#figured this style would be good for rendering practice and it turned out better than I thought

[heavendraven]

[REACTION SPEED - IMPOSSIBLE] Gracefully step OVER the cat

[mercy-burning]

She’s An Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer discovers that Reader has a rather promiscuous personality behind closed doors, and he can’t help but give into her. Category: SMUT (18+), (there’s a lil fluff at the end, but it’s mostly filth lol) Warnings: Language, heavy flirting and sexual tension, female/male-receiving oral sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, innocence kink (kinda?), breeding kink, dirty talk Word Count: 10.8k

***EDITED: 7/23/2021***

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, guys! This is my entry for @willowrose99 ‘s 1-Year Writing Challenge Celebration! My prompts were: Only Angel by Harry Styles (fun fact, this is my favorite Harry song! And the notes/texts that Reader sends to Spencer are lines from the song), stealing clothes, and the dialogue “You know, I kinda like it when you call me -pet name-” I hope you all enjoy it! I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!!!

Also! Little fun fact: sex and metaphors/references to religion is like... my favorite thing in the whole world, so I made a tiny playlist for you to give a listen if you’re interested! If you have song recs so I can add them, please let me know! I’m always on the lookout for new stuff :) Enjoy!!

***

He didn't think much of it the first day she started working at the BAU. If anything, Spencer was glad that they had an intern— someone who could share some of their responsibilities without completely changing the dynamic of the work. She even became part of their family, going out with them after cases, attending every workplace gathering, whether it be a wedding for a co-worker they didn't see often, one of Rossi's dinner parties, or Henry's birthday party.

It wasn't until they were setting up for the BAU office Halloween party that he noticed something was... different.

Y/N and Spencer were put on decorating duty while everyone else brought food and music, and whatever else. They stopped by extra early to set up, meaning they would be there together, alone, for at least two hours before anyone showed up.

Normally that wouldn't have been anything to worry about, but Y/N showed up in costume, and it completely threw him for a loop.

Now, he wasn't one to really care whether or not people used Halloween as an outlet to dress like sexy nurses or cheerleaders or whatever else. Sure, he'd rather go with something on the scary side, something with a creepy mask or intricate makeup, but in the end the holiday was everyone's to enjoy how they wanted to. And one way or the other, he never saw anyone in a sexy Halloween costume and found himself tempted by them in the slightest. In fact, it was rare that he ever saw anyone in one at all.

So, when Y/N slowed up to the office wearing a very skin-tight, tiny schoolgirl costume, and his heart leapt out of his chest, mouth going dry and blood running hot at the sight of her?

He was a goner.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him, dropping the large bag she was carrying to run over and give him a hug, which he shakily returned, trying to snap out of his daze. Suddenly he felt a little underdressed, not wearing his costume yet, and truthfully, he wasn't sure if he wanted to wear one at all now, fearful that she'd think it was too immature.

Even more frightening than the holiday itself was the fact that Spencer found himself caring about what Y/N would think of his costume when a minute ago it hadn't even crossed his mind.

He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly before she released him from her hug, hoping to expel his fear and remember that she was his friend and she'd never actually say anything bad about his costume. Not that that'd even mattered in the first place. It shouldn't have mattered, right?

God, pull yourself together! She's just a pretty girl dressed in a suggestive costume, it's nothing you haven't seen before...

Though, he wasn't even sure he could call her a pretty girl right then.

Because when she pulled away from him, talking about some of the decorations she brought, he had ample opportunity to get a good look at her costume up close. And she wasn't pretty. She was downright sexy, all legs protruding underneath a short plaid skirt and adorning shiny black heels, curly hair tumbling down her shoulders in pigtails. Her shirt was so low, most of the buttons undone to reveal a black lacy bra underneath. She wore a pair of glasses that sat cutely on the tip of her nose and minimal makeup, the only noticeable thing being bright red lip color.

That wasn't what was different, though.

Sure, she'd never worn anything that scandalous around work or even on nights out, but it wasn't the fact that she'd done so now that felt strange. No, it was the way she looked up at him, her head hung low and her eyes looking up through eyelashes. When she got excited to tell him something, she pitched her voice higher. And often times, she'd put herself in compromising positions, and it seemed like it was on purpose.

At one point she stood right in front of him trying to hang a streamer on a beam she was most certainly not tall enough to reach. Her arms stretched high, all fabric on her body rising up and exposing more skin. Spencer quickly tried to avoid any problems, offering to help so she wouldn't hurt herself, first of all, but also so that he wouldn't find himself staring too long when he shouldn't have been staring at all.

The whole time they were decorating, she found excuses to drop things and pick them up, to stumble and hold onto his arm for steadiness, to accidentally brush past him... And that's what was so different about her.

He didn't want to assume she'd been drinking before coming to the office, and if he'd known any better he wouldn't have assumed it in the first place. But that was the one and only thing that crossed his mind that could have been the answer to her strange behavior, despite the lack of alcohol on her breath. (The only reason he knew her breath didn't smell of alcohol was because at one point, she hugged him again and pulled back to look in his eyes, brushing stray curls from his face and telling him they did a good job finishing up the room they'd been working on.)

Now they were in the conference room, and Spencer was hanging streamers as Y/N sat in one of the chairs, wheeled back to the middle of the room so she could observe everything. Well... observe Spencer was more correct. At least that's what he figured, anyway. It was like he could feel her eyes burning into the back of him. Or maybe he was just still unable to get over the fact that she and her stupidly hot costume had had that big of an effect on him.

He stood down from the chair and asked Y/N to hand him more tape, refusing to look at her.

"Spence, are you alright?" she asked sweetly, rolling her chair over to the table so she could reach the tape. The innocent concern in her voice had that same suspicious tone to it that wouldn't leave him alone, like it was nagging him and calling to him... begging to confront her.

He flicked his gaze down to meet hers for the briefest of seconds before looking back at the table. "N—Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" She picked up the tape and toyed with it between her fingers, which were manicured a light pink color. He couldn't help but stare at them. "You seem a little... on edge."

With a swallow, an attempt to bring moisture back to his throat, Spencer shook his head. "I'm... No, I'm sure. Everything's fine."

Y/N sighed. "Well, I've been working with you profilers for some time now, and... I think I can tell when you're lying. Was it... something I did?"

There she went again, her voice high and soft. Innocent. Like she was in character.

Spencer looked at her face again, and then immediately he regretted it. She was half pouting at him, doe-eyed and head tilted to expose her neck. He swallowed again, trying to figure her out while also figuring out what to say.

"No," is what he settled on, audibly nervous.

She could tell, too, because he thought he saw her smirk for just a split second. But then it was gone, replaced once again by her pout. "Oh... Good. Because I thought for a second that you didn't like my costume."

She obviously had to be up to something, right? Was she... flirting with him? And more importantly, did he want her to flirt with him? He'd never really thought about Y/N in that context before, but she was single, beautiful, and... well, truthfully that's all he really knew about her. They'd been friends for about a year now, and he couldn't put together one single thought about her other than the stuttering, muddled confusion over the fact that she was in a sexy Halloween costume and most likely openly flirting with him.

What was that Emily said once about his IQ dropping in the presence of a pretty woman?

Y/N had rendered him utterly thoughtless.

And speechless, too, apparently, because he stood there, staring at her without saying a single word.

"Spencer," she called out softly, almost like a lullaby. Her chair rolled back, away from the table to give him a better view of her legs as she un-crossed them and very slightly opened her knees. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

As if he wasn't already practically burning inside-out since the moment she arrived at the office, now his blood ran hot, and he was suddenly very uncomfortably warm. "U—Um, y—yes, you're... You're beautiful, y—your costume... It's nice, it looks nice on you."

Her pout slowly turned into a smile as she patted her knees. "Thank you... I wore it just for you, you know."

Is this some sort of bizarre dream? he wondered, his knees almost buckling at her words, their tone, and the meaning of it all.

"Y—You did?" he whispered brokenly.

"Mnmm," she drawled as her fingers toyed with themselves. "You teach, right?"

"Sometimes."

Y/N hummed and nodded, her legs still closed enough that he couldn't see anything... extra promiscuous. "You know, I bet you have quite a few students who find you attractive... Tell me, do any of them dress like this?"

She leaned back in the chair and started to run her hands slowly up the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. "Do they ever... Sit in the front row and... spread their legs just enough for you to see the pretty panties they picked out... just for you..."

By now her hands were resting on the inside of her thighs, her legs spread in exactly the way she'd described. He couldn't help himself. There she was, offering herself to him, and in his line of vision was the faintest glimpse of baby pink fabric that matched the color of her fingernails.

He didn't even know how to verbally respond. By now he was sure his face was beet red, and his palms were sweating so badly and struggling to keep him upright as he leaned forward on the table. Ah, the table— the only thing separating him from her, a fact which he wasn't quite sure if he was thankful for or not.

The spell she had around her broke when her phone rang. And just like that, it was like she was... herself again. At least, the 'herself' Spencer had always known. She sat up and walked over to the other side of the room to grab her phone from her bag, reading the screen as he struggled to catch his breath.

"It's Penelope. She has a costume emergency I have to help with. Are you good putting the rest of these up?"

"U—Um, yeah. Yeah, go."

Y/N smiled and grabbed her bag, thanking him as she walked past and left him behind.

He heard her call back as her figure was etching itself into his brain, ready to remain there until the end of time. "Can't wait to see your costume!"

***

Luke and Tara were having a conversation that he was supposed to be paying attention to, but Spencer's mind was still occupied by Y/N and her... outward display of sensuality.

Her voice was echoing in his brain, replaying over and over how she'd dressed up for him. And the longer he tried to wrap his brain around everything, the more he wound up confused. Where had her forwardness even come from? Had she been actively interested in him this whole time and he just hadn't seen it until now? A possibility, but why had she chosen to go to that extreme rather than just tell him the truth? Maybe she'd just found being overtly sexual an easier tactic than others?

Or maybe, in the end, she was just messing with him. Even though Derek had moved away, it was entirely possible that he'd somehow concocted one of his ridiculous pranks and roped Y/N into helping him since he wasn't around to do it himself. A smart move, though it was highly unlikely.

Spencer just didn't know what to do. Depending on how the rest of the night went, he was probably just going to have to muster up the courage to ask her what her intentions were. And depending on what she says, he was going to have to figure out what he wanted from their relationship... Did she want just sex? Did he want just sex? Did she want to go out with him? Is that something he would want as well?

He was just about to mull it over when Penelope's boisterous laugh sounded from the other side of the room. Spencer looked up, eager to see if Y/N was with her, since she'd been called away on a costume emergency. Penelope was dressed as a devil, red sparkly horns on her red-streaked, curled hair. She was dressed head-to-toe in a red dress and shoes that felt very much like her, with feathers and sequins, and her makeup was also red and black and absolutely glittery.

And sure enough, behind her stood the woman who'd been occupying Spencer's mind for the past hour and a half. Though, she wasn't dressed as a schoolgirl anymore.

He found himself swearing under his breath as he took her in, shimmering where she stood, dressed in all white.

She was an angel.

An actual angel. Her hair fell loose around her, accessorized with a headband with a golden halo attached to it. Her dress was still pretty form-fitting, though nowhere near as scandalous as her previous outfit. It was long and flowed out at the bottom until it hit the floor, a ring of gold at the hem. The sleeves were also long and bell-bottomed, accented with gold at the end.

And from where Spencer stood, even that far away, he noticed the glitter that surrounded her eyes, gold to compliment the color on her dress. Her lips were still bright red, and her glasses were gone. And the wings... As small as they were—most likely to keep from taking up too much space—they stood out in any crowd, purely white and outlined in gold, just like the rest of her outfit.

Why had she changed? Did... she actually change at all? Had he truly only imagined their encounter hours ago?

"Any... specific angels crossing your mind?" Spencer heard Luke say, punctuated with a pat on the shoulder.

He blinked and looked at him. "What?"

"Y/N... She makes a pretty good angel, eh?"

"Uh, yeah, I—I guess so."

Luke and Tara laughed, obviously amused by all of this. But they hadn't seen her earlier. They hadn't been there to witness her seducing him and acting like she'd done it a million times over. They didn't know what she was doing to him, inhabiting every corner of his brain and driving him mad trying to figure it all out.

But it wasn't uncommon for his friends to tease him about the female attention he got sometimes. And when it was obvious that he was flustered, they kept the friendly teasing going. And every time, he settled on leaving it alone, because he knew it would pass and he wouldn't have to worry about it again, at least until the next woman hit on him in public.

And Y/N? She worked with them. As long as she was in his head, he was afraid he'd never stop being flustered in her presence.

So he had to know. He had to talk to her and see what was going on, no matter how awkward it might get.

For now though, it was Halloween, and he was going to spend the night with his friends while doing the very rare amount of drinking and the more frequent amount of laughter.

The night didn't come without a few looks in Y/N's direction, though. She never came up to him directly, though a few times he'd catch her looking at him. And each time, she'd wave and continue on her merry way, laughing with Emily or doing some silly dance with Penelope in their coupling costumes.

Honestly, if earlier hadn't happened, he would have thought nothing of it. She was being completely normal. Happy, friendly... Simply Y/N, as he'd known her for the past year and a half.

He just finished saying goodbye to JJ, who was leaving early to go trick-or-treating with her kids, when she finally approached him. At the sight of her getting closer, her otherworldliness making his blood go warm again, he tried to compose himself. After all, there was no way she'd do anything sensual in public like this, right?

"I didn't get a chance to compliment you on your costume yet," she said brightly, her voice not carrying that higher tone from before. "You make a very believable zombie."

He looked down at his tattered clothes, a small laugh escaping him. "Thank you... It's no high-level makeup job, but I tried my best."

When he looked back up to her, the shimmer of her makeup basked her in a glow that made it incredibly hard to breathe. She really was pretty. Still sexy, of course, but in an understated way this time.

And he couldn't help but bring up the difference. "You... changed."

Something sparkled in her eyes then, giving them a devious glint that inherently contradicted her costume, and the mere implications of that made him tremble, especially as she said, "Mhm... I figured the schoolgirl costume was a little too inappropriate for the workplace. And besides... I did say I wore it just... for you..."

So he hadn't imagined the whole thing... On the one hand he was relieved to know he wasn't freaking out over something that hadn't actually happened. But... on the other, what did that leave him with?

It left him with a woman who was standing in front of him, dressed like an angel while giving him all sorts of devilish feelings.

Once again she'd rendered him speechless, though now his thoughts were filled with images of those pretty, glimmering eyes above him, watching as he worshipped her between her legs... Of her hands twisted in his hair as he showed her just how much he wanted her, to show her how beautiful she was.

Those thoughts were interrupted when she got closer, toying with a stray curl that stuck out from his head. She twirled it around her finger and looked up at him, doe-eyed again as she purred, "Happy Halloween, Doctor Reid."

She was gone too quickly, whisked away by the throes of an office holiday party that, one way or another, served as the beginning to a long, tempestuous affair.

***

In the weeks that followed, Spencer went about his days as normally as he could, focusing on work, and getting ready for another month of teaching, where he'd be away from his friends and, therefore, also away from Y/N.

It's not that he necessarily wanted to be away from her... Yet, after constant flirting with no direction other than his dreams filling with filthy images of the two of them together and no actual outlet for it, he figured a break would do him some good. Of course, he wasn't sure what would await him when he came back—if she'd forget about all of it and give up or if she'd come at him stronger than before.

It was his final day before leave, and so naturally, Y/N had to make it hard on him. He was sure that's what she was doing.

Since it was getting colder, she strayed away from skirts, though occasionally she would show up to work in a longer dress or a shirt that hugged her in all the right places, especially on the days that he would be working with her more. She had the BAU's schedules on hand always, so she had to be using that as a way to get to him.

On those days, she often used her higher pitch when she spoke to him, and her eyes were always adventurous— they wandered over every part of his body and sometimes quickly blinked away when he caught her, accompanying an embarrassed smile. (Though, Spencer was convinced she really was absolutely not embarrassed.)

Other times she pulled the "Oops, I dropped something," trick, and "You know, it's almost Winter but it's still so warm in here, don't you think?" followed by a stretch of her body as she slowly put her hair up or dragged it over her shoulder. 

His plan was to wait until he got back from leave, assess their situation from there after he'd cleared his head for a while, and then talk to her about what the hell was going on. Though the thought of confronting her scared him a little, he knew he couldn't let this go on any longer without some sort of conversation about what was next... What it all meant. It would drive him crazy otherwise.

With all the sensual, suggestive looks and actions she was throwing at him, though, it was a wonder he hadn't gotten to that point already.

As if she'd figured this out—because of course she would have found a way to get into his brain and know what he was thinking and feeling before he could even do so himself—Y/N stood by a storage closet with a clipboard. She pretended to write things down, when in reality she was looking up at him every so often, biting her lip and crossing her legs where she stood. She looked utterly desperate for something, almost like it was painful for her to be deprived of whatever it was she was looking for.

Spencer had a sneaking suspicion he knew what that was. And the thought sent a wave of electricity through his veins. All day she'd been going extra hard in attempts to catch his attention, and since it was his final day before leaving for a month, he knew that had to be the reason why.

If catching his attention was her goal, she'd definitely succeeded.

Across the room, and across a small sea of co-workers who were head-down, going through paperwork, he caught her eye and waited, his fingers twitching like they wanted to reach out to her. She tilted her head to the side and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, staring back at him like she was in a daydream.

And sure enough, she was standing underneath a light, one singular beam that sat atop her head like a halo and bathed her in a soft glow.

Even without the costume, she was an angel... For a moment Spencer wondered if maybe she'd planed on it all from the start— making her move by dressing like an angel on Halloween for one night and then finding any way on purpose to replicate that presence without actually dressing up again. Was it a way to mess with his head, to make him believe that she was calling to him? That she would... save him somehow?

He had to know what she was doing.

So he gave in and stood up, his eyes keeping contact with hers as he got closer and closer. Before he could get to her, though, she winked and then turned around, entering the storage closet and disappearing before his eyes. Still, he followed her, desperately hoping that's what she wanted.

And with a silent prayer that felt ironic as he thought it, Spencer opened the door and entered the adventure that awaited him. Whether it would be heavenly or otherwise he wasn't sure, but either way he was ready to confront it.

Y/N had turned on a desk lamp, its orange glow the only source of light in an otherwise pitch-black space. She leaned back against a table, still standing with her legs crossed over each other, hands bracing themselves on the tabletop. "How's it going, Doctor Reid?"

"What are you doing?" he asked, almost immediately after she greeted him. Now that he was alone with her, away from unassuming eyes, he exhaled and visibly showed his confusion through pleading eyes. "Please, I need to know what you're doing..."

He barely saw the contours of her face through dim lighting as she smiled. "What do you mean?"

"Y/N... Don't do that." He took a step closer, even though the quick beating of his heart signaled that it might have been a dangerous move. "Tell me..."

"Isn't it obvious?" she cooed, her hands coming out to toy with the hem of her frilly skirt.

As he looked down at it, he had to wonder if there really was a God out there, some higher being that sent this angel down to destroy him. How else did it stand to happen that even though it was nearing the end of November, the one day it was warm enough for Y/N not to freeze while wearing a skirt was the final day he had before leaving for a whole moth?—Before it was inevitably snowy and she wouldn't have the luxury to tease him with her skin?

She must have caught his lingering gaze on her legs, because she laughed softly, spreading them to stand a bit further apart while her fingers very lightly pushed the fabric of her skirt up. "I've been trying to get your attention ever since I got here... But you never seemed to notice. So I figured... Why not be a little more... forthcoming..."

"Y—You could have... said something," he whispered, forcing himself to look at her face. But as he was learning, he couldn't look at any part of her without his whole body going up in flames. 

By now she was walking closer to him, small, languid steps that perfectly showcased how her body could move. "Well... Truth is, I was scared... Every time I tried to talk to you, I got really nervous..." Her voice was demure, apologetic almost... Embarrassed. But it had to have just been part of the allure, right? Part of her show? "You're just so... intimidating."

Spencer swallowed, a small laugh coming from him as he tried not to collapse at her closeness. "I'm... I'm really not..."

But she laughed, finally close enough to reach out and grab his tie, which is what she did. She held the fabric in her hands for a few seconds before letting it drop, bringing her pointer finger to gently trace patterns on his chest. "Not in a mean way, silly... You're... incredibly smart, and you're good at your job... You're always so nice to everyone... And I bet you really know how to make a girl feel good..."

He found himself trembling under her touch again as she brought her hand down to meet his. She leaned up to nudge his chin with her nose as she moved his hand to the inside of her thigh. It was only the slightest of touches, nothing rushed or passionate about it. In fact, Y/N seemed more taken with the idea of using her touch to draw everything out— to make him pine for it, lose all semblance of sanity until he finally gave in and did whatever he wanted to her.

"Don't you wanna know what it feels like to touch me?" she whispered, her breath hot on his neck. Meanwhile her hand guided his own farther up her skirt, until he felt her skin getting warmer and warmer with each millimeter. His throat was dry, breath shaky as he fluttered his eyes closed and embraced the moment, embraced the guidance... "To feel how wet you make me?"

His heart practically leapt out of his chest once his hand was finally met with said wetness. Her panties were damp and oh so warm, and he couldn't stop the whine that left his throat as she pressed his fingers hard into her against the fabric. Her fingers covered his like a glove, guiding them in small circles over her clothed clit as she sighed into his neck.

"You feel that?" she asked, nuzzling into his skin. "That's what you do to me, Doctor.  From the moment I saw you, I knew you'd ruin me..."

He breathed a laugh then, finding it utterly ironic how that's how she felt. She could have just been toying with him, but there was enough longing and desperation in her voice to let him know she really meant it. She'd been waiting for him to come along and whisk her away...

So that's what he was going to do.

Spencer removed his hand from her then, walking them over to the table and pulling her right to him by gripping the waistband of her panties and keeping her still. The gasp she let out fueled him in a way that would have wrecked him if the job hadn't already been done. As he looked down at her, her body was basked in the soft orange luminescence of the desk lamp, a sight that aesthetically added to his desire and farther fueled the heat that had been accumulating in his veins, waiting to be released.

"Is that what you want, angel?" he breathed, the words even taking him by surprise. His sexual experience was far from non-existent, but it was limited enough that he'd never acted this feral before. Never had a partner ever had this strong of a hold on him, so tight that he found it a struggle to breathe. Add on the fact that he wanted to embrace that struggle if it meant being this way with her, and you had a man who was completely unraveling under the allure of one single woman until she ultimately brought forth his demise. "You want me to ruin you?"

Though he was giving in, like he assumed she wanted in the first place, Y/N hummed, tilting her head again and blinking up at him. "You know, I kinda like it when you call me angel..."

Spencer gripped the fabric tighter, and she whined. "Is it what you want?" In other words, Do you want this? 

Y/N nodded, and then he crashed his lips with hers as he tugged at her panties and let them drop to the floor in a pool around her feet. She flung her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself into him more, allowing his tongue to part her lips and explore her with liveliness. She was more than welcome to embracing it, verbally giving him praises in the form of whimpers and physical ones in the form of her hips rolling forward to get more friction.

As one of his hands found purchase under one of her thighs, he thought back to Halloween night, and how he'd imagined his head between her legs. The memory had his entire body tensing with pleasure, and without a second thought, he pulled away and dropped to his knees, looking up at her with what he hoped was the purest form of desire.

