#i completely forgot how to draw shoes while i was drawing this for some reason

[saturn-scribbles]

these are my designs for if there was a fighting game based on hivemind. which is a normal thing to draw

graydon and riley are the default playable characters. graydon's main weapon is a golf club, but maybe he has some other abilities too (reeling his opponents in with a fishing rod, transforming into a dragon). and riley uses a classic sword and shield

dignan uses knives and hellfire, grant fires projectiles out of his camera, quadeca has mysterious ghostly powers, and eden has a gun

[quimichi]

I Read Your Twisted Wonderland 'When You Wake Him Up With Nonsense" and Wanted To Ask If We Can Get One With The Staff(With Staff!Reader) and RSA(With RSA!Reader)? 🥺

Feel Free To Ignore😭

Love You❤️ And Have a Great Day!

"=⌕ YOU WAKE HIM UP WITH NONSENSE / pt. 2

⌕ pt. 1 here

warnings: bad writing, as usual, some characters may seem ooc, I apologize, pet names, some might dislike those

summary: You wake him up in the middle of the night with some nonsense

characters: RSA, NRC Staff and Rollo x GN!Reader

word count: 1,995

a/n: some are shorter or longer, it's just that I find some characters hard to write or I write them like I view them :) I HOPE YOU ALSO HAVE A VEEEERY NICE DAY TOO!

Chenya

The sound of your voice draws his attention to you. His breath hitches as he tries to stay asleep. He does not respond, instead he remains still as a statue. It is as if he wants to hear every word you have to say. And he wants to keep sleeping.

"Chenya, Chenya, Chenya, Chenya...Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker." Your voice cuts through the quiet. Your words pull him out of a dream.

He opens his eyes, and he looks straight at you and whines. "Why you gotta pull my full naaaaame...jus' wanna sleeeep..." "Yesterday I saw a motorcycle on the sun kissing the curtains in a cow." He blinks, utterly baffled by your words. His brow furrows and he is at a complete loss with how to respond. Finally, he settles on a simple and tired, "Wha-?" "What I said." You are utterly illogical. It makes it nearly impossible for him to comprehend you.

Your mind is fascinating, weird. You're fucking dumb sometimes.

His lips twitch upwards. That's why he loves you.

"You make no sense, ya know." He signs hard, rubbing his eyes. "And ya woke me up for that bullshit...you gotta pay me back, you better."

Neige

The sound of your voice is so familiar, and the words hit him like a wave of cool air while he's asleep. His body shifts as he starts to respond in the depths of his sleep.

"Wha-" He starts to say, his words faltering on the cusp of waking. "Cutie are you...is everything okay?" he asks groggily, a bit of sleep still clinging to him. If he could blush in his slumber, he would have been scarlet in shame for how his words slurred and garbled on his tongue. He slowly sits up, looking more worried than ever.

"I just saw a chicken picking up McDonald's at the gas station for detention." The words catch him off-guard once more, and he stares at you with a small confused smile on his face. He tries to process what you've said, but finds it impossible without more explanation.

His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and he tilts his head to the side, looking way to adorable for his own good. His confusion soon gives way to a brief chuckle, and he smiles widely and nods, still processing your words.

"That's such a nice story!...You should tell me the ending tomorrow though..." and with that he pulls you back against him and pets your head gently before both of you fall back asleep. He's still confused tho...

Rollo

He begins to stir, slowly waking to consciousness. His eyes dart around the room, his vision blurred and unfocused as he sits up. "Mmm, yes?" Rollo could never be mad if you woken him up for a reason, a good reason.

"I forgot to tell you that the telephone told me about the flying elephant with rainbow eyes and silver shoes." Rollo raises one eyebrow at first, thinking you're playing a trick on him. The joke is too outlandish to be real. Even this is to stupid for you.

But seeing that you're serious, he has no idea what to say. He is speechless. Oh...so you are that dumb huh? At this point the lord can't save him anymore.

"Is...that so?" he finally asks. "Yes!" Rollo stares at you incredulously as you continue. Every detail you describe is nonsensical and unrealistic. But his gaze remains firmly fixed on yours, and his thoughts are blank.

He struggles to understand why you woke him up. Is this a game? He is utterly puzzled. And his annoyance is starting to seep in. But the look in your eyes is magnetic, and it is difficult for him to hold his frustration. He sighs, "You...you are truly one of a kind, are you aware of that?" But Rollo can't help but smile at you, you just had to turn his life upside down, huh?

Crowley

He stirs slightly, his eyes blinking slowly open. He opens his mouth to speak, but then he realizes you are next to him and closes it again. His expression is soft and delicate, like your presence is a beacon of light in the darkness, and all he can focus on is you. You'd be surprised, moments of his adoration aren't that rare.

"What is it?" he asks with a slight yawn, his voice still soft and sleepy. "So like, I cooked us a clock with sprinkles of snow and the clock then when away with the pan because of their date at the baseball doctor." In spite of his tired mood, he bursts into laughter. A hearty, full-bellied laugh that only he would be so amused by such ridiculous, nonsensical statements.

"Ah, my love. It seems you have discovered the wonders of a dream," the headmaster chuckles, running his fingers curiously through your hair. For a moment he ponders about what other kinds of nonsense you would utter, if this is what your brain conjures just during your sleep.

He chuckles again in amusement. "Do go on," he encourages you, still looking through you with a light in his eyes. "Did the clock turn into a frog? Did the frog wear green boots and sing rock songs in kitchen utensils?" He's amused, but he also wants to know.

Crewel

As you call to him, you can see his eyelids twitch underneath. Your voice seems to permeate his dreams. There is no immediate answer as his eyes flutter in a way that seems to indicate that he's trying to force himself awake but still struggles to do so. He turns onto his back, his head tilting towards the sound of your voice. After a moment, he finally manages to open his eyes with a low groan. His hand reaches for his forehead and rubs it, as though he's suffered from a particularly intense headache. But once he sees you, he stops, his eyes brightening at the sight of your face.

All the weariness seems to leave him in an instance, yet not entirely. He manages a smile for you. "Puppy?..." "I just ate a singing pizza who told me the story of the bees and the snakes who danced underwater." "Ah..." Divus manages a confused hum. It takes him a moment as he seems to try and work it out in his head.

"They danced in...underwater?" He asks, voice soft. "Underwater...is a body of water...but...how does one..." he looks away from you as he attempts to picture the scenario. After a moment, he shakes his head, chuckling softly into his palm. "No matter. That is quite a tale, indeed my pup."

Divus draws you close and wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your shoulder and hugging you tightly. His breath is hot against your neck, his muscles tensing underneath.  "Sleep..." he mumbles softly, his voice seeming to get thicker as a low growl rumbles from his chest.

"Or does my pup want to keep being disobedient?"

Trein

(Solid grandpa issues ya'll have here)

It is almost as you say his name that his eyes blink quickly. They become wide and concerned. "Dearest?" he whispers with a hint of urgency in his voice. Though his expression turns gentle as he notices you aren't hurt or sick. His shoulders relax. "Yuu, have you not been feeling well?" Mozus asks, his voice a soothing melody. After a moment, he sits up. The bed creaks with the weight of his shifting body. Even Lucius wakes up from his slumber to tip tap his way over to your shared bed.

"Did you perhaps catch a cold? I could fetch some medicine if you would like." He doesn't want to see you in pain, not even for a moment. Oh, how caring he can be sometimes..."My hair turned purple because I washed it with dirt in the afternoon 13 years ago on a full red moon at midnight."

Silence hangs in the air as you speak. Mozus's expression remains concerned; worried. And then it turns into a frown. "Ah... You must've hit your head. Or else you wouldn't speak of such nonsense" he says. Though he tries to conceal it, a flicker of irritation flashes across his eyes. Your sudden statements seem to have sparked his annoyance.

"Or are you perhaps playing a childish prank on me at unholy hours?" he asks sharply, tone becoming stern. "If there is nothing else you require, I believe you've wasted enough of your time together." He tries to keep his voice neutral, but is obviously still slightly peeved at your game. "I-Im sorry..." His anger melts at your apology. His face melts back to a soft expression as he pulls you into his arms. His voice returns to its soothing tone as he presses his lips to yours.

When he pulls away, only seconds later, there's a content smile on to his lips. "Do not apologize," he says softly, voice quiet. Yet you feel a surge of pleasure run through your body. You feel almost as light as a feather once again. "I'm happy you're in best condition."

Vargas

Ashton jolts awake as he hears your voice, immediately rising into a defensive stance as he looks at you. Protectively he stands before the bed frantically looking around for potential danger with both his fists up, ready to punch whatever lurks in your shared bedroom.

"It's okay! Is there something wrong? Are you hurt?!" he asks anxiously but wild as he still holds his position. "Wha--no?!" He reacted so fast you couldn't keep up. "Oh...!" Asthon blinks a few times as he seems to calm himself. He lowers his fists, though now he seems completely at a loss for words. He stares at you blankly.

"That is good," he clears his throat, clearly embarrassed about the situation, "very good, yes " he offers a small smile, though you can sense him struggling to gather himself. "...so I woke up because the curtains were running away from a wild toaster." Ashton blinks a few times, processing this information. He seems to ponder it for a moment and then... bursts out into laughter.

It's a loud sound, like a true suburban father laugh. It's a sound of complete delight. Though, it doesn't take him too much effort to bring himself back. "Ah... yes," he says, "Wild toasters. They are very problematic." He lets himself sink into bed again, and like before, you're to slow to react. Because the moment his head hits the pillow, he's gone. Snoring the night away...

Sam

"Hm?" The mighty lord stirs in his sleep. He pulls the sheets tighter around him, his body twitching in his sleep. The sound of his name being uttered by you seems to have broken through his slumber. "Wake uuuup~!" "Hm?" Sam finally looks up at you, his eyes barely open. They seem to focus on you, taking a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room before he finally smiles. "Impy...?" He speaks in the softest of whispers, his voice almost hoarse as though it had been a while. "Did my friends wakw you...or...was it my snoring?"

"My shampoo ran out cause the towel used it for their skincare routine." "Ah..." He sits up, his expression still weary from sleep. Before you can even tell him to stop, he's already risen from the bed. He's practically half-asleep as he waddles towards the shop and comes back with a bottle of shampoo in hand.

He doesn't question you or the strange request at all. "There you go," he holds up a bottle of shampoo. "Only the best for my little imp, and since its you...its on the house" he says, although he looks like he's in a trance he does smirk at you.

"Thank...you?" You question as you take the bottle from his hands. Before you know it he drops face first into bed, "But...if ya need anythin' else...get it yourself...alright?" he mumbles into the pillow.

[tobyisave]

Peridot regeneration timeline! Just so i could dress her up a little hehe

(Headcanons I made while drawing this under the cut)

1. Along with not being able to shapeshift, Era 2s can’t do much more with their regenerations than change the color of their skin, which is why all of her outfits are skintight. (Except her visor because I don’t know fuck me I guess).

2. To cut costs, Era 2s also emerge knowing literally nothing except how to do their job (hence "touch stumps" "gravity connectors" etc). During “corrections” she gets her first uniform, which is a physical object they glue onto her - you can tell because her doll joints still show underneath. This is the only outfit that hangs off her body.

3. The first outfit also includes a mass-produced visor that doesn’t have a hole for her gem, so she suffers some energy deprivation having to absorb light through the glass. In her next regen she produces her own visor with a hole around her forehead, then by the next she figures out how to make it perfectly cut around her gem. The visor is what blocks you from seeing the facet edges of the gem (except I forgot to draw them again in the last design lol).

4. Her first limb enhancers are high quality and match her skin tone and everything. At 250 when she’s basically just an intern, she gets into an argument with a higher-up, who destabilizes her and revokes her fingers for a while --- this is when she becomes an obsessive rule-follower. After she gets exploded at age 2000 (rip) she gets these more generic enhancers that don’t match as well (the same kind of ‘spare’ enhancers Amethyst wears later on). They have a slightly different UI she doesn’t completely figure out until 3000 when she’s fighting the CGs.

5. Her feet are formless blobs because they were never supposed to see the light of day. She turns them into boots at the end because it’s the first time she’s really needed shoes. She still has fingers, though, because they figured she needs those in order to put on limb enhancers.

6. In canon, the fact that she stays the same before and after Garnet poofs her probably proves that she's just had the same design her entire life? But I will point out that for some reason, when she got put in a bubble it prevented her from experiencing the passage of time while poofed (right down to her continuing her own sentence when she regenerates this time).

[nhlclover]

bakeoff sparks fly au

✭ — summary: despite being back home for the holidays, sofia can't stop thinking about rutger

✭ — warnings: manic baking, overthinking

✭ — a/n: sofia is going through it

✭ — word count: 0.88k

This was the first time since the summer that all three Fantilli kids were back in Toronto, all sleeping under the same roof. Michigan was now on winter break and the 4 day holiday freeze was in effect in the NHL. It didn’t take long for the three siblings to fall back into their regular habits, playing board games whenever they got the chance, as well as heading to the ODR and playing unregulated games of hockey.

“Sof, you up?” Sofia heard Adam’s voice come through the door.

Despite being almost noon, Sofia was not up, using the break as a way to catch up on her sleep schedule. She groaned loudly, pulling her comforter over her head. She heard the door click open and her bedding ripped off her bed, exposing her body to the cold air.

“Adam!” She whined, grasping for her comforter.

“Luca and I are going shopping wanna come?” Adam asked, holding the bedding out of her grasp.

“Are you guys not done Christmas shopping yet?” Sofia asks

“I am, but Luca forgot a gift for Dad.” Adam tells her.

Sofia rolls her eyes. “No, I’m gonna stay in and wrap some presents.”

Adam drops her bedding, allowing Sofia to wrap herself in her blankets. “Text me if you need anything.” He says, leaving her room.

Sofia attempts to fall back to sleep but finds herself completely awake. She forced herself out of bed and headed downstairs to get breakfast.

It didn’t take long before the thought of him was back. The entire time Sofia had been home, memories of Rutger haunted her. Random reminders of him would come to mind, summoning the memories of her rejection. Her hands would begin to sweat, her heart beating at an unusual pace.

Every time she thought of him, she was reminded of the rejection. Because it wasn’t just a rejection. Rutger, at the same time, rejected Sofia and made her feel small. Like she was her brother's annoying little sister. Sofia hated how much he was occupying her mind.

When Luca and Adam come through the front door, they’re met with the strong smell of vanilla and loud music. Pulling off their shoes, they venture to the kitchen only to be met with chaos.

There are various ingredients scattered on the counters, with dishes stacked in the sink. In the middle of everything is Sofia, her pinstripe apron that was once a gift from Luca and Adam is covered in flour, her hair thrown up into a claw clip. Zach Bryan is blaring through her phone while she’s whipping something in a bowl.

“Sof!” Adam calls to her, finally drawing her attention as she hadn’t noticed they’d come home.

“Hey!” She grins.

Suddenly there’s a timer going off, sending Sofia to the oven. She puts on a pair of oven mitts, removing a tray of cookies from the oven.

The pair of brothers exchange a slightly worried look. They recognize this behaviour but it seems misplaced. Sofia has a habit of baking when she’s stressed or anxious. She baked during her high school exams and just before Adam was drafted. When she stress bakes, she goes HAM. She bakes four or five different things, from muffins to cookies, and often a type of bread.

However, to Luca and Adam, she had no reason to be stressed. She was done with exams and had gotten her marks back indicating a successful semester.

“Sof, what are you doing?” Luca asked.

“Baking!” Sofia smiles. “I’ve got shortbread cookies baking in the oven, some gingerbread cookies that I’m letting cool before frosting— ooh! You guys can help decorate if you want! And then the dough for cinnamon rolls is rising in the fridge.”

Sofia resumes her task of cutting out gingerbread men figures, singing aloud to ‘Revival’.

“What’s wrong with her?” Adam asks Luca, keeping his voice low so that Sofia wouldn’t hear.

“I’m not sure… she was fine yesterday.” Luca tells him.

The boys take off their coats, heading up to Adam’s room to wrap presents and figure out what’s wrong with Sofia.

“I have nothing, she was fine when we came home, she hasn’t baked or even cooked until today.” Luca told Adam.

Adam shook his head. Something was wrong with his sister. “What about at school? Did something happen?” He asked.

Luca thought back to Halloween. “Well…”

“Well, what? What happened?” Adam pried.

“It was just…at a Halloween party, this dude was harassing her but nothing happened. Rutger intervened and fucking almost fought the guy for her,” Luca explained. “But that was way back in October, it couldn’t still be bothering her.”

“Listen, dude, if she keeps this up after I’m gone, you need to talk to her.” Adam tells him.

“She won’t tell me, why don’t you ask her now?” Luca asked.

“C’mon, man. We both know which one of us she goes to when she’s upset.” Adam says.

Sure, Adam and Sofia were twins and often found solace in the other, however, Sofia always found that her older brother always knew what to say. Luca was the one she turned to whenever she needed advice or guidance. Adam was right, out of the two of them Luca was more likely to get any answers out of Sofia.

[hermannsthumb]

Please please please more "Fake Dating for Funding"! I haven't read much PR stuff in the last few years and your newest piece jerked me right back to that old standby hyperfixation. It's so cute!!

answering this sooooo late, OOPS SORRY, but here's a little ficlet as i try to get myself back in the writing groove.... the original fake dating for funding fic is right here, but i was thinking over plot concepts earlier and this one made me laugh, LMAO

------------------------------------------------------

"I have a favor to ask of you," Hermann says one morning.

Typical of Hermann, it's blunt and to the point, no show of bartering or sweetening Newt up with dessert or anything like that. In theory Newt should be annoyed, but Hermann indebts himself to Newt so rarely (and never willingly) that Newt’s actually kind of interested to see where this goes. He pushes up his work goggles and strips off his gloves without a second thought.

Hermann is standing directly over Newt’s side of the yellow line, one hand balled into a fist while the other white-knuckles his cane, his shoulders hunched over. He looks extremely uncomfortable. On the other hand Hermann rarely looks comfortable, so this isn’t anything new, or something to draw immediate conclusions from.

“Okay,” Newt says. “Lay it on me.”

“I would not blame you if you found yourself thinking less of me,” Hermann says, “or outright rejecting the proposition. I’m aware it is far more than one typically asks of a…” He swallows. “Colleague.”

The word hangs awkwardly in the air between them. It’s not that it’s an inaccurate descriptor, but it doesn’t completely encompass the, uh, reality of things, being that they were a litttttle more than colleagues up until two months ago. (Not that they called themselves anything other than colleagues for the duration of that whole—indiscretion. It was a little confusing.)

Still, Hermann’s groveling, and Newt’s interested. “Oh, sweet,” he says, maybe a little too casually. Just two bros having a normal conversation about how they're nothing more than colleagues. “I’m totally in. What are we doing? Is it illegal or something?”

He could actually use Hermann’s mad computer hacker skills for something in the near future—Newt wants unrestricted card access to the typically very restricted hazardous materials storage in the jaeger bay for reasons he’s not going to disclose—and doing something illegal for the guy would be a great way to get him to do something illegal for Newt in return. In a favor-for-favor way more than a blackmail way, because Newt mostly isn't a dick. And anyway, maybe doing some platonic fun k-science bonding time will be good for them. Make things a little less tense. Newt’s been working on that really hard lately, mostly because his multiple Shatterdome transfer requests have been outright denied by the Marshal and he seems to be out of alternatives.

