#i did indeed draw each book individually

[piratedllama-art]

the librarian [x]

done in procreate

[lovevuni]

Double Dare Romance : Enoch O’Connor x Reader : Part 2 Success

Warning: Flirting, Fluff, slight dirty flirting (like two bits), Slow burn

Summary: You take your new challenge into effect, taking every oppurtunity to flirt with enoch to get him flustered in order to soften him up. Your only goal is to get under his skin and have him admit defeat. Is this when you succed?

A/N: Again I hate using Y/N but sadly have to. Enjoy~

Part 1: Challenge Accepted

You are unpacking your luggage in your room Miss Peregrine has assigned to you.

“Ah, Y/N. Always one step ahead of everyone else. I must say, I admire your tenacity.” Enoch says as you are unpacking causing you to look at him.

“tenacity?” You question not understanding the word. 

“Yes, tenacity. Despite our initial differences and the challenges that arise when you’re around, you never give up or lose sight of your goals. Whether it’s advancing your mission or getting under someone’s skin, you always keep pushing forward. It’s an admirable quality, even if it does drive me mad at times.”

“The only thing I want under is you pretty boy.” You tease him causing him to raise an eyebrow at your amusing words.

“Ah, I see you’re still trying to rile me up. Well let me tell you, Y/N, there are much more effective ways to get under my skin than cheap taunts and insults.”

“I bet there is, but this is a lot more fun” You wink.

He chuckles at your antics, “Indeed it is, Y/N. And who knows, maybe someday you’ll find a way to genuinely get under my skin. But until then, I suppose I’ll just have to content myself with watching you try.” 

Claire walks into the room announcing that it was time for dinner before skipping out of the room. (I love claire)

“The night is still young, Y/N. Perhaps we could continue this conversation over dinner? My treat, of course.” In your head you roll your eyes knowing Miss peregrine and the children make the food.

“We shall” You say as you grab his arm for him to escort you down to dinner.

He smiles as he takes your had, leading you out of the room and towards the dining hall.

“A charming lady like yourself should definitely make the most of social situations. Who knows, perhaps tonight will bring about a new opportunity to annoy each other further...or perhaps something more meaningful may come from it? Only time will tell.”

“Oh I plan on it” You finish the conversation as you take a seat next to him, planning your next attack.

He takes a sip of his drink looking pleased as ever, “You know, Y/N, sometimes I wonder what motivates you. Is it simply the thrill of the chase, or do you truly wish to engage in meaningful discourse with me? It’s hard to tell with you; you’re so elusive and unpredictable.”

“I’d never tell you” He grins at this.

“Of course not, Y/N. That would defeat the purpose entirely. Part of the fun is trying to figure you out, to test your boundaries and push your buttons. And yet, despite our differences and opposing viewpoints, there’s something about you that draws me in.” 

You decide to end the conversation there and move your focus to Millard, conversing with him about different books you both enjoy.

Enoch watches as you begin to speak with millard about literature, “ Ah, a love of reading. How quaint. I must admit, though. I’m suprised to see you conversing with such a lowbrow individual as Millard. Then again, perhaps you seek to prove some sort of point by associating with those beneath you?”

You decide to ignore him and continue your convo with Millard.

He seems offended but stays silent as you converse with Millard, but continues to watch you carefully.

As you finish talking and begin to eat Enoch takes this time to try and speak with you again, “So, did you enjoy your chat with Millard? I must confess, i found it somewhat amusing to observe.”

“You’re observing me now?” giving him a shocked look knowing full well he was.

He smirks, “Indeed, I find myself fascinated by your every move. Perhaps it’s because we have such a strong connection. Or maybe it’s just that I enjoy pushing your buttons. One cannot be sure in these matters. What do you think drives your interactions with me Y/N?”

“You believe we have a connection now? If I were any better I would say your catching feeling now Enoch” You say teasingly as you run your foot up his leg under the table making sure non of the children see what is happening.

He laughs as he glances at your foot on his leg before meeting your gaze once more, “Oh, I know you are much too good for me, Y/N. But perhaps there is something about the way I challenge you, the way I push your boundaries, that appeals to you on a deeper level.”

“I wouldn’t say that now” You continue to move your foot up his body to a more intimate area of his, still making sure no one else can see.

He smirks leaning closer to you, their voices low enough not to be overheard, “is it possible that part of you enjoys the thrill of danger, the excitement of exploring forbidden territories? Are you secretly drawn to the darkness withing me even though it terrifies you at times?”

“there is nothing intimidating about you my boy, I’m just trying to prove that I can get under your skin” You whisper with your hot breath in his ear.

Gasping with shivers down his back as he feels your warm breath against his ear, “You certainly succeed in getting under my skin, Y/N. And yes, I admit it - there is something about the darkness inside of you that draws me in like a moth to a flame.” SUCCESS!

You laugh as you completely pull away from him in a succeeding manner, “told you I would get you”

He laughs, “Well played, it seems our little game has become quite heated. Shall we continue?”

“why should we, when I have already won.” You get up in victory from the table to help Claire get ready for bed, “Come on Claire, time for bed.”

He watches you leave the table and take care of Claire, feeling conflicted emotions swirling within him.

“Intrigued by your wit, intelligence, and hidden desires. Driven by the need to understand you better, to uncover the depths of your soul.” He says to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 3 : Only Fun

[atiny-for-life]

Xikers Full Storyline Explained - Part 2

Masterlist

Rockstar

We're kicking off on a shot of a dark modern city only interrupted by a beam of light reaching down into the center between the clusters of skyscrapers

While we're initially focused on Minjae, we're quick to find out that more beams are popping up and they're shining right down on all 10 members spread across the city - they're the chosen ones, but chosen for what?

At the moment, all of Xikers are still in school and they seem to be attending the same one

We find Seeun alone in a class room with a tattoo on the side of his neck - "777-E-7" - throughout the course of the video, we'll see that each member has their own tattoo and they're all different; unfortunately, I'm not yet sure what they all mean

Going by the lyrics, we're dealing with a bunch of little rebels who don't care for school rules - they dress messily, show attitude when they so please and really just wanna have fun

They also use the phrase "Ullaeli Kkollaeli" which is both "a Korean word that is used when you’re teasing or making fun of someone" (source) and the title of a song by 1Team, a now disbanded group with two former members that had participated in MIXNINE - the same survival show four of Ateez's eight members had participated in (I just thought that was interesting since Hongjoong worked on the full album as writer, composer and arranger)

Throughout the following shots, the world around them begins to change - graffiti appears and begins to move and spread, becoming animated

Note that its all kept in white and blue, just as the wisps were in Tricky House

Going frame-by-frame, we can also catch a little easter egg as Jinsik is taking in the warped reality spreading around him: a promo for Tricky House

They sing about feeling free, having their worries disappear, being reborn and behind Seeun, the first blue and white goblin flames appear, once again heavily reminiscent of the spirit wisps we saw in Tricky House - an omen for the appearance of dokkaebi

The fire billows up from the chalkboard drawing of an eye - a shape we have seen and continue to see a lot throughout the course of this MV

And indeed, the spirits enter the scene shortly after as Xikers perform in what seems to be an abandoned warehouse

They circle them, crowding ever closer and speeding up until they've formed a full on storm

In its center, Hunter captures one of the wisps in his fist; it begins to glow - presumably, the other members did the same

This is them being chosen as the key players in Tricky's newest game (see: The TRICKY's Secret, or for a more detailed explanation: Bonus - TRICKY)

In the next verse, the lyrics shift from the present to their dreams for the future: getting attention, making it big in the music industry, feeling comfortable with being the center of attention, aiming for the stars

The spirits follow each of them individually as they move separately but the wisps shift from a more comic book style to the familiar blue fiery look as Xikers come back together and leap through the air in this gorgeous shot

As they perform in a large empty building with gray tile floors and glass walls and ceiling, another storm begins to brew and is quick to encase them fully

The lyrics shift to a darker, more vulnerable tone: "The scars I buried in my heart / And the past I hid / Can't kill me, can't stop me / Play the music louder"

Caught in the eye of the storm, they all begin to look up

Looking down at them is a blue iris, its pupil slitted like a cat's or snake's, likely belonging to Tricky who has chosen them to host these spirits as means of keeping him entertained for the foreseeable future

They've now become the key players in a cosmic board game meant to entertain an ancient deity

We get a close up of Hunter's eyes as the blue fire brims and overflows behind them - the spirit has become a part of him and presumably also the other members

Their fates are now sealed

[empty-pizza]

thoughts on nona the ninth chapter seventeen

lots of wild stuff this chapter too. nona and camilla haven't really gotten a chance to talk about the broadcast and who was on it.

the vibe of camilla and palamedes going back and forth to record to messages to each other is so sad and sweet

"It's not you. It's me wearing you. I keep turning around to find you, and there's nobody there."

awww

they imply that Varun is indeed a resbeast, but the plan isn't to get a lyctor to remove it. they also raise the possibility that Nona is a real merged being, but if that's the case, then who's in Gideon's body? also, how did God even get Gideon's body?

love that angel's just like "yeah i met your gf" to camilla

angel had a strange reaction to nona's drawing. we know she was a zoologist or something. what did nona draw?

in general i'm more interested in the cosmic cast of characters than the individual rascal kiddos Nona befriended, but i do think it strengthens the story to get that more ordinary view of the world and the situations they're in. especially in contrast to how the last book was all about the top level view.

[rocheewrites]

Enlighten

(Alhaitham × OC fiction)

Summary : As such, he out of all these individuals, is an rare exception. Unlike those who bound to persist inside the pages, with no proper deduction, His rational and syllogistic way of representing facts in a situation is methodical, as a growth of a sprout to a tree, inferentially drawing the fruits of a befitting outcome.

His actions often find deemed in irritation for most people, but the perspicacity of his views stands unshakable. Because only by whom aspires the true enlightenment, that he believes the complexity of this world can be determined. After all, "a commoner" would never dive deep into such thoughts. Therefore he is, a follower, yet devoted to no god nor beliefs, has stepped to a lasting journey of searching, the truth.

Perhaps “perfection” is still not the right word to describe him. He, however, maintains a lucid mindset, allows no outsiders or any such related materials to float across the tranquil sail through Sea of knowledge that carries him to the endpoint of this said subject matter, enlightenment. .

Chapter Prologue : For Riddles, for Wonders

A realm of nature’s beauty that Sumeru is, where the roots of wisdom entrenched, were once preserved by the blessing of the dendro Archon, the spectacularly of this land praised as the heart of Teyvat. The lush forests and the endless horizon of the sands of scorching sun is indeed the said territories. It has long known for it’s Erudition, where the Pride of every dweller lies in this term.

Their belief of this term has laid upon the once built Place for the Sagacious, known to everyone, the Akedemiya. Those who seeks the profound proficiency of knowledge can only be considered as branches of it. However, not every single soul who wishes to be a part of it can have an opportunity to stand within their boundary.

Yet here she was, presenting her little self in front of the giant doors that led the path inside to this Scholarly institute, a hint of glimmering hope appearing in her eyes upon seeing the divine Tree enwrapped building before her. with each step she took forward, Courage and Determination bubbling inside her, a newly born excitement engulfing her body, racing up the rhythm of her heartbeat. a small notebook in her hand, and a bag of necessities, she eventually reached the entrance.

“Okay. Now be a good girl and do your studies well, I’ll be visiting you whenever it’s possible and don’t engage in any conversations with suspicious and unknown people. Though it’s ok to talk to your friends, but be careful and stay safe. Got it?”

Her Brother patted her head and warned in a stern but a caring voice. he attempts at hiding it, but couldn’t shake the feeling that he is indeed going to miss his little sister.

“You too. Take care of Tattha okay?”

“I will”

She throws herself at her brother that caught him by Surprise which cause to nearly lose balance. Those gestures of an ingénue sibling brought him to the verge of shedding tears, out in the public.

“Come on now, you’re going to make me cry in any moment”

He declared, returning the hug. She squeezed him tighter, hugging the dear life out of her brother.

“hey, you’re going to be late”

He pulled away to fixed her hair before bidding a goodbye, now slowly disappeared among the crowd.She turned to the doors again, eyes shut and holding the notebook close to her chest, speaking to herself from thoughts.

As if a roving bird alights on a land of unfamiliarity, her admiration for every Pinnacle of the architectural effort that has put through to build this place has lingered in her mind. It was a one out of a thousand possibilities that how did a small villager like herself surmount through every complication. having not being able to consume such high-end resource materials that she used to distinguish in every hand of a scholar. What she had in possession was nothing but some books highlighting the ancient Sumerian hieroglyphics and old notes that was once left behind by her mother, who happen to convey an interest towards the Art of linguistics. Her brother however, Acknowledging her intentions, lent his support in many ways, either it is with providing finance for resource materials, or comfort her whenever he had the opportunity. She for the one, tactical, absorbing the essence of knowledge from every resource within her reach.

One may declare it is a miracle, but it was a solemnity of an ardours process. her profound hope of being a literate scholar of languages followed by greater number of difficult steps to traverse through will commence from this moment onwards.

Whilst stepping through the elegantly patterned floor, examining the surroundings, she found herself inside the Faculty of linguistics.

* * *

The complicated registration process, or should she name it as such, had taken stolen some of her stored energy for the day. Her mind speaks nonetheless, imprinting the idea of exploring inside the Akedemiya.

she ends up taking a stroll, with the notebook tightly pressed to her chest, scanning the area attentively all the while making an effort to not to trip over any object with her consciousness being carried away. The atmosphere holds such remarkable contrasts with her life in the village, however it is more livelier with the constant bustling and the countless voices of the locals.

The Razan Garden tightly occupies at this hour, with Students and researchers. Her strides were calm and collected, as if not bothered by the sudden tumult of waves reaching her ear just as the clapper strikes in the Old Akedemiya bell. It was their cue to leave, remaking the end of their studies for the day. She reaches for the Pond adored with white lotus, petals fallen asleep with the buds remain emerges. Her eyes then landed on a board that pins out notices and announcements for Akedemiya Students.

Curious, and she reads through some, pointing a finger on a certain notice.

“The Year End Evaluation – All Darshans – Theory And Practical research Examination – Final Results”

In a neatly made table, with the mention of the top three students in each Darshan, their overall performance and a picture of the candidate has displayed. her finger found the way to the Haravatat’ column, heart brimming with excitement, as she trailed along the name list in admiration. However, the feeling was fugitive, when she found no picture attached with top the student’ result. Only their name has revealed along with the total average.

That name rolls off her tongue in such a fluidity and smooth motion, if her glimmering hope of meeting the owner of that name will come to light one day during her time of studies, She would ask a whole bunch of questions that was written one by one on her notebook whenever she encounter a difficult subject matter at academics. A wild guess it can be, but also a logical possibility.

She had to excuse herself to look for a much quieter area when some students began to gather around the noticeboard, then ascends the spiraled floor tangled by the divine Arbor’s vine, to come across with a higher ground where the far sight of the luxuriant forests and the descending sun can be lucidly observed. As her eyes were met with the eventide scenery, her thoughts are instinctive.

“The forest spreads out a green Carpet,

beauty reveals, the world blossoms,

whispers of Padisarahs, blessings from Viparyas,

Forget not the Kalpalata and its Roaming roots.

step through the waters, witness yourself,

For you are my little princess, The thriving sprout of myriad Sands.”

She hums every word, in the same way she used to hear it once.

End notes : This is the beginning of the story I devoted for my favorite character. Alhaitham is a really hard one to understand, let alone writing a story for him is a challenge. Me and my sister has been designing an original character that matches for his personality for almost an year and finally I got the chance to start writing it out. The character’s personality and more info will be revealed as the story progresses. English is not my main language so spare me if I have done any mistakes with the grammar. Everyone does mistakes so it is best to try at first! and feel free to post your comments! I will edit and update the story frequently when it is possible.

Thank you!

References - "Tattha" (තාත්තා) refers to "father" in Sinhala, an Asian language speaks by in Sri Lankans. (அப்பா - Tamil translation)

(This is a work creation I’m doing in collaboration with my sister. all the in-game characters owned by Genshin except for my OCs in the cast)

[writerfae]

Hi! I hope you don't mind that I'm sending another ask before you could answer the last one, but I think you'll really like this one (I hope).

So I just read your last Heads up seven up, and:

Okay, okay! Let me give you a small book report, because this is so cool!

When i write one of my favorite parts is connecting things with small but important details. It's like creating a chain. And i see this part as something very simular.

“Maybe it is the curse of our family,” she mused, “that in our attempt to escape our own misery, we cast misery upon those we care about.”

Henry did this.

There's also a detail I won't spoil for others but that also connects here. (If you know you know)

(Full transparency, I don't know that much about the Alder king yet because Henry and Aiden have my heart and time, but if i were to guess that will also connect here)

BUT!

“Maybe”, Nyx continued. “if we would just work together instead of trying to solve all our problems alone, we could finally put an end to all that misery.”

Aiden stayed with Milan for years. Aiden went to look for his brother. Aiden has been doing what Nyx is saying here his whole life and this connection is why he's a great protagonist.

Or this is my interpretation, anywaysXD But even if I'm completely wrong, these elements do parallel echother, which is objectively great!

Hi! I don’t ever mind getting an ask from you, quite contrary ^^

I also love leaving small hints in my writing and connecting details! It’s really fun! Sometimes I even leave little hints without even realizing it, cause I’m so much into this story xD

You connected the dots very well here! Henry did indeed just what Nyx said. So did you-know-who ;) And so did Nyx’s mother.

But it is also true that the Alderking did something quite similar. Cause in the very beginning, it all started with the wish to bring his family closer together again.