He looked up at her, admiring the way her face looked in the dim light, as he lifted one of her legs and placed it on his shoulder. Still keeping eye contact, he tilted his head and kissed the inside of her leg. But eventually he let his focus lean to immersing himself in her pleasure, tearing his eyes away from hers and completely shifting his head to face her leg. His lips trailed upwards, taking his time to remember the taste and the feel of her soft skin. 

The higher he got, the heavier her breathing became, and it wasn't long before he fully had his head under her skirt. She tried to move the fabric so she could see him, but he gripped her wrists and pinned them at her sides, eliciting a laugh from her that quickly turned into a whimper once he brushed his nose over where she ached for him.

Without being able to stop himself, Spencer inhaled, breathing her in and letting out a shaky breath as he inched closer and involuntarily closed his eyes, completely wrapped up in her like he'd never felt before. He was intoxicated by her, even more so when his mouth finally made contact with her dripping cunt.

Feeling her shudder above him was almost as heavenly as the way she tasted, sweet and bitter and oh so delectable. He'd never craved anything more than her in that moment, his tongue lapping her up and making a point to taste all of her. He explored and worshipped and praised her just how he'd imagined he would, though now that it was actually happening and he'd really had a taste of her, he wasn't sure he could ever go back.

Not that he wanted to. Especially as she whined and rolled her hips against his face, seeking more pleasure as she tried to be quiet in the closet.

Spencer, though he knew the importance of keeping it quiet right then, couldn't say he was the same way. Since his head was hiked up her skirt, and his sounds were muffled by her skin, he was as loud as he wanted to be, groaning into her and mumbling praises in between while catching his breath. He reveled in the feeling of her wetness coating the lower half of his face and the sounds that both pairs of her lips were providing. It truly was better than any symphony or choir he'd ever heard, and if he could spend the rest of his life down there, worshipping at her altar and giving her everything she desired, he would have.

But they were at work, and if they were gone too long, it would get suspicious.

So, as much as he wanted to draw out her pleasure—and by association, his own—he focused on getting her to her peak, flicking his tongue out over her clit and letting her hips rock forward to get her exactly where she wanted to be.

He knew she was about to come when she stopped whining and whimpering altogether, the leg she had draped over his shoulder curling and tightening around him to keep herself steady.

His tongue was relentless, keeping at what it was doing while Spencer imagined what her face must have looked like. Were her eyes rolling to the back of her head or were they squeezed tight? And her mouth— was it hanging open? Was her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she attempted to keep herself from yelling out? And as her hands struggled in his grasp, trying to escape most likely in favor of gripping his hair, he imagined them tied up above her head, attached to his bedframe as he took his time, drawing out every little sound she could have possibly made until she was just as unraveled as he was.

And then her grip loosened all around him, a whiny sigh escaping from her mouth, and Spencer reluctantly drew himself away from her. He dropped her leg from his shoulder and licked at his lips, tasting as much of her as he could before he had to return to work. And then, when he was moving to remove his head from under her skirt, he caught sight of her panties on the ground, picking them up and sliding the garment lightly up along her leg as he stood.

The only thing was, he wasn't putting them back on her.

No, they hung loose between his fingers as they tickled the inside of her legs, and when he finally stood tall enough to tower over her again, he got as close as he could to her, bringing the fabric up between her legs, right where he'd just been, and pressed them firmly to her sensitive pussy.

"Time to clean you up, angel," he whispered, swiping his hand forward and doing exactly that. Y/N whined against his mouth, faintly tasting herself on his lips as he cleaned her.

He kissed her then, gently, removing his hand from under her skirt and depositing the damp fabric right into his pocket.

If Spencer hadn't known already that he was done for, he would have figured it out right then, when he pulled back far enough to see the high, blissed out look in her pretty eyes. She blinked at him and sighed, telling him one final thing before she pushed past him and walked out into the office with no underwear and half-wobbly legs.

"I miss you already, Doctor..."

***

He missed her, too.

The month-long leave was supposed to assist in letting him clear his head, but the longer he was away from her, the more it drove him mad. Occasionally he'd still taste the sweet tanginess of her on his tongue, and no amount of coffee could rinse it out. Sometimes he'd be grading papers and daydream about hearing her whimper out his name as he took care of her.

It didn't help that she also sent him texts, little things that would have sounded innocent to anyone else but had a way more promiscuous meaning to the both of them. They mostly involved the discussion of angels, of course, as she left him with a quote or a song lyric, and other days with a fact about a specific angel.

Today, the morning before classes started, she sent him, She's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see... Spencer didn't know what it meant, what it was referencing, but it was innocent enough that he didn't think anything of it until lunch rolled around and he checked his phone to see another text.

...When it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets.

He couldn't stop thinking about it. All day, even as he was trying to distract himself by lecturing, all he could see in his mind was Y/N. Sometimes with her angel costume on, but mostly with nothing on, her body fitting into his like a puzzle piece as she sighed out his name like a prayer.

And to think, he had one more week until he would see her again.

But then he was looking through his students' quizzes, small sheets of paper with some terminology and matching definitions they needed to pair together. Since there were only about five minutes left until the class was over, he let his students spend the rest of the time how they chose, not really in the mood to burn himself out speaking when he knew it was only a matter of time before he slipped and said something about Y/N that he shouldn't.

The next quiz he grabbed was folded in half, unusual, but he opened it and was looking to go about his merry way regardless. But then he saw a post-it note right in the middle of the paper, reading She's an angel, my only angel, and punctuated with a pair of red lips.

The first thing he did was drop the pen that was in his hand. Not like he did it on purpose, though, he was pretty sure all joint and muscle function was lost upon reading the handwriting he knew so well, and a reference that only she could make.

And then he looked up, eyes scanning the sea of students to find her. She had to have been there, right? A few of the students found it odd that he was just looking through all of them, but all he was worried about was finding her.

And there she was.

Y/N had tucked herself all the way in the back, her eyes locked directly onto him. She winked then, when she knew she had his attention, and all Spencer could think about was how it must have been another dream. Her texts from earlier had gotten to him more than usual, and because of it, he was seeing her everywhere, seeing what he wanted to see.

Even though he wanted to keep looking at her, to try and figure out if she was really there or if she was just a figment of his devilish mind, he didn't want anyone to catch him. To anyone else it would look like he might have been staring at another student, and with the lust he knew was definitely swimming in them, the last thing he wanted to do was get in trouble like that.

So, to his dismay and reluctance, he slipped the note into the drawer beside him and quietly finished grading, even though he was longing to see how else he could let Y/N destroy him.

Even as the bell rang and everyone filtered out, Spencer kept his head low, refusing to look up until everyone was gone and only one person remained.

The quieter it got, the harder he could feel his heart beating. And then the only thing that cut through the silence was that unmistakable, angelic high pitch that would surely never fail to bring him to his knees.

"Did you get my note, Doctor?"

Only then did he allow himself to look up, and when he did, seeing her closer to him than she'd been in almost a month now, it was like the stars aligned. "Yes," he whispered, getting out of his seat and walking around the desk to be as close to her as possible.

She laughed and met him in the middle, nearly trapping him between herself and the desk. Her hands reached out to grab at his suit jacket and he wished that she'd touch him somewhere else. Anywhere else, just to feel the soft warmth of her skin.

"And my texts?" she cooed, taking another step and actually trapping him between her body and his desk.

"Y—Yeah, I got them."

"Oh, good. I've been thinking a lot about how you left me..." She slid her hands then, under his jacket and across his stomach until they reached his waist. "The second I got in my car to go home, you were already on your way here... And I couldn't help but wonder what you were doing with my panties..."

They were currently back in his hotel room, in the drawer and laying atop of his own clothes, a vision that had him reeling, wondering if she was wearing any now. So he asked. "Are... Um..."

Well, he tried to ask, anyway.

Y/N caught on, though, beaming at him as her hands removed herself from him and slipped up her skirt. "You wanna see the pair I'm wearing now?"

"Y/N... There's... Someone could come in, I..."

She clucked her tongue. "Oh, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble, don't worry. I'll just... Give you a quick peek."

She didn't wait for him to respond, lifting the hem of the skirt and stepping back so he could see the front of her underwear, which were white and printed with black cursive lettering.

Angel.

As soon as he exhaled, loud and obviously very turned on at the sight in front of him, she dropped the skirt and smiled. "You like them? I needed to buy a new pair since you felt the need to steal my others..."

Spencer really didn't know what to say. All he knew was that his body was on fire, and the tightening of his pants was extremely dangerous since he had another class in a half hour and there wasn't enough time to take care of it unless they did something right now. And even then, they were in a public area with hardly anywhere to go. His best bet would be to go to the bathroom and be as inconspicuous as possible to take care of it himself. Or, Y/N needed to leave immediately so he could settle down and just let it go away on its own.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have a hard time denying her of anything.

Which was why he didn't stop her when she sunk to her knees.

As she undid his belt, looking up at him  with sparkling eyes, she spoke to him. "Honestly, I had every intention to just make out with you a little, just enough to satiate myself until I can see you again next week, but... Well, I'm wearing lipstick, and I wouldn't want to embarrass you."

He'd made out with a woman before, who'd worn lipstick, and surprisingly it was pretty easy to remove, so he knew she had to have been lying as some part of a bigger scheme, but... he couldn't quite figure out what that was. Obviously she had plans to take care of his erection for him, so why make up the story?

But then she kept talking, only slightly pulling down his pants and palming him through his underwear. "And then I thought about how pretty you'd look covered in lipstick kisses, and, well... It's always good to start somewhere, don't you think?"

Oh...

His stomach did flips when she traced his dick through the fabric covering it, gently with her middle finger. And then, looking into his eyes from below, she pulled it out and slowly stroked it with her hand, a low hum coming from her throat. "Mmm, I can't wait to mark up this pretty cock..."

That's when he lost all semblance of control, a strained groan falling from his lips, coming from the great depths of his chest, just from her words alone. And she took that moment to lean forward and press the gentlest of kisses to the base of his dick. She held her lips there for a second or wo before removing them and moving just a little higher, her eyes never leaving his face.

Her kisses trailed higher and higher, centimeter by centimeter until she reached his tip, where she ever so slightly flicked her tongue over the slit at the top, tasting his precum. And then gave him one final kiss—one final red mark.

The temptation to grab her hair and hold her there while he fucked her throat was strong, but as he looked down at her, she was examining her handiwork with a seductive hunger that made him realize that no matter how strong his urges got, she would always be the one in charge. Even if she acted all innocent and submissive, she was the one who held the key to his sexual desires, and therefore she was the only one who had the ability to unlock them.

So, he contained himself as she looked up at him, winked, and quickly tucked his hard dick back into the confines of his pants.

And when she stood up, she leaned up to his cheek and pressed another kiss there, leaving behind a red mark and all all his sanity with it, quickly turning away before he could catch her.

"See you later, Doctor," she called over her shoulder before she disappeared out the door.

Spencer let out a long, unsteady breath, debating on whether or not he should take care of his situation in the bathroom or right there in the classroom, behind his desk and into the trash can underneath it while he still had ample time to do so.

He sat in the chair about a minute later, his hand moving furiously under the desk as he breathed out hushed whispers of her name.

***

No matter how badly he wanted more alcohol in his system, he wasn't going to allow it. After one drink he was already starting to feel the affects, veins buzzing right along with the low hum of the music from inside. The single streetlight above him provided only the dimmest of lights as he took deep breaths in and out, focusing on the bitter cold from the December air and the soft pelting of snowflakes upon the skin of his cheeks.

Y/N's touch still burned him, right along his inner thigh where her hand had firmly rested while they and the rest of their friends ate dinner at the bar. All night so far, she'd been teasing him to no end, whether it was a brush of her hand against his crotch or a tiny kiss on the shoulder when no one was looking.

How no one had figured them out yet was a mystery.

Spencer rubbed his hands together, trying to keep them warm when he felt it. She was behind him.

"You've been out here for a while, Spence, is everything okay?" Even when she wasn't speaking to him in her angelic higher pitch, he still felt like succumbing to the sound her voice regardless.

He turned around to face her, and sighed. It figured that even surrounded by a street that was covered in brown-tainted snow, she wouldn't have let it taint her beauty. He was convinced that no matter where she was or what she looked like, she'd always be perfect— capable of knocking the breath out of him every time he looked at her. "Honestly, you've been driving me crazy."

"Oh," she said, her eyes slightly shifting to the ground. "Maybe I... did take it too far, I... I'm sorry." The slight tinge of embarrassment and maybe regret that filtered through her voice nearly ran him to the ground— How could she ever believe that he would feel overwhelmed by her? Sure, to some extent, he was extremely overwhelmed by her, but it was never a negative thing.

"Oh, angel, that's not what I meant," he explained softly, taking a few steps towards her.

She lifted her head, eyes doe-eyed and sparkling, though not as they usually were. This time they were swimming in a softness that made him yearn for her even more. "What?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm absolutely mesmerized by you... Y/N..." Spencer brought a hand to lightly caress her face, and when she leaned into his touch it made him so warm he thought it would melt all of the snow. "I can't get you out of my head, and I... I don't know if I ever want to. I mean that."

"Y—You're not... weirded out or anything?" she asked softly. "That I just... sprung all my feelings and my lust out onto you all at once? B—Because I know it was sudden, and I came on really strong so fast, I just... I thought you liked it, and so I just kept going, but really I should have stopped and... I don't know, asked if you were okay with it..."

He'd seen this softness in her before— When she watched over JJ's kids in the office sometimes, and when she helped Penelope set the table for their 'family dinners'. Every time, on the rare occasion that she actually went on cases with them, when she helped JJ comfort the families who'd lost their loved ones, he saw it. And even through all the lust, that sweetness in her soul was what truly made her an angel. Even though the lust is all he'd been swimming in since Halloween, deep down he really knew that it was only a small part of who she really was.

So, he said to her, "Y/N, I'm enchanted by all of you. I don't... I don't know what happened to make you want to come on strong to me, but... I'm glad you did. Believe me when I say, there is nothing about you that would scare me away."

He didn't know how she was feeling, but she practically visibly melted at his words, right in front of him. "You really mean that?"

With a smile, Spencer stepped even closer and brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. "Of course I mean it, my angel."

She laughed then, her hands wrapping themselves over his waist. "Your angel, huh?"

"Mhm... If you'd like to be..."

Y/N leaned up and pressed her lips to his in answer, firmly and with all the sweetness she had nestled inside her soul.

But the longer they stood there outside the bar, kisses growing warmer and hungrier with each passing second, Spencer realized that he didn't want her sweetness any longer, not tonight anyway. He cradled her face in his hands, feeling the fire in his veins come alive when she whined into his mouth and willed herself closer.

Before he could say fuck it and decide to take her right there outside, he pulled away, still needing her but not entirely willing to get themselves caught for public indecency.

Y/N spoke before he got a chance to, her higher pitch coming back and almost bringing him to his knees.

"What do you say you take your angel home and show her a good time?"

***

She didn't even get a chance to close the door to his apartment before he was on her, his hands tugging at her coat to get it off.

It was a frenzy, at least while they were stripping. Jackets and boots and scarves were strewn across the entryway and leading into the living room, until each of them only had two layers: their regular clothes and what they wore underneath. And that's when they finally allowed themselves the luxury of wrapping their limbs around each other.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he grabbed ahold of her ass to keep her steady. For added support, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him the whole way to his bedroom, but not without a few stumbles. Either way, they were so quite literally wrapped up in each other that the imperfections didn't matter.

Like she could ever come with imperfections... Spencer thought as he set her down, immediately bringing his hands to the back of her dress.

Meanwhile she unbuttoned his shirt, fumbling around so much that he thought she might choose to rip it open, and selfishly he wished she would have. But she got it open without tearing any buttons, and the fabric slid easily off his shoulders at the same time her dress slid off her own.

He was going to kiss her again, but once he caught a glimpse of what she'd been hiding under her dress, there was nothing he could physically do but rake his eyes over her figure and pray for forgiveness for all the devilish things he wanted to do to her.

It was a white set, all lace that was detailed to look like feathers as it hugged every curve of her body perfectly. She wore a set of garters that attached to the panties, which he was pretty sure were crotch-less and outlined in a pretty gold shimmer.

"I knew you'd like it," Y/N drawled sweetly. The pure innocence that dripped from her tongue would have thoroughly wrecked him had her appearance already not taken care of that. And she seemed to understand how immobile he'd become at the sight of her, because she moved of her own accord, gliding over to him and reaching her hand out to undo his belt. "I'm gonna take your silence as a good sign..."

"You're stunning," he breathed, just barely, and she gave him a smile through softly biting her bottom lip.

"You're too good to me..." Her hands pushed down his loosened slacks and waited until they fell to the floor. And then she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his underwear and leaned into his neck. "And I think your kindness deserves a reward..."

Her lips gently pressed to his neck before she dropped to her knees once again, and as she descended, her hands and his underwear did the same, leaving him completely bare and open for her to do whatever she wanted. No matter how badly he longed to throw her on the bed and get to showing her just how much she'd inhabited his every fiber of being, he didn't dare stop her as her tongue darted out and licked a featherlight line along the length of his hard cock.

He let out a sigh and twitched at her touch, a feat that must have pleased her, because she smiled and hummed happily as she repeated her action. Only, this time her tongue was more firm on him— not teasing anymore, but it brought him to damnation all the same.

And then she fully wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, slowly gliding herself down until he hit the back of her throat.

The sound he made was inhuman.

She wasted no time then, bobbing her head at a steady rhythm and moaning around him as she did so. It didn't take long for saliva to start gathering above her chin and dripping down onto the exposed area of her breasts, just above her bra. Occasionally she would hold him at the back of her throat and choke as she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and the sight of his little angel happily crying with his dick in her mouth sent Spencer into a tailspin.

But as tempting as it was to paint the back of her throat white, he knew he'd prefer to take that action to a more interesting place. So he pulled away from her and breathed out, "Please, not yet..."

He looked down at her as she smiled, wetness coating her skin in the form of tears on cheeks and saliva on breasts. Her hands rested at the tops of her thighs, even as she stood up and blinked a final stream of tears down her left cheek. "Why, is there somewhere else you'd rather fill me up?"

"Please," was all he said, his breathing labored as he imagined what she would feel like.

Thankfully she seemed to take mercy on him— Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bed, where she laid him down at the headboard and straddled his thighs. "As much as I love spreading my legs for you, I think I'd much rather take a ride..."

"Anything you want," he told her, his eyes traveling up the length of her body as she got comfortable. She was, in fact, wearing crotch-less panties, and the feeling that coursed through him at the sight of her glistening pussy in decent lighting (AKA when he wasn't under her skirt in a storage closet) sent him straight to Hell all over again.

He sighed out as she played with herself, gliding her fingers delicately along the planes of her body, from her thighs to her clit, and eventually she gripped his dick to line it up, lifting her hips above him.

"Are you ready?" she asked gently, rolling her hips to slick him up with her arousal.

"Always ready for you, angel..."

The pet name sprung her into action. She sunk down slowly onto him, and he willed his eyes to stay open so he could watch as her mouth dropped open, eyes rolling back into her head as she moaned out deliciously. He let out a groan himself, the feeling of her tightly wrapping around him like velvet almost too much to handle.

"Ohhh, you fill me up so good," Y/N sighed, gently grinding her hips in slow circles as she finally had all of him inside her. "Just like I knew you would..."

Everything she was doing, between the gradual increase of the speed at which her hips rolled and the way she looked down at him with pure desire, had Spencer wondering what he'd ever done without her. What had he known before knowing the feeling of her nails gently digging into the skin of his stomach as she rode him, before knowing the sound of his name falling from her lips in a whisper? It couldn't have been anything good, because as far as he was concerned, she was as good as it would ever get.

But at some point it felt like he needed to take more. She was giving him her body, offering it to him like the most precious gift she had to offer, and yet he wanted to tear into it and leave nothing behind except her voice, calling out his name into the heavens above. He longed to give her something in return, something that would leave her just as ruined as she'd left him.

And, as always, she could tell.

Y/N laughed seductively as she leaned down, her hips still rocking into his. Her lips pressed a gentle kiss to his before she spoke. "Everything alright, baby?"

All he could do was let out a broken moan as she clenched around him on every upstroke.

"Aww... You want more? Huh, you wanna lay me down and give it to me good? Show your little angel what it feels like to be fucked so good she can't even speak?"

"Don't... tempt me," he was finally able to choke out, and she laughed.

"Aww, come on... Show me what you got..."

Spencer wasn't sure when he actually did it, but one second she was nipping at his bottom lip, challenging him to take control, and the next he was on top of her, her legs spread as wide as they could possibly get as he rocked his hips into her at a deep, bruising force.

She laughed amusedly through whimpers of pleasure, her hands spreading out at her sides like wings as he gave her everything he had. Looking down at her, head thrown back and hair fanned around her head like some sort of angelic crown, he soaked it all in and wondered if this was what Heaven was— the feeling of her succumbing to his lust, the sight of her lost in the throes of weeks of pent-up sexual tension that never entirely got released, the sound of her near-incoherently whining at how good he was...

If it wasn't Heaven, it was surely something pretty damn close.

He was almost there, tension stretching out inside the pit of his stomach, when Y/N grabbed one of his hands and brought it to her lower belly. He felt himself slamming into her at full force every time, the small bump against his hand bringing him further along the road of release.

"You feel that?" she whined, keeping his hand there. "You know what that means, don't you?"

It could have meant a lot of things, but his brain was too far gone, lost in in the fog of pleasure to even begin to think about what it was. But then she answered for him, and it was just about the hottest thing he'd ever heard come from her mouth.

"It means I'm all yours... to do whatever you want with... to fill me up with your cum as much as you want... maybe turn your little angel into a mommy..."

With a loud, guttural groan, Spencer held himself still, deep inside her, and gave her every last drop, his hand remained pressed firmly to her stomach. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost feel his cum spilling out and filling her to the brim through the barrier. She pulsed and came around him at the same time, warmth spreading between the two of them like a drop of water would soak through fabric, until it completely enveloped them like a heavy blanket.

And then they'd given everything, their bodies clinging to each other for dear life as they settled into the gentle aftermath of such a heavy feeling of ardor. Their breaths slowed and their lips explored each other tenderly, hands doing the same until, finally, they felt themselves drifting off.

***

Spencer dreamt of Heaven that night, glimpses of a future he'd always longed for with other people, but that he would get to spend with her.

A wedding dress, white, but haloed by a gold fog as the woman wearing it glided along the aisle and made her way to him.

A house, small, but fenced in and just perfect enough for the two of them and the baby that was on the way.

A picnic table, damp, but drying out in the sun as it gradually became littered with plates of birthday cake and a little candle that was shaped into the number 3.

A woman, old, but beaming as she showed a photo album to her multitudes of grandchildren, telling them stories about the wonderful life she lived with her husband who always called her Angel.

And when he woke up, seeing that old woman as she was now, sleeping in his bed as the sun beamed through the curtains and basked her in a heavenly light, he knew what Heaven really was.

It was her.

PERMANENT TAGLIST: 

@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9

ADDITIONAL TAGS: @xoxomgg

TAGS NOT WORKING: @takeyourleap-of-faith

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get to it!

[benevolentcalamity]

Be Our Guest

So uh.

This is a thing. That I am doing.

Anyway.

Alcina Dimitrescu x Female! Listener

Just so we’re clear this is too long to get to much so this’ll have a smut chapter next time. Just FYI. This is just implied smut but nothing happens, so enjoy.

