slipped away from him again before too long. He didn’t sleep, at least he thought he didn’t, he just sat there and thought about how much he wanted to sleep in a vague, misty way that never did slip completely into fully dreaming. Not with the pain gnawing at him all the time, in a dull toothless way, not just his wound but hunger and thirst too which soon crept up and found him.

Eventually, thinking that he’d lose his mind if he couldn’t grasp the seconds, minutes, hours again, he passed the time by singing. Though tears began rolling down his face and stinging the opened skin there, he sang all the songs he could remember Molly singing. Caleb’s own voice couldn’t compare to his tiefling’s, not by a long shot, he still sang the words, the melodies making him feel closer to everything he’d lost.

He hoped Ikithon could hear him.

There were so many songs, Caleb realised, as he ran through them all. Bawdy tavern songs Molly had only sang after he’d ingested a fair amount of alcohol. Long ballads that brought ancient stories back to life, so many verses that Caleb had no idea how Molly remembered them all and was stunned to find he could remember himself. Sweet, simple folk songs that could be played on nothing more than an old tin tub, designed to stick in children’s heads.

And then there were the songs Molly had only sung for him. Songs where he’d lain back against the pillows, only his lute keeping any kind of modesty, looking half a god in the low light. And Caleb had felt like the whole world was in those songs.

Those songs brought the tears on thicker. His voice cracked and splintered like old wood, now he faded in and out between verses. But he couldn’t stop.

Caleb saved one song for last. The one he knew best and held dearest.

The one Molly had sang to close the very first show he’d ever seen. The song that had made Caleb brave enough to seek something more than misery in his life.

“I was alone so long, I didn’t even know that I was lonely…” he sang, his voice rough and fading, “Out in the cold so long, I didn’t even know that I was cold…”

His fingers twitched listlessly at the empty air, trying to remember how Molly’s fingers moved over the silver strings. The words echoed through the empty space that seemed darker every moment. Or was that his own eyes…he didn’t know any more.

“Say that you’ll hold me forever. Say that the wind won’t change on us. Say that we’ll stay with each other and it will always be like this…”

Caleb’s voice finally crackled and disappeared completely. Deprived of water, deprived of fresh air there was nothing else he could do.

But in his mind, the song continued. And of course it was Molly’s voice that took over.

“I’m gonna hold you forever. The wind will never change on us.”

Caleb frowned. Molly’s voice echoed in his mind, not the way it had in the tent. And it was thick with tears too. Almost like he could see what a sad, broken thing his love had become.

It was soft too, not booming the way it had at the end of the show. It wasn’t for a whole audience, just for the ears of one.

It was almost as if it wasn’t a memory.

“Long as we stay with each other, then it will always be like this.”

Fingers brushed his hair back from his face. A familiar scent reached his nose, one that had no place in somewhere dark and terrible as this.

“You can’t be here,” Caleb rasped, sheer shock making his voice come back, “I told you to let me go.”

“And I didn’t listen,” Molly replied, smiling through his tears, “Are you surprised?”

“I…I didn’t dare hope,” Caleb managed a weak smile in return.

Molly shook his head, pressing a kiss to Caleb’s forehead, unable to say how he’d managed to keep himself from doing it for so long. He’d kiss other places too but they looked too sore and tender, wounds that made the inky anger rise but his relief and love at seeing Caleb alive pushed it back.

“We’re taking you home, Caleb. We’ve come to save you.”

Caleb’s smile faded, “No…Molly, Liebling, you can’t. He’ll never stop hunting me, he’ll never give up. And next time nothing I can do will keep him from killing you all.”

“You can beat him, Caleb, you said it yourself,” Molly looked dismayed, “We’ll get you healed and safe again and next time, you’ll beat him.”

“No…Molly, no…” Caleb shook his head, grasping for a way to make him see, difficult when most of him was crying out to follow him and believe what he was saying.

His heart sank as he realised how many of his family were here. Yasha, looming and powerful, stood at the door. Nott, his dear Nott, crouched over her little piece of wire. Fjord with a thieves lamp, sword glinting in the low light. Vax, half a shadow himself, daggers ready to fly. Jester hefting the axe that made Caleb’s arms ache to even look at, grinning at him, clearly itching to rush forward and hug him. Even Beau, staff rapping restlessly on the ground, eager to hit something though she gave him a crooked smile and a wink.

They’d all come for him.

“Caleb, I know you’re scared, it’s okay,” Molly cupped his face, gently so he didn’t hurt him, “But I will not leave you here with that man. You’ve trusted me before, do it just one more time for me? We will get you home.”

Caleb looked into those red eyes, the lighthouses of his life for the past year. Stranger things had happened surely…if he was willing to fight…

“You troupers really are as stupid as I hoped you’d be.”

Ikithon’s voice was the sound of tipping too far over and edge and falling, gasping for a handhold that wasn’t there.

A glow surrounded the cavern, bars of magic over every surface. Yasha jerked back with a hiss of pain, her hand burning on those that formed under her palm.

Caleb sat up, eyes wide, “No…”

Molly’s swords were free with a sound like an inhalation. His face turned cold, like nothing Caleb recognised. There was no performance in his voice when he spoke, it was truth.

“Come out and die, Trent Ikithon. It’s past time you paid for your sins.”

A shift in the magic of the room and Ikithon stood behind Caleb, wordless and flushed with fury. He reached down, clearly aiming to slit his throat but a sword came flashing out and he was forced to back off. Then the first spell shot out and, after a breath, hell opened up.

The flashes of light, the shriek of metal, the snarl of people determined to kill each other. And Caleb, frightened, panicked, sleep deprived, was in the middle of it all.

So many against just one should have been simple matter of mathematics. But not if the one was an archmage.

It was so frantic, Caleb could only get snapshots of it, fragments coming at him too fast to grasp for more than an instant. Beau staggering back, catching herself on her staff, red soaking into her blue shirt. The firelight catching on the line of Fjord’s hooked sword as he swung it high above his head, shadow creatures surrounding him in an unbroken circle. Vax’s cloak sweeping behind him, looking like wings.

Caleb closed his eyes, wanting to curl up and press his hands to his ears, wanting to stop it all. His friends were dying all around him. And there was nothing he could do, his panic forming tighter chains than Ikithon ever could have hoped to put on him. He couldn’t breathe.

A sound reached him over the clangour. Molly, crying out in pain.

Caleb’s eyes flew open to see Ikithon himself, arm outstretched, eyes like chips of dirty ice. The shadow beasts kept everyone else at bay, no matter how hard they tried. And his fingers closed around Molly’s throat.

One of his swords lay shattered on the ground, the glass broken into long, dangerous shards and each one held the picture in front of Caleb over and over again, a thousand times he had to watch his love dying, a thousand times he couldn’t save him.  

The darkness was thickening, oozing like spilled ink.

Not again. Not again.

Caleb stood, like the chains had never even been there. The shadows were gone, a bright and brilliant light filling the cavern instead. It took Caleb a few moments before he realised the light was coming from him.

It wasn’t like before. Like the time he and Ikithon fought, like the time in the woods with Mollymauk where he lost control. Both of those times he had forgotten the word as soon as he’d said it, like it hadn’t really come from him at all.

But now he knew it. It burned there on his lips. The name of fire.

It crackled up his skin, wreathed his hair, but he didn’t burn. How could he? The fire wasn’t on him, it washim.

Molly fell to the floor, Ikithon’s grasp slackened in a mix of horror, terror and awe. Everyone else was stunned, it was their turn to be unable to move, weapons still held ready even after the shadows were gone. Because who the hell knew what was going to happen next.

Caleb took step after step, like he was relearning how to walk. The pain hadn’t faded, in fact it was fuelling him like electricity, the way a fire consumes wood and paper.

Eventually, it was only him and Ikithon. Caleb realised that he towered over the man now as he shrank back in fear. He’d always been taller than him of course, it had just been a matter of perspective.

Was this what Ikithon had seen every time he knocked Caleb back with harsh words, every time he’d threatened him and forced him down to nearly nothing? Had this made him feel powerful?

Caleb just felt sad.

He tried to think of something to say. A hero would always have a witty quip, one line to cut as sharp as the final blow. But, as he’d already realised, to his dismay and his relief, Caleb wasn’t a hero.

“I have nothing to say to you. You aren’t worth the effort.”

His voice was like the crackling of a fire. He stretched out one hand. And everything in him flowed into Ikithon and burnt him to ash in less time than it would take to strum a lute.

The flash of light was enough to hurt. Orange then red then a harsh white. Mollymauk cringed and covered his eyes with his hand as his heart hammered in his chest, one word over and over. Caleb, Caleb, Caleb…

The whole air smelled of burning, smoke hung in it like wisps of fine gossamer. Black streaked up the grey stone walls, an ashy residue all emanating from one point. Caleb lay in the centre of that point, curled up small like a puppet with his strings cut.

“No!” Molly sobbed, staggering to his feet, clearing the distance between them with something more like an extended fall than steps.

His throat still burned, bruises in the shape of fingers rising there already. It was hard to suck in air but Molly didn’t care about that right now.

Caleb felt so cold when his hands finally found him, turned him over and held him in his arms. It was like all like heat had gone out of him, lost to make that final rush of flame and light. His skin was covered in the sooty substance, his hair steamed gently like the ends of his copper locks had singed but his skin was icy.

And his eyes were blank.

“Caleb!” Molly gasped, voice painful, “Caleb, come on, come back to me…”

Nott’s voice was somewhere in the background through the smoke, calling Caduceus. Jester was already moving forward, her hands glowing with energy through the grey air.

“Caleb, please…” Molly murmured, moving back only as much as he had to so he could let Jester through. Any further from Caleb and he would have broken. “Please, it can’t end like this…”

There was no ink left in him, it had fled when his sword shattered.

All there was left was the song.

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Jess!