I’ve been drawing little parallels from Henry to the Alderking right from the start. Though wildly different characters with different motivations and stories, they do have stuff in common. And I’m not just meaning the fact that they almost look alike.

The thing about this story is that protagonists and antagonists are not as different as they seem.

(For example, if just one detail about Henry’s backstory would change, if he was raised by his father instead of his mother, he would be standing on the antagonist’s side instead.)

There’s a lot of motivations and wishes and pain that all these people have in common.

With what Nyx says in the excerpt, she does what we both like to do: she draws a parallel. Between her family and Aiden’s. Between their individual misery.

And she is calling out Aiden, too. And with him, herself. Because while what you said is right: Aiden did stay with his father and he did go to look for his brother, he still tried to do all of that alone.

Because that’s a thing in his family and it is one in that of Nyx, too. They each think that in order to solve their misery, they have to do something about it all alone.

The Alderking didn’t try to find a solution with his siblings, he found one for them instead, without even asking. Henry didn’t talk to Aiden about their situation, he took it in his own hands by leaving.

Morena didn’t ask her family what they really needed, she made an assumption and stuck to it. And Aiden didn’t ask for help when he needed it, he tried to handle everything alone and solve everyone’s problems because he couldn’t solve his own.

Nyx didn’t really ask for help either, she thought she alone could stop her mother. But at this point of the story, now that she saw all her mother did and now that she saved Aiden, she realized that she can’t do this all alone. Neither of them can.

So it’s not just a statement she makes when she says maybe if they work together they’ll make it right. It’s an offer. One to put differences aside and finally start working together.

Also, it’s her sympathizing not just with Aiden’s situation, but with that of Henry, too. It’s her encouragement for Aiden to forgive his brother. Just like she learned to forgive her sister.

[n-brio]

✨About Me✨

Thanks to @somethingusefulfromflorida for tagging me!

NICKNAME: I've had a few over the years but none of them are current. I've been Lefty, Stan, Tuna, and a secret fourth one I won't tell you all because it's derived from my actual name.

SIGN: I have had a semi-active contempt for astrology ever since I politely sat through an ex whinging about how his friends all secretly hate him and it isn't fair and he doesn't even know what he did wrong etc. etc. nonstop for an hour over Skype way back when. "Why don't you just ask them what's going on?" "I can't do that. Pisces don't talk about their feelings." Take some responsibility for your choices!!

HEIGHT: 5'4"… and a half!

LAST GOOGLE SEARCH: "i hope somebody got fired for that blunder"

SONG STUCK IN YOUR HEAD?: Dusty Dunes Desert, Earthbound

FOLLOWERS: 27, and it is indeed that many and not a bugged/inflated count. I try not to let the fame get to me 😌

LUCKY NUMBER: I also don't believe in lucky numbers.

SLEEP: I shoot for eight hours, but I can survive as long as it's more than seven. Any less and I get real stupid (well, stupider) real fast. I used to fast for days with no problem, but I need sleep and I don't fuck around with that.

DREAM JOB: Writer or voice actor for a Crash Bandicoot cartoon… I know in my heart I have neither the talent nor connections to make it happen, but I can dream! 🥲

WEARING: Black-and-white floral print yoga pants, novelty T-shirt from Mother Bear's pizzeria in Bloomington, Indiana, a city I've never been to. Notable for its mascot which made my high school teachers do double takes and gives Tawna a run for her money:

FAVORITE SONGS: Too many to count, so I'll name just one from each of my playlists: Sloop John B by the Beach Boys Synchronicity I by The Police December, 1963 (Oh, What a Night) by the Four Seasons Animal Impulses by IAMX Useewa (Shut Up) by syudou Ekoroshia (Kill Command) by Masafumi Takada Cliff Town by Stewart Copeland Dive Remix by Mewmore

(Nobody is obligated to listen to these, just if you're curious. I'm not assigning anyone homework hahaha)

FAVORITE INSTRUMENT: Uhh, vocals? I took a couple years of choir and was the "weakest link", but I had fun… (´ᴗ` )

AESTHETIC: I'm not a fan of the "aesthetic"/"[x]core" style of self-expression. I think it's better to keep an open mind and try to find something interesting/appealing in all styles, images, art etc. You may notice patterns in the things I like/share, but I'm not fussed about putting names to them.

FAVORITE AUTHOR: I don't usually search out books by a specific author. I've recently enjoyed books by Khaled Hosseini (The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns), Gillian Flynn (Sharp Objects), Douglas Adams (The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul), and Tara Westover (Educated).

FAVORITE COLOR: Individual colors are less important than the color scheme they are a part of. Any color can be beautiful if it is paired with the right complement. That said, any scheme that stars jade or olive green, pastel pink, burgundy, dark brown, or black tends to win me over.

FAVORITE ANIMAL SOUNDS: Cat purrs. Frogs chirping on a summer night. Cicadas buzzing.

LAST SONG: The Night by Aurelio Voltaire. So I (like many others) learned about this song through the animated music video by Daria Cohen, but I just learned now that there's apparently an alternate version with an extra set of lyrics that the original lacks.

LAST SERIES: If you mean like TV, I don't really watch much nowadays. My sister and I are working through Earthbound and Psychonauts right now though (alternating between the two).

RANDOM: Anime Dr. Frankenstein lives in my room. I didn't draw him.

Tagging @frostconebite, @mikey-putrid, @lesserbilboy, @worpworp, @sleuth-hounds, @rhadinesthes and anyone else who wants to do it \o/

[theajjf]

Remembering Professor Jane Carr - by Professor Delina Fuchs

New Post has been published on https://www.ajjf.org/remembering-professor-jane-carr-by-professor-delina-fuchs/

Remembering Professor Jane Carr - by Professor Delina Fuchs

I was fortunate enough to meet Professor Jane Carr as a little girl in the 70’s, and even then, I could tell that she was an incredible martial artist! I remember looking up to her in awe, and in seeing that kind of exceptional skill in a woman when I was so young, during a time when there really weren’t that many female black belters on the mat, really made an impact on me.

Other than seeing her at events, my earliest clear memory with her was when she was a judge at one of my earliest Kata Contests. I was an orange belt, and the Kata Contest was held in a gym, using fold up gym mats on the basketball court. My tournament partner threw me Tomoe Nage, which, for those who aren’t students of the art, is a throw in which your partner plants their foot at your abdomen, sits down, and launches you over their head. It was my favorite throw as a Junior because we got to fly. Well, in THIS tournament, my partner threw me off the mat and onto the hardwood court.

Now, I tell this story because years later when I took my dojo 3rd degree black belt exam at the Redding Jujitsu Academy as her student, I couldn’t throw Obi Hane Goshi on my colleague, Sensei John Pfund to save my life. Sensei John is a grounded, strong, formidably-sized individual, and I was failing miserably…over…and over again… at throwing him this technique. I felt pretty defeated because I felt that it was one of my better throws, and of course, I wanted to make my Sensei proud. So after reflective discussion about my dojo exam, Professor Carr made it a point to share HER memory of the childhood Kata tournament that she judged so many years ago. She recalled my landing off the mat during a tie-breaker in my division, popping right up after the fall, standing on guard to face my partner, and continuing unfazed. She told me later that she was impressed with that and remembered thinking, “Hmmm, this one’s gonna go far.” That was her way. She was always encouraging, reminding me of who I was, and that I could draw on the inner strength that had gotten me this far.

Professor Carr told the story of a little girl at a Kata contest overcoming pain and potential embarrassment because SHE understood what it was like to overcome and excel in the face of adversity. Even in her 70’s and 80’s as she fought incredible joint and arthritis pain, she worked hard to stay in shape and remained active until the very end. I remember when she received her rank of Judan, 10th degree black belt; she showed me books on leadership that she was studying. This, and becoming more proficient at shooting pistols—which she did, in perfect Professor Carr style! She trained hard at Front Site and placed 2nd place in a shooting competition, literally blowing away the competition! This was a woman with incredibly high standards for herself, and indeed of all of her students, because she was continuously raising the bar for HERSELF!

She really did have high expectations, and I can say with experience, that she expected even more of her female students. I remember her telling me very seriously when I became her student, that “as a woman in the martial arts, we had to work twice as hard to be considered half as good.” That was okay by me because she wanted us to be the best example of what it was to be a practitioner of our art, and like her, do it with integrity and hard work. And this was possible because she was an attentive, superb instructor; an exemplary mentor; a woman of honor; and an exceptional friend.

With Professor Carr I, like her other students, felt seen. She took the time to get to know each one of her students, and know us well. There’s not a single one of us who didn’t feel her support and belief in us to our very core, and that’s because she had vested quality time with us and got to know each of us personally. I’m sure you will hear many of us say that she was more than a mentor, more than a Sensei.

She was a friend.

She was family.

Ohana–in the truest sense of the word.

She wasn’t all flowers and fluff, although she was a class act; she told it to you straight up, and you bore it because, dammit, she was right!

Professor Carr became my Sensei in 1996, but in the end we became more–each other’s potential escape destination during the devastating Carr and Camp fires of 2018, we were investment confidants, fellow gardeners and art collectors, women who experienced things only other women could understand, and passionate lovers of our beloved Danzan Ryu Jujitsu and our students. She was so much more than my feeble words can convey.

So, I’ll leave you with a Professor Carr quote that my students hear me say often. “Don’t focus on what you can’t do, focus on what you CAN do!”

I will always love you, Prof. Thank you for your many gifts.

  Respectfully submitted

Professor Delina Fuchs

[yazthebookish]

but the thing is that az didnt suddenly become interested in elain when nessian were revealed as mates. most scenes that hint at an interest from both characters happened way before cass and nestas bond was confirmed

Nessian did not become mates until ACOSF, but that doesn't mean the others didn't suspect in the past books because of how Cassian could not stay away from Nesta or his obvious instinct to protect her.

Offering Elain companionship does not mean he started to develop feeling for her then because hello? Mor exists? He was in love with Mor? something that is often erased?

For most of ACOMAF and ACOWAR, Azriel's attention was on Mor. Even in ACOFAS.

His attention was still on Mor even after meeting Elain in ACOMAF

Indeed, a glance over her shoulder revealed Azriel staring blatantly at the back view of it, Cassian and the stranger already too deep in conversation to notice what had drawn the spymaster’s attention. For a moment, the ravenous hunger on Azriel’s face made my stomach tighten.

I had to look away to keep from laughing. Az, to his credit, gave Mor a smile of thanks, a blush creeping over his cheeks, his hazel eyes fixed on her. I looked away at the heat, the yearning that filled them.

This was ACOFAS, like 9 months before the events of ACOSF. Elain was in the same room where Azriel was looking at Mor with yearning.

“Whenever Azriel makes his feelings clear, like he did with Eris … It’s stupid, I know. It’s so stupid and cruel that I do this, but … I slept with Helion just to remind Azriel … Gods, I can’t even say it. It sounds even worse saying it.”

So many things—so many things now made sense. How Mor had looked away from the heat in Azriel’s eyes. How she’d avoided that sort of romantic intimacy, but had been fine to defend him if she felt his physical or emotional well-being was at stake. Azriel loved her, of that I had no doubt.

It was obvious especially since early ACOWAR Cassian was into Nesta. He couldn't keep his distance from her. Everyone saw there was something going on between them, if Rhys suspected a mating bond then it's not far-fetched that Azriel did too.

I think Azriel started to move on from Mor after the High Lords meeting, and what made it easier? Having the next available option and seeing his other brothers with the two sisters probably popped up the idea that the third sister could be his too. This is why he questions it. Even if Nessian were not officially mates then, it was obvious.

We can agree to disagree, but to me I don't find that Azriel's feeling developed for Elain the moment he met her because he was in love with someone else. There was a scene where he had to draw sticks with Cassian because he wanted to go to the Hewn City than stay back and guard Elain and Velaris. Elain was in love with Graysen, towards the end of ACOWAR she was looking back at Graysen and still wearing his engagement ring.

Being decent to each other and becoming companions (that barely talk) does not mean they fell head over heels for each other the moment they met. And for two individuals that barely knew each other or even speak to each other, their feelings are going to develop based on... what exactly?

[the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo]

Fall Into You | Laszlo Kreizler x Reader

Alright my friends. Here is my latest piece of insanity.

It is completely raw and unedited. So, if there are a ton of mistakes, I apologize in advance.

What a whirlwind thing this was. I literally only planned to write the last little bit at the end, that was the entire premise and then 7000 more words came along with it.

-----

This is a partial crossover fic.

TFATWS | The Alienist | Dr. Strange | Loki | universe all mushed together in bits and pieces.

But mostly The Alienist.

Hopefully the characterizations feel okay. Dr. Kreizler and John Moore can be a bit tricky to write and I've never written them before. So, please bear with me on this.

Buckle up. It's going to be a doozy. Kinda.

-----

Word Count: 6,900 - ish

What happens when you wind up 124 years into the past and meet a relative of Baron Helmut Zemo's?

A lot.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was early evening and you were perched on one of Dr. Kreizler's fine couches, in front of the fireplace, reading a book.

You were waiting for Stevie to drop by and drag you to some musical street performance not terribly far from Dr. Kreizler's residence. Normally, you would have stayed hidden indoors, but you took a liking to the kid when you first met him, and decided you couldn't let him down.

Hopefully Stevie wouldn't drag you out too long, otherwise Dr. Kreizler would start to worry. Although, he would never outright admit to it, but it was the subtle things he did that indicated his concern. Or perhaps it was annoyance. That wouldn't surprise you either. You were loud and very talkative. He'd probably grateful to have to leave his house; so he can finally get some peace and quiet.

Dr. Kreizler always kept to himself and rarely made a display of his feelings to anyone, but you were a good friend of his in the short time you had come to know him. So, you got little peeks into what lay hidden away.

He was gracious enough to allow you stay in his home until you could figure out a way to get back to your own time. One minute you were talking to Wong inside Dr. Strange's sanctum in New York, and the next a portal opened up underneath you and you were falling.

After travelling through an empty void that seemed to go on forever, you finally exited through the other side, which landed you in front of a police precinct. You had looked around after picking yourself up and realized you were in quite the pickle. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this was not your New York.

People were starting to stare at as you took in your surroundings. You initially thought it was because you had randomly fallen out of the sky, but realization had dawned on you; it was because of your clothing.

Ah, yes. You suppose compared to what all the other women were wearing, you were a sight to behold. Jeans, a forest green blouse, and short brown leather jacket, would draw some attention, when all the other women were dressed so conservatively in dresses. You laughed nervously backing away from the small crowd on the sidewalk. You calmly but quickly darted over to a newsie holding up a paper for sale.

You paid the kid a dollar and snatched the paper out of his hand. Not paying attention in the least to his shouts of joy on making so much off of one measly paper, but you were too focused on finding out what time period you were in.

You caught the date at the top of the newspaper: April 1st, 1897.

April Fool's Day.

Typical, something like this would happen to you. Joke's on them, as someone is going to have a hell of time trying to figure out where you went. You're quite sure Wong was trying to sort through what happened and had already calling Strange.

Well, you hope he had.

You put down the paper and tried to think of what to do, but a small crowd of people were still stopped and whispering to each other, pointing in your general direction.

One man was gesturing in your direction and started shouting, but not at you.

"Hey Kreizler, this one looks like a crazy. Should probably haul her off to Bellevue!"

You raised your eyebrow at the man, but didn't say anything, instead choosing to turn and see who he was yelling at.

A very well dressed man wearing a bowler hat was walking down the steps of the police precinct in a rushed sort of manner. He had a cane with him, and it appeared his right arm was tucked against his body as if protecting it. A few steps behind him there was another man darting to catch up with him, also well dressed and carrying what seemed to be a sketchbook.

The guy on the street had yelled at the gentleman in the bowler hat again, which you had assumed at this point was Dr. Kreizler. As the two men reached the bottom of the steps and were about to step into their carriage, the incessant yelling had managed to grab Kreizler's attention. At least it seemed so, because the man with the cane had paused and turned his attention towards the direction of the yelling.

You could see from his body language he wasn't all that interested, but when his eye-line landed on you, he backed away from getting inside.

The other gentleman that was accompanying him, the one with the sketchbook, said something to him, but Dr. Kreizler just waved him off as he started to walk over to you.

Great.

You look over to the rude gentleman that had now drawn even more attention to you and gave him an unappreciative stare.

You steeled yourself, ready for whatever this stranger was going to say to you, but your guard had dropped slightly upon getting a better look at his face.

No way.

This was not possible.

The man that had come over to you was the spitting image of one genius, criminal mastermind and general pain in your ass, you knew all too well. One who's currently locked up in The Raft.

If it wasn't for the beard, you'd swear you were looking at Baron Helmut Zemo.

As Dr. Kreizler stopped a few feet from you, he tilted his head to the side and eyed you warily, but not unkindly.

That head tilt, a family trait for sure. Zemo had to be some distant relative of this man in some way, there's no chance they aren't with how closely the two resemble each other. She'd have to make a trip to The Raft and ask him about it sometime, if she ever got back home.

"My dear, you seem out of sorts. Are you alright?" the man inquired, gazing at the small gathering of people and then back to you.

"I kinda stick out like a sore thumb, yeah?" You laughed as you answer his question, peering down at your outfit.

"Quite," he replied.

You saw while he may be cautious around you, you've seem to grab his interest with the scrutiny and intensity of his gaze.

"If I may introduce myself, my name is Doctor Laszlo Kreizler," the gentleman stated.

Ah, so this was indeed the man who was being called out from the street. You noticed he didn't extend his hand in greeting, but then again perhaps it wasn't a pertinent gesture for the time period either. So, you didn't take offense to it.

Your eyeline moved behind Dr. Kreizler and could see his friend at the carriage watching with interest, but also growing impatience.

