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trashcanband4 · 3 years

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The Revelation of the Other Woman Ch. 16

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

Chapter Title: Settling in. Pairing: Daryl/oc. Setting: The Prison. Wordcount: 4,837. Warning: None that I can thing of.

After Rick, Daryl and Merle got safely inside the gates we all gathered in the cell block. Daryl, Carol and Beth stood on the perch and catwalk above while Michonne, Glenn, Rick, Maggie, Carl and I stood on the ground below. Hershel sat on the stairs. Merle was locked in the holding room. “We're not leaving.” Rick spoke with finality.

“We can't stay here.” Hershel argued the same case he had been arguing.

“What if there's another sniper?” Maggie asked. “A wood pallet won't stop one of those rounds.”

“We can't even go outside.” Beth spoke up as if what she said wasn't already understood by everyone.

“Not in the daylight.” Carol added.

“Rick says we're not running. We're not running.” Glenn spoke up still playing the part of leader even though Rick was back.

“No, better to live like rats.” Merle spoke up through the bar door holding him back from the rest of us.

“You got a better idea?” Rick asked him.

“Yeah, we should have slid out of here last night and lived to fight another day. But we lost that window, didn't we?” Merle asked. “I'm sure he's got scouts on every road out of this place by now.”

“We ain't scared of that prick.” Daryl spoke up from the catwalk, but I didn't even bother looking at him.

“Y'all should be. That truck through the fence thing? That was just him ringing the dinner bell. We might have some thick walls to hide behind, but he's got the guns and the numbers. And if he takes the high ground around this place, shoot, he could just starve us out if he wanted to.” As much as I hated to admit it, Merle had a point.

“Let's put him in the other cell block.” Maggie said ringing a rag in her hands.

“No. He's got a point.” Daryl said.

“This is all you. You started this!” Maggie yelled at Merle who wasn't affected by it.

“What's the difference whose fault it is?” Beth spoke up loudly. “What do we do?”

“I said we should leave. Now Axel's dead. We can't just sit here.” Hershel said for the millionth time and Rick started to walk off. “Get back here!” he yelled at the ex-cop who stopped, but didn't turn to look at the old man. “You're slipping Rick. We've all seen it. We understand why. But now is not the time. You once said this is not a democracy. Now you have to own up to that. I put my family's life in your hands. So get your head clear and do something.”

After Hershel yelled at Rick he just stared at him for a second then walked off. With him gone, people scattered. Most went to their cell's so that's what I did as well. I wiped the dust off of the metal mirror and looked at myself for the first time in months. Dark circles shadowed my eyes, my skin was darker than it used to be from the amount of sun I'd gotten during the winter and my hair had grown two inches, now touching my shoulders. I didn't look like the me I remembered. I was still studying myself when I heard someone clear their throat and looked over to see Daryl standing with his arm propped up on the door frame.

A pain shot through my chest at the way he was looking at me. With hard eyes and straight lips that gave nothing away. He was different than I remembered, everyone was. I guess we'd all changed over the winter. “Whatever you're selling I don't want any.” I told him emotionlessly and crossed my arms over my chest.

“That your way of tellin' me to go away?” he asked quietly.

“If you're going to call me more names...yeah. That's exactly what I'm telling you.” I said as I sat down on my bed, pulled my legs up and hugged my knees to my chest.

“I ain't good at sayin' sorry.” he said quietly looking more like his old self.

“Good then don't say it. 'Cause I don't want to hear it.” I practically growled at him still hugging my knees to my chest.

“Joanna, I really am-”

“No.” I interrupted him letting go of my knees to scoot to the edge of the bed. “You don't get it. I dreamed about you. Every night that we weren't together was another dream that had you in it.” His face flushed at my words and it was cute, but it didn't put a damper on my anger. “At first they were nightmares. I blamed you for me getting left behind and stuck with that bitch Andrea. But then I realized that you told me to stay behind because you wanted me to be safe and I stopped being mad at you. The nightmares turned to good dreams. I would be hunkered down in a house somewhere and you would find me or vice versa.” my voice was shaking holding back tears. “We would find each other, you would wrap those amazing arms of yours around me and give me the best kiss of my life.” a tear slid down my cheek as I watched him cross his arms over his chest and lean back against the wall.

“Then imagine my surprise when my wildest dream came true. You found me, hugged me and kissed me and...” I closed my eyes and smiled sadly at the memory of his arms around me and his lips on mine. “Damn it that felt heavenly.” I opened my eyes and let the smile fade as I glared at him again. “So stupid me, I think that means you actually missed me as much as I missed you, that you wanted me back. But then your brother comes in the picture and you no longer give a damn about me. I'm just some weak, uppity, booty call. And you leave.” my eyes glared at his hand to his mouth, chewing on his cuticles. “That hurt.” I glared at him with tears slipping down my cheeks. “I never thought you would hurt me. So don't expect me to jump into your arms at the first “I'm sorry.” because it ain't gonna happen.”

He just stared at me for a second as if he were trying to think of something to say before he nodded and walked out. A few minutes later I heard people talking down stairs, practically under my cell so I walked out on the catwalk to see what was going on. “I didn't see any snipers out there, but we'll keep Maggie on watch.” Rick said to everyone.

“I'll get up in the guard tower, take out half them walkers, give these guys a chance to fix the fence.” Daryl suggested.

“Or use some of the cars to put the bus in place.” Michonne suggested.

“We can't access the field without burning through out bullets.” Hershel added.

“So we're trapped in here. There's barely any food or ammo. Glenn added not helping one bit. Honestly his negativity was grating to everyone.

“We've been here before. We'll be all right.” Daryl tried.

“That's when it was just us. Before there was a snake in the nest.” Glenn directed at Daryl.

“Man, we gonna go through this again?” Daryl asked, getting in Glenn's face. ?Look, Merle's staying here. He's with us now. Get used to it.” he looked up at me then at the rest of the group. “All y'all.”

“Seriously, Rick, I don't think Merle-” Glenn started, but I interrupted him.

“Just stop it Glenn.” I spoke up from the cat walk as Daryl came up the stairs. “No one likes him being here, but as much as I hate to admit it, we need him. He knows The Governors tactics and he has military training. So just get off your high horse and deal with it.”

Glenn looked from me to Rick. “I can't kick him out.” Rick said with a shake of his head.

Rick's words seemed to piss Glenn off even worse than mine did. “I wouldn't ask you to live with Shane after he tried to kill you.” Glenn's words pulled a look out of Rick and I tilted my head at Glenn's words. Shane tried to kill Rick?

“He may be erratic, but don't underestimate his loyalty to his brother.” Hershel defended.

“What if we solve two problems at once?” Glenn asked. “Deliver Merle to the Governor. Bargaining chip. Give him his traitor, maybe declare a truce.”

“No.” I said as I walked down the stairs to be a better part of the conversation. “We're sacrificing people now?” I asked with a twisted faced look at Glenn. “Delivering him to The Governor will be no different than leaving him on that roof to die. We couldn't do that back then and we can't do this now.”

“Who put you in charge?” Glenn asked.

I leaned back and raised my brows. “I could ask you the same question mister high and mighty.”

“Guys, cut it out.” Hershel cut off our building argument. “Look, Glenn, Joanna's right. That's not who we are.”

“We're not gonna figure this out now. Let's take a break.” Rick suggested and Glenn and Hershel walked off. Rick jerked his head for me to follow him to his cell so I did. “What all happened out there over the winter? I know you said Michonne found you two while you were running from the farm, but I don't know much more than that.” he asked as he sat down on his bed.

I sat down in the chair in the room with a sigh. “Not a whole lot up until Woodbury. I answered vaguely. Just a lot of running, scavenging and hunkering down for as long as we could. Michonne and I are pretty good friends, we don't communicate a lot, but we work well together. She and Andrea got closer though.” I said with a shrug.

“What about you and Andrea?” he asked looking curious.

“Oh we still hate each other as much as we always did, if not more now.” I said with a small laugh before it faded. “Bitches can't befriend bitches I guess.”

“You're not a bitch.” he said with a shake of his head.

“Really? Because I feel like one after the things I just said to Daryl.” I said looking up from the floor to his blue eyes. I had forgotten how blue they were and the fact that I was apparently a sucker for them. His and Daryl's... the same color yet so different. “But that doesn't matter. What about you and the rest of the group? There's some things I've been wondering since I got here.”

“Like what?” he asked and I sat up straighter.

“Like I hear Shane tried to kill you?” I asked and he nodded with a sigh.

“The night the walkers came through and we all got separated, he killed Randall to lure me into the woods and kill me.” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I killed him first.” he said before his dropped his hand and looked at me. I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. “He wanted Lori, thought killing me was the only way to get her and Carl.”

“I'm sorry you had to do that.” I said and he waved me off. “So... I have to ask based off the way Beth spoke to me, did you and Lori ever work things out?”

He shook his head no. “What did Beth say to you?”

“She blames me for Lori's death.” he just tilted his head in confusion. “I guess she thinks that if I had never...been, with you that you and Lori would have been happier. I guess in her mind if you two were happier then you would have been there to save her or something.”

Rick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Those aren't only her thoughts...” when he lifted his head to look at me I tilted my head to the side in a questioning manner. “She's just copying what I've heard Carl say.”

“Wait, Carl's mad at me too?” I asked getting tired of being everyone's whipping post.

“Yeah.” Rick sighed and dropped his hand from his face. “He didn't put two and two together until recently...after Lori...”

“I don't know how to handle this... Should we talk to him, try to explain things?” I asked as I shook my head in confusion.

“No, I'll talk to him and Beth. You don't deserve all that hate.” he said as he stood up.

“No, I think it's totally justified.” I sighed as I stood up as well. “I'm a home wrecker.”

“You know that's not true. Lori and I had our problems long before you even came along.” he said taking a step closer to grab my hand.

“I know, but...” I said giving his hand a small squeeze. When I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye I looked out of the cell to see Daryl walk by and glance in our direction. His stopped when he saw Rick's hand in mine and shook his head. I could hear a scoff as he walked off.

I dropped Ricks hand and scratched the back of my head. “What else have you been wondering about since you got back?”

“Daryl and Carol.” I said crossing my arms over my chest

“What about them?” he asked.

“She seemed really upset to hear that he didn't come back and then she blamed me for him leaving like I pushed him into it or something.” I said and he just looked at me. “Are they...together?” I cautiously asked.

“Honestly, I don't know. It's hard to tell with him.” Rick answered with a shoulder shrug. “You'll have to ask one of them.” I sighed and placed my head in my hands. He placed his hand on my back. “Hey,” I looked up at him and he gave me a small smile, “If I hadn't said it yet I'm glad you're alive.”

I gave him a small smile in return and he engulfed in a hug. “I'm glad you're alive too.” I said with a small laugh then pulled out of the hug. His hands lingered on my neck and mine on his sides. In a split second every tender intimate moment we'd ever had flooded my mind. Then came the bad memories and all the arguments. That made me remember why I chose Daryl, why I love Daryl more than anything or anyone. So I let him go and gave him a sad smile. “Thanks for filling me in. I'm gonna go to my cell and try to process things.” he let me go without a word.

Daryl's cell was on the way to mine and Carol's voice made me stop just outside of it. “This is a tomb.” I heard Daryl say as I made sure I couldn't be seen by them.

“That's what T-dog called it. I thought he was right till you found me.” Carol said and it got quiet for a few seconds. “He's your brother, but he's not good for you. Don't let him bring you down. After all, look how far you've come.” she said making him laugh. God how I'd missed that sound. It got quiet and I was about to go to my cell when Carol's words stopped me. “I've never thought Joanna was good for you either. She's too weak, those panic attacks of hers...they'll only slow you down and make you weak.” I felt my teeth grind together as I bit down, forcing back more tears and made myself walk by as if I hadn't heard a thing.

About an hour later I heard some one approach my cell and I thought it would be Daryl or Rick, but instead, it was Merle. “What do you want?” I asked sitting up to pull my knees to my chest.

“Just thought that if we're gonna be under the same roof, we should clear the air.” he stated and I just stared at him. “The whole hunting you two down thing... that was just business. Carrying out orders.”

“Sure, whatever, just don't hurt my people.” I said and he just smirked at me. “What?”

“Good taste.” he answered making me immediately think of what he said back at Woodbury. How his brother had good taste. He just smirked again as he walked away.

I was still in my cell when I heard Rick yell for Daryl, Merle and some others to join him outside because Andrea had been spotted. So I ran out behind Michonne and watched as Rick let her in a treated her like the traitor she was. He pushed her to her knees and took her things before she confirmed that she was alone and she was eventually let into the prison, but just the holding room. Andrea greeted Carol first. “Hershel, oh my god.” she sighed, spotting the old man's lack of a limb. “I can't believe this.” she said as she looked around the room and let go of Carol. “Where's Shane?” he asked still looking around the room before she looked at Rick.

“Why should you care? You're sleeping with The Governor now right?” I asked earning a glare from her before she looked at Rick who simply shook his head and looked away from her.

“And Lori?” she asked and Rick just gave her a hard look.

“She had a girl. Lori didn't survive.” Hershel spoke up.

“Neither did T-Dog.” Maggie added and I made a mental note to find out exactly how he died.

“I'm so sorry.” she said before her eyes landed on Carl. “Carl...” the boy just glared at her sympathy. Then she turned to Rick. “Rick I-” she started to walk over to Rick but he backed away from her. So she looked around the room at other people. “You all live here?”

“Here and the cell block.” Glenn answered.

“There?” she asked pointing to the door to the cell block. “Well, can I go in?” she asked.

Rick stepped in her way. “I won't allow that.”

“I'm not the enemy here, Rick.” Andrea defended.

“No you're just sleeping with the enemy.” I said and this time she didn't even look at me.

“We had that field and courtyard until your boyfriend tore down the fence with a truck and shot us up.” Rick said still standing in her way.

“He said you fired first.” Andrea defended.

I wanted to point out that he was a liar, but I knew I wasn't the person to point that out. She wouldn't listen to me. She never did. “Well, he's lying.” Rick answered and she just stared at him.

“He killed an inmate who survived in here.” Hershel spoke up.

“We liked him. He was one of us.” Daryl said making her attention turn to him.

“I didn't know anything about that.” Andrea said with a head shake. “As soon as I found out I came. I didn't even know you were in Woodbury until after the shoot-out.” she said looking around at everyone.

“That was days ago.” Glenn said and now I agreed with his angry tone.

“I told you I came as soon as I could.” Andrea defended herself and looked around at everyone just to be met with glares and looks of mistrust. She turned to me “What have you told them?” she asked angrily.

“I didn't have to tell them anything.” I said from where I sat at the metal picnic table.

“You poisoned them with lies about me.” she yelled.

“She hasn't bad mouthed ya.” Daryl of all people defended me from where he sat at the table across the room from me.

“I don't get it. I left Atlanta with you people and now I'm the odd man out?” she asked getting mad at everyone.

“He almost killed Michonne and he would have killed us.” Glenn started.

“With his finger on the trigger.” Andrea yelled with a point at Merle. “Isn't he the one who kidnapped you? Who beat you?” she asked then sighed and placed her head in her hands for a second. “I cannot excuse or explain what Philip has done. But I am trying to bring us together. We have to work this out.”

“There's nothing to work out.” Rick said cutting her off. “We're gonna kill him. I don't know how or when, but we will.”

“We can settle this.” she said taking a step closer to Rick.

“God, Andrea!” I yelled at her. “When are you going to open those ignorant eyes of yours and realize that there is no settling this. He will not stop until we are dead, that is just the kid of man he is. Merle kidnapped us, but it was under the orders of your boy toy. He is sick and twisted.” I said walking over to get in her face.

“There is room at Woodbury for you.” she said not giving up on the idea of peace.

“You're blind as a freaking bat.” I scoffed and walked back to the table.

“There's room for all of you.” she said looking around at everyone now.

Merle laughed at her. “You know better than that.”

“What makes you think this man wants to negotiate?” Hershel asked. “Did he say that?”

“No.” Andrea answered.

“Then why did you come here?” Rick asked.

“Because he's gearing up for war. The people are terrified. They see you as killers. They're training to attack.” Andrea warned.

“I'll tell you what. Next time you see Philip, you tell him I'm gonna take his other eye.” Daryl warned back.

“We've taken too much shit for too long.” Glenn spoke up. “He wants a war? He's got one.”

Andrea turned to Rick. “Rick? If you don't sit down and try to work this out, I don't know what's gonna happen. He has a whole town.” she heaved out a breath as she turned toward us. “Look at you. You've lost so much already. You can't stand alone anymore.”

“You want to make this right, get us inside.” Rick said walking around her to be in her line of sight.

“No.” Andrea said shaking her head rapidly.

“Then we got nothing to talk about.” Rick walked around her.

“There are innocent people.” she yelled after him trying to get him to stop.

With Rick gone Michonne and Andrea went outside to talk. So with her out of the way I went back to my cell.

I don't know when she left, I didn't go see her off like everyone else did. I didn't even leave my cell until I heard everyone getting together down stairs and the smell of warm food hit my nose. It turned out to just be rice, cooked with a chicken bullion cube for flavor. It wasn't much, but I sat on the floor next to Michonne to eat it. Not long after I finished my bowl Beth started singing. After listening to the song enough to recognize a pattern and pick up the chorus I started to sing along. “You gotta hold on, hold on. You gotta hold on. Take my hand I'm standin' right here. You gotta hold on.” I sang back up catching a few people's attention, but I didn't look at them. Beth glared at me, but I ignored her too. She wasn't going to put a damper on my fun.