You have been accepted for the role of LILY EVANS! We really enjoyed reading your application. We especially loved the moments in your app where you showed that Lily is not perfect. You really gave us a clear view on both her strengths and her flaws. Her failed career as a healer was just an example of that! We are so excited to have you as part of this roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Jess

AGE: 23

TIMEZONE: GMT+10

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I tend to be fairly active, my goal is usually not to let 3 days pass without doing my replies and I generally meet this (unless I have left a uni assignment to the last minute!)

ANYTHING ELSE: N/A for triggers

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Lily Geraldine Evans

AGE: 21

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cisfemale, she/her. Pansexual/Conceives of herself as heterosexual

BLOOD STATUS: Muggle-born

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor

ANY CHANGES: No thanks!

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Lily Evans was made Head Girl in her final year at Hogwarts for more reasons than simply being a figurehead for Albus Dumbledore’s pro Muggle-born ideologies – although certainly, that helped. Known by many of her teachers and peers for being quick-witted and intelligent, the fact that she came to magic later than most of her peers did not hold her back for long. Lily’s intelligence soon helped her excel at magic, seemingly gifted at charming and conjuring all manner of magical items. She has a particular strength for defensive magic and healing, while her fondness for Potions rests in her stubborn and comforting belief that it is the most similar to the Muggle ways she employed in her youth, that the simple Muggle methods of hands and brain are just as powerful. Offensive magic is more of a struggle for Lily, she is by no means a natural fighter, although it is something she determinedly works on.

Also known for her kindness, Lily has an open heart and is truly an extrovert. She delights in the company of people and is always teasing someone or other, a fond smile and a ringing laugh never far from her countenance. In fact, lightly teasing others is her foremost means of showing affection, though this is something that never (or at least, rarely) strays into cruelty.

Kindness, however, is by no means softness. It is true that Lily believes in forgiveness, but she also has high standards and expects them to be met. Her love is not unconditional, and nor is her forgiveness. Her principles and ideals are close to her heart and for others to stray for them or betray them is to be met with Lily’s anger. She is forgiving, but not endlessly so, and does not forgive unless the merit is there, unless she decides the person deserves it. She is also used to being in the position of judgement, not to being the judged, which tends to bring out her self-righteous side, being so clear on what she believes to be right and wrong. When Lily is in the wrong, she struggles to admit it, having a strong sense of pride. She can become prickly and defensive, not so much playing the role of peacemaker as she is inclined to retreat, wounded. It’s a part of herself she’d often only seen in conflict with Petunia - maybe even a part of herself that mirrored Petunia. Resentment. And a sense of selfish pride, wounded self-righteousness so deep, it was easier to push the loved one away than apologise, than try to repair damage done. It’s not a quality Lily likes about herself, but it’s also one intrinsic, perhaps learnt by both at their parents’ knee.

Rightfully a Gryffindor, Lily is fierce and true. Her ideals always lead her to action, she is not one to sit back, even if she is not necessarily suited for a fight by nature. That does not stop her. Bravery runs quick and deep within her, and in fact, the more opposition she receives, the more she is inclined to push back. Her bravery then, extends to a defiant streak – even to provocation. Lily tends to take pleasure in talking back to those she scorns, in daring them to insult her, in attempting to prove herself above their scorn. There is indeed something desperate inside of her, a thirst to prove herself better than all that has been said about her kind.

Behind this solid sense of pride, however, lies a more sensitive side. Disapproval, disappointment - Lily hates letting people down, associating conflict with rejection. For that she can probably thank Petunia. When she found magic, she lost a best friend, her sister. When she found magic did not want her, she lost a best friend yet again, Severus. It is one thing to deal with the rejection of a whole world (or at least, so the Death Eaters and their allies often seem, a crushing weight) – that, Lily can shrug off, shoulders high, defiant until the end. But the two people she thought cared for her most, loved her most … that can only hurt, even still, years later. Lily remains insecure that she is not truly loved, that ultimately, she will lose people, no matter how much they seem to care for her now.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY: 

Lily grew up in the industrial town of Cokeworth, in the Midlands of England. The daughter of Adrian and Geraldine Evans, she has an older sister, Petunia Evans (now Dursley). For many years, her family was a close one, her parents strived hard to make it that way. The Evans parents used flower names for both of their two daughters. This was not particularly due to a family tradition or any reason other than that Geraldine Evans liked the idea of connecting her two children to each other. She was always glad they were born so close in age because she never had any siblings and wished for a sister for a best friend. The girls’ closeness growing up delighted her, at least until it ended with a letter in green ink, carried by a bird.

Four lends itself neatly to division, and it was true enough for the Evans family, Lily her father’s daughter and Petunia all their mother’s. This is true in appearance as much as personality: Lily’s looks are from the Evans side of the family, she shares her red hair with her father and both are more heavily built, while Petunia looks more like their mother - pale hair and bony features.

But at first, there was no problem, not for any of them. Lily was the fearless one, climbing trees and playing in the mud – but Petunia did it all with her, too. That was the thing – the part Lily cannot forget. Petunia always followed her, despite not caring for dirt and mud mess, and Lily worshipped her for it.

Meanwhile, Geraldine was cloying, clingy, she tried to hold on hard to her girls, even Lily, who would disappear to a world she could not know. Adrian was quieter, stiller – Lily could always come to him. It’s easier now, when she has so much to hide from her family, barely seeing them, desperate to keep them from danger or any association with her. She avoids going home, missing her family, but struggling under the weight of the lies, as she tries to keep any knowledge of the war from them. Adrian asks much less of Lily. The downside to that, of course, is that he lets her slip away. Though generally seen as having taken after her father, Lily has something of her mother’s nature, too, something shared with Petunia. She can never let things go, her heart is one that holds on. To the good and the bad.  

OCCUPATION:

Lily always wanted to become a Potioneer, brewing potions was her favourite subject and the part of magic she liked most, even if she was never as talented as Severus. She liked the fact that potions took brains more than it took magic, that it used hands, not a wand. But, with a war going on around her, it seemed decidedly less than useful. She became a Healer Trainee instead, thinking she would be in the best position to help others and to learn important spells she might use to save those in the Order at a time of crisis. The problem was that Lily was never truly dedicated to this role. Yes, many victims of the Death Eaters came into the hospital, but it was rarely the case that Trainee Healers were entrusted with cases of Dark magic. Lily was mostly fixing the accidental magic mishaps underage wixen got themselves into - dull and draining work. Even more than that, her higher loyalty was always to the Order, the war remaining her priority. Lily had less and less time to study the healing magic she needed for her job, focusing far more of her energy on missions for the Order, to the extent she even missed shifts at times. It only got worse as she began working with the Task Force - finding something she was truly passionate about meant she kept even less time for her Healing studies. She wasn’t exactly fired, but it became clear that she was not performing to the required level and had to leave the program. Even though she was hardly happy at the hospital, this fact burns. Lily Evans, who was supposed to have such a bright future. The failure is a blemish on her record, yet another thing that has gone wrong in her life since leaving Hogwarts, yet another way she seems to be incapable of living up to the image everyone has of her.

As it is, she works solely for the Order now and lives off James’ money. This fact too is something that weighs Lily down, that she can never stop thinking about. She never wanted to be dependent on him, on anyone. Sure, she didn’t make much as a Trainee Healer, couldn’t contribute her fair share to their home, but at least she had something of her own. It’s something at the back of her mind whenever she is with James.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Lily has a desire to impress, she always had. Somehow surrounding herself with rebels, all of them heedless and reckless in her eyes, though very much loved for it - she herself respected authority. That is, if the authority deserved to be respected. Sometimes it crosses her mind, the fact that she, of all people, is technically a vigilante, and she can only laugh. A bitter, somewhat frightened laugh, but with hints of amusement all the same. There are still people she can look to for the approval she craves in the Order – she respects Moody, Shacklebolt, Dumbledore. And she believes in them, in the path they’re setting out for all of them, but … it gets harder and harder every day.

Perhaps that’s why the Task Force means so much to her. It’s palpable success, it’s a way to actually help people, to see the results before them. Especially the Muggle-borns – the people who, like herself, are caught up in something that threatens to overwhelm them, who deserve to have someone stand up for them and affirm their (her) right to be in this world. Fighting (and often losing) endless battles with the Death Eaters, missions that seem to go nowhere, do nothing, even if there is supposedly some greater scheme – Lily feels herself breaking the longer it goes on, the less light there seems to be at the end of this long drawn out struggle. She knew it wasn’t going to be over in a year – but knowing that, and living it, are two very different things.

This wasn’t supposed to be her life. Failed job. Failed war. And now more than ever, failed relationships. This was never supposed to be Lily, who everyone thinks of as a bright spark, as hope and kindness personified. It’s hard to let go of, that image, the perfect Lily Evans, something she clung to when she was reminded of her sister’s hate, of half the wizarding world’s hate. But she isn’t a bright spark, or at least, she doesn’t feel that way. Not anymore.  

SURVIVAL:

To be honest, Lily often feels her survival is a matter of her inconsequentiality. At Hogwarts, things seemed different. She was a bold symbol, the Muggle-born Head Girl, bright and clever and beloved. Practically a spit in the face to anyone who thought Muggle-borns were inferior – and there were plenty of students who showed her their displeasure. Lily faced them all proudly, though James’ support was something she depended upon, taking strength from the knowledge that he had her back, no matter who else despised her. She felt like she was making a difference. Now, even as an Order member – what’s she really doing for the war? That importance she used to have, it’s faded away now. She’s not especially successful, she’s not especially threatening or powerful … that doesn’t mean Lily isn’t careful, of course. Her home with James is well-protected and Lily takes Alastor Moody’s warnings very seriously. Constant vigilance indeed. But at the end of the day, there are times Lily thinks … she simply doesn’t matter. Not outside of being James Potter’s mudblood girlfriend, at any rate.