Enjoy you stunning pomegranates

“Mother, I found her first - I should taste her blood!”

“No, me, I’m the one that said she was pretty!”

“Daughters, please. There’s plenty to go around, so don’t lose your heads.”

Through the throbbing pulsations in your head, you pry your eyes open enough to peer through your lashes. Three black clothed figures are in a perfect line, bickering amongst themselves until the towering white behind them reprimands them, patting them on their heads. It pushes through them, approaching you, until you can make out the figure.

A woman, undeniably tall, dressed elegantly in a white gown and hat, black gloved fingers fiddling with the cigarette holder with almost disturbing dexterity. Her red-painted lips stretch into an amused grin too big for her face, clearly noticing you rousing from unconsciousness. Kneeling, she reaches for you, patting your cheek.

“Wake up.” Her voice is more playful, like a mother ready to torture you with a day full of work. “Come now, wake up.”

Her patting grows harsher, and you blink a few times until she’s clear. By instinct you put your hand up in defense, and she backs away, her only objective having really been to wake you. Turning a bit to cough into your fist, you push down on the floor to sit upright, rubbing your eyes.

“She looked cuter passed out,” One of the black trio pouts, prompting one of the others to shush her.

The tall woman’s hand extends toward you, beckoning you. More confused than afraid, you take it, and she pulls - more like yanks - you to your feet. You feel a bit wobbly and maybe cold; a reminder that you are in fact alive, and here you are. 

“Name?”

You blink, wrenching your attention from your momentary hunger pangs back to the woman. “E-excuse me, ma’am?”

 “What is your name?”

Swallowing, you interlock your fingers to stop them from shaking. “[Name]. [Name] [Last Name].”

She nods. “Well met.” Almost flamboyantly, she puts her cigarette hand to her chest. “Alcina Dimitrescu - but you may address me as ‘Madam,’ ‘Ma’am,’ or ‘My Lady,’ understood?”

“Yes.” You don’t know what to do.

“... Well don’t stand there pouting, daughters, introduce yourselves.”

With visible glee, the black haired girl steps forward, giving you a somewhat snobbish grin through red-stained teeth. “Cassandra,” She sings, bowing her head.

Then the redhead. “Daniela.” Her smile is more... seductive, but one that signals to you her type of seduction isn’t the kind you’d want.

The blonde is last, her smile a Cheshire cat grin - one that simply says ‘danger’. Nothing more, nothing less. “Bela.”

“Good daughters.” Lady Dimitrescu grins in satisfaction, putting her hands on her hips. “Now, the moment we’ve waited for.” She then raises her hands, snapping her fingers. 

“Yes, Mother!”

Cassandra and Daniela move to either of your sides, gripping your arms. They’re too strong to fight against, rendering you motionless in seconds. On your right, Daniella flashes you a smile, before gripping your wrist and slicing your palm with a curved blade.

You cry out, prompting her to move her lips to your ear. “Shhh... Plenty of time for screaming,” She purrs, stretching your arm out as Lady Dimitrescu approaches.

Wrenching your wrist from Daniela’s fingers, she leans down, pausing for a moment before dragging her tongue across your wound. Almost ravenously she does a few more strokes, sucking on it to get as much blood as she can. Fear and confusion bring nausea at the sight - you swallow whatever vomit threatens to wrench itself from you.

She pauses again, eyebrows raising, before her lips open into a red-stained grin as she stands straight.

“Sweet and succulent!” She declares, prompting the trio to close in on you more, holding onto your arm and partaking as well. “Now, now, daughters, we mustn’t be so hasty. This is just too good to disappear into the cellar.”

“String her up!” Bela grins. “Store her and we’ll drink from her when we wish!”

Daniela’s arm goes around your waist, her free hand holding your chin. “But she’s so cute - would it be fair to treat her like a pig?” “What do you say, Mother?” Cassandra asks.

With a quick onceover of you - why that includes an elevator look at you you’ve no idea - Lady Dimitrescu takes a drag from her cigarette, blowing a smoke ring toward your head. “Whether this girl has somewhere to go from here, it doesn’t matter,” She hums. “Her blood is some of the best we’ve had in a good while - she’s worth keeping alive.”

You swallow, Bela and Cassandra backing from you, Daniela moving behind you to keep cuddling you. “As of right now, she is a guest in our home,” Lady Dimitrescu continues. “I will deliberate as to what to do with her; Mother Miranda won’t need to know so long as she’s not making trouble. Daniela, show little [Name] where she’ll be staying.”

“Yes, Mother.” Daniella grips your arm, thrusting you outward as if dancing with you, before wrenching you back to her. With a sultry giggle she lifts you bridal-style into her arms, the other two waving at you as you’re sped away as though flying on a magical carpet.

It’s a smooth ride, one that’d easily repeatedly trick you into thinking you’re gliding instead of being carried, but a glance at Daniela’s grinning face reminds you that you’re indeed welcome - you’re not home.

A second passes, and she stops, putting you down onto your feet. However, her arms wind back around you, but around your shoulders, leaving you at the mercy of her teeth.

“Here we are!” She giggles, throwing her arm out, inviting you to look around the room. It’s large and... definitely more Versailles than any you’ve seen, but comfortable had it not been for the fact you’re here with women that could spell your demise.

Releasing you from her hold, Daniela circles in front of you, flashing you a smile alongside a tilt of her head. “I hope you enjoy your stay. And if there’s anything we can do to make your stay more...” She pauses for effect, running the blunt edge of her blade down your face. The cold steel freezes your spine, and your palms grow clammy. “Don’t hesitate to ask.”

She replaces the touch of her blade with her hand, forcing you to look in her eyes. “And I’m warning you~” She sings, “You’d better not do anything to make Mother regret her well-placed mercy. You understand me, little one?”

Quivering, you nod. “I-I understand.”

Her smile grows to show her teeth, and her blade snakes around the back of your neck, forcing you to lean forward to avoid being cut. Mischievous, she leans forward as fell, planting a kiss on your cheek before retreating, dispersing into locust-like insects before leaving, the door somehow closing when the swarm leaves.

Stepping away from the door, your lips purse and release with emotions and sounds that crash against each other, creating a practical thunderstorm in your chest. Everything’s still spinning a bit; your head still has a nasty bump from when some smelly hairy man with a hammer jumped you in the village. Your brain’s foggy, but your memories are still intact. How long, though, is the question.

Deciding to examine the room, you walk around, taking your shoes off and holding them to avoid staining the rug. The first thing you notice is the vanity, gilded and polished to perfection. Sitting down in front of it, you comb your fingers through your hair, more to calm yourself down than anything. Eventually, your hands fall still in your lap, and you stare into the eyes of a girl powerless to stop whatever will happen to her in this castle.

Dread slowly twists your stomach, and you stand, meandering to the window. The snow falls swiftly, nearly obscuring the view; a telltale sign a snowstorm is brewing. No sense in trying to escape and risking frostbite.

“I guess... I just wait now,” you mutter.

Helpless, you head over to the bed. Shedding your coat, you fold it neatly and put it on the nightstand, crawling into the layers of blankets. It smells like linen that, though clean, hasn’t been touched in years, not even by the faintest speck of dust. What’s there instead is an oddly comforting aroma, like grandma’s house but if she were rich.

Reaching into your pocket, you tug out your phone. No signal.

You’re isolated, locked away, with no one knowing where you are.

The knowledge brings tears to your eyes, hanging over you as you tug the covers over your head, eventually curling up and drifting softly to sleep.

___

What rouses you from sleep isn’t your alarm clock as you’d have hoped, nor is it the chirp of the birds or your phone ringing asking where you’ve been. Rather, it’s your nose being, for lack of a better word, jiggled. Someone or something is poking the tip and wiggling it in circles.

Jerking your head a bit, you swat with your hand, opting to cover your nose, furrowing your brows.

Then a hand grips your wrist, and your eyes open. With black hovering above you, you’re thrown into perfect alertness, the red hair skirting over your cheek sending your palms down as you attempt to sit up properly.

Daniela grins maliciously at your reaction, licking her lips. “Mother needs you.” 

As she says that, a swarm of bugs burst through the door, clouding around you for a moment. Their buzzing almost seems to mimic your cries, some landing on you to wrench more screaming from you, before they pull away from you, concentrating at the foot of the bed, eventually forming Cassandra, Bela eventually sauntering in as well.

“Y-Your mother’s asking for me?” You near-squawk.

Cassandra snorts. “Of course. What else?” She asks. “Mother really likes you. Now, upright.”

You’re so spooked by the intrusion and the presence of all three sisters that you hurriedly slide away from Daniela and onto the floor, sliding into your shoes. Swallowing, you jolt at the sisters approaching you, a bead of sweat falling from your brow when their hands raise.

“Oh shit.”

They each grip you with both hands, suddenly turning into insects aside from them and holding you in the air, and just like with only Daniela you’re gliding. Only this time, you’re screaming horrendously, but the sound is so drowned out by the triplets’ sadistic giggling you’re unsure you’re making a sound. One hand crawls up your leg, causing you to squirm, and for a moment their faces materialize just so you can see them laugh at you for a moment.

Through sharp turns and whatever else, you’re eventually unceremoniously tossed to your feet, standing in front of a door. Whirling around, the girls materialize again, waving at you before dispersing into their swarms, swirling around you to make you squeal before flying off, likely to get to their own duties. Biting your lip, you turn back around, raising your hand to knock on the door.

“Enter,” Lady Dimitrescu’s voice calls. As you do, she continues, “Very good. At last, someone else around here with any sort of dignity and manners.”

“You... wanted to see me?” You ask, closing the door behind you.

“Sit.”

Peeking, you note the bench near the vanity where she’s sitting, avoiding eye contact with her reflection as it applies overwhelmingly red lipstick. Softly, you sit down in it, folding your hands on your knees.

“As you’re most definitely aware, I’ve had a discussion with my daughters as to what to do with you, and I’ve come to understand you’re certain to meet a grizzly demise if you attempt to leave this place.” The calm in her voice and the way she momentarily looks at you through the mirror twists your stomach. “... Ah. Dear girl, your heartbeat - I can hear it. It’s music to my ears.”

Pausing, she wipes some stray lipstick from the corner of her lips. From here, she looks normal sized, but you’re a good stretch from her. Swallowing, you try your best to remain composed. With no one coming to save you or even knowing you’re here, your best hope of survival is appealing to this giant of a woman.

“My daughters and I both adore you - and I mean adore you.” At first she cranes her neck, but then decides to turn her chair around, gesturing at you with her lipstick. “Look at you, my dear! Delicious blood, yes, but such pretty looks - it’d be a waste to just toss you down into the cellar.”

“So... what are you going to do to me?”

She throws her head back to laugh. “To you, the four of us can agree anything’s possible. With you, the decision itself is clear.” Her smile falls into a straight, business-y line, and you gulp. “You’ll become a resident of my castle, and you will not die a horrible, painful death.”

Relief at not dying washes over you, but then she stands and approaches you in what feels like a blink, and you flinch.

“However.” She uses a gloved hand to lift your chin. “You are not to leave, disobey, and you will repay us by allowing us to drink your blood. That is our condition. If you decide you don’t want to stay, then out of the good of my heart, I can promise you right now that your death in this room will be quick and painless.”

Your face grows cold. So you can be a personal bloodbag for all four denizens of the castle, or you can die. Splendid.

“Think about it. No one’s going to live to even see your face if they try to save you, and you’ll have the pleasure of being in my care as opposed to that fool Heisenberg,” She hums along with a chuckle deep in her bosom. “And if you want my personal opinion, you’d be far better off.”

Do you really have an option? “... O-Okay. I’ll stay in the castle.”

Her face brightens with that signature smile. “Ah, good girl!” She leans down and her hand reaches to pat your cheek. “We’ll find ways to take your blood that won’t leave scars, don’t you worry.”

Ring! Ring!

With a roll of her eyes, she straightens up. “As if there’s any more ways to take up my time...” She beckons you to follow as she returns to her vanity, and you awkwardly stand at her side as she sits back down, picking up the phone.

A moment passes, and she composes herself. “Mother Miranda, I regret to inform you that something unexpected has happened, and I’ll be a bit late for the meeting.” Glancing at you, she beckons you again, scrunching up her nose at your confusion. Lifting her free hand, she pats her lap twice, and beckons you again.

You blink. Does she want me to sit in her lap or something?

“Are you... asking me to sit?” You ask, and she nods. As you begin the motion she guides you the rest of the way with her hand around your arm, and you awkwardly shuffle so you’re comfortable.

Through her dress and your clothes, she’s cool to the touch, but not to imply she’s a walking corpse or something. Glancing at her reflection, she gives you an almost cheeky smirk as she adjusts her arm to keep you balanced.

“No, Mother Miranda.” Who is...? “Yes, of course, I understand the importance of this meeting. This will take me about fifteen minutes at most... Yes, Mother Miranda, I swear.” Then she nods, her hat gracing your forehead. “Very well.”

Then she hangs up the phone, letting out an exasperated huff. “So demanding.” And with no effort at all, she lifts you below your arms and stands, putting you on your feet like a toddler, patting your head. “You’ll have the pleasure of dining with us tonight. Since she seems to like you so much, Daniela will be responsible for ensuring you know where to go and what to do.”

Trying not to protest or show nervousness, you nod, to which she gives a satisfied upward nod.

“Now then, you’re grown enough to remember where your room is, yes? But feel free to explore the castle - but allow me to warn you, the cellar is off-limits. Do you understand?”

You nod. “I-I understand, Madam.”

“Very good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to. When I return, I expect you’ll be well accustomed to the castle.” She flashes you a smile, her hip gracing your shoulder as she passes you. “And [Name]?”

You turn to face her, some sweat dripping down your neck. “Yes, Madam?”

Her eyes narrow, but her smile doesn’t drop; a look that says you’re in for something when she returns. “Enjoy your stay.”

Then she leaves, and the door shuts behind her, leaving you to listen to the sound of her footsteps fading away. Swallowing, you meander towards the door yourself, pushing it open.

And just as you do, the buzz of the insect swarms fill the air, and you clench your fists to stay calm even as the sisters materialize. With playful yet sinister smiles, they approach you, with Daniela going behind you to hug you just like before.

“Mother’s left for her meeting,” Cassandra points out.

A crazed look in her eye, Bela reaches and pokes your face. “I haven’t cut open a pretty girl in a while!”

“No, no~!” Daniela near-whines. “I’ve always liked the cute ones - I say we play with her a little.”

“And Mother made us promise not to leave scars.” Cassandra reaches out, cupping your chin, grinning at your face losing color from the dread twisting your stomach. “So don’t worry. We’ll be gentle.”

“We promise,” Daniela purrs.

[phoebe-delia]

could u write a drarry oneshot inspired by sweet creature of harry styles? :)

Hello Nonnie! I absolutely can. This is a great suggestion, I love this song for Drarry. I hope you enjoy it. Warnings: injury, drinking, attempted sexual assault that is VERY QUICKLY STOPPED and NOT H/D!!! Thank you to @apr1cots for the beta!

3 Times Harry Brought Draco Home...+1 Time Draco Brought Harry Home

1.

The first time, Harry found him in the cafe near their flat.

He sat down in the chair across from Draco, who glared at him over his cup of tea. "I thought I told you not to follow me."

"I waited three hours. I figured that would be enough time for you to come to your senses, but you didn't come back, so I got worried."

"I can handle myself, thanks."

"I know you can. But you didn't tell me where you went."

Draco's eyes flashed. "That was for a reason, you imbecile."

Harry shook his head. "Flatmates don't do that—disappear for three hours after a fight without saying where they’ve gone."

"I'm an adult. And you're not my father or my boyfriend, so back off."

"No, but I am your friend. And your flatmate. And I don't want to be worried sick for three hours when you fuck off to Merlin knows where because you're feeling pissy!" Harry snapped, letting his anger creep into his voice.

Draco sighed. He took a moment to sip his tea, and then he looked at Harry. "I'll tell you what. If we fight, and I don't return, send an owl, Floo or contact you in some way within six hours, you can send out a bloody search party."

Harry shook his head. “I will give you three hours.”

“Five”

“Three and a half.”

“Four and a half.”

“Four is my final offer.”

Draco scoffed. “Is that so? What are you going to do, show up with half the Auror department?”

Harry pursed his lips. “Not if I don’t have to. But I would.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Care to find out?”

“You’re mental.”

“Maybe,” Harry shrugged. “Trouble is, I don’t care. Now, will you be here for a while, or are you coming home with me?”

“I suppose I'll go, but only since I've already finished my tea,” Draco said with another sigh, which Harry ignored as they both rose from their seats. While they walked to the Apparition point together, Harry replayed in his mind the flicker of emotion on Draco’s face when he said “home.”

2.

The second time, Harry’s glass nearly shattered in his hand from how firmly he was gripping it.

He ignored Hermione’s knowing gaze and Ron’s eye roll as he unabashedly stared daggers at the bloke practically groping Draco at the bar. Harry saw Draco’s eyes widen imperceptibly, noticed his smile falter and his cheekbone twitch.

Yes, he observed this from across the room. You get to know a bloke after living with him for almost a year; besides, Harry was very perceptive—constant vigilance and all that.

Speaking of being an Auror, Harry was pretty sure this prick was breaking some sort of public indecency laws by the way he was sliding his hand further and further up Draco’s leg. Draco gently pried the man’s hand from his thigh, only for the stranger to laugh and reach over again, gripping it even more firmly.

Harry didn’t think beyond getting up from his seat and striding toward the bar, quickening his pace when he saw Draco’s eyes widen in panic. He barely registered the look of horror on the stranger’s face when he grabbed the hand gripping Draco’s thigh and pinned the man face-down on the bar.

“He said no,” Harry said through clenched teeth, ignoring the man’s grunts and protests.

“We were just talking!” The man sputtered, his cheek pressed against the counter as he twisted and wriggled to get free.

Harry tightened his grip. “Conversation’s over. If I catch you trying to ‘talk’ to him again, I’ll make sure you have a nice chat with the Wizengamot about sexual assault. Now, apologize.”

“But—”

“Apologize!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”

Harry smirked. “Good.” He released the man’s arm and let him right himself. The man froze, looking between Harry and Draco expectantly.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Leave. Now.”

The man nodded, scurrying out of the now silent bar, the bell attached to the door tinkling behind him.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Draco’s face was blank other than a raised eyebrow.

Harry shrugged. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. But I am glad you’re okay. You are, right? He didn’t hurt you?” Harry’s chest tightened at the suggestion.

But Draco shook his head. “No, I’m fine. But I think that’s my sign to head home.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“You don���t have to. I’m fine to Floo.”

“I want to.”

“What about your friends?”

Harry cringed and turned back to face the table to see Ron and Hermione looking at him, expressions full of nausea and amusement, respectively. He held up a hand in a small wave. Hermione shook her head and smiled fondly.

Harry grinned and turned back to Draco. “They’ll be alright without me. C’mon, let’s go home. I’ll make us some tea, yeah?”

Draco hesitated at first, but he nodded. And if Harry let his hand linger lightly on Draco’s back when they headed toward the Floo, they could both chalk it up to a safety measure.

3.

The door to Pansy Parkinson’s flat swung open before Harry could knock.

She took one look at him and rolled her eyes. “Could you have taken any longer to get here?”

Harry bristled. “I was—”

“Don’t care. Get in here, he’s on my couch.” She turned and walked away purposefully, and Harry trailed behind her.

“I thought you two were just going for drinks?”

Pansy sighed. “We were, but then we came back here for a few more, and he got into my tequila when my back was turned.” She shook her head. “Tequila is his one weakness—well,” she smirked. “One of them, anyway.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth to respond when a shout sounded from the living room.

He looked over to see Draco sprawled across the couch, an empty glass in one hand and the other nearly touching the floor, his leather-clad legs spread wide.

Draco grinned at Harry. “Harrryyy!!! Come to join the party?”

“He’s come to end it, more like,” Pansy crossed her arms. “It’s time for you to go home, love.”

Draco let out a high, keening whine and burrowed himself further into the couch. “Don’ wanna. Tired. Stay here.”

“No, Draco, we’ve got to go home,” Harry walked up to the couch. His breath caught when gray eyes blinked wide and pleadingly up at him.

Draco held out his arms. “Up.”

“Er, what?”

Draco jerked his arms up and down, keeping them in the air. “Up! Help me up, you great oaf!”

Harry sighed and bent down, taking Draco in his arms and nearly stumbling when the blond let his body weight fall into him.

Draco smirked lazily. “Oops,” he said with a grin in his voice. “Guess you gotta carry me.”

Harry scoffed, looking to Pansy for appeal.

She waved a hand dismissively. “He’s your problem, now. Just get him out of my flat and back home intact, will you?” She didn’t wait for him to respond, walking away into another room.

Harry sighed. He wasn’t sure about the safety of Apparating or taking the Floo with someone in your arms, and the twists and turns of the Knight Bus could make a sober person sick up. With a grunt, he hoisted Draco up and into his arms bridal style, and the other man yelped and then giggled wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck.

“Home,” Draco said softly, and affection spread through Harry’s chest.

“Okay, Draco,” Harry whispered as they made their way out of the flat. “I’ve got you.”

+1.

Harry woke to the sound of muffled voices shouting at each other and the constant beep of a monitor.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, wincing as a sharp pain exploded in his side with the effort. Memories came rushing back: the raid, turning his back for a split second to shout something at Ron, blinding pain, then darkness. He tried to sit up in the hospital bed, but he let himself lie back down when his side throbbed once more.

Suddenly, the door was opened and then promptly slammed shut. “Honestly, the nerve of these people. If he needs bed rest, then where is better than his own bed? Is my Healer degree rendered meaningless the moment I’m off the clock?” Draco muttered, running a hand through his hair as he paced the room angrily.

“Draco?”

Draco jumped and turned to Harry with wild, startled eyes that made Harry laugh, and then wince in pain.

“You’re awake, thank Merlin,” Draco approached the side of the bed, relief replacing the shock on his face.

“How long have I been out?”

“Two days. You were hit with a rare curse that caused an ever-bleeding wound in your side, and the healers had to put you in a magically induced coma to reverse it.”

“That sounds good. Do Robards and—”

“Yes, Ron gave Robards the full briefing. You’re not expected in the office until a Healer permits it.”

“So, can I go home?”

“Yes, now that you’re awake, you can go home. I’ll monitor you from there.”

Harry frowned. “You don’t have to.”

Draco let out a short, humorless chuckle. “You were in a coma for two days, Harry. The only reason they’re discharging you is that you’re going home with a Healer.”

“But you don’t actually have to stay and watch me all day, right?”

“What part of ‘I’ll monitor you from there’ don’t you understand?”

“But I’m fi-!” The last word was cut off as Harry hissed through another spark of pain.

“Fine, are you?”

“Shut up.”

Draco smirked. “Not likely.”

Harry scowled, eliciting a real laugh from Draco, who moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Flatmates don’t do this, y’know.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Take several days off of work to care for the other when they’re injured. I’m not even sure friends do that.”

Harry noticed Draco’s jaw tighten. He ached to reach up and relax it with a gentle touch, but he kept his hand at his side.

“What are you saying, Harry?” Draco asked, his voice low and even.

“I’ll tell you what,” Harry swallowed. “I won’t argue about you wasting days away from work if you let me take you to dinner when I’ve recovered.”