When the song was over most people turned in for the night. So I followed suit. As I passed Daryl's cell he spoke up, stopping me. “So it's you and Rick again, huh?”

I stopped and leaned my back against the frame of his door. "Maybe." I replied with a shoulder shrug.

"I ain't interested in none of your games." He practically growled as he sat up on the side of his bunk.

"Are you and Carol together?" I finally asked and he looked at me like I was crazy. "She was more broken up about you leaving the group than everyone else and people around here seem to put your names together a lot. On top of that you two were close at the farm, so what am I supposed to expect when I find you." I explained deciding to leave out the fact that I heard her badmouthing me and Daryl didn't defend me. He just stared at me, biting his nails. “Was I supposed to expect you to just wait around for me to show up out of the blue? I mean as much as I missed you and longed to be with you I supposed you would move on at some point.”

"Did you move on?" He answered flatly.

“Oh, yeah, didn't you hear? Andrea, Michonne and I got real cozy on the road together.” I popped off and he rolled his eyes at me with a scoff. “No, I didn't.” I answered truthfully. “Have you?”

“Na. She's just a friend.” he answered quietly.

“Good.” I told him with a nod and pushed off of the door frame to walk away.

“You gonna give me a straight answer 'bout you and Rick?” he asked stopping me and I turned to see that he had stood up.

“He's just a friend.” I answered with a sigh. “Now if you don't mind I'd like to get some sleep.” I started once again to walk off but he grabbed my hand pulling me to a stop.

“Sleep here.” he suggested, not dropping my hand.

“Why, so I can be your booty call?” I asked sarcastically.

He bit his lip and shook his head. “Cause I love ya, Woman.”

“W-what?” I asked too shocked for his words to fully sink in.

“Come on, I ain't good at this shit, don't make me say it again.” he practically begged.

What he had done and what he had called me...it was all washed away by those three little words. Three little words that when said separately or with other words between them meant nothing. But when one sentence was composed of just these words they seemed to heal the worst of wounds and mend broken hearts. So what did I do when they finally sank in?

Laughter burst from my lips and I fell back to lean against the door frame again. When I managed to stop laughing I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “Even in my best dreams you never said that.” I whispered then looked at him to see him looking at me like if I rejected him he would crack. “I love you too.”

A smile spread across his lips as he closed the space between us grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into him. The kiss was hard and passionate. A moan escaped my lips when his tongue found mine starting a battle with no winner. His hand moved from the back of my head to grip my sides and lift me up and pin me to that wall. My legs wrapped around his waist and my fingers embedded themselves into his soft hair.

Thirty minutes later we lay on his bed sweaty and breathless, but still tangled together like an unkempt line of string. “How do you do that?” I asked, not looking at him, but comparing the size of our hands instead.

“Do what?” he asked quietly.

“Make me lose my mind but stay perfectly grounded at the same time.” I said and he scoffed at me.

“Ya ain't makin' since.” he grumbled sleepily.

“Yeah, I guess my minds still a little lost.” I chuckled as I dropped his hand and rolled over to look at him. “It has to be, because I feel crazy for giving you a second chance.” I explained, resting my hand on his taunt chest. “I felt something for you before, I wasn't sure what it was, if it was love or lust or if it was just simply trust, and companionship. So when you told me I was nothing to you and chose to leave me, it hurt but I lived. Barely, but I did. And now, after tonight, after we said what we said? You have my heart, you're capable of destroying me.”

“Ain't gonna do that.” he promised, low and gruff as he placed his hand on my cheek and ran his thumb over my cheekbone. “Can't make the same mistake twice.” from my face his hand slid down to my neck where he touched the mark his brother had left on me. “Let's get some sleep, missed havin' ya by my side.”

I smiled to myself as I tuned my back to him and he tossed his arm over my side. “Goodnight, Daryl.”

“Night, Ballerina.”

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tinyyoungblood · 4 years

Text

light rain | tom holland

summary: stealing cars and sneaking off from set with tom might just be the wildest thing you’ve ever done but at the end it’s worth it because it’s with tom

pairing: tom holland x actress!reader

warnings: fluff

a/n: okay so the gif i originally made couldn’t be uploaded *cries in frustration* i’ll try again later but for now, enjoy this cutie

* * *

“Are you sure this is okay?”

Tom chuckled and shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “Definitely not.” You almost jumped out of your seat, whipping your head to your left. “Tom!” Glancing amusedly at you, he awe’d and threw his arm over your shoulder to press you to his side, but you protested and squirmed out of his embrace.

“You said we’re not going to get in trouble for this!” you whined and sunk into your seat. The way you sat there with your arms crossed, brows furrowed and bottom lip jutted out, almost made him swerve the car up the hill and drive back to set, but he knew you’d love it once you saw where he was taking you so he gently put his hand on your thigh and tried to reassure you that it was going to be fine by drawing small circles into your skin with his thumb like he always did.

“Darling, it’s going to be fine, you’ll see. Now help me figure out how to get the top down.”

You glared at him but sighed and pulled at the hook that was hanging in front of you.

He gave you a puzzled look, questioning how you knew that and you simply shrugged, a smirk appearing on your lips. “I play Tony Stark’s daughter for a reason, Tom.” The car made a screeching sound, deafening your ears and his grip tightened on your thigh. “Geez, this really is an old car, huh.” He attempted to lighten the mood with a nervous laugh, but your glare didn’t falter.

“It’s a beat up Chevrolet from 1955, I’d be surprised if we were still able to return it with all four wheels on it.”

The roof was in the middle of opening up when it suddenly got stuck halfway. You pulled at the hook again, but it did nothing. Mumbling under your breath about how this better be worth it, you unbuckled your belt and stood on your seat, making Tom’s eyes widen. “Be careful, Y/n”

Your hair was blowing everywhere once you stuck your head out. First, you tried to push back the cover with your hands, but it didn’t budge and that’s when you detected the screwdriver that was provisionally stuck in between the metal bars, keeping it from going any further. Yanking it out, the roof finally folded all the way over and opened up the car.

The wind slapped over both of you and Tom wooed loudly at the new found freedom and carefreeness of driving with the top down. You giggled as he punched his fist in the air, the other still on the steering wheel, and shouted, “This is the American Dream, BABY.” He leaned over and pressed a sloppy kiss on your cheek, making you smile even more. He gasped at the sight of it. “Am I seeing a smile? You’re so enjoying this! You’re enjoying this as much as I am!” You shoved his shoulder, but he only chuckled. “Shut up.”

Your gaze flicked up to the mountains and the air was knocked out of your lungs. The scenery around you was gorgeous and suddenly, you were deeply grateful that Tom had the notion to steal the beat up prop car to escape from set for an hour. You had your doubts and you knew that this was the most irresponsible and unprofessional thing you had ever done in your career and life but god, you loved it so much.

You leaned over and kissed the corner of Tom’s mouth, making him look at you with a happy smile. You were beaming. Your eyes were glowing with joy. He wanted to stop the car right then and there, in the middle of the road, to plant thousand kisses on your face. Luckily, the destination where he was taking you both wasn’t that far away anymore so he grabbed your hand and pressed soft-lipped kisses on the back of it.

You smiled at him before he turned the corner and the sun that had been hiding behind a mountain revealed itself in all its late afternoon glory. The sky was painted in a breathtaking mixture of orange and pink, edging on blue and Tom was driving so fast now, you were sure you might be able to reach the stars.

Just as you were standing up again, holding your arms carelessly up in the air, Tom pulled over and drove down a wobbly lane. You looked at him surprised and stared behind you, almost missing the main road.

He took another turn and then slowed down. Killing the engine and ignoring your confused stare, he jumped over his door and jogged over to your side. Opening the door for you, he offered you his hand to help you step out.

Tom was grinning at you giddily, prompting you to smile with him. “What?” With no response, he quickly placed his hands over your eyes and guided you to the hood of the car. “Close your eyes, love.”

Doing as told, his hands landed on your waist and he lifted you off the ground and set you down on the hood before jumping on it himself. Shuffling backwards with him, your back was met with the windshield and you looked at your boyfriend. Your eyes were still closed but you cocked your head in a questioning manner. He chuckled and leaned forward to capture your lips in a kiss. Automatically reaching up to the back of his head, your fingers threaded through his hear while his pressed you closer to him by the small of your back.

Only then, you felt tiny water drops land on your skin and you pulled away to look up at the sky. Tom followed your movement and stared heavenward. The sky was growing a darker shade of red and for the first time, you finally looked ahead of you and you gasped.

The car was parked at a cliff, overlooking smaller mountains that were glowing warmly as the sun was setting right in front of your very eyes, melting the colors of the sky into a pallet of vibrating orange and red. “It’s so beautiful,” you mumbled under your breath and Tom’s eyes were on you, admiring the glimmer in your eyes. “It is.”

You turned your head back to him and it was as if the air was knocked out of your lungs again.

Even with nature playing its best cards with you right now, Tom was and will always be the most beautiful sight to you.

He was breathtaking.

All your inhibitions melted away and then the moment came, you didn’t even know you were waiting for.

Light rain fell down as you kissed.

* * *

i haven’t written something spontaneously in the longest and i really missed it *sigh* anyway, feedback is always so so much appreciated ♡ stay hydrated and have a great day!

masterlist

taglist: @honeypie-holland @himarisolace

#tom holland #tom holland x fem #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland fandom #tom holland one shot

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lucky-bucky-boy · 4 years

Text

Muse

Pairing: Pre-Serum Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve’s little art hobby wasn’t necessarily a secret, but how good he was at it? That part was.

Word Count: 1552

Warnings: Fluff, eluded angst and insecurity from Steve

A/N: This is for a writing challenge by @jbbuckybarnes. I truly tried my best to make this my absolute most inclusive piece of writing, so if you have any constructive criticism on how I can do that better please message me.

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs welcome and highly appreciated.

Bright sunlight pranced throughout the small Brooklyn apartment, flittering and flickering through the air. A few tea light candles were strewn around on flat surfaces, emanating a soft vanilla scent that enhanced the sweetness that lingered from the nights dessert, a rare thing but a necessity with what was bound to happen in the next few weeks. Soft blankets and a peaceful quiet, comfortable silence that only made the warmth of the moment stronger.

Your eyes flickered from the book in your hand to your sweet boyfriend sitting opposite of the room in his favorite chair. A colorful pallete and a dirty cup of water sat on the table next to him, his hand moving in thoughtful flicks as his teeth nibbled at his lip in concentration. A few pieces of his blonde hair had fallen into his face, occasionally shaking his head to move it from his view and causing a smile to spread across your lips.

Steve has always painted. A fun little hobby to fill the time. Sometimes it'd just be a drawing, a simple sketch with charcoal. But lately, since meeting Dr.Eskrine late last week he's been specifically painting more and more. The colors on his pallete have even become brighter and move varied, but he never showed you the pictures. You assumed they were just personal little doodles, nothing big and extravagant, maybe something that would be somehow embarrassing for him.

However, you did know why he had been painting more. Steve had been recruited, kind of. He'd be the subject of an experiment called Project Rebirth. Neither of you knew too much about it, but you did know that within the next week or to Steve would be receiving his letter for him to be wisped away.

At first, Steve was excited. He finally had managed to find a way to get what he wanted, a way to serve his country. And you were excited for him as well, how couldn't you be? His blue eyes lit up so bright when he told you, so excited and talking so fast he was practically reminiscent of a puppy. He nearly gave himself an asthma attack with how much energy was coursing through him.

But the reality quickly set in for the both of you. He'd be leaving. Your Stevie, your perfect gentleman of a boyfriend, your number one supporter would have to leave you, and there was a good chance he may not come home. You two cried that night, a whirlwind of emotions laying catastrophy to your bliss, and vowed that every moment between then and him leaving would be the most special time you could imagine.

Some would argue that there wasn't anything special about this; About sitting feet apart, in the most peaceful quiet only slightly disturbed by the sounds of people going home after a long days work outside, doing your own thing. But you couldn't have this with anyone else, this comfort and feeling of home was something you never felt until Steve. Everyone was shocked when the two of you moved in together, but you hadn't wanted to let this feeling slip through your fingers, and you were even more grateful now that you had made the decision to do so.

Without thinking much of it, you sat your book down and stood up, moving to Steve. After pressing a kiss to his forehead you grabbed the dirty cup of water and moved to the kitchen just feet away to refresh it for him.

You felt his gaze follow you, as it always did when you moved about. He tried not to admit it but he was truly shocked as to how he got so lucky to be with you. Someone so caring, driven, and open minded. Someone who's inner beauty matched their appearance, who was definitely way out of his league in his opinion and didn't have a care in the world for how small he was. A girl who was almost too ambitious and too determined for her own good. You inspired him, way more than you knew at this point.

"Whatcha painting, dear?" Your voice cut through his thoughts as you came back with the fresh water, only trying to peak at the pad of paint paper a little.

The flush that covered his skin was far too obvious for him to play off, and he tripped over his words as he talked, "it's uh, nothing - really - I mean it's not nothing but-"

The light laugh that fell from your lips caused him to blush even darker. Steve watched as you leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before kneeling beside him. The look you gave him was too pure and sweet and he knew he wouldn't be able to resist whatever you requested of him next.

"Can you please show me some of your paintings, Stevie? You paint so much and I feel like this is a piece of you I don't know much about." The sweetness and curiosity had him cliff diving head first into falling in love with you all over again.

"Uh, s-sure." Steve did well of hiding the one he had been working on, sitting it aside and out of view as he flipped through a few pages of his painting paper and showed you a picture he painted of a garden.

Your breath was practically stolen as your gaze danced across the intricate detail of the picture he was showing you. Variants of almost every shade in the rainbow were whisped across the paper, creating a beautiful scene of blooming flowers and bushes, caged in by a white picket.

"You can paint? Like, really paint?" The statement came as more of a question, almost in disbelief with what you were seeing. You had sworn painting was just a pass-time type of hobbie for Steve, but you were wrong, way wrong. It wasn't a hobbie, it was a talent.

"A little bit, yeah, I guess," he mumbled, bashful and still not use to any type of praise. "I had- I had painted that one night after we had talked about buying a house one day. You said you wanted a little cottage with a white picket fence and a huge garden. I figured, if I couldn't give the real thing to you, I could at least paint you something close to it."

Your heart practically broke and swelled all at once. The sincerity of this man never ceased to baffle you. "Stevie! You call this a little bit?" You exclaimed. "This is beautiful. Can you show me another?"

He smiled, shy but hopeful and nodded. Steve moved down to sit on the floor with you, pulling a few of the papers out to lay across the floor, all different scenes of things you had talked about wanting to do together. A little bakery, a blue cottage, a cabin and lake. Your eyes scanned across every one, seeing every little detail and color, feeling like you were seeing a scene out of a movie, feeling like you could have actually been there.

"Steve, love, these are amazing," you breathed out, voice soft and quiet.

"I painted them for you," he admitted, voice just as hushed. He avoided looking at you, but you couldn't help but look at him after that admittance. "When I found out about getting recruited I starting painting everything we ever wanted to do together so you could hang them up or keep them to remember me, so you wouldn't forget me."

"Forget you?" The little pang of hurt was evident in your voice. "Stevie," you leaned over, cupping his face with your hand and making him look at you. A quiet exchange of sad smiles before you pressed a kiss to his lips, a promise, "I'll never forget you. I love you."

Steve smiled a little more brightly. "I love you too, doll."

"But," you voice had a tease, trying to keep the mood light and happy. It wasn't time for tears, not yet. You wanted as many happy moments with him as possible before he left, "you have to promise not to forget me."

Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head, "I couldn't if I tried."

And little did you know, the painting he set aside was his way of making sure he didn't forget you. That he wouldn't forget the way your hair sat against your skin, or the bridge of your nose, or any freckle and smile line. The warmth that emanated from you or the curve of your lips in a resting smile.

No picture could do any of that, any piece of you justice. So, Steve didn't rely on a picture, instead he just painted his favorite muse. After a moment of hesitation he moved to grab it. It wasn't quite finished, but almost there and done enough to show you.

"I painted those for you, but I'm painting this one for me, to keep with me while I'm away."

Steve sat back down, showing you the all too realistic portrait of you reading a book, in the position you'd taken comfort in over the last week. Your breath had truly caught in your throat this time, times welling as emotions bubble in you. "See, doll, I can't forget something I've painted."

Tags: @lokilvrr @hurricanerin @kcd15

#jbbuckybarnesBirthdayChallenge #jbbuckybarnes #writing challenge #steve #steve rogers #pre serum steve #pre serum steve rogers #steve fluff #steve rogers fluf #preserum steve rogers fluff #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #preserum steve rogers x reader #preserum steve x reader #fluff #reader insert #marvel x reader #marvel fluff

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dark-and-kawaii · 5 years

Note

Kiwiiii =_= ive been waiting to see if you ever write for any of the kuroko boys again and here we are. As Kiyoshi Senpai would say, let's all have some fun! How would our bad boys feel when their fem s/o asks to do their makeup 🐞

Awh, I’ve honestly missed writing for my basketball babes (^w^)

EHEHE!!! Kiyoshi is right! Let’s all have some fun, yeah??? This request is making me feel so many things since I myself am a makeup artist!!! Thank you so much for sending this in love bug!!!

Yamazaki:

Bless his heart, because this boy is the absolute best.

Kicking open his bedroom door -makeup pallets in hand- your eyes are practically glowing with so much passion as you run towards him. “Yams!!! Look!! Look!!!” Pressing your pallets against his face he already knows the next thing you’re about to say… “I just got some new pallets!!” -twirling around your skirt lifts ever so slightly and our sweet bad boy is smiling with how cute you are with all your excitement.- “I already have makeup on…. ~sooooo could i please use your face as my canvas?!”