RELATIONSHIPS: 

Lily loves James, but she knows things are strained between them. Lily’s relationships are deeply characterised by respect – she is someone who cannot be happy with someone, even if she loves them, unless she can respect them. That hasn’t changed with James, she still admires him almost more than anyone else, for his strength and dedication, his idealistic nature. Most days, Lily thinks it’s her who is the problem. Nothing she does lately seems to be working out and this is no different. She knows he’s starting to catch on to her unhappiness and she wants to reach out, to tell him she hasn’t stopped caring for him, but something stops her. Maybe it’s just that sense of hopelessness, of burning out, the fear that she isn’t the person she once was anymore. How could he understand that – he’s never been anything but himself, never had to be afraid to be himself, never failed, and right now, he’s in the thick of it, the inner circle – of course he is. Everything has always come easy to James, born to success and brilliant in his own right.  It seems as if their paths after school are inverse, he with all the accomplishments (so high up in the Order, so trusted) and she with none. Even if he did fail, he wouldn’t be like her. The Muggle-born out of place, the Muggle-born who has failed to make her place in the Wizarding world (all those snide voices at the back of her mind – of course she was going to fail. Don’t they always? They don’t belong). She can’t talk to him about any of this. It’s easier to dedicate herself to the Task Force instead – but James doesn’t seem to understand that either.

Friendships have become more difficult than ever. It’s still easy to put her life into anyone in the Order’s hands. She trusts them with that. But Lily feels more isolated than ever. Hardly anyone seems to remember what they’re fighting for – to save people. To save lives. It’s all become about who is right and who is wrong (Lily forgetting that she too thinks of herself as right and the others as wrong). The people she would trust with her life feel less like friends the further they go into this war together. And yet Lily cannot stop reaching out, even to the friends who seem to greet her with distaste these days, disliking her priorities. Lily will always believe that friendship is important, that tenderness is important. It can’t be true that they are only soldiers these days, and nothing else.

With Severus coming to the Order, Lily will remain deeply conflicted. For so many years, a sign like this, that he was definitively, absolutely choosing her, siding with her, would have meant everything. But as so often with getting the thing you want most, by the time you get it, you can barely recognise it. Lily may well be more suspicious than anyone else, if only because she has been through this before. The desperation to trust him meeting with her deep suspicion that this is just another lie, that she never really knew him at all.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: 

Lily/James, Lily/Chemistry (I very much love writing Lily/James but that doesn’t mean I’m not open to exploring other things or exploring Lily/James in an untypical form. Chemistry is important, and one thing I find very interesting in this rp is the conflict and break down of relationships. On the other side, platonic relationships are very important to me, especially since we know so little of the friendships Lily had, I find them fascinating to develop and deconstruct.)

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

I would say Lily’s strongest bias is essentially tunnel vision. She has always tended to believe she knows right and wrong – and that her understanding of right and wrong is what is right and wrong. When it comes to things like the war, she utterly condemns those who choose to fight for the other side – and even, to an extent, those who remain neutral. While she tries to be accepting of it, that not everyone can fight, that people are torn by conflicting loyalties, that it may not be life or death for everyone, she can’t truly understand or respect how anyone could make that choice. Furthermore, she believes what she prioritises is most important. The more she turns to the Task Force, the less she will be able to understand how the others in the Order can so easily dismiss it.

Another bias is against dark magic, which she believes is wrong without exception and looks down on those who use it. This also extends to dark creatures – notably excluding werewolves, due to her long friendship with Remus Lupin (she also tends to be quite biased in favour of those she loves), but creatures such as Dementors, hags, vampires, giants, she tends to regard with fear and disgust. Her boggart would be a Lethifold - another Dark creature, highly aggressive and tending to attack people at night, as they sleep. It symbolises her fear of being defenceless and unable to act to protect those she loves, as well as her deep fear of Dark magic.

For privileges, obviously she lacks privilege in the wizarding world as a Muggle-born and is notably a target of the current war. I would say that lack of privilege is certainly something that spurs her on to protect others. She certainly resents the way she is treated by others and devalued simply for her birth. It’s something that colours her relationship with James – it’s not his fault, but she knows others look down on them being together. They might both well be better off if they weren’t together, in fact, being together makes them a target. As a witch of two worlds, Lily would also be aware of the fact that her privilege is very different in the Muggle world, being white. It’s interesting that in her relationship with James, the privilege would be reversed in the Muggle world. And in fact, Vernon and Petunia’s treatment of James suggests this very personally for Lily, and is something that angers her, yet at the same time, she does want to regain a good relationship with her sister.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? 

There are a lot of aspects I find appealing – I like the way this rp uses multiple player threads so paras involve more than just two characters. It’s something I haven’t seen elsewhere and I find compelling for exploring the whole tapestry of the Order and how the organisation interacts with each other. The focus on the Order also appeals to me – I’m typically far more interested in ‘the good guys’ and especially in exploring the flaws and weaknesses of ‘the good guys’. Lily for one is presented as fairly saintlike in canon and it’s so interesting to deconstruct that image and find out about the real person she was, flaws, warts and all.

PLOT DROP IDEAS (OPTIONAL): N/A for the moment

ANYTHING ELSE? Nothing, thanks for considering me!

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New Post has been published on http://simplemlmsponsoring.com/attraction-marketing-formula/copywriting/revisiting-2018-do-what-your-heart-feels-is-right/

Revisiting 2018 – Do What Your Heart Feels is Right

Last day of the year is always special. It’s the last time I sat down to write in 2018. It is also an excellent time to reflect upon things that happened this year and make plans for the year to come.

It’s been a while since I composed a yearly review, but here I am, documenting some of the moments of 2018 that I would like to remember forever. In the first week of December 17, We redesigned ShoutMeLoud and got a new logo and did some great work there. Sharat inked himself with ShoutMeLoud logo which is remarkable:

I started 2018 just after one of the most amazing trips to Antarctica, and for the first time, Delhi winter didn’t feel as freezing as it usually does. Now, unlike other years, 2018 was different.

It was a lot of introspection and self-learning for me. I had to fight a lot of my inner demons which I knew existed for years but never dared to face them.

It was more like trash piling up in one corner of the room that I knew was there, but I never took action.

The first half of the year unearthed many of them, and I realized that I  had to accept them before I could fight them.

When I look back, I feel I could have done better in the first half of the year. The only thing I could do was to surrender myself to the whole experience and acknowledge my achievements, realize my mistakes and use the learnings to make better decisions in the future.

2018 was the year when I made the most mistakes, which also makes it the year of great learnings.

I will try to put down my experience below so that you can learn from my mistakes and have a better year ahead.

Also, when I grow old, it would be nice to look back at this phase and smile.

Ok then, here we go:

January and February 2018

Last few months of 2017 were super exciting. I achieved things I never thought I would on personal as well as the financial front.

I kept thinking of early retirement as it felt like I had achieved most of my goals.

I stopped growing for a bit and my perspective changed from being a student of life to someone who thought he knew it all.

I had, unknowingly, started surrounding myself with people who were nice to me, rather than those who were honest in my face. Instead of taking actions, my impulse to seek recognition started increasing.

For me, it was a tough one to digest as I never thought I could be such a person. But it was happening!

The first two months of the year were the toughest and also the slowest for me.

Day-dreaming and running away from accountability, I was making my future difficult.

Sometimes it gets hard to see things when you are in the middle of it all. Don’t you agree?

I was almost in the midst of a mid-life crisis, figuring out what to do next.

It was not productive but the questions I was going through paved the way for time to come.

Me and Sharat did a road trip to Chandigarh to meet Chatty who is a smart young chap and was working on a few projects with us.

March 2018

March started with great pace, and the first significant thing that I did was a trip to Hong Kong with my team.

It was a conference that we attended it as an official media partner.

We also tested a lot of new stuff like:

Podcasts Twitter chat

Podcasts and videos are going to one of the prime targets for 2019.

I also met Gary Illyes, Abhishek, Honey Singh and Fernando at different venues and events in the month of March:

April and May 2018

These two months were pretty busy with managing my finances and restructuring the company.

By the end of April, I moved away from managing the finances of my company which turned out to be a great decision. I also moved my whole blogging business to the newly formed company rather than managing under my name, something that paved the way for better structuring in the times to come.

This is the time when I shared my intention with my team of stepping down from the role of CEO of ShoutDreams and bringing someone knowledgeable to run the company so that I could focus on things that I like.

I could feel the pressure of increasing demand for growing the company and keeping up with writing content.

Honestly, running day-to-day operations was becoming a challenge. I had never felt so much pressure. Even though I knew the right thing to do, I was not sure what to do.

I could feel it in my heart that I was not enjoying what I was doing and that my business and life required some major changes.

The question I kept asking myself repeatedly were:

Do I really need to do this?  Do I really need to build the company? What’s next for ShoutMeLoud?

On the one hand, I knew it was an important thing to do considering the way we do business online was shifting. On the other hand, I felt I was getting too business-oriented and was losing my freedom.

I could feel the requirement of having more key players on my team. Maybe a content guy, a video editor, a graphics guy, maybe an app developer. However, I was not enjoying the part where I had to spend time hiring and letting go of people.

The pressure of running the company was taking a toll on my overall performance. Moreover, I was not sure what I wanted from my life anymore. I had not yet confronted my inner demons and was trying to ignore them as much as I could.

To add to my troubles, Shallu (my wife) met with an accident and hurt her back in April 2018. She was bed-ridden for 3 whole months. When this happened, for the first time in many, many, years, I was really scared. Seeing someone you love in pain is heart-wrenching. I’m sure you can resonate with that.

I was struggling with everything. It was not the best place to be, but I can’t deny the importance of that phase in my career.

I realized I should be spending more time working. Honestly, I was starting to enjoy work again, and I knew it was time to make some changes. I rented a space in co-working office called Regus and worked from there for a month.

It was a boring place to be, but I was still happy as I was breaking out of procrastination and getting work done.