The beginning of a smile curved Draco’s lips. “And what will we do in the meantime?”

Harry waggled his eyebrows. “I can think of a few ways to pass the time.”

Draco chuckled. “If you think I’m missing work just so you wind up back in here because you restarted bleeding during sex, you’ve another thing coming.”

Harry pouted halfheartedly. “Apparently I won’t be coming at all.”

Draco mimicked his petulant frown. “Aww, ickle Harry, being waited on for days by his flatmate-turned-boyfriend.”

“I’ll tell you what—”

“Didn’t we already make a deal?”

“I’ll tell you what: I won’t argue about you missing work or not having sex until I’m recovered if you let me take you to dinner once I’m healed and if we can snog as much as we like.”

"What makes you think I’ll agree to those terms?”

Harry shrugged. “If you don’t like those terms, I can come up with more. Now that I’m on bed rest, I’ve got plenty of time to think.”

“You’re not supposed to strain yourself,” Draco smirked when Harry glared at him.

Harry huffed. “You need to work on your bedside manner, Healer Malfoy.”

“I’ll get plenty of practice this week, then, won’t I?”

“Yes, you will. Now, can we get out of here? I want to start my healing regimen right away.”

Draco laughed and laced their fingers together. “Alright, Harry. Let’s go home.”

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

[local-ground-apple]

Hi could i request sebek nervously trying to confess to his female crush please

yey, first sebek request! Recently he has been living in my mind free rent and he’s not even my diasomnia’s favourite, yet he has a whole playlist dedicated to him, ech 🙃  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

he is like that vine “I LOVE YOU DOG” but switch dog to human, 

Sorry it took me so long!~~~💖😅😅😅

You absolutely shouldn’t yell, you will scare her”

“Old man is right. Just do it gently”

Sebek and gently, huh? Lilia could already sense a rather chaotic and big catastrophe coming. Old fae would wait with anticipation for the upcoming events.

When a wave of surprisingly comforting silence fell, you didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You caught a brief glance of Sebek who was gripping his tea spoon as if his life depended on it. He hadn’t touched his tea at all this whole evening. He had been absent-mindly picking at the lovely looking piece of red velvet cake that (thank goodness) wasn’t baked by Lilia.

He seemed off.

And you slightly began to worry.

You could practically feel his uneasiness as his form was oozing with anxiety and nervousness. Sebek cleared his throat, finally raising his head and looking you straight in the eyes.

,,Human”

,,Dear yelling fae”

You finally saw the emotions flashing through Sebek’s face. His eyes narrowed and a pinched expression crept on his pale face. He crossed his arms and let out an exasperated sigh, before his hands return to playing with his food.

,,Just, don’t yell and do something about that rigid posture of yours. Don’t be a lousy fae and bloody confess to your beloved!”

Sebek heard Lilia’s voice replaying in his head one more time.

A sly grin flashed on your face, clearly enjoying Sebek’s suffering. You were oblivious to what was waiting for you in store. Knight signed, settling down the fork which he almost bend from the amount of strength he was using.

,,I. I-I suppose you’re not just a low human anymore. Endurable would be a tad proper word.”

His slightly faltering voice, rosy cheeks and how he avoided looking straight in your eyes, staring downward, made you gasp. Your eyes widen and for a brief moment his words knocked out your breath. His words rendered you speechless.

Did Sebek Zigvolt just?

Did he just admit you weren’t a lowly human? 

Now you were endurable?

How?

You almost choked on the piece of cake, barely swallowing it with a gulp. You almost felt as if your heart could burst. You were bewildered by the change of his nickname for you and how gentle his voice was.

Sebek Zigvolt called you endurable human. Endurable. Not a mere or lowly human, no.

You were endurable.

Surely, it couldn’t have been him. No, there was absolutely no way Sebek Zigvolt would just see you as someone else than a mere human who didn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as Malleus Draconia.

,,Perhaps, I could even remark you as a dearest human of mine”

That gentle tone you had never ever heard from Sebek, his shy glance and pure affection gleaming in his eys, were too much for your poor heart.

You were stunned and at the loss of words.

You could feel your heart beating rapidly and your face was washed blank with pure confusion. Your brain tried to take in the Sebek’s words with wide eyes, but it was futile.

,,This isn’t easy for me. I’ve never…felt…Not like this, not for a human. But you matter. Matter a lot to me.”

This time Sebek’s voice wasn’t faltering, no. His hand run through his hair as he let out a heavy sigh. It wasn’t easy for him. Slowly a wave of uneasiness and nervousness was leaving his rigid body.

You didn’t know how to respond. You doubted any words would be sufficient enough to explain the weird state Sebek suddenly threw you in with just his words. Your eyes couldn’t possible widen a bit more, you felt a strange wave of emotions crushing onto your body and you could swear your heart was ready burst any second.

Your astonished state suddenly made Sebek feel less insecure and nervous. He felt a sudden rush of confidence from your stunned figure, remarking that perhaps Lilia was right that he had an effect on you.

,,Would you like to become my dearest and loveliest human whom I could cherish and show my undying ardour for you?”

Sebek’s sultry voice with a hint of hope and nervousness pulled you out of your trance. You quickly eyes his seemingly composed yet anxious form, while biting hard on your lower lip. Your brain was slowly processing his words, before you reached a conclusion.

,,Does it mean you love me Sebek?”

You bluntly asked, not wanting to beat around the bush. He raised an eyebrow clearly not expecting this answer from you. Maybe that’s what Lilia meant when he briefly told him to be direct. Oh.

,,You humans call this feeling love, I will swear my loyalty and devote myself to adorning you”

Sebek’s smile faltered when he heard you giggle. You looked at you with a raised eyebrow, pure confusion written all over his face. 

Why were you laughing? Were you mocking him? 

Lilia hadn’t prepared him for this turn of events. Your giggles and watery eyes soon calmed a bit.

You took a deep breath before speaking again.

,,You’re so dramatic, my dearest fae. I love you too Sebek”

The sudden anxiety left his body and even the table didn’t stop Sebek from leaning in and pressing his warm lips against yours in passionate, yet a bit sloppy kiss. His hands gently hold your cheek, while your fingers run through his styled hair, gently playing with them.

,,Dearest human, I wrote a special poem for you”

,,W-what?”

 BONUS:

“Finally this mooncalf confessed his undying feelings to our favourite human. What a dainty, adorable couple”

Lilia cooed, while his legs loosely hang from the tree he was sitting on having the best view on Sebek and Y/N. Malleus sighed deeply and Silver was holding the branch as if his life depended on it,  in fear of falling down.

,,Maybe from now on Sebek will refrain from following me everywhere”

,,I highly doubt that”

Remarked Silve,r who for a brief moment lost his balance, but his jacket was grabbed by Lilia.

,,Mayhap, you will be invited to their wedding?”

“I better be”

[ravnicaforgoblins]

Ravnica for Goblins

Exciting Planeswalker Visitors

(Caution: Before we begin, this post is going to be much more opinion-based than previous ones. These are my own homebrew ideas, use them as/if you wish, discard/dismiss them if you prefer.)

Planeswalkers are an integral part of MTG Lore, as well as several of its most iconic characters. Put simply, a Planeswalker is an individual with an inherent gift for traveling between planes, or worlds. The gift does not appear at birth, but is usually triggered by some manner of incredibly emotional (usually traumatizing) event. In addition, each Planeswalker displays a unique aptitude for a particular style of magic; be it plant growth, transformation, becoming transparent, illusions, invulnerability, summoning beasts, structural analysis, setting things on fire, etc. Whatever their specific brand of magic is, it’s usually on a higher level than an ordinary person can hope to achieve.

Planeswalkers, as a general rule, are wanderers by nature. They may have a home plane, or even an adopted home plane, but being able to traverse the multiverse leads many towards lives of constant adventuring/shenanigans. Add in the fact that Planeswalkers cannot bring anyone else with them on these travels (except in very rare cases), and you end up with a special breed of super-powerful magical loner. They show up, make a name for themselves with their big magic, and depart when they feel like it. Did you say, “Instant Adventure”?

Ravnica has a few native Planeswalkers among its citizens; Ral Zarek, Vraska, and Domri Rade. In addition, it has several Planeswalkers who have at some point or another (depending on your timeline) devoted enough time & energy to be effectively considered citizens; Azor, Tezzeret, Kaya, Dack Fayden, Dovin Baan, Gideon Jura, and Jace Beleren. Some of these are currently dead, missing, or magically barred from ever returning. At one point, Ravnica had more Planeswalkers on it at one time than any plane in the multiverse has ever or will ever see. If you are going the War of the Spark direction, good luck. You'll need it and so will your players. For everyone else, which Planeswalkers you choose to include in your campaign (if any), should be based on who will work the best for the story you’re trying to tell. A recommendation; if you find their lore too distracting and complicated, stick to the main beats. A lot of these figures can be boiled down to simple ideas, and you don’t want to bore your party with the entire novel of these usually dramatic/tragic lives. Trust me, the base concepts are enough.

With that in mind, here are four Planeswalkers that I, a random person on the internet, believe would work great for a Ravnica campaign. My choices are not based on who has canonically already spent time in Ravnica, or who would be the most powerful/dangerous to suddenly appear in the city. Several Planeswalkers have their own prior commitments on other planes that are pretty central to their character, and BAMFing them to Ravnica for a quick Bad Guy to take down wouldn’t do them justice. These four characters would slide into various aspects of Ravnica beautifully. These four would be the most exciting visitors to Ravnica.

Ashiok, Dream Render

I don’t think any MTG character could be as good a fit for a Ravnican Guild as Ashiok is for House Dimir. Ashiok is almost literally a walking shadow of secrets and intrigue. Their origins, their age, their motives, their face; hell, their gender is a secret yet unrevealed. Ashiok’s power is creating living beings born of the greatest fears stolen from people’s nightmares. Literally.

It’s like if the Dimir stopped half-assing the art of stealing thoughts and turned it into a weapon of mass destruction. Because even the mightiest of Ravnicans are afraid of things. Ask Niv-Mizzet about the Nephilim sometime, see how quickly he changes the subject. What’s better, for a Guild that prides itself on always having the up & up on everyone, Ashiok is inscrutable. They have no past that can be divined, no secrets that can be stolen, no previous encounters to prepare any for their arrival. Neither Lazav nor Etrata can claim such anonymity, despite their best efforts. Ashiok is a true enigma and a dangerous new weapon for House Dimir.

Ashiok also comes with the ability to create minions and NPCs from out of any PC’s worst nightmares, making encounters a great combination of roleplaying & combat. Fighting them is specifically facing one’s deepest & darkest fears made real. Can you say, “character development”?

Ashiok’s arrival could spread this new magical art to other Dimir Agents for a longer campaign, but it might be best to confine it to Ashiok in order to allow for a cleaner victory. Ashiok is not a fighter, cornering them into a direct confrontation should be enough to make the Nightmare Sculptor run for the hills. The mind is powerful, but also very squishy.

Tibalt, the Fiend-Blooded

You know how the Cult of Rakdos are technically Chaotic Evil but generally just a bunch of artsy hedonistic nuisances? Tibalt is to them what a gallon of gasoline would be to a lit stove. Good for fire, bad for everything else. Tibalt is an empath specializing in Pain Magic. Quite literally, he loves hurting people for fun. Drawn to pain like a magnet; physical, emotional, spiritual, psychological, etc, he is sadism personified.

His brief time on Ravnica during War of the Spark was enough to make a strong impression on the Rakdos.

“I like this one’s energy.”

This is because they do not realize how bad Tibalt would be for the Cult. There is a fundamental difference between the Chaotic Evil the Cult practices and the Chaotic Evil Tibalt delights in. The Rakdos have survived 10,000 years by taking in the freaks, the rejects, and the crazies, and giving them a place where they can live out their most depraved hedonistic fantasies. They are the voice of the outsiders bringing all figures of power & authority down a peg. They always punch up, never down. Tibalt is a young man with no home, no friends, no job, and no interests or hobbies beyond inflicting pain in as many people as possible. Tibalt punches everyone. The most important distinction between the two is that the Cult of Rakdos is a culture, a way of life for people to embrace; it might be crazy, but it welcomes & accepts people no matter how insane the world says they are. Tibalt does not care about anyone but himself. Following his example would see the city turned into the largest, bloodiest, and most destructive riot in its history; with Tibalt inciting and sicking every monstrosity he can find onto the city at once. He will burn the Rakdos candle at both ends and leave them to suffer the consequences of his fun. The aftermath being the city in ruins, the Cult wiped from the face of existence, and him moving on to his next project. In short, Tibalt will hurt the Cult of Rakdos as much, if not more, than the rest of Ravnica. Because that’s how he gets his kicks.

The one thing standing in his way will be Rakdos himself. As the single largest diva on the entire plane, Rakdos does not tolerate anyone who tries to steal his spotlight. As a 10,000+ year-old Demon Lord, Rakdos is in a league of his own, and Tibalt is just a hotshit little pain mage with a few tricks. It’s not a fight, it’s either an exit or a curtain call for the Planeswalker. If Rakdos is around, Tibalt’s spree will be very short-lived. If, however, Rakdos is doing his usual thing of hibernating for weeks, months, or years at a time, that’s a different story. Tibalt is good for if your campaign wants to bypass politics & intrigue and go straight to killing Cultists & Demons. He’s bad for anyone he comes in contact with.

Garruk Wildspeaker

In case I haven’t made my contempt for Domri Rade clear, I hold Domri Rade in utter contempt. As a character, as a Planeswalker, and most of all as a Gruul, he’s a failure. Scrawny, weak, gullible, and stupid. My chief grievance with Domri is that he fell short in all the areas the Gruul Clans idolize. He couldn’t survive in the wilderness on his own without his Planeswalker abilities, he couldn’t fight for himself except against weaker opponents or with herds of animals as backup, and he acted on orders from someone else who wasn’t Gruul. For a Guild built on independence and survival of the fittest, he failed both completely.

Garruk is the real deal. Gigantic, strong, savage, and cunning. Here is a man who, on a fundamental level, has embraced animal savagery as a way of life. He lives like a predator on the hunt, an alpha of any pack, and a fierce threat to all who intrude upon his territory. On a plane like Ravnica, where civilization has encroached on the untamed wilds almost completely, Garruk would be a gamechanger. Not only could he feasibly fight Borborygmos for leadership of the Gruul, he could win, and he could unite the Gruul under his howl of reclaiming the wilds from so-called “civilization”. Garruk would bring animal strength to the Gruul in ways they’ve only begun to tap into, and he’d do it in their language. Because Garruk understands the Gruul, and they understand him. They have so much in common with each other that it’s hard to think of any Planeswalker who could be welcomed so readily into a Guild. They would become so much more than rock-smashers and anarchists, they would become Ravnica’s reminder that nature will survive when all traces of society have crumbled away.

As if taking on the city itself wasn’t big enough already, Garruk has also taken to hunting other Planeswalkers, and can actually track them across the Multiverse. Meaning a few high-ranking members of Guilds and even the Living Guildpact have to take his threat seriously. He’s got a particular grudge against necromancers, dislikes talking, and has a special gift with animals of all varieties. All of which provides plenty of ideas to build from. He’s an 8ft tall Human Druid/Barbarian who willingly chooses animal savagery over intellectual reasoning, can there be anyone more perfect for the Gruul?

Did I say Ashiok was the most perfect fit for an MTG character in a Ravnican Guild? Yeah, scratch that. Garruk is.

Sarkhan Vol

Most Planeswalkers have a theme to their abilities. For some, that theme extends to their personalities as well. And then there are Planeswalkers who can be adequately summed up in a single word. For Sarkhan, that word would be “dragons”. Sarkhan sees dragons as nature’s purest & most destructive form, and carries a fascination with them that is perfectly healthy for anything with wings and scales that breathes fire, but generally less healthy for everything & everyone else.

One of the things that makes Ravnica unique is the distinct lack of dragons (emphasis on the plural). Ravnica has a dragon, Niv-Mizzet the Firemind, who made the executive decision thousands of years ago that he alone was sufficient to represent his entire species. Ravnican dragons are considered more intelligent than dragons on other planes, Niv himself being a prime example of this. Around the original signing of the Guildpact, Ravnica’s Godlike dragons were hunted to extinction, with Niv leading the hunt against his own kind. They were not entirely successful in this endeavor, but what few dragons do remain in the present day survive by staying as far off Niv’s radar as possible. Some dragons live by carrying out Niv’s will under constant supervision, or by hunting in the untamed wilds outside the city, or as sideshow attractions for the Rakdos (usually with their wings cut off to prevent escape). They are effectively stripped of anything that would identify them as “dragons” for the sake of their own existence. Since dragons are such a notoriously touchy subject for the Firemind, few have the nerve or fire immunity necessary to speak out against it.

Sarkhan would be horrified. If he thought the extinction of dragons on his home plane of Tarkir was bad, seeing them living like this would infuriate him beyond words. What would Sarkhan do once the initial shock of seeing his spirit animal (in more ways than one) reduced to pitiful scraps of life as lab rats, scared prey, and freak shows wears off? Let’s make it a game! Do you think Sarkhan will:

A. Cry.

B. Throw up.

C. Embrace this as a plane’s reality that he has no right to get involved with.

D. Scream.

E. Set something on fire.

F. Set everything on fire.

G. Bring back the dragons.

H. Burn the city to the ground with dragons.

I. Kill Niv-Mizzet.

J. All the above except “C”.

If you selected Answer “J”, then congratulations! You’ve just won a free trip to a BURNING METROPOLIS! Sarkhan will absolutely make it his life’s goal to bring dragons back to Ravnica and destroy the whole wretched city down to the last brick. How he would do it is up to you, but it’s a solid bet that even if every other Guild treats him like an apocalyptic madman, the Gruul might side with him over some shared beliefs in smashing the city apart with ferocious animal savagery. They tend to lean towards such ideas with uncharacteristic willful compliance. Ravnican dragons are primarily red, with the most prominent breed still remaining being the Utvara Hellkites beyond the city limits.

Oh, and Sarkhan can turn into a dragon, too. Have fun with that.

[meruz]

replying to some asks - lots of weird preachy art advice. just trying to cram every sophomore year art school lecture into my blog

ANON, PLEASE SEND ME A PICTURE OF THIS..........................

glad to hear it!!!! I always love to see sketches from other artists but somehow when I post mine I feel like it’s just...cheap? like its not ““Real content”““ LOL... but if even one person likes to see it thats all I need to hear

very interesting question, thank you for being specific because that makes it a lot easier to answer. This is going to kind of sound like what every other artist tells you but

1) Go to figure drawing classes/sessions! I know we’re in the middle of a pandemic right now but actually that might even make it easier to find because a lot of figure drawing sessions are being held online atm! Anyways, I cannot possibly overemphasize the importance or studying the human form from life. It’s something that artists spend their whole lives studying and still learn new things about. Nude figure sessions are far preferred over clothed ones especially for beginners but, really, any practice from life helps. Whenever you draw from observation, make sure to step back and really look at your model and then your drawing. What discrepancies do you see, what feels like its missing, where do you think you can improve, etc etc. developing a critical eye is crucial.

I think figure drawing classes are the best method by far but theres plenty of other ways to get the practice in. I do a lot of cafe drawing and drawing on public transport, personally. Drawing from life is vastly preferred over drawing from photo reference because the human body is a living thing and conveying it properly means understanding 3D space and gesture and movement, all things that are easier to perceive irl. A lot of artists draw from dance videos on youtube to at least get the idea of movement even if it’s ultimately from a 2D screen. Recently, I’ve been drawing a lot from rock climbing videos on youtube!

because they’re climbing you actually get a lot of interesting angles LOL... good study of pose-to-pose relationships too, actually..

2) Practice dynamically. If you can develop the eye to figure out where your drawings are lacking, you can practice with those weaknesses in mind. If you realize you don’t really understand the structure of a foot or the back of the head or the back when it’s arched, look up references and practice those things specifically. Sometimes it’s not in the specifics but the general - if you realize you have a hard time proportioning out the figure, draw guides for yourself and set goals to draw proportions before details. Stuff like that.

3) Box Trick. This is just the simplest way to get a set of guidelines down for perspective on the human body the same way you put down guidelines to figure out where the eyes sit on the head LOL.

but here’s something to keep in mind regardless: perspective is a game. You’re tricking the eye into thinking something is close or far when actually its just sitting on the same 2D plane as everything else. You can do the math and make all the guides you want but at the end of the day its either going to look convincing or its not. And being convincing is a lot less about being accurate and a lot more about confidently selling your point. So don’t sweat the calculations of proportions, make hands or heads or feet as big as you feel is right and trust your eye and your gut over your brain.

Hi, yeah sure go ahead! As long as you link+credit me, I don’t mind my work being used for non-profit purposes. Especially fanart like.. I don’t even own these characters LOL. Just, if you edit my art, please don’t use it to perpetuate like...hate speech or even edgy politics... unless they are edgy politics I have explicitly endorsed LOL. If you’re ever on the fence abt it feel free to ask, of course!

TYSSMMM yeah ideally I guess its just ? group therapy LOL? I feel like actually Ryuji, Akechi, and Haru are characters we see very rarely interact and when they do they seem very alienated by each other?? So I think it would actually be great for them to chat LOL they have a lot in common especially the fondness for direct action.

VERY NICE THINGS TO SAY TYSMMMMMMMMMM

I guess since I was old enough to hold a crayon? Doesn’t every kid draw? 

But if you mean when I started seriously drawing and trying to get better.. I guess I started carrying a sketchbook when I was 12-13 years old and I’m turning 25 in a couple days so it’s been 12-13 years about. I don’t believe that years have any huge bearing on art progress though. You can be drawing for 50 years without ever deepening or widening your skill set, if you stick to the same old patterns day in and day out. Similarly an artist who is proactive with learning new skills and targeting their weaknesses can improve in leaps and bounds in a matter of weeks.

The style I currently use for painting, I only really started using.... about 3 years ago? When I was a senior in college.

but i wouldn’t say I’ve “““mastered”““ it and I doubt I really ever will because I don’t think that’s the point... I’m constantly changing things depending on how I want a painting to look or the way I want it to feel... or how I feel on any given day LOL

the thing about art style is I don’t think it’s actually something you have to work on or “find”. An artist should change the way they draw depending on the subjects or techniques they want to explore. If I wanted to convey comedy, I’d draw characters differently from how I would if I wanted to portray drama. And if I wanted to focus on lighting I’d paint differently from how I would if I wanted to focus on the details of the human form. When I was drawing a lot of digimon fanart earlier this year I drew differently from how I’m drawing now while putting out a lot of persona 5 fanart LOL - even when the content is similar the characters have different gestures and different tone that I convey through any number of things, proportion, rendering, edge definition, color range, etc etc.

as you experiment with techniques and approaches undoubtedly there’ll be some you’re naturally better at or more interested in than others. and i think that’s what a person’s “art style” really is, the stuff that you gravitate to and come back to over and over even as you transform and explore.

not sure if that makes sense but.. that’s my two cents, anyway.

yea hit me uppp dude isellhotdogs@gmail.com lmk what you want and I’ll give you a quote

[masterofmunson]

all i ask of you (3)

Harry Styles x Fem!Reader Broadway AU

Summary: You’re forced to work with your famous ex boyfriend on Broadway.

Word Count: 4.3k+

Warnings: language

Author’s Note: Yay a longer chapter than the two previous ones! Enjoy and tell me what you think!