Yamazaki will of course say yes. He’s mainly curious to see what you can pull off and he’s never had makeup on before so he’s also curious as to how it feels….

Will sit as still as he possibly can but his nerves kick in and his knee begins to bounce around which isn’t the best for you since you’re trying to do his mascara…

You definitely end up poking him in the eye with mascara since he won’t stop bouncing his knee.. And when you try to reapply it he leans back every time while squinting at you… It’ll take years for him to ever trust such a product again, especially in your hands…

Will sit and make kissy faces at you when you apply the lipstick / cracks jokes about how the team would be gay for him.

When the process is all over and you’ve finished his makeup, Yamazaki can see how sad you look since you were having so much fun with him and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying this time with you as well… Picking up one of the pallets you seemed most interested in, Yamazaki will stand from where he was sitting and tell you to sit down. “I want to try doing your makeup, ___.”

Yamazaki will gently wipe off the makeup you had on previously and once its all wiped off he will then attempt to apply makeup to your face….

Just as you did to him… He did to you with the mascara… You and Yamz will never trust one another with mascara ever again.

Hara:

Hara just pops his gum as you sit in front of him silently wide eyed awaiting his reply… He pops another bubble… And you can’t take it anymore. “So!? What’s the answer Hara? Will you let me play with my new makeup with you or not?? It should be at my place by now and i really think it would be fun for us!”

Hara makes an annoyed sound as he pops yet another bubble, “Sure, but only if you give me a blow job after.” You can hardly believe it…. that’s a lie… you can believe he would say something like that…. With disgust written all over your face you get up from your desk and begin to storm out while harshly saying, “FINE! I’ll find someone else!! Someone who doesn’t need or want anything in return except fun memories!”

It takes only 2 minutes before Hara is sitting up from his very own desk going after you. Maybe that was a bit too harsh, you’re always doing for him and unlike his previous girls he wants to keep you around.

Eventually finds you on your front steps holding your new Jeffree Star lipsticks and pallet. Taking one of the lipsticks out of your hand he opens it and applies it best he can before pressing his lips together making a popping noise. Smiling at you he pulls back his bangs from his face and asks you if you can help make him a pretty girl.

Turns out to be a fun night with Hara. Applying makeup to him is easy thanks to his smooth skin and him being patient with you.

Asks if he’s getting anything in returned like sex or a BJ, you just smack him upside the head though.

Hara surprisingly likes the feeling of eyeshadow being applied to his eyes, your brush is extremely soft and the smooth swiping motions on his eyes is quite calming. Will ask you questions about what does what and what the purpose is… It’s not that he cares it’s just he really wants to make up for how he acts at times -lowkey hopes it scores him points with you-.

Once his makeup is complete he will tell you to stay in the bathroom as he goes into your room and raids your panty drawer. No no no. It’s not what you think. Once he’s done doing what he wanted, he will come back to your bathroom and there standing before you is one tall ass basketball player wearing your V-string and sport bra… Popping his gum Hara smirks at you, “Mommy is ready for her punishment daddy ____.”

Hara is cringe.

Seto:

Seto is so chill my god.

At first Seto isn’t the biggest fan of the idea and he does tell you no the first two times you ask. However as you lay on his chest looking up at him with teary eyes begging him to let you apply makeup to him he can’t help but smirk. “Someone’s quite persistent, aren’t they?” Placing his hand atop your head he tousles your hair and says fine, but only if he can sleep through most of it.

Sitting up on his chest you peck his nose and agree to this! Most of the makeup can be applied with his eyes shut and it’ll be easier to apply the eyeshadow! “Thank you Seto! I will even hide that mole of your forehead since you hate it so much!!!” You say with one of the sweetest tones he’s ever heard.

It’s honestly a win win for the both of you. 1st you’re getting to put makeup on your very tough looking boyfriend who is deemed a bad boy in your school. 2nd He loves the feeling of you straddling his chest as you apply the makeup and he’s gotta admit… the powder brush feels pretty damn great.

Once you’re all finished you hand him your glittery mirror and say “BOOM THATS THE POWER OF MAKEUP BABY!!!” His mole is concealed and the pink eyeshadow you applied pops thanks to his darker skin…. His eyes are wide with a bit of concern, he’s heard horror stories of neon shadow staining eyelids…. which guess what… it did…. And the next day he’s going to school with pink eyes and the guys all laugh. However, Seto shrugs it off. It made you happy and that’s what’s important.

Furuhashi:

Staring out his bedroom window you watched as the rain continued to tap against his window. Between the roaring thunder, Furuhashi’s soft voice, and dark sky, you were slowly starting to doze off… Until your elbow was harshly nudged by another. Furuhashi was gazing at you with his iconic dead fish eyes… He had been trying to help you study but he just couldn’t keep you focused long enough, “____, if you don’t want to study why did you ask?”

It’s not like you didn’t want to study, honestly. You were falling behind in your language class and he was the best person to ask… and also the only person he’d be okay with you asking since deep down Furuhashi was a bit possessive… Poking his cheek softly with your sanrio pen you asked in your most angelic voice, “~Ko, could i please apply my makeup to your handsome face? It would help wake me up and change the mood in the room.” Adding the puppy pout you looked so pathetic, it made him want to hurt you…

With a great big sigh, Furuhashi finally caved. He hated makeup being on his face and this wasn’t his first rodeo which is exactly why he always gave you a blank stare and walked away when you asked in the past. His young sister has done this to him in the past and he absolutely hates the way it feels on his face, not only that but it gives him anxiety.

Doesn’t look thrilled 90% of the time you’re applying your makeup on him. Will look curiously at certain products and arch his eyebrow at you as you dip your brush into the odd looking product in your hand. Asks questions and will grab your wrists when he sees a color he isn’t too fond about -reminds him of the time his younger sister did it and it stained-.

Will smile ever so gently at you when you’re turned around reaching for a new product as you ramble on about how it works better than the other brands. Furuhashi actually finds you quite adorable at the moment, he’s amazed you’re so passionate about makeup. And as he turns around to look in the mirror -with you still turned around- he’s even more amazed at just how talented you are at it. It makes him want to continue to protect you so you can accomplish your beauty dreams without any interference, though he’ll never admit that openly to you.

Hanamiya:

Hanamiya has never been so damn annoyed or tired in his entire life, and he’s been through quite the irritating situations before. However as you continue day in and day out asking him… no, scratch that… begging him if you can put makeup on his pasty face his eyes grow more tired and exasperated.

Eventually snaps on you and makes you cry by calling you an annoyance and that you’ve been nothing but a pest the past week. Give it about an hour though, deep down he knows he messed up and with a click of his tongue he’s off to find you.

“Hanamiya! I challenge you to a basketball game!!” With unstable quivering legs, you stood as tall as you can as you throw the basketball at the back of Hanamiya’s head…. Ah yes, this is why he loved you and kept you around, not only were you always pulling dumb stunts around him but you also tried to act as if you weren’t afraid of the consequences. Turning around with a devilish smirk, hanamiya replied to you as he picks up the orange sport ball, “Oh? And what might my little ____ want if she wins?” He knew you didn’t have a chance but this was too much fun seeing you have so much hope just so he could take it away.

“I-If i w-win I get to ap-apply my makeup to you… I- I-” Looking down with sullen eyes your voice became low and Hanamiya could hear the deep dejection in it… “I’m just really nervous because this Salon got ahold of me and asked if i could come in a show them my skills… Th-that they are interested in having me there with them… but i wanted to practice on an actual person… i- This was dumb, gomen’nasai Makoto…”

Before you could even walk away the basketball had made contact with the back of your head this time. Twirling around holding the back of your head you saw that Hanamiya’s eyes were concealed with his jet black hair but his signature grin was fully on display, “Oi oi, who said you could walk away from me? Let’s play.”

It took a solid two hours but you finally managed to beat Hanamiya… Not that you won by pure skills or anything, Hanamiya had let you win.

Applying his makeup actually ends up being more fun than you thought it would be, though there were a lot of times where he was making it difficult for you -surprise-. Hanamiya will “accidentally” knock a brush out of your hands here and there along with blowing the eyeshadow right off your shadow brush. You don’t know what overcame you but in the heat of the moment you decided to just dump your loose glitter all over his head since he wouldn’t stop acting out, and with a booming laugh you hold your stomach as you die from pure joy after seeing his face.

The atmosphere in your bathroom has changed drastically and his presence is menacing… “Ha-Hanamiya… i- I-im so sorry i just.. I thought it wou-”

Grabbing you by your throat Hanamiya pins you against the sink as his mouth gets dangerously close to your ear. You can feel his hot breath as he whispers in your ear, “I think it’s time you learned your place, pet.” You’re frightened and unaware of what to do until you feel loose face powder his your face, “BAAAAKA!” Sticking his tongue out at you Hanamiya proceeds to coat your face with loose powder.

#KNB #kuroko no basket #hanamiya makoto #seto kentaro #furuhashi kojiro #hara kazuya #yamazaki hiroshi #Kirisaki Daiichi #kirisaki dai ichi #kurokos basketball

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yama-o-utsusu · 4 years

Text

Boruto children designs

This post is several months too late but since I’m kinda back on this blog, I might as well make it.

This will be a critique of some of the Boruto designs as well as a small guide on how to go about designing a child of already established characters. Mostly naruto-centered but maybe it will come in handy for someone people out there.

Let’s start by deciding what makes a good design. For this I’ll use the best child design in Boruto: ChoCho. Here’s a small collab to make it easier to visualize.

Color choice. Cho Cho’s colors are very harmonious and work well with each other. She’s got more brownish hair colour after Choji, but it’s being warmed by Kauri’s red hair. ChoCho’s skin colour was also adjusted and, if you look closely, it’s a bit more orange to fit her hair better. When it comes to her outfit, white seems to be the most dominant colour, clearly referencing to Kauri. Still, the thing that gets our attention is yellow, which fits her eye colour and does wonders for balancing her design. It also adds that unique touch to her as a character.

Design elements. ChoCho’s design takes heavily from her parents but it does it smartly and creatively. Just like Choji’s shippuden outfit references more japanese armor, ChoCho’s design also references more traditional attire, a kimono. From Kauri she got her thigh-high boots and her little hair tie (take a look at Kauri’s earrings and then at ChoCho’s hair ties. That’s a brilliant re-use of an element!). It’s also worth noting that her pigtails are a reference to Choji’s part one design.

The differences. For now we talked about similarities, but let’s talk about what makes ChoCho different. Her hair: even though both of her parents’s hair are naturally spiky, hers is more smooth and falls naturally onto her back. However, spikes aren’t exactly gone and they were re-used on her pigtails. It’s a great touch that’s not too much overwhelming but makes all the difference. Devil is always in the detail. What I think is one of the most important things here is that ChoCho doesn’t have Chojis cheek-spirals. 99% of the time they are character-unique. Don’t try to force them onto the child, it makes them seem more of a carbon copy, even though the rest of the design might be okay.

To summarize:

Mix and re-use elements smartly, don’t just copy-paste them. Settle on a color pallet and follow it. Always remember to add unique touches. Even though a character is a child of two others, they’re a human being on their own, not clones. For Naruto characters, try to use both part 1 and shippuden designs, it will give you more ideas to follow.

Few tips I’d like to add:

Pick your battles (one parent will always seem a bit more dominant design-vise. Nothing wrong with that!)

Genetics. If one character is blonde and the other has dark hair, the chance that child’s hair will be light blonde are minimal. Try to balance things a bit more.

If a parent character hast their own existing, canon parents (Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, Kakashi ect.) don’t be afraid to use them. A lot of children are even more similar to their grandparents than to their parents. Some genes also can skip a generation. Use it to your advantage.

Designs can tell a lot about personalities. You can describe your character’s relationship with her parents through their design.

if a character is from a clan, feel free to reference other clan members. Especially when they have very similar looks (Dark-haired Hyuugas and Uchihas, Inuzuka’s face markings ect).

Now onto the bad Naruto designs. Some of them are better than the others and some of them are atrocious. Note that these do not reflect my opinion of characters personality, only on design. From bad to worse:

1. Himawari - Himawari’s design is not that bad. I actually quite like it, I think her hairstyle was done really, really well (references both Hinata and Naruto visually yet makes it unique) and it’s definitely the strongest part of her design. The topic of eyes is relative, I think that at least one of the children of NaruHina should have Hyuuga’s light eyes, that being said: It’s honestly not that big of a deal. There is one thing, however, that bothers me to no end. The whiskers. They were an attribute of Naruto and him only, a reference to Kyuubi and something that gave him that characteristic look. I firmly believe they downgrade Himawari’s design heavily and make her seem more of a copy that she actually is.

2. Boruto - A carbon copy of his father, Naruto with one whisker less and longer hair. If I asked someone who just finished part 1 on who is the mother of Boruto, they wouldn’t know. Absolutely zero from Hinata’s design. I’d normally put him lower, but the ones beneath him are even worse.

3. Inojin - Sai with a wig and eye-contacts. The outfit is a very poor attempt at mixing his parents designs (it’s way too obvious). And the hair color, the eyes... why? I could understand blonde hair, but at least give him darker eyes. Anything. And his hairstyle? Sai with a ponytail. God, it’s so lazy.

4. Shikadai - Shikamaru with Temari’s eyes. And that’s it. They didn’t even tried to give him a different hairstyle. There’s not defending this, honestly.

(Dis) Honorary mention: Metal Lee (we don’t know his mother so I didn’t include him specifically, but he is still pretty bad).

#naruto #boruto #should i tag this as characters or not #probably not #anti boruto #chocho akimichi #naruto design guide

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

Text

Husband, Guardian, Muse - Chapter 3/3 (Rated NC17)

Summary: After the untimely death of his husband and muse, Crowley tries to find the simplest, most foolproof way to join him. But in the days that follow, he discovers that sometimes what looks like an ending can turn out to be a beginning, and that no one is ever really gone if we find a way to remember them.

Notes: Human au. Warning for character death, thoughts of suicide, alcohol abuse, and sexual content.

Read on AO3.

The voice told him to paint what he wanted. Now, Crowley had to decide what that was.

The answer was simple.

Crowley wanted an ending.

That’s what he had thought right before he heard that silent command.

He wanted it all to end – the pain, the sadness, the hallucinations. But mostly, his life without Aziraphale.

So that was the secret then. He would paint an ending to it all – his ending. How this all plays out starting with Aziraphale dying, these days of torture, and then … well, however Crowley thought to do himself in. He hadn’t given it any thought. It was a simple thing to say that he wanted to end his own life, but the logistics of it were another monster entirely. He’d spent the past few days feeling like his days were numbered, that his body would tear itself to pieces, but he was slowly getting better.

So the task fell on him.

Crowley returned to his easel. He tossed the ruined canvas aside and replaced it with a longer one, one with enough room to paint a multi-paneled work. He collected up his pallet, satisfied with the acrylics that were left and not giving a second thought to the puddle of paint he was standing in. He picked up a brush, not particularly concerned with whether it was camel hair or synthetic, medium tip or broad, and held it over the churning sea of tacky paint. He needed to choose his first color, one that would tie together the overall theme.

That should be relatively simple. He was painting a triptych of his own death. He would start with black or red.

But when he tried to dip the bristles into one of those two colors, he found the brush called somewhere else. He clenched his teeth and tried again with the same frustrating result – he’d reach for the red, but the brush was pulled to the blue.

“Fine,” he growled. “Fine, fine, fine, fucking fine!” He pulled up a huge dollop of blue and hurled it at the canvas, letting the paint land carelessly with an obscene sploitch, the hulking mass grotesquely crawling south.

“Well that’s mature . ” Aziraphale watched as Crowley put the finishing touches on his latest painting. “I don’t think the gallery is going to want that one.”

“I don’t care,” Crowley returned, not bothering to look at his husband standing by his side. “Paintings are about emotion, how they make you feel, and this one’s making me feel better.”

“A painting of us barbecuing the neighbor’s dog?” Aziraphale tilted his head to the side to take in the vivid imagery of a smug Crowley, dressed in a toque and a gingham apron that read ‘Kiss the Cook’ across the front, tongs raised triumphantly, and in their metal grip, the charred leg of Roy and Sylvia Harding’s Airedale Terrier, Mitzy.

“You know, I ’ d think you would have more sympathy. The little jerk bit me ! ” Crowley griped, indicating his bandaged hand.

“You bit him back!” Aziraphale chuckled. “I think that makes you even.”

“I don’t,” Crowley mumbled.

Aziraphale inched closer to the painting, quietly appreciating the detail Crowley had put in – the grain in the wood of the red - washed picnic table; the springy hair on the carcass of the dead dog; even Aziraphale’s own ensemble – his favorite khaki pants and blue button down, his soft velvet vest , his light grey coat. Crowley watched his husband’s eyes as they traveled over his work, lip pinched between his teeth, his brow furrowed in concentration. Aziraphale turned his head suddenly, blushing at getting caught admiring his husband’s handiwork on such a gruesome subject.

Owing to love, knowledge, and familiarity, added with a dash of the fact that, after so many years of sharing the same heart and the same mind, they often thought alike, both men moved in at the exact same time for the kiss that seemed to linger in the air, waiting for them to experience it.

Aziraphale gave a sidelong look at the painting and chuckled when he noticed how close his face was to a screaming and horrified Sylvia Harding, rending her clothes in an expression of her grief.