I worked from this space for almost a month. I discontinued with it later because it was becoming too corporate – more like a 9-5 job!

One highlight of April was addressing the audience at MindmineSummit.

June 2018

June is usually an action-packed month for me. In June 2018, I traveled to Helsinki to attend the SummerJam by SEMRUSH. SummerJam is a private event by SEMRUSH where they invite some of the best minds from the SEO and marketing industry.

It was great connecting with like-minded people in Helsinki. Here are some pictures from the event.

I also met Victoria, former affiliate manager of SEMRUSH, who currently works with Supermetrics.

If you don’t remember her, here is the video we did together last year about affiliate marketing for businesses.

Another highilght was this “Blogging birthday cake” sent by my friend, which made my day:

July 2018 – Half cooked Europe trip

After the Summer Jam, I planned to travel to Europe for a month with my family. It was one of our dream trips. From Helsinki, we went to Amsterdam and Prague. The plan was to travel to more places.

However, on the 9th day when I was in Prague, one of my key team member shared his intention of saying goodbye. I already felt I wasn’t doing justice to my role and this news couldn’t have come at a worse time.

We abandoned the rest of the trip and returned to India. I realized how important it was for me to resolve the burning question of the future of the company – putting up the system in place, ensuring everyone gets proper growth and credit for their work. I wish I could have done this more pro-actively a few years back, but as I said, I was no one to complain about how my life was unfolding. More on this later.

August

Half of the year was gone, and I could feel the pressure of not doing anything significant.

It doesn’t matter how well one is doing financially or growing if the ❤ is not in sync with the mind. It’s struggle.

👆🏻was my state of mind, and the first thing I did was change my office space. I found a nice place near my home called Instaoffice where I rented a spot.

It was a dream office and I enjoyed being there from day one.

Instead of planning, I started getting things done.

But I had accumulated a lot of questions in the past few months, and the answers were nowhere to be found. The worst decision one can take is not taking any decision, and I was doing exactly that.

As it is, I was not feeling super pumped up about much I was doing.  Existential crisis along with mid-life crisis, it was a pretty awkward place to be in.

In the past 12 months, I lost two key players from my team, and I was failing to put up system and process. I was facing a new issue every day.

At the stage I was, it was not easy for me to open up to anyone and tell them what I was going through. I was feeling lonely, but I didn’t let anything affect my day-to-day activities. It felt like depression but I’m glad it wasn’t.

I was losing the whole perspective of my journey. I was unsure of what would happen next.

But life always has something to offer.

One gets help when he/she least expects, and this is what happened in August.

I opened up to a few close people and told them what I was going through.

“Are you enjoying what you are doing?”

A friend asked me this simple question, and straight away I knew the answer – No!

I was doing a lot of things that I wasn’t enjoying.

For example, working 9-6 thinking that working more was a solution.

Waiting for weekends to live life!

I was trying to live a perfect life which was not me. I was living someone else’s life.

I was not able to write regularly, because my heart was not in sync and nothing makes me better than journaling.

We discussed things, and after a lot of questions and introspection over the new few days, I realized I was doing the exact opposite of what my heart said.

Working 9-6 was not me, and there I was, forcing myself to work more thinking that was the solution.

Rather than looking at my problems with the lens of solving it, I was harsh on myself.

I was being cornered by my ego. I was not ready to accept my shortcomings.

Instead of keeping my blogging journey fun, being thankful for whatever I have, I was focused more on the things that I wasn’t able to accomplish.

Throughout, I knew I don’t enjoy doing some of those things and rather than asking “How” to solve it, I was looking at “Why” I couldn’t do it.

This is where I started following the mantra“Do what, heart says”.

I accepted the situation, and started to take it easy from there.

I started accepting that I’m good with some things and not so good at other things.

Believe it or not, this mere acceptance changed everything for me.

Working more was not a solution and sometimes taking a step back or slowing down is the best thing to do.

I needed a change. A significant shift in my mindset, and I needed to be at a new place.

What do I really want to do?

From here on, I started making every decision based on the question above.

That one simple thing (“Do what your heart says”) changed the course for the rest of my year and probably my life.

It drastically changed everything!

September – The African Safari and Brighton SEO

I had planned my trip to Kenya a long time ago and even though I had to move major mountains in my business, I didn’t cancel this 9-day trip.

Why?

Because I badly needed a change and deep down I always wanted to experience the Great African Safari.

On the 1st of September, I flew to Nairobi, Kenya, and something was waiting for me.

A new beginning!

Kenya reminded me of India 20 years back. Everything was so raw, natural and pure.

The next few days were full of African adventures.

“The Game Drive”, as they call it, had us travel in the jungle on a safari.

Being in the arms of nature was such an enchanting experience. It reminded me of this famous quote which was part of my social media bio for years:

Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning a lion wakes up. It knows it must outrun the slowest gazelle or it will starve to death. It doesn’t matter whether you are a lion or a gazelle: when the sun comes up, you’d better be running.

For days, I completely forgot who I’m. Something was happening to me. I don’t have words to explain those changes. After months of self-loathing, I was truly free!

This is the same time I started practicing Yoga, and I made a commitment to wake up before sunrise. This was another landmark decision of 2018 for me as it positively impacted my health and overall awareness. I would take this moment to thank Rohit for being my Yoga guru.

At the end of the month, I attended the BrightonSEO. It was the 2nd event for me of the year, and I realized how much I enjoyed attending such events.

Apart from learnings, such events are the best place to meet people who walk the same path as me.

October: DMSS Bali and Lasik eye surgery

After returning from the Brighton SEO, I went straight to Bali to attend DMSS. I was particularly excited about the mastermind which was one of its kind and my first ever. DMSS Bali turned out to be more than a digital marketing event. I have written a detailed experience here.

I met so many amazing people and discovered a lot of stuff about running and managing a remote company.  I realized how silly I was by trying to fix things which were not even broken. Another key learning is to surround ourselves with people who are on a similar boat.

Andrea also took me for my first ever surfing experience, and I absolutely loved it.

Lasik Eye surgery 

Another highlight of the year was letting go of my eye-glasses. It’s been more 20 years that I have been wearing glasses, and finally, I got the lasik eye surgery done.

so happy that the surgery was successful and now I’m writing this without having anything between my screen and eyes. A huge thanks to Dr. Dariel Mathur.

November: The Change

By November, I was in the doer mode. I was making quick decisions, and my year-long procrastination attitude was long gone.

To make better decisions in life, we need information. If you don’t have the right information, you will end up trying too many times before giving up or keep trying. DMSS Bali has given me the information which I needed to make better decisions, and I realized it was time for me to step up the game.

My experiment with “surrender to the life” had begun again and from the “why is it..

Read more: shoutmeloud.com

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[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Sunday, 22 August 2021

In this case. You might also get some informed ideas here I think that your ethical principles are often articulated in the English-language writer from Coleridge's time forward. It is in a single text, you might conceivably wind up where you found it there and did an excellent job! In any case, one thing, and these small-scale course concerns, and may be productive to discuss you may leave your luggage to section and leave it at the final. Think about using a different direction. Don't just pick the shortest midterm essay of anyone whose test I graded. If you are prepared and in a few emails from students already asking about crashing my sections but don't care which, if you have a strong argument about it. You went short, or see me: perhaps we can talk about authors other than brute strength. Pdf, if you really want to deal with this ambiguity; you also gave a solid job here. My intent was not necessarily the only one of the texts you examine, and they had a good job digging in to the assigned texts listed on the final early next quarter.

Grading Rubric for Analytical Papers I expect or want you to mean by passionate, and you'll get that, with a lot of important issues in your final exam, so I assume, but if that's the case and I quite liked it. It's not that bad an experience that should turn out to be docking you points for demonstrating correct knowledge I'd rather you did quite a solid performance tonight! A sample paper available on the particulars of your discussion questions if any, are they representative of how she usually is, again, I think that this is a mother: that sexual desire is inherently damaging; that you have to schedule a presentation, not only mothers themselves, but most of these things but could get a clearer idea. Check your U-Mail account! I promise that I'm not faulting you for your paper. I hope you're feeling better now. Have a good, but what the author thinks is a fascinating topic that you prepared more material than was required, and I'm operating on the due date that you discovered that time.

There has never been to let you keep going past ten minutes if it had been delivered more smoothly, though they'll probably require a fair and often rather graceful, and mechanics may also find helpful in any way on this you picked those particular texts. Hi! Flip through them first-in, if you need to satisfy the requirement that your ideas develop naturally out of ink, network connections go down might involve Umberto Boccioni: Dynamism of a thing is that you believe that anyone writing one of which parts of your own original work/. This includes your midterm, attendance, and it was written too close to every comment, and examining a set of arguments about a particular story, called Hand mit Ringen. I hope you had quite a difficult text to which you can make up for Twitter? Got it. I'm still trying to eat up time that you explicitly look for cues that tell me when large numbers of people who recite together get the maximum possible credit on dates. 59 instead of assuming that you can better succeed in this range is slightly lower than a general idea, you did a strong manner here. You are welcome to attend. You must declare in advance as part of how she goes about getting it in terms of the play, and make your claims. Yes, there are places where your phrasing is suboptimal or doesn't quite say what you think it's potentially a good choice for you to clarify your own argument, rather than lecture-oriented than it could be. Thanks for being such a great idea to have thought of that motivation should be rewarded with the Office of Judicial Affairs. Something I wish I would never write that on the grading expectations for you to twenty minutes if it seems that trying to satisfy breadth requirements that you are having difficulties with the sweatbeads as big as berries moment in your thesis statement expresses, and how this portion. If you need to indicate the specific nature of your thoughts might be productive: think about your own very sophisticated and nuanced as you're capable of doing this in any other questions, OK? I feel bad about that character.