You stare at Harry. You can’t tell what he’s thinking or feeling. His face is void of any emotion. He climbs out of bed silently and you follow suit. You reach for his hand but he recoils from your touch.  

“Harry?” you say his name softly. You’re too scared to speak. You don’t know what to say. You hadn’t expected him to be so quiet at your happy news. 

He turns to face you. His eyes no longer hold the admiration and excitement they once held when you told him the news just moments earlier. Now they’re dark and cold. 

“How long have you known?” Harry asks you. 

“About a week. I leave at the end of summer, so we still have plenty of time together—”

“No.”

Your brows crease in confusion. You take a step back. You hadn’t expected him to be so cold and callous towards you. 

“No? What do you mean no? This is my dream! Would it kill you to be happy for me, Harry?”

Harry glares at you. He crosses his arms over his chest. He rolls his eyes and laughs bitterly at you. It sends a chill down your spine. 

“So you’re leaving me? Leaving us?”

You blink in disbelief. You can hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth. Where is the man you’re falling in love with? “I’m moving for a job, Harry. I figured that we could still be together since you travel for your job. We can work this out.”

He laughs again. “Are you joking? You want us to do long distance? Absolutely not. It’s me or New York. Your choice.”

You gasp in response. Tears threaten to spill over your cheeks. You can’t believe he’s making you choose. Harry of all people should understand. He’s done everything in his power to be as successful as he is. He’s made sacrifices too. Why can’t you do the same? Is it because he’s famous and you’re not? 

“Are you joking, Harry? Why are you doing this? I still want to be with you! You would never do this to someone like Taylor or Kendall!” you shout, throwing his ex girlfriends into the fight. If Harry can be petty so can you. 

“They’re different! They’re famous and—”

“I’m not,” you interrupt bitterly with a stiff nod. “What’d you expect, Harry? That I would just wait for you and jump at the chance to go on tour with you if you asked me to? I have a career I’m chasing after and now that I have it you’re giving me an ultimatum. Do you realize how selfish and cruel you’re being?”

“Choose!” Harry shouts. His hair is wild and unruly. The eyes you love so dearly are cruel and cold. 

Now it’s your turn to laugh bitterly. You shake your head and quickly gather your things off the bedroom floor. You’re rendered speechless and you run out of his bedroom. 

You don’t say goodbye. You don’t need to. Harry already did that himself. 

… 

Something changes between you and Harry after your night at Glass House. He doesn’t intrude on your space. He doesn’t speak to you outside of rehearsals and you don’t know whether to be relieved or worried. 

Frank doesn’t notice and you’re relieved. Your job is no longer on the line and you and Harry are professional towards one another. It’s the best the both of you can do considering the circumstances. 

However, you’re positively glowing now that Harry is on the receiving end of Frank’s short temper. Now that you’re days away from Harry’s Broadway debut, you’re working with him on blocking. He can’t seem to get the steps right in the relatively short dance sequence he’s in or where he needs to stand and walk as he sings. 

“Harry, my god, don’t act like you’re so repulsed by Y/n. Raoul and Christine are now engaged. They’re all over each other. They can’t stand to be away from each other. You need to hold her close,” Frank directs, grabbing Harry and dragging him to you. 

You’re chest to chest with Harry and you can hear his hard breaths. You carefully move your hands to the base of his neck. His hands find purchase on your waist. His eyes meet yours and you nod in approval. 

“Relax, Harry,” you whisper under your breath at him. “That’s the only way you’re going to get Frank off your case. It’s okay for you to touch me.”

He nods silently and you start the scene over again. You follow Harry’s lead and move swiftly and effortlessly across the stage. You cling to him like you’re supposed to and Harry’s fingers dig into your waist, briefly lifting you off the ground before setting you back down again. 

Your foreheads touch and Harry twirls you sweetly, perfectly portraying Raoul. You step apart when Frank shouts behind you. 

“Better. You definitely need more practice, but it’s better. Let’s work on the blocking for All I Ask of You.” 

You nod and so does Harry. You walk towards Harry and he hesitantly wraps his arms around you. You rest your head against his shoulder and squeeze him tightly. His hand gently caresses your head as he sings. 

You pull away and Harry brushes his finger against your cheek as you sing to him. You squeeze his hand and he holds your hands gently to his chest. You move slowly across the stage, following Harry’s lead. You pull away completely and walk to the front of the stage. You turn your head to look back at him and he walks to meet you at the front. You let him take your hands again and as the lyric approaches, you take a deep breath. 

Harry’s eyes soften as he looks at you and you meet his gaze. You lean to kiss him and one of his hands holds the side of your face. The kiss seems to last an eternity. You pull away and finish the song. 

You take another deep breath. You have to kiss Harry again. Your eyes are trained on his mouth and you force a smile onto your face. You’re Christine. Harry is Raoul. You’re a professional. 

You lean in to kiss him again. Harry grins and holds your face tenderly. He kisses you, smiling against your mouth. Your eyes close and Harry gently lifts you off the ground, spinning the two of you across the stage before the scene ends. 

Harry sets you down and you step away from him. Your skin feels hot to the touch and you feel incredibly flustered. You bury the weird feeling deep inside your chest. 

You scratch at your arm and your eyes follow Frank’s. Your ears are ringing and you feel the blood drain from your face. 

“I’ll be right back,” you tell Frank before running off to the closest bathroom. 

You practically throw the door open and you stand in front of the bathroom sink. You lean your hands on the sink and breathe heavily. Your body starts to shake and you let out a labored breath. 

You turn the sink on and splash water on your face. You sigh and stare at yourself in the mirror. 

“I can do this. I can do this. I can do this,” you whisper to yourself. “Don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid!”

You splash more water on to your face before turning off the sink. You straighten out your back and open the door. 

“Hey,” Harry mutters, pushing himself off the wall. 

You stop at the doorway and look over at him. 

“Are you okay?”

You nod silently. “Yeah. I think it’s the tuna salad I had for lunch,” you lie, letting the door shut behind you. “Sorry for keeping you waiting. What did Frank say?”

“He said it was a good start, but I need to relax more. He said you were perfect,” Harry answers as the two of you walk side by side back to the stage. 

You nod. “It’s just me, Harry. Despite all the shit that’s happened between us, we still have to work together. I know it's been difficult for the both of us, but I think it’s best if we start over, for the sake of the show. I’ve nearly sabotaged my job because I’ve been unprofessional towards you. It’s been four years and it’s not like we were serious anyways.”

Harry stops in the middle of the hallway and you turn your head to look at him. His brows are creased as hurt crosses over his face. It makes your stomach drop. 

Shit. You shouldn’t have said that out loud. 

You’ve convinced yourself that what you had with Harry wasn’t serious in order to avoid acknowledging your hurt and heartbreak. Acknowledging it meant you were weak and allowed Harry control over you even though you weren’t together anymore. You lied straight through your teeth in order to convince yourself that you were completely fine after the break up, even though it destroyed you. 

“You didn’t think we were serious?” Harry asks you. His eyes are cold as he looks at you. It sends a shiver down your spine. You’re instantly reminded of when you broke up. 

You scratch at your arm and look away from him. You swallow hard and rock back on your heels. “We were together for five months, Harry. We were better off as friends,” you reasoned. “Maybe we wouldn’t have such a fucked up relationship if we didn’t do anything before.”

Harry takes a step away from you. You hadn’t expected such a negative reaction. It’s like you wounded him. 

“I told you I loved you.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. You shake your head at him. “And then a week later you made me choose between you and my career, and I broke up with you. If you really did love me like you say you did, you would’ve never made me choose,” you snapped angrily. You resist the urge to punch in his perfect teeth.

He still doesn’t get it. Nothing’s changed in the four years you’ve been apart. You still can’t look at him without the hurt resurfacing. 

His love meant nothing the moment he made you choose. His selfishness couldn’t be ignored. You’re better off now than you were before. The love you had for him disappeared the second you left his house that day. Instead, bitterness and anger took its place. 

“You were my best friend before we dated and while we were dating. As my boyfriend and best friend, you should’ve supported me, but you didn’t.”

“What happened to starting over?” Harry snaps back, glaring at you. “For the sake of the show?”

You roll your eyes at him. “I forgive you, Harry,” you tell him. You sigh tiredly, pinching the spot between your eyes. “That doesn’t mean I’ll forget. I’m not afraid to tell you that you broke my heart.”

Harry noticeably flinches at your admission and you turn your back to him. You walk quickly back to the stage. Harry follows behind you and you stand beside Jane near the front of the group. 

“Everything okay?” Jane whispers to you. Her eyes move from you to Harry. 

You nod. “Everything’s fine, Janie. I’m okay.”

You can tell she doesn’t buy it, but she lets it go. 

“To promote the show with Harry as the newest addition to the cast, I’ve arranged for a handful of you to go to popular restaurants to sing to the guests as entertainment tonight. As for Harry and Y/n, I’ve arranged something for tomorrow morning. I contacted the Today Show and they’ll be coming to interview the two of you before rehearsals start tomorrow,” Frank states excitedly. He smiles eagerly. 

You momentarily forget how to breathe. Your stomach drops and Jane slips her hand into yours. She squeezes your hand in silent support. How could Frank do this so last minute? He has no idea what Harry’s fans are like. They’ll try to link you to him almost immediately. You were lucky they never caught on to your relationship when you were together. 

“Did you get the okay from Harry’s precious manager?” Jane asks sarcastically. You nudge her and Harry glares at her from across the stage. 

Frank ignores her question. “I want the two of you to be here no later than 6:30.”

You nod silently and Frank goes back to going over what needs to be done before the scheduled dress rehearsal two days from now. 

The rest of rehearsal goes by pretty smoothly. Harry’s working well with Aaron and getting better at remembering what he needs to do on stage and where he needs to walk in each scene and during each song. 

You don’t do much out of the ordinary. You help lead Harry where he needs to be on stage despite what happened earlier. 

He avoids you as much as he can the rest of the day. You know he’s angry with you and you’re tired of having to explain yourself to him. You told him what you needed to. You admitted and acknowledged the hurt he put you through despite not wanting to. Now everything’s gone and done with. Now it’s up to him. 

You wonder if admitting the hurt he caused you to his face changes things between the two of you. It was the closure you wanted ever since you broke up four years ago. He knows now and you can let it go. You can leave Harry in your past now that it’s done weighing on your chest. It doesn’t matter that you still have to work with him for the next six weeks. You’re done hurting. You let it go. You let him go. 

“Are you coming with us to Stardust or are you heading home?” Aaron asks you after rehearsals are done for the night. 

You shrug. You know you should go home. You have an early day tomorrow and you should go to bed early, but you know you’d have fun if you joined them at Stardust prompting the show. 

“You don’t have to,” Jane tells you with a gentle smile. You know she can tell how tired you are. “We’ll give you the rundown tomorrow.” 

You laugh, nodding at your best friend. “Thanks for giving me permission to go home,” you tease. 

You step into your dressing room and Aaron walks down the hall into his own room. You ignore Harry sitting on the couch tucked in the corner of the room. You almost miss the two people that sit beside him on the couch. It makes your heart drop inside your chest. 

“Glenne?” you gasp, standing frozen at the door. Her eyes meet yours. “What are you doing here?”

She smiles brightly at you. She stands up from her spot on the couch and nearly tackles you into a hug. You laugh and wrap your arms around her. She squeezes you tightly and kisses your cheek. 

“You suck at keeping in touch,” Glenne teases, leaning back to get a better look at you. 

You roll your eyes and laugh at her. “Is being a Broadway Star a valid excuse yet?” you ask her. 

She scoffs at you and nudges you playfully. “I see you’re still a smart-ass.”

“Hey, I’m your pseudo sister, of course I’m a smart-ass!” you reason with a giggle. 

“Well, Jeff and I are here for the next week, so you better tell me everything! We were just about to head out for dinner. Would you like to join us?”

It’s like Glenne forgot what happened between you and Harry. It was one of the reasons why you struggled reaching out to her after you moved to New York. Your fears always got the better of you. 

What if she told Harry how you were truly feeling? God, what if she told Jeff? You wouldn’t know what to do or say if either of them knew the amount of emotional distress you were going through when you and Harry broke up. It was one of the reasons why you distanced yourself from Glenne. She was so close with Harry that you feared she might let some things slip that you didn’t want Harry to know. 

You sigh, scratching at your arm. You know you shouldn’t, especially after what happened between you and Harry earlier today. He’s pissed at you and wants nothing to do with you. 

“I dunno, Glenne. I don’t want to intrude. You came for Harry,” you tell her, avoiding the look of disappointment on her face. “I shouldn’t.”

“I’m sure Harry won’t mind. Right, H?” Glenne asks, turning her head to look at him. He sits up and shrugs. He avoids looking at you. 

“You can come. I don’t care,” he responds, standing up from his spot on the couch. You nod awkwardly and grab your jacket from your chair. Slipping your arms through, you grab your bag and Jane looks at you in disbelief. She can’t believe you’re choosing to go out with old friends you lost touch with as a result of your break up with Harry four years earlier. 

You shake her off and she rolls her eyes at you before disappearing down the hall into Aaron’s dressing room. You swallow hard and shake off your nerves before trailing behind Harry, Jeff, and Glenne as you leave the back of the theater. 

You walk to the garage closest to the theater and wordlessly climb into the back of Harry’s car. Glenne joins you in the back seat and you rub your hands on the top of your thighs. You shouldn’t have said yes to dinner. You should be at home drinking wine by yourself, eating dinner, and watching reruns of your favorite TV show. 

Harry drives with music playing softly in the background. He drives away from the theater district towards the Upper East Side. It makes your stomach drop and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. You may be on Broadway, but there’s no way you can afford to eat wherever Harry’s driving to. You have three roommates and live comfortably and within your means. You never go out of your way to eat at upscale celebrity restaurants or shop at upscale boutiques either. 

You cough uncomfortably. “Actually, do you mind dropping me off at my place?” 

Harry looks at you through the mirror and Glenne turns her head to look at you. “What? Why?” Glenne asks you. 

“Glenne, come on. Harry’s driving towards the Upper East Side. I can’t afford wherever you’re eating dinner. Just take me home,” you answer. Embarrassment and shame wash over you and you hate it. You feel tears gather at the corners of your eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it,” Harry tells you, pulling his eyes away from the mirror and back on the road. 

“Harry—”

“I know,” he cuts you off. “I know you don’t like it when I pay for things. You can buy me dinner another time.”

You close your mouth and stare down at your lap. Heat pricks at your cheeks and spreads to the tips of your ears. You feel so inadequate compared to Harry, Glenne, and Jeff. It doesn’t matter that you’re successful in your own right, but you’ll never make enough money to just make a trip to the Upper East Side without it being a special occasion. 

You stare out the window as Harry pulls up to the restaurant. You climb out and everyone else does the same. Harry gives his keys to the valet and you walk inside. 

The hostess seats you almost immediately. She’s clearly unfazed that Harry is just feet away from her. 

You take the seat next to Glenne and you grab at your menu. You hide your face from Harry and another wave of embarrassment washes over you. You’re incredibly under dressed. You planned on just taking the bus home and enjoying the house to yourself in your comfiest pair of joggers and an old college sweatshirt. 

Your server comes by to take your drink order and you almost order a glass of Pinot Grigio. You decide against it when you realize Harry’s footing the bill and just ask for water. 

“So, how’s New York been for you? How many shows have you been in?” Jeff asks you when you set your menu back on the table. 

“I love it here. I know it’s another city but it’s so different from LA. I’ve really found my place here and I can’t imagine living anywhere else. This is my home,” you smile at him. It’s the first genuine smile that graces your features. You’re starting to relax and breathe a bit better than when you were in the car. “I’ve been in five shows since I’ve been here. Phantom is my first big lead, though.”

“We’re glad you’re happy,” Glenne smiles at you. “You should be so proud of all that you’ve done!”

Your eyes meet Harry’s briefly and you nudge your childhood friend. You laugh. “Trust me, I am. It’s definitely been hard sometimes, but I have Janie to lean on. She’s my rock. I don’t know where I’d be without her. She’s my best friend.”

“And you’re in a show together! It must be awesome to work alongside your best friend every day.”

You nod as your server returns with your drinks. He takes down your meals before disappearing again. You anxiously tap your foot underneath the table and you fumble with your fingers. 

“How have you been?” you ask Jeff in order to avoid another awkward silence. 

Jeff starts talking but it falls on deaf ears. You lose interest and your eyes wander around the restaurant. You can tell the patrons are struggling to keep their eyes away from your table. You don’t blame them. You were like that with Harry when you first met all those years ago. 

“Excuse me?” a timid voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you look to your left. A girl with gorgeous auburn hair stands at the foot of the table. If you had to guess, she’s at least 16. You smile gently and you quickly look over at Harry. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Hi,” you greet her with a soft smile.  

Her shoulders immediately relax and she beams at you. You hadn’t expected that. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, Y/n, but I’m a big fan. You’re an amazing actor and I love your voice. I’m hoping to go to school for musical theater like you did when I’m 18. Can I have your autograph and maybe a photo?” the girl asks you, rocking on the back of her heels. 

Your eyes widen at the teenage girl in front of you. You’ve never been approached for autographs or photos outside the theater. It shocks you, and you know Glenne, Harry, and Jeff notice. 

You nod, laughing softly. You slip out of the booth. “Yes, of course! What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Rachel,” she answers as she hands you a worn Playbill of The Phantom of the Opera. She hands you a pen and you address it to her before signing your name underneath. 

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Rachel. I’ll have my friend Glenne take the photo for us.”

Rachel hands over her phone to Glenne and you gently wrap an arm around Rachel’s torso. She does the same to you and you grin as Glenne takes plenty of photos for Rachel to look through. 

“Thank you so much! It was so night to meet you, Y/n. Have a good dinner,” Rachel says her goodbyes before hurrying back over to her table. 

You slide back into your seat and let out a soft laugh. You smile, shaking your head. Glenne and Jeff laugh too as the server comes back with your meals. 

“I can’t believe that just happened. I’ve never been stopped in public before,” you say in disbelief. 

“You just made that girl’s year,” Glenne grins, cutting into her food. 

You hum and dig into your food. You ignore the soft smile on Harry’s face as his eyes linger on you. 

After dinner, you leave the restaurant and wait patiently for Harry’s car to pull up from the valet. 

“Our hotel isn’t too far from here, so we’re going to walk back,” Glenne says, hugging you and Harry before they start walking down the street. 

Harry’s car is parked briefly in front of the restaurant and you open the door to the passenger side before climbing inside. You anxiously rub your hands together as Harry climbs inside and drives off. 

You don’t talk unless you’re directing him towards your house. It’s awkward and you’re visibly uncomfortable. Your hands run along the tops of your thighs as he pulls up to your home. He parks on the side of the road and you turn to look at him. 

“Thanks for dinner and driving me home. You didn’t have to invite me to dinner with Jeff and Glenne, but you did anyway. Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you murmur quietly, reaching for your bag and opening the car door. 

Harry reaches for your hand and you turn to look at him. You don’t pull away and Harry awkwardly lets your hand go. Something twists inside your chest. 

“You’re welcome. Goodnight, Y/n,” he says softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You climb out of the car and shut the door behind you. You practically run up the small porch steps of your home. Your hands are shaking as you unlock the door. You step inside and nearly slam the door shut behind you. You rest your back against the door and shake your head.

Locking the door, you peek through the small window as Harry drives off now that you’re in the safety of your own home. 

Your stomach twists and your hands are hot and clammy. You kick off your shoes and run up to the bathroom. Maybe a shower will fix how you’re feeling. 

It doesn’t, and you fall asleep thinking of Harry. 

[pawpadink]

Art Feedback Session - Spookydoesstuff

"Our task was to make a mock intro to a show using our own original stories, either ones we had in the past or ones we made in class. I used Adobe Animate, which isn't very traditional for art to begin with.

I wanted something dramatic and more anime-esqe (inspirations being Persona 5's 2D animation, as well as the Cowboy Beebop intro.

The render itself didn't turn out as high quality as I had hoped, but that's on me for not figuring out how to render in a higher quality. With my time crunch (I had put off working on this until I had 1 1/2 days left, on top of a project for another class.)

I feel this could have been better? But I'm satisfied with it. I just wished someone had said something, even just asking about my characters (I dont generally ask here, at least about these specific ocs, just because I've had them so long and I want to give out more of their story through context and art. But in that class no one had seen them before and I would have loved explaining their story better than just 'alien cats')"

-- Spookydoesstuff

So! Let's start with the good. The color contrast is lovely, the bright red against the monochrome is a classic high tension color combo that really sells the adversarial stress of the scene. The characters themselves each have their own unique silhouettes, which means if you just filled each of the characters in with pure black and then showed me their reference sheets I could easily identify which character is which. The line work here is very crisp and clear, which for animation lends very well to streamlining and simplifying things. Your style itself applies very nicely to an animation style, again, thanks to its general simplicity will make the whole animation process much easier than a more detailed or complex style or design.

When thinking of areas of improvement, the first thing that is brought to my attention is expression. With the four-eyed cat in the second image, at a glance it's hard to see he's furrowing his brow a bit and his current expression comes across more as a neutral expression than a concerned, worried, or frustrated expression. I would recommend here adding a bit of emphasis on the expression with the eyelids or eyebrows so that it goes into the general shape of the eye instead of just above it or add a stylized eyebrow so it is more visible against the dark fur. Due to the thin line art, the line that marks where he's furrowing his brow is hard to spot.

Your art would also benefit from expression through body language! Cats, in particular, are incredibly expressive through body language. The ears in particular here are showing no emotion- Cats when anxious, scared, or angry will pin their ears back. Perhaps a bit more emphasis on bristling fur too- in the nape of the neck and the tail. Fluffing of tails is not just fear, but also aggression when raised high or thrashing. When curved it's fear. The nervous cat in the second picture might want to be keeping her head a little lower, as nervous cats will duck down, especially if submissive. Of course, since these are not standard cats, you are welcome to take these cat behaviors and alter them to your alien culture's standards! Go wild!

Also, look into playing with the line of action a little more. Even with characters that are standing still, exaggerating some curves in their body will add a hearty dose of personality. Plus, look into the 'law' of stretch and squish- I use the term law here loosely, it's more of a guideline.

(Here are some image scans from a book called Cartoon Animation by Preston Blair, and there's a lovely tutorial on expressions from the comic Lackadaisy here!)

Next I'd like to mention the shading. There is a bit of an inconsistency between the way you shaded each character. Although lighting direction was ignored for style here, the particular techniques used for each piece should remain the same throughout each frame of an animation, each panel of a comic, or between related images in general. In the second photo, the highlights on the four-eyed cat almost looked like fur patterning, so maybe refining that highlight by making it a little darker would make it more obvious it was a highlight and not a change in fur color?

I think if you were given a little more time you would have managed with the shading, but still something of note to keep in mind for the future~

Finally I would like to address the environment... or the lack of it. The bright red background is lovely, especially in this grey scale-pop style of colors. My only issue is that it feels like they're floating in some red void- you have the darker red to denote the ground, but it doesn't feel very consistent with where the characters are placed and there's no shapes in the background to denote any kind of environment- no tree silhouettes, no building silhouettes, or any other objects that could denote where the characters are.

Above is an example from Persona 5 which kind of shows what I'm talking about. Looking at some perspective tutorials will actually show you a way you can manipulate the floor or gradients to help add some solidity to the ground. With this style I wouldn't even say you would need to add nearly as much detail to them as Persona 5's art- just some dark shapes and perhaps a gradient of sorts to give a sense of location to the scene would help.