“Okay, I’ve got to get away from this thing.” Aziraphale ducked his head and caught a glimpse of Crowley’s bandaged hand, a spot of red blossoming on the wrapping. “Oh, my dear boy !” He took Crowley’s hand in his and started to undo the gauze. “We have to re - wrap this so it doesn’t get infected.” Aziraphale tutted disapprovingly. “I wish you would let me take you to the hospital.”

“Why? When I’ve got you here to play my nurse?” Crowley put his pallet down and wrapped an arm around Aziraphale’s waist, dragging him close. Crowley wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Aziraphale pulled a face of mock horror.

“Come on, Aziraphale,” Crowley whispered. “I think I need to undress so you can take my temperature.”

Aziraphale threw his head back and laughed. Then he kissed Crowley on the mouth, chuckling when his husband released him to undo the buttons of his shirt one-handed.

“You know,” Aziraphale whispered against Crowley’s lips, grimacing at the confession he was about to make, “charred dog notwithstanding, it really is an excellent painting.”

Crowley stepped back to view his work, but once again, what had started out as one thing had developed into another. He had painted several paintings within a painting – an image of himself standing and staring at a painting with Aziraphale by his side, staring at a painting of Crowley staring at the same painting with Aziraphale by his side, standing and staring at the same painting on and on for infinity. In the painting, Crowley wore the same clothes he did now, his untidy hair plastered flat on one side of his head, his pallet dangling from his hand with the paint swirled together in a blotchy mess. Crowley regarded the painting closely, his heart racing. If Aziraphale was standing a bit behind him and to the right in all these paintings, could that possibly mean …

Crowley jumped when a hand touched his shoulder.

He turned, and a face closed in on his - cool lips pressing gently against his mouth. Crowley’s heart stopped when the face pulled away and he saw those blue eyes that he missed more with every passing day.

Aziraphale looked perfect, his ethereal beauty completely intact, the way Crowley remembered him. Aziraphale smiled at his husband, sorrow shifting his features.

“It really is an excellent painting,” he said, motioning to Crowley’s artwork with a nod of his chin.

Crowley didn’t want to look away, but he felt compelled to look back at the painting when Aziraphale mentioned it. Crowley had painted forever - the two of them together, stretching on into the future for an eternity. If he had to be honest with himself, that’s what he wanted.

He didn’t want to die.

He wanted his husband.

He turned back to Aziraphale, to ask him how he could make that happen, but Aziraphale was gone.

***

Crowley spent the following three days straight at his easel, the words paint what you want repeating in his ears. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep. All he did was paint. He wanted his life with his husband back, so he started from the beginning, when he and Aziraphale first met. Crowley painted Aziraphale standing by the pond in St. James Park, watching the ducks swim by, the sun shining behind him creating a halo effect around his soft, blonde hair. He’d looked like an angel in his long white coat, so much so Crowley had been afraid to talk to him. Crowley painted the way Aziraphale’s eyes held his the first time they spoke to one another, when Crowley remarked about the current state of affairs and it took Aziraphale a whole half-minute to realize someone had addressed him. He painted the blush that had risen to Aziraphale’s cheeks when Crowley made a particularly randy joke (in a failed attempt at flirting), and his admiration when he told Aziraphale what he did for a living.

He painted Aziraphale opening his bookshop, Crowley rushing through the door in the background with a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates to celebrate. He painted Aziraphale walking the rows and stacks for hours, reading each novel as if they were a part of his own private library, which they might well have been since he consistently avoided selling anything.

He painted every lunch they shared at The Ritz on a wall-size canvas in multiple panels, changing their features as they aged, and on their respective ring fingers - faint at first, but becoming darker as time passed and they fell deeper in love - a single red thread that connected them.

During the course of those days, Crowley burned through his acrylics and had to call in a favor to another local artist to get more. While he waited for his shipment to arrive, he sketched. He went through sketch pad after sketch pad, finally resorting to paper from his printer, and after that, the newspapers stacked by the front door, never read but waiting to be recycled. He painted and sketched his and Aziraphale’s entire life together, and when he was done, when the final painting was set aside to dry, he waited for something to happen. A voice. A giggle. Another kiss.

Anything.

Crowley climbed into bed, his muscles sore, eyes crossed from exhaustion. He fell asleep waiting and awoke the next morning to the sun warm on his face, his skin and clothes thoroughly stained, and his husband nowhere to be seen.

He felt like a fool. A grief stricken fool which made his actions understandable, but still a fool. He had made it all up in his mind, indulged in this fantasy for far too long, missed his deadlines and pushed aside his plans.

Well, not any more.

Crowley knew what he needed to do, and he had the adrenaline coursing through his body to do it. In his stash, he had a bottle of Xanax, a bottle of Halcion, and two bottles of vodka.

If he took them together, with any luck, it would be quick and painless.

He hurried into a living room littered floor to ceiling with pictures of Aziraphale, paintings of Aziraphale, charcoal sketches on every possible surface of Aziraphale, moving to the walls when he ran out of paper and his replacement paints and canvases had not yet arrived. There were so many images of Aziraphale throughout the room that Crowley almost missed him, wandering through the paintings, fingers hovering over, tracing outlines of his own face. Crowley came within inches of him on his way to the kitchen, stopping short at the intense look in his eyes.

Aziraphale still looked ethereal, but he also looked real.

“They’re beautiful!” he gasped. “Every single one is just … beautiful! They may be your finest work!”

Crowley choked. This had to be a dream because the reality was too fantastic to believe. But Aziraphale’s eyes looked sad, and Crowley didn’t understand why.

“Are you really here?” Crowley asked. “Or are you going to haunt me forever?”

Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”

“I want you here! I need you, Aziraphale! I need you to come back to me!”

Aziraphale looked at the paintings, the drawings. “You painted my past, Crowley.” He reached out to caress an image of the two of them locked in an embrace, eyes closed as they kissed, caught up in their own little world as parents with children and park vendors raced by, eager to get out of the sudden downpour. Even Crowley had to admit it looked so real, he could almost see the people move, the children struggle to break free and splash in the puddles, Aziraphale’s lips against his.

It was their first kiss.

An epic kiss.

“I need you to paint my future,” Aziraphale explained, beginning to fade. “Then, you can have me.”

Crowley shook his head, exhaustion turning desperation to anger. He had painted for three days straight to have Aziraphale. Now he was disappearing again because Crowley hadn’t done enough!?

“What future, Aziraphale!? You didn’t get a future! You didn’t get a future because of me! Because I fucked up!” Crowley was screaming even though he didn’t mean to. He was lost, lonely, felt like he was going bonkers. He was standing in the center of what could easily be labeled the creepiest memorial to his dead husband ever, arguing with a ghost. But none of that mattered because Crowley was tired of waiting, tired of being tested. He had a future planned for him and Aziraphale, and he was ready to get back to it.

“You’re here now! I don’t care if I never paint again! I don’t want to paint! All I want is you!”

Aziraphale shook his head, backing away, his body becoming more and more faint with every step. Crowley panicked. He rushed at Aziraphale, determination in his blood-shot eyes, ready to re-claim his life and his husband. But as Crowley reached Aziraphale, he dissolved into thin air. Crowley stood alone in the mid-morning light, listening as the rest of the world sprang to life outside – birds singing, insects chirping. Crowley hadn’t realized that while Aziraphale was there everything had gone quiet, like time had stopped. But now it marched on with absolutely no respect at all for Crowley’s frustration and pain.

“Fine,” Crowley scowled. “If that’s the way you’re going to be about it, we’ll play this game your way!”

Crowley put a blank canvas on his easel and grabbed a pallet containing oils – a medium he wasn’t fond of, but he didn’t want to waste time rummaging through his acrylics for the colors he needed when this one was available.

Besides, Crowley considered oils a bitch to work with.

Seemed fitting.

Crowley didn’t take a moment to regard the canvas, search out the painting within. He knew what he wanted. He wanted Aziraphale, naked in bed, panting with want, skin flushed, writhing against the sheets as he dreamed of Crowley joining him and relieving him of his agony.

Crowley attacked the canvas, and not just with his brush. He moved through the paint with his fingers as he defined the lines of Aziraphale’s arms. He cut through the oil with his pallet knife, giving depth and dimension to the comforter on the bed. He sliced and manipulated, the colors blending till what he had intended to be a simple portrait of his husband lying in bed became the culmination of all his passion, bleeding through his pores and coursing from his fingertips. Unlike his other paintings, which only took a matter of hours, this one he worked on all day. He didn’t notice when the sun began to sink into the horizon and the room went black.

He knew Aziraphale’s body so well he could paint it with his eyes closed.

And the image was perfect – Aziraphale’s skin glowing against a frame of red satin sheets, plump lips parted, eyes searching, arm outstretched, pointing to where Crowley stood beside his masterpiece.

Crowley stared at the painting. And the more he stared, the more he could swear he saw Aziraphale breathing.

Crowley set his pallet down and ran a grungy hand through his hair, spreading paint along the strands. He was worn out, breathless, almost completely spent, but one word from Aziraphale would have sent him running to their bed.

If Aziraphale were there.

If Aziraphale was still alive.

He touched the frame of the canvas as a breeze spiraled through the room, carrying with it the most incredible sound.

“Crow-ley! When are you coming to bed?”

Crowley sucked in a breath and held it. He couldn’t let it go. A single noise, a single movement, and the voice might go away.

But he needed to know.

“A-Aziraphale?” Crowley stammered, sure that only the silence of the cottage would answer him.

“Crowley …” The voice - so light, so fair, so enticing and heartbreaking and miraculous - answered instead. “Please, stop painting and come to bed. You have all day to paint. We only have the night to spend together.”

Crowley backed away from the painting, gazing in reverence, expecting it to do something other-worldly … or maybe disappear. But it didn’t. The painting remained, and so did Aziraphale.

“Crowley! I am going to count to five and if you don’t …”

Crowley made it to him in three seconds flat.

That night, while making love to the man he thought he’d never see again, Crowley realized something so incredible, so indefinable, he felt no reason to try and explain it.

What good would it do?

He could spend the rest of his life with his husband, as long as he painted it that way.

***

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale whispered, clutching his husband’s arm. “They’re gorgeous! Every single one of them your best work, hands down!”

“Is that because you’re in every single one?” Crowley walked Aziraphale from painting to painting, stopping long enough in between so that his husband could examine the details at his leisure.

“I do lend a certain, how do you say, sophistication to your art. I won’t lie.”

“Of course not.”

Aziraphale didn’t go out in public often – at least, not where anyone knew them. But being photographed by the paparazzi couldn’t be avoided. Crowley had shot from semi-famous to super stardom in a few short months, all thanks to his muse.

Crowley tried his hardest to make Aziraphale as inconspicuous as possible so he could accompany him to the gallery and see his artwork hung and lit properly. That was a magical moment, Aziraphale said - wandering through the paintings the night before the public got the chance to see them, knowing that he was one of the first people to lay eyes on them.

Crowley had dressed Aziraphale to go out in head to toe black by way of a simple suit, with leather gloves, top hat, and glasses to match. Aziraphale had never been a big fan of black, but it was a necessary evil.

Whoever he was to prying eyes, he had to appear in mourning.

Speculation spread like wildfire when Crowley emerged from his cottage after months of isolation with a stack of new paintings in the back seat of his Bentley that he had found himself a new muse.

That he was no longer the grieving widower.

At first, the art community criticized him harshly, but they quickly forgave him, falling completely in love with his latest work – an homage to the brief but brilliant life of his husband, bookshop owner Aziraphale Fell.

Only their closest friends knew the truth.

And they didn’t care, as long as they got Aziraphale back.

Tracy said she wouldn’t care if Aziraphale were the devil himself. She was ecstatic to have her best friend, in whatever form, back on earth.

“How many are there?” Aziraphale gazed down the line of paintings, trying to take them all in at once, including the one that made this trip possible – a painting of him and Crowley strolling through the gallery, dressed the way they were now, admiring Crowley’s art. It was the painting that greeted visitors on their way in, and was titled (appropriately) “An Afternoon at the Gallery with Aziraphale”.

“Right now … about one-hundred and fifty.”

Aziraphale snapped his head left to look into his husband’s proud face, jaw dropped in disbelief.

“One-hundred and fifty? That’s almost …” He did some calculations in his head, coming up with an answer that boggled his mind “… five months we get to spend together!”

“Try two-and-a-half years,” Crowley corrected, preening with delight at the wide-eyed stare his revelation earned him.

“Two and a half …?” Aziraphale gasped. “But … but how?”

“This is how.” Crowley escorted Aziraphale through a set of double doors to a larger room, the walls re-painted white to better display the art. The room held easily eighteen wall-sized murals, each with a multitude of different panels depicting Crowley and Aziraphale vacationing in Paris, sitting in a gondola in Venice, exploring the Grand Canyon, or just ‘living’ – washing dishes, walking a dog, shopping at the supermarket … and quite a few of them making love.

Aziraphale stayed quiet for a long time, staring at the next few years of his life as Crowley had planned them.

Crowley felt an unnerving weight settle in his chest. For a moment, he feared this wasn’t what Aziraphale wanted. He didn’t want to lose Aziraphale. Not again. But what had he forgotten? What was missing?

“Aziraphale? For the love of God, Aziraphale! Tell me …”

“I love them!” Aziraphale threw himself into Crowley’s arms. “I love it! All of it! Our life together! It’s wonderful!”

“You really like it?” Crowley asked, overwhelmed by Aziraphale in his arms.

“I do!”

Crowley wasn’t done holding him, but Aziraphale pulled away, eagerly leading his husband farther in the room to examine those paintings as well. “But now we have to start planning ahead. I expect you to make me age gracefully - no premature balding or pot belly. I mean, my normal belly is fine. Just nothing too extreme. Father Christmas belly. That’s fine.”

“Good to know.”

“And my bookshop. I have every intention of going back.”

Crowley’s eyes grew wide. “But … but how?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Aziraphale said, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m sure Tracy can help me figure something out.”

Crowley rolled his eyes but listened carefully, setting Aziraphale’s notes to memory. “I’m sure she can.” He placed a kiss to the top of Aziraphale’s head. “What would you like to do now? The show doesn’t open till tomorrow. We have the whole day to ourselves.”

“The whole day, hmm?” Aziraphale’s lips curled. He walked straight to a painting done in muted, neutral shades of the two of them in bed, Crowley hovering over Aziraphale’s body, looking down at his husband with lust blown eyes, occasional highlights of black and red suggesting exactly what moment of desire it portrayed. “This one.” Aziraphale’s voice turned silky, a wash of seduction that made Crowley burn to take him right there. “I want this one.”

“You just want to snog,” Crowley teased, offering Aziraphale an arm.

Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled as he pulled Crowley towards the door. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” he said, biting his lower lip and giving Crowley inspiration for his next painting.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable lovers #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale

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nox-scrie · 5 years

Text

Liking Her Is Much Nicer Than Hating Her, Anyway

Okay so I know it’s the 27th now and I kind of forgot that Carry On Countdown even existed (I’m sorry) but I want to try to write everyday this year!! And This Is A Thing That I’m Really Proud Of, which I wrote in like two hours and it has some nice things happening.

Carry On Countdown: Day 2, Role Swap

Description: Penny, The Chosen One, shares a dorm room with Agatha, the perfect girl who (Penny is certain of it!) is secretly a vampire. In the last year of Watford, Penny will try uncovering her roommate’s secrets, but she may not like what she finds out.

Setting: Last year of school, The Humdrum does not exist, they’re all 18 so it’s legal to drink thanks UK, Baz has never been turned into a vampire and he is in a relationship with Simon, aaand Penny can contain her power.

Ships: Penny×Agatha (I’m not sure what’s their ship name) and Snowbaz ofc

Words: 3.8 k

Status: SFW (with some mentions of making out and the sudden appearance of A Bra!!!) and UNCORRECTED A LOT OF GRAMMAR MISTAKES I THINK GL READING IT

The feeling of dread started in her heart before she even opened her eyes. Once again she cursed her life, she cursed her mother for not stepping up and doing something about her idiotic roommate, she cursed her life and her existence and how unlucky she was. For now, a morning like any other.

As she opened her eyes, she was staring straight ahead at Agatha’s gorgeous, blonde hair and scoffed. She was snoring lightly, but even that seemed perfect when she did it. Agatha Wellbelove, as beautiful as she was cold, her worst enemy and the person that fueled her with rage everyday.

As if sensing her thoughts, Agatha turned around and faced her, lips chapped and slightly parted, her hair a yellow flag spread on the pillow. She was annoyingly beautiful and she knew it.

“Well good morning to you too, Bunce. Enjoying the view?” she asked, her voice husky, but somehow still mocking.

Penelope Bunce snatched the pillow from below her head and threw it at her, hitting Agatha right in the face. The little “oof” sound she made was totally worth the pain she felt, ten times worse, because the stupid anathema about not hitting your roommate extended to pillow fights too.

“I’m enjoying it better now.” she said to Agatha’s red, furious face.

Before she could retort, Penny got out of bed and right in their shared bathroom, hopping in the shower.

You would think that by being the Chosen One, The Saviour of the Mage World, Penny had a saying in who got to be her roommate. It wasn’t that Agatha wad necessarily a bad roommate, it was quite the opposite: her part of the room was annoyingly clean, all her papers in separate binders and potions stacked by color in magicked shelves. Penny was a disaster compared to her: her notebooks were stacked on the floor rather than on her desk, which was occupied by half-drinken green teas and more empty cups of coffee than she would like to admit, and her blankets were basically just piles of clothes forgotten to be arranged in her dresser. That’s how Penny grew up, in a house too small to fit so many people, in a head too small to fit so many ideas, in a body too fragile to handle all her magic.