“No,” Hermann says.

He looks at his shoes. He’s about two unlucky inches away from stepping on a piece of kaiju spleen Newt dropped earlier and forgot about, and the fact that he’s not taking any precautions to shield his precious ugly wingtips tells Newt he means business. “Perhaps a little…morally questionable.”

“Oooh, Hermann, you’re such a tease,” Newt says. He tosses his nasty gloves in the trash can and scoots Hermann towards the cluster of their desks with a hand to the small of his back, ignoring the way Hermann bristles and digs the end of his cane halfheartedly into the floor. “Come on, come on, I’ll make coffee, stop looking so depressed.”

He does make himself a coffee but brews a quick cup of black tea for Hermann, which turns out to be kind of a waste of his time, since Hermann blatantly ignores the mug Newt slides in front of him. He’s gone from looking like the most emo librarian in the world to looking vaguely nauseous. If circumstances weren’t as they are, Newt might say it was making him look exceptionally alluring—that whole sickly Victorian lad thing really gets him going. “If you’ve forgotten,” Hermann says, “we’ve another of those foolish PPDC fundraisers soon, at the end of the month.”

“Oh.” Newt leans back in his chair, a little disappointed. “Is that it?”

“Yes,” Hermann says. “No.” He shakes his head gravely. He’s so dramatic sometimes, it’s kinda cute. “It is the root of the problem, but not the entirety of it. You’ll recall, I presume, how badly in need of funding we are, myself in particular for the Breach-mapping software I am attempting to develop.”

Newt does recall, because yeah, he is also in need of funding real bad. Can’t make awesome, ground-breaking advancements in the field of kaiju biology without any kaiju bits to study the biology of. That spleen currently threatening to ooze over the yellow tape line represents approximately sixty percent of Newt's remaining currently viable samples. “Uh, yeah?”

“I have,” Hermann makes a face, “a working theory, so to speak. You’ll further recall the similar PPDC event we attended in August of last year?”

“Yeah?”

“And the one we attended this year, in the week following our—”

“Yeah, Hermann, I remember.”

“Right,” Hermann says.

Newt remembers the second one more clearly than he likes, because having to make nice with Hermann to present a united front six days after a very, very stupid argument about Newt maaaaybe stealing half of Hermann’s sandwich—which ultimately led to a mutual and spur of the moment decision to dissolve the whole weird lab partners-with-benefits thing they had going on—was one of the more uncomfortable experiences of his career. Still, he made as nice as he could, because his supply of work gloves and Keurig pods were running dangerously low and he didn’t feel like shelling out the money from his own abysmally small paycheck for any.

He doesn’t know what was so significant about the other one they went to though, the one last August. It was humid. Newt remembers being so hot he had to take off his tie, and he lost it somewhere in the convention center afterwards. He misses that tie. Hermann hated it, which makes him culprit number one in its disappearance.

“We drew in significantly more donations in August than we did two months ago,” Hermann says, and opens the top drawer of his desk to produce a neat stack of papers, which he spreads in front of Newt to reveal a series of color-coded spreadsheets.

Newt’s eyes glaze over a little at the sight. He doesn’t bother extending the effort to confirm Hermann’s data—as much as he hates to admit it, the guy is thorough with his numbers and rarely wrong about stuff like this. He flips through it anyway to appease him. And, honestly, he thinks Hermann’s feelings would be hurt if he didn’t, and Newt really is committed to being a good labmate (y’know, for the very brief time being). “And prior to August,” Hermann continues, “you’ll note that the average sum total of donations we received per event was significantly lower. August was an anomaly.”

“Sure,” Newt says. “So what?”

Hermann slides the spreadsheet back into his desk, pulls his dorky glasses off, and exhales slowly: he’s getting to the point. Newt has a hunch what that point might be, but Hermann always looks funny when he gets into lecture mode, and Newt doesn’t want to interrupt it.

“I believe,” Hermann says, “that our—relationship status, which was significantly different on that occasion as compared to the rest—might possibly have had no small influence, for one reason or another. We certainly behaved more, er, affectionately, or tenderly around each other, and perhaps others took note and found it charming. Or some such thing. Of course I can't draw any conclusions from a single point of data, but I believe if we were to... Well, it's a bit silly, hearing myself now.”

“You want me to be your fake b-f so we can trick people into giving a shit about us and shake them down easier,” Newt says.

The tips of Hermann’s generous ears go red. “I’m aware it’s an unusual request,” he says, “especially considering… recent certain developments in our working relationship.”

It’s not exactly the fun platonic bonding time Newt anticipated, but he has a hunch Hermann might be on to something—the whole doomed romance, give us money so our love has a fighting chance of surviving the apocalypse thing, which they were apparently already inadvertently playing up. He’s willing to give it a shot. Making a joke out of it might actually help Newt let go of his last lingering nostalgia for that super brief period of time he and Hermann got up to after-hours hijinks and were almost amicable with each other. And, you know, on the other hand, if that doesn’t work, he could totally do the opposite of moving on and revel in the opportunity to do couple-y tender things with Hermann again.

“Yeah, sure,” Newt says. Real chill about it. He’s so chill, man.

Hermann blinks at him owlishly, clearly taken aback, but says nothing.

“It’ll be fun,” Newt adds. “It’s a good plan, great idea, it’ll totally work. Nothing has to be weird, right? I mean, it’s not like we were really even dating before or anything. There’s no reason for it to be weird. It’s definitely not for me. Is it for you?”

“No, er, of course not,” Hermann says. “It was my idea, wasn’t it?”

They’re totally over each other, but they can also totally pretend they’re not for a night or two, no sweat. “Cool,” Newt says, and repeats, maybe to convince himself, “It’ll be fun. We can dress up all fancy and wear matching ties or something and talk about how tragic we are. I’ll grab your ass in front of people and you can brag about how cool and smart and sexy I am.”

“You are not doing that,” Hermann says, “and I am not doing that. When have I ever—oh, nevermind. I am not averse to the neckties, however, especially if it means you’re at least attempting to look somewhat professional for our prospective—”

“Dude, come on, you totally just think I look hot in a suit.”

The splotchy red flush spreads from Hermann’s ears to his neck as he scowls at Newt. He doesn’t bother denying it: Newt’s sure they both vividly remember the most recent annual k-science research symposium when Newt finally let himself be talked into renting a fancy blazer, to look, uh, like the expert in your field you are, Newton, and Hermann had such a hard time keeping his hands off Newt in increasingly unchaste ways that they had to duck out early. I like when you look put-together and competent, Hermann said, or something along those lines, there was a lot of kissing going on and Newt wasn’t exactly paying attention to specifics. He ended up losing the deposit on the suit—which is why he stole the sandwich in the first place, actually. Very petty revenge. Full circle.

“Piss off,” Hermann grumbles.

“We’re gonna have to put in for just one hotel room if we wanna sell it, you know,” Newt says, the realization suddenly hitting him. “Maybe even one bed. It’ll look totally suspicious if we don’t, right?”

Hermann meets his eyes for a few awkward, quiet seconds, and then they both quickly look away from each other. Newt stands up and makes a show of gathering their untouched mugs, both of which have gone extremely cold. Hermann slips his glasses back on and opens up his desk drawer to shuffle through his immaculate spreadsheets again, pretending to look for errors that they both know aren't there.

“We’ve,” Hermann finally says, and then clears his throat. “We’ve survived worse. I'm sure we can manage. It’s only for two nights, after all.”

“Yeah, totally,” Newt says.

[4ggravation]

sumeru boys redesigns + notes

as you may know, i redesigned the sumeru boys a few weeks ago because, as much as i love them to bits, their designs are well. not that great in some areas. also because i wanted to draw them more often without the roadblock of their designs being so complicated. i've mainly been drawing my cyno and tighnari redesigns, but i did also do alhaitham and kaveh, so i thought that i'd show off these redesigns in one post, along with some notes on why i made certain decisions. hope you enjoy!

(pre-note: just so no one gets confused, i also renamed everyone when i did my redesigns, giving tighnari and alhaitham first names and cyno and kaveh last names.)

tighnari ❀

(renamed abdullah al-tighnari; tighnari was made his surname because that was the case for the real guy he was based on)

i went into this thinking "how can i make this design more appealing to me while still retaining what the original design meant?". since tighnari is one of my favorites in the game overall, i put a lot of pressure on myself to make a decent design.

a lot of tighnari's design inspiration comes from moroccan (specifically amazigh) culture, which i kept in my mind through most of the drawing. this inspiration shows in his bead necklace (i forget the name), his belt, and his earring, which i remade to mirror the shape of moroccan headpieces.

gave him some muscles because there's no way a guy with his job wouldn't have them. also a bottom-heavy fat distribution for self-indulgent purposes.

the design has less layers and lighter/flowier clothes because of tighnari's canon sensitivity to heat. if you're living in the rainforest (a famously humid biome), you probably wouldn't be wearing what canon tighnari does, heat sensitivity or not.

gave him some traits that are popular headcanons, such as the flower thigh tattoo, the sharp teeth, the scars, the claw-like nails (with the middle and ring nails filed down for No Reason), and the lichtenberg figure. also gave him tan skin and wavy hair because i Cannot deal with canon nari looking like that.

sturdy shoes! archery gloves! his vision on his belt! quality of life features that an actual forest ranger would have!

i will admit that the slit pants, the shorts, and the tights were all for self-indulgence reasons, but i think they go together well with the rest of the outfit too.

a braid in his hair for cynari marriage purposes. (i hc that in sumeru, marriages are consummated by braiding each other's hair)

kaveh ❂

(renamed kaveh laghmani; surname is of iranian origin, but i forgot the meaning)

another real quick note: if i change a character's pronouns in their rewrite, i'll be using those pronouns in their notes. here, kaveh goes by he/she pronouns (she just like me fr).

his canon design is actually my favorite of the sumeru boys, so this redesign was more of a simplification while still keeping the original color scheme and such.

from my research, kaveh's mainly inspired by persian/iranian culture. this is what i had in mind with her shirt and her jacket... shawl... thing. idk what to call it.

kept him a skinny twink; imo, her being a twink in canon fits pretty well.

emphasized the bird of paradise motif with the thing on her side looking like feathers. you will see this again with alhaitham.

made him brunet for more cohesion with the color palette, also because i don't like the whole blonde-fading-to-brown situation he has going on in his canon design.

flowers!!! also giving him a pretty headpiece bc this guy is flashy. also also keeping the feather, it's cunty and fun.

i wanted to make kaveh obviously gnc/genderqueer without going into full-on feminine outfit territory. you can tell she's not quite cis but it's not super in your face yk?

made his vision one of his earrings like yae miko because i forgot to give it a proper place in my concept drawings lmao

quality of life feature: actual artist gloves that aren't cut off. seriously, them being fingerless in the canon design completely negates the point of artist gloves.

removed his braids because of the aforementioned marriage headcanon.

alhaitham ⚘

(renamed amir al-haytham; i wanted to give him the most basic name possible, though i fought with myself a lot on whether to write it as al-haitham or al-haytham)

my god i despise his canon design. it's so... not him. my goal with a redesign was just to give him an outfit that made sense for his character because jesus his canon design is an atrocity.

alhaitham is mainly inspired by either saudi arabian or general west asian culture (like what's constant and such). i was mainly inspired by casual saudi arabian menswear when i was designing him.

hot take but i don't like alhaitham being buff in canon. i made him chubby/fat in my redesign mainly for self-indulgent reasons, but also because it makes more sense to me. also gave him facial hair because yes

kept his color scheme mostly the same, along with the eye motif. emphasized the eagle motif slightly with the feather hip piece (see: kaveh's redesign).

gave him a headscarf (not a hijab or anything like that, just a regular headscarf) because he felt like the type, plus i got the design idea for it and went "well i can't not include it now".

wanted to give him the vibes of an npc who was forced to be a main character

no he isn't wearing his vision anywhere, he doesn't carry it around in my rewrite.

quality of life features: more sensible, looser clothes that are easier to live in- really the whole design is meant to be a quality of life improvement first and foremost

cyno ⚡︎

(renamed cyno al-sahrawi; surname meaning is "of the sahara" or more generally, "of the desert")

like kaveh, i'm gonna be using he/they pronouns for cyno here because that's what i put in my rewrite.

in my opinion, cyno's design is relatively solid, but with a few glaring flaws that kinda ruin everything for me. i'll bring them up as these notes go on.

they're very obviously inspired by ancient egyptian culture, specifically anubis. like, it's very blatant. with my redesign, i wanted to keep those inspirations in mind while making the outfit less stereotypical and make more sense.

why does this man, who's said to fight a lot, not wear a shirt? why are you letting the place where most of your vital organs reside breathe freely? also, why does this guy not have scars?

simplified a bunch of patterns, especially below the belt and with his headpiece. also made their helmet(?) a darker, more saturated purple to attract your eyes' attention to it.

gave him eye of horus makeup for a little cultural nod

the black piece in the back was made to look like a tail to further the jackal thing.

curly hair that resembles lightning bolts <3

the shoes were inspired by traditional egyptian footwear, because if this guy is out in the desert all the time, i'm not letting him go without some kind of foot protection.

quality of life features: a bit of armor on his arm (partially for aesthetic purposes), less flowy bits on his helmet and hips to prevent distraction or getting caught on things, the aforementioned shoes

added braids for cynari purposes, because i'm me.

hope you enjoyed reading this! please keep in mind that this is all off the top of my head and doesn't even go into color theory, how the designs mirror each other, and other smaller things like that. i might make a part 2 someday going into those things, but who knows with my memory lmao

reblogs are heavily appreciated!

[solitaireships]

Rest Your Head

So I had this fic mostly written for Clorinde for a long time, and then was under the impression that for some reason I had finished it and just hadn't posted it bcs I was never having the right energy for that. It turns out I did not actually finish it, so I finished it now and present it to you! I get pretty bad headaches a lot so I like thinking about my f/os helping to relax with that

Rating: Gen

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort kind of

Words: 1035 words

Divider by saradika

Headaches seem to be the ever present bane of Andromeda’s existence. While she might not have them daily, they’re frequent enough to be a constant nuisance. Tonight she finds herself stuck at home from her headache, the lights as dim as possible but still managing to bother her head. She’s been lying in bed for the past hour now, only half conscious as she tries to rest her eyes. It’s a harder task than it should be with her racing thoughts, which only seem to make the throbbing of her head worse. 

The sharp sound of knocking on the door is enough to draw a pained groan from Andromeda as her head pounds to the rhythm of the noise. She forces herself out of bed, making her way to the front door. She should have closed her bedroom door— if she did it would’ve been easier to ignore whoever is at the apartment’s front door. 

Though as she opens the door, she regrets getting up less. 

“Oh, Clorinde,” Andromeda says, doing her best to sound unaffected by her headache. “Hi.”

“You didn’t make it to our dinner, so I was worried,” Clorinde says. She looks past Andromeda into the apartment, noting the dim lights. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” 

She says it as a reflex. Andromeda hates admitting when she isn’t fine, even in moments like these. But she reminds herself that Clorinde deserves better than her hiding things, especially when she just bailed on her for a date. She can’t believe that she forgot about it— normally she would have remembered and taken a painkiller to power through. 

“Sorry, I— I have a pretty bad headache right now. Our date must have slipped my mind, we can try to reschedule if that’s okay,” Andromeda says. 

“It’s alright, we can try again tomorrow,” Clorinde says. “May I come in?”

“I don’t know how good company I’ll be right now.”

“We don’t have to talk if you’re not up to it.” Clorinde steps into the apartment, taking her shoes off as Andromeda closes the door behind her. “Would rest help?”

“Yeah, that’s what I was doing before. I know it’s not the most interesting way to spend your time, though.”

“We don’t always have to do interesting things together. I’d be glad to do anything as long as it’s with you,” Clorinde says. 

“Oh,” is all Andromeda can manage in response to that. She and Clorinde have been together for a while now, but it’s rare for either of them to give such gentle, direct affections like that. If she weren’t in the middle of fighting off a headache, she might have been able to come up with something more appropriately affection in return, but instead she just manages to say, “Okay.”

“Go to bed,” Clorinde suggests. “I’ll join you in a minute, I just should take off some of these layers first.”

“You don’t need to rush,” Andromeda says.

“I won’t,” she replies.

Andromeda only barely manages to make it to her room without stumbling, turning off the lights completely and collapsing into bed. Were she in a clearer state of mind, she might have felt worse about their date night turning into staying in, but instead all she can think of is enjoying the silence and surrounding darkness. She settles under her blankets, eyes closing as she tries to relax and soothe her headache.

It doesn’t take long for Clorinde to make her way into the bedroom. She’s taken off her hat and cape, stripping down to her button up shirt and skirt without anything else over top of them. Even as out of it as she is, Andromeda can appreciate how she looks dressed down, more relaxed than usual.

“Are you awake?” Clorinde asks, voice low so as not to wake Andromeda if she was asleep.

“You know I don’t go to sleep that quickly,” she replies in a whisper. “Maybe if my headache gets better we can go out a little later?”

“Only if you’re feeling up to it,” Clorinde replies as she settles into bed. She guides Andromeda closer to her, letting her rest her head on her chest. “For now, just get some rest. Anything else can come later.”

“Alright,” Andromeda says. “Thank you, and I’m sorry again.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. A rest will be good for both of us,” Clorinde promises. 

And it’s easier for Andromeda to sleep with her saying that. She relaxes against Clorinde, eyes closing as sleep beckons to her far faster than it usually does. Consciousness comes and goes as she fights a battle she knows she cannot win against her headache, but it’s a comfort to know she’s riding this out with her girlfriend. 

Andromeda wakes up only half aware that she had fallen asleep. Peering at the clock on the other side of the room shows she must have been asleep for an hour by now though. It’s unlike her, she’s never been someone who naps often. Usually it’s only when she’s sick. But she supposes her headache counts as being sick. 

At least she’s feeling better now. She still has a faint headache, but it’s less unbearable. She’s sure if she had to, she could go about her life like normal without too much issue. 

Not that she would want to right now. She wakes up with her head resting against Clorinde’s chest, one arm draped across her middle. She must have fallen asleep too, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, one hand resting on Andromeda’s back. 

She looks peaceful when she sleeps. Clorinde is a hard worker, and someone who’s always more focused on her duties as a Champion Duelist. It’s good to see her getting some rest for once, and Andromeda can’t bring herself to disturb her. 

So she presses a quick kiss to Clorinde’s shoulder before cuddling up against her, eyes closed. Maybe she’ll wake up in a moment and they can do some more typical date activities, maybe she’ll stay asleep and the two of them will talk in the morning. But for now, Andromeda is glad for this moment, and for the comfort of Clorinde at her side as she rests her head.

[misc-obeyme]

"you and mammon are clearly made for each other" 🥹 🥹 excuse me while i go sob, that's so sweet

I really should start writing! I keep daydreaming scenes and the whole thing plays out in my head, but I never put it to paper. It's just rattling around (also I saw a tiktok saying that not everything you draw has to be with the intention of becoming a finished piece, and I've been having SO MUCH FUN sketching today.)

Like today, I got a tiktok about Orpheus and eurydice that really stuck with me. And there's the whole debate of whether or not you'd turn around if you were in their shoes. And I was imagining the brothers reaction to it, and probably some of them saying they could make it with ease if it was for MC (i think Mammon and Lucifer would argue they could, and maybe Satan or Beel would be the one to say they might turn around)

"Do y'all really think you could make it? His love for her was his reason and his undoing."