Overall, wonderful job! My first impression was 'Oh hey this looks like something from Persona 5!' so you really got that feel you were looking for. You also immediately get a sense of relationship here- from an outsider's perspective with zero previous information on who these characters are or how they are related. You can clearly tell the four eyed cat is protecting the female cat in the back, and there's a sense of either accusation from the one-eyed cat or threat, and that the other two almost seem to be distressed as if they were once close to this character.

Keep up the good work, don't feel discouraged with the lack of feedback from your class. I really feel with a bit of practice in terms of expression and body language you can really make some great waves with your art! You have a great foundation.

In terms of art program recommendations, my wife and I both use Clip Studio Paint. You need the EX version for feature length animations unfortunately, but the PRO version is much cheaper and lets you do some very short animations however it is a very powerful illustration and comic tool as well. Krita is a totally free program that will let you animate as well and has a pretty robust illustration feature itself, but I'm not sure if it has anything specific for comic making.

A big thank you to Spookydoesstuff for being our first review and for being so pleasant to speak to! Please check out more of their art and their blog by clicking here to go to their tumblr!

[luminousbeansarewe]

wandering stars

ch 13: vigilance

pairings: none || rating: teen || characters: original characters, obi-wan kenobi, mace windu, commander ponds

tags: none

chapter list

tagged: @yourbitchystudentartist​ @lordimperius​ (message me or reply if you’d like to be tagged!)

*************************************************

Coruscant, Galactic City, Grand Army of the Republic Headquarters, 22BBY

    Obi-Wan Kenobi was making his way through the barracks, his mind crowded with concerns and plans and possibilities and questions, when he stopped in the middle of the hallway. The 212th was back for R&R; last he’d heard, every other clone unit was deployed to the field. So, when he saw a couple of clones he didn’t recognize practicing hand-to-hand in one of the rec rooms, his brow furrowed.

    Then, he felt it. Two ripples in the Force, one strong and familiar, the other weak and curious— he thought he'd felt it before, but it had been a long time ago. His keen blue eyes studied the figures as he moved closer to the window, watching a dance he’d only rarely gotten to observe before.

    When he spotted the white bun and smaller figure, he realized one of them wasn’t a clone at all. They were both in regulation blacks, crouching and circling one another intently. The trooper moved like all his brethren; his body was angular and sturdy, and despite his powerful musculature he was quick. The girl— Sol, that was her name— was more wiry, and the sinuous movements of her body never once betrayed the moment she would strike. Clones moved with energy behind every jab, kick, and block. Their high metabolisms meant that the same effort for each motion didn’t tire them, and maximized the potential that each contact would exact as much damage as possible.

    The thing that was curious to Obi-Wan was the way the Force flowed around his opponent. White lashes on her golden eyes already rendered her gaze unusual, but honed in on her target it pierced with predatory intensity; a lifelong vigilance hid behind her present focus. Unlike the clone, she had to conserve energy— and she did it well. Her strikes were precise, engineered to initiate a sequence of attacks if they landed. The Jedi’s eyes narrowed. He knew that style, that very particular strategy that this girl brought her own grace to. 

    More than that, though, the Force assisted her every move. Not to the degree a Jedi might use it. Not to push out from her strikes with concentrated effort and send the clone flying to the other side of the mat. But it seemed to carry her somehow, to hold her together. 

    Who was this girl Mace had found?

    Once Sol had managed to land an attack that ended with her opponent on his back on the mat, groaning, Obi-Wan entered the room. As he’d expected, Master Windu himself was sitting on the bench, observing. 

    “Very good,” the other Jedi said, not looking at his visitor, something of a smirk on his face. “Commander Ponds, Sol Tannor, this is General Obi-Wan Kenobi.” 

    Ponds, the clone, was on his feet and at attention in half a second. “General,” he said, giving a stiff nod to Obi-Wan. Sol, on the other hand, simply turned to face him, feet still a little wider apart and hands still in loose fists by her side. Her nod was altogether more relaxed. 

    “Master Kenobi, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Mace asked, turning to look at him while still seated. 

    “Oh, I was merely passing through on my way to the offices when I noticed your lesson, here,” Obi-Wan replied with his usual degree of easy pleasantry. 

    “Yes, I was just having Commander Ponds drill my ward in the art of hand-to-hand combat,” Mace replied, that near-smirk flickering over his face again. 

    “All due respect, sir, but I believe she was the one drilling me,” Ponds said, looking almost embarrassed. But he was clearly impressed, too. “Haven’t had a spar like that in a while.”

    “Neither me, to be fair,” Sol said to the clone. Her smile seemed uneasy on her face, like it wasn’t used to being there despite being genuine.

    “Yes, I noticed you have quite a skillset, Sol,” Obi-Wan said. “Do you mind if I ask where you learned?” 

    “My father taught me.” Pain flashed behind her eyes, gone as quickly as it came. He seemed to recall her father being a bounty hunter, before his untimely death brought her here. “Master Drallig also taught me, while I was being considered for the Temple Guard.” 

    “Ah. Well I’m sure both your father and Master Drallig would be quite proud of you,” he offered with sincerity. Another uneasy smile, a smaller nod. 

    “Master Kenobi,” Mace began, “You lead some of our finest troopers. What would you say are the most important things a leader can practice in the field?” 

    Obi-Wan eyed the other Jedi. It looked like he was being roped into augmenting the girl’s lessons for the day. Which might have been slightly annoying, if it didn’t mean that Mace was clearly invested in his ward’s success. He chased down some reasonable thoughts between all the other stirrings in his mind.

    “Well, it’s safe to say that keeping a level head is a necessity. One must be quick and adaptable. I always advise several backup plans, which my former padawan is still not particularly fond of,” he said with a slight fond chuckle that everyone else in the room was quick to share. “And, always look after one’s men. Losses are part of war, but negligence is poor leadership.”

    “Ponds, would you agree?” Mace asked his commander.

    “Yes, sir,” Ponds replied with a nod. “On every point.”

    “Anything to add?” 

    “It helps to know when to be hard and when to boost morale, sir. That can depend on the squad or troop, though. And being with your men on the line will get you their respect quicker than anything.” 

    “Thank you, gentlemen,” Mace told them, and then his gaze fell back onto his ward. “I’m gleaning wisdom for you from everyone I can, Sol, but Lightning Squad is heading back out in two days. I’m afraid that the war is spreading much quicker than we hoped.” 

    “I understand, Master,” Sol replied.

    “I’ve always said you learn more quickly on the field,” Obi-Wan chimed in. “Perhaps you might accompany your master on his deployment.”

    All three of the other faces in the room looked uncomfortable. Ponds the most-- one could fathom why a commando might not prefer a rookie, even a well-trained one, under his wing on a mission. Sol simply seemed worried she wasn’t ready. Mace, though, was a little more opaque.

    “I think Sol requires more training,” he said after a moment, looking between her and Obi-Wan. “Particularly regarding working on a team, which is critical for leading soldiers.” 

    The bearded Jedi blinked, surprised for a moment. He hadn’t heard about the plan to put the girl on the field in a command position. That would be a rushed effort, for certain. The general level of panic about resources was a static buzz in the very air on Coruscant, these days. 

    “I see,” he said, stroking his beard. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised, if joining the Guard hadn’t worked out (and evidently it hadn’t.) Combat certainly fell well within her skillset. “Ponds, I feel your recommendation might be better than mine for this. Clones are unsurpassed in their teamwork, commandos especially.” 

    “Thank you, sir,” Ponds nodded. “I still say you might send her to Kamino. It’s the finest military training in the galaxy, after all,” he said with a glance at Mace. But the other Jedi’s frown deepened. 

    “I’m still not certain. But I’ve taken your suggestion under advisement, don’t worry.” 

    “Yes, sir.” 

    “Well, I’m sorry to depart so soon, but I’ve got to speak with Cody. We’ll also be shipping out in two days, or sooner if things on Thule continue the way they have,” Obi-Wan said soberly. He bowed to Mace, and then to Ponds and Sol. “Good luck, all of you. Sol, I look forward to your future.”

    She seemed surprised, but every emotion was ever just a passing shadow on her otherwise stoic face. “Vor’e— thank you, Master,” she said with that nod. Obi-Wan smiled, and saw himself out the door. As he continued along the halls, he couldn’t help but feel a little sadness for the girl. Whatever Mandalorian heritage she had— and she certainly had some, fighting the way she did— was obviously stripped away from her. It seemed there was no place for her inside the Jedi Temple. And now, her guide seemed to have no idea what to do with her. He hoped faintly that she might find her home somewhere, and regretted that it might end up being in the battlefield. 

    But this was war, and he had no time to fret over things he couldn’t fix— as though Anakin being knighted and war blossoming like wildfire across the galaxy weren’t enough of that. So he strode onward, and his trouble in mind went with him. 

[steveusesfaberge]

Better Parent (pt. ii)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: The kids have their loving mother and...uhh...other mother...take them to the Wheelers’ house; an advice filled car ride later - and some quality time with his favorite girl.... and it ends with a shifty scheme crafted by only the best intentions, and two teens not doing the babysitting they were assigned to do...wonderful. Sounds just like another day for Harrington!

Type/Style: Imagine, female pronouns

Warning(s): Fluff~, momma Steve, heed all warnings… Oh, and a bit of cursing! >.<

Word Count: +4,100

a/n: The is part two to Better Parent and with that being said, I hope you all enjoy!

Part 1 - Part 2 (you are here) - Part 3

Please send requests! I’m excited to write for you all! <3

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

“Hey--”

“Move over, your ass is in my lap!”

“Hello?”

“What?! You're practically in my seat!”

“Is anyone even listening to--”

“Stop it guys - don’t push!”

“Hey! Dickheads! Would you all quit it? Goddamn, why didn’t one of you go with Y/N like she suggested?” Steve growled while trying not to crash the car. The boys had all decided they’d tumble into his car...leaving a party of three merrily skipping to the other teenager’s car...it wasn’t like there was anything wrong with it! - Y/N’s car was actually quite nice; she took care of it and even had a better radio than Steve...

“Because then we’d be alone with all that estrogen...not happening, Harrington,” Lucas spoke up while giving Mike a hard shove to his side. Will was groaning in annoyance as his friends jostled him to be pressed harshly to the car door. While Dustin happily was messing with the stereo (when he’d called shotgun - and Steve allowed it, Y/N had claimed it was ‘favoritism amongst their six babies who she, as the better parent, loved equally. Thus, no one would be sitting passenger in her car. Steve figured that’s why none of the boys wanted to go, being squeezed between El and Max might not be ideal...though Harrington knew better. Y/N liked playing her own music, and with a grubby hand like Dustin’s all over the radio - her rule had been set long before she became a mom).

“Mhm, sure,” Steve grumbled while rubbing his temple, already regretting agreeing to this. It wasn’t like it was a long ride back to Mike’s house - but goddamn did these knuckleheads make it feel like it... “Tell me that again when you’re not off sucking faces with Max,” the older boy was praised with ohs and ahs as he snapped the remark at Sinclair.

“At least I have a girlfriend,” Lucas defended, earning his own audience of noise.

“A-hahhhh, and what the hell is that supposed to mean, asshole?” Steve jabbed while resting his elbow on the rim of his window, it had been rolled down because all the movement in the car had it feel like a damn sauna. Dustin was still messing with his radio, flipping channels and making the music louder when Steve had specifically told him to turn it down. He slapped the said boy’s hand away and scolded him briefly,” Hands off, Henderson - how many times do I have to say it? It’s distracting me - do you want to die?” He exhaled slowly, trying not to pull the car over and kick each out to the side of the road. Either having to walk the rest of the way or ask Y/N.

“I mean - I have the balls to even kiss a girl - or are you and girly Henderson dating without us knowing?” Lucas drilled, earning a head nod from Mike, and an eye-roll from Will who just wanted to get to the house (he was more interested in DnD than how poorly Steve’s love life was going).

Steve abruptly stopped the car. He heard Y/N slamming on the breaks, a honk of her horn and the muffled sound of her cursing him off for such a dangerous stunt. He ignored it though, deciding to deal with the consequences later. Luckily, there wasn’t anyone behind Y/N to backend her (he wasn’t dumb enough to do such a thing with precious cargo...).

“What? You know how many girls I’ve kissed? How many I’ve made out with? Huh? Do you forget who I am?” He wiped his chin and shook his head with a defensive blush finding his face. He took a breath in and exhaled with a more composed manner. He tried to ignore the way the boys in the back held their laughter in, and definitely, decided to ignore the way Dustin watched them all in confusion (dumbass didn’t even see the way Steve looked at his sister).

“Me and Y/N...are not a thing. We’re not together, we’re not a couple, we’re not an item,” he drawled while shaking his head. After a few moments of silence, the boys clearly conflicted on to continue laughing or feel bad for the way Steve’s tone dropped off at the end of his sentence.

He started down the road again, both hands gripping the wheel tightly; his eyes never leaving the windshield. His ears painted pink.

“You...you guys know this,” he mumbled while shaking his head once more, flipping Y/N off in his rearview mirror.

“I know but--,” Mike was cut off with a soft sigh from Harrington.

“I-I can’t. Okay? Is that what you wanna hear from me? That...that I know I’m not good enough for her? That...I’m scared if I told her, she’d swallow me whole and I’d never be able to look her in the eyes?” The desperate drag of his tone was obvious (maybe Y/N was right; he’d stooped to King Steve level of desperation...not for other girls...but...to just get a chance with her...anything...anything...he’d do anything).

The rest of the ride was filled with the boys in the back, coming up with love advice for Steve. Ask her out, just do it - be confident! Write her a letter. Tell her she looks nice. Ask her if she wants a boyfriend. Tell her she’s hot. Oh, what about showing her-- they’d reached the Wheeler estate and as they began unbuckling and getting ready to leave the car (thank the Lord, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take), and Dustin - who had been silent the majority of the ride finally spoke.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” He sputtered while his eyebrows furrowed in utter shock and confusion.

Steve rolled his eyes, and pushed his door open, calling over his shoulder,” I like your sister, dude. We’ve established this like....thirty-six times. Catch up, dipshit.” All embarrassment he had earlier had washed away, being replaced with a bubbling feeling of nerves and doubt. The boys were trying to be nice, do their best...but...they were all awkward preteens...their advice was as good as Steve consulting a Magic 8-Ball.

Inside the house, before trucking to Mike’s basement - Dustin dragged Steve to the kitchen, his mind still trying to figure out what had been revealed (or more so, finally brought up as Steve’s feelings for Y/N had always been the weird, pink-polka-dotted elephant in the room).

“What’re you doing? - They’ll start without you--,” Steve was hushed as Dustin slapped his hand to his mouth.

“My sister?” Dustin whisper-shouted. Steve rolled his eyes for the nth time and tugged Henderson’s grip from his face.

“Yeah, dingus - we’ve been over this--,”

“But my sister...Steve...why?” Dustin wasn’t sure how he felt about it clearly, and it only made Steve more nervous. That feeling that sunk into his bones, not a good one. Of course, if he were going to date Y/N...he’d need his best friend’s (and favorite child’s) permission.

“Whaddya want me to say! She’s like...the only girl I hang out with that’s my age, besides Robin, that I don’t mind,” Steve paused,” Might I remind you - Robin’s not into dudes.” It was almost sad how his social life had crumbled along with his desire to capture anyone else’s attention but Y/N’s (and of course, he’d tried to push those feelings aside for the sake of your friendship...but...it never worked).

Dustin was quiet; longer than Steve would’ve liked, as sitting in the soft silence was nervewracking. The curly-haired sibling stood, arms crossed, eyes clouded with thought as he rubbed his chin. Steve tapped his foot, leaning on the kitchen countertop as he waited, pinching the bridge of his nose. God, this kid’s such a headache...

“Dusty - Will told me, to tell you, that if you don’t go down now, you’ll be left out,” Y/N was just turning the corner when she spotted the pair in the kitchen, seeming as if they were in quite the predicament. 

“Is this a private moment...or?” she spoke slowly, a tease to her words.

“N-No! I was...just...telling Steve that...um...,” his attention now on the older boy who had a hand ruffling through his hair for any imperfections (though who was he kidding? Harrington had the best head of hair in Hawkins).

“I was telling him if he doesn’t do it...I’ll...be disappointed...guy stuff,” Dustin gave Harrington a sincere half-grin and there was obviously a conversation to be held later (but Y/N’s appearance lead Dustin to keep his mouth shut for now).

“Really?” Steve asked, his brows raised as he took the boy’s words in.

“Yeah...yeah...just...don’t do something weird in front of me,” Dustin lowered his voice as he spoke the last bit.

“Alright, enough bro-talk, Dusty - get going and leave the adults to talk.” Y/N rolled her eyes; ruffling his hair as he passed by.

It was just the two of them, and Steve was trying not to do something stupid. Walking forward, he felt his body involuntarily tense up as she moved to stand a few feet from him - though a few feet was more than enough to render his mind as blank as all hell. His body completely useless now...

Don’t do something stupid. Don’t do something stupid. Don’t do something stupid. Don’t do something stupid. Don’t do something stupid....

“Did you want to do something while they messed around? Like catch a movie or--,” Y/N was interrupted by the blubbering fool before her.

“Your letter - uh, looks nice -- I mean, it looks hot! No - wait...that...that didn’t come out right.” Steve’s outburst granted an unsure look from her. Please just kill me now...did...did I say that? Well...all logic had found its way out the nearest fucking window...

“What?” Was all Y/N said while waiting for Steve with furrowed brows.

He covered his eyes, his free hand waving around for a dazed second as he tried to get the proper words out. Breathe...be natural...be confident....don’t fuck it up like that again, Harrington.

“I meant to say - you look nice,” he paused,” And to answer your question, why don’t we just go down and um...finally settle the score?” That...was...better.

Y/N shrugged, nodding as she reached for his hand. At that moment, Steve’s heart flatlined and he was sure he was now staring at an angel as she dragged him across the house, to the basement. “Sounds good - be prepared because momma ain’t leavin’ without her babies’ approval,” Steve could only nod to the back of her head as she spoke such fighting words.

If you asked Steve Harrington at the beginning of high school - what he thought about spending his free-time with six underaged dweebs who all were too smart-assy for their own good, and got themselves in trouble with hell (literally)...he’d have laughed and told you, you were as delusional as Byers.

If you asked the Steve Harrington the same question now - he’d look around at the six underaged dweebs shouting and arguing around a table laid out with character sheets, figurines, and dice... He’d laugh at their quick remarks and their tendency to use foul language, and he’d smile. Steve would’ve congratulated Byers’ brother for being the best Dungeon Master, the world had to offer.

If you told him, roughly five years after high school - he’d be seated on a busted sofa, in his ex’s basement, coke loosely held in one hand, the other pushing a pretty girl’s head away from him in a teasing manner...he’d...well..he’d not believe you. Because you’d describe the girl as someone so...amazing, so incomparable, that he’d think you’d made her up. You’d say that she was so breathtaking, that if you were in the same space as her for too long - you’d die from a lack of oxygen. That she had the most stunning y/c/e eyes he’d ever have the perquisite of seeing, and they’d have him chasing her for ages...having him choke on his own spit when she looked at him. Not to mention, the heartstopping laugh she’d have...the kind of laugh that had any guy (not just dorky Harrington) fall harder than he thought possible. Finding himself in an endless fall that put even Alice’s rabbit hole tumble to shame. She’d have a melody that had him trip over his words and stumble to find his footing. Yeah...Steve would not have believed you.

And yet, here he was...watching six dweebs play Dungeons and Dragons; with a girl he was madly in love with - more perfect than words could offer, sitting on a busted sofa, in his ex’s basement, no more than a foot between them...

“I’m tellin’ you, Steves - I’m the better parent, because the girls love me, and the boys worship me,” Y/N explained while pulling an L up to her forehead. Steve scoffed and waved her off.

“Actually - I don’t worship you, I worship Steve for giving me his hair secre--,”

Steve began snapping with his left hand, shaking his head and glaring. “Hey, hey, hey! Shithead - you swore on your life, you’d never say jackshit about that!” Dustin threw his hands out in silent defense.

“Sorry, I was just standing up for y--,” Steve shook his head once more, blowing him off with a puff of his cheeks. “Remember what I said? One peep - and your ass, yeah the one you’re sitting on now, is grass, Henderson. Grass.”

The gang began laughing at Steve’s overprotective outburst of his “best feature”. The brunette only tsked, mumbling obscenities.

“That wasn’t very better parent material, Steve,” Max snickered while El whispered something in her ear.

“Aye! No whispering under my watch - if you have a secret, you can say it aloud in front of the family,” he stressed with fake authority.

“But you just told Dustin--,” “Eleven - I don’t need a smartass.” Steve pursed his lips.

The kids eventually settled back down, getting sucked into their fantasy world once more without a second glance to the pair on the sofa. Y/N was clamping a hand to her mouth, trying not to let the amusement slip from her lips. She loved seeing Steve with the kids - he was so....dorky and sweet in his own way...saying so, she could almost admit she loved h--

“What’re you laughing at, Ms. Not-the-best-parent-because-you-suck-and-don’t-have-great-ass-hair?” Steve hissed in a low tone. His eyes watching the way Y/N’s flickered with happiness and one emotion he couldn’t quite place.

“You’re wrong for two reasons, Harrington,” she mused.

“Enlighten me,” he replied, leaning to have only a few inches between the two of you. It had been on a fleeting moment of confidence, leaving Y/N with a bright red glow - and Steve with a dumb grin. He wasn’t sure if he was proud of it, or extremely embarrassed...he settled to let her finish instead.

“Well, one: you’re not the better parent. I am,” Y/N pinched his cheek, to which he tried to back out of, but she only squeezed harder, leaving Steve to let out a grievance of annoyance as she tugged him back to listen.

“And two: your hair isn’t that great. I mean--” Steve gasped in a dramatic hurt. Falling from her grip and bending over her lap like a speared body. “Stop! Right there, don’t finish that sentence...you’ll ruin everything I’ve worked for.” he pleaded. His tongue sticking out his mouth as if he’d ‘died’.

Y/N giggled watching his childish act and rolling her eyes, a good-natured smile on her lips. She brushed a hand through his hair and spoke in an exaggerated tone,” I’m so sorry, Steves, please forgive--,” in the time of her talking, Steve had lifted a hand and silenced her with the odd hand-motion that looked like a duck, then grabbed her wrist and removed her hand from his scalp.

“You don’t get the privilege to touch my great ass hair, even if I’m dead.” He mumbled, stifled by her lap. Even though in actuality, he loved the feeling and knew if she didn’t stop he’d fall asleep.

“Oh, get over yourself,” Y/N proclaimed while attempting to shove the limp body of Steve Harrington from her own. “Nuhu,” he murmured.

Watching the two teenagers fall all over one another, the six children held back their gags.

“It’s so sad,” Max mumbled.

“Yeah, so sad I can’t focus on this raid,” Lucas agreed while knocking his head against the table.

“It’s like watching two blind...like very blind bats try, and make love.” Mike spewed.

“Thanks for the visual,” Will snorted.

“I think it’s sweet.” Everyone looked to El as she shrugged with a sheepish look.

“What? Steve...he likes her. Why is that bad?” She grabbed Mike’s hand. “I like Mike. Mike likes me - why is Steve and Y/N any different?”