But no, Agatha’s neatness was not what made Penny hate her: it was the fact that she was a vampire that did the trick. Penny was certain of it; what kind of roommate would just go out and about each and every night, come back with a flash against her normally paper-white skin, and sneak soundlessly in bed? She was hiding something, and Penny was hellbent to find the secret out.

When she got out of the shower Agatha was in a skirt and her bra; it was a really nice one too, pastel pink that made her pale skin seem almost transparent. Her skirt was high-waisted, a deep green which contrasted amazingly with her hair…

Agatha raised an eyebrow and only then did Penny realize that she was staring. She tightened her towel around herself, grabbed her uniform where it was hanged on her dresser and she rushed back into the bathroom, her heart racing.

A great start of a day that could only get worse.

***

“This day is amazing!”

Simon Snow, her best friend, dumb as night but in an endearing way, sat across from her, shoving piece after piece of scones in his mouth. Baz Pitch sat next to him, a slightly concerned yet stupidly in love expression on his face.

“Baz woke up with his hair all messed up, it was so funny I almost had a breakdown laughing.”

The dark-haired man scoffed; that was an expression Penny was more aquianted to. Simon has been Penny’s friend since day one: he was the kind and she was the cunning and together they made the greatest team in school. He used to live with a pixie in his dormroom, but since he got in a relationship with Baz they moved in in the same room: it was that easy. Penny slightly despised them for it.

“It was not that messed up. And if it was, there’s only you to blame. Yesterday night was-”

“None of my business!” Penny shouted from across the table, her hands covering her ears and looking at the increasingly red face of Simon and the mockingly satisfied one of Baz.

Baz was hard to let in, all shadows and dark mysteries. As she had grown more accustomed to how his expression softened around Simon, though, she found it impossible to see how she thought he was bad for them at first. They started having a pace in the year they have Snowbaz was a real thing: Penny was the power, Baz was the mind, Simon was the action. They were perfect for each other, like the pieces of a puzzle thrown apart a long time ago and reunited now.

That was the moment Agatha Fucking Wellbelove entered the cafeteria. Penny rolling her eyes was almost instinct now, and Simon didn’t even bother to turn away from his scones to watch her entrance, surrounded by her not-as-beautiful-but-still-annyoingly-pretty friends. Baz had turned, though, and then looked over to Penny, a curious expression on his face.

“Did she do anything this morning?”

The image of Agatha’s bra flew across Penny’s mind, but she shook her head in denial. Now was not the time to have such thoughts, and what even were these thoughts? Penny needed a tea. Scrap that, she needed her ring, a galoon of coffee and a direct target to her forehead.

“Just existed.”

“Oh, that’s just the wooorst.” Baz mocked, and his straight teeth flashed in a smile that made his skin look darker than usual.

“Should we discuss how you throwed Simon down a flight of stairs because you couldn’t handle your feelings for him, Pitch? Because I am so ready.”

“Oh, so your feelings for Wellbelove as the same as mine for Simon?” he teased back, and Penny retracted.

“You told me that was an accident!” Simon registered the conversation they were having a few moments too late, and he turned his head to Baz, his voice a few tones higher.

“Sure it was. I would never do anything to harm you, my love, no matter how great my gay denial was, or how your lovely bronze curls made me want to commit murder.” Baz said sweetly, flickering Penny a look.

She barely contained her laughter, until she sensed a presence behind her. Already touching her ring, she turned, and saw Agatha standing behind her. There was no tray in her skinny hands, and with the sun shining from behind her, she was no different than an angel.

“Bunce.” she said, her tone imperious, but Penny could only think of her voice this morning, all raspy and almost sad.

“Wellbelove. What can I do for you, and should I get ring ready?”

“As eager as she is beautiful.” she said, a mock in her tone that made Penny scrunch up her forehead. “I was wondering if I will see you at the Fest this evening.”

“What for, so you can feed me to himera?” Penny said, doubt in her voice.

“I don’t pull the same stunt twice.” Agatha shrugged. “Maybe I will ask you for a dance. You’ll see if you come.”

And then she just left. Penny stared dumbfoundedly in the space she occupied just a moment ago, and as she turned to the boys on the other side of the table they were looking at her with wide eyes.

“When did that happen?” Baz asked, and Simon had his mouth hanging open, a piece of scone glued to the the side of his mouth. Penny wanted to reach over to bat it away, but Simon started speaking before she had the chance.

“Yeah, Penny, what? Why didn’t you tell me that you and Agatha were a thing?”

The shriek that came from Penny’s throat was not human. “Excuse you?” she half-shouted.

Simon rolled his eyes, and the crumb fell in his lap. Baz absently picked it up and ate it.

“I may be dumb.” he frowned. “ I am dumb. But even I could pick up the hearts and rainbows in her eyes.”

“True. She always gave me lesbian-vibes but I’ve always thought that it was because of her color pallete. Oh, Crowley, Penny! She can teach you how to dress properly! This is the best day of my life.”

“No. What? NO. Guys. Agatha and I are NOT a couple. She despises me! She tried feeding me to a hungry chimera! She is always mocking me! AND she is a vampire!”

Baz only listened to half of what she said before he started piling up mashed potatoes on top of each other to resemble a very bad flight of stairs, and he placed two mini-tomatoes on top. He stared right into her eyes as one tomato pushed the other down. Penny swallowed and sent him a whitering look.

“I think vampires are pretty hot.” Simon said after a moment, unaware of what his boyfriend just confessed next to him. Baz sent him a glare. “Not hoter than you, of course, darling. But just saying, if you were to wear some fake fangs for the Fest this evening that… would be pretty wicked.”

Simon and Baz started staring at each other as if they shared a world in which nobody but them was allowed. Penny could respect that; she and Simon had a similar relationship sometimes, and her and Baz were starting to get there too, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t make a gag noise.

“You guys are the worst; I’m trying to eat here.” Penny said, but she was smiling.

For a moment she wondered if she could ever find a love like that too, and she turned her glance back, where Agatha stayed a few tables off. She was looking at her when Penny turned her head, but she didn’t break eye contact, only slightly turned her head to the side.

Penny started focusing on her food once again, but she knew she was not able to eat anymore, nervousness creeping into her stomach. If there was a chance for her to find that love, Wellbelove was sure to crush it in high-heeled shoes before she even aknowledged it.

***

Being the chosen one was hard as it was: Penny had a great power in her, so great that she almost didn’t manage to content, and she fought side by side with Simon, and now with Baz, everytime a new threat appeared. But being the daughter of the headmaster of the school of magic she was attending; it was harder.

She got much less privilages than one would expect, her mother standing tall and cold each time Penny came by her office to complain about the fact that Agatha was a vampire (“I will believe you when you bring me proof”) and that she wanted to kill her (“Nobody knew about the chimera, Penny. And you had that solved in the end, right? That’s what is important.”).

So, being the headmaster’s daughter, Penny was approximately obliged to attend each school event. It wasn’t something that usually bothered her: she could hang with her friends, eat as many marshmallows her heart desired and drink dandelion wine near her teachers without shame.

Tonight was different though: as she stared in the mirror and examined her costume, a traditional sari from her mother, she was feeling like something will happen. It was probably Agatha, who got a bag from her dorm this afternoon, promptly ignoring her, and never came back, and her stupid question.

Sighing, Penny checked if her hair was in place and stepped out of the bathroom, right when there was a knock in the door. Baz was on the other side, wearing black pants and a white shirt, showing his caramel-like chest, and a pair of fangs popping out of his mouth.

“It was that easy?” she asked, laughing.

“Shut up, Bunce.” he said, but it sounded more like “thatp banth”.

He extended an arm, and Penny realized that he was wearing a red-and-black cape too. It was ridiculous; there was no such a thing as an Egyptian vampire, but Penny was living for it.

They made their way in the courtyard, chatting about classes and teachers, mocking them and making slightly off impressions to make the other laugh (especially Penny, because she could barely understand him). Their friendship was easy like that, and Penny would lie if she said that she wasn’t grateful for it.

As they got to the party, Simon appeared out of nowhere, a pair of red, cartoonish wings and a demon tail, forked at the tip, as his Fest costume. There was no protocole for the Festivals, but dressing up was recommended: especially now, near the Halloween-season in the Normal’s world, many students decided to dress up, and it was pretty funny to see all of them putting effort in looking good for this one night.

When Simon saw Baz, his eyes widened comically and he pulled him down with a hand on his shirt for a kiss. Penny realized that it was a surprise for Simon, and smiled fondly, leavinf the two of them alone.

She made her way to the drinks table and poured herself a glass of wine, choosing a piece of pumpkin pie from a nearby desert table. The fire in the middle of the field was so high it was almost touching the sky, and Penny watched the flames dance with longing, to be so full of joy and passion, to live like that.

Agatha made her way towards her from the bonfire in an angel costume that was barely even there on her: she had a white glowing-stick halo, and a short, skin-tight dress. She was swaying slightly as she reached Penny, and started giggling.

Crowley, this will end in flames, won’t it?

“Are you drunk, Wellbelove?” Penny asked, and Agatha just snickered.

“As a kite! Wait, no, that’s high. I may be that too for all I know! The wine is amazing.”

Penelope looked down at her untouched glass and placed it back down on the table. Agatha’s brown eyes followed her, and a smile crept across her lips.

“Fair enough.” she said, but she wasn’t leaving, staring right at Penny instead.

“What do you want, Agatha?” Penny shook her head, breaking eye contact in the end.

“I want to talk to you, in fact. Come with me?” she extended a hand, but Penny batted it away.

“I’ll pass. Last time we went to talk, the chimera had more to say than you.”

“Please, Penny. Crowley, you’re so awful sometimes.” she shook her head, and looked across the field. “Oi! Baz! Come over here.”

Baz and Simon, who were making out against a tree, looked at each other, but made their way over them after a second. Agatha waited until they were a few feet away, and took out her wand from her knee-high boot, handing it over to Baz.

“Hold on to this while I chat with Penny for a couple o'minutes. Will you?”

Baz looked at Agatha for an intense second, then turned his eyes to Penny, a silent question in his look. Simon was not that subtle.

“I hope you know that if you hurt my best friend, I will end you. I will make you hate life so much you will regret that your great-great-great-grandfather was born and gave birth to all the other people before you.”

“That’s why I gave Baz my wand, Simon Sword-for-brain. Now, Penny, will you?”

Penny looked over to Baz’s hand, which held Agatha’s wand, and nodded, following the blonde in the forest. They didn’t go deep, just far enough for the chatter to be muffled but the flames to still lighten up the night. From her other boot, Agatha extracted a pack of cigarettes, and mumbled something that made it light up.

“You just casted a spell without a wand.” Penny was almost shaking with curiosity. “How… wow. That was so cool.”

Agatha shrugged with a shoulder and took a drag, extending it to Penny afterwards. Penny shook her head no, but she wasn’t sure what was she saying no to: the cigarette, the fact that she was smoking, that it wasn’t allowed to smoke on schoolgrounds or that she was able to cast a fire-spell without a wand, putting her in direct danger.

Before she expressed any opinion, though, Agatha started talking, the cigarette seemingly sobering her up, and Penny listened for once. Maybe it was because of the night, or Agatha’s dress, or the fire or how lonely she was, but in that moment Penny wanted to know what she had to say.

“My father hates me, you know.” she said, and then she laughed after a moment. “No, of course you don’t, sorry. Stupid question. He hates me, because he thinks… that my mother died because of me.”

Silence was a cloak over them; Penny watched the cigarette almost burnt to the filter, and just as it was dying Agatha took a last, long drag.

“There was a fire at Watford sometime ago.”

“Yeah.” Penny said, before she could stop. “More than ten years ago. A lot of victims. A vampire attack.”

“That’s right.” Agatha nodded, seemingly satisfied. “The infirmery was the place where the attack was held; I remember it in flashes: the white walls, with pink roses, the toys with missing parts and the cribs, wooden and so easy to burn.”

After a pause, Penny registred the true meaning of her words, and she took a step back. Agatha looked like she wanted to smile, but a sad expression was now hunting her face.

“Wait. You were there?” she asked, her voice little, Agatha farther away than she has ever been.

“I was. So was my mum. So were a dozen other children. They killed her right in front of me… and only because I was dumb enough to think that a rotten piece of a crib can do them any harm. She stepped in front of me, and he bit her. She was alive, Penny. She was alive when she looked at me, and sat herself on fire.”

She shook another stick in her palm, but her fingers were trembling too much to hold it properly. Penny didn’t think before taking a step forward and placing it between Agatha’s lips, concentrating her magic in her pointing ring, at the cigarette.

“Light'em up.” casted Penny.

Agatha looked at her, and her eyes were flames too as the tip of the cigarette caught fire. She took a drag, looked down, and back at Penny, inhaling sharply. Penny took a step back.

“She wa bond to become a vampire, but she chose suicide over that fate. She chose suicide over being a m-monster.” Penny thought Agatha might start crying, but her eyes remained dry. “Some of us were not so brave. I was not so brave.”

Penny looked at her, at her pale skin, at her skinny figers from around the cigarette and her haunted expression, and took the stick from between her lips. She took a drag, caught it inside her lungs and breathed out, feeling dizzy and out of this world. Penny smoked before, when she was 14 and she snatched a pack from her older brother, she coughed again and again, but didn’t stop doing it until she could make a circle out of smoke.

“You could have asked me for one for yourself.” Agatha mumbled, but she watched Penny silent after the purple-haired girl raised a finger to her face.

“Don’t. Let me think, Agatha.”

Agatha rasided an eyebrow, but watched silently as Penny finished the cigarette, because fuck the rules, Wellbelove just told her she is a vampire!

“Why?” asked Penny, despair in her voice. “Why now, why me, why?”

Shifting her focus to the party, Agatha took a little until she found the good response. Penny was so close to pointing the ring at her and casting a spell, anything, to make her talk, that she had to catch her ringed-hand with the other.

“I will leave school.” she said it so simply, just like she would say that the sun was hot or that Penny was a mess.

“What?” Penny realized how dumb she must sound, so she tried another word. “Why?” that was not better, but Agatha didn’t seem to mind the continuous scurt-circuit her mind was having, because she lit another cigarette wordlessly.

“I’m not powerful enough to be here; or at least that’s what my teachers say. I will leave and go to America, maybe Cali, the beaches are just the sweetest-”

“No. Agatha… you’re my roommate. You can’t leave, not with less than a year left of school.

"Pft. Like you would mind. You would have killed me yourself if it wasn’t for the Anathema, Bunce, and we both know it.”

“That’s- not. That’s not how it is… you are so powerful, you can even cast without a wand…”

“And you are the Chosen One. The thing is, nobody knows how powerful I might be, because I don’t show them? Why should I? They will kill me anyway if they ever found out that I was a vampire.”

Hearing her say it made Penny realize that it was all real, the way she rolled her stupidly pretty mouth around the word, how it sounded bitter and full of hate… and then Penny realized.

“You are flamable! Agatha, you can’t smoke! Holy Snakes, what if you die?”

Agatha pointedly took another long drag. “Doesn’t seem like it to me. If it was this easy as if lighting up a stick, then I would have done it much, much earlier. This way you wouldn’t have had to deal with me, right? The roommate whom you despise with all your heart and-”

The cigaretteflew out of her hand with a gesture from the chosen one, and Penny kissed her. It was awkward, because Agatha was much taller than Penny, and she had these stupid heels on and-

Agatha dragged her close, her slender hands embracing her waist. Penny sighed against her lips, and her mind was a white noise because she only ever wanted for her roommate to shut up, and she couldn’t, and she kept saying these stupid, stupid things so Penny had to do it.

They kissed for a long time, but Penny needed to breath, and took a step back. Agatha was staring at her wide-eyed and wad looking like a doe caught in the headlights, and for a reason she didn’t know, Penny started laughing.

It was all so dumb! In one day, her whole life was changed, and it was all because of a pink bra and a campfire. Agatha looked more collected now, but Penny found out that she liked the power she had over Agatha when they kissed, so they did it again.

Tomorrow they will have to talk about this. They will have to look at each other in the eyes, and Penny will have to convince herself that Agatha was not the enemy anymore, that she was just a normal vampire, no, a normal girl, who needed her help.

Under the starry night and accompanied by the tipsy laughter of the Watford students, Penny vowed to help her with every weapon she had. Like was a much nicer feeling than hate, anyway.

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silly-nonny-fics-are-for-fandoms · 6 years

Text

Gimme that boy

Bakukami Week Day four (Part two) : Makeup @officialbakukamiweek Summary: Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Kaminari is going out to a party, and he’s wearing makeup and Bakugo can’t handle it. Read on Ao3

Going out to a party was an epidemic for Kaminari. It always had been and always would be, plain and simple. Figuring out the right outfit, hair, and makeup, making sure to be ready to deal with drunk adults, the questions about his sexuality and the knowledge that someone, someone would bring the drinks to the dance floor and he'd get grinded on by a stranger.

Did those mean he didn't like them?

No. He loved parties. He enjoyed being able to let loose and dance, laughing with his friends and the idea of being able to go out somewhere new exhilarated him.

This time he'd been invited to a party with some old middle school friends, the kind who got themselves into more trouble than necessary.

"C'mon Firefly!" They'd said, over speakerphone no less in front of his new friends, "It'll be a blast! You can bring some of your new friends, too!"

'Firefly?' Mina had whispered to Kirishima, who shrugged and stared at Bakugo for an answer, Sero smirking to Kaminari's embarrassment.