"C'mon! It can't be that hard, right? Ya just gotta follow the Great Mammon, I'd lead ya outta danger easy peasy! No turning back required."

"But think about it, Mammon. Can you? Could you hear me behind you, and never feel torn by wanting to take a peek? Could you trust that I'd follow you anywhere? You know you can, you know that I would, but you would still want to see for yourself. The anxiety would be eating me away."

"But it means both of us getting out if I don't peek! If it was for you, I'm sure I could do it... I just have to keep going. Ain't it that simple?"

"Honestly, if I was in his shoes, and I heard you speak my name, I'd have to drop to my knees to resist what's now become second nature. And even then, I'm not sure I'd make it. I would turn around, I would need to make sure you're okay...Think about it, Orpheus loved her too much, so he turned. I would turn around if it was you behind me-... *Coughs* Uh, anyway... That's how I see it..."

"...Did you just-" -Satan

"WOW WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME, I THINK I FORGOT SOME HOMEWORK, NIGHT GUYS!"

"it's 5:00 pm??" - Mammon, who is trying to figure out wtf happened and why i ran off

and this is how i would be accidentally confessing i was in love with mammon. because god knows i would deny my feelings to hell and back in the beginning!! (I'm pretty sure I'm ALSO a tsundere unfortunately 😭)

anyway, who do you think would/wouldn't turn around? do you think Barbatos would? Solomon?

- ✨ anon

Yo, I'm just calling it like I see it!

I just find that it helps to get the ideas out somehow! That could be writing or drawing or whatever you like! I think most creating is like that, too - you can do a lot without necessarily having to completely finish it! I'm glad you've been sketching a bunch!

BAH that is the CUTEST confession ever???

Especially if he doesn't get it lolol classic Mammon right there.

Oh NO two tsunderes falling for each other!?! It's okay, slow burns are great lol. Though it'd be one of those situations where everybody else is fully aware that you're both in love with each other and they're just like siiiigh these two. That's so cute, though!

Let's see, who would turn?

I don't think Barbatos would. I think part of what caused Orpheus to turn around was that he didn't believe Eurydice was actually behind him. He didn't trust the gods and like... who can blame him? Greek gods do all kinds of crazy shit all the time.

But Barbatos? He'd know. He'd know somehow if MC was behind him. Not only that, but there's no way anybody would trick him. I think if they did, they'd unlock Murderous Barb in two seconds flat and I'm convinced that guy could kill a god if he wanted to. He's a very patient demon, but he won't stand being tricked over something like that. You do that, you forfeit your life. Possibly being dragged to the infamous dungeon even.

It'd be harder for Solomon. He just doesn't have the same kind of all-knowing master of time nonsense that Barb has. I feel like he'd be more on par with Orpheus, if older and wiser due to the whole immortality thing.

To be honest, I kinda see Solomon being the one to do the tricking. Like I don't think he'd just accept a deal like that. I don't think he'd trust it. So he'd either try to negotiate for something he does feel okay with or he'd use his magic to somehow hold the god accountable. (Not sure if it'd actually be Hades in this scenario since we're talking about the Underworld... wouldn't it be interesting if it was Diavolo????? OMG that would change my Barb answer lol. But let's assume it isn't him, but some other entity of Death or something.) I just think Solomon would be more likely to use his magic to guarantee that things go the way he would want them to.

If for some reason he couldn't do any of that, though, and it just came down to him having to walk out of the Underworld without turning around... I think he could do it. I think it'd be really hard for him. But I think he could do it. Especially if MC was still really young when they died.

MAN. That's tragic. Good thing this isn't something all our fools would have to do can you imagine???

[laithraihan]

Hey I really love your art - I wanted to ask if you use references from anywhere specific.

Also, have you considered the idea of Reigan becoming Minori's Guardian Ad Litem? I agree that Reigans not exactly the kind of person to make the most responsible father (at least where we leave him in the show) but I could totally imagine him becoming her guardian for some legal reason.

He's really the only adult she'd know to trust outside her father.

I can imagine they're put a whole court case together with Reigan as her guardian just for legal reasons and they win, and then Minori's like. "Oh shit where do I go? Guess your my guardian for real now." And Reigan is like.

What?

Thank you 🫶💜 hmm well for pose references including clothing etc I just get them from google stock images, I generally try to avoid making the pose too similar to the images I see so I sometimes draw in different angles (honestly most of the time I struggle looking up references because I cant find a picture in a specific angle I want, so I go with my intuition even if it's wrong), honestly google is probably the place I rely on the most for this. Like if I forget what a shoe looks like then I'll just google it.

If you're talking about where I got inspiration for my art style (or what I look to get ideas for my art etc) I'd say the major ones for me are ONE's sketches on twitter (especially his shaky lineart and how he draws eyes), early episodes of Detective Conan (clothing folds, color choices sometimes, body proportions like the chest being pointed etc), Revolutionary Girl Utena (also clothing and body proportions), FLCL (I have no idea what parts of it influenced my art but I feel like it's an obligation to list it here)

Uhh for the fun drawings that require more effort I'd say music is inevitably the most important part of it. 99% of the time my drawings that arent plain sketches are modeled after a specific song I listen to (primarily from ZARD but other artists too although not as often) even then I think my sketches are still influenced by ZARD somehow. Wait I completely forgot to mention I also look up images of ZARD on Pinterest for poses or just... to draw anything honestly. Theres a good number of pictures of her in various angles (I remember one of her photographers said she was very photogenic so most of her pictures are very casual as if a camera wasn't present) I think it's good to look at them if you are looking for something natural. Just looking up "Izumi Sakai" there will give you results.

For text placement/colors/vibe/whatever I like to look at old media I grew up with like MADs, shitty websites made in the 90s/2000s, old anime subtitled in Arabic (I have plenty of DVDs with anime dubbed/subbed in Arabic that I have no idea where we got them from, I assume it's all pirated. Anime openings/endings in Arabic also have very poor aesthetics when it comes to logo placement/text color/text animation/etc but that's exactly why I like them) I also have a Pinterest board with outdated ZARD edits that I look at often while drawing. For image textures or backgrounds I use this website. If I struggle with art block or don't know how to draw a specific thing I also look at everything I previously listed and reference from there. Anyways I talked a Lot but hopefully I could help with that.

As for Reigen being a guardian .... I never considered it seriously but I think he could pull it off. He'll definitely make mistakes but he could succeed if he had a daughter. I just have to kill off Minori's real dad or something and it'll work. The only problem would be that Minori has to live with the fact that her new father is broke and unable to spend thousands of dollars for her every week.

[faeseekerandy]

The Furies Master OC Index

Created This to keep track of all my OC and published volumes

Vol 1 | Vol 2 | Vol 3 | vol 4 | Vol 5 | Vol 6 | Vol 7 | Vol 8

The Furies is an ever expanding series, with no true end in sight. I started this series while in High School. At first, the series only had Kida. In the end, we decided to add the character Gilgamesh, and then history was made. In this series, my brother helped me quite a bit. I drew the linearts, and I pitched some of the raw dialogue. When the drawings where finished, they where scanned and made into perfect line arts in the photoshop. With that concluded, he puts the shading and the dialogue boxes. It is a bit of a bother to always try to do dialogues boxes on the manga. I feel that it distracts from the overall composition. The first version of The Furies manga was like a complete mess. We had to go back to square one, and start all over. Even when the new Volume 1 was completed, we had to go back and add more pages. Mainly, I added the origin story of both Gilgamesh and this Kida. I also added how Gilgamesh ran into Brahma, or Krishna. When I got to University, I took a bunch of religious classes. Of all the Gods I studied, I developed an affinity for Krishna. He just seemed like a fun, yogurt loving type of God. Since I also like Yogurt, I ended up putting him on the Manga as a supporting character. Krishna has played a supportive role in a lot of Hindu legends. So, the role fits him like a shoe. Aside from Kida, there are 3 other furies as well. They start by being a bother to Gil, and eventually the manga focuses on Kida more. The manga has a huge cast that rivals that of One Piece. I try not to have too many folks on the same page, at the same time. Still, I acknowledge that they exist from time to time. For those that do not know, The Furies are a revenge type of Goddesses. They are known as the Kindly Ones. The represent the past order. They are what life was all about, before the Jury system was implemented in Greece. In their titular story, Orestes committed matricide. Gil killed his father, and did not get punished because he was royalty. It is for this reason that the Furies started bothering Gilgamesh. When I say Gilgamesh, you must take his name with a grain of salt. It is like being named Jesus or something. This Gilgamesh happens to have a friend named Enkiku, which is very close to the name Enkidu. From a normal type of setting, Gilgamesh and Kida get into some crazy adventures in their fight against the Abandons. The human leader of the Abandons is a man named, Gates. He steals the suns from Solar Systems. This makes him a step more evil than Galactus. I can empathize with Galactus. When I get hungry, I feel like I could eat a whole planet. Have you ever been that hungry? I certainly have. Anyhow, the core of the show is the relationship between Gilgamesh and Kida, as it grows as the manga progresses. Before you think this is a sappy romance manga, let me assure it is not. I don’t even think I remember drawing them kissing. The show is an action, comedy. As the manga progresses, I lean more towards comedy, but I am not afraid to throw a bit of action in the mix just for giggles. I also do musical numbers. Every so often, I do little song parodies, or reference songs that nobody seems to remember. I am just trying to keep it fresh as all. If you are not having fun drawing the manga, then how can you expect for the reader to have fun while reading it? Aside from the music, I have like a bunch of paintings and art references. You need to be an art historian to catch all the references I make. I should have marked them when I was making the manga. I eventually forgot most of the names of the works I referenced. Paintings are just easy for arranging scenes in the manga. For now, there is about 11 volumes of the manga. Depending on when you are reading this, there might be more out there. It takes time to publish. I hope you have as much reading the Furies as I had drawing it.

Characters

Gil - Bio

Kida - Bio

Enkiku -Bio

[bellesowl]

kiss and make up

- multiple characters 

⤷ atsumu, sakusa

genre: (an attempt at) angst to fluff ; established relationship, timeskip 

synopsis: in which you have an almost relationship-ending argument

word count: 2.1k total - about 1k each

warnings: fighting (obv), being called a burden, the boys are kinda mean but they make up for it i swear

- a/n: tbh i was kinda getting sick of writing just fluff so i wanted to spice it up a lil! if this sucks i’m probably going to stick to fluff fics but i think it should be fine? this one also only has 2 characs cause idk how i would be at writing angst LMAO if this does well enough i’ll post the one i have written w kuroo and iwa <3 but i feel like this kinda sucks so oh well

- thank u @kybabi for beta-ing <3

- miya atsumu

you n atsumu have been together since high school which is why you’ve always been inseparable

you went to the same college & moved in together right after, but once he got his job with the jackals, he insisted that you didn’t work and focused on getting your master’s degree

you reluctantly agreed, if only to be able finish & earn your phd soon after

because atsumu is always busy, it’s kinda become commonplace for you to do the chores around the house- like doing the laundry or washing the dishes or cooking dinner for him

but it’s gotten to the point where he expects it

atsumu sighs, unlocking the door to your shared apartment. today’s practice was rough, it was a day of hard conditioning and bad sets and he wanted nothing more than a good meal and to cuddle. the first thing he noticed when he walked in was the mess. instant ramen bowls were scattered everywhere, empty coke cans and dirty napkins were all over the floor, and there you were, in the eye of the hurricane. the second thing he noticed was that there was no homecooked meal.

surprised, he walks into the dining room to see you, furiously typing away at your laptop with four different books surrounding you. you hear his footsteps and look up.

“hey baby! how was practice?” you ask with a smile

atsumu grunts in reply and gestures toward the kitchen, “so.. what’s for dinner babe?”

your eyes widen, “oh shoot! i’m sorry, i was so busy studying for this final that i forgot to cook. do you mind-“ you stop when you see him roll his eyes and head out.

“um, where are you going? you just got home?” you ask, following him.

“out. i have to get food somehow” he replies, “especially because my useless s/o can’t cook a goddamn meal for me” he mutters under his breath

you stop in shock because did he really just say that?

“i’m sorry, i don’t think i heard you right.” you start but he interrupts you

“i said, i have to go get food because someone is too busy to cook a goddamn meal. what do you even do anyways- well, besides spend my money? the least you can do is cook for me, god.” he finally turns to look at you but he feels his heart stop at the look on your face.

not wanting to escalate the situation any further, you try to calm him down, “tsum, hey, i’m sorry i forgot to cook okay? this is my last final before the year ends and i just can’t afford to fail it, so i’ve been studying all day. if you come back to the kitchen, i’ll make you something, okay?”

“i don’t want to eat your half assed attempt at a meal, y/n. the whole point is that you couldn’t get off your ass for an hour to cook when i make the money, i paid for the apartment, hell, i’m even paying for your school! is it really too much to ask for you to stop being such a burden and cook and clean everyday?” he fumed.

you gape at him, shocked that he would even say that. to hell with not escalating things

“at least i want to do something more with my life than hit balls around and retire at 35” you hiss, “and i do everything in this house! i do the laundry, i clean the bathroom, i cook - i do all the things you refuse to. and do i complain? no. i offered to get a job but you refused.”

you turn around to grab your laptop and your textbooks, “just- just do whatever the hell you want to, atsumu.” and with that you walk out the door.

atsumu’s heart drops when he realizes that you actually left. sure, you’ve had arguments here and there, but you’ve never left. he pulls out his phone to call you when he sees you’ve left yours on the counter. knowing there’s nothing to do but wait at this point, he begins to clean up and calls osamu over.

-

it’s already 3 am when you walk back into your apartment, and you blink multiple times when you open the door. it’s ... clean? you’re sure it was a mess when you left, so how would it be clean? you sigh, too tired to think about it more and walk into the kitchen. your eyes widen at the sight. not only is your favorite food on the stove, but there your boyfriend is, asleep on the dining table. you smile slightly, well that explains things.

“ ‘’mu, hey, wake up babe.” you kiss him lightly and shake him.

he grunts and sits up, “baby! i’m so so sorry for what i said. you are in no way, shape, or form a burden, i have no clue why i said that. today’s practice was just really tiring, but i know i shouldn’t have taken it out on you. just please-” he sighs, “just please don’t leave me again.”

your heart breaks your teary eyed boyfriend. “shh, of course baby. i’ll never leave you again okay?” you say, tugging on his arm, “cmon babe, let’s go to bed, okay?”

“mm okay my love.” he replies and practically pulls you into bed. “i love you, okay?”

“i love you too baby.” you reply

“to the moon and back?” he asks

“yeah, and to infinity and beyond.” you reply, your lack of sleep hitting you hard

“oh, i didn’t know i was dating buzz lightyear”

you let out a loud laugh and just like that you both fall into the same routine, love radiating off both of you in waves.

- sakusa kiyoomi

dating sakusa was,, challenging

it definitely took him a while to get comfortable with you

so you guys have been dating for a couple years now, and at this point he’s def clingy

however there still moments when he reverts to his old self

this just happened to be one of those times

“OUT! AND JUST LIKE THAT, EJP RAIJIN TAKES THE WIN AGAINST THE BLACK JACKALS!”

the stadium is silent before the ejp cheering section erupts in cheers. you stay silent, watching your team below. you watch as sakusa stills, still in disbelief. you make your way down, practically sprinting to your boyfriend.

he sees you on the sideline and makes his way over to you. you put on your biggest smile and attempt to make him feel better.

“you did great, kiyo! you’ll get them next time, yeah?” you beam, knowing how hard he’s been training to beat his cousin

he eyes you warily, not knowing what to say.

usually, sakusa gets pretty clingy after games, so you you move to give him a hug.

“don’t touch me” he barked, jerking away from you. “if you hadn’t been distracting me, we would’ve won.”

you stare at him, refusing to let the tears flow. you both turn when you hear a certain setter yelling at the opposing middle and you sigh.

“um, okay then. i’ll see you at home, yeah?” you ask

sakusa merely nods and makes his way over to his teammates. you look around to see if anyone saw what just happened and you lock eyes with your boyfriend’s cousin, who walks over.

“congrats on the win komori! you guys did so well!” you cheered

“thanks, y/n! and i’m sorry about kiyoomi. i’m sure you know he gets that way sometimes.” he explains

you smile and shake your head, saying that you’re used to it and you both bid your farewells. as you walk out of the stadium, you think back to how your boyfriend, the one person you loved with everything you had in you, utterly embarrassed you in front of his whole team. before you know it, silent tears start streaming down your face. 

you enter your home and immediately rush to the bathroom. you draw yourself a bath and make some dinner while waiting. you assume that kiyoomi wouldn’t be home to have dinner with you anyways- and now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time you had dinner together. after you finish your bath and eat your dinner, you decide to wait up for boyfriend and watch a couple episodes of your favorite show to pass the time. 

-

kiyoomi walks into his apartment at around 1 am, completely and utterly exhausted. he kicks his shoes off and drops his bag on the floor. The rustling rouses you from sleep and you sit up.

“hey kiyo” you say with a yawn, “where’ve you been all night?” 

sakusa ignores you in favor of getting ready for bed and you frown when he brushes past you. 

“kiyo, babe, what’s wrong? you’ve been ignoring me all night and i-” you start but he interrupts you before you can finish. 

“god, just shut up, y/n. can’t you tell i don’t want to talk to you right now? i’ve already had the worst day, i don’t need you making it any worse.” he snaps

"kiyoomi, look, i understand you’re upset but you shouldn’t take it out on me.” you reason, reaching out towards him, “listen, i’m here if you wanna-” 

“i said, do not touch me.” he seethes. “you are so fucking clingy y/n, lord, let me breathe a little.”

with those words, you explode. “you know what, sakusa,” he flinches when he hears his last name come out of your mouth, “i think i have the right to want to spend some time with my boyfriend! i haven’t seen you in god knows how long- you leave before i wake up and i fall asleep in an empty bed. i’ve been working my ass off to get some time off to watch your stupid volleyball game and what do you do? you embarrass me in front of your whole team!”

you sigh, wiping away the tears that continue that continue to fall. “listen, i don’t want to fight right now. i’m going to go stay at a friend’s house for the night, alright? i’ll see you tomorrow” you say, grabbing your purse. “if you’re even home tomorrow,” you add under your breath.

sakusa is in shock. the moment he saw your tears start to spill, he felt an undeniable and unrelenting ache in his chest that only seemed to grow with every work that came out of your mouth. and when the door shut? sakusa fell on his knees, his heart dropping. he truly couldn’t believe he said that to you. now all he had to do was wait till you got home.

-

2:38 pm - you check the time on your phone before pulling out your keys. you hope you made the right move, choosing to come back home while kiyoomi was still at practice. you open the door and the sight causes your eyes to widen.

there, on the couch with your favorite flowers in hand, is your boyfriend. he hears the door open and stands up abruptly.

“y/n, my love, i am so sorry. i truly cannot express how horrible i feel, and i cannot begin to understand how you feel.” he takes a deep breath, seemingly holding back tears. “i- i do love you. i love you more than i’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life. i know i’m not the best at expressing it, but you mean the world to me- no, you are my world. without you, i don’t know what i would do. so please-” his voice cracks, “just, please give me another chance?”

you run towards your boyfriend, practically tackling him. “kiyo, baby, of course. i love you too, you know? you just can’t do that anymore, yeah? you shouldn’t feel like you have the right to embarrass me just because you had a bad day. and please, don’t call me clingy? i know i do stick to you like glue sometimes, but that’s just because i never see you anymore.” you reply.