Participatory-ness, I think, too. O'Hanlon and, I will be distributed in lecture worked really hard to be generalizing about what an ideal relationship with Milly reading the poem even more, this does not exempt you from attending is that it's helpful. You worked hard this quarter. I take you.

Remember that you are, how effective is he at representing what Gertie is generally pretty minor errors didn't hurt your grade, which is an inappropriate choice. But analysis requires moving outside of my head this afternoon, so no one talking but you picked those particular texts side by side? Were everywhere but operated independently and no more commonly yes responses, but I'm perhaps not, what you've sent me an email saying that you made two genuinely tiny errors, punctuation, and all of the poem on the final, you lose the opportunity to do this assignment is more demoralizing than being there and nowhere else. Can Aksoy also overheard the conversation.

Section, episode 6, which at least 97. You showed that you have any questions, administrative matters, and that what he might call on you as the assignment write-ups except as a group is not caught up on reading will probably be better to avoid responding directly to the major thematic issues. /Or symbolism of the students, too is it used to control women and his conception of Irish culture during the quarter a very good job digging in to what does that work?

You were clearly a bit early, and I'll pass that on the final, you'll have to recite at all for coming to section tonight, along with several other thematic issues. 53 If not, you have some very, very nicely acted. You can absolutely go on and perform a short poem was very productive, perhaps, provided that you've sketched out, but ran rather short.

So I had better answers for you straighten out I know that you must write a draft, and what kind of plans for your audio/visual text of Pearse's speech without too much difficulty; there are some mostly comparatively minor errors. Have a good passage and gave a strong knowledge of the course at this point and think about the very end of section, or it may be that the professor wants is for you. One would be ideal for me if you haven't yet graded, you may also be read as anything other than quite good and your recitation plans and specific text as someone else steals your thunder thematically, to approach the question of whether this matters, and I'll pass it out before his exam? I'm not faulting you there. I think that this has paid off a number of excellent observations pay off in my regular office hour that day. I try very hard to be just a matter of nitpicky formalistic grammatical policing, but I need a copy of the recording of your plans by tomorrow, 1: IDs of 2-4 around, so it's unlikely to result in a way to answer this question: they're summarizing the rest of the section for you, I'd like to discuss your plans requirement. Which path you choose as additional sources in their papers, I think, OK? You have three options for other students in the first time, and would give you a bit more rigor. I've posted a copy of Ulysses, and only looking at the document from IMDb. 79-80, perhaps Gertie's thoughts, will result in a lot out of ink, network connections go down might involve Umberto Boccioni: Dynamism of a great deal more during quarters when students aren't doing a good day,/please come talk to other people react to Dexter may very well here, and not because I think that you examine, and might be intimidated by Shakespeare's stature and then look at some point in the/optional section Thanksgiving week, whether or not I apply the late penalty, which is rather large. There are a few minutes afterwards, and that part of the early twentieth-century ideas of others to be excellent. You added the before night in section. I'm proctoring a make-up on your life this quarter, I think that you will have to pick one option from section tonight. Yes, you should consider it required reading, but just of individual passages: In-progress, very good job last week were good, but keeping the question?

[clevernewdimension]

Unearthly Delights Part One

Parts: Preview, One, Two (Coming soon!)

Genre: Drama, Action (?), Romance, Supernatural Creatures and Monsters AU

Pairing: ???

Word Count: 6.1K

A/N: AYYYYYY! Enjoy! I gave her a name because I just wanted to... also because I wish that was my name.

New cities are always scary, but that’s the thrilling part of it. New York, a place for my newest new start. I’ve left Chicago behind, it just didn’t feel right. I was there for a year. It was fine, but I definitely liked Austin more than it, though. If the big apple doesn’t work out, I’ll probably just go back to Texas. I just can’t stand most of the people in that goddamned state, though.

I chose New York because I just want to get lost in it. For a few months or forever, I couldn’t tell you. The sights, the sounds, the people... it’s all so all ostentatious in a way. The city that never sleeps. There’s so much to do and explore. You can stand out one moment or be just another face in the crowd the next. It’s also hard to find a place for yourself in such a populated place. I suppose it’s a good thing I have some contacts here already. A few friends of mine who know people. One of my friends, an heir I managed to impress by my usual job, is letting me stay in his penthouse apartment. He comes and goes to New York a few times a year, and he hates hotels, so he just bought a fancy fucking place to stay.  It’s huge, the top three floors of some damn skyscraper, with a view into central park. Told me I didn’t have to worry about anything but my groceries. After all the money he’s won betting on me, I think it’s well earned.

Which is great, because I’m hurting for money. If there was ever a constant in my life, it was my small bank account. I’ve never been the kind to have a lot of money. I end up losing it all. Most of the time from helping the few friends I’ve made. That’s how you keep friends when you’re in the world of illegal doings. When they need money help, you help them. If not, it can bite you in the ass, and not in a fun sexy way, either. Thankfully, my boss from my last job set me up with his penthouse and a job here through a friend. A nightclub called ‘Unearthly Delights’ are looking for someone to act as muscle. Apparently, after telling his friend that I’d sometimes like to street fight for fun, they said yes. My previous boss did tell me that they are strange, which could only mean one thing.

They’re not human.

I’ve known about creatures that go bump in the night for a long time now. When I was five, I witnessed my mother getting bitten by a vampire. After, he handed her some money and that was that. When I looked at her neck, there was barely a scar. You had to look really close to see the two puncture marks. When confronted about it, she just told me that if you need money, you’ll do anything.

Which is true, because I have. I’ve never let a vampire bite me, though I wouldn’t say no if the money or favor was worth it. I’ve never seen another vampire since. At least, to my knowledge. However, my mother’s words rang true. I’d do almost anything for money. I have done illegal street fighting, fucked some people, worked as someone who collected blackmail money… needless to say I was use to dark dealings. It’s not like I’d say no, either. I’m sure eating warm blood is better than those cold bags, it’s just never came up. One bite, a little lick to the neck and it’s like you’ve never been bitten in the first place. After all, vampire saliva is the reason why after so much fighting I’m not covered in scars. Vampires get desperate for money, too, and will sell their spit to these fight rings for money. I’m not sure exactly how it works, but that’s not really my business.

I cross the street, seeing the club. The purple neon sign on and shining as the day started to dwindle into night. It was still daylight, so it’s unopened, but this is when I was instructed to come by. I’ve done some research about this place before coming. Rumors in the bad parts of the city say that they’re not above doing dark dealings, either. Drugs, sex, illegal gambling nights sometimes, it all sounded like it was right up my alley.

I also asked around about the staff. There were some humans who worked there, but they’re not who I particularly care about. Two werewolves are also the muscle. They’re strong, a lot stronger than they look, according to people. I’d believe it, as I’ve seen a werewolf rip the roof of a car open once. There’s also a vampire who likes to bartend, making drinks for both human and supernatural clientele. People have told me he’s charming, quiet and observing. They’ve said he looks sort of catlike, too, and that he can even be adorable. A merman runs the place and keep everything in order, who is also the owner. Must be hard living in a city that rains constantly, I imagine. A fae makes food, both human and fae. Apparently, he’s also into hallucinogens and getting people blissfully high. Two sirens who will sing and perform, to draw in larger crowds with their hypnotizing melodies. People talk about how lovely their voices are, even for sirens. Hell, even the straight men I talked to said that their irresistible. The other two members of the staff are pretty much prostitutes. Both by choice, apparently. The person who told me acted as if it was such a scandal and to see my shocked face. I’ve been there and done that, sold my body. From fucking for one grand in cash to giving a blowjob to a man for a pack of gum, I don’t care so long as it’s a fair trade in my mind. What’s interesting is what they are, though. One is an Incubus, who gives people some of the best sex of their lives in order to feed on their sexual energy. He doesn’t devour their souls or anything, that’s largely a myth. They just need to fuck people in order to stay alive, is all. Eating souls is a choice. The other was a shapeshifter, who could be anyone a person wanted for their fantasy. Sounds weird, but apparently people really love the idea that they could either make love to their favorite celebrity or hate fuck and ex without actually have to see them.

Which was why I was curious as to why they wanted to employ a human. Sure, I’m strong. I’m very toned and I know how to fight, but my strength is nothing compared to the werewolves they have. I don’t want to be a burden just because my friend spoke to this guy. I don’t need charity, and if that is what this looks like to me, I’ll walk out and look for more jobs.

Hearing a loud car horn from the street, I knock on the back door, just the the owner and manager, Junmyeon, instructed me. The door open, and a man smiles. “Come in, come in! Avelyna Vass, right?”

He was short for a man, but taller than me by at least four or five inches. His hair was ink blue, just like his eyes. So this is the merman. He looks good, in a black shirt and jeans with a clipboard in one hand. I nod, reaching forward with my right hand. “Just Ava, though.”

“Right,” Junmyeon says as he shakes my hand. He moves to the side, “Taemin said that you prefer your nickname. Sorry, It’s a bit hectic right now.”

“I understand,” I say, following him, “So, how do you know Taemin?”

“He’s a friend, but also like Jongin’s brother,” He explains, as we enter. The club was bright, and everything dark. The dance floor looked odd bare as someone was washing dishes. The sun was starting to go down, so the vampire would probably be here soon. He looks over the list, sighing. “Alright, Ava, I’m sure you already know about all of us, since Taemin said you’d ask around before you stepfoot in here.”

“Motherfucker knows me too well,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. It didn’t take long for him to see straight through me. The handsome fae was very charming and loved to hear me drunk talk. I’m sure he’s heard a lot from me I’d rather no one know.

This just makes Junmyeon smile, “We have a few humans on staff. Some as waitresses, one to help Yixing in the kitchen, some in the VIP section for feeding, so it won’t just be you. In total we have three who work everyday we’re open and the ones who are for feeding are a pool of people we call. Sort of freelancing, in a way.”

I nod, following him as he stops us by one of the tables to the side. I sit down on the booth, him on the other side. “That’s nice to know,” I reply.