"Fine. When is it?" He'd asked, being told the location and time.

Bakugo and Sero had refused the offer to go, though Kirishima and Mina were more than happy to meet Kaminari's old middle school friends and possibly get the story behind the nickname. Kirishima wasn't going to the party, but he'd introduce himself at least.

He wished everyone had agreed to go, really; parties were more fun when surrounded by people you knew, and as much as he loved his friends, they were the type of people to accidentally ditch you at any event.

He'd already showered and dressed; his leather knee-high heeled boots with dark ripped denim jeans showing fishnet tights underneath, a Prussian blue loose button up he'd gotten in the women's section and a black leather jacket to tie it all together. He'd let the waves of his hair run freely, not hindered by more than running his fingers through it for the sake of tidiness. Only one thing remained; the makeup.

Starting with primer, he gently massaged it into his skin before moving on to his concealer, lightly applied under and around his eyes before his foundation, applying a very light powder to do so. Next, eyebrows. A single shade darker than his natural hair carefully applied to achieve the perfect arch. Nice. Now, eye makeup.

Subtle pinks on his top lid, blended into a naturalistic brown by the crease and corner, small spotlight over the center of his eyelid. Small dots of white by the tear duct. Along the bottom lashline, a thin line of purple and blue which he blended into the brown. Applying his false eyelashes, he chuckled to himself and wondered what his friends would think of his outfit as a whole.

He rarely wore makeup, something he saved strictly for special occasions for the sake of time, but he did enjoy it. With makeup, in general, being in fashion, he owned a few different pallets to play around with for colors. While he waited for his eyelash glue to dry, he quickly applied a quick bit of highlighter bright enough to make Aoyama jealous. He applied mascara to his eyelashes to darken them, covering the gold which matched his hair.

To finish off his look, black eyeliner with a small, smooth wing so as not to emphasize his eyes much further.

Bright red matte lipstick, setting spray, then he was ready to go. Standing up and glancing at the mirror, he whistled. Damn.

"Kaminari! Are you ready?" Mina asked through the door, "Cause they're here to pick us up!"

"C'mon, you're gonna be late!" Kirishima urged, opening the door and looking in, face turning approximately fifty shades redder than his hero costume. "Holy... Wow."

"Thanks," Kaminari smirked, not even wobbling on his heels as he walked over, putting his wallet and phone into the pockets of his jeans.

"Get it boy~!" Mina cheered, looking him up and down. Her bodycon tye dye dress looked shabby in comparison; Even Kirishima, who apparently did own a singular outfit which fit well and didn't look horrendous paled in comparison.

"Ready to go party?"

"Kaminari is this a-" Kirishima started to ask, staring at his friend.

"No, not a club college party; unless they're running with the wrong crowd, they're not that different from us. Just a penchant for getting into, well, various kinds of trouble." He chuckled, remembering some of the various things they had told him about.

"Did you join them?" Mina asked as they walked to the stairs, Kirishima walking on the other side of his middle school friend.

"Not if it involved drugs or alcohol," He shrugged, "Went to a few parties. One of them was dating a high schooler from this school for delinquents, but I think she broke it off with him? I don't know, she was who got us into the biggest trouble."

As soon as they reached the common room, they spotted Sero and Bakugo waiting by the door, along with several pairs of eyes staring directly at Kaminari.

Katsuki Bakugo believed it should be illegal to be as pretty as Kaminari was in that moment. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Why had he refused to go to the party again? Right. He hated parties.

"Woah, looking good, Kaminari! Wait, are you wearing makeup?" Sero asked, the energetic blonde nodding with enthusiasm.

"Yeap! I figured, well, I'm going dancing with friends, I might as well make myself look pretty, right?"

"You always fucking look pretty!" Bakugo protested, glaring at the offending products like they had insulted his mother, "You don't fucking need makeup to look good."

"Coming from the hottest boy in class, that's rich." Kaminari sauntered right on past him, opening the door and heading out to his friend's car, Mina and Kirishima right behind.

Honestly, Bakugo hadn't even noticed the makeup at first. He thought Kaminari looked better without it; Smiling, his imperfections showing and not hidden. Obviously, Kaminari looked good in anything, which was mostly what had gotten him so embarrassed. No one person should look that good in anything.

So, of course, he had waited up for the dumbasses to come back. He waited until everyone had long since gone to bed, with a promise to Iida that he'd lecture the hell out of them. Finally, they walked in around one am, Mina's arm slung over Kaminari's shoulder and her heels in his left hand. She looked completely wrecked, partied out. Her whole face was fuschia.

Kaminari on the other hand, still in his heels and fucking makeup, only looked red and more focused on getting Mina somewhere she could rest.

"What fucking took you so long?" Bakugo hissed, Kaminari's amber gaze meeting his blazing crimson. He sighed and put Mina down on the long couch, where she immediately fell asleep and he sat down next to Bakugo, mumbling something.

"I'm only gonna ask one more time, Sparky. What. Fucking. Took so long?" Bakugo growled.

"Shhhhhh," Kaminari shushed him, holding a finger in front of his red lips, "You're loud."

Bakugo glared as a response.

"So. Yeah. Apparently, one of mine. Uh. Friends. Yeah. She had a quirk which... Uh. Got people drunk? On somethin'. Ethanol. That's it." His brain wasn't working right, obviously.

"Oh fuck, you're drunk." Bakugo rolled his eyes, helping Kaminari up shakily. The shorter male, now taller than Bakugo because of those fucking boots, mumbled something about not being drunk.

"Mina is, not me." He pointed to himself, "Just. Brain dead."

"So, drunk." He shrugged, "Where the fuck is those things..." Bakugo walked over to the bathrooms, unashamedly walking into the girl's room and grabbing a package of makeup wipes.

"No, I'm not." Bakugo had Kaminari sit down on one of the loveseats, taking off his heels as he opened the package, sitting next to him so they didn't disturb Mina.

"You're so fucking drunk. How long does this last?"

"An hour. It won't work twice in a row." He pouted, swatting away the other's hands. He leaned up, pressing those bright red lips to Bakugo's cheek, the teenager blushing brightly and making an odd, embarrassed noise.

"Fuck off!" He pushed the other away, breathing quickly. What the hell was that?! Why the fuck?!

Kaminari giggled, "C'mon, that's not the worst we've done."

"Fuck you!"

"You did, though. Two days ago?"

Bakugo pushed him down against the couch, "Shut up. Let me fucking get this stupid makeup off of you, idiot."

"Okay~" Kaminari relaxed, yawning and Bakugo handed him a makeup wipe, and slowly they got everything off of the blonde's face.

"Did I at least look good?" He asked cheeks tinted pink; from abrasion or embarrassment, it was unclear.

"You always fucking look good."

Kaminari hummed tiredly, leaning against Bakugo. "Yay...~"

"Okay, you've officially gone stupid. Fuck my life."

But Kaminari was already asleep, and Bakugo was tired. Laying down next to the other blonde, he appreciated Kaminari's makeup-less features. Everything seemed softer, nicer, and the small marks which adorned his skin only drew him in further.

He fell asleep on the couch, unaware of the lipstick mark on his cheek.

#Bakukamiweek2018 #bakukami #Makeup #Mentions of drugs #Mentions of alcohol #Mentions of sex #Bakugo Katsuki #Katsuki Bakugo #Kaminari Denki #Denki Kaminari #Ashido Mina #Mina Ashido #Kirishima Eijirou #Eijirou Kirishima #Sero Hanta #Hanta Sero #Fluff #Denki is an idiot #Swearing

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ink-nguyen · 6 years

Text

Writing Ask Games

Tagged by @papersky-pencilstars thank you!

I’m using my current WIP Stars in the Dark

1. Describe the plot in one sentence.

Hemlock is hired to kill a prince but doesn’t anticipate the bodyguard being competent, while Fox walks a fine line between creatively interpreting his orders and outright treason - emotions ensue.

2. Pick one sight, smell, sound, feel, and taste to describe the aesthetic of your novel.

Brilliant jewel tones painting scalloped arches in sandstone and marble

“cinnamon and anise and paprika and tomatoes mellowing in rich coconut milk”

a folk song and lullaby being sung in chorus as the hymn of a mischievous goddess-fox

the shock and pain of falling onto a very hard surface

chilled pomegranate and desert pear mead on the first day of spring

3. Which 3+ songs would make up a playlist for the novel?

Yellow Flicker Beat - Lorde

Collide - James Bay

Did You Hear the Rain? - George Ezra

4. What’s the time period and location in which the novel takes place.

:))) Time period is sort of nebulous? It’s sort of medieval, and but things like pin-and-tumbler locks exist. As for the location, it’s split between Mahjuren and Kinan. Mahjuren is heavily influenced by Mughal India, Persia, and North Africa, but the climate is more temperate with deciduous oak forests and marshlands, but also monsoons don’t @ me I know it doesn’t make sense it’s fantasy okay? Kinan is an archipelagic kingdom, very much tropical, with a strong Southeast Asian flavor, but with blue everything everywhere.

5. Is this a standalone or a part in a series?

It’s a standalone! And also technically like... the prequel for a different solo novel set in the same universe but far into the future when all the sovereign states in SitD have either fallen or morphed into something new.

6. Are there any former titles you’ve considered but discarded?

Fox and Flower. It’s technically not actually a title, just a placeholder, but it has a nice ring to it. I would have used it if not for the fact that I have an aversion to using character names in fantasy titles.

7. What’s the first line of your novel?

‘Hemlock flattened himself into the alcove, chest heaving as he caught his breath.’

8. What’s a dialogue you’re particularly proud of?

Oh man, there’s so many snippets ugh.

There’s this bit:

"I don't know, you could at least pretend to care."

Something like anger flickered in his eyes, but it didn't reach the rest of his face. "All I ever do is care," Fox said, his voice almost flippantly cool. "To do otherwise would be treason, and I'm not eager to die."

"You're unbelievable," Lilac scoffed.

"Would you like it better if I said that very little matters more to me than his well-being?" Fox offered, his tone mocking. "That I've come to see him as my younger brother and I would gladly betray his father if it meant keeping him safe? Is that satisfactory?"

"Why are you like this?"

Or:

"You're such a bastard."

"Indeed I am," Fox said, still smiling. He brushed his fingertips against Hemlock's arm as he stood up from the pallet. "I'll be going now."

"Goodnight, traitor."

"Sleep well, murderer."

Or or this one, which I used as my back-cover quote:

Lilac let her shoulders drop and turned back around to face him. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. I know what a gilded cage it is to serve the crown," Fox said. "I don't believe in caging pretty birds to make them sing on command."

"And what about dangerous animals?"

Fox shrugged. "There is nothing more pathetic than a tiger that has been beaten into submission."

Lilac raised a skeptical brow. "And is that what you are?"

Fox met her gaze with a shake of his head. "I'm just a dog on a leash," he said. "I do as I'm ordered."

9. Which line from the novel most represents it as a whole?

"That doesn't make it taste any less bitter," Fox said, his voice low and cold, "when you offer me the honor of being your second, as if it wasn't always my fucking birthright to stand as your equal."

10. Who are your character faceclaims?

SO here’s the thing: I’ve tried. I’ve TRIEEED to find good photo references for my characters.... but they’re all PoC and darker skinned except Fox, who is still not... pale, per se. Which is a big fucking issue because it’s impossible to find decent photos of a young South Asian man with no beard, or a young Southeast Asian man who doesn’t just look like a kpop idol (which is NOT to say that they all look the same, because they don’t, it’s just that they have a uniformly p a l e aesthetic; also he’s not Korean). HOWEVER, I found one really good reference for Lilac:

Lilac is a few shades darker with curly hair, and her eyes are brown, not green, but otherwise she looks very much like this.

11. Sort your characters into Harry Potter houses!

Hemlock - Hufflepuff

Fox - Slytherin

Remin - Ravenclaw

Lilac - Slytherin

Tayali - Slytherin

Vermil - Gryffindor

Bonus side characters:

Xuan - Hufflepuff

Liem - Slytherin

Fern - Gryffindor

Clem - Hufflepuff

12. Which character’s name do you like the most?

Fox and Xuan!

13. Describe each character’s daily outfit.

Hemlock - black hooded vest over a dark shirt, plain-woven linen pants tucked into sturdy leather boots, knives tucked eveywhere. so many knives.

Fox - finely made dark cotton shirts with embroidery on the collar and cuffs under a sturdier vest with matching embroidery on the chest panels, black twill pants, black leather bracers and low-necked boots.

Remin - a brocade shalwar kameez with goldwork and pearl buttons, silk pants and a coordinating sash around his waist, kidskin shoes.

Lilac - a cotton choli with intricate embroidery and a matching lehenga, slippers with beadwork and tiny mirrors, a few bangles and sometimes earrings but no necklaces when she’s working.

Tayali - prior to her defection, the same as Fox. afterwards, loose-fitting shirts fashioned out of colorful batiks and ikats - or adire if she can find it, long pants gathered below the knee, the same low-necked boots from her days as a Black Knife, a delicate-looking necklace with an iridescent steel spider pendant.

Vermil - similar to Remin, but even more ornately embroidered, a dress saber slid into a knotted sash, knee-high boots.

Xuan - an airy silk áo dài in various shades of blue and painted or embroidered with waves or flowers or birds, a matching khăng đóng, a silver bib necklace, heeled silk shoes with silver bird wings embroidered on the toes.

14. Do any characters have distinctive birthmarks/scars?

Fox has an x-shaped scar on his cheek, Hemlock has a thin slash on his cheek, and both have multiple scars on the rest of their bodies. Lilac has a birthmark on her upper thigh. Tayali has scars similar to Fox’s but none visible while clothed.

15. Which character most fits a character trope?

Vermil is pretty “evil king” but I’m trying to give his character some more depth than that.

16. Which character is the best writer? Worst?

Remin is both a good and straight up awful writer. He’s great at academic writing and diplomatic missives, so unfathomably bad at love letters. Other than him, I would say Lilac or Xuan are the best writers, and Hemlock is probably the worst.

17. Which character is the best liar? Worst?

Fox is the best liar, Remin is the worst.

18. Which character swears the most? Least?

Hemlock swears most! He drops f-bombs left and right (altho not in the text bc I’m trying to keep things YA-friendly). Remin swears least because of his ingrained manners.

19. Which character has the best handwriting? Worst?

Remin has very proper penmanship with perfect curlicues and all that jazz. Fox has really pretty handwriting that’s flowy and sort of spidery but still easy to read. Hemlock’s handwriting is the worst comparatively, but it’s not actually bad. It’s just very plain and straightforward.

20. Which character is most like you? Least like you?

Personality-wise I’m most like Hemlock, but culturally I’m v much Fox. Diaspora, homesick for my mother country, bilingual etc.

21. Which character would you most like to be?

I think I’d like to be one of the non-field Spiders. I would just craft things for them to use or help forge documents.

I tag @issun-boshi @longsightmyth and @spaceshipkat (it’s laini). Feel free to join in even if I haven’t tagged you, and tag me so I can see your answers!

#tag game #about me #stars in the dark #papersky-pencilstars

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channimagine · 6 years

Text

Chanyeol x Reader

Hi guys! Here’s part 2 of my Chanyeol x Youtuber!au I made few weeks ago. Last time, Chanyeol was doing his girlfriend’s makeup, so what about doing the opposite? Hope you’ll like it :3

Btw, here’s part 1 ! Enjoy~

_______________________________________________________________________

You were checking your camera, cleared your throat and looked at your boyfriend.

“Are you ready, honey?” you asked, with a smile.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea…?”

“Come on babe, you’ve already said yes…”

“I know I’m sorry. I’m a little stressed…”

You took his face on your hands and kissed the tip of his nose, smiling.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about anything, I’ll do my best~” Your boyfriend smiled and kissed your nose back.

“Oh well, I’m not scared of that I know you’ll do good but you know… Doing makeup on a guy… People might think it’s weird…”

“Chanyeol…”

“I mean, I don’t want anyone to attack you on social medias…”

“You know I don’t care about them, and you shouldn’t too! We’re having fun and won’t let anyone say anything bad about this, okay? So, let’s enjoy our little moment okay~”

“Hmm alright…” he smiled.

“And don’t worry, you’ll look good!”

“Well I’m already a beauty, you know.”

“Please stop. Okay, ready…” you turned the camera on. “Hi guys, welcome back to my channel! Today, because you guys were like 1556854 to ask another video with my boyfriend Chanyeol… here he is.”

Chanyeol raised his hand with a shy smile and looked at the camera and then you.

“Yup. It’s me, ya boy…”

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

“Alright!! I don’t know if you guys remember, but last time Chanyeol was there, he did my makeup for the first time in his life. So, this time, we decided I’ll do his makeup, for the first time! How do you feel about this, honey?”

“Well… Stressed. Does it hurt?”

“What?”

“All those… pencils and brushes on your face…” Chaneyol was speaking slowly, and touching his skin, looking concerned. You laughed and caressed his cheek.

“Aw don’t worry honey I’m not gonna hurt you…”

“I have faith in you, so please don’t destroy me, okay?”

You both laughed a little.

“Okay I’ll do my best! Are you ready to look like a king?”

“Yup!”

“Okay so…” you were searching for some things all around the table, in front of you. “I’m going for a soft look okay?”

“Alright…”

“Good. Put that on your skin, I have to find my blinder, I think I’ve lost it…” you gave a little tube to Chanyeol. He considered it for a moment and opened it carefully.

“What is this…?”

“A primer, honey.”