You gave a kind smile as you introduced yourself and added, "Thank you for humoring the nosy man over there, but I'm not in need of a doctor. I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your day."

"Not in the least. And I may be a doctor, but I am an alienist more specifically," Kreizler explained.

Your eyebrows shot into your forehead and then contemplated his title. An alienist? Where had you heard that before? If you remembered correctly, an alienist was someone who assessed individuals for competence?

Oh.

The shouty man had mentioned Bellevue. Okay, now you understood.

"An alienist! That term is...." you paused trying to think of a better way to phrase you response. "The term is outdated where I'm from. Instead we simply acknowledge your specific doctorate profession as psychologists, since the very definition of what you do is to study the mind and behavior of individuals," you answered, satisfied with your explanation.

"Outdated. How intriguing. Perhaps we could continue this conversation away from prying eyes and gossipy busy-bodies?" Kreizler asked.

You wouldn't be able to read it on his face, but you can tell you've piqued his interest even more so now with his body language. And his eyes had this sparkle in them as you spoke of his profession so specifically.

Though you felt you could trust this man, you couldn't take the chance that he might, in fact, lure you into his carriage and ship you off to the nearest mental institution, such as Bellevue Hospital.

You'd be lying if you weren't equally intrigued by this enigma of a man standing before you. The resemblance to Baron Zemo was uncanny, and that alone made you want to find out more about him; however, Zemo was not to be trusted as far as you could throw him. Though he did have his moments. You'd give him some credit. Doesn't mean distrustful behavior runs in the family, but it also could. It was a difficult decision.

Your eyes narrowed assessing Dr. Kreizler as you came to decision.

"Shouldn't you give me a mental health assessment test before asking a complete stranger to travel off to who knows where with you? Why shouldn't I be suspicious you aren't going to drop me off at the nearest institute? No offense," you replied warily.

"Thank you!" the man with the sketchbook at the carriage shouted at both you and Dr. Kreizler, clearly in agreement with your answer.

You snickered at his sarcastic reply, but attempted to cover your ever growing smile by coughing.

The corner of Dr. Kreizler's mouth ticked up in a smile as well.

"No my dear, if anything you've just proven you're at least slightly more sane than my counterpart, Mr. John Moore," Dr. Kreizler shook his head and jutted his thumb behind him.

"Heard that Laszlo!" Moore responded with indignation.

"That was the point John," Dr. Kreizler answered back with dry wit.

Yeah, she liked him already.

"Shall we?" Kreizler turned slightly to gesture to his carriage.

You sighed internally. Why the hell not? You had nothing better to do and no idea what your next move should be trying to get home. Dr. Kreizler would no doubt be curious about your attire and that alone with most likely bring up a slew of never ending questions. You'd have to be careful how to explain your situation and make sure what you revealed was limited, but truthful. You wanted to tell him the truth about where you were from, but you needed to word it in a way that doesn't make you out to be a crazy person, but present the information with facts and evidence that Dr. Kreizler could not refute. Luckily you had some tech with you that could prove your point rather efficiently should the need arise you convince him of what time period you come from in the future. 124 years it a length period of time. It would be difficult for anyone to accept your explanation, but Dr. Kreizler seemed to be different. Let's hope you aren't wrong about him.

"I accept your offer Dr. Kreizler, thank you," you spoke kindly.

You were formally introduced to Mr. Moore and to Stevie before getting in the carriage. Mr. Moore seemed uneasy, but went along with Dr. Kreizler's acceptance of you. He was a trusting friend of his, you could tell right away. And something told you, Dr. Kreizler was a tough nut to crack and didn't seem to be the type of person who might have very many. Only a close few.

"What made you decide to take Dr. Kreizler up on his offer so quickly," Moore asked standing outside the carriage as Stevie was getting the horses ready.

Dr. Kreizler had held the door open for you and waited patiently.

You looked at Dr. Kreizler before turning back to Mr. Moore, "You mean besides his sparkling personality?" you winked and got in the carriage.

John leaned into Kreizler before adjusting his hold on his sketchbook and climbing into the carriage himself.

"Oh, well I like her already Laszlo," he grinned incessantly and gave Kreizler a clap on the back.

You saw Dr. Kreizler bend his head down in amused exasperation as a small huff of laughter sounded with the movement. He sighed somewhat dramatically before getting in the carriage and closing the door.

"You know, I've never actually ridden in one of these before," you say slightly awed.

Both Moore and Kreizler gave you confusing looks before Dr. Kreizler used his cane to tap on the rear enclosure signaling Stevie to head home.

Home. Well, this should be interesting indeed.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You closed your book with a snap and slumped into the couch you were perched on. It had been six months, since that day. Six months, you've been trapped in this pocket of 1897.

You had reflected back on how well John and Dr. Kreizler had taken the explanation you were from the future. As you told your story, your only requirement was that they wait until the very end before asking any questions. That gave you the chance to be very methodical about how you explained the future and how it was you ended up in 1897, which to be fair, you don't know exactly how that portal opened still, but magic was involved to say the very least.

It was oddly reminiscent of when Loki used the space stone, which gave her pause. All the infinity stones had been destroyed, and yet you knew that there was an errant 2012 Loki running around the universe with one. It is plausible, he could factor into this, but how or why you, you have no idea.

After you had explained your fanatical circumstance, to help prove you weren't absolutely off your rocker and have Dr. Kreizler change his mind about you, you showed them your phone.

Yes, there may not be any service available, but you could still access all your photos and videos and holographic imagery, etc. That was what allowed John and Dr. Kreizler to accept your story; paired with your unique clothes; they had a surprisingly open mind. John had gaped like a fish for a good 10 minutes before Dr. Kreizler told him to get over it already. John was somewhat outraged that he wasn't more shocked by your existence. But like all things, Dr. Kreizler took everything in stride, which was quite a relief to you. He was incredibly understanding and offered a room in his home to you until you were able to get back to your own time. You made a promise to Dr. Kreizler that you would never lie to him, about anything. It was the least you could do since he opened up his home and essentially part of his life to you.

You understood why he was an expert in his field. His patience and intellect allowed him to be open-minded and grasp concepts others word merely scoff at. However, there was another side to that coin; he was also closed off, and could at times, be calculating and manipulative. Though, none of these traits were used in any nefarious manners, they were there all the same.

He reminded you of Zemo to be sure in this regard. Some personality traits apparently do get passed down through the generations. In some ways, after meeting Dr. Kreizler, you felt you knew Helmut Zemo a bit better. And somehow, you missed him. Not that you were ever particularly close to him, but the time you spent with him in Latvia with Sam and Bucky forever altered your opinion of him.

So while you've been living at Dr. Kreizler's residence, in your spare time, you had been working different avenues of how to achieve ways to get home. You couldn't just solely rely on your friends to get you out of this mess. So, while Dr. Kreizler was at work, you enlisted the help of Stevie to run down leads of potential scientist and gathering of general information of the time period to help you put together some sort of road map. None had turned out to be very promising.

You had, over time, gotten more acclimated to living in 1897, though you mostly refused to wear the clothing of the time period. John Moore would always comment about how you would draw attention in the public eye, should you dare to go out. But you refused to give in most of the time, saying that 1897 would just have to catch up to your fashion sense, and you weren't about to apologize for it. If you were going to be stuck here, you were going to be stuck here, comfortably. You fondly remember Dr. Kreizler's reaction. He seemed pleased, possibly proud of you in that moment. Probably because you had refused to conform to the times, and set your own rules to live by. Not giving in to anyone.

The question lingered, how exactly did you get away with living in this time without having to dress in the clothing of the period? Well, a friend of yours, Scott Lang, had gifted you a device that allowed you to chose one object to shrink and return to it's normal size. So, of course, since you traveled so often with the Sam, Bucky and the other Avengers, you chose your wardrobe. You were just thankful you had it on you already when you got dumped into that portal. So, essentially you had all your clothes with you, making things a bit easier.

Life was not fast paced here, which made things a bit difficult for you. You were used to always being on the go, another crisis to fight through, another area of the world that needed help. But here, here everything was, for the most part, quiet.

It drove you nuts sometimes. Made you antsy. You managed to weasel your way into helping John, Sara and Dr. Kreizler on one of their serial killer cases recently to pass the time. Dr. Kreizler was unhappy at first. You were able to prove your usefulness though with advanced techniques and theories on how to potentially catch the killer in question. Be that as it may, Dr. Kreizler still seemed grumpy, if that were the correct word to use, about you working on the case. You confronted him about it one evening, but he glossed over the whole thing. He was holding back, but what that was, you weren't sure. Maybe he still didn't fully trust you yet. It was a fair assumption, but he was always so hard to read. Though you've managed to get a few good laughs out of him from time to time. Those were the days that really made you smile. Seeing him happy, as most of the time he was always so guarded. It made you feel like you and Dr. Kreizler shared this little secret when no one else was around.

Dr. Kreizler let himself relax ever so slightly around you, but it was far and fleeting. On rare occasions. You savored all those memories and tucked them away. Everyone was so refined and conservative in their mannerisms. You missed just wanting to hug someone. You craved some sort of physical affection, and it was hard, realizing just how different the times were from the future. They weren't terrible by any means, but the social norms of the times had been trying on you, to say the very least. Dr. Kreizler, ever astute, had picked up on this.

He had been gracious enough to offer himself if you ever needed to hug someone. This had been roughly 4 months into your stay at Dr. Kreizler's. You both had gotten more comfortable around the other, and even had a routine of sorts. You had thanked him for his offer, and told him you would not abuse the privilege he had bestowed on you.

Something told her there was more to it, but you hadn't dwelled on it, you were simply appreciative of his friendship.

However more recently, it was more than just friendship you felt. You kept squashing your feelings down, telling yourself this was the worst possible time to develop feelings for someone. Especially someone like Dr. Kreizler. There would never be a happy ending. At some point, you would return home, and that would be that. But there was that nagging sensation in the back of your mind, reminding you, you might not ever get back home. You tried to reason to yourself that you were possibly transferring some of your fondness of Zemo to Dr. Kreizler because of how he reminds you of him. But then you were just lying to yourself. Dr. Kreizler was a person all on his own and one of a kind. You knew better, you were just fighting yourself tooth and nail to live in denial a bit longer.

Footsteps from the kitchen were headed in your direction knocking you out of your musings.

You twisted on the couch to see Dr. Kreizler had returned home from his institute.

"Dr. Kreizler! Good evening," you voiced into the low lit parlor room.

"Good evening to you as well, I trust your day was fruitful?" Dr. Kreizler inquired, coming to rest on the opposite end of the couch.

"It was, thank you. I was somewhat restless earlier, so I took it upon myself to work on the cryptogram the killer left his last victim, with the hopes of figuring out his next location before he strikes," you sheepishly stated.

Dr. Kreizler ruefully smiled at you and shook his head. At one time, he might have gotten upset, but he had been taking your antics more in stride, and you managed to be helpful providing much needed information. So, he'd act unhappy, but silently was thrilled.

"And did you uncover anything useful?" Kreizler queried, he got up from his seat and walked over to the chalk board.

"Not completely, I believe I've broken the code word and the book that the killer has been using to write his cryptograms, but I have yet to comb through all the evidence to gather the page numbers, line and word number to crack the full message. I planned on working on it when I got back with Stevie later this evening," you happily expressed while fidgeting with the watch on your wrist.

"Impressive work. And what book has our killer been using?" Kreizler asked, eyes still going over the work on the board.

"Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. You'd think we could have figured that one out sooner given our killer's eclectic methods of murdering people," you answered sarcastically.

Dr. Kreizler bent his knees in utter annoyance, "Of course it is. Of course. How ridiculous to have missed such an obvious choice."

You smiled knowingly. He was irritated he hadn't figured it out sooner.

A companionable silence continued for a few minutes after his outburst.

Dr. Kreizler was still staring at the board with mild interest when he spoke next, "May I ask you a personal question?"

You had just reached over to place the book on the coffee table next to you when he asked his question and you froze mid motion.

Dr. Kreizler generally didn't push too much into your personal life, so this was somewhat out of left field for him. Never-the-less, you recovered after a beat and placed the book on the table.

"Of-of course Dr. Kreizler. I told you I would always be truthful with you regarding anything. Please, go ahead," you answered, motioning for him to continue.

"Why do you always regard me as Dr. Kreizler and not by my first name?" he questioned softly, almost hesitantly.

This was not the question you thought he would ask. There were a million questions he could have chose, but it was this one he went with.

This really was personal.

You glanced down at your hands sitting in your lap as you pondered how to answer his questions. You could lie about it, and he'd be none the wiser, but it's not who you are. And you promised.

Dr. Kreizler went on to further express his inquiry with a bit more confidence, "You call John Moore by his first name and the same with Ms. Howard, including our other friends we work with, but not me. Why?"

You opened your mouth to answer him when the front door slammed open and Stevie came barging in.

"You ready?" he exclaimed loudly. Stevie was clearly excited at the prospect of showing off his musical talent. "Oh, excuse me Dr. Kreizler, I didn't realize you'd gotten home yet. Thought you were working late," Stevie took off his hat and looked sheepish as he apologized for the disruption in his home.

You sighed. This was your saving grace. You could probably make an excuse and make a run for it with Stevie. You mulled over what to do, battling with the decision.

"Hey Stevie. Nice to see you too! Go on outside, I'll be right there. I just need to put my coat on," you laugh at his enthusiasm.

He nodded at you and dashed back down the hallway and out the door. You could hear one last shout as he exited, "Okay, but don't be too long, we're going to be late!"

Dr. Kreizler gave a look of displeasure at Stevie's unrefined outburst, but didn't say anything as he knows his antics all too well from over the years.

You stood up grabbing Dr. Kreizler's attention.

"Walk me to the door?" you ask, jutting your head in the direction of where your coat hangs.

"Do you plan on providing me with an answer?" he kindly jabbed as he nodded his agreement to follow you out.

You outwardly sighed, trying to figure out how to best answer his question. As you both walked to the front door, you start to answer him.

"Okay, so I address you as Dr. Kreizler 33% of the time, because you deserve the respect that comes with that title. You went to school for many years, and you earned it. So, it's only fair to address you as such," you tell him confidently.

A completely reasonable and partial explanation, you thought.

You both reached the front door, and you grabbed your jacket. Dr. Kreizler, the gentleman that he is, assisted you in putting your coat on. You gave yourself a once over in the mirror, making sure you looked okay before heading out.

You caught Dr. Kreizler staring at you in the mirror as you adjusted a stray hair that had fallen onto your face.

"You look lovely," he quietly voiced.

You turned to face him as he had opened the door for you and stepped outside.

"Thank you," you said, a bit bashful by his sudden compliment.

His expression had gotten softer and his eyes were glowing in the evening lit night.

Your resolve was crumbling even more so now.

"And the other 67%?" Kreizler softly spoke, head cocked to the side.

"Hey - Miss! We need to be going!" Stevie cried.

You turned to Stevie and hollered, "One mo, Stevie! Don't lose your head!"

"I'm sorry I have to go otherwise Stevie is going to have a coronary," you apologized to Dr. Kreizler.

You walked down a few steps, but stopped. You couldn't not answer him.

You go up a step but not completely back to where you where standing in front of Dr. Kreizler. You inhaled a deep breath and exhaled before continuing, looking up to see Dr. Kreizler eyeing you with slight confusion and anticipation with your hesitance to answer his question in full.

"And the other 67% of the time, I call you Dr. Kreizler because..because," you drifted off closing your eyes. You open them again with quiet resolve shining through, finding your confidence. You take another step up to now stand just a foot away from where Dr. Kreizler was.

"Because, I love you Laszlo. And I use your professional title as a barrier, to - to remind myself I have boundaries. It's just easier to separate you this way or well, to keep myself living in denial," you quietly and defeatedly said, laying it all out for him.

You wanted to open your mouth to say something else to him, to let him know it was okay he didn't feel the same way, but you could never quite form the words that needed to come out.

The shock was written clearly on his face. You had completely gob-smacked this man. His eyes had widened considerably and his jaw had gone slack from your answer.

But he never said anything back. You weren't expecting him to.

So instead, you did what you did best. Ran.

"You've got your answer. I-I really have to go now, I'll see you later," you stuttered out, suddenly drained from your revelation.

You took one last glance at Dr. Kreizler before making a mad dash for it with Stevie.

You were gone before Dr. Kreizler recovered from what just happened. And you never got to see the expression on his face after.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[asterroidd]

tempt fortune

↬ Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

↬ Word count: 4.5k

↬ Warning/s: swearing, mentions of sex, alcohol, slight NSFW (?)

↬ Synopsis: Too deep in an argument with Hange in attempts to prove you are—in fact—not a virgin, you’ve accidentally lied blurted out that you and Levi are in a relationship.

↬ Notes: Tysm for the request anon! I had way too much fun with this prompt lol.

↬ Minors do not interact. Go away, shoo shoo!

8th prompt:  “I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé.”

   The night was murky and dark with only the shine of the moon serving as a way to illuminate the streets of the city. Trees stripped bare as a sign of the forthcoming change of seasons, and a milky white fog had encompassed the city’s canals and dark alleyways. The crisp, cold air makes the hair on your skin stood up and shiver despite the layers of clothing you wore.

    Though, that feeling will dissipate away as soon as the bitter taste of alcohol hits your taste buds and enter your system.

    Earlier that day, Hange and Petra had invited you to a night out to the local pub to wash away the fears and tension of being soldiers of the Survey Corps. A guilty pleasure of some sort, just a way to rid the jitters of being eaten by a titan outside the walls. Despite the three of you being veterans, neither of you could ever shake the feeling of death’s cold hands resting on top of your shoulder.