The idea hit them like a ton of bricks...or, maybe it was the obnoxious laughter of their favorite Henderson (to Dustin’s protest) being tickled by Harrington, that snapped them into realization.

Steve was basically, on top of her. His hands running down her sides as she squirmed, refusing to apologize for saying she was better than him, and that his hair wasn’t anything special... While it was cringe-worthy on every level (according to a sulking brother), it was...sweet.

Y/N had a smile on her lips that they’d never really seen before - save for when Harrington entered the room. It was like he said the funniest thing without really having to say anything at all...like Steve brought out the best in her without having to lift a finger. Stomach in knots when he called her name...it was that kind of smile that Steve was able to bring out.

As for Harrington himself? His smile remained even after she left. Having spent a whole day with her - the party would catch him grinning to himself like a madman while helping them put away their game set-up. They’d catch him repeating things he’d said that happened to make Y/N smile the way he loved... It was the kind of look that you couldn’t replicate, even if you tried...only if you knew the feeling - could you do so.

Realizing this, Dustin yelled and groaned silently in his head (half disgust and half reluctant understanding). Steve, you owe me big time for this...

“Fine,” he whispered, catching everyone’s gaze but the two still messing bout on the sofa. “What’s the plan?”

“You’re s-such a l-loserrrr!” Y/N slurred while trying to struggle free of the handsome boy before her. Steve knew she had a soft spot for being so sensitive - he’d figured it out one time when she almost knocked him out on accident...(it ended with a lot of apologizing on your part, while also laughing as he held a bag of frozen peas to his face to avoid any swelling...)

“Admit it, and I’ll stop,” Steve tried to sound as serious as possible, failing utterly as Y/N’s y/c/h was splayed out like a crooked halo. Truly an angel...if anything, he wasn’t sure what he’d done in his (not so great) lifetime to earn the graces of such a human as you...good God...

Catching his gaze, Y/N shook her head (her halo only following her as any good angels’ would). “I-I...haha...will...n-never...a-admit...a-a lie!”

Steve only clicked his tongue. Sighing with a shake of his head. “I guess you’ll suffer until the end of time then, huh?”

After a few more minutes of torture (which Steve called, making sure Y/N had gotten her daily dose of laughter - as it was the best medicine and he didn’t need her falling ill any time soon, because...well...he didn’t have any apples on deck), he stopped, finally allowing her a breath of stability. He scooted down so he could cross his arms over her stomach, half his face buried there as he watched her collect herself.

It was moments like these that Steve truly cherished the most...he wondered if Y/N had the same mindset.

Because he’d honestly, never felt so good with anyone - not even with Nancy, who admittedly, was someone he’d actually held some feelings for (of course, the emotions Y/N threw at him had always overshadowed them, but Wheeler breaking his heart didn’t hurt any less). Steve had never wanted to give someone the world - mainly because it was impossible - but he knew that if Y/N simply suggested that such an action would, make her even smile for a few seconds...he’d figure out a way to do it within the next twenty-four hours.

You know, you’re like really pretty. Do you know what you do to me, Y/N? Is what Steve so hopelessly wanted to say, but he didn’t, instead, settling for a much simpler version.

“You wouldn’t be able to pull off this hair like I do...which is why...if you really wanted me to, I’d teach you my ways,” it came out as a harsh whisper of sorts - his jaw not having much movement as it was pressed to the crook of his elbow, both arms still rested on Y/N’s abdomen.

She laughed, and it sent a vibration through his body as he was rested atop her - only resulting in a chuckle of his own. The same wave taking ahold of Y/N, as Harrington’s chest rose and fell with each quick, shortened breath.

It was like they were in their own little world...too bad Dustin throwing a pillow at Steve’s head had to ruin it.

“So, we’ve come to a conclusion...,” Dustin explained, watching Harrington awkwardly try and sit up off his sister - Steve’s face burning up. Though, Y/N was in no better condition...her hands found her neck and her cheeks were a lovely shade of sunset.

“Oh, yeah?” Steve hummed while glancing at a nearby digital clock. “It better not be something crazy - ‘cause it’s almost ten o’clock and I think some of you need to get home.” Y/N nodded in agreement, leaning over and using her hand as a terrible shield,” Nice one...trying to act all momma bear like...I think they’ll definitely say you’re the better parent now.” “Har, har. Your sarcasm wasn’t necessary, Henderson,” Steve noted while flicking her forehead.

“We all need to go upstairs,” El suddenly directed. A hand raising to point, as if proving her sentence true.

Steve froze, unsure of where this was exactly going...but seeing as El usually had only good things to say...and a good intention...he nodded, words slow as he spoke,” Okay...okay...we’ll go upstairs then.”

They all marched up, like eight odd ants in a line - and when Mike suggested they watch a movie before Steve and Y/N drove them all home; it was quickly unanimous (which was a hard deal, as both teenagers knew getting six hardheaded children to agree on something was worse than trying to get Billy Hargrove to turn down a pretty face and a tight dress).

“Uh, ‘kay then...I guess we’re watching...a movie now,” Steve mumbled, trying to figure out the sudden change in pace. He was sure they hadn’t even finished their round, or match...or whatever they called it (he had only tried to play DnD once and...well...that’s a story for another time).

“I’ll see if there are any blankets, Mike, would you mind seeing if there’s any popcor--,” “Oh....you’re not watching the movie...did you think you’d be watching it with us?” Was Wheeler’s response.

Six shit-eating grins and twelve hands shoving a Scoops Ahoy employee and a caring older sister out the front door later...and Steve found himself standing on the porch of Mike Wheeler’s house - the kids he and Y/N were supposed to be watching having locked them out, without their wallets or keys...or even a hint at what they were doing outside in the, now cool summer night...

“Great going Steve,” was all she said while staring at the closed door.

He whipped around on her and glared while crossing his arms.

“Wha-- me?! I don’t remember you helping with, I dunno...six dipshits shoving us out the damn house!”

“I didn’t think I needed to...Mr. Better Than Me...I was clearly wrong.” Y/N smirked.

Steve couldn’t even be fake mad for long. It ended with the pair laughing and shaking their heads, clutching their stomachs and asking for the kids to let them back in. Without an answer...Steve questioned what this was all about; remembering the boys giving him (crappy) advice on how to ask Y/N out. I mean...this is one way to force a guy between a rock and a hard place...

“Screw it, screw them, screw babysitting - screw this,” Harrington lamented. “No cars, but we got legs...wanna just go for a walk until our meddling kids decide to let their old folk back in?” He was going out on a limb, but...he couldn’t help it. Her presence was just so damn addicting...he wanted as much as he could get without having to pay the price of embarrassment just yet.

“Sure, Steve, sure.” with a gentle smile and a giggle...that was all the hype he needed to take her hand and pull her from the stoop.

“Well, m’lady - then let me lead the way.”

---

Hm...I can’t help but want more to this....partttttt 3 anyone? >.<

[studioserra]

A Brief History of Photography: The Beginning

Photography. An art form invented in 1830s, becoming publicly recognised ten years later.

Today, photography is the largest growing hobby in the world, with the hardware alone creating a multi-billion dollar industry. Not everyone knows what camera obscura or even shutter speed is, nor have many heard of Henri Cartier-Bresson or even Annie Leibovitz.

In this article, we take a step back and take a look at how this fascinating technique was created and developed.

Before Photography: Camera Obscura

Before photography was created, people had figured out the basic principles of lenses and the camera. They could project the image on the wall or piece of paper, however no printing was possible at the time: recording light turned out to be a lot harder than projecting it. The instrument that people used for processing pictures was called the Camera Obscura (which is Latin for the dark room) and it was around for a few centuries before photography came along.

It is believed that Camera Obscura was invented around 13-14th centuries, however there is a manuscript by an Arabian scholar Hassan ibn Hassan dated 10th century that describes the principles on which camera obscura works and on which analogue photography is based today.

Camera Obscura is essentially a dark, closed space in the shape of a box with a hole on one side of it. The hole has to be small enough in proportion to the box to make the camera obscura work properly. Light coming in through a tiny hole transforms and creates an image on the surface that it meets, like the wall of the box. The image is flipped and upside down, however, which is why modern analogue cameras have made use of mirrors.

In the mid 16th century, Giovanni Battista della Porta, an Italian scholar, wrote an essay on how to use camera obscura to make the drawing process easier. He projected the image of people outside the camera obscura on the canvas inside of it (camera obscura was a rather big room in this case) and then drew over the image or tried to copy it.

The process of using camera obscura looked very strange and frightening for the people at those times. Giovanni Battista had to drop the idea after he was arrested and prosecuted on a charge of sorcery.

Even though only few of the Renaissance artists admitted they used camera obscura as an aid in drawing, it is believed most of them did. The reason for not openly admitting it was the fear of being charged of association with occultism or simply not wanting to admit something many artists called cheating.

Today we can state that camera obscura was a prototype of the modern photo camera. Many people still find it amusing and use it for artistic reasons or simply for fun.

The First Photograph

Installing film and permanently capturing an image was a logical progression.

The first photo picture—as we know it—was taken in 1825 by a French inventor Joseph Nicéphore Niépce. It records a view from the window at Le Gras.

The exposure had to last for eight hours, so the sun in the picture had time to move from east to west appearing to shine on both sides of the building in the picture.

Niepce came up with the idea of using a petroleum derivative called "Bitumen of Judea" to record the camera's projection. Bitumen hardens with exposure to light, and the unhardened material could then be washed away. The metal plate, which was used by Niepce, was then polished, rendering a negative image that could be coated with ink to produce a print. One of the problems with this method was that the metal plate was heavy, expensive to produce, and took a lot of time to polish.

Photography Takes Off

In 1839, Sir John Herschel came up with a way of making the first glass negative. The same year he coined the term photography, deriving from the Greek "fos" meaning light and "grafo"—to write. Even though the process became easier and the result was better, it was still a long time until photography was publicly recognized.

At first, photography was either used as an aid in the work of an painter or followed the same principles the painters followed. The first publicly recognized portraits were usually portraits of one person, or family portraits. Finally, after decades of refinements and improvements, the mass use of cameras began in earnest with Eastman's Kodak's simple-but-relatively-reliable cameras. Kodak's camera went on to the market in 1888 with the slogan "You press the button, we do the rest".

In 1900 the Kodak Brownie was introduced, becoming the first commercial camera in the market available for middle-class buyers. The camera only took black and white shots, but still was very popular due to its efficiency and ease of use.

Color Photography

Color photography was explored throughout the 19th century, but didn't become truly commercially viable until the middle of the 20th century. Prior to this, color could not preserved for long; the images quickly degraded. Several methods of color photography were patented from 1862 by two French inventors: Louis Ducos du Hauron and Charlec Cros, working independently.

The first practical color plate reached the market in 1907. The method it used was based on a screen of filters. The screen let filtered red, green and/or blue light through and then developed to a negative, later reversed to a positive. Applying the same screen later on in the process of the print resulted in a color photo that would be preserved. The technology, even though slightly altered, is the one that is still used in the processing. Red, green and blue are the primary colors for television and computer screens, hence the RGB modes in numerous imaging applications.

The first color photo, an image of a tartan ribbon (above), was taken in 1861 by the famous Scottish physicist James Clerk Maxwell, who was famous for his work with electromagnetism. Despite the great influence his photograph had on the photo industry, Maxwell is rarely remembered for this as his inventions in the field of physics simply overshadowed this accomplishment.

The First Photograph With People

The first ever picture to have a human in it was Boulevard du Temple by Louis Daguerre, taken in 1838. The exposure lasted for about 10 minutes at the time, so it was barely possible for the camera to capture a person on the busy street, however it did capture a man who had his shoes polished for long enough to appear in the photo.

Notables in Photography

At one time, photography was an unusual and perhaps even controversial practice. If not for the enthusiasts who persevered and indeed, pioneered, many techniques, we might not have the photographic styles, artists, and practitioners we have today. Here are just a few of the most influential people we can thank for many of the advances in photography.

Alfred Stieglitz

Photography became a part of day-to-day life and an art movement. One of the people behind photography as art was Alfred Stieglitz, an American photographer and a promoter of modern art.

Stieglitz said that photographers are artists. He, along with F. Holland Day, led the Photo-Secession, the first photography art movement whose primary task was to show that photography was not only about the subject of the picture but also the manipulation by the photographer that led to the subject being portrayed.

Stieglitz set up various exhibitions where photos were judged by photographers. Stieglitz also promoted photography through newly established journals such "Camera Notes" and "Camera Work".

Example of Stieglitz's Work

Gaspard-Félix Tournachon (Felix Nadar)

Felix Nadar (a pseudonym of Gaspard-Félix Tournachon) was a French caricaturist, journalist and—once photography emerged—a photographer. He is most famous for pioneering the use of artificial lightning in photography. Nadar was a good friend of Jules Verne and is said to have inspired Five Weeks in a Balloon after creating a 60 metre high balloon named Le Géant (The Giant). Nadar was credited for having published the first ever photo interview in 1886.

Nadar's portraits followed the same principles of a fine art portrait. He was known for depicting many famous people including Jules Verne, Alexander Dumas, Peter Kropotkin and George Sand.

Example of Nadar's Work

Henri Cartier-Bresson

Henri Cartier-Bresson was a French photographer who is most famous for creating the "street photography" style of photojournalism, using the new compact 35mm format (which we still use today). Around the age of 23, he became very interested in photography and abandoned painting for it. "I suddenly understood that a photograph could fix eternity in an instant," he would later explain. Strangely enough, he would take his first pictures all around the world but avoided his native France. His first exhibition took place in New York's Julien Levy Gallery in 1932. Cartier-Bresson's first journalistic photos were taken at the George VI coronation in London however none of those portrayed the King himself.

The Frenchman's works have influenced generations of photo artists and journalists around the world. Despite being narrative in style, his works can also be seen as iconic artworks. Despite all the fame and impact, there are very few pictures of the man. He hated being photographed, as he was embarrassed of his fame.

Example of Cartier-Bresson's Work

Check This Link To Know More About Photography : https://bit.ly/39Rpdsc

[liray-stylespk]

The Smart Trick of Mens Winter Jackets 2021 That No One is Discussing

Who reported down jackets can’t be trendy? Not us. And definitely not Tommy Hilfiger. Whether you’re mountaineering or heading to the bar for two or three beverages, this Extremely-Loft Packable Puffer Jacket received’t watch out of position. The quilted-brick outer shell and high quality stitching seriously established this jacket besides the Many others on this list. Together with A huge number of five-star ratings concerning them, the choices outlined down below even have numerous rave critiques detailing how effectively they withstood frigid temperatures and blizzard-like problems. Every conceivable variety and elegance of down jacket is available today from The best generic versions to These emanating from the world’s best-identified fashion properties. Below, we’re going to take a look at twenty from the best down jackets for guys. FashionBeans E-newsletter Join to our publication to obtain the latest article content, lookbooks, Road style & fashion voucher codes direct to the inbox: The jacket is taken into account light-weight as well as the shell is h2o-resistant. For a thing even more formidable from Andrew Marc, the Cumberland down jacket encompasses a coyote trim detachable hood. Our Climasense fiber fusion engineering is engineered to warm you up when you're chilly and cool you down while you are incredibly hot, keeping best temperature and humidity. Maintaining Your entire body temperature precisely Even though it is not absolutely the warmest and won't change any heads with its model, it provides reputable general performance in all of our examination metrics, rendering it the jacket we attained for quite possibly the most. The Camosun is a costly piece of equipment, and that's almost certainly its major drawback. In absolutely the coldest of temps, this model could also be outmatched. In Individuals ailments, and if income is not any object, check out the Canada Goose Expedition or the Feathered Good friends Khumbu Parka. Browse review: Arc'teryx Camosun Parka Having an exterior made out of ultralight, water-resistant cloth, and an 800-fill electrical power goose down filling, it’s super heat and weighs Virtually practically nothing. As opposed to less expensive jackets, it doesn’t Enable any wind throughout the zip, due to the constructed-in wind flap. You’ll also detect which you get an entire variety of motion with your arms because of the angel-wing motion. Irrespective of its trim overall look, the Arc'teryx Camosun may be very heat, owing to overall body-mapped down and artificial insulation. What's more, it sports a waterproof/breathable membrane and taped seams. Artisans commit several hours utilizing our Exclusive getting older procedure to offer this Naval Aviator’s Flight Jacket the appear and feel of two hundred carrier landings Every single sew of this jacket is place there to circumvent the elements from attending to you. Tested and genuine, you will fall in enjoy with this jacket the next you slide it on. It’s time for you to stage out in design and style, emotion superior and intensely warm concurrently. It’s time to possess Carhartt in your daily life. And For additional top quality solutions such as this, have a look at our guideline for the best waxed canvas jackets. On the whole, the more safety a jacket delivers, the Best Mens Jogger Pants greater it expenses. The best values are jackets that complete very well within our evaluation classes in addition to are priced around The underside on the pack. Searching for the best winter jacket in 2020? Soon after hand-tests almost 50 winter coats during the last 7 yrs, we a short while ago acquired fifteen with the best jackets for any demanding aspect-by-facet comparison. Our tests crew hunkered down in below-freezing temperatures for months at a time and braved each method of precipitation imaginable, from freezing rain to fluffy snowflakes.

    * What will you be undertaking with your jacket? If you’re carrying out plenty of transferring in your jacket— perhaps you’re skiing, possibly you’re chopping Wooden, possibly you’re carrying out lawn do the job — you might want a lighter jacket which you can clear away when it receives far too heat. “Specialized jackets no longer should be hardy and sturdy; anything which can be off-Placing for wearers,” states Harrods general items supervisor Simon Longland. “The innovation in specialized jackets implies a puffer may be worn like any other coat might be – Similarly excellent over a suit on the weekday, or with a knit and boots with jeans for the weekend.” Cold weather conditions is unpleasant more than enough. Your winter parka does not have to become. The vast majority of designs we reviewed make braving the wind and chilly considerably less depressing, but some are bulky and heavy, earning your journey through a storm seem like a lot more of a load.   However most winter jackets are just water-resistant, which really should suffice If your weather conditions is often about freezing temperatures and you'll only knowledge dry snow. The parka jacket was invented by Inuits (and at first made out of supplies like sealskin) is a testomony into the coat’s inherent capability to conduct in Serious temperature. But modern day versions have also bought on the lookout damn superior down to a great artwork, way too. A mod favorite in the course of the nineteen sixties and afterwards a beacon of Britpop, the parka has actually been revived in latest seasons, earning its location as One of the more multipurpose kinds. The Expedition Parka is a comfortable parka with the coldest weather, designed with Arctic and Antarctic applications in your mind. On that Notice, a Exclusive Polar Bears Global (PBI) edition is out there. This Model comes in a royal blue shade, using a polar bear patch on the shoulder, and lists at a slightly better selling price. A portion of the sales goes to PBI and their mission to save lots of polar bears and their habitats. Even though it is not the absolute warmest and would not turn any heads with its design, it provides responsible efficiency in all of our take a look at metrics, rendering it the jacket we reached for essentially the most. The Camosun is a costly piece of equipment, and that's in Heavy Winter Jacket Mens all probability its major drawback. In absolutely the coldest of temps, this product is also outmatched. In those circumstances, and if dollars isn't any object, check out the Canada Goose Expedition or perhaps the Feathered Mates Khumbu Parka. Study assessment: Arc'teryx Camosun Parka When it remains to be not mid-duration, this jacket still has an elongated healthy, preserving its thickness and sturdiness all through the design. It characteristics reflective and water-resistant technological know-how and is also totally seam sealed, but the jacket also consists of Omni-Tech breathability to help you layer underneath without the need of sensation far too constrained. But don’t Feel it’s all about fashion. It’s full of extremely-loft faux down insulation, which makes it super heat. It even has an attached hood that’s expertly hidden inside the collar, so you’re geared up for all temperature.  Although it follows the same layout on the CAT jacket, the Arctix Functionality Tundra Jacket has quite a few eye-catching characteristics, exclusive to this jacket although also maintaining its compact and realistic style and design. Involving The 2 of these, they have ventured on a total of six expeditions to Denali, together with many journeys on the Andes, Canadian Rockies, and Alaskan mountains. They know very well what it means to brave the worst weather conditions on the planet, whether climbing and skiing the most significant mountains around the globe or shoveling the driveway for the duration of a blizzard. They may have the expertise and expertise To judge Each individual jacket and figure out how it stands approximately authentic-environment use. “If you intend to wear a person predominantly over a suit during the 7 days, then black or midnight blue will search far more polished.” The upright collar keeps the wind off your neck and The easy, elegant traces make this down jacket great for the pizza joint or maybe the opera. For the ones that like their fashion unembellished. Be sure you also consider our listing of the best Gentlemen’s peacoats For additional fantastic merchandise such as this. The Columbia Boundary Bay Mens Camo Winter Jacket of coat that hangs very low round the person's thighs and feels pretty snug to wear because of delicate inner fabrics and never a lot of insulation under the midsection. A noteworthy exception to our observations about price is the Marmot Fordham. In spite of its discount value, each and every tester who experimented with within the Fordham was impressed to realize that it had been much more comfy compared to Opposition.

[yoongisbars]

quest of omission | myg (4)

summary: The war between kingdoms was starting and being Freywind’s highest ranking Captain, you would always be there to defend your people from the treachery of Woodwind. There’s just one problem: their best killer, The Silence, and his insufferable ability to make your heart race with both loathing and yearning. And now, on the verge of death after an ambush gone wrong, you both have no choice but to keep each other alive.

pairing: myg x reader genre: enemies to lovers au | knight!yoongi au | future angst? fluff? | drabble series word count: 2.3k parts: 4/_ | 1, 2, 3 cw: none, unless ure a veg note: it’s been eons, but its here ;_;

“Yoongi? Is that you?”  Relief flashed across the young boy’s face as Yoongi lowered his weapon in recognition. Shaking Yoongi’s arm off you, you stood back analyzing the possibilities of what this could mean.

“Jimin?” Surprise colored the pale man’s words as he eyed the boy in confusion. “I thought you were dead?” Great. Now he has a friend.

“I’m very much alive. I was wandering around during the night, and I saw you in there, but I didn’t want to intrude.” His eyebrow raised in a suggestive manner. “I figured I’d stay up there to stick around, y’know?”

“Okay… Anyways, I’m glad you’re okay.” Yoongi’s stoic expression was contrasted by Jimin, as his eyes turned into delicate crescents. They then focused on you, widening in realization.

“Isn’t this the Freywind Captain? From the bar?” He takes a few steps closer, scanning you with concern. “You look flush, are you okay?” You gently swat his approaching hand away from your face.

“I’m fine.”

“She had a fever, but she’s gaining her color back. I guess you are fine.” Yoongi shrugs, proceeding to stretch his arms. “So what’s next? Is this where we part ways?” The question seemed sudden and out of place, rendering both you and the one named Jimin in confusion. It was as if each second you felt better, coming down from your fever, he became more his colder self…  “I mean, I just needed someone as a companion for a surer survival. I have Jimin now though, we’re not on the same side, so it would be best to part, right?” Classic woodwindian. A double edged sword. You knew this would happen eventually, but you figured, like he said, it would last until you made your way out. But now that one of his little ragtag mates appeared, getting rid of you is at the top of his priorities. 