“that will all change, darling.” he answers sincerely, “i’ll make more time for you, i swear. in fact, i’ll take the week off, how does that sound?” at the sight of your smile, he relaxes.

“that sounds wonderful, yoomi.” you answer

sakusa feels the weight that’s been dragging him down lift and he realizes the effect you have on him- you’re his breath of fresh air. he also realizes how utterly idiotic it was to push away the one person who could make him feel better.

it’s fine, he reasons, he’ll just never make that mistake again. he swears it.

[gyusbambi]

humph; han seojun (pt 2)

 click here for humph masterlist!

part 1, part 3

story: frenemies to enemies to lovers, high school au

synopsis: seojun and you have known each other since kindergarten. you’re neighbors and even attended the same singing and piano classes. despite knowing each other for such a long time, you don’t enjoy spending time with seojun. even though you are aware of his unfairness, you keep spending time with him. when will you finally leave your childhood frenemy?

note: juyeong is reader’s brother and is not related to the lims, jugyeong doesn’t exist in this story. humph! is a story inspired by pentagon's "humph! / 접근금지". originally, this is a seungyeon fanfiction, which i posted on my wattpad. words: 4k

after the encounter, you try your best to avoid han seojun. everytime you spot him walking in the hallways, your feet start moving faster. every so often you won’t allow yourself to put all of your books into your locker and end up carrying the heavy things during the whole day. why does his locker have to be next to yours anyway?

seojun might be academically not the best, but he sure isn’t dumb.

clearly, he notices how you turn around and walk into a complete different classroom whenever he makes an appearance in the same hallway. he also notices how you always walk around with piles of books, never taking the chance to place them into your locker, since his own happens to be next to yours.

one day he spots lee suho helping you with carrying your books. smiling, you thank your friend and hand him over some of them. while heading towards the classroom together, you talk about the upcoming school trip. unfortunately, you’re not quite able to see what’s in front of you since the pile of books cover your sight slightly. yet, as seojun walks past suho, his shoulder hits suho’s which makes the books fall out of his hands with a loud thud. 

quickly, you help suho collect the books on the floor and don’t fail to notice him muttering,

“what’s his problem?” 

_

it’s an entertaining thursday evening as you spend time in the karaoke bar with your classmates. kang soojin, who happens to be suho’s childhood friend, asked you and suho to tag along with them. first, lee suho declined the kind offer but you luckily managed to convince him. 

the noraebang is filled with laughter when taehoon, sua’s boyfriend, sings his lungs out to his favorite song. after your eyes wander from the couple too soojin and then too suho, a smile forms on your face. taehoon’s arm is around suho’s shoulder as they both sing a ballad. you’re happy that suho opens up to others more and you enjoy being able to spend time with these four, feeling like you’re making new friends.

however, it feels a little strange that seojun and chorong aren’t around. you remember how you would go to the karaoke bar every saturday, sometimes it was only seojun and you. secretly, you adored listening to his voice.

suddenly, the notification sound of your phone wakes you up from your short trance. 

juyeong: why is seojun hyung’s bike in front of our house?

it’s a message from your younger brother. why hasn’t seojun picked up his bike yet?

while the others continue singing, you excuse yourself and walk outside in order to call your younger brother. patiently, you walk back and forth, waiting for him to answer the call. you sigh when he doesn’t pick up and are about to dial his number again.

before you can do so, you jump and let out a yelp at a familiar voice,

“y/n?”

it’s han seojun.

frightened you turn around, palm pressed to your heart.

“you scared me!” closing your eyes, you let out a relieved breath.

“you’re here too?” seojun ignores your shocked reaction.

“yes.”

“with whom?”

taken aback, you stay silent for a short moment, not knowing how to respond. clearly, you’re aware that seojun, for some reason, isn’t on good terms with suho. therefore, you wouldn’t want him to start a conflict with the innocent boy right here, at the karaoke bar.

“uh, i’m here with soojin a-”

abruptly you trail off when you spot lee suho himself at the entrance, searching for you while his glance shifts through the place. luckily, seojun’s back is facing the entrance. the boy in front of you waits for you to continue but is caught off guard when you pull him around the corner, before suho can find you.

“what are you doing?” seojun questions with lines forming between his brows.

nervously, you try to come up with an excuse while avoiding his gaze, checking behind his back if suho saw you, 

“your motorcycle-”

“look who we have over here! seojunnie!”

at the sound of lee sungyong and his gang you stop talking and observe an annoyed expression appear on seojun’s face.

when you turn around to face them, they let out surprised laughs,

“y/n, long time no see!”

“why do you have to here.” seojun groan.

soon, you sense that something bad could happen any moment which makes you dart your glance around the area nervously, looking for a possible way out. timidly, you draw your mouth into a straight line before your fingers firmly grip around seojun’s, pulling him away from the others without thinking twice. the young boy seems shocked by your actions as his legs adjust to your pace.

in no time, you find yourself running away from lee sungyong and his gang, your hand still clutched on seojun’s wrist. adrenaline courses through your veins as you pass several stores, pushing people out of your way. to the sound of lee sungyong shouting your names, you keep your breath steady, push harder and run even faster. 

seojun himself forces his legs to push harder, his lungs straining. his breath thickening, he steals a quick glance at you. the wind whips your hair away from your face as you face forwards with an uneasy look. his mind is frantic with thoughts: how is it possible to move this fast?

yet, at this great speed, you can barely see a few feet ahead of you. your feet nearly slip from beneath you when your shoes pound heavily across the ground and mud splashes up your leg. 

noticing this, seojun rapidly takes your hand into his own without slowing down and takes the lead. since the boy is familiar with this dark area, he sprints around the next corner. the shoutings behind you don’t stop, demanding you to stop running. after sprinting for solid minutes, you finally hide behind a wall when seojun finds a way to trick the gangsters.

heart pounding faster than ever, you’re still concerned that they will find you. seojun squats down next to you, his legs tired from all the running. when your surroundings are safe, you swiftly stand up while your breath comes in short gasps. 

claiming you’re tired would be an understatement. you are exhausted. still you feel relieved that you could escape the group of boys.

moments later seojun sighs with annoyance behind you. 

“why did you have to drag me away?” the boy complains before you turn around to face him with a frown on your face.

it’s dark and quiet outside, indicating that it’s probably really late. the air is cold which makes you shiver for a moment. when you wait for him to continue instead of answering, seojun groans, not believing that you seriously don’t understand what he’s trying to point out.

“they’ll think it’s weird of us to run away like cowards. ah, you’re really dumb.”

“i’m dumb?”, you raise your voice with squinted eyes before he can leave,

“you’re the one who believes fish are wet.”

“fish are wet.” the boy slowly turns around to face you again.

“they’re not because they’re surrounded by water. once they get out of-”

“it’s water, y/n!”

it’s not worth arguing with someone as dumb as him.

with a mirthless smile you shake your head,

“you’re the dumb one.”

after that you leave to make your way home, completely forgetting to ask seojun about his motorcycle. the boy himself watches you walk away with a little worry. shouldn’t he walk you home at this time? ah, never mind. 

and so he walks home by himself, not used to the fact that his motorcycle is away from him.

_

the next day in school seems like a regular one. fortunately, you were able to get enough sleep this time. thankfully, seojun’s motorcycle was no longer parked in front of your house this morning. not expecting anything spectacular to happen, you enter the classroom with several books in your arms, like always. however, as soon as some of your classmates notice you, they walk to your seat with widen eyes.

“y/n! where were you last night?”, soojin asks you with a calm tone.

sua hits your shoulder playfully and whines, “do you know how worried we were?!”

oh, no. you completely forgot to contact them after your small adventure with han seojun.

“poor suho looked everywhere for you.”, taehoon pouts, his glance darting to suho, who was sitting on his seat peacefully.

after hearing taehoon’s words, you turn your head to the innocent boy with regret written on your face,

“i’m so sorry.”

“don’t worry, y/n. we’re glad you’re okay.” suho smiles at you as the others agree.

the day passes normally, like you predicted, until lunch break. 

considering kim chorong is nowhere to be seen, and you’re trying to stay away from han seojun, you sit next to you other friends during lunch. the same people from the karaoke bar talk about their plans after school, when suddenly everyone looks up to the sight of han seojun’s. his loud steps and irritated expression catches all the attention in the canteen.

however, you feel concerned when you’re approached by him, your heart beating a little faster.

“yah, y/l/n y/n.” 

you gulp when he carefully talks in a controlled voice, glaring at you through his cat like eyes,

“come out.”

the whole lunch room gasps with surprise at his statement, anticipating on what will happen next. just when he grabs your arm to drag you out of the room, lee suho steps between you both, slapping seojun’s grip away from your arm,

“what do you think you’re doing?”, he speaks with a low voice.

“you better stay out of this.”

han seojun hisses and holds on your uniform this time, pulling you away from the others.

your head is filled with endless questions when you’re forced to follow him out. what have you done wrong? the corridor is empty and silent as the boy in front of you pounds his hand on the wall behind you, leaving only a small gap between your faces. your back is pressed against the cold wall. 

blown away by the sudden closeness you swallow dryly, unable to wet your parched throat. his sudden change in mood slightly intimates you.

“you think you can piss me off easily?”

you’re taken aback when he snaps.

“wh-what are you talking about?” nervously, you stammer while excessively blinking.

after that, seojun laughs with edge, eyes leaving yours for a moment to remain his calm. why are you pretending to not know? seconds later he bends down to your height, now even closer than before. eyes looking deeply into yours, he tries to read you. yet, the only thing he’s able to see is your confusion.

“do you believe giving my keys to that bastard is funny?”

“i have no clue what you’re talking about.” 

luckily, the worry in you melts down a little but you’re still confused.

“you’re really starting to get on my nerves now. this morning lee sungyong came to me with these, and my damaged bike.”

frustrated, seojun takes his keys out of his jacket-pocket and holds them up for you too see. a line forms between your brows when you stare at the keys, waiting for him to continue,

“and what do i have to do with that?”

“are you kidding me?! you’re the person who had my keys the whole time!” seojun hisses, his voice raising which causes you to flinch lightly,

“my bike was parked in front of your house, remember? you gave my keys to that bastard!”

“i didn’t have your keys!” finally you defend yourself, slowly getting annoyed by his behavior.

“you did, i gave them to you last week!”

seojun’s face is still insanely close to yours.

“you did, but i gave them back to you.” you look into his eyes with confusion.

“what?” seojun’s expression reflects your own.

“i-i put them into your pocket. didn’t you notice?”

oh no. he absolutely didn’t.

“when did you do that?”

“the day after you gave them to me. i thought you would notice.” you mumble the last part quietly, suddenly feeling like it’s your fault.

precisely, you remember how you put seojun’s keys back in his jacket, which was hanging on his seat when he wasn’t around. taking the opportunity, you decided to quickly put them in there without having to face seojun for it, since you weren’t on good terms. 

all this time you wondered why the boy wouldn’t pick up his bike. it was standing there whole time, which made you believe that maybe he truly wanted to quit riding his motorcycle.

however, it turns out that he never noticed. how did the others find his keys, though? was it your fault? perhaps you should have simply handed them to him personally instead of being stubborn.

seojun sighs with frustration and runs his hand through his hair,

“how did they get them then?”

suddenly it all clicks. everything makes sense when you remember every detail from last night. with unease your eyes widen,

“the jacket you wore last night... it was the navy one, right?”

he thinks for a moment before nodding, waiting for you to continue.

“i put the keys in that one. maybe it slipped out while we were running?”

you glance around, not focusing on anything as you try to avoid his eyes. this doesn’t feel good at all.

a momentary look of discomfort crosses seojun’s face. he realizes that you’re possibly right and that he shouldn’t have accused you to do something like that. the fact that he already messed up by telling suho to stay away from you makes everything even worse. he feels guilty when he catches you looking around nervously. it’s not your fault.

right when he’s about to form words, two students run past him which causes him to stumble over his feet in shock. on the spur of the moment, his body is pressed on yours. at the sudden contact, you let out a small gasp when you notice that you’re stuck between him and the wall. one of his palms is still pressed against the wall behind you, while the other one holds on your shoulder to steady himself.

both of you look up at the same time, embarrassed by his sudden actions. when your eyes meet, your heart pounds against your ribs as if trying to reach thousand beats. it’s so intense that you internally pray for him not to hear it. his face is only a few centimetres away from yours which makes you freeze on spot. somehow you feel his breath on your cheek and you think you’re about to lose it. 

why are you so nervous suddenly?

why does his gaze make your heart beat so fast?

carefully, you study seojun’s face. his dark hair partly falls over his forehead, his eyes now relaxed, cheeks tinted a bright shade of pink.

in fact, seojun is blushing profusely. just like you, he’s taken aback by the closeness and can’t help but gaze into your eyes deeply. he too, feels strangely nervous, a little too nervous if truth be told.

after what seems like seconds, you can’t stand it anymore and forcefully hit his forehead with your head, which makes him stumble backwards.

probing the pained area, seojun winces, “what the hell?!”

“i-i told you i didn’t give them your keys!”, you decide to come up with that instead of showing how the boy effected you so easily,

“you always put the blame on me.” after mumbling that you rush back to the canteen in super speed, hoping for your poor heart to calm down.

seojun only watches you sprint away, unaware of how he made you feel. rubbing his forehead painfully, he shakes his head in order to get rid of his thoughts.

there’s no way. i should probably just see a doctor.

_

time passes quickly and finally the important day has come: the school trip. everyone from your grade was talking about the upcoming event the whole time, planing several games and activities. for you it seems nice too but since you’re avoiding seojun, which also automatically makes it harder to see chorong, you worry how you’re going to spend the whole time on your own. it’s a bummer that lee suho refused to join the trip. certainly, you attempted to convince your friend but unsuccessful. 

as soon as you arrive at the school gates, where everyone is already waiting with their suitcases, you feel uneasy. nearing the others, you concern about the fact that you’ll probably have to sit alone in the bus. yet, when you finally approach the others you spot suho standing next to soojin, sua and taehoon. instantly, a smile appears on your face and you greet them, adding that you’re happy for suho to join them. glancing around, it doesn’t take you long to see han seojun next to kim chorong. without looking at them for too long, you focus back on your other friend group with little uncertainty. 

one by one, students enter the bus after putting their suitcases into the bus trunk. for some reason you happen to be the last person to enter the bus. after putting your luggage into the trunk, you’re ready to go inside. yet, out of nowhere chorong appears in front of you with puppy eyes, begging for you to pack his snacks into your backpack, since his own is already full. not thinking about it too much, you agree and start placing them into your bag. chorong smiles with satisfaction and thanks you before his eyes check behind him. he winks at sua and gives her a sign after making sure you’re not paying attention to him.

sua then pushes her boyfriend and soojin inside when nobody is left, leaving chorong and you alone. eventually you manage to push in all the snacks into your bag. you’re surprised when you see that everyone is already in the bus and follow chorong inside as well. 

as soon as you enter, suho finds your eyes and waves at you, indicating that he saved you a seat next to him. happily, you nod and wait for the others in front of you to take their seats. 

you fail to notice chorong’s eyes widen when he stops in front of you, not allowing you to sit next to lee suho. sua understands the situation and slightly pushes kang soojin towards the empty seat next to suho. 

oh, well.

both of your friends exchange surprised looks. however, seconds later soojin smiles at the boy next to him, starting a conversation.

as a matter of fact, you feel upset. disappointed, you move on, eyes not leaving chorong’s back. who are you going to sit next to now? 

when the boy in front eventually arrives at the very back, you’re concerned. surprisingly, kim chorong takes the seat behind han seojun, leaving the last seat, which was next to seojun, for you.

han seojun doesn’t bother looking up, as he’s focused on his phone. clearing your throat, you request,

“chorong-ah, change seats with me.” 

“nah, i like this seat.” stubbornly, he crosses his arms across his chest, head leaning against the window with closed eyes.

the short conversation catches seojun’s attention and he looks up with curiosity. after taking a look at the filled seats his eyes land and you. he’s surprised when he notices that you have to take seat next to him.

letting out a quiet sigh, you give chorong one last glare before sitting next to seojun. this is either going to be really awkward or provoking.

of course, once again you don’t notice chorong peeking at the both of you before giving sua and taehoon a thumbs up, content that their plan worked successfully.

“are you sure this is a good idea?” taehoon whispers to his girlfriend,

“they look like they’ll throw hands at each other any moment.”

“ ah, don’t worry. they’ll make up sooner than you think.” sua takes a quick glimpse of you plugging in your earpods without exchanging any words with the boy next to you.

but sua was wrong.

half an hour already passes and you still haven’t spoken any word. although, there‘s a small desire of talking to you in seojun, he can‘t make himself form the right words. 

right when chorong is about to lose hope and fall asleep, something finally happens.

feeling tired from all the packing last night, you sense your eyelids getting heavier and you’re struggling to keep them open. nonetheless, you’re no longer able to do so and you fall asleep instantly.

out of the blue seojun feels your head resting on his shoulder. the boy is dumbstruck when his eyes widen, holding in his breath for a moment. his body shuts down and he doesn’t know how to react when his posture stiffens. besides that, he feels the skin on his shoulder tingle. 

seojun almost curses under his breath when his heart races once again. this time, there’s a fluttering in his stomach as well, causing him to go speechless. from the corner of his eye, he observes your expression. a slight frown forms on your face, hair covering parts of it, lips in a small pout. 

no matter what you do, you look so effortlessly... good. it doesn’t make a difference to him if you’re annoyed, confused, happy or simply tired. he always notices himself looking at you the same way, with adoring eyes. attempting to ignore it, he chose to tease you, not daring to ever show you. 

he knew he went to far and feels stupid for his actions. yet, why doesn’t he just apologize? perhaps he doesn’t want to accept the fact that you mean much more to him. perhaps he’s afraid he’ll never mean more to you.

still asleep, you unknowingly move your head closer to seojun’s chest, feeling more comfortable this way. after that, he feels your arm wrap around his torso, almost snuggling him.

the boy’s heart melts at the sight of you. although his heart feels like exploding, he doesn’t want to admit that he kinda enjoys the skin-ship with his you. right when he’s about to run his hand through your hair, the sound of a camera catches his attention.

he looks up to find sua taking a polaroid picture, chorong awing at the sight of his two friends sharing a moment.

“aw, you guys are so cute!” sua jumps up and down, while handing seojun the polaroid picture.

suddenly seojun gets aware of his surroundings and the situation he finds himself in. he blinks a few times before moving his shoulder purposely while coughing, making your head fall down in a swift move.

before it hits his lap, you open your eyes and rub them with a displeased expression,

“what happened?”, you ask with a low voice, completely clueless. 

“why- why do you fall asleep on my shoulder? that’s so uncomfortable. get a pillow or something!”

seojun stammers in the beginning, eyes not able to meet your tired ones. your friends sigh with annoyance and return to their seats, disappointed by seojun’s change in mood.

“sorry.” after rubbing your eyes, you steal a short glance at seojun. you’re slightly embarrassed and fix your hair while sitting up properly.

the boy only shrugs, quickly hiding the polaroid in the pocket inside of his jacket before you can see it.

seemingly, this trip is not going to be easy for han seojun.

little does he know, this was only the beginning of cupid chorong’s plan.

_

to be continued...