    That said, two of your best friends walked alongside you. Arms hooked with one another for warmth and for comfort. Soon enough, the three of you arrived at the destined place: the pub.

    There are a couple of tables already taken, but the place is not too full. Even with that, the pub is still quite energetic; with men hollering and throwing their heads back as they chat with one another, weak threats that are carelessly thrown around by drunk individuals looking for a mock fight, and of course the iconic clink of glasses against one another as toast.

    “What are we drinking tonight?” Petra asked. She claimed a seat at an empty table, in which you and Hanji followed suit.

    “Whiskey!” Hange announced to which brought a grin on your face.

    "Getting wasted, I see.“ You shrugged your jacket off and placed it neatly by your side. "Isn’t it Petra’s turn to treat us?”

    The female in question instantly whipped her head to face you, a shocked look evident on her face. “I don’t recall making such promises.”

    "You sure did!“ Hanji added. "We made a bet weeks ago. Debating whether or not Erwin grooms his eyebrows every morning.”

    "In which we won, by the way.“ you said with a smug look on your face. "The commander does indeed groom it and even has a special comb for it.”

     “Not fair!” Petra pouted, pushing her bottom lip out and giving Hange the puppy dog eyes in attempts to save her poor wallet. Which was futile, the brunette stuck her tongue out and shook her head. While Petra and Hange continued with their debacle, you took it upon yourself to call the attention of a barmaid. She gave you a beaming smile, her golden locks neatly tied into a bun and crow’s feet visible beneath her eyes. She approached the table wherein the three of you are situated.

   “Two bottles of whiskey and three mugs please,” you spoke, not even bothering to wait for her to speak up. She nodded before strolling towards the counter to prepare your order.

   Petra slumped her weight onto the table as she heaved a sigh in defeat. “Fine. It’s my treat tonight.”

   You and Hange cheered in delight, successfully evading a huge loss of money given that whiskey is quite expensive. The continuous catastrophic storms that beleaguered the farmlands had made an extensive disastrous effect on the supply of barley and wheat. Which, like a domino effect, limits the supply of whiskey within the walls. Increasing the price of the said beverage more than two-fold.

   It was a good thing that you put faith in your instincts and thus won the bet.

   “How’s the research going, Hanji?” Petra changed the topic.

   The brunette let out a drained sigh, “Levi had to kill Hughes.”

   “Hughes?” You piped in. “The eight-meter class aberrant titan we caught last time?”

   Hange nodded, “He was a good man. An honest man.” She spoke of the titan as if it was her long lost husband that died in a war.

   Then, she started blabbering on and on about the experiments she had done to the beast; piercing its eye to count the regeneration time, plucking one of its teeth out to see if it would disintegrate, and many more.

   You would’ve stopped her then and there if it weren’t for the barmaid approaching your table with a tray of glass and two bottles of whiskey. You internally cheered, Hange had told stories about Hughes a couple of times already that you basically had memorized it all.

  The three of you wasted no time in popping one of the bottles and pouring the bitter liquid into the cups.

  "To friendship. And condolences to Petra’s wallet.“ You raised your glass up to which the two mirrored. With one satisfying clink of the glass, you swallowed down its contents in one gulp. Your face contorting in an unattractive expression as the alcohol slid down your throat.

   "I was planning to buy a book that I wanted. But it looks like it would have to wait for the time being,” Petra said, pouring another glass of whiskey.

  "Pshh,“ your brunette friend snorted. "You have Oluo to buy anything you want.”

    Instantly, blood rushed to Petra’s face upon hearing the male’s name.

    You joined in the teasing. “Oh yeah. You two are a thing. Now, aren’t you?” 

   “We’re not!” your friend slammed her fists on the wooden table. “We’re just friends!”

   “Oh really?” Hange swished the whiskey around the glass. “That’s not what I heard the other night.”

   She leaned in close to whisper. “I heard moans coming out of his room.”

   Petra sucked in a breath in shock, her eyes widening in shock and mouth slightly agape. “I- it’s not…it’s–” she said but she was a stuttering mess.

   “Already in that stage, I see.” You playfully nudged her. It was an ongoing comical joke in the base that Oluo and Petra are in a romantic relationship after the male flat out publicly confessed to her one night in the mess hall. The room immediately erupted in a mess as howls and catcalls are heard. Ever since then, both of them are continuously teased.

    “Say, (____)…” Hange trailed off, her fingers curling around the shot glass. Gulping the remaining liquid down her throat before continuing, “Are you a virgin?”

    You let out an inhumane sound in shock. Borderline choking as you tried to swallow down the whiskey caught in your throat. Petra saw your discomfort in which she assisted you by lightly patting you on the back as you coughed air out.

   “What kind of question is that?” you said after your body stopped jerking.

   Hanji gave you a lop-sided smile. “Just that we are nearing our thirties. Who knows when we’ll breathe our final breath? The least we could do is experience getting laid before that happens.”

   “Well, are you a virgin?” You answered with a question.

   Hange rests her chin on top of her open palm. “Nope, though it was a one night stand.”

   You sweat buckets, you never had someone popped your cherry before, let alone a serious relationship that is romantic.

   Are you the only one left that hasn’t got laid?

   But it’s not your fault! You were just too caught up with military services that love never crossed your mind

   Or did it?

   Your mind wanders off to daydream about the small and petty crush you have with a certain captain.

    There is just something so captivating about the way his silver eyes met yours the first time you saw him. How his raven hair looks neat every time and you could only guess how soft it would be to touch. Not to mention his impeccable skill with the 3dmg maneuver gear and its blades.

   Yes, it was none other than Captain Levi himself. But it was all just a petty crush! A small rosebud of admiration that had blossomed as you fought alongside the male and got to know him better each passing day.

    “Well?” Hange snapped you out of your thoughts. “Have you or have you not gotten laid?”

    You cleared your throat, you didn’t want to look foolish in front of your friends. Given that the two of them had their own fair share of experience in the topic. They would tease the hell out of you and soon enough, the whole base would do as well.

   Lieutenant (____), the virgin soldier. You don’t want things to be that way.

    “O-of course I did,” you puffed your chest out more to elicit fake confidence.

   Petra cooed, “Really? With who?”

   You thought of the closest male in your personal bubble. “Levi!”

   To say that the two were shocked was an understatement. They were both flabbergasted. Never in a million years would they expect that you and Levi had a relationship, let alone sexual intercourse. The two, in fact, never saw him and you close enough that would draw out a romantic vibe. So they are completely blown away and confused at the same time.

   “Bullshit,” Hange said. “Shorty is one lonely man that has no love in his system.”

   “I-is too!” you stuttered out, hand flailing around in panic. “In fact, he is my fiancé.”

   Okay, that might be a stretch.

   Petra slammed her hands against the table to which garnered half of the customers’ attention. “Get out! No way!”

   “Yes way!” You countered. So far so good, now all you had to do is convince them that you and Levi are actually a thing. Which was easier said than done since you would need to bribe or annoy the male enough that he would give in to your pleas.

   Though, Hange is still unimpressed as evident with her pouting lips and furrowed eyebrows. “Prove it then, show us that the shorty and you are actually a thing. I would bet half of my salary this month if you could show us that Levi is capable of love.”

   “Bring it on four-eyes!”

   And so begins the downfall of your life.

    Levi had a sick feeling in his gut; a hunch that for the next few hours, he would have a shitty day. However, he couldn’t say for sure what would cause such disturbance to his day. His gut feelings were never wrong, it was an innate sense that he had ever since he lived in the Underground. So he was sure something would happen, he’d have to be more careful.

    That said, he instantly regretted the way he jinxed himself.

   There you are, standing outside of his office at two in the morning. Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt, constantly shifting your weight from one foot to another as you refuse to make eye contact with Levi. Bashful eyes kept staring down at your feet whilst you find the words to make one coherent sentence.

   “I have something important to discuss with you,” you murmured to which Levi quirked a brow. What did you want now that it couldn’t wait until the sun rose up in the sky?

   The male crossed his arms across his chest, leaning his weight on the doorway. “What is it?”

   “Please pretend to be my lover.”

   Levi blinked, his eyes widening and mouth hanging open slightly. Though, he regained back his usual composure in a split second. He narrowed his eyes at you.

   You want him to do what now? Is this some kind of prank or sick joke that you thought of?

   Taking note of his silence, you decided to explain to him your situation that needs his immediate cooperation and attention.

   “You see…” you sucked in a breath. “I kind of lied to Hange and Petra that I got laid and it was you who actually took my virginity. Hange didn’t believe a word that I said and uhh-… Things got out of hand and I told them I was your fiancé.”

   What?

   Levi sighed through his nose, an exasperated expression on his face. “So this is what it’s all about.”

   “Yes. And now I need you to play along and pretend to be my significant other.”

   The male scrunched his face up in disgust, “I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé.”

   You fought back a sob, “Please. I beg of you, Levi.”

   “No.” Levi shook his head. “No way. Don’t drag me in your own bullshit.”

   The male was about to close his door but you grabbed him by his sleeve. Clutching on it until your knuckles turned white. You couldn’t just let him shut you out without agreeing to play along. You’d do whatever it takes just to get Levi to pretend to be your lover.

  "I’ll buy you the expensive black tea.“

   His ears twitched, now that piqued Levi’s interest. You smirked as he froze, you knew that he has a soft spot for tea. And tasty, expensive ones at that matter.

    Levi chewed on his bottom lip while he pondered over his next words. The male was supposed to be keeping his hands busy by signing and writing the documents that started to pile high up on top of his desk due to Hanji dumping her workload on him. Levi sighed through his nose, fingers massaging his temple. "How long?”

   “What?” You tilted your head to the side.

   “Tch.” Levi clicked his tongue. “How long do I need to pretend to be your lover?”

   Levi swore that the minute he let go of those words, stars danced in your eyes.

  "We just need to convince the others.“

  "And then?” He asked.

  "And then? What. . ?“

  Levi internally groaned and rolled his eyes. Was it really worth the risk?

  "Are you expecting that we keep the act up?”

  Oh, so that is what he meant by it.

  "Well,“ you rubbed your chin with your fingers in deep thought. "We could stop the acting after a few weeks? We’ll just tell them we’re too busy and shit that we couldn’t maintain the relationship anymore.”

  Levi shrugged. “Sounds good enough to me.”

  You squealed in delight as you threw your arms around his neck, showering him with gratitude and compliments.

   Looks like black tea does the trick.

   The sun already rose from its slumber, showering the lands with its soft rays of light. Levi had a scowl ever-present on his face as soon as he stepped out of his office room. He knew that something was wrong. Something out of place as he sensed the change in the atmosphere of the base that would normally be heavy and tense.

  Still, he persisted on shrugging the thought off and continued with his daily morning routine: which is to quickly brew a cup of tea before the mess hall becomes full with people. Levi walked down the halls, a handful of soldiers are already awake and fully clothed with the Survey Corps uniform. They gave him one brief and firm salute as he passed by them. Though, Levi swore that he could hear them whispering amongst themselves.

  When the male arrived at the mess hall, he was surprised to see most of the superiors—along with his squad—are mingling with one another at a table. His mind screamed danger, telling his body to turn around and hide in the comforts of his office. However, Levi wasn’t going to give up his morning cup of tea just because he felt uneasy.

   He slid inside like a shadow, going unnoticed by most of his friends that was too energetic today for his tastes. They were chatting loudly about miniscule things; the weather, training later on the day, gear inspection that needs to be done, and the like.

   Levi wished that he would be overlooked, that their banter would be noisy enough that he could peacefully grab a cup of tea and run back to his office. Though that wishful thinking of his soon come crashing down when Hange’s cheery voice called out to him.

  “Mornin’ shorty! Come sit here beside us! We already have tea brewed for you!”

  Levi internally groaned, gripping the empty cup in his hands tighter. The brunette just had to have an innate sense in locating where Levi is. Reluctantly, he left the porcelain behind and walked towards the table. You were nowhere to be found, which was a huge relief for him since Levi doesn’t want to see your face first thing in the morning.

  “What’s with the shit-eating grin?” he took a seat beside Erwin.

  “(____) told me something important last night,” Hange wiggled her shoulders.

  He narrowed his eyes at her, “What do you mean?”

  Levi heard Erwin laughing beside him, the blond’s shoulders bouncing up and down. He then placed one palm on top of Levi’s shoulder.

  “Congratulations, Levi! Didn’t knew you were engaged.“

  Hold the fuck up. What?

  Then it dawned on him. He remembered you outside his office in the wee hours of the morning, begging him to play along with your petty bullshit just for the sake of preserving your dignity among your peers.

  Levi couldn’t believe that he would start acting right away. He haven’t had a sip of his morning tea. 

  “Yeah,” he said, eyeing the cup of tea that Eld placed in front of him. Levi doubts that any of them could perfectly brew tea that would meet his standards.

  “What?” Oluo joined in the conversation. “So it’s true then?”

  Levi grumbled, taking a sip of the leaf infused hot liquid. He relished the dark and malty taste of it sliding down his esophagus before responding. “Any problem with that?”

  The male shifted in his seat, “N-no, sir… Just that I am shocked.”

  “We all are,” Erwin chuckled. “We never expected it.”

  “You are a man of a few words, after all.” Petra added. “Still, we are happy for you, captain!”

  Levi stayed silent, if he knew that by accepting your bribery would open Pandora’s box of headache and irritation in his life, then he wouldn’t have agreed to it. Still, he was hopeful that only those close to him are informed of the arrangement. That you wouldn’t go so far as to spread the news around the base. 

  Scratch that. Everyone knew that Levi is your fiancé.

  By the time midday rolled around, Levi was the center of attention much to his displeasure. Of all the years he had served in the military, never did he expect that one small arrangement done at two a.m. would have dire consequences.

  All for the black tea. Levi chanted in his mind. Dealing with this bullshit for a box full of expensive black tea.

  Whispers could be heard, though he paid no attention to it, dead set on finding you to ask what in the ever-loving fuck is going through your brain for letting everyone know.

  Ah, speak of the devil. There you are, by the horses’ stables. Your hands reaching up to caress the nose of your horse, a giggle escaping your lips as its tongue darted out to tickle you.

  “(____),” he called out.

  You whipped your head around to the sound. Then your smile grew wider as you saw it was Levi.

  “Hey!” you replied while wiping your wet hand on a towel. “What’s up?”

  The male groaned, you are too casual about it.

  “Care to explain why does everyone in the base knew that we are engaged?” The word rolled off his tongue like venom. “I thought it was only Hanji and Petra?”

  Your smile wavered down, replaced by a bashful one. “Well uhh-…you see. Hanji kind of started the rumors which quickly spread like wildfire.”

  “So it’s not my fault,” you threw your hands up.

  Levi sighed exasperatedly. He should’ve known that the source would be four eyes. The brunette had caused more trouble than Levi could count within his fingers. He recounted countless times where she knocked on death’s door willingly when Hange placed her head inside a titan’s mouth. Who does that?

   A maniac with a death wish, and that is what Hange is.

  “Never mind that,” you trailed off, motioning the male to come closer. He rolled his eyes before obliging. “I have a plan that could finally get Hange off the radar,” you continued.

  “And that would be?”

  You looked side by side, eyes scanning the surroundings in case someone is eavesdropping. Once you considered the coast was clear, you told Levi the plan. “Hanji would be dropping off a stack of paperwork later this evening.”

  Levi doesn’t already like where this is going.

  “We could pretend to have sex in your office, loud enough for her to hear it. That for sure would convince her.”

  You wanted to do what now?

  “Wait, hold on.” Levi shook his head, slowly trying to digest your words. “You want us to have sex?”

  “We’re not really going to do it!” you slapped his shoulder blades. “Just create some noise and thuds here and there to make it seem like we are doing it.”

  The male internally groaned before hesitantly agreeing with your plan. If it means that this stupid fabrication of a relationship would be done, he’d follow suit.

  You could hear the loud pounding of your heart inside your ribcage as you sat on one of the chairs in Levi’s office. Patiently, waiting for the fated moment where Hange would be knocking on the door. Butterflies flew around in your stomach, you couldn’t believe that Levi would actually cooperate with the stupid plan you had just conjured up at a moment’s notice.

  The thought of him moaning and grunting made your core burn with desire. As much as you want to calm yourself, you couldn’t help but stir up images and scenes in your mind as to how Levi would look like while having sex. You don’t know which was a better view: him on top of you or you riding him.

  Heat rushed to your cheeks at the thought. Why does he have to be so goddamn sexy that you couldn’t resist the man?

  “Oi,” Levi called out to you. Though, his eyes never left the paper in his hands as he scanned it. “Quiet down will you? Your foot tapping against the floor irritates me.”

  Oh, it was a mindless action of yours when you get too nervous. By bouncing your legs up and down, it helps you calm down and ignore the growing pit of anxiety in your stomach. Nonetheless, you mumbled a quick apology to the male then resorted to fumbling with the collars of your uniform.

  Soon enough, you heard the soft humming of Hange outside, her footsteps increasing in sound as she draws near the door. You and Levi looked at each other, it was showtime.

  You abruptly stood up, arms flailing around as you glanced between the male and the door. Wait, what do you need to do again? And why is Levi still sitting in his chair and not doing anything?

  “Levaii!” Hange knocked. “I got more paperwork for you!”

  The doorknob rattled, but you instantly had the metal in your grasp in attempts to keep the female out of the room.

  “Huh…?” you could hear Hange utter. “Levi?”

  In a panicked state, your mind blanked out as words fail to escape your lips. You shot a pleading look to Levi, to which he rose a brow.

  Help me you bitch! You mouthed.

  He shot you a confused look. It’s your plan, do it, the male mouthed back.