Your stubborn tongue was ready to fire back in agreement, roughing it out with the enemy was the last thing you ever wanted to do. With a bit of stamina from resting and a fallen friend’s sword at your side, in your head, you were more than ready to take on the vast forest. However, Jimin quickly interjected before you could get a word in.

“I honestly think it’s best if I join you guys, instead of just you and I trekking around. Three’s always better than two? And I’m not even armed.” He threw his hands up in exhibition, not even a small blade on him. You almost pitied him, but how did he even get so far with nothing? “I think we can come to an agreement? Like one I’m suspecting you came to before?” The boy eyed you and Yoongi curiously. He mentioned he had seen you inside the tree sleeping, and when he jumped down, you were practically wrapped in Yoongi’s steady arms.

The woodwindians stared each other down before the eldest, you assumed, yielded. You wouldn’t comment unless he did anyways, an agreement was already previously made and a freywindian always keeps their word. if it would fall through it would have to be at his doing. 

“Fine. The truce agreement stands, for now.” A glance was shot in your direction, waiting for any response.

“For now.” Even if they were his words, you could see they were like bile to him.

“A bit hostile, but at least we’re in terms I guess.” Jimin shrugged. “And I don’t know about you, but I am starving.” His hand quickly traveled to a satchel at his waist. A waterskin. “I do have water though, if any would like?” His arm extended to you first, expressioned soft. It was tempting, as you were as dehydrated as you could be for someone who was ransacked by a body of water. But noting your hesitation he assured you it was alright if you took it.

“Thanks.” The liquid engulfed your tongue and throat in the most refreshing manner. You felt as it made its way to your stomach. It was surprisingly cold, probably due to the night temperature. You passed the waterskin over to Yoongi, who simply gave it back to Jimin, not bothering to take a sip. Rolling his eyes at Yoongi, he shoved it back to him, giving him no choice but to at the very least carry it. He’d drink eventually.

“Let’s go then. I’m sure we can find something small enough to hunt but large enough to make a meal of it.” Yoongi ushered at Jimin to make way with him.

“There are plenty of rabbits in the area, but are you sure you need me to go along?” Jimin eyed you with slight concern again. You were feeling better, and according to Yoongi you were starting to look like it as well. But Jimin’s expression seemed to deny these claims. “I still think the Captain looks a bit ill, I don’t think leaving her alone would be right…”

“She has a sword… and a couple of tricks down her pants.” You understood what he meant quickly, Jimin however was confused and eyes automatically scanned your legs, landing on your knives. He quickly regained his composure, brushing Yoongi off.

Their bickering continued until Yoongi ultimately had no choice but to go on his own while Jimin stayed with you in the trunk.

If you were to pick which woodwindian you’d stick around with, it would surely be the newest addition. Their only similar trait they shared, besides who they serve, was their underwhelming height. You were used to being surrounded by men in Freywind given you were in the army and were close to the Prince and King, and they were all tall. Woodwindians must be of shorter genetics. Aside from that, Jimin and Yoongi were nothing alike. At first you thought the one before you was quite peculiar and quick to trust another, but it suited him. He was a genuinely nice person, unlike the other who was nice either by convenience or due to your own fever. 

Not to mention Jimin’s particular features were quite endearing. The chubby plims under his eyes and his plump lips suited him marvelously. Distracted by his appearance as you were, you missed half of whatever story he was telling you now. From the many things he’s spoken about, you discovered he’s half freywindian. No wonder he was easier to get along with. Blood doesn't deny blood, even if tainted.

“You know,” Aware you were ignoring him, you focused on what he was saying again. “He’s not bad once you get to know him.” A smirk faded as quickly as it appeared across his face. “Taking his time though, isn’t he?” The fingers tapping against his knee were a sure sign of worry.  And although you hated to admit it, even if to yourself, the feeling was mutual. It wasn’t until you fully came down from the high of the fever that you considered the fact that maybe, he might have been sick as well. Considering you both went through the rough of it. Jimin on the other hand, didn’t suffer that much initially. According to him, he wasn’t near the opening when it happened, but that he still swiftly got carried away with the water as the tides started to lose its strength. Eventually he just kept walking in search of anyone, but instead ended up deep in the forest, meeting the same fate as you and Yoongi. Lost, and without a clue on how to get back out. 

Your thoughts drowned with worry far more than you’d like at the reminder of the other woodwindian. Part of you hoped it was just your mind mimicking Jimin's anxious habits, but you  knew that, despite everything,  the survival odds of three were far better than those of two. The deeper meaning behind the sinking feeling underneath, you didn't dig into. But before Jimin or you could stand up and propose a new quest to find the lost boy, a shadow fell upon the thicker part of the woods. Yoongi came out shortly after, from an opening hidden and likely chosen for his style of fighting. You didn't hear your sigh of relief, and if Jimin did he didn't comment on it. Seconds later he was scrambling to help his friend bring back the two rabbits perched atop his shoulders. 

With the fire burning and rabbits skinned clean, it was only a matter of time before food would be in your stomachs. Eating rabbit was something you weren’t fond of, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and the inviting aroma was enough to awaken your suppressed hunger. As the meat cooked, being turned ever so often by Yoongi, Jimin was busy arranging different stones into a sundial in an attempt to determine how much time we had left, if it was worth to keep venturing farther than the shelter until we could find a new one, or simply wait out the time before waiting for an opportune moment to take leave

“I think it’s safe to say,” He stared up to the sun and back down to his array of sticks and stones. “We probably have a good six hours of sunlight left.” Dusting off his hands and placing them on his hips, he showed pride in his efforts. Looking back at you and Yoongi, still sitting on a couple of logs near the fire, he beamed. Although a simple glance up to the sun would have been enough, you had to give him credit. The patience needed to find enough stones and branches, enough sunlight peeking through the canopies above, and arranging them in such a precise manner, was not something you were blessed with. “Would it be wise if we continued within an hour from now? Or is it better to wait?” Although the questions were voiced generally, Jimin’s sight never left his superior. It was normal for him to seek guidance from him. Yoongi pursed his lips, deep in thought.

“The chances of finding another shelter as good as this one are slim.” He brought the crisp rabbits away from the fire. “But slacking on our next move any further can cost us much more than that. We leave after breakfast.” And a rather late breakfast at that.

It would have been a silent meal if not for Jimin trying to start up a conversation every second. His intent was noticeable, to try and get everyone on comfortable speaking terms. But neither you or Yoongi would budge, only speaking directly to Jimin, very rarely you would share a word, but it would often be an opening for disagreement, which Jimin was quick to stop before it even had a chance to start.

“So,” Jimin started, oddly enough removing one of his boots and pulling from it some folded parchment. As he continued speaking, he unfolded it and spread it across the ground where he sat. “Where would you say we are?” Neither you nor Yoongi noticed Jimin sheepish and expectant looks, you both stared at each other in disbelief that this individual had a map this whole time, and didn’t bother to mention it earlier. A sigh left him as he got up to take a closer look. In turn you were finding the strength to not curse out the boy, and instead look at it from a grateful point of view. There was now: a map. No need to be mad.

“I think… We might be around here, but frankly I’m not too sure.” Yoongi sat down on the ground as well, while you inched your way down the log to sit just behind them, overlooking the map. “When did you get a map including Ahbörr?” The question, though simple, weighed heavy. From your understanding, Abhörr was a group of people from different lands, Freywind, Woodwind, Lunyth and so on, that were against the growing positions of power for women. But you had always dismissed it as a myth, no one ever mentioned them, much less encountered them. “I knew they were south, but not this close…” Yoongi’s brows furrowed upon examination.

“About a few months ago, when the cartographers modified the maps.” His fingers started to trace over what was displayed as the forest we were currently residing in. “Hmm, if this large tree here is any indication to where we are, it might be best if we head south anyways if it’s certain that this clearing is there.”

“With Abhörr being so close to that, I’d much rather go back and head for a northeast direction. We’ll take onger, but we can get to Woodwind faster, then this one can find her way back to Freywind easily.” A thumb jutted back in your direction and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“It is just a map, small at that. So it doesn’t necessarily mean Abhörr is really that close.” You scooched down between them taking the map into your hands. Yoongi’s sudden distaste at your proximity was duly noted as he inched away slightly. “And clearly this forest is larger than what this map makes it out to be.”

“She’s right, Yoongi. If we head South, we spend less time in the forest, but if we head east…”

“Where Woodwind is.” Yoongi interrupted.

“We both know it’s impossible to cross the river. We’d have to go south anyways to make it across safely.”

After a long discussion about which direction to head for, south was the victor. Jimin and you had more valid points to offer, while the soured man simply wanted to avoid any encounters with Abhörreans, as he called them. Neither of you paid mind to his worries, it wasn’t like you were seeking out these people anyways. You simply wanted to get out of there as soon as you could and be on your way back home. But it’s tragic, really, how Yoongi’s worries turned out to be. 

taglist: @loveyoongles​ @stoeq​ @bubbletae7​

[cinema-tv-etc]

Review: ‘The Comey Rule’ and What a Fool Believes

Showtime’s political drama is a scattered but searing picture of failed self-righteousness. By James Poniewozik   Sept. 24, 2020

The thing that James Comey will probably like best about “The Comey Rule,” if one believes its characterization of him, is that his name is in the title.

But he is not exactly the hero. He is not even, really, the star.

Comey (Jeff Daniels), the former F.B.I. director, gets more screen time than anyone else in Showtime’s two-night, three-and-a-half-hour special. But the real lead is Donald Trump (Brendan Gleeson), in the same sense that, regardless of its minutes on camera, the true lead of “Jaws” is the shark.

Given how much it rehashes recent events, albeit with a fine cast, I’m not sure what interest “The Comey Rule” will have beyond people whose copies of the Mueller Report are already well thumbed. (There’s more to be learned from “Agents of Chaos,” the chilling Alex Gibney documentary, which premiered on HBO this week, about Russia’s 2016 election influence campaign and its American enablers.)

But if you stick to the end, there is at least a lesson and a warning, if not the one that Comey — either the screen version here or the real-life one who’s become a media figure — intended.

In his book “A Higher Loyalty,” he appears to see his decisions, which very possibly swung the 2016 election and failed to keep the president from interfering in investigations, as noble if tragic acts of principle. As translated by the director and screenwriter Billy Ray, this is instead a slo-mo horror story, in which the worst lack all inhibition while the best are full of fatuous integrity.

The first half, which starts Sunday, is basically a prelude. It walks us through the role of the F.B.I. in 2015 and 2016 when it investigated Hillary Clinton’s use of a private email server — with Comey making unusual public statements that damaged her campaign — while also looking, much more quietly, into increasingly disturbing signs that Russian intelligence was out to help Trump.

The first two hours blitz through the timeline and establish key players. So many familiar faces captioned with headline names pop up — Jonathan Banks as James Clapper! Holly Hunter as Sally Yates! — that it plays like a long, stone-cold-sober episode of “Drunk History.”

Daniels is inspired casting. Physically, he resembles the real Comey somewhat in stature (the ex-director still has a few inches on him). But having played figures of high-minded duty in “The Newsroom” and “The Looming Tower,” he captures his character’s starched righteousness wholly.

This time, however, there’s an ironic spin on the character. Comey’s actual rectitude is complicated by his fixation on the appearance of rectitude, his homey decency by smugness.

His precedent-breaking decisions to speak out on Clinton’s email practices were driven by worry over how he and the bureau would look later if — in his view, when — she became president. (He writes in “A Higher Loyalty” that he assumed she’d win.)

His guess proves wrong, but the day after the election he assures his devastated wife, Patrice (Jennifer Ehle), “We’re going to be OK.” True enough for him. He lost his job but wrote a best seller.

With that self-justifying memoir as a source, Ray makes the sharp choice to make Rod Rosenstein (Scoot McNairy), the deputy attorney general who wrote the memo recommending Comey’s 2017 firing, the quasi-narrator. Rosenstein bitterly introduces Comey as a self-righteous “showboat” (though, we discover, Rosenstein has his own blind spots and failings).

This is not, however, a production out to win over MAGA viewers. (At one point, it dramatizes one of the more eye-popping accusations of the Steele dossier.) The first night, we see Donald Trump only as shot from behind, a leering hulk parting the curtain at a Miss Universe pageant and pawing at a contestant’s bikini strap. He’s like the barely glimpsed monster in the first act of a creature feature, a rough beast slouching toward Pennsylvania Avenue.

It’s on Night 2, when President-Elect Trump emerges as a character, that the show really begins. In part, it’s simply that his crew of artless amateurs, relatives and B-list pols make for better TV. Not every portrayal works — Joe Lo Truglio as Jeff Sessions? — but it gives the proceedings a “Burn After Reading” flair.

But mostly, Gleeson kicks the program to life. Strictly as an impression, his performance is mixed. Gleeson, who is Irish, slips occasionally on the accent. But his rendering of Trump’s wandering diction is the best I’ve seen outside a lip-sync. Half his performance is in his bearing, chin jutted forward like the prow of a swollen yacht. 

More important, Gleeson has a thorough idea of his character. His Trump is not the orange-haired clown prince of “S.N.L.” and late-night talk shows. He’s a crass, heavy-breathing mobster (Comey’s comparison, and Gleeson makes the likeness vivid) driven by spite and vanity. A heavy-handed musical score portends menace whenever he turns up.

He, too, is concerned with appearances, but in a more literal way than Comey. His version of “good morning” is “I saw you on TV”; he and his staffers keep referencing his “eye for interior design.” His brassy presence in the halls of power is as much an aesthetic statement as a political one, which Ray underlines by showing a White House staffer serving him a Filet-O-Fish sandwich on a gleaming silver platter.

All the while, it gradually settles on Comey that his new boss may not be an entirely scrupulous man. Their White House dinner — the “honest loyalty” scene, for Comey buffs — takes only a few minutes, but you could imagine it as an entire movie, “Frost/Nixon” style.

It’s like an uncomfortable date with a persistent suitor. Trump, cleaning out his ice-cream dish, pushes and prods on the Russia investigation, pressing his advances. A pained Comey guards and parries, finding ways to say things that resemble what the president wants to hear.

Comey survives that battle but loses the war. “The Comey Rule” is not out to damn him. It strains itself to sympathize with his falling into one impossible position after another, and it suggests that public life might be better if everyone in it were like James Comey.

But it also shows how catastrophically inadequate he was to a world in which not everyone is like James Comey. He becomes a stand-in for an entire class of Trump-era elites who believe that respect for norms will save them. (The president “can’t fire me,” Comey tells an associate. “It’d look horrible.”)

As for Donald Trump, he’s not precisely the villain, in the show’s view. As “The Comey Rule” depicts him, he’s a creature, an appetite. He is what he is. He doesn’t know how to be otherwise.

Comey, on the other hand, is, if not a villain, then a tragic, hubristic dupe, precisely because he believes he knows better, and because he should.

“The Comey Rule” is not good drama; it’s clunky, self-serious and melodramatic. But it makes an unsparing point amid our own election season.

It says that anyone, like its subject, who complacently assumed in 2015 and 2016 that everyone would be fine, who thought that propriety and rules could constrain forces that care about neither, who worried more about appearances than consequences, was a fool.

Then it leaves you to sit with the question: What does that make anyone who still believes that today?

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/09/24/arts/television/review-comey-rule.html?action=click&module=RelatedLinks&pgtype=Article

THE COMEY RULE Trailer (2020)

 Brendan Gleeson as Donald Trump

Jeff Daniels and Brendan Gleeson star as former FBI Director James Comey and President Donald J. Trump in this two-part event series that tells the story of two powerful men, whose strikingly different ethics and loyalties put them on a collision course. Watch the premiere on September 27 at 9/8c on SHOWTIME. #TheComeyRule #DonaldTrump

Brendan Gleeson portrays Trump as a crass mobster.

[angelstormx]

ACCESSING FILES...

ADVANCED CASE FILES: STORM

BASICS

BIRTH NAME: Angel Juelz Rodriguez

NICKNAME(S): A, Ange. Stormy.

DATE OF BIRTH: November, 7th (Scorpio).

AGE: 36.

GENDER: Trans Male.

PRONOUNS: He/Him.

NATIONALITY: Spanish American.

HOMETOWN: Madrid, Spain.

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Turnstone, USA. New York, New York.

OCCUPATION: Bartender.

ORIGIN:

Angel was born with his powers, he had them dating back to as long as he could remember. He was born the son of Ramon and Sylvia Rodriguez. Ramon himself had the abilities of Celestial manipulation and Sylvia was a local hairdresser, that practiced Brujeria. They hadn’t expected Angel to become a ‘mutant’ with sorcery powers, because Ramon had hid his gifts from his family and never disclosed with them the information, in turn, he never knew he came from a long line of mutants and Sylvia’s family only were ‘practitioners’ of Brujeria - none of them ever had powers that displayed anything that Angel did at such a young age.

But when his son, former daughter, displayed glowing white eyes and hands that were surrounded by lightning - from throwing a temper tantrum - they soon realized that Adam had powers. When Angel turned 13, he was in the middle of transitioning, when his parents died in a air plane crash, leaving Angel with his progressively ill turning grandmother. Angel was able to get his top surgery and afford a few months of his t shots, but when medical bills, regular bills occurred Angel went to stealing. His grandmother never knew what he did to get the money, she honestly was too sick to even give much thought and research into it. He had become a master thief, using his powers to distract people from strong wind gust, to random lightning strikes, to even having a tornado tease the area. He stole his way back into good standing and got his grandmother back into good health.

Once he turned seventeen, stealing wasn’t enough. Everyone knew his tactics, knew who he was, and expected him. So he started off trying to get a normal job, but no one wanted a streetrat or a riff raff working for them. Needless to say, he had a rougher childhood and knew that, it wasn’t until he was eighteen that a male, his former mentor, came and found him. He thought he was just stealing for a common man, but the man seemed to be twelve steps ahead of him... and in his head. A telepath? In the small Spanish town, Angel thought that he was the only one in the world with supernatural powers, convinced  him that he was more than a thief or street rat.

He convinced Angel to come to the US and start a better life for himself and help those mutants that were hiding, along with learning himself. Within his first year there, he was already smitten with a fellow super and ended up having a baby with said man. They soon decided to get married and live a happy life. He knew that it was fast, but he was a new person there and living a better life. Through many years he has went through hell, disasters, and even a few deaths through him learning how to use and control his powers - deeming them an environmental hazard if he got too out of hand.  Years later and the Advocate comes up and it just something that Angel is interested in. Mentoring future and upcoming heroes and powered beings. Along with partaking in some missions and such, himself.

APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 5′9.

WEIGHT: 164 lbs.

BUILD: Muscular Slim.

ETHNICITY: Hispanic.

HAIR: Black.

EYES: Brown. Glowing White ( when powers are in use )

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Cocky Smirk.

DISABILITIES: None.

DRESS STYLE: ( summer ) ( spring ) ( fall ) ( winter ) ( sleep )

TATTOOS: None

PIERCINGS: None

PERSONALITY/PSYCHOLOGY

INTROVERT or EXTROVERT: Extrovert with Introvert Tendacies.

INTELLIGENCE LEVEL: He is both book and street smart, having lived on the streets to working with a man that challenged his book intelligence.

MENTAL HEALTH: No Known Issues.

HABITS: Bits his lips when he is nervous or trying to figure something out, Flies up to the sky before he starts using his powers - feels the closer he is to the sky the more control he is in, folds his arms when he is trying to understand something, Scratches the Side of his nose when he is nervous.

MANNERISMS: Very Elegant and Poised.

HEALTH: Amazing Health, he is a regular with check ups and dental visits.

MBTI TYPE: ENFJ

POSITIVE ATTRIBUTES: Loyalty, Compassion, Leadership

NEGATIVE ATTRIBUTES: Emotions, Reservations, Scorning

LIKES: Reading, Various Music, Outdoors, Wind Breezes, Attractive Men, Going on Dates, Teaching, Chili Dogs

DISLIKES: Liars, Abusers, Nature Negligence, Bad Mannered Jokes, Homophobes, Transphobes, Fatphobes, etc., Snakes, Unnecessarily Loud Music

HOBBIES: Reading, Flying, Power Control, Hiking, Adventures.

TALENTS / SKILLS: Master Thief, Expert Combatant, Weapons Mastery, Tactician, Multilingualism, Aviation, Indomitable Will

FAMILY

PARENTS: Ramon Rodriguez (father, deceased), Sylvia Velazquez (mother, deceased).

SIBLINGS: 2 Younger Brothers, 1 Younger Sister.

CHILDREN: 1 Son ( 18 years old ).

MARITAL STATUS: Separated.

SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S): None.

OTHER FAMILY: Uncles here in the US.

PETS: Mini Schnauzer (Titus).

SEXUALITY

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Homosexual.

DATING STATUS: Looking To Date.

DOMINANT / SUBMISSIVE / SWITCH: Switch.

TOP / BOTTOM / VERSATILE: Bottom.

TURN-ONS: Marking, Neck Kissing, Ass Smacking, Biting, Breeding, Softness, Roughness

TURN-OFFS: Toilet Play, Age Play, Daddy Kink

SUPERHEROISM

ALIAS: Storm.

POWERS / SKILLSET:

Atmokinesis aka Weather Manipulation:

Atmokinesis gives Angel the psionic ability to create, generate, and control meteorological tempest. He has influence over various weather phenomena from lighting, hail, rain to rare things such as acid rain, tidal waves, and flash freezes. He has shown feats and put down enemies with tornadoes, as many as he wants in a flash, oxygen control, and snowstorms. He has trained himself to fly with creating wind currents to give him flight capabilities up to many speeds. He has the weather perception vision, which is what is going on when his eyes are glowing white, he can perceive destiny via weather patterns viewed to him as patterns of energy. He has an empathetic link with the Eco system. And has electrolysis which separates elements unto their old forms.]

Sorcery:

Sylvia family practiced Brujeria, for generations, and it is believed that their idol blessed Angel, and his siblings, with the acts of being able to actually perform some of the Brujeria through sorcery. Angel has also humbled himself with this ability, because he knows if he isn’t careful that it could do some major damage. He had disciplined himself with learning various forms of magic from brujeria to voodoo to wicca to chaos to love and madness magics. He has been able to alter reality, create illusion, create voodoo dolls, summon things, scry, and even control people’s motor skills. He mostly uses this power when he absolutely has too, he often uses quick magic attacks, but he doesn’t dive into the more serious powers, unless it is a life or death situation going on.

COLORS: Whitish Silver (Pearl), and Gold.

APPEARANCE:

Storm’s costume is a whitish silver aka pearl colored skintight and full body body suit. There are many different designs and patterns in it, that would be cold colored. The arrows on his forearms would be made of 3D gold. He doesn’t wear a mask or anything that hides his face, because he isn’t ashamed of being a hero or his mutant genes. He has gray and gold gloves, that flow with the color scheme of the body suit, while the gold helps him emit the EM and electricity in his body to come out more. He has gold bracelets around each wrist that connect to his cape, with makes a W shape. The middle of the W being his neck where the cape hooks onto his costume.

Costume 2 - When he is feeling more in tune with his magic side.

WEAKNESSES:

Earth Link: With his empathetic link to the eco system he feels often what the eco system is feeling, somethings he could be classified as ‘bipolar’ because his mood swings with the environment around him and if there is even a single plant dying it would render Angel sick.

MENTOR / PROTEGE: TBA.

LENGTH OF ADVOCATE MEMBERSHIP: About Three Years.

SUPERVILLAIN ARCHNEMESIS: TBA.