[notnctu]

haechan: the cocky | vol 1

━ welcome home to housemating smut series :) 

☆ click the link above to read background info about this housemate!

☆ GENRE: smut, pwp ☆ DETAILS: fem!reader, college!au, housemate!au ☆ WARNINGS: oral, voyeurism, explicit language ☆ WC: 2,659 ☆ SYNOPSIS: on this sunny afternoon, you’re home alone while everyone else is in class... or so you thought. as haechan’s name spills from your lustful mouth, he mindlessly comes in thinking that you’re calling for him. instead, he walks in to see you fingers deep and in need of some assistance, again.

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: happy halloween everyone!! pls read the background info before proceeding with the fic!! absolutely pwp, there is no real plot here besides smut LOL and yes there will be a part two ! maybe multiple parts idk yet lol depends on my story building 

Tossing your backpack into the corner of your room, you pounce on your bed as quickly as possible. There was something about Haechan’s outfit choice today: baggy relaxed pants and an oversized plain white tshirt that only he could pull off. Something about his cool, carefree attitude riles up an inexplicable part of you. And though you didn’t have much time to drool over his incredibly impressive outfit before dashing for your 10 AM, it is all that’s been running through your head.

And truthfully if you had been caught staring for even a millisecond, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from him. You’ve seen this guy go two days straight sitting in his boxers and wrinkled old tee as he yells profanities at his computer monitor. Yet, in some egotistical world, Haechan still manages to be the cockiest person in the whole house.

Haechan has pulled quite a fair share of girls, but nothing in comparison to Jaehyun or Johnny. The reason behind his sly smirks and obvious traveling eyes could possibly be that he’s pulled you, quite a number of times.

Haechan never really peaked your interest until he became the one you spent the most time alone with. He is not the type to boast about his sexual encounters, so you really had to squeeze it out of him. Long talks of his cunnilingus tactics had you wet by the end of it all, not expecting that this gamer boy had such an eager passion for seeing girls squirm from his tongue.

Eager and strong enough passion to ask if he could get a taste of you, then proceeded to bring up all the moments that he has passed by your room to see you sprawled across your bed naked and rubbing one out. You had a poor habit of not closing your door all the way.

However strangely enough, you didn’t feel embarrassed that Haechan was the one who saw you. In fact, if anyone in the house did catch you masturbating, you’d hope it was him. Your relationship is comfortable to the point of seeing the worst sides of each other, you could be your true self around him because he wasn’t some playboy to impress. He is and always will be, Lee Haechan, the boy that sucks at arm wrestling.

So as you check your housemates’ locations and thinking that the coast is clear, you begin to peel off your bottoms and panties. Every naughty thought of Haechan rolls into your lustful mind. Tugging at his fluffy hair. His plushy tongue against your clit. His light spanks against your ass. His needy hands gripping your thighs. His low throaty moans.

You get into your favorite position --- ass up, on your knees and legs spread open, with your face buried in a pillow. Your hand tries to mimic his touch: gently teasing your nipples, trailing down your stomach until you reach your sensitive bud. Your fingers gather your slick and automatically, Haechan’s name escapes your lips. Closing your eyes, you recall all the times he’s eaten you out until you’ve seen stars.

Now if Haechan wasn’t so forgetful, he wouldn’t have to drive all the way back home to grab his notebook for lecture. When the boy enters the house, he takes note of your scattered shoes at the door and the faint sound of your voice. Curiously, he walks up the stairs to the rooms and hears you calling for him and concludes that you probably heard him come home.

When he approaches your slightly opened door, he sees an image that immediately halts him in his tracks. Through the rather large slit, he has the clearest view of your dripping pussy and quick fingers rubbing at your clit. And he registers your calls for moans. You were moaning his name, not calling for him.

He glances around at the other open rooms to check if anyone else is home, but that is probably why you thought it would be completely fine to not close your door, again. When he returns to the incredibly sexy scene of you masturbating to the thought of him, you’re so lost in your own pleasure that you don’t even hear his heavy breathing.

A tent forms in his pants as he feels all his blood rushing to his shaft. He’s beyond turned on, like come on, it’s him you’re thinking about. This does nothing, but fuel his already large ego. Haechan enters your room and clears his throat, “you should really learn to close your door, baby.” 

Your momentum breaks at the sheer fear of someone else’s voice. Panic settles and the first thing you see when you look up is Haechan’s small smirk. He leans against the frame of your door, arms crossed and eyes never leaving your figure.

“Why are you home?!” You throw a pillow at him, very well annoyed at his presence and for ruining your private time. Sitting up on your knees, you try covering your lower half with your blanket. Haechan is quick to stop you, while simultaneously shutting your bedroom door.

“I forgot my notebook.” He leans in, lips inches away from yours and his hand pulling the sheets off your body. “I have twenty minutes to spare, so let’s make this quick, mmh? Seems like you’re in need of my assistance... again.” His eyes are dark, and the sunlight that seeps through your shades shines so beautifully against his melanin. The faint smell of his cologne messes with your mind and god, you want him so bad and you hate that he can tell.

“Get back into your previous position and show me how you touch yourself.” He leaves a quick peck on the corners of your lips before standing at the end of your bed. 

“What if I don’t want to?” You’re not usually bratty with other partners, but Haechan’s assertiveness and overall aura draws it out of you so naturally. 

He pokes his tongue at the inside of his mouth, protruding his cheek and tilts his head at your bratty attitude. Staring you down with hungry eyes and a raised eyebrow, he says in a serious tone, “no time for games right now. You want me or not?” 

“Yes, please.” You nod with urgency once you realize that Haechan still had class to get to. Turning back around, you rest comfortably on your elbows with your knees firm on the mattress. Your hand travels down to circle your clit again, resuming your previous lustful actions before Haechan interrupted you.

Every jolt runs down your legs as a pumping surge of electricity, all the way down to your toes. Haechan palms himself watching you get back into the mood, biting his bottom lip at the delicious sight of your glistening, pretty pussy on display for him. It doesn’t take much before he hurries to get under you and in between your legs.

He lays back flat on the bed as you hover over him, your hand still rubbing intensively at your bud and your juices collecting in your palm. Taking your wrist, he guides your wet fingers into his mouth. You moan knowing your fingers are being cleaned by Haechan, him sucking your taste off of you. 

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He groans, bringing your hips closer to his face. Without another second of hesitation, he licks a long strip across your clit. 

“Hyuck..” It has been established between the two of you that you have special rights to use his government name. He loves how hot it sounds coming from you, like it is meant to be spoken only by you. “..I’m.. already.. going to burst.”

He kisses your inner thighs, then encapsulates your bud in his mouth. Your legs give out at the mind blowing pleasure that comes with Haechan’s plushy licks. His tongue doesn’t leave your clit for more than a second, suckling and rubbing it like his life depended on it. 

When you peer down at him, his face is entirely pressed up against your body: nose digging into your skin and mouth latching on for a taste. He gives your ass a little spank, then grabbing a handful to squeeze. The tinge of pain turns into pleasure as the feeling of static runs throughout your lower half. 

Haechan tries to free himself from his pants, growing painfully hard that it began to feel strained. One hand unzips and tugs down hastily at his bottoms, his cock springing up and slapping against his stomach. He lifts his shirt up as far as it can go, not once breaking his attention on making you feel good.

You yelp when his two fingers enter your hole abruptly, gathering enough of your slick to cover his own dick. With your wetness, he strokes his tip with his thumb and the vibrations from his moans sends shivers down your spine. But Haechan is more than skilled at multitasking, jerking himself off while he eats you out.

“Fuck, are you touching yourself?” Your head turns enough to see movement in your peripheral vision. You can infer two things: Haechan is half naked and fucking his hand so fast that it shakes the bed a bit.

“Of course I am. You’re fucking hot, baby.” He only pulls away briefly to speak, his soft tongue flicking rapidly harder against you now. Haechan knows you’re close, without you needing to say much. Your toes curl at the intensity, your moans become louder, and you’re gripping onto his hair as tightly as possible.

The peak of your mountain is at the tip of your lips, your legs are about to give out at any moment, but Haechan is showing no mercy to slow down. “Just like that, shit.” Your hips mindlessly grind with his fast-paced rhythm.

Haechan can feel his own release coming just as quick, his own grip growing tighter around his shaft as his hips have no caution to stop. “Give it to me, (Y/N).” His low grunts solely push you to your edge, as you announce your orgasm. 

Your shaking legs uncontrollably twitch around his head as the euphoric feeling fills your blood stream. Like a knot coming undone, it’s the most rewarding feeling you’ve ever felt. You try to catch your breath as Haechan unlatches from your swollen clit, and his moans replace yours. 

“(Y/N),” He barely manages to speak and you look down in between your legs to see him biting his bottom lip hard and eyes closed. “--I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk... when I get back..” and with that, he cums all over his lower stomach, short strings of white landing across his body.

You roll off of him, grabbing tissues from your nightstand to clean him up. “Are you still going to make it?” A hoarse laugh rumbles your chest as Haechan remembers the lecture he has to attend.

“I’ll just show up late.” Wiping the last bit off of him, he gets up to hurriedly zip himself up. “Why are you suddenly so needy?” He jokes, partially. A smug grin appears reminding you of his haughty personality. 

You scoff at his remark, “I am more than capable of taking care of myself.” 

“Yeah, but why do that when I clearly give you the best orgasms of your life.” He shrugs, his tone being quite matter of fact. He chuckles mischievously at your displeased expression, running out your room before you can chase him out.

“Okay, I’m leaving!” He yells from the hall, hurrying down the stairs to catch the last half of his lecture. 

“Bye, thank you... I guess..” You pull your panties up, your voice trailing off when you step out of your room to the top of the stairs to watch him leave.

He stops to peer up at your obvious fucked out appearance, admiring you all in your glory. “Any time, baby. What are housemates for?” Haechan winks flirtatiously before he shuts the front door.

The rhetorical question repeats in your head, what are housemates for? 

As everyone floods back home later in the day, you and Haechan act as if nothing happened. That’s the thing about you two, Haechan never really feels the need to brag to the others, only if provoked. 

You two can live in this house with the other three not expecting a single thing, not knowing that there is courage behind Haechan’s bold statements. Not even the way Haechan stares at you sometimes can give anything away. This man is too slick, too quick on his feet to ever be caught.

“You make it to all your classes today, Haechan?” Johnny asks as the three of you devour the dinner Doyoung made, Jaemin once again not being home. 

“Yes, dad.” Haechan answers sarcastically and stuffs his mouth full of dinner rolls. “I had a midterm that I totally aced.” He smiles proudly, but your ears catch onto the first half of his sentence and immediate guilt settles.

“You had a midterm?” The tone of your question raises a few eyebrows at the table, the rest of the boys wondering why you sounded so worried.

Nevertheless, Haechan doesn’t lose his cool. He simply bids you his sugary sweet smile and says, “not for that one.” 

“No flirty eyes at the table.” Doyoung scowls as Haechan’s corner lip twitches into another infamous smirk. He somewhat enjoys the thrill of almost getting caught, you make it all too easy for the others to find out.

You gulp your food harshly and shy away from Haechan’s dark gaze, not knowing the right words to recover your slip up. Jaehyun acknowledges the confusion in the room, laughing nervously at your sudden bashfulness, “why did (Y/N) sound so worried?” 

Your food gets stuck in your throat, waiting to hear what Haechan has to say to your nosy housemates. “I had to come home to grab my notebook and missed the beginning of class. She’s just looking out for me, it’s cute.” 

And your eyes make the most dramatic roll, “I should’ve just let you to suffer the consequences.” 

“But you’re a good girl.” Haechan barely lets you finish, his sharp-witted tongue almost cutting you off.

“(Y/N) is the best girl.” Johnny ruffles your hair and picks up your chin, being oblivious to the sexual tension between you and Haechan. “Now, did my best girl go to all her classes today?” 

You push his large hand off of you, grumbling lowly, “yes, Johnny.” Mindful to not say dad as it would steer him with too much satisfaction, “unlike you delinquents, I actually go to class and stay for the whole thing.”

“I do too.” Doyoung bickers.

In response, you pinch his cheek harshly. “I know and I’m always proud of you, my bunny.” 

Haechan clears his throat obnoxiously, “I’m going to play games, hop on when you all are done.” He takes a few more dinner rolls as he starts heading up the stairs with his plate of food.

“Can’t, I have someone coming over in a few.” Jaehyun stuffs his cheeks full of deliciousness.

“Me too.” Johnny chimes and you’re repulsed that more than half of the house is going to be having sex at the same time. 

“In that case, that is my cue to leave and put on noise canceling headphones.” Doyoung gathers his plate to rush out of the scene. 

Jaehyun and Johnny finish their dinners at an impressive speed, “don’t be too loud, Haechan!” Johnny loudly proclaims and though you can’t see Haechan’s face, you can imagine his devilish smile through the cadence of his voice.

“Oh, trust me. I won’t be the loud one tonight.” Your phone lights up from incoming texts. As your eyes register the messages, you almost choke on your food at the implications. 

housemate haechan: come to my room when you’re done

housemate haechan: and don’t expect to walk tomorrow:) 

And you’re finishing your dinner as fast as everyone else is, shamefully excited to make your way upstairs. 

What are housemates for?

[live-the-fangirl-life]

The Last One

The Court - Throne of Glass x FRIENDS - Fic Series

S10, E17/18 : Rowan, after realizing he's still in love with Aelin, chases her down, refusing to let her go. Meanwhile, Elide and Lorcan welcome their baby...or babies, into the world.

Episode chosen for Rowaelin Month 2021. Day 12: Delayed Love Confession

Fic Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Birth

7860 words

*******

Rowan woke up to the bed shifting. He cracked an eye open, still cloudy with sleep, and watched Aelin sit on the opposite edge while she pulled her shirt over her head, concealing the bare expanse of her back.

“Hey.” He croaked, voice still rough.

She turned and gave him a soft smile, whispering, “Go back to sleep, I have to go home.”

Rowan wanted nothing more than for Aelin to never leave his bed, but he knew she had things to do so instead he said, “Oh, okay.” He reached a hand across the sheets and grabbed hers, “Last night was amazing.”

She finished putting on one of her shoes and looked back at him with that same soft smile, “It really was.”

Rowan tried to read the emotions that flashed across her face but then she was standing and bending over to draw him into one last kiss. Her palm rested on his cheek while his gently cupped the back of her head before they pulled away. Rowan kept his eyes on Aelin as she left his room and he didn’t fall back onto his pillow until he heard the sound of his apartment door clicking shut behind her.

***

Elide was scared. Scratch that—terrified. Elide was terrified, but she kept her calm as best as she could while she held Asterin’s hand.

Elide had thanked all the gods she could name for Asterin coming into her and Lorcan’s lives. After getting married and enjoying the first few months of bliss, she and Lorcan decided to try having a baby, but after months of negative pregnancy tests and too many doctors visits, they were told it likely would never happen for them. Devastated, they thought through their options and settled on adoption. But even then, they knew it would take some time.

Elide remembered some afternoons spending hours sitting by the phone desperately hoping it would ring and be someone from the adoption agency to tell them they’d been picked. When they’d finally gotten the call and met Asterin, a young woman who was looking for the perfect parents for her baby, they knew it was meant to be.

Now, standing in the delivery room, Elide held Asterin’s hand as the woman powered through another contraction.

“Breathe, breathe, breathe,” Elide coached encouragingly, “good.”

“Are you fully taking over, or do I get to say breathe?” Lorcan asked as he walked to Elide’s side beside the bed.

She scoffed and tilted her head to meet his eyes. “No. Last time, you said it like a sociopath, and it creeped her out.” She turned back towards Asterin who looked tired, “Can I get you anything? Ice chips?”

“No,” Asterin shook her head, “I’m okay.”

Elide nodded and smiled, “Alright, I’ll be right back.”

As she started to walk out of the room, Lorcan’s hand shot out and gripped her elbow, stopping her.

“Where are you going?” He asked. She could almost detect a hint of nerves as he spoke.

Elide raised a brow, “To the bathroom.”

Lorcan lowered his voice so that only Elide could hear. “You can't leave me alone with her.”

“What?” She asked incredulously.

Lorcan ran a hand through his long hair, and now she could definitely see nervousness etched across his face. “This is exactly the kind of social situation that I am not comfortable with” he grumbled.

Elide snorted, “What kind of social situation are you comfortable with?”

He leveled a stare at her. “It's just that we've never spent any time, you know, alone together.”

Elide rolled her eyes at her husband, “You’ll be fine,” she took a step and turned back, giving him a small smirk, “No, you won't, but I'll be back in two minutes.”

Lorcan sighed but grumbled okay.

He walked back over to the woman lying in the hospital bed, trying his best to seem calm, but by the grimace she shot him, he wasn't doing a very good job.

“So, uh,” He grasped for something to say, “any plans for the summer?”

“I don't know, maybe travel? I wanna do some flying again.”

Lorcan hummed, still not sure what to say. If Elide had still been in the room, she’d have laughed at how ridiculous he looked. Standing well above six feet, with his hands fidgeting and swaying on his toes from being so uncomfortable in the moment.

“So, you ever wonder which is worse, you know; going through labor or getting kicked in the nuts?” Lorcan asked the first thing that came to mind and immediately regretted it. He should've just kept his mouth shut.

“What?” Asterin asked, her eyebrows scrunching in disbelief.

“I mean, uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “One of life's great, unanswerable questions. I mean, who knows? Maybe there's something even more painful than those things?” Lorcan cringed and suggested, “like this.”

***

Lysandra walked into Fenrys’ apartment to see him holding two small fuzzy animals.

“Good morning,” She said hesitantly.

“Hey!” Fenrys grinned, lifting up the creatures.

“What's that?” Aedion asked, following Lysandra into the room.

Fenrys grinned, “It's my house-warming present for Elide and Lorcan.”

Lysandra and Aedion shared a look.

“It's a baby chick and duck,” Lysandra said, unnecessarily. “You know they’re living in the suburbs right?”

“Uh-huh,” Fenrys nodded, “And I named them Chick Jr. and Duck Jr.”

Aedion snorted, “I didn’t see that coming.”

“Yeah, I figure they'll love it at the new house, you know?” Fenrys set the animals down, “It has that big backyard. And then, when they get old, they can go to that special farm that Lorcan took the other chick and duck to.”

Lysandra raised a brow at Fenrys and hummed, unable to say what she actually wanted to say.

Aedion barely held in a grin as he nodded sagely to Lysandra and mocked, “Yeah. It's a shame people can't visit there.”

Fenrys was cut off as Rowan showed up and joined them in the apartment,

“Guess what?” Lysandra whirled on Rowan, smiling, “we’re almost all aunties and uncles!”

“What?” Rowan asked, confused.

“Yeah,” Fenrys said, “Asterin went into labor last night. Elide and Lorcan are at the hospital right now!”

“Oh, my gods.” Rowan grinned at the thought of a massive Lorcan holding a tiny baby. He shook his head, glancing around, “Is Aelin here?”

Fenrys glanced towards Aelin’s room, “Uh, I think she's still asleep. Hey, how did it go with you guys last night? She seemed pretty pissed at you.”

Rowan couldn’t—wouldn’t—suppress his smile as he thought about the night before. Being with Aelin again was better than he remembered, and he cursed himself for all the time they’d missed out on.

“Yeah, we, uh, we worked things out.”

Lysandra’s eyes widened as she watched him, “What's that smile? Did something happen with you two?”