  You gulped down your saliva, shaky hands gripping the doorknob tighter as the brunette jostle it. Time seemed to stop as you suddenly remember one hole in the plan. One important thing that you have overlooked that could potentially blow your cover.

  You don’t know how to moan.

   A soft whine emanated from your throat. The things you have to do just to preserve your dignity.

   “DON’T COME IN! WE’RE uh-… WE’RE HAVING SEX!” you shouted on top of your lungs, too distressed to rethink your words all over again. But now it was too late.

  “W-what?” Hange’s voice was muffled by the wooden door.

   “Levi. Moan. Now.” You whispered, practically begging the male for his help.

   “Why do I have to moan?” he stood up and made his way around the desk to approach you.

   “JUST-… Just create one sexual sound! A grunt, a moan, a whine! I don’t care. Just make a sound.”

   Levi shot you an irked expression, his nose crinkling up. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to moan (unlike a certain someone), but because he had the initial thought that you would be moaning and Levi would be just hitting the wooden desk over and over again to elicit sex noises. Still, he felt his heart strings being pulled as he looked at your eyes with tears threatening to fall out of them. Your tearducts filled to the brim with the salty liquid. Levi would be a good guy for once, right? 

    He would surely regret his future actions. Big time.

   With a sigh, the male pulled you along with him to the couch. His hands guiding your hips to sit on top of his lap whilst he smashed his lips with yours. Air got caught in your throat as Levi’s hands roamed around—exploring every inch of your body—while his mouth moved in attempts to get yours to move also. You never expected that he would be pressing his lips against yours in a heated dance—a wet one at that matter. Levi’s tongue kept darting and swiping at your bottom lip, which was an oddly delightful sensation that it makes you want to—

  “Hngghh…”

  Moan.

  Your hands curled up, clutching Levi’s shirt and wrinkling it up in the process. Pleasure clouded your mind as hormones took over your system. Testing the waters, you opened your mouth—just a slight—so that his pink muscle could enter your wet cavern. And heavens above, it was such a blissful experience.

  Levi exhaled into the kiss to which the air slightly ticked your cheeks. He used one hand to bring your head closer to his so that he could taste more of you, while the other started peeling the jacket off of you, going just past your shoulder blades. A quiet moan slipped past your lips once again.

  “Okay, I call bullshit. I am entering,” Hange announced, prying open the doors only to gasp loudly upon seeing the scene before her. “OH. YOU WERE SERIOUS?”

  Levi broke away to glare at the brunette, “Tch. Do you mind? Four eyes?”

   You are in such a daze that you find yourself staring at Levi’s lips. In that brief moment, you already missed the feeling of his mouth against yours. 

   The female blinked, too stunned as she stared at the both of you. One powerless lieutenant, with your first few buttons undone and jacket slipping down, sitting on Levi’s lap. Your lower area flush against the male’s ever-growing erection. Not to mention the bewildered expression that you have with a lewd undertone. Hange swore that she saw a string of saliva between yours and Levi’s lips.

   “Ah yes. I’ll just place these here, no biggie. Hehe.” The brunette let out an awkward laugh, placing the stacks of paper in the corner of the room. “Have fun you two!”

  That said, Hange left the room. Her steps were heavy against the cobblestone floor as she rushed away from the vicinity. A grin on her face as she thought of spreading the news that you and Levi are doing at the moment in his room. Not even minding that she lost the bet with you since you had proved to her that indeed the captain is capable of love. A juicy information such as this is worth half of her salary for the month.

   Levi brought your attention to him by kissing you once again. This time, with more force as he pried your mouth open once again with his tongue alone. It was a slippery battle; one-sided, in fact, considering that you weren’t fighting back. You simply let him wrestle with your tongue, yours and his saliva mixing in the process.

  Damn, you really couldn’t hold your moan in this time.

  “Would you look at that?” Levi pulled away. “You know how to moan, after all.”

  You swore, the tips of his lips curled upwards in a small smirk and there was a dark glint in his eyes.

  “Wh-Wha—” you were a loss for words. “What did you—…What was that?”

  “It’s a kiss, dumbass.”

  “That’s not what I meant! Y-your tongue—”

  He rose a brow at you. “What about it?”

  You sealed your mouth shut, heat rushing to your face in embarrassment. “Just… just don’t do that again.”

  Levi kept a firm grip on your waist as you wriggled. “Shut up, you obviously liked it. You even opened your mouth.”

  “Did not!”

  “Then why did you moaned into the kiss?”

  You suck in a breath, cat catching your tongue.

  “Though so…” he murmured, diving into your neck to pepper it with light kisses. Head too filled with pleasure, you gripped his shirt in your closed fists as you let out one shaky breath. It takes all of your nerves just to swallow that one moan threatening to come out.

  “Hng- Levi. You could stop now, Hange saw us already.”

  He hummed, pulling back slightly to gaze into your eyes. There was a hint of lust hidden within his silver orbs. You gulped, finding yourself wrapped around his fingers.

   “Why won’t we make your lie come true?” Levi sunk his teeth in your neck.

   Guess who is getting laid tonight.

[kmclaude]

Forgive me Father, I have no awful headcanons for you, only a general question on comic making. How do you do it, writing-wise/how do you decide what points go where, how do you plot it out (or do you have any resources on the writing aspect that you find useful?) Not to get too bogged down in details, but I attended a writer’s workshop and the author in residence suggested I transfer my wordy sci-fi WIP into graphic novel script, as it might work better. (I do draw, but I don’t know if I have it in me to draw a whole comic—characters in motion? Doing things? With backgrounds? How dare, why can’t everyone just stand around looking pretty)

I was interested but it quickly turned into a lot of internal screaming as I tried to figure out how to compress the hell out of it, since novels are free to do a lot more internal monologuing and such compared to a comic format (to say nothing of trying to write a script without seeing how the panels lay out—just for my own sake, I might have to do both concurrently.)

As an aside, to get a feel for graphic novels I was rereading 99RM and was reminded of how great it was—tightly plotted, intriguing, and anything to do with Ashmedai was just beautifully drawn. I need more Monsignor Tiefer and something something there are parallels between Jehan and Daniel in my head and I don’t know if they make sense but it works for me. (As an aside, I liked the emphasis on atonement being more than just the word sorry, but acknowledgment you did wrong and an attempt to remedy it—I don’t know why that spoke to me the way that it did.)

I thought Tumblr had a word count limit for asks but so far it has offered zero resistance, oh well. I don’t have much else to say but on the topic of 99RM, Adam getting under Monsignor’s skin is amazing, 10/10 (about the Pride picture earlier)

wow tumblr got rid of the markdown editor! or at least in asks which means the new editor probably has no markdown....god i hate this site! anyway...

Totally! So first, giant thank you for the compliments! Second, I have a few questions in turn for you before I dive into a sort of answer, since I can give some advice to your questions in general but it also sounds like you have a specific conundrum on your hands.

My questions to your specific situation are:

did the author give any reason for recommending a, in your words, "wordy" story be turned into a graphic novel?

is the story you're writing more, like you said, "internal monologuing"? action packed? where do the visuals come from?

do you WANT it to be a comic? furthermore, do you want it to be a comic you then must turn around and draw? or would you be interested in writing for comics as a comic writer to have your words turned into art?

With those questions in mind, let me jump into the questions you posed me!

Let me start with a confession...

I've said this before but let me say it again: Ninety-Nine Righteous Men was not originally a comic — it was a feature-length screenplay! And furthermore, it was written for a class so it got workshopped again and again to tighten the plot by a classroom of other nerds — so as kind as your compliments are, I'm giving credit where credit is due as that was not just a solo ship sailing on the sea. On top of that, it got adapted (by me) into a comic for my thesis, so my advisor also helped me make it translate or "read" well given I was director, actor, set designer, writer, editor, SFX guy, etc. all in one. And it was a huge help to have someone say "there is no way you can go blow by blow from script to comic: you need to make edits!" For instance, two scenes got compressed to simple dialogue overlaid on the splashpage of Ashmedai raping Caleb (with an insert panel of Adam and Daniel talking the next day.) What had been probably at least 5 pages became 1.

Additionally, I don't consider myself a strong plotter. That said, I found learning to write for film made the plotting process finally make some damn sense since the old plot diagram we all got taught in grammar school English never made sense as a reader and definitely made 0 sense as a writer — for me, for some reason, the breakdown of 25-50-25 (approx. 25 pages for act 1, 50 for act 2 split into 2 parts of 25 each, 25 pages for act 3) and the breaking down of the beats (the act turning points, the mid points, the low point) helped give me a structure that just "draw a mountain, rising action, climax is there, figure it out" never did. Maybe the plot diagram is visually too linear when stories have ebb and flow? I don't know. But it never clicked until screenwriting. So that's where I am coming from. YMMV.

I should also state that there's Official Ways To Write Comic Scripts to Be Drawn By An Artist (Especially If You Work For A Real Publisher As a Writer) and there's What Works For You/Your Team. I don't give a rat's ass about the former (and as an artist, I kind of hate panel by panel breakdowns like you see there) so I'm pretty much entirely writing on the latter here. I don't give a good god damn about official ways of doing anything: what works for you to get it done is what matters.

What Goes Where?

Like I said, 99RM was a screenplay so it follows, beat-wise, the 3-act screenplay structure (hell, it's probably more accurate to say it follows the act 1/act 2A/act 2B/act 3 structure.) So there was the story idea or concept that then got applied to those story beats associated with the structure, and from there came the Scene-by-scene Breakdown (or Expanded Scene Breakdown) which basically is an outline of beats broken down into individual scenes in short prose form so you get an overview of what happens, can see pacing, etc. In the resources at the end I put some links that give information on the whole story beat thing.

(As an aside: for all my short comics, I don't bother with all that, frankly. I usually have an image or a concept or a bit of writing — usually dialogue or monologue, sometimes a concrete scene — that I pick at and pick at in a little sketchbook, going back and forth between writing and thumbnail sketches of the page. Or I just go by the seat of my pants and bullshit my way through. Either or. Those in many ways are a bit more like poems, in my mind: they are images, they are snapshots, they are feelings that I'm capturing in a few panels. Think doing mental math rather than writing out geometric proofs, yanno?)

Personally, I tend to lean on dialogue as it comes easier for me (it's probably why I'm so drawn to screenwriting!) so for me, if I were to do another longform GN, I'd probably take my general "uhhhhhh I have an idea and some beats maybe so I guess this should happen this way?" outline and start breaking it down scene by scene (I tend to write down scenes or scene sketches in that "uhhhh?" outline anyway LOL) and then figure out basic dialogue and action beats — in short, I'd kind of do the work of writing a screenplay without necessarily going full screenplay format (though I did find the format gave me an idea of timing/pacing, as 1 page of formatted script is about equal to 1 minute of screentime, and gave me room to sketch thumbnails or make edits on the large margins!) If you're not a monologue/soliloque/dialogue/speech person and more an image and description person, you may lean more into visuals and scenes that cut to each other.

Either way this of course introduces the elephant in the panel: art! How do you choose what to draw?

The answer is, well, it depends! The freedom of comics is if you can imagine it, you can make it happen. You have the freedoms (and audio limitations) of a truly silent film with none of the physical limitations. Your words can move in real time with the images or they can be a narrative related to the scene or they could be nonsequitors entirely! The better question is how do you think? Do you need all the words and action written first before you break down the visuals? Do you need a panel by panel breakdown to be happy, or can you freewheel and translate from word and general outlines to thumbnails? What suits you? I really cannot answer this because I think when it comes to what goes where with regard to art, it's a bit of "how do you process visuals" and also a bit of "who's drawing this?" — effectively, who is the interpreter for the exact thing you are writing? Is it you or someone else? If it's you, would you benefit from a barebones script alongside thumbnailed paneling? Would you be served by a barebones script, then thumbnails, then a new script that includes panel and page breakdowns? What frees you up to do what you need to do to tell your story?

If I'm being honest, I don't necessarily worry about panels or what something will look like necessarily until I'm done writing. I may have an image that I clearly state needs to happen. I may even have a sequence of panels that I want to see and I do indeed sketch that out and make note of it in my script. But exactly how things will be laid out, paneled, situated? That could change up until I've sketched my final pencils in CSP (but I am writer and artist so admittedly I get that luxury.)

How do I compress from novel to comic?

Honest answer? You don't. Not really. You adapt from one to another. It's more a translation. Something that would take forever to write may take 1 page in a comic or may take a whole issue.

I'm going to pick on Victor Hugo. Victor Hugo spent a whole-ass book in Notre-Dame de Paris talking about a bird's eye view of Paris and other medieval architecture boring stuff, with I guess some foreshadowing with Montfaucon. Who cares. Not me. I like story. Anyway. When we translate that book to a movie any of the billion times someone's done that, we don't spend a billion years talking at length about medieval Paris. There's no great monologuing about the gibbet or whatever: you get to have some establishing shots, maybe a musical number, and then you move tf on. Because it's a movie, right? Your visuals are right there. We can see medieval Paris. We can see the cathedral. We can see the gibbet. We don't need a whole book: it's visually right there. Same with a comic: you may need many paragraphs to describe, say, a space station off of Sirius and one panel to show it.

On the flip side, you may take one line, maybe two, to say a character keyed in the special code to activate the holodeck; depending on the visual pacing, that could be a whole page of panels (are we trying to stretch time? slow it down? what are we emphasizing?) A character gives a sigh of relief — one line of text, yeah? That could be a frozen panel while a conversation continues on or that could be two (or more!) panels, similar to the direction [a beat] in screenwriting.

Sorry there's not a super easy answer there to the question of compression: it's a lot more of a tug, a push-pull, that depends on what you're conveying.

So Do I Have It In Me to Write & Draw a GN?

The only way you'll know is by doing. Scary, right? The thing is, you don't necessarily need to be an animation king or God's gift to background artists to draw a comic.

Hell, I hate backgrounds. I still remember sitting across from my friend who said "Claude you really need to draw an establishing exterior of the church at some point" and me being like "why do you hate me specifically" because drawing architecture? Again? I already drew the interior of the church altar ONCE, that should be enough, right? But I did draw an exterior of the church. Sorta. More like the top steeple. Enough to suggest what I needed to suggest to give the audience a better sense of place without me absolutely losing my gourd trying to render something out of my wheelhouse at the time.

And that's kinda the ticket, I think. Not everyone's a master draftsman. Not everyone has all the skills in every area. And regardless, from page one to page one hundred, your skills will improve. That's all part of it — and in the meantime, you should lean into your strengths and cheat where you can.

Do you need to lovingly render a background every single panel? Christ no! Does every little detail need to be drawn out? Sure if you want your hand to fall off. Cheat! Use Sketchup to build models! Use Blender to sculpt forms to paint over! Use CSP Assets for prebuilt models and brushes if you use CSP! Take photographs and manip them! Cheat! Do what you need to do to convey what you need to convey!

For instance, a tip/axiom/"rule" I've seen is one establishing shot per scene minimum and a corollary to that has been include a background once per page minimum as grounding (no we cannot all have eternal floating heads and characters in the void. Unless your comic is set in the void. In which case, you do you.) People ain't out here drawing hyper detailed backgrounds per each tiny panel. The people who DO do that are insane. Or stupid. Or both. Or have no deadline? Either way, someone's gonna have a repetitive stress injury... Save yourself the pain and the headache. Take shortcuts. Save your punches for the big K.O. moments.

Start small. Make an 8-page zine. Tell a beginning, a middle, an end in comic form. Bring a scene to life in a few pages. See what you're comfortable drawing and where you struggle. See where you can lean heavily into your comfort zones. Learn how to lean out of your comfort zone. Learn when it's worth it to do the latter.

Or start large. Technically my first finished comic (that wasn't "a dumb pencil thing I drew in elementary school" or "that 13 volume manga I outlined and only penciled, what, 7 pages of in sixth grade" or "random one page things I draw about my characters on throw up on the interwebz") was 99RM so what do I know. I'm just some guy on the internet.

(That's not self-deprecating, I literally am some guy on the internet talking about my path. A lot of this is gonna come down to you and what vibes with you.)

Resources on writing

Some of these are things that help me and some are things that I crowd-sourced from others. Some of these are going to be screenwriting based, some will be comic based.

Making Comics by Scott McCloud: I think everyone recommends this but I think it is a useful book if you're like "ahh!!! christ!! where do I start!!!???" It very much breaks down the elements of comics and the world they exist in and the principles involved, with the caveat that there are no rules! In fact, I need to re-read it.

Comic Book Design: I picked this up at B&N on a whim and in terms of just getting a bird's eye view of varied ways to tackle layout and paneling? It's such a great resource and reference! I personally recommend it as a way to really get a feel for what can be done.

the screenwriter's bible: this is a book that was used in my class. we also used another book that's escaping me but to be honest, I never read anything in school and that's why I'm so stupid. anyway, I'd say check it out if you want, especially if you start googling screenwriting stuff and it's like 20 billion pieces of advice that make 0 sense -- get the core advice from one place and then go from there.

Drawing Words & Writing Pictures: many people I know recommended this. I think I have it? It may be in storage. So frankly, I'd already read a bunch of books on comics before grabbing this that it kind of felt like a rehash. Which isn't shade on the authors — I personally was just a sort of "girl, I don't need comics 101!!!"

Invisible Ink: A Practical Guide to Building Stories that Resonate: this has been recommended so many times to me. I cannot personally speak on it but I can say I do trust those who rec'd it to me so I am passing it along

the story circle: this is pretty much the hero's journey. a useful way to think of journeys! a homie pretty much swears by it

a primer on beats: quick google search got me this that outlines storybeats

save the cat!: what the above refers to, this gives a more genre-specific breakdown. also wants to sell you on the software but you don't need that.