“A primer? For what?” Chanyeol squeezed the tube a little bit and put some primer on his finger. “Where should I put it?”

“On your face Channie. It prepares your skin and stuff like that- Ah I’ve found my blinder!”

Chanyeol was shyly applying primer on his cheek, confused. You giggled a little and put some more on his forehead, nose and eyes.

“Okay that’s better~ Let’s start with the eyes… I’m going to use brownish, reddish colors for this look. All the products are listed on the description down bellow, by the way!”

“It’s going to be so painful…”

“No, I’m gentle, don’t worry!” you kissed his cheek and gave him a sweet smile. “All right, first, I’m going to start with a light base, so the color will pop-up when I’ll apply it… Close your eyes.”

Chanyeol closed his eyes and you started applying the light base on his eyelid, trying to be as gentle as possible.

“Am I hurting you?” you asked.

“Hmm no. I have to say it’s a little uncomfortable, but that’s fine.”

“Cool~ Now, I’m going to apply this brownish color. Pretty right? And then this reddish.”

You showed it to your boyfriend and then to the camera. He smiled, looking at the pretty colors and closed his eyes again.

“How did you lean all of this…?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“To to apply makeup and stuff.”

“I guess I learned all by myself. I learned thanks to tutorials on the internet!”

“Hmm I see. It’s impressive…”

You smiled, trying to stay focused on what you were doing.

“Thanks, Channie you’re cute. But you know, it’s the same thing for you: you learned to play the guitar all by yourself.”

“Yeah it’s true.”

“All right! I’m done here! Have a look.” You gave him a little mirror, smiling. “Tell me what you think.”

Chanyeol look at himself in the mirror with a smile, feeling great about his look.

“Wow. I… I look good.”

“Of course, you do, idiot. Alright, let me but some glitters, now. This has to GLOW.”

“Hey, I don’t want to be like a disco ball, Y/N.”

“You won’t, don’t worry. I’m a professional~”

“Oh well.”

You put some glitters on his eyes, proudly looked at your master piece and then started working on the foundation.

“Okay let’s take this shade…”

“Isn’t it a little too light for me?”

“No I think it will be perfect with contouring.”

“… okay??”

Chanyeol watched you carefully putting some foundation on a beauty blinder and applying it on his face, by softly patting his skin.

“Am I hurting you, honey?”

“Not at all. It’s quite relaxing, to be honest.”

“Okay good! It’s nearly finished. I just have to lighten some zones or make others darker… and we’ll be good!”

“Waw it’s really hard and long…”

“It’s because I want you to look like a real king!”

“You’re cute Y/N.”

You smiled and kissed the top of his nose.

“Alright. Next step: contouring.”

“…”

“It’s okay, it’s basically the same thing but with other colors.”

“Oh nice.”

“You really like that blinder, right?”

“It feels soft on the face!!”

“Yeah I guess…”

You took your brushes with a little smile on your face and started contouring his face. Your boyfriend took a look at the mirror next him, and raised an eyebrow.

“…why do I look like I have some paint on my face, right now?”

“It’s because makeup is an art and you’re my canvas~” you winked.

“…did you just flirt with me?”

“It was too much, right?”

“That was pretty funny.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be funny!!”

Chanyeol laughed and kissed your hand as an apology.

“Alright you giant, let me finish this.”

“Yes please~”

You quickly finished what you had to do to make a beautiful skin for your boyfriend and started working on the eyebrows.

“Okay don’t move. … I SAID DON’T MOVE.”

“I’m sorry, it tickles!!”

“How??”

“How can I know?”

“…”

“You have pretty eyebrows, to be honest.”

“Thank you princess.”

“You’re welcome, honey.”

You finished and took your eye-shadow pallet once again. Chanyeol looked at you with concerned eyes.

“Again? You said you were done with the eyes!”

“No, I need to work on your under-eyes and… eye liner.”

“…No please.”

“I’m sorry but you knew it was going to happen sooner or later.”

“Can’t you skip this step?”

“Are you kidding me this is the most important thing! Alright, take a deep breath don’t move a single finger, okay?”

“I don’t want to die.”

“You’ll die if you move, Chanyeol so stay focused!”

Chanyeol did as you said and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. You took your liner pencil and started drawing a thin line on his eyelid. When you were too close to his lashes, your boyfriend made a little sound, to make you understand how uncomfortable he was.

“I’m almost finished, don’t worry.”

“Hmm…”

“Okay! I’m done!”

“Finally!”

“Now, let’s do the other one.”

“NO.”

After a moment of negotiation, you were finally able to do the other eye. You was faster with this one than the other, because Chanyeol was holding his breath a little too much, and you were scared he might die.

“Ta-dah!”

“Oh my god finally.”

“You look beautiful, honey.”

“Thanks, but please, don’t touch my eye with that pencil of the devil ever again.”

“Alright~ Look at your gorgeous self in the mirror now! …and please don’t cry, you’re going to ruin my master piece.”

“You’re so heartless…”

He took the mirror, pouting and then saw his reflect in it. He blinked and looked closer.

“Wow. I’m probably going to fall in love with myself, I look so damn cute.”

“Well, you’re welcome??”

“You’ve done a pretty good job, here! Thanks baby!”

“Hmm…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I feel like something is missing.”

“Really?”

“…do you want to get cuter?”

“…are you really asking??”

“Okay don’t move!!”

You left the room, leaving Chanyeol alone in front of the camera, admiring himself.

“Not gonna lie, I look pretty gorgeous.” He looked at the camera, and moved his eyebrows, making a flirty smirk. “Hello ladies and gentlemen, here’s your handsome boi Park Chanyeol, please don’t fall in love with me…”

“What are you saying, Chanyeol…”

“Nothing babe~”

“Okay, I got you some fake eyelashes and some brushes to make fake freckles! What do you think?”

“Is it going to make me look cuter?”

“Definitely.”

“What are you waiting for, then?”

You took the fake eyelashes and put some special glue on it. Chanyeol looked at you, confused.

“…what the fuck is that?”

“Glue.”

“…are you really going to put that on my eyes?” he asking, pointing at the glue with his finger.

“Yup. It’s safe don’t worry!”

“It doesn’t look safe at all!”

“Stop complaining and come here, you crybaby. I’m doing this everyday.”

You put the two eyelashes on and looked at him, with a smile.

“… You look amazing.”

“It’s heavy…”

“Yeah but you look cuter!”

“Right…”

“Now, the freckles.”

“Please tell me this is not going to be painful.”

“Nah you’re gonna love it, I’m using my beauty blender.”

“YES.”

You smiled and took several brown pencils and made little dots on his upper-cheeks and his nose. Then you took your blinder and toned down the little dots.

“Waw this looks super cute.” You said.

“I AM super cute.”

“Please don’t speak, I need concentration.”

“Hehe~”

“And…here we are~ You’re now the cut- WAIT no you’re not.”

“Why?”

“I forgot about the lips, wait.”

“Oh right.”

You took your favorite liquid lipstick and applied it on your boyfriend’s lips, and then admired your masterpiece, finally completed.

“All right! Now you’re officially the cutest boy in the entire galaxy~”

“Please give me the mirror!!” he took it and smiled to himself. “Wah you’re right I look pretty cute~ Thank you Y/N you did an amazing job~”

“Hehe you’re welcome!” you smiled to you boyfriend, and he came closer to the camera.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen, it’s me again, you’re boi. Now my transformation is finally completed, and I’m the prettiest boi alive… Once again, if you fall in love with me, I’m not responsible…~”

“Are you done, yet?”

You boyfriend laughed a little, as a reply. After a moment, you finally said goodbye to the camera and tuned it off.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Please, can you teach me how to do those freckles? And the liner is pretty cool too… And how do you apply foundation properly??”

You proudly smiled at him and took his face in your hands. You gave him a soft kiss on the forehead and smiled.

“I will!”

“Thank you, Y/N, you’re the best!”

_______________________________________________________________________

It’s finally done!! I’m not gonna lie, this made me want to do my boyfriend’s makeup but UH he’ll probably cry at every step.

Hope you guys liked anyway (tell me if you did :3) it and if you have suggestions, please tell me, my ask box is fully open! :3

#chanyeol imagine #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol reaction #chanyeol #park chanyeol #exo chanyeol #exo #exo imagine #exo scenarios #exo reaction #exo k #chanyeol x reader

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deadbydaylight-blood-moon · 4 years

Text

Chapter [redacted]: A Teenage Horror

The outsider profile

“I've been hearing things from other survivors from the fog, they talk about a creature that lurks in the darkness. Once a man now a monster, and a monster that seems to enjoy the pain it creates. They say the only thing that lurks in your mind after meeting this thing is it’s eyes, how empty and soulless they are. Until, however, you're the last one to be sacrificed and for a moment a tiny ting of a sick and twisted version of happiness forms in those empty sockets. Yet that’s not really what lingers after I meet this beast. No, no it was the sickly burns that eats at your flesh that truly stick with you.” ~ benedict baker

Basic info:

Overview:

The outsider is a malicious killer, able to force survivors into disagreeable situations by spitting up balls of concentrated acid that inflict burns onto the survivor. Or better known as his power acid treatment. Survivors find themselves inflicted with the burn effect, slow production and can even halt work on generators, along with other hinders. His personal perks: rancid odor, monstrous gambit, and monophobia allows the outsider to play with his victims with disadvantages while giving chase. making it hard for them to work on generators or totems.

Name: Carlos Valdez

Alas: the Outsider

Age when taken: 18

Year when taken: 1982

Nationality: American

Race: Latino/ Mesoamerican

Power: acid treatment

Description:

Height: 6’12”

Weight: 172 lbs.

Hair color: black

Hair style: mostly bald but a few patches coming out.

Scars: his entire lower jaw is completely missing skin, and a burnt scar on his chest.

Tattoos: none

Piercings: none

Physical description:

The outsider is grayish green, with his bottom jaw completely removed of skin, leaving nothing but hardened muscle and exposed bone. From the neck down to the bottom of his pectoral muscle is covered with burn scars. Which can be explained by the dripping acid that is oozing out of his mouth, he has sharp yellowish white teeth. Along with neon green irises. He has claws on both hand and feet, and his body is a combination of both emaciated as well as muscular. Normal he walks hunched over with his knuckles pointed down.

Clothing description:

The outsider wears a hole filled navy blue hoodie that has the right side missing, burnt away. He also wears hole filled jogging sweatpants, both items of clothing are covered in layers of dirt and blood. It also seems to not wear any shoes.

Back story:

Carlos Valdez was born in a small conservative town in south Florida, already known around the town for being born from a single mother. Father ran away after the second trimester, Carlos was looked down upon the moment he came into the world. However, Carlo's mother and grandmother tried their best in keeping that negativity away. Yet while they tried to stop everything from the outside from getting in, they didn’t realize there was a darker force already at play coming from inside Carlos. There would be times that either his grandmother or mother have found him standing in front of the tv with nothing but static playing through. Other times they would lose him for hours before finding him in the cellar of the apartment building they were living in. coated in blood and dirt, holding onto an old cleaver that once was owned by his grandfather who used to own a butcher shop.

Worried about what the other adults would think, Carlos' mother would try her best to make sure none of these things got out to the community. But there would be times where someone would catch the young child talking to the whispers in his ear, and there will be times where his mother would find wet, moldy leashes under her child’s bed right after finding out yet another dog was taken. Carlos was also very good at lying, a giant grin there, and a sad face here and the child knew he was going to get away with it. But the things he did weren't just for him, no, ever since the tv. The boy did whatever the voice said.

Yet, all of his little tricks finally caught up to him growing up, especially after an accident with another child and a set of concrete stairs. As the years went on the once neighborhood who was terrorized by him now ostracized him, pushing him out to the brinks of society, but by doing this, they had doomed themselves.

On the night of the local highschool’s prom, Carlos in a drunken stupor, collected bottles of acid that was used in his mother’s workplace, a factory nearby, and decided to play a “prank” on the bullies who tormented him. Fueled on cheap whiskey and the dark voice talking to him in his ear. He snuck into the old building, getting rid of the pesky janitor that tried to stop him, and used the sprinkler system into his own little plaything. When he lit the match that inevitably caused the death of everyone in the gym that night, people who barely made it out alive said they could hear laughing through the screams of teens being melted alive. But when the police arrived at the site, the only thing found of dear Carlos was his blood covered shoes.

Game mechanics:

Realm: Leon high

Movement Speed: 115%

Terror radius: 32 meters

Weapon: Generational Clever

Power name: Acid treatment

Power description:

“ The entity upon being called on that night, gave the outsider the ability to continue tormenting the survivors in his own unique fashion.”

The outsider can now create balls of pure acid that can be spit out by pressing the power button in an arc at a fast pace before landing on or around the survivor.

The outsiders start with 4 balls of acid treatment.

Reload time: 6/5/4 seconds for 1 ball of acid treatment

Acid treatment does have splash damage

Acid treatment can break pallets but can not break generators

Survivors inflicted with the burn status will have one stack on hit. The burn status will have a 45/35/20/15 seconds timer before gaining another stack.

On a direct hit survivors get 2 stacks.

When a survivor gets 3 stacks of the burn status they go into the injured state and have a 15/20/25 percent regression on good skill checks and 0 bonus percent on great skill checks.

When a survivor gets 6 stacks of the burn status they will go into the dying state.

Survivors who have the burn status have a 5/10/15 percent speed penalty on healing.

Perk 1:Rancid odor

“You're rotten from the inside and out, and will you use this for your own advantage.”

Your terror radius is increased by 10,18,28 meters. All survivors in your terror radius gain oblivious status until leaving the terror radius in which the survivor gets the blindness effect for 10/15/25 seconds.

“God what’s that smell? I think I’m going to be sick!” - unknown survivor

Perk 2: Monstrous gambit

“ a deep bond created by years of loneliness has given you the power to deal with the survivors”

Whenever a survivor in your terror radius either: jumps a vault, slams a pallet, or gets off a generator 5/4/3 times. The entity will close off or break either a generator, pallet, vault 3/4/5 times before refreshing.

“ you think this is some kind of game!?… well if it is then it’s his house we’re playing in…” - unknown survivor

Perk 3:Monophobia

“ You’ve been alone all your life, now it's their turn to feel the pain…”

When you hook a survivor you gain a token, the killer can achieve up to 5 tokens, whenever the killer has all five tokens they gain a speed boost of 5/15/25 percent while being able to see all survivors whose aura will glow white/yellow if they are either injured/downed. However, you lost a token when getting hit by pallet or loses a chase. The survivors will also be exhausted for 5/10/15 seconds each time monophobia is activated.

“ it’s okay nieto, you never be alone when you have your family” - Carlo’s Abela.

Addons:

Brown

Muddied notebook -

A notebook now covered with a muddy footprint

Slightly increases the range of acid treatment

Hole filled gloves-

A pair of yellow plastic gloves now tattered with holes.

Slightly increase the reload time of acid treatment.

Rat tails in a jar-

A jar filled with the chopped off tails of rats that lived in Carlo's basement.

Slightly increases the potency of acid treatment.

Disturbing drawings-

Drawings of a particular unhinged child.

Gives one extra ball of acid treatment, gives acid treatment the blind effect.

Yellow

Broken headphones-

A pair of broken headphone after a fight

Moderately increases the range of acid treatment.

Hole filled bottles-

Bottles once filled with basic acids now filled with holes from a stronger acid.

Moderately increase the reload time of acid treatment

Wet dog leash-

The leash from a neighbor’s dog that went missing.

Moderately increasing the potency of acid treatment, slows down casting speed.

Mother’s day card-

A mother’s day card, it vibrates with energy.

Gives one extra ball of acid treatment, gives acid treatment the oblivious effect.

Green

Broken skateboard wheel-

The skateboard wheel that Carlo’s stole from a shop.

Moderately increases the range of acid treatment

Bloodied wrench

The wrench that took the janitors life away-

Moderately increases the reload time of acid treatment, decreases survivor’s speed if hit directly with acid treatment.

Crumpled up newsletter-

A neon pink newsletter that advertises that fatal event.

Moderately increases the potency of acid treatment.

Broken antenna -

A broken antenna from a tv set that was Carlo’s only friend

Gives acid treatment the hindered effect, allows the outsider to fire off 2 balls of acid treatment at the same time.

Purple:

Crumpled up love letter-

A foolish attempt to harness any kind of emotion-

Considerably increasing the range of acid treatment, increases the time survivors need to heal before getting out of the burn status. “ dear, F -

I know it seems odd coming from me ---- but I --- hope you feel the same-- love, Carlos”

Match box -

The weapon that allows Carlos his revenge.

Considerably decreases the reload time on acid treatment, allows the outsider to see where the ball of acid will land.

Brain matter in a jar-

A jar that had the remains of an accident a long, long time ago.

Considerably increasing the potency of acid treatment, allows acid treatment upon hitting the ground burst into multiple small balls before splashing down.

Bloodied sneakers-

The sneakers found at the crime scene.

Gives 2 extra balls of acid treatment, increases the speed of the outsider whenever a survivor has the burn status. However, gives the outsider a 3 second long stun upon using acid treatment.

Pink:

Iridescent crown -

A melted crown molded from The Fog itself, unlike the others, it’s cold to the touch void of any energy.

Allows the outsider to see all survivors after hitting a survivor with acid treatment for 8 seconds, if a person is put into the dying state due to acid treatment and not a basic attack all survivors in a 25 meter radius will have the exposed effect.

Abuela’s necklace-

A necklace with a giant sapphire embedded in it, looking at it too long can make a survivor feel nervous.