Rowan chuckled, “Hey, I'm not one to kiss and tell,” then he muttered, “but I'm also not one to have sex and shut up.”

Apparentally, his last words weren't as quiet as he thought.

Aedion groaned, wincing “Dude, that's my cousin.”

Rowan ignored Aedion as Fernys laughed, “Oh my gods, You and Aelin?”

“I know, it's great.” Rowan didn't think his grin could get any wider.

Lysandra hugged him, squealing, “So what does that mean? Are you guys getting back together?”

“I…” He trailed off, frowning. They hadn’t actually talked about it before Aelin had left earlier that morning. “I don't know. We didn't really get to talk about it.”

“But do you wanna get back together?” She pushed.

Rowan didn’t hesitate as he said with certainty, “Yeah, I do. it just felt so right. When I was holding her, I mean, I never wanted to let her go. I want to be together.”

Lysandra, Aedion, and Ferys all had matching smiles as they listened to Rowan.

Then Fenrys spoke up and Rowan felt himself deflate.

“So is she still going to Paris?” He asked, still holding the small animals.

Rowan had been so caught up in the happiness of last night and that morning that he’d completely forgot the reason why he and Aelin had been so emotionally worked up their argument caused the tension to finally snap, leading them to spend the night together.

Aelin had been offered an amazing job. A perfect job. Perfect, except for the fact that it was in Paris and not New York

She'd had said goodbye to each of their friends. Except him. She’d cried and laughed and reminisced with all of them. Except for Rowan.

He’d been so upset, so angry. How could Aelin not have anything to say to him, after all these years, after all they’d been through?

When he’d confronted her, she’d told him, devastated, “If you think I didn't say goodbye to you because you don't mean as much to me as everybody else, you're wrong. It's because you mean more to me.”

He’d stopped her, not needing to hear anymore as he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in for a searing kiss. She’d been shocked, unprepared for Rowan’s actions. She’d stepped away, searching his face, before pulling him towards her and kissing him again.

Gods, how could he have forgotten that she was leaving?

“Wow, I hadn't thought of that. I hope not.” Rowan didn't know how he would deal with Aelin leaving now. He’d just realized that he still loved her, and now he might lose her. But how could he expect her, or ask her, to stay? What kind of person would that make him? A desperate one? A man in love? Or an overreaching, entitled one who thought he could step in the way of one of the best opportunities she'd ever been given?

He would have to talk to her before he spiraled any further.

“Oh, this is so great!” Lysandra exclaimed, unaware of Rowan’s churning thoughts, “You guys might get back together, Elide and Lorcan are getting their baby, and there are chicks and ducks in the world again!

They all looked towards the sound of a door opening to see Aelin emerge from her room.

“Good morning,” She smiled at them and ignored the pointed looks and wiggling eyebrows of her friends.

“Hey,” Rowan smiled at her.

She walked up to him and greeted him quietly, “Hey.”

“How’d you sleep?”

She smiled, “Good, you?”

He matched her grin, “Good.”

Fenrys snorted, “I bet you did!”

Aelin flipped him off, shooing him, Lysandra, and Aedion away. Once they’d left, Rowan cupped her face and swooped down to kiss her. It felt like coming home.

When they broke apart, they both wore soft smiles.

“Last night was wonderful,” Aelin told him, rubbing a hand down his arm.

“Yeah, it was.”

She kept her eyes on his as she told him, “I woke up today with the biggest smile on my face.”

He tried to keep the satisfaction off his face but failed and she huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes before softening her features again.

“I know, me too,” Rowan told her, moving one thumb to brush along her cheek. “It was...you know, it was like one of those things you think is never gonna happen, and then it does, and it's everything you want it to be.”

She nodded, “I know,” Aelin leaned up to press another soft kiss to his lips before pulling him into a hug to say into his ear, “it was just the perfect way to say goodbye.”

In that moment, at her words, Rowan felt like his heart shattered into a million little pieces.

***

The hospital room buzzed with excitement.

“It's just a little bit more, honey.” Elide held Asterin’s hand as the young woman pushed again.

She sobbed, more in frustration than anything else “Help me! This hurts!”

Lorcan stood a step back and asked, “Is it really that bad?”

Both women glared at him with a ferocity that made him want to be swallowed up by a hole in the ground.

“Yeah,” Asterin answered through gritted teeth, “I think it's time to kick you in the nuts and see which is worse!”

Elide sighed as she was reminded of the words Lorcan reluctantly relayed to her earlier. She looked back at him, “No tact.”

The doctor cleared his throat, drawing all their attention towards him, “The baby's head is crowning.”

“Oh my God!” Elide cried, walking around to see, “That is the most beautiful top of a head I have ever seen! Lorcan, you have to see this!”

Lorcan had never looked more uncomfortable. “I'm okay.”

Elide whirled on him, “Lorcan, you don't wanna miss this. This is the birth of your child!”

His child. The words rang through him and sparked some sense of resolve. He shook himself of his discomfort, outwardly at least, and stepped up behind Elide to see what she was seeing.

“Wow.” He murmured reverently, “Disgusting.”

Elide scoffed but Loracn gripped her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

“Here we go,” The doctor said, glancing back up at Asterin “Start pushing.”

A shill cry broke through the air and Elide and Lorcan watched as the doctor held up a beautiful little baby. When Elide ripped her eyes away from the infant as the nurses cleaned it, she looked up to find Lorcan already staring at her with tears in his eyes. They didn’t have to say anything, they both felt the same overwhelming sense of love.

“It’s a boy.” The doctor said, leaning back and adjusting his gloves.

“A...a boy!” Elide beamed at Lorcan as he stood open-mouthed before showing her the widest smile she’d ever seen on the man.

“A boy.” He breathed.

“Oh, you did it!” Elide went back to Asterin’s head and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She leaned closer to the girl and whispered, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Asterin smiled at them both, “I'm really happy for you guys.”

“How do you feel?” Lorcan asked.

She sighed, “So tired.”

The doctor sat back into position, saying, “Well, you don't have that much time to relax. The other one will be along in a minute.”

The hand Lorcan had been rubbing down Elide’s back froze, as did both of their breathing as they slowly turned to face the doctor with eyebrows up to their hairlines.

“I’m sorry,” Elide said slowly, aware that Lorcan hadn’t resumed breathing yet, “who should be along in a what now?”

The doctor gave them a weird look, “The next baby should be along in a minute.”

“One.” Lorcan finally regained his ability to speak. “One baby. We signed up for one baby.”

“You know it's twins, right?” The doctor asked slowly

Elide laughed hysterically, “Oh, yeah! These are the faces of two people in the know!”

“I…” The doctor trailed off, “I can't believe you didn't know it's twins! This has never happened before.”

“Oh wow,” Loracn snorted incredulously, “That makes me feel so much better.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair.

“Wait,” Elide faced the doctor, “did you know it was twins?”

He nodded slowly, “Yeah, it's here in the paperwork we got from the clinic.”

Elide then spun around to Asterin, “Anybody tell you?”

Asterin furrowed her brows, “I don't think so. Not explicitly.” she insisted. “they did mention something about two heartbeats. But I thought that was just mine and the baby's. They kept saying both heartbeats are really strong, and I thought well, that's good 'cause I'm having a baby.”

Elide let out a shaky breath trying to wrap her mind around what was happening. “This is unbelievable.”

Lorcan gripped Elide’s arm and tugged into the corner of the room. “Can I see you for a second?”

Elide had never in her life seen Lorcan look more unsure of what to do. His hands were shaky as he gripped hers. “What do we do?”

She took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes. “What do you mean what do we do?”

“Twins.” He stated urgently, “Twins!”

Seeing Lorcan so frazzled oddly calmed Elide down. “Lorcan, you’re panicking.”

“I sure as fuck am, join me!”

She cracked a half-smile, “Lorcan, take a breath, it’s going to be okay.”

“Elide, we are not ready to have two babies!” his eyes were still wide in shock and fear.

“That doesn’t matter!” she hissed, grabbing his arms and making him focus on her. “We have waited so long for this. I don't care if it's two babies. I don't care if it's three babies! We are taking them home because they are our children!”

Lorcan’s face softened and she watched as a steady resolve found its way across his face and through his body. They took a breath together and he pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead gently. When he pulled away, he had a small smile reserved only for her. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated, her arms still wrapped around him.

“Okay.”

“Okay!”

“Okay!” he laughed, and this time it wasn’t fear clouding the sound, but joy.

“It looks like we're about ready over here.” the doctor called, and Elide and Lorcan walked back towards Asterin.

When another cry sounded, the doctor lifted the second baby, declaring, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl?” Lorcan asked quietly, a smile growing.

“Indeed.” The doctor replied, passing her to be cleaned up.

Spinning towards Elide, Lorcan said excitedly, “Well now we have two different ones!” then he whirled back to the doctor and put on his stoniest glare, “And that's enough!”

***

Lysandra, Aedion, Fenrys, and Rowan sat in the coffee house, Cadre Coffee, as Rowan told them what Aelin had said earlier.

“And then she hugged me and said it was the perfect way to say goodbye.” Even repeating it now, felt like chewing on broken glass.

“What did you say?” Fenrys pried.

Rowan sputtered, “Nothing. What do you say to that?” What could he say to that?

“Rowan,” Lysandra pleaded, “you've got to tell her how you feel.”

“I can’t do that to her.” He sighed, defeated. “I can’t lay that on her right before she’s supposed to leave.”

“Rowan,” Aedion leaned forward, making sure he held the silver-haired man’s attention, “Aelin doesn't know that you wanna get back together. If she did, she might feel differently. She might not even go.”

“You really think so?” he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Just then, Aelin breezed into the coffee shop.

“Hi, guys!” She waved before walking up the counter.

Rowan watched her a moment. “Alright, you know what? You're right. I should at least tell her how I feel.” He could do that. He had to do that.

"Rowan, wait!" Fenrys called from behind him.

Rowan spun around, "What?"

Fenrys grinned, "Can you get me a muffin?"

Rowan gave him a one-finger response and took a step towards Aelin.

“Aelin?” Nox, the barista who’d worked at the coffee house for as long as any of them could remember, got her attention.

“Yeah?”

“I know you’re leaving tonight, but I just have to tell you. I love you.”

Rowan stood frozen in place, mouth open, as he watched the scene unfold.

“I... I don't know if that changes your plans at all, but I thought you should know.” Nox nodded earnestly.

“Nox, Oh,” She placed a hand on his shoulder, “I love you too. Probably not in the same way, but I do. And, and when I'm in a café, having coffee, I'll think of you.” She kissed his cheek before waving towards the group and leaving the coffee house.

Rowan sat down, meeting the shocked gazes of his friends. “Oh, my gods!”

Lysandra snorted, “Unbelievable!”

"Hey," Fenrys leaned forward, "you know what might help?"

Rowan glared at him and scoffed, "I'm not getting you a muffin!"

***

“We're going to take Asterin to recovery now.” The nurse told Elide and Lorcan as they each held one of their babies.

“Oh wait,” Elide caught Asterin’s hand, “There's something that we want to tell you. We decided to name the girl-baby Asterin.”

She smiled, “Oh, that’s just like my name!”

Elide held in a laugh. It was clear Asterin was either still on some medications or just very, very tired.

“Okay,” the blonde woman said, “I'm gonna go and get some rest. I'm really glad I picked you guys. You're gonna make great parents. Even Lorcan.”

Despite his eye roll, Elide saw the pride and gratitude in Lorcan’s eyes.

“Bye, Asterin.” Elide called as she was pushed out of the delivery room.

“Bye.”

Moving closer to Lorcan, Elide cooed, “Oh look at all their teeny fingers and toes.”

“I know,” he smiled widely, making him look younger, “You ready to trade?”

“Okay!” They tried maneuvering a few different ways but eventually gave up. Switching babies when you only have two hands is not an easy feat. “Alright, let’s see…”

“Maybe later?” he suggested.

“Perfect.”

***

At Elide and Lorcan’s apartment, Lysandra found Fenrys hunched over the coffee table.

“Hey, what are you working on?” She asked, walking into the living room.

He grinned, “It’s a ‘Welcome Home’ sign for the baby.” He held up the large sign which read Welcome Home Baby in red paint beside a funky-shaped red blob.

“Uh,” Lysandra squinted, “Is that supposed to be the baby?”

Fenrys rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “No, I sat in the paint.”

She snorted just as Rowan walked in.

“Hey,” He nodded at them.

“Hey, so did you talk to Aelin?” Lysandra asked.

Rowan ran his hand through his hair and sighed, “No, and I'm not going to.”

“What?” Lysandra asked incredulously at the same time Fenrys jumped up and asked, “Why not?”

Rowan dropped into a seat at the kitchen table. “Because she's just going to shoot me down. You guys saw what happened with Nox.”

Lysandra scoffed and lightly hit him upside the head. “How can you compare yourself to Nox? I mean, sure, he's sexy in a more obvious way.” She smirked as Rowan glared. “You have a relationship with her, you slept together last night. For gods’ sake, you’re Rowan and Aelin! You’re Rowaelin!”

Rowan huffed, standing up, and told her harshly, “Yeah, and she still wants to go! It's pretty clear where her head is at.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Look, even if I were going to tell her, I don't have to do it now. Okay? I'll be seeing her again. We've got time.”

“Gods, Rowan!” Lysandra tried to make him see reason. “No, you don't! She's going to Paris! She is going to meet somebody. Do you know how many hot guys there are in Paris?”

The door opened before Rowan could get another word in and Aedion strode in carrying a rolled-up paper.

“Hey,” He said as he walked over to Lysandra to kiss her before setting the paper on the table.

“Hey, babe,” Lysandra smiled. “Whatcha got?”

“Oh,” Aedion brightened and unrolled the piece of paper. “I made a little something. If I had more time to work on it, it'd be better, but.” He shrugged, revealing a precisely drawn sign reading Welcome to the World, Baby Lochan.

“Damn, Ashryver,” Rowan nodded appreciatively “that’s really good.”

Fenrys scoffed, still standing next to his sign, and rolled his eyes, grumbling, “You know, the baby can't read, Aedion.”

Lysandra laughed as Aelin opened the door and strode in.

“Hi. You guys, my car just got here,” she said dejectedly. “I can't believe they're not home yet! I have to catch my stupid plane. I wanna see the baby!”

Fenrys spoke up, “Elide called a few minutes ago from the car. She said they should be here any minute. And apparently, there's some big surprise?”

As if on cue, Elide carefully pushed the door open and stepped inside carrying a small baby.

Aelin couldn’t hold in her gasp and none of them tried to hide the misting in their eyes.

“Oh, my gods!” Aelin beamed as she walked to Elide, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, El!” Lysandra gushed, rushing forward.

“So tiny,” Rowan murmured, coming up next to Elide as Fernys and Aedion joined the small group, too.

They turned as they heard another set of footsteps enter, turning to see Lorcan walk in carrying his own small bundle.

“Oh!”

“What the—”

“What?”

“Oh, my gods!”

“Holy sh—”

Five different exclamations happened simultaneously as all their eyes darted between the two babies.

Rowan shook himself and clasped Lorcan on the shoulder, “Okay, awkward question. The hospital knows you took two, right?”

Lorcan glared at Rowan but neither man could keep the grins off their faces as they looked down at the infants.

“Yes, Whitethorn, it’s twins.”

“They’re precious,” Lysandra cooed, making funny faces at the one in Elide’s arms. Aelin, having said hello to that baby, stepped next to Rowan to gaze down at the one Lorcan held.

“This is a boy,” Elide told them, gesturing to the one she held. “And that’s a girl,” she nodded to Lorcan’s.

“Her name is Asterin,” Lorcan told them, not looking away from his daughter’s face.

“Oh, hey, that pregnant lady’s name was Asterin.” Fenrys nodded.

Aedion snorted, “It’s a shame you two didn’t spend more time together.”

Aelin aww’d and patted Lorcan’s arm, the two of them sharing a rare, warm smile.

“The boy we named Cal, after my dad.”

“Oh, you guys,” Aelin whined, “I can't believe this. But I have to leave now, or I'm gonna miss my plane."

“I’m just so glad you got to meet them,” Elide said, watery, pulling Aelin into a hug.

“Me, too,” Aelin told her. “I'm just sorry I'm not gonna be around to watch you two attempt to handle this! Alright, I can't say goodbye to you guys again. I love you all so much.”

I love yous were exchanged and Aelin walked to the door.

“Rowan?” She caught his eye, “come here.”

He nodded and followed her into the hall, shutting the apartment door behind him.

“Rowan, I,” She paused, grabbing his hands and looking into his face with such genuine sadness it made his heart crack and made him want to pull her into his arms and not let go. She took a breath and continued, “I just want you to know, last night...I'll never forget it.”

He cleared his throat, willing the lump in it to disappear. “Neither will I.”

He cupped her cheek and she leaned into the touch. Aelin pulled him in for a hug, holding on tight. When she pulled away, Rowan used every ounce of strength to unwrap his arms from her body, to step away as she walked down the hall and away from him.

When Rowan walked back into the apartment, Lysandra sat next to him and asked, “So, you just let her go?”

Rowan couldn’t reply, he just replayed the last two days over in his head.

“Maybe that's for the best.” Fenrys chimed in, taking up the empty chair. “You know? You just... Look, you gotta... You gotta think about last night the way she does, okay? Maybe sleeping together was the perfect way to say goodbye?"

Lysandra groaned, “But now she'll never know how he feels!”

Aedion walked over and said not unkindly, “Maybe that's okay. You know? Maybe, maybe it’s better this way? I mean, now you can move on. I mean, you've been trying to for so long, maybe now that you're on different continents…”

They kept talking but all Rowan could hear was a buzzing in his head.

“I don’t want to move on.”

He said it quietly but they all stopped talking and looked at him.

“What?” Aedion asked, unsure he heard Rowan correctly.

“I don’t.” Rowan shook his head and stood up. “I want to be with her.”

“Really?” Fenrys asked, excitedly

“Of course really!” Lysandra answered for him.

Rowan kept nodding. “Yeah, I’m gonna go after her. I have to.”

“Yeah, you are!” Lorcan cheered from the living room. Rowan didn’t even have time to find his friend’s enthusiasm funny.

“Finally!” Elide added her own cheer, smiling between Rowan and the babies.

“Come on,” Lysandra urged, standing up and following Rowan to the door. “My car’s downstairs, I’ll drive you to the airport.”

“Okay!” Rowan faced his friends again, “wish me luck!”

A chorus of Good Lucks followed him out the door.

***

“Hey,” Fenrys called excitedly to Lorcan and Eide once Rowan and Lysandra had left, “can I give you guys your house-warming present now?”

The couple shared an amused look before Elide told him, “Now, that you can do.”

“Great! Hang on a minute.” Fenrys left their apartment to walk across the hall to his.

“Okay, my little feather babies where are you?” he muttered as he caught sight of the empty box he’d put them in earlier. “Oh shit.”

He hastily looked in the kitchen, living room, and bedrooms. “Chick Jr? Duck Jr?” he called, running a hand through his hair anxiously. “Don’t hide from mama!”

***

“Lysandra, slow down!” Rowan urged as they almost took out a bicyclist.

She rolled her eyes, “Do you wanna get to Aelin in time?

“Of course I do, but I want to be alive to do it.”

Lysandra huffed at his dramatics but eased up on the gas. Slightly.

Finally arriving at the airport, Rowan and Lysandra rushed past the hoards of people, trying to maneuver their way towards Aelin.