I hope this helps and please feel free to touch base with more info about your specific situation and hopefully I'll have more applicable answers.

[gold3nfics]

Anachronism {Chapter Two}

Author's note: I feel like this chapter is kind of short but, as promised Y/N has made an appearance.

[Also, can we talk about Jungkook's live??? Are y'all still recovering from it? Because I am and will be for a while lol]

Word Count: 2,532

They all made direct contact with the ground underneath them, drawing out groans and grunts of pain among them.

“Did the book say anything about the portal giving us a concussion?” Yoongi asks while slowly getting up from the hard ground.

Namjoon sighs at his dry comment and slowly moves to help Jungkook stand up. Once the other’s vision becomes clearer and less blurry, they take in what is around them.

“Where are we?” Jungkook asks, noticing the open area around them.

It appeared that they were standing in what could have been an open field if it wasn't for a large part of it that lacked grass and was black. Hoseok stepped forward and kneeled in front of the dark spot and touched it.

“It seems that there had been a fire,” he said, rubbing the dried and burnt remains of the field between his fingers, “that’s unfortunate. This looks like it could have been a wonderful place to see.”

Yoongi furrows his brows, “Which way do we even go? The portal was supposed to bring us to who we are looking for, but all I am seeing is nature. Or, well, what is left of it.” The boys glance around trying to see if they can find anything similar to a path, but once they do they all notice a light coming from the inside of their left hands.

Jimin looks down at his hand, “Please tell me your marks are also glowing, or else I am going to freak out.”

The boys say nod in response; Namjoon decides to walk forward, but then the light ceases. Furrowing his brows, he steps back and turns his body to the left, causing the mark to glow slightly again.

“It’s like a compass,” he states with amazement evident in his tone and looks up at the others, “we will just walk in a certain direction and if it keeps glowing, then we are on the right path to finding them.”

The boys nod in understanding and all begin to walk together down the field. Their marks eventually lead them to a road that goes in the direction of a small town up ahead of them. The boys abandon looking at their marks to take a good look at the town in front of them. It is still pretty early in the morning so really, the only people out and about are older individuals.

Once they are walking on the sidewalks of the town, they notice the people there looking at them weirdly, “Why are they looking at us like that?” Jungkook asks.

Jin chuckles, “Look down, our clothing doesn’t exactly fit in. So of course they would be looking at us weirdly.”

“Well, we will just need to find new clothes then, won’t we?” Taehyung smirks and sprints off into a small shop he had been eyeing with the boys following behind him.

“Wait! Taehyung! Don’t run so fast!” Hoseok yells after him.

Once they arrive at the store, they find Taehyung speaking with an older man at the counter.

“Sir, we just need some clothes because in case you haven’t noticed,” Taehyung gestures towards his body, “ours are not suitable.”

The man sighs in frustration, “I told you before and I will tell you again.” he crosses his arms, “If you have no money, you may not have anything from here.”

“But we-” Yoongi steps in and cuts Taehyung off

“We are very sorry sir. Please excuse my friend’s behavior,” The man moves his gaze to meet Yoongi whose pupils narrow in on him, “we are new to town and would really just like to keep a low profile.”

The man stills, “I am sure you understand, right?”

“I do. You know what? It is fine. I suppose you boys getting what you need won’t be any trouble. We get plenty of business on the weekends so we will not be hurting much.” The man smiles warmly and turns to walk to the back of the store.

The boys all look at Yoongi confused, “How did you do that? I tried explaining the same thing, but he looked like he was close to smacking me.” Taehyung says.

“Yeah, you’re usually not good with people; let alone convincing them.” Hoseok states. Yoongi shakes his head, “I don’t know, something just came over me. It was like I was speaking to him, but I was also in his mind controlling the conversation.”

“Are you serious?!” Jungkook exclaims, “Yoongi, that's your power.”

The boys look at the youngest, “Mind control. Remember? Ara said that we all have certain abilities and that we would have to find them on our own; mind control is yours Yoongi.”

“Okay well we can discuss powers later,” Namjoon speaks up and moves towards one of the full racks of clothing, “for now just get the things you need so we can get a move on.”

***

“You know,” Jin says before taking a sip of his water and grabbing a fry, “this place may not have the nicest people or the prettiest views, but their food is pretty alright.” the others make sounds and nod in agreement.

After they had changed their clothing and also gathered a few other minor things from the store, Namjoon decided that they should find a place to eat, mostly because he was hungry, but also to sit down and put together a plan.

Namjoon cleared his throat before speaking, “So once we find who it is we are looking for; how should we approach the situation? Does anyone have any ideas?” Jungkook looks at him, “What do you mean?”

Namjoon sighs tiredly, “Well we can’t just go up to them and say ‘Hi, we are from a different realm, and you are bonded to each of us, but that’s a mistake so now you need to come with us so we can save our people.’ ”

Jungkook smiles, “I mean, I'd be down if someone said that to me.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and sips his drink, “Wasn’t that the same attitude that got you mugged after that girl told you to follow her?”

The others laughed loudly as Jungkook’s cheeks blushed slightly due to embarrassment,

“It wasn’t my fault!” he defended, “She was really cute and I hadn’t even kissed anyone yet at that age.”

Jimin smirked, “At that age? Wasn’t that a few months ago?” Jungkook sent a hard glare Jimin’s way as the others' laughter only increased.

After they had calmed down, Jin looked at Namjoon and shrugs, “If you want my opinion, I think we should just try to sit down with them and explain the situation. I mean we all have the marks and Hanuel’s book as proof, so I don’t think they would have a hard time believing us.”

“Yeah, and if our marks glow when we are near them; I would think that theirs would too. If I didn’t know anything about the circle and saw my hand glowing, I would want answers.” Hoseok adds while observing the people around him.

Namjoon nods in agreement and understanding, “Alright then we will do that, I just hope everything works.”

“It will,” Jungkook smiles and says while reaching for his water, “don’t worry.”

***

After the boys had finished eating, they resumed their search. Their marks had led them in front of what appeared to be a flower shop in a quieter part of town.

As they entered the shop, they couldn’t help but recognize a warm feeling come over their bodies. They all passed it off as being due to the indoor heating, but they knew individually that it was because of something else.

A petite and kind-looking elderly woman had noticed them from behind the counter, “Hello!” she announced with a sweet smile on her face while making her way towards them, “Can I help you boys with anything?”

Jin looks at her and smiles, “Oh no, we are just-”

“Let me guess, you boys are looking for flowers to give to your girlfriends, right?”

Yoongi looks at her shocked and attempts to correct her, “Oh no! You see we are just here looking for-”

“Follow me fellas,” the woman laughs while grabbing Yoongi, Jin, and Hoseok’s arms and leads them away from the others, “in my experience, no men ever come into my shop unless they need flowers as an apology or gift. We actually have some really nice bouquets over here, and they are on sale too!”

Namjoon, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin all stand there trying to process what just happened,

“Okay, I guess it is just us for right now.” Namjoon looks at the young trio, “You guys try to look on this level of the shop to find them, I’ll look on the second level. Oh! And try not to allow people to see your marks, okay?” The three nod and break off into different directions.

Namjoon makes his way towards the stairs on his left to begin his search. As he is walking up the stairs he looks down at his satchel, that he got from the store, and reaches inside of it to make sure Hanuel’s book is still there. Just as he realizes the book is safe and looks up, he comes face to face with a rather large bouquet of daisies and sunflowers; as well as crashing into the person holding the bouquet. Namjoon is quick to grasp his hands around the person's waist to steady them as well as himself.

“I am so sorry! Are you alright? I was looking at the flowers in this bouquet and I wasn’t watching where I was going.” the person says very fast and worriedly.

However, Namjoon wasn’t making any effort to say anything, mostly because he felt as if he couldn’t form any words. It was as if everything around the both of them had blurred and become silent, and everything that had previously stressed his mind had diminished.

The only thing that was on his mind now, was her.

The slight warmth that he had experienced upon entering the shop was nothing compared to what he felt now. His body had indeed grown warmer, but his heartbeat had increased and everything felt fuzzy. It also didn’t help with how close they were with his hands on her waist, and her left hand holding his shoulder to keep her stable.

The girl in front of him had grown shy and blushed in embarrassment once she realized where her hand was. She went to move away and step back, but was stopped due to the attractive man in front of her not releasing his gentle hold on her waist. Namjoon snapped out his daze once he noticed her moving to step back,

“Oh no! It’s alright, sorry about that. I am pretty clumsy myself and just hope I didn’t hurt you.” Namjoon laughs nervously while rubbing the back of his neck. The young woman looks at him with bright and endearing eyes, and lets out a light laugh; one that causes Namjoon to perk up and smile fondly at.

“Don’t you worry, I’m just glad I had you catch me.” she takes a step down to stand on the same stair as Namjoon, “Usually, I just end up falling and hoping for the best, and that no one saw me.” Namjoon chuckles at that statement.

“Well, I am glad that I could be of help…” he pauses waiting for her to inform him of her name,

“Oh!” she lowers the bouquet she is holding, revealing a small name tag, “Y/N, my name is Y/N. And you are?”

“Namjoon, nice to meet you.” Namjoon smiles, which Y/N returns back.

“Well, I’ll see you around Namjoon.” she begins to descend down the stairs but Namjoon stops her,

“Wait!” Y/N stops and turns around, cute confusion evident on her face, “Do you need any help? My friends are looking around the store, and I am not looking to buy anything, so it is really no bother for me to help you.”

Y/N shakes her head, “Oh, no I couldn’t ask a customer to do that. It’s okay really-”

“You’re not the one asking, I am.” Namjoon cuts her off and walks down to stand next to her.

Y/N looks up at him with eyes that appear as if she is analyzing his own, Namjoon finds that he just can’t help staring into them, “Okay, I suppose I could use the help since my coworker is on his break; follow me!” and that is exactly what Namjoon does.

As he is walking behind her silently, he takes the time to look over her. He takes in the overalls and oversized shirt she is wearing, her hair that is half up and out of her face, and also her attractive physique from the back; but Namjoon would never admit that part.

He also notices the little specks and smudges of dirt scattered on her clothing and arms. This made him smile at the thought of her clumsily repotting plants.

How cute. Namjoon smiles; his admiring is stopped however as they approach a small room and the woman in front of him turns around and places the bouquet on a table beside her. He looks at her with slight confusion, and she smiles, “You strong?” she asks with a slight smirk while putting her hands on her hips.

Namjoon quirks an eyebrow at her question, “Maybe, it depends on the job.”

“Think you can help me move those bags of soil out of that room, to right here?” Namjoon smiles,

“Sure, think you can keep up?” he asks while rolling up his sleeves and moving into the storage type room,

“I don’t know, I am quite the skilled dirt mover.” Y/N responds and laughs as she goes to remove her gloves.

Namjoon stills once he sees Y/N reaching for her gloves, suddenly reminded of why he was here. He takes a quick glance at his mark and notices it is glowing brightly.

Wait a second, shit hold on wait- Namjoon’s thoughts were interrupted by a sharp gasp from Y/N,

“What the hell is this?!” She exclaims loudly while staring at her hand trying to rub it, thinking that it is some hallucination.

Namjoon quickly moves towards her and gently grabs her hand to comfort her, “Hey, it’s okay! You don’t need to freak out, I have it too, see.” he raises his hand showing Y/N the same glowing mark that she had.

Y/N’s eyes widen and Namjoon can see the fear and confusion in her eyes, so he goes to tell her that it’s okay and that she should take a seat; however, his actions were interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

Both Y/N and Namjoon look towards the doorway and see three other men, all of which are holding little succulents and have dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

If they had something important to say, they had definitely forgotten what it was once their gaze had set on Y/N.

“Hey guys,” Namjoon clears his throat and moves away from Y/N awkwardly, “this is Y/N.”

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

As Long as the Forest Stands Tall, I’ll Be With You

Title: As Long As The Forest Stands Tall, I’ll Be With You

Summary: Humans come to Logan’s tree in all sorts of shapes and sizes. They ask for good crops, to find true love and to strike riches beyond their wildest dreams. Rarely, however, does a child stand beneath his tree, shivering and hiccuping in the bitter cold of winter.

Pairings: Familial Analogical, Background Platonic Logicality and Familial Intruroyality

Word-Count: 2.6-k

Warnings: Human Sacrifice, Death Mention, Body Horror, Morally Gray Logan, Angst with a Happy Ending

This fic is inspired by an anon ask sent to me awhile back that I just now finished. It’s also the Cryptid Logan fic that won the poll of next published wip, so hope y’all all enjoy :)

-

A human child stands at the base of his tree, shivering and hiccuping in the bitter cold of winter. Indeed, the child’s stick arms hugs its frame in a poor attempt to stay warm. The child does not have a coat, and its threadbare stockings could hardly count as shoes. 

Logan finds himself mystified by the sight.

 Humans came to his tree, in all sorts of shapes and sizes. They asked for good crops, to find true love and to strike riches beyond their wildest dreams. He granted them all, as long as they left an appropriate gift in its place. Things like books and knowledge he favored most of all, but he often did not turn away a cow or two if it was all they had to offer.

However a child? Rarely do children come seeking his help. Adolescents do not have the same worries as their often self-absorbed older counterparts. The few children that have come his way in decades past asked for things for others. The appearance of the child is enough to wake him fully from his winter rest.

“Hello.” He speaks, the wind carrying his message, through the dead tree branches and over the mounds of snow below. 

He forms at the base of his tree, in a shape familiar yet alien to a human’s eye. Centuries of practicing shapeshifting and he still has not perfected a form that does not send a human’s flight-or-fight’s reflexes into overdrive. Humans are innately good picking up on minuscule anomalies. If it is not the nose this time, then it is the ears he has gotten wrong. Too pointy, too many. He’s certain this time he has the right amount of body parts.

The child leaps in the air at his greeting. They turn to face him, trembling even more. He does not think it is from the cold.

“H-hello.” The child returns the greeting, dipping their head in reverence.

“What is your name, child?” He asks, “and what do you seek?”

The child makes a weird, muffled noise. Their head is still lowered, facing away from Logan’s searching gaze.

“My name is Virgil, I--I’ve come to seek an end to this harsh winter. That you--you bring about a prosperous out-pour of crops this Spring.” The child speaks, slow and stilted. Like words firmly pressed into their mouth by someone else and not a genuine request from the child himself.

A flash of anger passes through Logan. If humans think by sending out a sapling their chances will double, they are wrong. Logan values knowledge and wisdom, not emotional manipulation.

 Logan hums in acknowledgement of Virgil’s words, “I see. And what shall you offer in payment?”

“Myself.”

“What?” Logan asks, for he is sure he misunderstood the child.

“I--it’s--Chief Habrok said as an orphan I’m not good for much else and that this is the highest honor I could bring to the village. So I offer myself as a sacrifice.” Virgil looks up at him, glistening tears half-frozen to his cheeks. So much of both fear and determination radiates from the small being. 

Logan’s ire has kindled to a raging forest-fire. This is worse than simply thinking Logan would be softer to a child’s pleas than an adult’s. Humans have bargained with him using livestock but one of their own young? A child that has lost so much already? It is revolting. All around them, the forest creaks, branches shifting not from the blizzard’s winds but of their own volition. Virgil flinches. 

He reaches down, softly cusping Virgil’s chin with a hand to direct the child’s attention towards himself.

“I will take you far away from here. Somewhere you’ll be safe and loved for as long as this tree stands tall. Okay?” 

“And my village--you’ll take care of them?” Virgil asks, confusion and doubt swirling around him. Much like the fierce snowfall sweeping through the forest.

Logan’s lips twitches. “You have my word that they’ll be taken care of.” 

“O-okay.” Virgil agrees, voice soft and small.

Logan drops his hand away, holding it out by his side. “Take my hand.”

Most would hesitate touching the hand of a spirit. They’d fear to be swept away, to never see the light of day again. The fear is very much present within the child. But again so is that firm, resolute determination. Virgil’s tiny hand shoots forward, latching onto Logan’s larger one with a startlingly strong grip. The wind picks up as the trees shake themselves from their foundations, their roots. They stretch, relishing the freedom of movement.  

“Close your eyes.” Logan murmurs. It’s his only warning before he calls forth to the forest. Logan is not this one tree like the humans believe. He is all of them. He is the whole forest. Each of them are perfectly formed clones connected by the same root system. 

He integrates Virgil’s soul into the system, careful to keep the child’s individuality intact. Somewhere in the bidding snowstorm, a young three-foot sapling sprouts bright green leaves much like the tree the two stand under. Certain of his work, he withdraws. He underestimates the drain of his powers, because he nearly collapses to the ground.

“You!” Virgil gasps, staring at Logan with bulging eyes. Logan looks at himself, no longer ambiguously human in appearance. Ah, yes. He’s quite forgotten how frightening his true form can be for humans. It is a shimmery indigo blue that is almost translucent. He has a multitude of eyes and just as many limbs. His hair is mossy, with bits of berries and flowers poking out of it. His eyes are a pupiless navy blue with whirling black rings.

“You look different as well,” Logan says, pointing out that the child’s form has taken on a glowing purple hue. Hmm, purple. Unusual color for a spirit. He still looks much like a human aside from the color. Give it enough time, however, and the child’s appearance will shift to reflect his newfound nature.

“Am I dead?” The child blurts out.

“Not in the slightest.” Logan reassures. The child does not look reassured despite this, “Now come, I know someone who will take good care of you.”

“B-but I thought, you’d--” The child stutters, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Oh no, I’m terrible with children. I promise that you will be quite safe with him.” Logan says, blinking out the dizzying nausea. He frowns in distaste. Maintaining a physical presence is annoying and draining. This is why he seldoms ventures out to the physical realm if he can help it. 