Allows acid treatment to bounce of walls and ceilings, gives the outsider a small burst of speed after a successful hit.

#dead by daylight #dbd #dbd oc #dbd oc killer #oc bio #rp character #Carlos Valdez #the outsider #A teenage Horror

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elegant-etienne · 7 years

Text

Fashion, pastel goth, and glams in Eorzea

When I returned to Balmung about a year and a half ago, I fantasia’d Etienne with a very specific sort of soft grunge / pastel goth look in mind. While the definition of pastel goth (much like ‘goth’ in general) is vague and not very agreed-upon. In the case of Etienne’s design philosophy, it is, at its core, an embracing of elegant, feminine lines and shapes with a heavier Victorian/gothic fashion sense, while embracing a spring and summer color pallet. I classify Etienne as a pastel goth just as much because of their attitude as much as their look. I do not consider pastel goth to be ‘goth lite’, as some might categorize it. Also, I’m more of the philosophy of creating an aesthetic rather than following one, if that makes sense. Since I can’t define what pieces turn up in the game and not everything I’d like Etienne to wear is available to them, it’ll never be exactly what I’d want or imagine. But I find that to be part of the fun and the challenge.

I was very flattered recently to receive a message asking for tips on what items dye well for a pastel goth aesthetic. I’d say the Heavensward gear is best for goth stuff in general, there are a lot of gems in the leveling gear, and people are moving away from that for the time being which will give you a more standout, if possibly quaint, look. I wouldn’t say there’s a particular color or dye that works better. I bought some of the pastel pink dye for my wedding and have used it on a few other items and found it quite satisfying, but you can get a good look out of everything if you follow through with your colors and it happens to be shades that work on your character. Even the ice blue and rose pink dyes you get in the early game could be put to good use in the right context.

Siince I realized I had a ton of things I wanted to say on the subject of glams, pastel goth and fashion, as well as wanting to use visual aids. Here’s some basic ideas and philosophies that help me dress Etienne in all their pastel goth glory. All of these things are purely my opinion, every single one of them, so feel free to disagree. Preferably far away from me. I’m only an amateur when it comes to fashion. I like it a lot but I have not taken a single class or cried over a dress form or anything like that. If I get something wrong, I hope you can at least get my gist.

1. The Character Creator, Hair, Makeup, And Other Considerations

Everyone’s got that POTD haircut these days, right? But I love it!

When it comes to character customization your mileage can vary by races. I won’t begin to tell you what looks good. Aside from retainers, I’ve heardly touched any of the character creators aside from mi’qote and elezen. I’m a little obsessive about trying to make sure that my characters don’t look like everyone else’s, and that’s something that’s only brought about by long-term experience in the game. Remember that shades look different between haircuts, and if you think a skin tone or hair color looks good in the character creator, you probably want it a shade or two darker. The swatches are liars and things IG tend to look more washed out than in the CC. This shade of lavender looks like pink in the swatch, lavender looks gray or silver, etc. You can waste a lot of time, and potentially gil or fantasia on experimenting with this, but I’d say 98% of the time I’ve gone back to redo a character’s look it was mostly rectified by darkening up my color choices. So you may want to simply pick what you like instinctively, and then go a shade or two darker. I happen to like to highlight with a lighter shade of the hair’s original color to give some illusion of depth and texture, but this doesn’t work with every hairdo. Paler eyes give an illusion of life and depth to characters, but wash out very easily in screenshots or may give a lack of distinction. Lip color you can take a bit more risk on. Darker purples, reds, and even greens or blues depending on what you’re going for / your character’s skin color (the latter look great on gray and blue skin tones) look pretty awesome, and again, better to err on the darker side. A brown can be an excellent choice for a ‘neutral’ lip color that still provides a made-up, polished look.

Bright colors look best on warmer and/or darker skin tones, so if that’s part of your character, you’re in luck.

One of the best pieces of advice on creating a customizable character to RP was to simply make it and walk away, and return to it the next day. This requires a lot of patience, but I think the results speak for themselves. You may otherwise wind up playing your character and finding you dislike your choices - or you made some very basic mistake.

2. Building A Silhouette

Shh... I know this isn’t pastel.

Shape of an outfit is, in my opinion, just as important as the colors you choose. This, like many other aspects, has many factors out of your control as we cannot have items custom made and builds have little variation. It’s a video game, and frankly it’s not like most of us are getting our IRL clothes bespoke either. Just as much as you want to think about what colors you should be wearing (and if you’re a RPer like me, why your character might wear it) but if the lines look good. I tend to build an outfit around one specific, notable piece of gear. Usually it’s a coat or something like that, but it may also be a hat or boots. I take a look at the shape of the item and consider the overall silhouette of the outfit. The Thavnarian bolero is lop-sided and worn with pants beneath, as the bloodhempen casting robe. The ‘real’ bottoms for these sets are pants. I’m not fond of the way that breaks up the great line at the waist of these items and makes things look a bit lumpy and uneven. I thought a skirt was a great way to rectify this, plus it adds an interesting motion when you’re moving.

Having a lot of really ornate pieces all together at once, as well as potentially your weapons, can create a busy shape which makes an outfit seem muddled. Your admirers won’t know what to focus on. An outfit should, much like the main character of a Shonen Jump series, have a design that is simple, recognizable, distinct and attractive in silhouette.

3. Colors and Dyeing

If there’s one thing I come to again and again, it’s that you shouldn’t wear all one color.

This warddrobe color guide infographic literally changed my outlook on fashion forever, and thus, my entire glam life, and I keep the rules at the bottom for ‘foolproof combinations’ in mind at all times.

I tend to avoid traditional neutrals, if I must I’ll go with the various shades of gray that are somewhat underutilized IG. Cream yellow and bone white are ones I’ve used a bit on one of my mi’qo alts to great effect, but they are more yellow and ecru than just plain white.

I don’t have a cap that shows it, but I used to have a glam that was mostly grays with salmon pink gloves and shoes that dyed so that just the socks were that color. Using pops of color this way are an opportunity to cheat and use colors that might not look great in large amounts, or are unflattering on your character for the most part.

Remember that the more colors you have, the more bright pops, the more risk you run of looking busy, or that you simply threw together colors you liked without further consideration. That being said, I tend to enjoy using color families. Most of the light colors have darker counterparts.

When you dye an outfit a light color, many of the details get changed slightly to their darker shades. You can then pull out those colors for other pieces of your outfit and match it up. I was delighted to find out, when I got this hat in a drop, that it bore similar colors to the coat I’d already dyed colibri pink. Just because something isn’t dyeable doesn’t mean it’s going to clash with everything you own. If you like a piece, hold onto it. You never know. This is less of a problem in SB, but... just don’t ask to see poor Neondemon, my fashion retainer. Even his beefy Roe arms can’t hold all of my collection.

Plum purple wound up dying half of the boots that actual bright purple, and half of them a deep purple that coordinated with the trim and the other darker elements of the coat. In any case - dark hat, dark gloves, light shoes with a darker trim, and a very bright coat.

I also think it’s important that your earrings, etc., match the other materials you’re wearing, and that the shape compliments the outfit as well. Don’t let your earrings work against an outfit.

Here we have the combination of light coat, light hat, dark gloves, dark pants and shoes. I loved the line of the Ala Mhigan jacket and its art noveau little hat, so I decided to keep it. Even though this is a set of tomestone gear that basically everyone has, I’ve received a lot of compliments for the choices I made in dyeing this pairing it with the overall look of my character. In spite of it being an ‘ordinary’ outfit with zero alterations, I absolutely loved wearing this and how Etienne looked in these color choices. I don’t think you have to break new ground with every outfit or find the most unique, rare pieces. It may not be realistic to spend your time on that. When you dye things in unusual colors, it brings out qualities others might not have noticed or appreciated about that item. The details on the Ala Mhigan casting set are so much more noticeable in this light color, and it looks very pleasant with the snowy white trim. In spite of doing very little to ‘develop’ this glam aside from deciding on the colors, it’s one of my favorites so far.

Dark jacket, dark pants, light gloves, light shoes + paissa. #aesthetic

4. Take Risks, Get Feedback, Make Friends, And Have Fun

Or just marry someone really cute and stand next to him.

I’ve met so many awesome people because they complimented my look or my glam and I took a few minutes to chat with them about it. Complimenting others has gained me a lot of insight into different ideas, where gear comes from, how it dyes and how to pair it up with things. Allow yourself to be a work-in-progress. The one person you truly have to answer to when it comes to glams is yourself, so there’s no reason to worry to much about getting good.

I dye all my leveling gear.

I just feel like I’m having more fun when I’m pretty.

#ooc #fashion #balmung #reaction gifs

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softdarkiplierimaginesarchives · 7 years

Text

This is what I wanted to post yesterday! A short drabble where Dark does your makeup!

(Male S/O, Gendered language (Male), S/O Is slightly uncomfortable but wants it done (Slight mentions of gender roles “It's not a ““guy's thing”” but-”) Not a “drag”/”crossdresser” story!)

You didn't know when the idea came into your head but when it did you decided to roll with it. You've seen plenty of guys wear makeup and they usually looked amazing. Then again, they knew what they were doing or, like Dark, had a more “subtle look”. But as you pulled the mascara brush away from your face, left eye watering from stabbing yourself for the third time in a row, you realize you might need some help. Sighing you grab the hand towel and wet it under the tap and begin to rub your face clean.

You lift your head as you hear the sound of a door open. Dark must be home. That or you had very polite burglars, and with the way your evening was going, you wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter. After a moment of silence you hear the sound of faint ringing getting closer and Dark looks in at you from the open bathroom door.

“Evening love, how has your day been?”

“Uuuuggghhh.” You reply as you keep your face buried in the hand towel.

“I see.” Dark says silently looking over the scene.

“Do you want to talk about it, or would you like some space?” Dark askes moving to have his full frame in the doorway.

“Ah, I just, I was stupid. I tried to do my makeup, didn't get too far.” You say gesturing to the spread of makeup laying on the counter around the sink.

Dark looks at you as you set the towel down.

“I don't think what you did was stupid. You may be inexperienced, but wanting to learn something, and failing at it, does not deem you stupid, it's the exact opposite.” Dark said keeping your eyes locked with his.

You nervously lick your lips and look away. He wasn't meaning to be harsh and he wasn't it was just...

“Yeah, I know, I just, I dunno.” You say shrugging.

“I feel dumb for even trying.” You pause, there was more to it.

“I know this a bad thing to say, but makeup isn't exactly a thing most guys do.” You say nervously chewing on your lip.

“James Charles, Patrick Starr, Ben J. Pierce, Patricio Quintana.” Dark said.

“What?” You say blankly.

“There all male makeup artist, who do their own makeup.” Dark said.

“Dark-” You began.

“Angel Merino, Manny Mua, Zachary Edward.” Dark continued.

You fall silent and swallow the nervous lump in your throat.

“They… There all better than me.” You mumble softly unable to look up from the floor.

You feel Dark's icy cold hands press against your skin as he holds your face in his hands.

“Do you want me to help you?” He asked. His voice soft and warm.

You move your hand to rest over his.

“Kinda.” You look at him. His face was still firm but it wasn't in malice, it was simply how he was. His eyes held most of his kindness and now was no exception.

“Yeah.” You agree.

Dark smiles briefly, and a bit awkwardly but the emotion was there, and kisses your forehead.

“Why don't we go to the kitchen, you can sit down and the lighting is better. I'll gather up the makeup.” Dark said stepping back to let you through.

You nod and walk out of the bathroom, quickly pecking Dark on the cheek as you pass by causing him to flush slightly. This earned him another quick kiss.

No sooner had you pulled out the chair to sit down had Dark appeared.

“I'll have to warn you, I'm use to more… darker pallets.” Dark said setting the makeup on the table in a organized spread so it could be seen more easily.

“Everything you put on your face could be done by a sharpie, got it.” You say getting comfortable.

Dark huffed softly but he took no offense.

“What do you want done?” He asked looking over the selection.

“Ah, I uh, my eyes I guess, and maybe lipstick. Think I can do that myself, um, I got this really neat red one...” You feel the long spider like fingers of nervousness slowly drag their way across your stomach and up into your chest squeezing your heart. You bounce your leg and try to ignore it.

“Do you want me to wing your eyeliner, or no eyeliner, and do you want eye shadow? What about mascara?” Dark asked picking up lipstick tubes and checking them for the red one.

“Winged eyeliner usually looks pretty badass and I think my eye needs a day to rest from any mascara endeavors. I stabbed myself, like, fifty times.” You say as you cringe, your eye still stung a little.

But then again, Dark knew what he was doing. You remember one of the first times he had showed his handiwork and and you are very glad you're sitting down because your legs suddenly feel a bit weaker at the memory. He had looked stunning, and he was a quick learner, picking up the skill almost completely by the end of the week. Then again he practiced his way through three of the, what where they called, tubes? Of the stuff by the end of the week, he had that obsessive repetition with most things, but he didn't seem bothered. He said he had gotten cheap stuff to practice with and you took that advice with you when you picked up your own products. You had even sat down to watch a bunch of make guru videos beforehand. Until you got three minutes into the first one and got impatient and decided to try and teach yourself. Your left eye would never forgive you for this folly.

“I think it would be a good idea to go easy on the eye shadow, only have a little bit of it in the corners of your eyes.” Dark said finding the lipstick and setting it aside from the rest.

“Which corners?” You ask.

“The inner ones, the ones closest to the bridge of your nose.” Dark said looking over the eye shadow.

“What colour do you want?” He asked holding them out in his hands for you to see.

“Oh geez, uh, what will look good with my lipstick?” You ask fidgeting nervously.

“I'm not sure.” Dark admitted looking back down at the makeup to study it intently.

“I think red would go well with red, at least with how little I'm using. If it were going over all of your eyelid I might try to blend it to pink or orange. I could do that if you want more.” He added setting the other pallets aside and holding up one that had more vibrant colors in it.

You vaguely remember picking the pallet out as more of a joke, but now it was coming in handy.

“I'm not sure if crossing pallets is a good idea, but we can experiment if you're feeling up to it.” Dark said putting the pallet by the lipstick.

“I'm still a bit new to this.” He said with a hint of uncertainty.

“I'm a lot new to this, we can learn together.” You ask flashing Dark a quick smile.

“Right. Now, I believe this is the brush you use for eyeshadow.” Dark said holding up a brush with short stiff bristles.

“Eyeshadow goes on first?” You ask.

“It's a powder and the liner you have is liquid, so I'm assuming that's how it should work.” Dark said glancing over the the eyeliner like it would have an answer for him.

“I am truly sorry if I mess this up, I've been doing my makeup very…” Dark pauses and thinks for a moment. The way he bites his lips and looks at the ceiling still makes your heart skip a beat.

“-sloppily, for as long as I can remember. I've only recently began trying to do it ‘properly’.” Dark says as he brings the brush to your eye.

“Honey, please try to relax your face.” Dark said patiently as you flush.

“Sorry, I’m nervous.” You admit laughing softly

“I assure you I will do my best. Just keep your eyes closed and face relaxed till I say ‘open’.” Dark says softly as he begins to apply the eyeshadow.

The sensation was strange. Something being gently pressed and dragged across your eye is hard to get used to but it’s over quickly. You're not sure if you could stand to have your whole eyelid meticulously covered and you're glad you agreed to only do the corners. The eye liner takes a little bit longer as Dark is making sure it’s coming out evenly smoothly. Eventually he’s satisfied with his work.

“Okay, open.” Dark says.

You open your eyes after a bit of mental debate. You felt like if you weren't careful enough you’d ruin all of Dark’s work.

“Do you still want lipstick?” He asks holding out the tube to you.

“Do you have a mirror on you?” You ask realizing that maybe you should have stayed in the bathroom.

Dark’s fingers curl around the tube as he looks past you.

“No.” He confesses.

“Maybe I should apply it for you.” He offers.

“Uh, sure.” You agree.

Dark seemed surprised at your answer but quickly recovers and uncaps the tube and moves over to you begin applying it.

You quickly lean forward and kiss his nose causing him pull back with a start. You smile innocently in response.

“You're cute, darling.” His voice is caked in sarcasm but after a moment's hesitation he leans down and kisses your cheek.

Your half tempted to catch his face and give him a proper kiss but he's righted himself and straightening his suit within half a second.

“There, now we're even.” Dark says glaring at you with a sly smile.

“Nope.” You corrected “I got you into the bathroom when I left, remember.”

Dark stops and seems to consider this.

“Yes, that is true.” He says flitting his eyes over you.

“I suppose we'll have to wait till we're done here to be ‘even’.” Dark says giving his attention to the lipstick tube.

You find yourself grinning slyly.

“Fine by me, I bet red looks even better on you.” You say cheekily.

“We'll have to get it on you first to be able to make that comparison.” Dark says.

You hmm contently as Dark applies the lipstick. He's purposely looking anywhere but your eyes and you're purposefully trying to get him to look at you. In the end you technically win because he looked at you when he stepped back and told he was done.

“I'll go get a mirror.” Dark says rushing off before you have a chance to share your lipstick with him.

He returns quickly enough and tries to not fidget as you admire your appearance.

You're surprised you look so good. Not because you doubted Dark's skills but because the makeup looks good on you. You feel an odd rush of excitement, eager to explore and learn and embarrassment over how emotional you're becoming over this. You quickly set to work shooing the later feeling, this moment won't be ruined with nagging doubt.

You turn to Dark and smile who returns the fond loving look.

“Thanks.” You say standing and pulling him into a kiss which he happily accepts.

#Darkiplier #Drabble

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