“Rowan!” Lysandra called as he made to run down the hallway. “Where are you going?”

“To talk to Aelin.” Obviously.

“What?” She grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the ticket counter. “What, are you just gonna walk up to her at the gate? Have you never chased anyone through the airport before?”

“Not since the last time I chased the love of my life—no I haven’t Lys!”

She rolled her eyes as she kept dragging him away from the terminals. “You have to get a ticket to get past security, Idiot.”

Oh, right.

“Shit, we’re never gonna make it.” he hissed as they got caught behind the human embodiments of snails on their way to the counter.

***

“Miss, your boarding pass, please.” The gate attendant asked Aelin as she approached.

“Right, of course.” She dug through her purse then frowned, not seeing it. Flashing an apologetic smile to the people behind her, she took her purse off her shoulder and rummaged through it frantically. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The attendant cleared his throat. “Your boarding pass.”

Internally cringing, she put on her most charming smile. “You know, I had it,” she forced a chuckle, “Oh, you wouldn’t believe this—”

He looked unimpressed. “Miss, if you don't have your boarding pass—”

“I have it, I have it! Okay, I don’t have it, but I remember that I was in seat 32C,” she leaned in closer and winked, “because that’s my bra size.”

He sighed again. “Miss, you must have your boarding pass.”

Aelin huffed and stepped out of the line. “Okay, fine! But you know what? If I was in 36D, we would not be having this problem.”

Muttering to herself, Aelin scoured all her bags, finally brandishing the ticket and rushing back to the counter. “Here it is!”

***

Finally getting up to the ticket counter, Rowan slammed down his wallet, demanding, “I need a ticket.”

Lysandra pouted. “Just one? I drive you all the way down here, and I don't get to see how it works out?”

“Fine, fine,” he corrected irritatedly, “two tickets, I need two tickets.”

Lysandra sighed dramatically and leaned into Rowan, giving him her most overexaggerated doe-eyes. “We're on our honeymoon” she stage-whispered to the woman behind the computer.

The ticket agent merely raised a manicured brow and asked, “Destination?”

Rowan already had his credit card ready, “whatever’s cheapest.”

Lysandra sighed again, “I’m so lucky.”

Rowan leveled a glare at her and she tried not to laugh.

Once inside the terminal, Rowan sprinted toward the first departure timetable he could find. “Okay, flight 421 to Paris. I don't see it, do you see it?”

Lysandra stood next to him, eyes scanning the board. “No, did we miss it?”

“No, no, no. That's impossible,” Rowan told her. “It doesn't leave for another 20 minutes.”

“Maybe we have the flight number wrong? Hang on, let me call Elide.”

She stepped aside, impatiently waiting for Elide to pick up her phone.

“Hello?” the new mom answered.

“Hey! It’s me. Here’s Rowan.” Then she thrust the phone into Rowan’s hand.

“Elide, do you—”

“Oh, my gods, Rowan, wait until you hear the cute little noises the twins are making. Listen.”

“What? No, Elide.” Rowan cursed as he heard unintelligible baby sounds. “Elide, Elide, Elide, Elide—”

“Oh sorry,” she said, “They were doing it before.”

“Elide! Listen, please. I need Aelin’s flight information.”

“Oh, sure, hang on.” he could hear ruffling paper as he paced back and forth. “Here it is, it's flight 421. Leaves at 8:40.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, its not on the board.

“Flight 421,” Elide repeated, “leaves at 8:40, Newark airport.”

Rowan froze, his heart sinking. “What?”

“Newark airport.” Elide gasped. “Where are you?”

But she already knew the answer.

“JFK.” he breathed, utterly defeated.

***

If Rowan wasn’t so upset, he would be fearing for his life as Lysandra sped through the streets at breakneck speed.

“Lysandra, forget it, okay? Newark is like an hour away. There's no way we're gonna make it in time.”

“She’s got her phone,” Lysandra braved a glance at him, narrowly avoiding another car, "you could call her.”

Rowan scoffed, “I am not doing this over the phone.”

“You don’t have any other choice!” She insisted before reaching for her own phone and calling Aelin.

It rang once. Twice.

“Hello? Lys?” Aelin’s voice rings out from the speaker and it was like a tether Rowan desperately wanted to hold onto.

“Aelin?” Lysandra answered, relieved. “oh, good. Hey, by the way, did you just get on the plane?”

“Yeah, I did.”

Leaning over, Lysandra hissed, “For what it's worth, we would have caught her if we were at the right airport.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Rowan sniped.

“Uh, Ae, hang on,” she tried pushing the phone into Rowan’s hand but he adamantly refused to do this without being able to look Aelin in the eye.

“Lys? Is everything okay?” Aelin asked, worriedly.

Glaring at Rowan, Lysandra struggled to find a reason for calling. “Uhm, actually no. No, you've...you have to get off the plane.”

“What? Why?” Aelin sounded bewildered.

“I just,” Lysandra sighed, shooting another glare at Rowan, “I have this feeling that something's wrong with it. Something is wrong with the, uh,” she paused again before snapping her fingers and declaring, “with the left phalange.”

“Lys, babe, I'm sure there's nothing wrong with the plane. Look, I have to go. I love you, and I will call you the minute I get to Paris.”

***

On the plane, Aelin hung up the phone only to feel the man beside her tap insistently on her shoulder.

“What was that?” he asked, looking anxious.

“Oh,” Aelin waved a hand dismissively, “that was just my friend. She told me I should get off the plane because she had a feeling that there was something wrong with the left phalange.” She chuckled, sure it was just Lysandra’s way of finding an excuse to talk to her again before the flight took off.

But the man started to fidget. “Okay, that doesn't sound good.”

“I wouldn't worry about it.” Aelin again waved him off, “She's always coming up with stuff like this, and you know what? She's almost never right.”

“But she is sometimes?”

“Well…” Aelin trailed off, thinking about all the things Lysandra has had an intuition about.

Her hesitation was apparently enough to send her seatmate into a tail-spin because he instantly got up and tried to grab his suitcase, only for the flight attendant to stop him.

“Excuse me, sir, where are you going?” The woman asked, curtly.

“I have to get off this plane, okay?” he insisted, then gestured towards a wide-eyed Aelin. “Her friend has a feeling something's wrong with the left phalange.”

He said it loud enough that other passengers began to panic, while Aelin sheepishly shrugged at the annoyed flight attendant.

“There is nothing wrong with the plane, sir.”

He finally got his bag down and cried, “The left phalange!”

The attendant looked incredulously between the man and Aelin, “There is no phalange.”

“Oh my God. This plane doesn't even have a phalange!”

Aelin watched, wincing, as more passengers overheard and insisted they, too, get off the plane. Person after person marched out the aisle and soon Aelin loosed a long breath, “This is ridiculous,” she watched another two people leave. “Yeah, okay.”

Grabbing her own bag, she followed the crowd off the plane.

***

Rowan doubted he’d ever felt as frantic or desperate as he did right now.

He and Lysandra finally made it to Newark, bought another ticket, and raced to Aelin’s gate.

“Where is she?” He muttered, almost pulling out his hair with how forcefully he raked his hands through it.

“I don't see her,” Lysandra answered.

“Aelin!” Rowan shouted, not caring about the stares he garnered. “Aelin Galthynius!”

“Oh!” Lysandra gasped, pointing towards a crowd, “There she is!”

“Aelin!” He yelled again, pushing past people as he tried to run onto the boarding gate.

“Woah,” the gate attendant stopped Rowan, “excuse me, sir, do you have a boarding pass?”

“I just need to talk to someone,” he pleaded.

“I’m sorry, you cannot go any further without a boarding pass.”

“Gods, please, I just need—”

“AELIN!” Lysandra shrieked, getting everyone’s attention including a specific blonde who rushed back out the gate and stood gaping at Lysandra and Rowan.

“Oh my gods,” she looked back and forth between the two before her gaze locked and held with Rowan’s as she breathed, “What—what are you guys doing here?”

“All you,” Lysandra nudged Rowan then made herself scarce

“What? What is it?” Aelin demanded, pulling Rowan aside, “Rowan, you're scaring me. What's going on?”

“Aelin,” Rowan didn’t know where to start. “Okay, the thing is,” he trailed off again. How could he tell that he loved her? How could he wrap up ten years—more than that—of falling in love with her, even at times when he didn’t know it. How could he explain that to her?

“Rowan?”

He took a deep breath. “Don’t go.”

“What?” Aelin asked, shocked.

“Aelin, please, don’t leave. I am so gods damn in love with you. Please, don’t go.”

Aelin stood open-mouthed, her eyes shimmering with an emotion he didn’t dare name. “Oh, my gods.”

He groaned, “I know, I know. I’m an idiot and a bastard, and any other name you want to call me. I shouldn't have waited until now to say it, Hellas, I shouldn’t have waited until now to realize it, but,” he shook his head, locking his gaze with hers. “That was stupid, okay? I'm sorry, I’m so sorry, but I'm telling you now. I love you. I’m in love with you. Please, do not get on this plane.”

“Miss?” a throat cleared behind them, making Aelin blink and drag her watery eyes away from his. “Are you boarding the plane?”

“Aelin,” Rowan took her hand, urging her to stay, “Aelin, please. I know you love me, too. I know you do. Don’t go. Stay.”

“I,” Aelin looked between Rowan and the gate attendant with shock and regret etched across her face. “I have to get the plane,” she whispered.

“No, you don’t.” Rowan held tightly to her hand.

“Yes, I do.” despite her protests, she didn’t pull her hand away.

“No,” Rowan stepped closer, cupping her cheek and reveling in the fact that she leaned into his touch. “You don’t.”

“Rowan,” her words barely louder than a breath, “They're waiting for me, I can't do this right now, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

He couldn’t understand what was happening. Rowan couldn’t accept that she was walking away.

“Aelin.” he pleaded, one final time.

She took a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry.”

Rowan stood unmoving, felt his breathing freeze and his heart cease beating if just for a moment as he watched Aelin walk away from him and board the plane.

He wasn’t aware of people moving around him or of Lysandra coming to stand next to him before pulling him into a hug murmuring I’m sorry. He wasn’t aware of his surroundings as he walked towards Lysandra’s car or his walk back to his apartment. All he knew was that he’d just watched the love of his life walk away and there would soon be an ocean between them.

***

Lorcan sealed the last box of his and Elide’s things.

“Wow,” Elide sighed, looking around the bare apartment. “Everything’s packed.”

“It’s weird,” Lorcan replied, looking around the space he and their friends had occupied for so many years.

“I know.” She stood on her toes and he leaned down to meet her for a kiss.

“So, uh,” Fenrys spoke up from the kitchen, “does this mean there's nothing to eat?”

Elide snorted while Lorcam tried his best to reign in his smirk. Turning, Elide told him, “I put three lasagnas in your freezer.”

He beamed, “I love you!”

She chuckled as the door opened and Lysandra walked in.

“How’d it go?” Elide asked

“So did you guys make it in time?” Aedion spoke at the same time from his place against the fridge.

“Yeah,” Lysandra sighed, “Yeah, he talked to her, but she got on the plane anyway.”

“Where’s Rowan?” Lorcan asked her, knowing Rowan would be hiding away, brooding.

“He went home,” Lysandra frowned and leaned into Aedion’s embrace. “He didn't want to see anybody.”

***

Sitting on his couch, Rowan noticed his answering machine beeping. More out of muscle memory than an actual urge to listen, he pressed the button.

“Rowan, It’s me.”

Rowan jolted, a mess of emotion flying through him as he listened to Aelin's voice filter through his machine.

“I just got back on the plane. I feel awful. Gods, Rowan, that was so not how I wanted things to end with us.”

End. Rowan braced himself, he had to get through this message.

“It's just that I wasn't expecting to see you, and all of a sudden you're there and saying these things...and now I’m sitting here thinking of everything I should’ve said that I didn’t.”

Rowan heard her take a shuddering breath.

“I didn't even get to tell you that I love you too.”

His breath caught, and hope filled him for the first time since he’d been standing in front of her.

“Because of course, I do. I love you. I love you. Gods, Rowan, I love you.”

He held his breath, he almost couldn’t wrap his brain around what he was hearing, what he’d longed to hear.

“What am I doing? I love you! I need to get off this plane—”

“Oh my gods,” Rowan listened, wide-eyed as he heard Aelin argue with a flight attendant.

“Excuse me? I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but I need to get off this plane, okay? I need to tell Rowan I love him.”

“Miss, can't let you off the plane.”

“Let her off the plane!” Rowan screamed at his machine.

“Oh, please, you don’t understand. Isn’t there any way you can just let me off—”

Beeeeep.

The message ended and Rowan was left sitting on the edge of his sofa staring disbelievingly at his answering machine.

“No!” He jumped up, carding a hand through his hair, “No! Aelin! Oh, my gods, did she get off the plane?”

“I got off the plane.”

Rowan whirled around so fast he thought his neck might snap. Aelin stood in his doorway, suitcase in hand, staring at him with a watery smile and eyes that blazed with surety.

“You got off the plane.” Rowan breathed and strode towards her, holding her face in his hands as she grabbed his arms, each clinging to the other, not able to let the other go.

Rowan wasn’t sure who moved first, but the next moment he was kissing Aelin, It was as if all the years of pining, love, heartbreak, and friendship, barreled through them and into a kiss full of promise. All the mistakes of the past, all the time wasted, was over. Now, they could finally be Rowan and Aelin. Finally.

When they pulled apart, still unable to let the other go, Aelin leaned her forehead against his and told him, “I do. I do love you.”

Rowan brushed a tear from her cheek and smiled down with all the warmth he could gather. “I love you too, Fireheart. And I’m never letting you go, again.”

“Good," She nodded, gripping him tighter, “because this is where I want to be, okay? With you. Always with you. No more messing around.”

“That’s right,” he agreed, “we’re done being stupid.”

Aelin kissed him again. “You and me, alright?” She looked him in the eye and saw everything she felt mirrored there. “To whatever end.”

“This is it. To whatever end” He echoed, pulling her in for another kiss.

***

The seven of them stood in the now-empty living room of Elide and Lorcan’s apartment. The new parents each held a baby, Fenrys sat with Lysandra and Aedion near the large window, and Aelin leaned into Rowan who had his arms wrapped around her as they stood to the side.

“Wow,” Aelin murmured, looking around the bare space.

“I know,” Rowan said into her hair, “It seems smaller somehow.”

Fenrys glanced at the walls a minute before asking, “Has it always been purple?” His answer consisted of several snorts.

Lorcan and Elide strapped Asterin and Cal into their stroller. Elide sniffed, facing everyone else, “Oh, uh, I promised the landlord we’d leave our keys.”

She said it to Lorcan, but each of them walked toward the counter to place their own keys. Elide laughed, looking at seven pairs of keys to a two-person apartment.

“I guess this is it,” Lysandra commented mournfully.

“Yeah,” Aedion wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “I guess so.”

At Elide’s sniffle, Lorcan pulled her into his arms. Through the fabric of his shirt, they could hear her say, “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

Gathering herself, Elide unwrapped her arms from Lorcan’s middle before turning to hug Aelin who’d come to stand next to her.

“Do you guys have to go to the new house right away?” Aelin asked, “Or do you have some time?”

“We have some time.”

“Okay,” Rowan grabbed Aelin’s hand, “should we get some coffee?”

“Sure,” Fenrys smirked. “Where?”

They all laughed as they walked out of the apartment that had become so important to each one of them. Aedion helped Lorcan carry the double stroller down the stairs, followed closely by Elide. Lysandra and Fenrys were bickering, but smiling as they walked. And Rowan and Aelin had their arms wrapped around each other, not daring or wanting to let the other one go. They shared a smile, and with one last glance at the closed apartment door, they left.

*****

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[ikroah]

Whiskey river, take my mind, don't let her memory torture me. Whiskey river, don't run dry, you're all I got, take care of me. —“Whiskey River,” Shotgun Willie (1973)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #15 - Vegas Outskirts

Collaborative Issue! Guest Colorist: @malpaislegate​ / @socksual-innuendos​

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Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

MAN that’s gotta hurt!! Volume 2 kicks off with a bang, literally if you count the gunshot and honorifically if you count Socks’ knockout color job on this issue. Look at those lovingly rendered bullet wounds!! Muah!!!

It’s been a relief having a month off from the comic as I handled a bunch of other things but there’s a lot to look forward to in Volume 2, as you can probably tell from that very forboding fist clench at the end there. Will Agnes and Cass get the revenge they’re looking for? Can they make it big in Vegas? Will it keep right on a-hurtin’? Find out next ish as Cass leads Agnes to meet the first of their new “friends.”

Original Pencils:

The pencils for this issue are like an autopsy report of all the things that can go wrong with your art if you don’t plan ahead and pay attention. Listen, friend, to my tale of woe, and learn from my mistakes so they don’t become yours!

First, you can see a lot of places where there’s floating objects, empty backgrounds, and incomplete heads. Part of this is because I always intended to just copy and paste repeated elements across each panel instead of drawing them multiple times, but other times I was forced to just because of my lack of planning. The top three panels on page two, for example, required me to draw the background I’d use for them on a separate page.

Second, you can probably tell that I actually had to flip the two raiders around in the final lineart because I forgot to keep the hands their were holding their guns in consistent—and since I couldn’t flip the middle panel on the second page without ruining the composition, I decided to flip all of their other appearances so that they’d be lefties. I doubt you even can seamlessly wield those particular guns left-handed.

Third, the size of the cart that Agnes and Cass are kneeling behind changes CONSTANTLY and is dramatically oversized from the third page onward. After inking these pages, it took a lot of work to correct the inks and shrink that cart in each panel, but fortunately it came out looking good.

And finally, I completely redrew the second panel on the fifth page because it wasn’t until I had already handed he pages off to my colorist that I realized having a second profile shot of Cass so soon after a first one was just...redundant and lazy-looking. So I went back to my sketchbook and whipped up a much more unique, striking angle (I also just wasn’t satisfied with the quality of my art on that panel, so I’m very glad I redrew it). But again, my failure to plan ahead bit me in the ass and my redraw attempt wound up taking up a lot more space than I thought it would, so after inking it I had to basically surgically remove it from the other inks.

I’ll be honest with you folks: part of the reason that I work in such simple, thick, high-contrast lineart is because it’s very easy to make corrections and adjustments with stuff you could technically color in Microsoft Paint.

Transcript:

EXT. SOMEWHERE IN THE MOJAVE, morning. AGNES SANDS and ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY stand over the wreckage of a caravan, scattered over a dirt road.

CASS: Hell.

EXT. SOMEWHERE ELSE IN THE MOJAVE, midday. Looking over a second wrecked caravan, at the bottom of a ditch.

CASS: Fuck.

EXT. PRE-WAR HIGHWAY OUTSIDE OF VEGAS, mid-afternoon. AGNES and CASS survey a third wrecked caravan.

CASS: Shit. The proof is in the pudding. Or the pile of ash, rather. These attacks were done with Van Graff guns for Crimson Caravan caps. I'm sure of it.

As CASS explains her theory to AGNES, a short distance from the caravan two RAIDERS peer at the two of them from inside a barn at a ruined farmstead. They have snake-bite tattoos on the sides of their shaved heads and are holding rifles.

CASS: The scorchmarks and residue in the wreckages? That's energy weapon shit. Plasma and laser. Silver Rush special. Not like it'd be the Brotherhood. And Crimson Caravan must have bankrolled this fucked-up little hunting trip themselves.