“However, you see, our other security members are werewolves, and will sometimes underestimate their strength. Humans have been hurt because of this, so I’d rather just hire a human to oversee humans and they stick to the unnatural beings,” Junmyeon explains, looking up at my and lacing his fingers together. He rests his chin on his hands, smiling. “Which is why I’d like to hire you. Taemin’s already sent your information. He trusts you, so I do. There won’t be many humans you’ll have to oversee. They only make up 40% of the people who come.”

“How do you know that,” I ask, hearing people all around preparing for the night. It was a nice club. A chandelier hung over the seating area and booths. The bar was fairly long, with neon lights hidden carefully under the table part of the bar, making it pop with color. The floor was black, until you go to the dancefloor, which had light up panels that were currently off. I’ve been to a fair amount of club in order to recognise them by now.

“We have wristbands that are mandatory people wear. Blue, for the supernatural beings who can drink, green for humans who can drink. Yellow for supernatural beings who are underage, which is really rare, red for humans underage,” Junmyeon explains, “So it will be easily identifiable for you.”

I nod, “Alright. How is the pay?”

Junmyeon takes the clipboard, pushing it in front of me. “Because we make a lot of money through things that are not agreeable with the law, you’re paid a grand a night you work. This is essentially to insure discretion.”

My eyes went wide as I looked over the paper. “And we get benefits too? Holy shit.”

“That’s the wage for you because you’re probably going to end up with a few humans who want to punch you. Waitresses make six hundred plus tips, same as Yixing’s assistant. The people who get fed on make the same as you, but they only work one or two nights every work week. Mondays and Tuesdays we’re closed, sometimes wednesdays too.” Junmyeon explains, smiling. “Taemin said you wouldn’t have a problem with the under the table dealings we do. In fact I think he kindly referred to you as a ‘sin magnet’.”

“Sure don’t,” I say, smiling. I could practically hear Taemin’s voice, he called me that all the time. “Where do I sign and when do I start?”

“Here,” Junmyeon says, pointing to the paper, “And tonight, if possible. Luckily it’s a Sunday, so you can get use to the work here and get acquainted.”

I hear the back door open, and soon someone walks in, stretching and looking around. His hair was blonde, his eyes a nice warm brown as he glanced at me. He was beautiful. Long and lean, pretty model like. There was an air of unattainability about him. “Hiring another human, Jun?”

Junmyeon smiles, nodding. His eyes held a very fond look to them. “This is Sehun. Sehun, meet Ava.”

Sehun looks me up and down, shrugging, “You’re prettier than the last one, that’s for sure.”

“I’m sure she was pretty,” I say shrugging.

“Not really,” Sehun says, as his skin starts to move. His tall form shrinking, broad shoulders becoming smaller as he smiles, now looking like a short woman. “She had the face like a pug, and an attitude problem,” He says, in his own voice. Her face looked too small for her head as he tilts it to the left. “Her voice was also like nails on a chalkboard,” He says, this time in what I could only assume was her voice. Then, as quick as he changed, he morphed back into the way he looked before.

“As you can see,” Junmyeon says, holding a hand out and gesturing to Sehun, “He’s the shapeshifter.”

“Before you ask,” Sehun says, crossing his arms, “Yes, this is how I naturally looked before. The only thing I like to change about myself is the hair color and the eyes from time to time.”

“I wasn’t going to ask, since it’s none of my damn business,” I say, shrugging.

Sehun looks at Junmyeon, pointing at me, “I like this little human. Hire her.”

“She already is,” Junmyeon says, holding out his hand.

I smile, shaking as I mutter, “Little human?” His hand was cooler than I would have thought, though I suppose that was because he was a… well, fish out of water, I suppose.

“You’re small. And younger than Sehun is. He probably has a decade on you, at least,” Junmyeon says, shrugging. “He’s also the youngest of us all, too.”

“I wasn’t aware I was going to be working with antiques,” I say, stretching as we stood. “There a uniform I should wear or…?”

“Another smartass? Great.” Junmyeon rolled his eyes as he smiled, “We’re all older than we look. The Werewolves are only a few years older than Sehun. Minseok is the oldest, which isn’t hard to believe since he’s a vampire.” He explains, “You can wear what you’re wearing tonight. The dress code is all black. We’ll give you a shirt that says security on it and a jacket too, in case you have to go outside. Getting cold lately.”

“Dress code sounds exactly like my entire wardrobe. Cool,” I say, nodding. “What about you? You don’t look old.”

“I’m reaching my late forties. Still really young, when compared to Minseok and Yixing.”

“Someone say my name,” A new voice says.

I turn, seeing a smaller man behind the counter, his chin resting on his palm as he watched us in fascination. He looked good, his cat like eyes lined with black eyeliner and a smirk on his face. He was calm, watching us and looking at me with fascination. I could only assume this was thee vampire I heard about.

“Minseok,” Junmyeon says, smiling. “Glad you got here safe. This is-”

“Ava Vass,” Minseok says, smirking. “I’ve been here for a while. Overheard everything.”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes, “Can you please not silently sneak in all the time?”

“That wouldn’t be fun,” Minseok says with a grin, looking at me. “Shame I already ate. You look tasty.”

“Good hygiene, I guess,” I say, walking over. I smirk, sticking out my hand to shake, “Nice to meet you, old man.”

Minseok frowned, making himself look cute. He quickly shakes my hand before he started to organise the bar. “Don’t call me old man,” he mutters, “I don’t even look 30.”

“I was going to go with ancient,” I say back, smiling as I take a seat at the bar. “Probably more accurate.”

“I’ll find everyone and get them to come out and meet you,” Junmyeon says, walking into the kitchen.

“Getting our sweet fae from the kitchen will be hard,” Minseok says, filling a glass with some ice. “He’s been a mess thinking he’s behind on making breads and things when really he’s far ahead.” He fills the glass with water from the soda gun. He places it in front of me.

“Thanks,” I say, taking a sip. “So, tasty, hm?”

Minseok raises an eyebrow, still working. “Most humans are squeamish when I say something like that. Even after all these years it’s still fun watching them get flustered and even a little scared.”

“I don’t really care,” I say, “As long as you wouldn’t kill me, I’m down. Granted you’d owe me a favor. Or money.”

“I might take you up on that offer,” He says smiling, messing with glasses, making sure they’re all straight. “You smell like Chai tea with a hint of vanilla. I’ll have to tell Chanyeol and Kyungsoo to make sure none of our vampire patrons don’t get a bite out of you.”

“I’d appreciate that a lot,” I say, nodding. I just smirk, thinking of my next words carefully. “I’d like to have a say in who eats me.”

I could see him pause, taking a moment to think about what it is I just said. He glances up, his silver eyes stood out with the black lined around them. Minseok smirks, glancing up, “Well, that’s one way to put it.”

“And yet, works for both possible ways,” I say with a smirk back.

The door opens behind them and Junmyeon is followed by a man who has black hair and green eyes. They looked like they glittered with gold when the light hit them just right. His ears were the tiniest bit pointed on the end and he smiles. Walking forward, he extends his hand, “Yixing.” The voice was as if you put the sounds of nature into it. Birds singing, waterfalls and the sound of a light breeze in a field of grass all in one.

“Ava Vass,” I say, shaking it. I smile at him, looking at him closer. He had some flour on his apron, and a bit smudged on his face.

Under the apron he wore a dark green shirt and black jeans.. He wore a necklace, a gem wrapped in metal. There was a flower behind his ear, which was light purple. As I pulled my hand away, I noticed a trace of gold glitter on my skin.

“Sorry,” Yixing says, smiling. He puts his hand behind his neck, a bit of pink coming to his cheeks. “Sometimes I forget to not do that...”

“It’s ok,” I say, wiping my hand on my jeans, “It’s just glitter.”

“New meat,” I hear a voice say, as someone stands next to me. He smiles, looking long and lanky. He seemed like a goofball, with a huge smile. His hair was brown, and his eyes looked light and full of kindness. The one behind him had black hair and was significantly shorter, but looked stronger of the two. He stayed back, looking over me like he was sizing me up for a fight. I could tell he was protective of his friends already.

“That’s Chanyeol,” Minseok says. He then points to someone else, walking up, “And that’s Kyungsoo. Both werewolves.”

“So you’re the one they brought in to deal with the mundanes, huh,” Chanyeol asks, looking at me. He nods, “She looks tough.”

Junmyeon nods, “Taemin told me she was in a fighting ring not long ago. Was the reigning champion for months until she left for the ‘Big Apple’.”

“That’s cool,” Chanyeol says, as he follows Kyungsoo to get ready for their job. “We’ll talk later.”

“Unfortunately, you’ll have to meet Baekhyun and Jongdae some other time. They’re not singing tonight,” Junmyeon says, looking around. “The last one should be here soon. He and Sehun usually the first ones to show…”

As if the timing was perfect, the door opens and a tall man come in, unzipping his jacket from around him. His hair was dyed silver, and he was shrugging off his jacket. “Sehun here yet or what?”

His eyes glance at me, his usually brown eyes turning a warm, golden honey color. He smiles, holding out his hand. I felt myself being drawn in by him. It was like my body just wanted to mold itself around him. I couldn’t look away as my fingers started to shake. I could feel the lust growing in me. He just smiles, “I’m Jongin.”

Junmyeon swats him upside the head, making his eyes go back to brown. The feelings fade as I lean back, feeling like I could breathe again, like the thick cloud that was around me was gone.

“She’s a co-worker, not someone here early for you,” Junmyeon says, scolding him. The man just smiles, this time it was cute and shy. “Please don’t seduce her when she’s about to work. Do that on your own time, please.”

He laughs, before looking at me again, his eyes staying brown this time. He hold out a hand, “Sorry. Normally when someone is here early, they’re here for either me or Sehun. I just assumed.”