“Now shall we?” Logan asks, shouting over the blizzard at this point. Virgil huddles closer, burying his head into Logan’s robes, away from the roaring blizzard. Logan’s robes become wet with tears. Logan places a tentative hand on the child’s back. \

Then he pulls both of them away--their physical forms dissolving completely. They reappear in a dwelling in the depths of the astral realm. A calamity of voices greets them. A kind, older one overlaid by two energetic young ones. 

“--you two shouldn’t go off without permiss--”

“Logey, Logey!” The two young voices say in unison, as a set of green and red blurs come dashing towards Logan’s direction. The green one looks human enough except for their bottom half made up of swishing, swirling tentacles. The red one sports shimmery see-through wings and insectoid eyes. 

The child presses closer to Logan, his heart rate accelerating by a substantial amount. In response, Logan draws his limbs around to shield Virgil while holding one hand out in warning. He supposes new faces, especially inhuman ones, is frightening for the young child.

“Remus, Roman,” He says, breathing labored, “I ask we forgo the usual hug-tackle just this once.”

The saplings stop short, their faces flashing with confusion. One of them opens his mouth to protest, but a blue pair of hands with talon-like nails rest on each of their shoulders.  

“Logan, what’s going on?” Patton asks, “shouldn’t you be slumbering still?”

Logan doesn’t answer him at first. He glances down, craning his neck towards Virgil. “Would you like to meet my friend?” He whispers lowly. Virgil tightens his grip on Logan’s robes but nods. Satisfied, Logan draws his limbs back, revealing the child to Patton and the saplings. Twin gasps erupt from Remus and Roman.

“This is Virgil.” Logan informs them, “Virgil, this is Patton and his sons--”

“I’m Remus and this is Stinky!” Remus says, thrusting his thumb towards his brother.

“No I’m NOT! My name’s Roman!” Roman shrieks, his indignation however is quickly forgotten as he holds out a hand towards Virgil, “Hey you want to play knights and dragons? You and I can be the knights!”

“No fair! I want him to be a dragon with me!” Remus stomps his foot. Roman glares back and it seemed like the two were on the verge of a wrestling match when a tentative voice speaks up.

“Can I...can I be a dragon knight?” 

Remus and Roman stare at Virgil, who mostly hidden himself behind Logan at this point. Just a purple tuft of hair and eyes are visible.

“That’s...that’d be cool!” The twins say in unison. It’s times like then that Logan is reminded they were once one; Romulus. Once a highly respected river spirit until humans’ actions caused him to split and reform anew.

“Why don’t you three go along and play in the fort? Logan and I have some things to discuss.” Patton suggests, smiling brightly. Too bright. Logan withholds a shudder. 

Remus and Roman don’t protest, too excited at the prospect of a new playmate. Roman extends a hand towards Virgil, who looks up at Logan in askance. 

“Well, go on.” Logan raises an eyebrow, “it is alright.”

Virgil takes Roman’s hand and the three are gone in a blink of an eye. So has Patton’s smile. 

“Logan--what have you done?” 

“What do you mean?” Logan deflects, gritting his teeth. He extends a few limbs, looking for something to steady himself with. A warm pair of arms steady him, guiding him to a chair. Trust Patton to help even in the midst of being upset.

“Don’t. Not right now. Virgil--he is a part of you, I can sense it. But he isn’t--”

“The human village near my forest sent him as a sacrifice.”

Patton almost lets go of him, “You didn’t!”

“Of course not,” Logan rolls his eyes as he sits down in the chair with a grunt, “but I couldn’t send him back there or leave him completely alone to die. Humans can’t survive our realm, you know this. Integrating his soul as a part of me was the only option.”

“And the village?” 

“I’ve taken care to make sure they get what they justifiably deserve.” Logan answers, closing his eyes as he shares a vision with Patton. 

For a fleeting second, he sees flashes of the forest marching among the white visage of a raging blizzard. Flickers of drab buildings caught in gnarled branches being torn apart. A hundred voices screaming in terror. 

He opens his eyes and sees Patton again. The air spirit regards him with raised eyebrows and a small frown tugging at his lips. Not quite approval, nor disapproval.

“You plan to look after Virgil, then?” 

“No, of course not,” Logan says, “I thought that was rather obvious. You are good with saplings--I am not. Besides you are always saying how it’d be nice to have around a peer Roman’s and Remus’ age for their benefits.”

As to prove his point, several delighted laughter echoes from the children in the distance. Logan smirks, satisfied. He rises from his chair, desperate to return to his winter slumber, when Patton pushes him back into it. He is embarrassed that it was more of a gentle shove than anything else.

“Logan, you can’t just--you have a responsibility to Virgil! He is of you now, if you leave--it’ll be detrimental to both of you. Remember when Romul--when Remus and Roman first came into being, if separated it caused them--”

“This is different. I made sure to account for that,” Logan snaps, “Please Patton, could you at least watch over him until--”

 Logan stops abruptly as a pain burrows into him. After centuries of existence, Logan has experienced pain, both great and minimal. But he was not prepared for this type of pain. The aching, spluttering kind. He could not breathe. It was like he was drowning and being burned alive at the same time. But it isn’t oxygen he needs. It’s something else. And every second he isn’t reunited with this something, the pain only continues to worsen. 

“Dad! Dad!”

“Something’s wrong--”

“I didn’t hit him!”

“--hurt--”

Something is deposited onto his lap. A shaking, quivering Virgil. Who Logan had promised would be safe here. Not writhing in pain. Logan gathers his limbs around the child tightly. A low rumble like trees creaking in the wind emanates from Logan. A lullaby that forest spirits know well. A human might find it frightening. It does not frighten Virgil. He can feel the child relaxing in his hold, cries quietening. Virgil is not human anymore, after all. The pain ebbs away but still Logan’s focus remains on Virgil.

“Are you alright now?” Logan asks.

Virgil nods, hesitating.  “I’m sorry.”

Logan’s many eyes blink in confusion. He looks over to Patton and the twins, who he’d almost forgotten. Patton’s lips are pressed firmly together in a signature “I told you so” move. He is missing his usual gleam in his eyes, however. His gaze darts between Logan and Virgil before landing solidly on Logan. It doesn’t take him long to decipher what that means.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Logan asks Virgil. 

“I did something bad--didn’t I? And you punished me so that’s why I--”

“No,” Logan cuts in, causing the child to jolt, “you did not do anything wrong. I should be apologizing to you. I inadvertently caused harm to you when I promised safety.”

“You mean it?” Virgil asks, his little eyes squinting up at Logan. There’s so much wariness and mistrust in those eyes. Too much for a child as young as Virgil.

“I do. I apologize for causing further harm to befall you. While it hadn’t been my intention, it still hurt you and so I take responsibility for it.” Logan tells him, bowing his head. It is a serious matter when spirits break a promise. He cannot blame the young sapling if he chooses to not to accept his apology. Especially after the hurt Virgil has already endured in his short lifespan. 

Logan is as old as the forest. He has seen many things and knows twice that of things in the world. Still, nothing quite prepares him for Virgil’s response.

“Okay,” The child says, and then, “promise you won’t leave me?”

He raises his head to look at Virgil. Doubt still dances in those little eyes, but so does hope. Logan wants to laugh. What a stubborn, brave thing to have. He’s still willing to trust Logan even though he’d broken his promise not even a hour after making it. It’s illogical, foolish yet heartwarming all the same.

“As long as the forest stands tall, I will be with you.” Logan promises, a much more serious oath than the first.

Then a small smile graces Virgil’s face and oh! Oh, for all his infinite wisdom, Logan does not know how to raise a sapling. How could he, when he had no mother tree? No one to nurture and nourish him as a young, vulnerable sapling? But he knows Virgil already has him wrapped around his roots. That upon sensing the child at his tree, his fate at once had been sealed.

For once not knowing something does not agitate him. In fact, as he wraps a limb over the child in a loose embrace, he thinks he does not mind it.

[gunpowdville]

The Great Flesh-Eating Cake Incident of Year [REDACTED] (Not to be Confused With the Bifrost Incident)

Chapters: 1/2

Words: 3502

Relationships: Drumbot Brian - Raphaella la Cognizi (queerplatonic), Gunpowder Tim/Lyfrassir Edda/Marius von Raum, The Aurora/Nastya Rasputina (although most don’t show up until the second chapter)

Other Things: genderfluid tim, she/her tim, he/fae marius :)

Summary: Brian and Raph bake a cake. Or, they try to. It doesn't exactly go well. (aka, Why Raphaella la Cognizi Should Never Be Allowed in the Kitchen)

read on ao3 here or read below the cut for people who don't like ao3 (i will post the second chapter. at some point. hopefully soon)

Chapter 1

“Try it now.”

“Is it safe?”

“Does that matter?”

Brian gives her what she calls his teacher look, a combination of calm exasperation and gentle chiding. “I would prefer to not fry myself from the inside out, if I can help it.”

“Boring,” Raphaella accuses, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “And you know I’d fix you if you did.” Well actually, she would get Nastya to fix him, as Raph herself has absolutely no self control when it comes to the prospect of tinkering with a complex mechanism and Brian hates being tinkered on without his permission.

“Yes, of course, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like hell,” Brian points out. “Not to mention how horrendously it would fuck up my systems.”

Raphaella pouts. “So I installed the flamethrower for nothing?”

Brian hesitates. “...I didn’t say that.”

Raphaella perks up immediately, turning her full attention from the clattered worktable to her partner. Brian straightens up and faces away from her, focusing at the blank wall at one end of the lab. He pokes his tongue around the inside of his mouth a little, probing at the new addition in the back. He tests out flipping its settings, making sure everything flows smoothly, then steels himself and opens his mouth, turning it on. Nothing happens.

Raphaella throws up her hands in exasperation. “I don’t understand! That should have worked! It-”

Brian yelps suddenly, clapping his hands to his throat as the back of it heats up rapidly, too rapidly, the heat growing from gently uncomfortable to unbearable in a matter of seconds. Luckily, his systems react before he can, shutting off the new attachment the second it could cause potential harm. The heat fades almost as quickly as it had swelled.

“Ow,” Brian says mildly.

“That was about to work,” Raphaella huffs, hands on her hips, eyes fixed somewhat accusingly on Brian. “If you had just waited a moment longer.”

“It was about to melt my vocal cords,” Brian points out in retort. Raphaella throws up her hands again.

“My husband is a coward,” she declares to no one in particular, with no actual insult behind it. Brian can’t help but smile softly at the endearment. They’re not married, technically, but for all intents and purposes they might as well be.

“I’ve started to become convinced that you’re simply trying to kill me,” Brian remarks to her as she turns back to the notes on her lab table. She shoots him a brightly malicious look, one backed heavily with fondness. “Maybe I am.”

He sits down on the stool beside the lab table and reaches for her, catching her waist from behind and pulling her onto his lap. She leans back into him as he wraps his arms around her, and he rests his chin on her shoulder so he can peer down at the pages of notes in her hands.

“Here, tell me what I’m doing wrong,” Raphaella holds up the notes so Brian can get a better look at them. He hums thoughtfully as he scans her delicate sketch of his body, each part individually labelled with possible enhancements to be added in Raph’s lacy handwriting. Brian’s own handwriting, cramped and blocky, annotates the science officer’s notes with his own observations of measurements and possible difficulties.

In his mind, Brian overlays the sketch on top of the official schematics the doc left in there, focusing on his throat and the new addition, checking for anywhere where it isn’t wired properly or messing with any of his other systems. Nothing. He bites his lip, a very natural bad habit that he’s never been able to shake, despite it splitting the rubber badly. Raphaella hits him lightly in the side of the head when she notices him doing it.

“I don’t think it’s anything you’ve done,” Brian says finally, leaning back slightly on the stool. “I think it’s simply a matter of too much heat.”

Raphaella ‘hmphs’, taking her notes back from him and setting them back on the table. She turns her head to study Brian’s face, placing her hands atop his where they rest over her stomach. He quirks an eyebrow at her, and she regards him silently. He can tell that she’s thinking through what next to work on, now that their flamethrower experiment is a bust.

He gives her stomach a light pat. “If you don’t mind, I was going to go bake something. Tim’s been complaining that there aren’t enough ‘munchies’ onboard. And yes, that is the word xe used.”

Raphaella slaps a hand to her heart melodramatically, the gesture accompanied by a theatrical gasp. “Leaving me for Tim, are we? Scandal.”

Brian chuckles gently as he rises to his feet, dislodging Raph in the process. “Yes, I’ve decided you’re much too cruel and brutal for me, and I’d be much happier feeding Tim for the rest of eternity.”

Raphaella tosses her hair and turns away from him, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her chin up imperiously. “Good riddance.”

“Good riddance indeed,” Brian agrees drily, with no heat behind it. Raph glaces over her shoulder at him and grins, and he smiles back as he slips out the lab door, tipping his hat as he goes.

Ivy’s reading at the kitchen counter when he enters. She doesn’t look up as he makes his way into the kitchen proper, wrangling his hair into a wiry ponytail and tossing his hat on the counter. He peeks at the cover of her book and makes an intrigued little noise when he notices it’s about prophets and oracles throughout space and time.

“I was going to give it you when I was finished,” Ivy says without looking up. “I thought it might interest you.”

“It does,” Brian tells her, and she smirks, proud of herself. She still doesn’t take her eyes off the pages. Brian leans over, resting his elbows on the counter, and knocks his forehead briefly against hers, a somewhat awkward sign of affection that’s he’s developed with some members of the crew. She responds by patting his head absentmindedly, still not looking up from her book. He smiles, and turns back to the kitchen.

After a couple minutes of rummaging around in cabinets, Brian becomes aware of Raphaella’s presence leaning against the counter to his left.

“Missed me?” he asks teasingly. She rolls her eyes and pokes him in the arm. “You promised you’d teach me to bake.”

Brian pauses, replaying the last ten minutes in his mind to confirm that he has not, in fact, promised her this. And then he realizes that she’s referring to a time quite a few decades ago, when the two of them had been left back on the ship while the others had been out pillaging a nigh-extinct planet. They’d been sharing some pastries that Brian had been experimenting with, and Raphaella had asked him how he’d made them. He had launched straight into a detailed explanation of exactly which ingredients he had used and what amounts of each, and how he had played with the measurements and tweaked the recipe to see how he could improve it. Raph had listened with utter fascination, and after he had finished she had mentioned that it seemed a bit like her experiments, only with slightly different materials. He had offered to teach her a little, if she’d like, and she had said she would love to learn. And now here they are.

“I did do that, didn’t I,” Brian muses. He studies Raph, leaning against the counter, a sparkle in her eyes that both makes him excited to see what she has in store and fear for his life.

“So?” Raphaella raises an eyebrow. Brian considers.

“We are making a cake,” he tells her, keeping his voice slow, steady, and serious. “A basic cake. We are not going to put anything in it that is not on the ingredients list. We are going to follow the recipe. To the letter. And we are not, I repeat, we are not going to burn down my kitchen.”

My kitchen, Aurora corrects him gently.

“Our kitchen,” he concedes.

Raphaella steps forward and takes Brian’s hands, looking him solemnly in the eyes. “I won’t let you down,” she promises. “Trust me.”

“Phee, I love you to death, and I always will” Brian tells her, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “But I draw the line at trusting you.”

“Rude,” Raph sniffs, while Ivy tries to cover up a snort.

“Practical,” Brian shoots back, letting go of her hands and reaching past her to pluck the recipe from the counter. With a flourish, he deposits it in her hands. “Find me these ingredients.”

Raphaella mutters something about ‘bossybitch Brian’ as she turns away from him and marches purposefully toward the cupboards. He watches her fondly for a moment, before busying himself gathering pans and setting up his beloved electric mixer, something he’d found being sold for scraps on a junkyard planet and had lovingly repaired and repainted with his own two hands. Its name is Small Brian, and it remains one of his most prized possessions.

“Bri, which eggs are we using?” Raphaella calls to him, her head buried deep in the disorganized fridge. Brian abandons Small Brian for just a moment and pokes his head in beside hers.

“Ah, not those,” he says, indicating a half dozen of jet-black eggs glowing faintly from within. “Those are Ashes’. They will supposedly hatch into a rare breed of fire-breathing corvid.”

“And those?” Raphaella points to the other carton of eggs.

“We’re using those,” Brian confirms, pulling the carton out. “Ah. Wait. Not this one.” Carefully, he removes a small, round, green orb from the carton and places it gently on the counter. “An octokitten laid this. We think.”

Raphaella leans over and picks it up, holding it in the palm of her hand and bringing it up close to her eyes. She looks suspiciously like she’s about to slip it into her pocket, so Brian plucks it from her hands before she gets a chance to. She sticks her tongue out at him. He waves her off to go collect the rest of the ingredients, reminding her that the lovely ceramic pot labeled ‘sugar’ is in fact actually filled with gunpowder, and the sugar is in the cabinet to its right. Meanwhile he goes back to fussing over Small Brian.

The mixer isn’t starting up properly, it keeps stuttering and stopping whenever he tries to turn it on. Brian frowns, tapping the top of it with a metal finger. “Come on, love,” he says softly to Small Brian. “Don’t give up on me now. Not after all we’ve been through.”

“Raph,” Ivy speaks up from her place at the counter, her tone amused. “Brian’s talking to the appliances again.”

“If either of you make a joke comparing me to an appliance, I will kill you,” Brian warns both of them placidly, fiddling with Small Brian’s mechanisms until the machine whines and starts up properly. “Good lad,” Brian says, patting the appliance lovingly.

“I saw that,” he adds when he catches the look Ivy and Raphaella share over the counter. Raphaella rolls her eyes and gestures to him to come approve the ingredients she’s gathered. She hooks her arm through his and tips her head onto his shoulder while he checks each one off against the recipe.