The RAIDERS move out from the barn, sneaking up on two passers-by who’ve stopped at the caravan wreckage.

CASS: That explains why they bought me out...they needed the last loose end to saddle up back west with a tidy sum.

(NOTE: *Agnes delivered it and Cass signed it in IKROAH #7—Lou.)

CASS: It's a racket, Agnes: torch the local competition and it's win-win for both the f—

SFX: KRAK

A gunshot rips out from one of the RAIDERS’ rifles and sears across CASS’ shoulder.

CASS (gasping): —uckers.

CASS slumps down beneath the overturned caravan wagon on the road, clutching her shot shoulder.

CASS: —Aaggghghhhhhhh.

AGNES: Cass! Are you—

CASS: Fuck! Agnes, get down you moron!

AGNES ducks behind the cover of the wooden caravan wagon just as another gunshot splinters the top lip of it.

SFX: DTHWAK!

The RAIDERS advance on CASS and AGNES’ position, firing at them from off the road.

SFX: KRAK

AGNES leans over the top of the wagon with her pistol, returning fire.

SFX: BTAK BTAK BTAK

AGNES lands a shot right in one of the RAIDERS’ guts, and she drops her weapon and falls down.

SFX: SPLUT

CASS, leaning out the side of the wagon, takes as careful of aim as she can with her shotgun by holding it with her good arm. Trembling, she fires, connecting with the other RAIDER.

SFX: KBLAM

The would-have-been RAIDERS are dead.

AGNES: ...were those the Van Graffs?

CASS: No. Just some vultures.

CASS leans back behind cover to sit against the bottom of the overturned wagon again, wincing from her shoulder injury.

CASS: Ugghhn.

AGNES (slipping off duffel bag): Cass, your shoulder—

CASS: Yeah, it's been shot. I'm pretty fucking aware.

AGNES (unzipping bag): Quick, can you take your shirt off—

CASS: What!?

AGNES: —so I can dress the wound, Cass!

CASS: Oh! Good! So you weren't coming onto me on what remains of Griffin Wares Caravan.

CASS starts removing her shirt while AGNES produces a bottle of something from her duffel bag, and dampens a rag with its contents.

CASS: And since when are you a fucking field medic, anyway?

AGNES: 2269. NCR Certified.

CASS: What?

AGES: Yeah. I've been one kind of doctor or another since I was six.

CASS: What?

AGNES: Now hold still, this is antiseptic.

CASS: Since you were six!? I...shit, wait, hang on, Agnes—

AGNES pressess the rag onto CASS’ shoulder wound, and CASS winces instinctively. But, confusingly, there isn’t any pain.

CASS: ...isn't this supposed to sting like hell?

AGNES: No, not really. It's an acetic acid solution. Vinegar, basically.

AGNES begins cleaning the wound with the rag.

CASS: I thought you put alcohol on wounds to clean them.

AGNES: That's...a common misconception. It's good for tools, maybe, but too strong for skin. And it can complicate healing if you apply it directly.

CASS: So you're telling me, all my years, I've been wasting good whiskey only making my boo-boos worse?

AGNES: I mean...it's better than nothing in a pinch, but...

CASS: Well, then. Thanks for the lecture, doc. Can you just pass the whiskey anyway? Shoulder still hurts like hell regar—

AGNES hands her the whiskey bottle. She’d already gotten it out.

CASS: —dless. Oh. Thanks.

AGNES unspools a roll of bandages in her hands, then begins wrapping it over CASS’ shoulder and across her chest..

AGNES: So. It's a relatively minor wound, more of a deep graze than a real gunshot.

CASS: You'd know all about real gunshots, huh?

AGNES (unfazed): Uh-huh. I can suture it if necessary, but for now, these bandages will be fine. Just hold still. How do you feel?

CASS: I feel fucking pissed, Agnes!

AGNES recoils, taken aback slightly.

CASS: As I was saying before I got shot in the shoulder—which, however "minor" the wound, is real fucking close to my head, Agnes—this wasn't some random attack. These caravans, my caravan, got hit by the Van Graffs and Crimson Caravan. It ain't just some tragedy anymore. Now I've got names. Places. Faces.

AGNES resumes bandaging CASS.

CASS: I told you—ow! Don't pinch my tit, dammit—

AGNES: I said hold still.

CASS: —I told you, when you told me about this guy who shot you...when I let you drag me out of that fucking outpost...and when we went to Boulder City...that I would do the exact same thing in your shoes. Now, it is the exact same thing. This fucker shoots your eye out, these fuckers ash my caravan...these same fuckers I sold my own goddamn name to on a piece of paper. I mean...what else are we doing out here, Agnes? Getting shot at by Khans and Raiders just for kicks? Are we just fucking around?

AGNES finishes bandaging CASS, then leans back, pensive.

AGNES: No...no, I really guess we’re not.

CASS: That's what I thought. Your friend in Vegas can wait. Help me get mine, and we can get that shitheel together, and that's a prom—

CASS raises her arm  to shake her fist as she speaks, straining her shoulder injury.

CASS: —mmmmmmghhhh. Ooww, oww, oww, oww...

CASS grabs her shoulder in pain while AGNES looks off in the distance and stands up. She looks out towards the horizon—towards VEGAS, and the pre-war casinos and hotels that still gleam and glitter in blinding sunlight.

Her fist clenches. Her brow furrows. Her body tenses, all over, staring at that city, that place.

The caravan wreckage remains alone on the highway, brahmin bones long picked clean by scavengers.

AGNES SANDS IN: IT KEEPS RIGHT ON A HURTIN’

VOLUME 2: MAKE IT BIG IN VEGAS

[themaribatpit]

Saturday Challenge: Double Crossover

Written by: The Maribat Pit   Prompt: Double Crossover Rated: M rating just to be safe (sexual references, mostly because of some very unsavory things Lila thinks and implies about Marinette.) Marinette x Jason Phantom of the Opera (specifically Hush Jason, from 2020′s Death in the Family).

A/N (Maribat fangirl): There is going to be a lot of class salt, Lila salt and some heavy duty character bashing.  I’m going to be upfront, there’s characters being called harlots. A/N (DC fanboy): My S.O. and I pretty much did karaoke while writing this.

Paris, 1875. Marinette worked in her parents bakery, while she loved her family dearly, she was dissatisfied with her current lot in life. She wished to become a singer, and everyday as she walked in the streets of Paris to bring flour to the bakery, she would stop and stare at the Conservatoire de Paris. The enchanting music and singing could be heard even in the streets.

Listening to music always reminded her of her favourite fairy tale told by her father, the one about  ‘Angel of Music’. She would sit on the street across the Conservatoire, close her eyes and listen to the beautiful music emanating from it. Once she tried to sing along, but passersby would be swift to yell at her to stop. They described her voice sounding like a rusty hinge.

Upon her 15th birthday, her parents presented to her a once in a lifetime opportunity. They had presented her with an approved application to the Conservatoire, they had saved enough money for tuition and would be sending her there to chase her dreams as an opera singer. Marinette held her parents tightly, thanking them constantly for the amazing opportunity.

That night, Marinette was unable to sleep, she was beaming with energy and excitement. She could not believe how her luck was changing, how she would be going to the musical academy of her dreams.

The next morning however she would be in a nervous panic for her first day of lessons. Running about the home, getting prepared, packing her bags. She even forgot to eat breakfast, she ran out the door with a croissant in her mouth, much to the chagrin of her parents.

However, her dream academy soon became a waking nightmare to her. She would be tormented daily by all her peers, especially one Lila Rossi, the prima donna of the academy. Every professor would sneer at her low birth, and did nothing when the others tried to sabotage her standing at the Academy.  She tried to keep her head held high, even as everyone else looked down on her for being a baker’s daughter. Marinette ignored the comments and rumours about how she was able to attend the prestigious academy.  Rumours that she dared not repeat, about how she and her parents must be criminals if they were able to afford to send her to the academy.  

It wasn’t enough for her to be stuck in the chorus, Lila Rossi wanted to make sure her place as prima donna of the academy was ironclad. A couple of the teachers felt that she was growing more temperamental, more complacent, and their eyes began to wander for a dancer to take her place.  The other dancers were unwilling to take her place, all except for Marinette, who saw it as a shining opportunity.  For Lila, this simply would not stand.  

The one time Marinette found a pair of scissors that had been used to cut the laces on her pointe shoes.  The same scissors that were missing from her sewing box days earlier. She decided that the time had come to confront Lila once and for all.

Marinette confronted her just before rehearsals began, scissors in hand, in front of everyone.  “Is it true?” she called, everyone turned to look at them.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Lila gasped.  She looked down to see her wearing her worn out slippers, before looking back up at her face.  “You do know you’re meant to be wearing your toe shoes now, right? The show is in a few days.” she reminded her.

“I do,” she breathed, “I also know it was you, you’re the one who cut the laces on my pointe shoes.”

Lila gasped and stepped back, everyone else was shocked by the accusation. She looked away for a moment, and squeezed her eyes shut.  Marinette knew the trick well from their acting classes at the academy, she was getting ready to make it look like she was crying.  “Why? Why would you accuse me of something like this?” she made sure her voice wavered as she spoke, “what reason do I have to sabotage a background dancer’s shoes?”

Marinette knew she had lost the battle before it had even begun, every dancer would move to protect Lila and her crocodile tears.  Lila was the prima donna, the daughter of a diplomat, and she had the entire academy in the palm of her hand.  “Perhaps there was some mistake,” she muttered, walking away from her classmates rushing to defend Lila’s fake tears.  It was useless trying to explain that the scissors were stolen from her, and that this was an elaborate setup.  It was her word against Lila’s, as the directors tried to command the dancer’s attention, Marinette ran.  

Once again, she tried to keep her head held high, it wasn’t as if anyone would believe her when she told them about Lila’s machinations.   She made a habit of keeping her costumes and pointe shoes hidden.  On occasion bringing them home whenever she visited her parent’s bakery, somewhere that little saboteur would not even think to look for them.

Months later, tragedy struck again when she received a letter informing her that her parent’s bakery had been burned.  Her parents, her hopes, her dreams all burned to ash in one night.  It was made worse by the fact that one rehearsal, Lila snatched the letter out of her hands and read it aloud for the entire company of dancers and singers to hear.   She assumed that it would be some kind of love note, probably preparing to spread rumours about Marinette sneaking off into the night with a mystery lover.  Instead, Lila simply made a show of pitying Marinette, “poor thing, it’s worse than I thought.  Unless you can find a patron to support you, your days at the academy are going to be numbered.”

Just as the theatre managers had arrived, Marinette fled, keeping her head down as tears were welling up in her eyes and blurring her vision.  Since the day she arrived she had been mocked, humiliated, tormented simply so that one girl could have the adoration and sympathy of her fellow performers.  Through all the salacious rumours and lies, she tried her best to ignore them and carry herself through it all.  The loss of her parents, their bakery, and now Marinette’s hopes and dreams, it was all too much to bear.  

Marinette ran to an empty music room to cry her heart out, she sat right against the wall, knees curled up to her chest and sobbed into her legs. In this state of absolute despair, she began to sing a song of her favourite fairy tale that her father would sing to her whenever she had a nightmare.  She sang a soft, painful prayer for the Angel of Music and a farewell to her lost parents. “Think of me, think of me fondly, when we say goodbye…”, her singing was hoarse, off key, full of sorrow.

The more she sang, the harder she cried. Soon to the point that she could not complete the song. However, a disembodied voice sang the remaining verse for her. Marinette paused from her crying to look for the voice, it felt as if it came from everywhere and nowhere. It was hypnotising, elegant, enchanting. She walked out of the music room to try to find the source of the singing.

“Come to me, Angel of Music.” The voice sang, in a smooth tenor voice, luring Marinette as if she was a moth attracted to a flame. The voice led her to a musical hall, reserved only for the academy’s annual showcase. She turned the door knob, to her surprise, the door was unlocked. She peeked her head through the door to see a cloaked figure playing the organ, the source of the enchanting voice. “Insolent girl, this slave of fashion. Basking in your glory.” The figure angrily sang “Ignorant fool, this prima donna.”

“Angel of Music, is that you?” Marinette tentatively asked the figure. The figure stopped playing, and turned around to face her. Marinette was taken aback by the figure, he was a tall man, wearing a red mask on the left side of his face. Another distinctive feature other than his magnificent voice was the white streak of hair and piercing green eyes.

“You are unlike any of the fools in this academy. You did not join this academy for fame or fortune. No, you came here because of your love of music.” The figure told her. He took a deep breath and composed himself, straightening his jacket. Then he raised an arm, reaching out to Marinette. “I am your Angel of Music, come to me Angel of Music.”  Marinette walks forward and accepts the Angel’s hand, thus beginning their first musical lesson together.

Marinette’s talent and ability in music skyrocketed with her extra-curricular lessons.   Her mysterious patron was also the one continuing to fund her education at the academy.  Meanwhile, no one else had the time to spread rumours about Marinette, not when there were rumours of a ghost haunting the Conservatoire.  

Unbeknownst to Marinette, she was the key to establishing control over a very profitable endeavour for her mysterious patron. The managers were being extorted to the tune of 20,000 francs and requested that box five remain open.  This money was nothing to them, especially when the sons and daughters of the wealthy and powerful were attending.  Very few had seen Jason’s face, and if they did, they would draw back in fear.   It was the result of a boyhood accident that left him changed and altered in more ways than one.  Taking control of the Conservatoire was merely the first step in taking control of an entire city.  This girl, Marinette, was the key to captivating their attention.  She would hold their attention and adoration as the rising star of the academy, drawing their eyes away from his growing influence and power.  Using talents and potential that they had cast aside, twisting their own hubris against them.  

Months later, everyone in the academy worked towards its annual showcase for its patrons, the nobility and all family members of its students. Lila had grown bored of tormenting Marinette, and had moved on to other victims.  She had her other dancers and singers wrapped around her little finger, and all eyes would be on her at the annual showcase.  

At last the day of the annual showcase had arrived, Lila sat at her personal preparation room, after all she would be the star of the show. She walked over to her wardrobe and opened it, she then screamed in horror to see her dress tattered and in pieces.

In the days leading to the showcase the Director of Conservatoire de Paris had received threatening letters demanding 20,000 Francs, box 5 to remain vacant and worse of all to replace Lila Rossi with some baker’s daughter. Director Bourgeois scoffed at the threats, tossing the letter away.

The next day during the rehearsal for one of the ballet numbers, students and teachers paid no mind to the threats that were outlined in the letter. Until one of the dancers looked up and gasped in horror. The other dancers looked up to find the stagehand hanging from the rafters. The theatre soon bursts into screams of fear as they all see the dead body of the stagehand.   Director Bourgeois ordered all faculty members and students present to remain silent of the murder. This prestigious institution could not afford such a scandal this close to such an important showcase. As the Director inspected the body, he found a letter titled to him attached to the corpse of a stagehand.

Director Bourgeois read the second letter with shaky hands, it read “Monsieur Bourgeois, good day to you. It seems you did not take my threat seriously. I present to you this corpse to show my sincerity. I see you have a young daughter, pray that no harm would befall her. I shall reiterate my demands, 20,000 francs, box five remain vacant and Mademoiselle Marinette shall replace the harlot Lila Rossi.”

Director Bourgeois collapsed into his chair, wiping his sweat. Until he heard a scream from outside his office. He ran out as fast as he could to see Lila Rossi confronting Marinette. Crocodile tears flowed from Lila’s eyes as she accused Marinette of sabotage, purposefully doing so in front of the Director's office.  

“How could you Marinette?” Lila wailed, “Whatever your reasons, how could you do this to me? To the Conservatoire?”

Marinette merely said “Lila, don’t you stay in a private room with guards patrolling the hallway outside?” She shrugs, “I was in my dormitory last night. Besides, how could anyone sneak into your room at night, unless they were a phantom?”

Director Bourgeois goes pale at Marinette’s implication, he had to intervene quickly, before the situation got worse. He attempted to placate Lila, “Now now mademoiselles, I can’t punish anybody unless we have solid evidence. As the saying goes ‘the show must go on.’ Signora Rossi, as you are currently unable to perform, I’m afraid Mademoiselle Marinette will have to take your place.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at the offer given to her, she could not believe it. Director Bourgeois himself offered her the star role for this year’s showcase. It is all as her Angel of Music said would happen. She accepted the role wholeheartedly and thanked the director profusely, she skipped back to the musical hall to begin rehearsals, now as the main lead.

Lila’s jaw dropped to see the director siding against her, how he gave away her role to that peasant without any hesitation. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, she stomped her way back to her bedroom to begin scheming the ultimate humiliation for Marinette. She was so distracted with her rage, she had not noticed a shadowy figure following her.

Lila planned to show the entire Opera house just who Marinette was, little more than a filthy peasant who got lucky.  She was supposed to have packed her bags and left months ago, after her parents and their pathetic little bakery burned down.  “This Opera Phantom had a lot of nerve calling me a harlot, when Marinette is probably his little harlot.” she muttered harshly in the darkness.  She searched the costume room for the lead actress’ dress, a long flowing gown that brushed against the floor.  It was made with the finest fabrics that money could buy, it almost broke Lila’s heart to sabotage it.  She would rather die than see it worn by some peasant girl, a pretender, a talentless sham of a performer.  Before she can lay hand on the dress to destroy it, a gloved hand reaches out and grabs her by the wrist.  A voice interrupts her, “What do you think you are doing with that?”

Lila slowly turns around to see a grotesque figure staring at her.  In the candlelight, she was horrified by the person she saw. The left half of his face was severely burned, almost completely disfigured. His bright green eyes flared with a fury that genuinely terrified Lila as the figure glared at her. She immediately drops everything and screams, as she runs out the door as fast as her legs would carry her, wailing and screaming how the ghost is trying to kill her. “He’s there, the Phantom of the Opera!” she wails as he chases her down. The Phantom pursues his prey. Just as Lila runs around a corner, the ghost is there waiting for her. She gives another horrified scream, falling to the floor and trying to crawl in the opposite direction. “No no no, please don't kill me!” She begged as tears blurred her vision.

Her howls and pleas of mercy attract nearby students, teachers and guards. They all arrive to see Lila screaming like a maniac on the floor, alone and raving about some ghost hunting her down. “The ghost is real! He is real I tell you! He’s going to kill me!” she sobbed. As Lila was being escorted out of the academy, gossip spread like wildfire. Within hours everyone would be talking about how Lila had lost all of her sanity because of the ghost.

They had no other choice at that moment, the show had to go on.  If they wanted the night to go smoothly, with no one noticing anything strange or peculiar, they had to meet the Phantom’s demands.  Marinette stood there, centre stage, with all of Paris’ most influential in the audience. She began to sing her show stopping aria.  

As she glided across the stage and looked out into the audience, her eyes searched for the man in the red mask.  She liked to imagine her Angel of Music beaming at her with pride, without him, she would still be that sad little girl crying in the music room.  She sang as loudly and as clearly as she could, hoping that her voice would pierce the heavens clearly enough for her mother and father to hear.  

As she reached her crescendo, she peaked with an E6. Her voice echoed across the entire hall with the sharpness and perfection of a veteran soprano singer. The audience collective dropped their jaws at the spectacle. Marinette ended her aria with a bow, and the theatre erupted with a thunderous round of applause.  

Jason watched from his seat in box five, with a self satisfied smile on his face.  From that day forth, he would see to it that all eyes were on her.