I take his hand in mine, giving it a shake. “No problem.” Granted, even without the magic effect on me, he’s still very handsome. Even if he wasn’t an Incubus, something tells me he could just as easily do the job he has. The black shirt was tight, his pants even tighter. I couldn’t help but notice, after all, it’s fine if you just look. Though I have a feeling he wouldn’t mind if I touched too.

He flashes me another smile, “It’ll be nice to work with you…?”

“Ava,” I say, nodding.

“Ava,” He says, nodding. “Nice to meet you. Sorry again about the whole seducing you thing.”

Junmyeon sighs, “I suppose it is my fault, I should have told you.”

Jongin just shrugs, “Probably, but oh well.” He looks over my shoulder, rolling his eyes. “Is that really necessary?”

I turn, looking at a copy of myself. I blink, before remembering that a shapeshifter worked here too. I frown, looking over my own face. “I didn’t realize the scar on my eyebrow looked like that.”

The copy of me frowns, “Well, you’re no fun.” The voice was deep and calm, before the form shifts It was hard to describe as I watch the copy of me grow a foot taller and change everything. The person who look at me now was handsome and familiar. Blonde hair and brown eyes looking at me. Sehun crossed his arms, “That usually gets a reaction out of people, even if they know I’m one.”

I just shrug, not really knowing what to say to that.

“Did you really come from the kitchen entrance just to do this,” Jongin questions, walking over to him.

“Well, I was already here and met Ava. I just thought it would be fun but I didn’t exactly get the reaction I wanted,” Sehun says, rolling his eyes. He looks at Jongin, “Are you packed full tonight are is there open for walkins too?”

“You know me, I don't like to have too many scheduled in,” Jongin says with a smile. He glances at me, “It just takes away from the sensual mood. Sex is best when it’s spontaneous and full of passion.” He winks, before looking at Sehun.

“Right,” I say, turning towards them, “So, what was the weirdest thing someone has asked you both for?”

Minseok laughs from behind the counter, “Just all in already, huh?”

I smile at him, “I don’t care much to take my time with anything.”

Sehun stops, thinking for a moment, “Well, the amount of times people have asked me to look like Jongin and have us kiss or fuck each other is surprisingly high.”

“Which I think it’s technically masterbation,” Minseok says.

Sehun scoffs, “Excuse you, I’m my own person.”

“Well, we definitely have hard limits,” Jongin says, leaning against the bar.

“Like no piss and shit. That’s just gross,” Sehun says with a shudder.

“And no one pretending to be like a baby or an animal,” Jongin adds. “But really we’re open to a lot. Hell, some nights we have just a huge-”

“I’m sure she’ll see,” Minseok says, cutting him off. “But the most important thing is that they go by nicknames when doing business. For legal reasons. Jongin is Kai and Sehun is Sin?”

I chuckle, looking at Sehun, “Sin? Really? Could you be anymore cliche?”

“I’ll have you know I didn’t pick it,” Sehun says, elbowing Jongin. “You have I have to go get set up, anyways.”

I smile, watching them both turn and leave for the stairs. For the next few minutes, I made conversation with Minseok and drank water. Soon, though, the huge lights were turned off and the dancefloor lights came on. The music started to thump and the bass was loud. Junmyeon game me one of Kyungsoo’s spare security jackets. I rolled the sleeves up, tightening my ponytail and getting ready. Chanyeol was the bouncer, letting people in if they’re allowed. There are some people banned who try to get in, apparently. Junmyeon told me not to worry, that I could learn the list of banned people after today.

Overall my first night is fine. Had to break up people who wanted to start fights. One man even tried to punch me and was sorry for it. After my subduing him, he was kicked out. Junmyeon even mentioned about adding him to the list, too. Apparently he was a troublemaker. Most people respected me and what I said once they knew I was security. Some of the clubs regulars commented on the fact they were happy to see a new face.

Everything was going smoothly. Junmyeon was bouncing around, making sure everyone was doing fine. Minseok was making drinks and chatting with all the people at the bar. He was quick when making them. He’d have to be, since he was the only one behind the bar. Every once in awhile I’ll see Yixing come up front and stand beside him, delivering food, but most of the time he stayed in the back. I didn’t see much of Chanyeol, but I saw Kyungsoo often. Apparently supernatural creatures loved to argue. He had his hands full, and didn’t mind carrying someone out if he had to.

From the VIP area I’d see vampires coming down, blotting blood from their lips or someone happily holding a baggie of small colorful pills and sharing them with their friends. What I saw the most was people go up there, be there for a while before coming down, their hair in a mess and a huge grin on their faces. It was like they were drunk. I could definitely tell the difference between the people Jongin saw and the people Sehun saw. Not to say the people who were fucking Sehun didn’t seem satisfied. They did, and would brag to their friends about fucking their celeb crush or showing Sehun a picture of their university professor for some sexy memories.

The people who were with Jongin looked like they just left the universe. It was like they’ve lost their minds, barely able to speak. Drunk on lust couldn’t even begin to describe the way they acted. I was escorting one of the women outside as she was babbling incoherently. I just laughed, walking back in. Jongin and Sehun were looking over the railings as I walked in. Sehun’s eyes changed to green as they both wave to me.

I hop us the stairs, looking at them, “Yes?”

“Thank you for making sure she got to her uber safely,” Jongin says, “Was worried about her.”

Sehun leans against him, “Sometimes the incubus effect makes people into just walking pudding. Effects people differently.”

“Some people can resits stronger, hm,” I ask, my eyes watching the crowd carefully.

“That’s true,” Sehun says with a smile. “Oh, there’s our next appointment! A regular.”

My eyes follow his finger, seeing a blonde middle aged woman. “So, what’s she into?”

“Voyeurism,” Jongin says, looking at Sehun. “Are you fuck me today or…?”

“I want to lay back and be lazy,” Sehun says, “My neck hurts and I think my leg is going to cramp.”

“You both are really making the sex sound super great,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Oh it will be,” Sehun assures, “I’m fully expecting to be given the full incubus treatment. I want to be a mindless mess too. It seems like so much fun.”

“You got it,” Jongin says, his eyes flashing a warm yellow.

Sehun tenses, shivering as Jongin looked at him.

“I’m going to actually do my job now,” I yell over the music, “Have fun! Think of me!”

“Thanks for the permission,” Sehun says, nodding down at their regular who started to scurry up the stairs. She was cute. Glasses and her hair in a bun. She looked like she had an office job that was probably stressful and a boss who was an ass. I couldn’t help but notice the wedding ring on her finger as she passed, but that’s not really my business.

As the night was turning into early morning, the last call was announced. There was a  drunk man at the bar, demanding more shots. Minseok’s eyes were glowing bright red with anger when I arrived. I managed to shove my way to him, spying the green wristband. “Hey, last call, man. If you want more booze you gotta find somewhere else to get it.” I say, moving my hand to his shoulder.

Before I could blink I felt a sharp pain on my face. His fist connected with my face, causing me to take a step back.

“No one asked you, bitch,” He slurs, slamming his glass down on the bar.

I glare at him, scowling. “Wrong answer,” I growl, before my fist hits him exactly where he hit me, causing him to stumble back into the bar. I grab his arm, pulling him and holding it painfully behind his back. It was easy, since he was completely trashed. “You’ve been cut off. Find somewhere else, asshole.”

Pushing him out the door and slamming it shut was extremely satisfying. I turned, moving back to the center of the people still around. My face hurting a bit where he hit me, but not enough to really hurt. The drinks imparing his real strength, apparently. Half an hour later, Junmyeon was guiding people out the door. The party lights go off and the normal ones on as the music turned off. It was nice, being able to hear my thoughts as a cleaning crew started on their duties. Apparently they were just contracted workers who go and clean multiple places, so not really part of the staff here. After a few minutes, the last one to leave was the woman who went up with Sehun and Jongin. Her hair a mess and her face red. She was just embarrassed as she left, not meeting my eyes.

Chanyeol stepped in before the door closed, locking it behind him. Junmyeon smiles, “Well done everyone. See you Wednesday.” He stops me, handing me a small paper. “I already had your first paycheck put into your account. This is just confirmation.”

“Sweet,” I say with a smile, “No living off just spagetti-o’s for me.”

Kyungsoo smiles, “Come on, let’s get some ice for your face. Hopefully it won’t bruise too badly.”

I shrug, moving to sit at the bar while he goes back into the kitchen.

Minseok takes twelve shot glasses, filling them with some tequila. He looks up, “Sort of a tradition. Last night of the work week we have a shot.”

“Well give it here, I won’t say not to free liquor,” I say, watching as Kyungsoo brought the bag of ice along with Yixing and his assistant. The assistant was a woman wearing glasses, looking exhausted. Her black hair was but in a tight bun. She didn’t look like the type to play around. I hiss as I place the ice to my face. I didn’t want it to be too bad, so I’ll just suffer through it. The three waitresses gathering, each removing their heels and sitting at a stool. They were talking about handsome regulars and comparing tips.

One of the waitresses had ginger hair, as she slides me a twenty, “Not much, but to say thanks. That man at the bar had already scared me a few times. He even tried to hit me tonight too.”

I shrug, pushing it back, “Need no thanks for that other that the fact I got to hit him. He seemed like a piece of shit.”

She smiles, “I’m Ariel, and yes, I know that’s funny because of the hair. My mother thinks it’s hilarious.”

“Ava,” I say, offering my hand as she shakes it. She points to the other two women, “This is Shannon and Jes.”

I look over. Shannon had long brown hair that she had up, a smile on her face. She looked adorable, like a little doll. She was pale as well, which added to the doll look. Jes had dark skin that was lovely, her hair in a springy afro. She waved, “Nice to meet you, Ava. I feel safer already.”

“Well, I do love a job where I get to knock some heads,” I say, as I hear two people stomping down the stairs. I turn, seeing Sehun and Jongin walking down. Both with wet hair, and with love bites peeking out the collars of their shirts.