“Excellent, that’s everything. Thank you.” he says, kissing her on the top of the head. “ Now we can begin.”

Raphaella, as always, is a very attentive student, listening well and asking questions when necessary. He suspects that she asks some of the questions just to listen to him talk about something he loves, and he adores her for it. They work very well together, the two of them, bantering back and forth as they do. Ivy chimes in on occasion, never taking her eyes off of her book.

Jonny strolls into the kitchen at one point, zeroing in on the chocolate chips scattered across the counter with a predator’s precision. As soon as he spots the first mate, Brian sweeps a knife into his hand and points it at him. “Out.”

Jonny backs away, throwing his hands up in surrender. He’s been killed enough times over messing around in the kitchen that he knows by now that the best thing to do is back off.

All in all, it’s a shockingly peaceful time. Brian hums to himself as he stirs ingredients together, and Raphaella goes through the cupboards, looking for something to play with. She reaches to open one in the back, and Brian notices too late which one it is. Raphaella stops, tilting her head in curiosity as she stares at the contents of the cupboard.

“Oh, Briiiiiiiiaaan?” she calls in a singsong voice, which is usually a sign that Brian is about to either be taken apart or assist in taking apart someone else. “What is this?”

Brian sighs and sets down the bowl, making his way slowly over to her. She raises an eyebrow at him as he gazes silently for a moment at the dismantled skeleton shoved into the back of the cupboard. “Those… are my bones.”

“Your… bones.”

“My bones.”

“Why…?”

Brian shrugs. “It’s not like I’m using them.”

“Right.” Raphaella studies the skeleton for a moment longer, before declaring, “I’m going to make soup out of them.”

Brian starts. “I’m sorry?”

“Your bones. I’m going to make soup out of them.”

“You are not.”

“Bone broth is a thing, isn’t it? Ivy?”

“It is,” Ivy confirms, casually turning a page.

Raphaella grins, gathering the bones into her arms. “Brian soup.”

“Brian s- no!”

“Brian soup Brian soup Brian soup Brian soup-”

“NO.”

“I thought the doc took your bones,” Ivy mentions, as Brian attempts to gently cajole his partner into giving him back said bones.

“I asked her to let me keep some of them,” Brian explains, tugging a rib out of Raph’s arms and dislodging about three more, which clatter to the floor unceremoniously. “They are mine, after all.”

“It’s unusually sentimental of me, I know,” he adds as Raphaella ducks under his arm, executing a perfect twirl to get the bones out of his reach, “I’m not quite sure why I wanted them.”

“For soup,” Raphaella quips, and Ivy snorts as Brian throws himself at the science officer. Raph yelps and scrambles away from him, and so begins an epic chase around the kitchen, Raph struggling to run away while clutching an armful of bones, the owner of said bones following a step behind her, playfully angry.

Brian doesn’t realize he’s started humming to himself until Raphaella turns to face him, jogging backwards, and asks what song it is.

“It’s a new one I’m working on,” he says, using her moment of distraction as an opportunity to trap her in the kitchen, the wraparound counter devoid of exits besides the one that he is currently standing in front of. “It’s called ‘Raphaella Please Don’t Make Soup Out of My Bones.’”

“I hate it,” Raphaella decides, still backing away. She’s almost hit the counter, and Brian smirks at his inevitable victory.

“You’ve barely heard it,” he argues, and begins humming louder. Raphaella’s back hits the counter, and Brian stops. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, he begins tapping his foot along to the tune.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Raphaella starts, but the other foot has already begun to move as well. Just tapping at first, tap tap tapping to a beat in Brian’s head, but the footwork quickly becomes more and more complicated as he eases into the song. Ivy picks it up quickly and starts tapping her fingers on the counter, taking charge of the beat while Brian continues humming the melody.

Raphaella shakes her head, refusing to let his shenanigans charm her, but Brian refuses to give up. He dances his way smoothly across the floor to her, finishing with an elegant twirl and an extended hand. Raphaella regards him with reluctant defeat, then rolls her eyes and takes Brian’s hand.

He waltzes her out into the middle of the floor, two steps forward, one step back. He spins her out, then spins her back in so they’re swaying with her back pressed to his chest. “You’re a master manipulator, you know,” she says to him. He smiles. She twirls him out, then twirls him back in and dips him, effortlessly holding up his mass of metal.

“I don’t remember this step of the cake recipe,” Ivy comments drily. She’s finally looking up from her book and is watching the two of them with an expression that is equal parts exasperated and amused.

“Which step, the bone soup or the dancing?” Brian returns, just as dry. Ivy is saved from having to respond by the arrival of Marius, who comes striding through the door like an invading general, arms spread wide in greeting.

“Well, if it isn’t my three favorite delinquents,” fae says, grinning like a maniac. “Dancing in the kitchen like- wait. Why is Raph in the kitchen?”

“I’m helping,” Raph says proudly, tossing her hair over her shoulder in a decidedly smug fashion as Brian collects his bones and returns them to their cupboard. “How can we help you?”

Marius pulls up a stool and takes a seat next to Ivy, scanning the pages of her book idly. “Tim stole my partner.”

“To be fair, Tim is also dating your partner,” Brian points out, handing the bowl of cake batter to Raph to finish stirring and put in the oven.

“Sure, but she’s being smug about it. So I’m pouting,” Marius replies, metal fingers tapping on the counter. “Oh, also: Tim wanted me to tell you. She/her for the time being.”

Brian nods, taking note of the pronouns. “Well, when you feel like speaking to Tim again, you can tell her that a cake is on its way.”

Marius raises an eyebrow. “You mean that cake that Raph just slipped something into behind your back?”

Honestly, Brian is surprised that this didn’t happen earlier. Slowly, he turns to Raphaella, who meets his eyes with a mischievous smirk as she slips an empty vial back into her pocket.

“What was in that?” he asks gently, not mad, just curious.

“Just a little something I whipped up,” Raphaella says, giving the batter an experimental stir. An odd squelching noise escapes from the bowl, and she quickly lets go of the wooden spoon as a dark tendril of… something curls up around it, possessive and hungry. “Oh. That’s interesting.”

“What the fuck was that?” Marius leans forward over the counter, curiosity evident on faer features.

Raphaella sets the bowl carefully on the floor and steps away from it, circling around it to Brian’s side. He gives her a questioning look, and she shrugs cheerfully, indicating that she has no idea whatsoever the effect of whatever she put in may be. With somewhat tired resignation, Brian steps forward to investigate what has become of his simple chocolate cake.

It’s… alive. The dark, viscous substance in the bowl has begun to writhe and bubble in a distinctively sentient manner, tendrils forming reaching out, looking to grab hold of something. The tendrils feel their way around tentatively, like a newborn animal learning to walk for the first time. The substance itself has an oddly familiar shimmer to it, the nearly oil-black surface revealing colors of every hue and nature when the light hits it.

“That looks like…” Marius frowns, clambering over the counter and dropping next to Brian as what was meant to be a cake slowly drags itself out of the bowl and onto the floor. “Oh, Raph, you didn���t!”

“Don’t touch it,” Brian advises as Marius crouches near the thing to get a better look.

Marius gives the Drumbot a scathing look. “I’m not a moron, Brian, I’m not going to-”

“Mare, get back,” Brian snaps, but it’s too late. The crawling blob has already reached the violinists foot and has clamped on tightly, wrapping its tentacles up and around his leg. He stares down at it in mild concern for a moment, then says: “Fuck.”

What happens next is hard to describe. The viscous thing sort of… stretches itself, until it covers Marius’ entire body, undulating and pulsing, then collapses in on itself, returning to its smaller form, leaving nothing but a slightly steaming metal arm left where the ship’s doctor once stood.

“What the hell did you do?” Brian demands, staring at the (now slightly larger) creation as it drags its way across the floor.

Raphaella doesn’t respond. “I think it ate faer,” she says instead. Then, “where is it going?”

Brian glances at the floor just in time to see the thing disappear into the vents. He lets out a cry, but it is much to late. It’s gone.

“Well,” Ivy says, staring with vague concern at the open vent. “Fuck.”

[kellyvela]

GRRM has said in interviews that he’s purposely played with the romantic tension between the hound and Sansa. What do you think the endgame purpose of the unkiss and that playing is meant to be for?

This is all what he said about the matter in question so far:

The Hound and Sansa, romantic or platonic? It could be very different things to each of those involved, mind you!

JUNE 24, 1999 THE HOUND AND SANSA

Moreta12: I understand, I’ve heard your opinion on that. In ACOK, it seems that the relationship between the Hound and Sansa had romantic undertones. Is that true?

GeoRR: Well, read the book and decide for yourself.

Moreta12: I’ve read the book and I’ve debated those particular scenes with a few others. Half say that it’s romantic and half say it’s platonic. I’ve taken the romantic stance.

GeoRR:  It could be very different things to each of those involved, mind you

Moreta12:Yes, but it seem like evidence points towards romantic undertones. Will the Hound appear later?

GeoRR: Yes, the Hound will be in STORM OF SWORDS. In fact, I just finished writing a big scene with him.

[Source]

When will Sansa be “legal”?  **ºª@”¡¿x<%$!&?

OCTOBER 05, 1999 AGE OF SEXUAL RELATIONS IN WESTEROS

The nature of the relationship between Sandor and Sansa has been a hot topic on Revanshe’s board. Sansa’s youth has been one focus of the discussion. What is the general Westerosi view as to romantic or sexual relationships involving a girl of Sansa’s age and level of physical maturity?

A boy is Westeros is considered to be a “man grown” at sixteen years. The same is true for girls. Sixteen is the age of legal majority, as twenty-one is for us.

However, for girls, the first flowering is also very significant… and in older traditions, a girl who has flowered is a woman, fit for both wedding and bedding.

A girl who has flowered, but not yet attained her sixteenth name day, is in a somewhat ambigious position: part child, part woman. A “maid,” in other words. Fertile but innocent, beloved of the singers.

In the “general Westerosi view,” well, girls may well be wed before their first flowerings, for political reasons, but it would considered perverse to bed them. And such early weddings, even without sex, remain rare. Generally weddings are postponed until the bride has passed from girlhood to maidenhood.

Maidens may be wedded and bedded… however, even there, many husbands will wait until the bride is fifteen or sixteen before sleeping with them. Very young mothers tend to have significantly higher rates of death in childbirth, which the maesters will have noted.

As in the real Middle Ages, highborn girls tend to flower significantly earlier than those of lower birth. Probably a matter of nutrition. As a result, they also tend to marry earlier, and to bear children earlier. There are plenty of exceptions.

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator

JUNE 26, 2001 SF, TARGARYENS, VALYRIA, SANSA, MARTELLS, AND MORE

[GRRM is asked about Sansa misremembering the name of Joffrey’s sword.]

The Lion’s Paw / Lion’s Tooth business (*), on the other hand, is intentional. A small touch of the unreliable narrator. I was trying to establish that the memories of my viewpoint characters are not infallible. Sansa is simply remembering it wrong. A very minor thing (you are the only one to catch it to date), but it was meant to set the stage for a much more important lapse in memory. You will see, in A STORM OF SWORDS and later volumes, that Sansa remembers the Hound kissing her the night he came to her bedroom… but if you look at the scene, he never does. That will eventually mean something, but just now it’s a subtle touch, something most of the readers may not even pick up on.

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(*) It was Arya who misremembered the name of Joffrey’s sword tho…

Unreliable Narrator 2.0

OCTOBER 05, 2002 SANSA’S MEMORY

[Note: This mail has been edited for brevity.]

… this is an inconsistency with ASoS more than an outright error. In ASoS, Sansa thinks that the Hound kissed her before leaving her room and King’s Landing. In ACoK, no kiss is mentioned in the scene, though Sansa did think that he was about to do so.

Well, not every inconsistency is a mistake, actually. Some are quite intentional. File this one under “unreliable narrator” and feel free to ponder its meaning

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Unreliable Narrator 3.0

NOVEMBER 27, 2007 GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ANSWERS YOUR QUESTIONS

Here’s a really particular question (which I realize means it probably won’t get asked in a general interview): In A Storm of Swords, there is a chapter early on where Sansa is thinking back to the scene at the end of A Clash of Kings when The Hound came into her room during the battle. She thinks in the chapter about how he kissed her, but in the scene in A Clash of Kings, this actually didn’t happen. Was that a typo or something? —Valdora

GRRM: It’s not a typo. It is something! [Laughs] ”Unreliable narrator” is the key phrase there. The second scene is from Sansa’s thoughts. And what does that reveal about her psychologically? I try to be subtle about these things.

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Sansa may be dead but Alayne is alive

APRIL 15, 2008 FUTURE MEETINGS, POVS, ARYA’S ROLE, EASTERN LANDS, AND ASSASSINS

[Will Sandor and Sansa meet?]

Why, the Hound is dead, and Sansa may be dead as well. There’s only Alayne Stone.

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A lot more dangerous than romantic

AUGUST 2, 2009 AS SER JORAH MORMONT…

weltraummuell: The Hound Oh please don’t cast an old guy for the Hound, his scenes with Sansa are so romantic and erotic, I couldn’t bear if it’d feel creepy all of a sudden. Well, that’s me making demands. LOL

GRRM: Re: The Hound Old guy? No, but… the Hound is still a whole lot older than Sansa, and was never written as attractive… you know, those hideous burns and all that… he’s a lot more dangerous than he is romantic.

kestrana: The Hound Yeah its a “girl always wants the bad boy” kind of thing although Sansa seems to pull something else out of him. It feels so wrong sometimes but I want to see them together again tee hee.

weltraummuell: The Hound Hehe, George, maybe you didn’t intend it, but he turned out to be a very erotic character to female readers. Especially since he’s mutilated and dangerous. Makes him unpredictable and vulnerable which is the most explosive aphrodisiac for a girl’s fantasy. ;)

weltraummuell: The Hound And I know from discussions on other board other women feel just the same about Sandor. He’s an absolute favourite with the ladies!

halfbloodmalfoy: The Hound LOL, you’re such a man. To many of us women, dangerous *is* attractive.

GRRM: The Hound But no one has any love for poor old Sam Tarly, kind and smart and decent and devoted…

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I played with it but I didn’t get the answer I was waiting for

JUNE 22, 2012 SWORD & LASER VIDEO PODCAST

GRRM: I am sometimes surprised by the reactions, of women in particular, to some of the villains. The number of women over the years who have written to me that their favorite characters are Jaime Lannister or Sandor Clegane [the Hound] or Theon Greyjoy… All of these are deeply troubled individuals with some very dark sides, who have done some very dark things. Nonetheless, they do draw this response, and quite heavily, I think, in the case of some of them, from my female readers in particular.

Veronica Belmont: I’m a big fan of the Hound, myself, actually.

Tom Merritt: Of Sandor? Really?

Veronica Belmont: Yeah, the Hound… Maybe it’s not because I feel any compassion towards them, I’m not really sure what the attraction is. Ah, I’m not going to call it attraction, actually. Let’s just say it’s a fascination, perhaps.

GRRM: [Chuckles] Well, I mean, fascination is one thing, but some of these letters indicate that there really is like a romantic attraction going on there. And I do know there’s all these people out there who are, as they call themselves, the “San/San” fans, who want to see Sandor and Sansa get together at the end. So that’s interesting, too.

Tom Merritt: The TV show has sort of played with that a little, and probably stoked those fires.

GRRM: Oh, sure. And I’ve played with it in the books. There’s something there, but it’s still interesting to see how many people have responded to it.

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I played with it but I didn’t get the answer I was waiting for 2.0

JUNE 23, 2015 GRRM Q&A AT THE SCIENCE FICTION BOOKSTORE IN STOCKHOLM

Question: “Is there any fan reactions that you have been surprised by, like is there a character that’s more popular than you thought or have people been shocked by something you didn’t think we would be shocked at?”

GRRM: “I’m reasonably certain what people will be shocked by. I knew that the Red Wedding would provoke a big reaction and it did. I was pretty confident that, you know, throwing Bran out the window and then killing Ned in the first book would get reactions, and indeed they did. All of those worked exactly the way it did to the extent that things that have surprised me, they tend to be smaller things. I guess I… Maybe I should not have, I don’t know. How do I phrase this without getting myself in terrible trouble… I guess I don’t understand women, but I was definitely, you know, way back when, surprised by the number of women who reacted positively to characters like Theon and the Hound as dashing, romantic figures. The san/san kind of thing took me by surprise, I must admit, and even more so the women who, and there are some, who really like Theon. So that surprised me.”

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Unreliable Narrator 4.0

DECEMBER 2016 ASKING GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ABOUT S@N/S@N

My question is regarding Sansa Stark. Her sexuality has evolved through every book and yet the memory that seems to stick the more with her in this regard is the night of the Blackwater. So I was wondering if you can expand on your view on what this is, since as before that night her interactions with Sandor Clegane weren’t really physical.

The night of the Blackwater, yes. Ahhh… Well, I’m not going to give you a straight answer on that hahaha… Uhmmm, but I would say that ahhh… you know a television show and a book each has its own strengths and weaknesses; there a re tools that are available to me as a novelist, that are not available to people doing a television show. And of course there are tools available to them, that are not available to a novelist, I mean they can lay in a soundtrack, they can do special effects, they can do amazing things that I can’t do, I just have words on paper. What can I do, well I can use things like the internal narrative, I can take you inside of territories… thoughts, which you can’t do in a TV show… Ahhh… You just have the words they speak, you see them from outside because the camera is external, while prose is internal, and I have the device known as “unreliable narrator”… Ahhh… Which again, they don’t have. So, think about those two aspects when you consider that night of the Blackwater.

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Do with it what you will.