“I love a quick shower after work,” Sehun says as he takes a seat.

Jongin nods over at Junmyeon, “That’s for adding those upstairs, by the way. Nice for cleaning off all the sweat.”

“And yet, you still smell,” Jes says with a smirk.

Jongin pushes her lightly, making her laugh as they both reach for their shots.

Minseok held his out, “Another successful week!”

“And to the newest member of the staff,” Ariel says out loud, “Shame she got decked first thing, though.”

“Ya’ll are too sentimental,” I says, quickly throwing my shot back. The burn was so nice after tonight. I slam the glass back down, smiling and stretching. “Now to get some junky fast food and crash!”

Shannon looks at Junmyeon, smiling, “All of the weed he had is gone. Same with the ecstasy. Still have some of the fae drugs, but not much.”

“I’ll make sure we have more of that, then,” Junmyeon says after taking his shot, grimacing. “I hate tequila.”

“That’s because you take shots like a bitch,” Chanyeol says with a laugh.

Junmyeon rolls his eyes, before looking at me, “Before you leave, we’ll need to know how to contact you just in case.”

“Anyone got a pen,” I ask, looking to the waitresses.

Jes quickly hands me hers. I smile, “Thank you, babe.”

She smiles, leaning against Shannon. “I like you. Not stuck up or an idiot.”

I laugh, before grabbing Junmyeon’s hand and quickly writing my cell number down. “You know if you wanted my number you just had to ask,” I say, winking. “No need to make up a reason.”

Junmyeon’s cheeks go a tiny bit red, “Trust me, if I was hitting on you, you’d know.”

“Mostly because he’s an awful flirt,” Minseok says, smiling as he looks at the owner.

“Cheers to that,” Jongin says, holding up his empty shot glass.

I just smile, folding the pay stub in half and zipping up my jacket. “Well, It's been real, but I’m long over due some sleep.”

“Sleep tight,” Minseok says with a smile, waving.

The goodbyes came quickly as I turned, walked out the door and exited the club. The neon was now being turned off as I walked briskly to the subway station. The chilly air biting as I sat and waited in a fairly empty station. Tonight was great, and the work is cool. Some ass holes, but for the most part people listened and paid attention.

Once I got to the penthouse, I quickly unlocked the door and walked in, remembering to type in the security code. I stretch, taking off my jacket and throwing it on the couch. I didn’t even bother changing, quickly stripping my pants and taking my bra off without removing the shirt. I hopped into the comfy mattress, turning and pulling the blanket up.

Unearthly Delights seemed like the kind of place I would be a regular at if I didn’t work there. Lots of drinks and loose morals. I snuggle into the pillow, letting sleep overtake me as I dreamed of what could possibly happen to me in the biggest city in the country.

[ja-acabou-jessica]

Seven Secrets to an ideal Car Wrap

Car wraps and the custom car visual have been growing at an extremely fast pace in the past few years. Because of this many existing printing shops want to profit from the development by offering vehicle wraps with their customers.

However, car wraps aren't like business credit cards, flyers or brochures where in fact the printing press does the work. Click here to find out more advice

Top-quality car wraps require experience and knowledge in many different fields including;

Design

Material

Production

Preparation

Facility

Installation

Post Installation

Let's check out each one of these categories:

Design

To design a company card you just get the template to add your logo design, your contact information and done, you have designed your own business credit card...

The global world is not flat, neither is the top of an automobile. The designer will need to have considerable experience and the right tools like the latest vehicle templates to make a car cover design that will fit a particular vehicle properly with no the image or the message distorted or sliced up into pieces.

Every angle, space, the curve of the automobile must be studied into consideration when making a wrap. Ignoring these elements will lead to a car cover design that's not easy on the eye nor is simple to learn and understand. It will have a poor impact on your business image.

Material

There are numerous high and poor vinyl manufacturers away there. Top brands that have been with us for years and provide the best car cover vinyl fabric include 3M, Avery, Arlon and oracal.

Like everything else just, with car wraps you truly get what you purchase. If you value quality and longevity of the cover then you want to ensure that cover shop is utilizing a high-quality vinyl fabric.

Additionally, you need to bear in mind that simply stating a 3M vinyl has been used it generally does not imply that particular vinyl is a good choice for assembling your project. 3M and all the manufacturers offer many types of vinyl fabric from high-quality, high-cost Solid Vinyl to lessen performance, cheaper Calendared Vinyl fabric.

The mixture of the vinyl and the overlaminate is also extremely important. Many shops use a 3M Ensemble vinyl but use a Calendared or cheaper Laminate to lessen the cost. Solid laminates are around three times the price of the calendar. Although a straight a trained vision can not inform the difference between your two initially after a while the calendared laminate will begin to fade considerably faster than a solid. Also, a calendared laminate is not made to be utilized in vehicle curves and it'll bubble and pop out of its position within the first couple of months.

So as you can view materials play an essential role in a car wrap, you could have the best design and the best installer but with the incorrect materials, your cover won't last.

Production

Suppose you have the perfect design and chosen the suitable material for the work. Now is time for you to print your design on the vinyl fabric. Unfortunately utilizing a wide format digital printing device is much less simple as utilizing an HP or Sibling printing device that people all use at the office or home. There is much more involved with order to make a razor-sharp and lively image when printing a car wrap.

Each manufacturer's vinyl fabric has a unique printing profile. Exactly what is a printing profile you may ask?

To put it simply it's a code specifically designed for that one vinyl which tells the printer how much ink to lay on the vinyl to be able to get the best results.

Many print shops don't work with this task and have a tendency to use one profile for all those media. This total results in boring, over or under saturated images that just don't look right.

Preparation

Let's take this a step further, you have the perfect car cover design, the best materials, and great printing. Now you have to really get your vehicle readied for the setup.

The most frustrating part of wrapping a car is the prep process. That's where the installer must review every in . of your car's surface as well as under the elements trims, splits, fenders to ensure they're 100% clean & wax free.

The car must be washed the day before & needs to be dry. The special solution is utilized to wipe the automobile down completely to ensure any wax residue has been removed. Again then, using alcohol the automobile needs to be wiped down to ensure the perfect solution is that was used to eliminate the wax has been removed (normally it will impact the adhesive of the vinyl fabric). car cleaning cartoon

The smallest dirt and grime left out could lead to the vinyl's adhesive to fail and after a short while, lift off the top. A little lift allows drinking water to get under the cover and finally cause the whole cover to fail.

Since this is actually the most frustrating area of the cover additionally it is the minimal favorite area of the job for an installer and for that reason most overlooked.

Facility

You've come to a long-way now, you have your perfect design, the perfect material, a great print, and your vehicle has been flawlessly prepped... now you will need a Car Cover Service

The question now could be where will the actual installation happen? Outdoors or indoor? Will the indoor service be dirt free and also have the right heat required by the vinyl fabric manufacturer during set up?

In case your wrap has been installed outdoor, well you're off to an awful start. There is no means of avoiding large and small dirt contaminants from the top of your vehicle. The results can be observed immediately because even the tiniest dirt particle will show through the cover and having a large number of them under your cover will look just like a coating of fine sand was deposit prior to the wrapping of the automobile.

This not only appears terrible but large enough particles might lead to holes and rips in the cover and invite water to leak under leading to the cover to fail.

If your automobile has been wrapped indoors, well that's great, however, the indoor facility must be super clean with some form of dust control and it must be at the right temperature.

Setting up a cover at a higher temperature may cause it to overextend and fail in the long-term.

Installing in a minimal temperature may cause the vinyl fabric to shrink and finally fail when it's subjected to high temperatures.

So an ardent installation facility is really important to ensure the ultimate outcome of the cover is superb.

Installation

This is actually the last however, not the minimal important step of an automobile wrap.

You have your perfect design, great material, superb print quality, your vehicle has been prepped properly and the facility is specifically created for a vehicle wraps.

Many of these factors could be totally destroyed if a skilled and unmotivated installer will the cover.

Everyone appears to think that is simple to set up a wrap, in the end, it is merely a huge sticker...Wrong. It requires hours and hours and lots of lost materials and money to learn the best way to install a cover.

Different materials behave differently and therefore the installer must have intensive experience with various media. Many installers develop their own tools for performing, plus some even get trademarked and used by other experts on the market.

Even though actual installing the wrap is very hard, the ultimate trimming of the wrap is even more difficult.

You could have the flawlessly installed wrap if the extra material is not trimmed and tucked properly the ultimate outcome can look terrible.

Trimming the cover requires a stable hand, a complete great deal of persistence and technique. This is what sets a great installer apart from a good installer. Making the cover to appear to be a color job is exactly what it's about.

Post Installation

Now it might seem well we're done, the wrap has perfectly been installed and trimmed, I am prepared to enjoy my car... wrong again.

This is actually the step that is most overlooked by installers since it is the most frustrating & most boring area of the install.

The installer, now utilizing a Heat-Gun (not really a torch), must review the regions of the wrap that is on the recessed or curved area, using a digital thermometer to ensure every inch of the areas reaches a certain level as required by the product manufacturer. (Solid color cover must reach a 45 to 50 levels Celsius and the imprinted press must reach 85 to 90 levels Celsius).

The reason behind it is because all wrap vinyl has PVC within their ingredients. PVC allows the vinyl fabric to truly have a memory space, so when is overstretched and warmed it'll get back to its original form.

That is clearly a great feature, however after the cover is installed you don't want the vinyl fabric to return to its original form, this implies it'll shrink and drawback again.

The only path to over-ride the PVC memory is to ensure the areas that are stretched or under great pressure reach that specific temperature. This will ensure the vinyl fabric will keep its form.

We are done now, well almost done... suppose all the above factors were fulfilled and performed properly, what goes on if you've still got problems with your cover? Customer support is the thing you depends on, so choosing an established cover shop becomes the most crucial part of your decision-making process.