#i should set up a patreon or something for those doodles.

[threefeline]

Another snerson

[fobnsfwdoodles]

Okay I thought I was tripping but I counted and there's about 92 requests in the hoard so this is y'all's semi consistent reminder that I love you so much and I'm excited about literally all the requests and I will do my best to fulfill them at a reasonable balance of speed and quality <3

due to the number of them I will likely be choosing with preference towards the oldest, my personal favorites, and random selected ones!

Thank you for being so patient and understanding! 🫶✨

[fandomfluffandfuck]

If you’re running short on prompts 👀

https://www.tumblr.com/silentwalrus1/189200475683/a-raunchy-patreon-doodle-of-steve

I am not running out of prompts at all, lol, but I'm lucky that so many people want to read my writing!

[Link] to fanart of Steve, he's facing away from the camera with his legs spread, he's wearing bright red sweatpants. There's an equally red speech bubble reading, "it ain't gonna fuck itself"

Something about this art set off a little bomb in my head.

At first, I was just pondering, just trying to spit ball some ideas, but then... all of a sudden, I couldn't stop thinking about Steve embracing his inner cat in those sweatpants that, for this exercise in horny™️, I will be turning into tiny little booty shorts. Because, y'know, reasons.

It's a lazy day around the house.

Steve and Bucky wake up late with the sun stretching into their bedroom through the blinds, heating up their room to a cozy temperature, which makes it nearly impossible to get up and move. And that sunny warmth doesn't even mention the body heat that has been added to the equation with the way they were wrapped around each other in their sleep. Spooning. It should be sweaty, but it isn't. Just a deep, bone melting heat that forms them from two bodies into a single, indistinguishable puddle.

When they are finally able to break away from the loving embrace of their bed, Steve isn't the first of them out of bed. Usually, he is. Instead, Bucky slips out. Steve follows his lover in a while...

Except, Steve doesn't bother to get dressed. What's the point? It's just them. However, Bucky has the decency to put on some sweats--no underwear, just sweats.

When Steve actually makes it all the way across the house, to the kitchen, Bucky hands him a steaming cup of coffee. Natural light streams it from outside here, too. Turning around, Bucky pretends to shield his eyes. He's laughing as he tells Steve to "put all that skin away, Stevie!" He doesn't really want him to, though. If anything, Bucky'd like to count every freckle on his fair skin for the millionth time. Kissing them all, too. But, hey, a little teasing never hurt anybody.

Besides, it's not like it gets under Steve's skin at all, he just smiles lazily and plasters himself to Bucky, purring, "oh, shut up, you like it."

Bucky laughs some more, patting Steve's head where it's planted on his shoulder. He does. He does like it.

Eventually, after their slow, syrupy breakfast, Bucky decides to shower. Steve doesn't feel like it. He's happy to keep his messy bedhead and the heat from their sunny awakening deep in his bones; he doesn't need the water, not even warm water. So, instead, he floats to their couch, lazing about to the white noise of the running shower, scrolling on his phone, until...

While Bucky is still in the shower, Steve has an idea. To execute it, he hauls himself up and pads back into their bedroom, slipping into those little shorts that Nat gifted him the other week. He's been waiting to break them out, intentionally keeping the early birthday gift a secret. The shorts are bright red and a sort of thin, sweatpant-like material. Cozy yet clinging. The fabric barely covers his ass. And, best of all, the shorts read, "it ain't gonna fuck itself," in white lettering across the back.

He slips right into them, and he throws on a lazy smirk while he's at it, wondering how long it'll take Bucky to notice what they say across his ass... wondering what Bucky's gonna do about it. Steve stretches, big and proud, groaning audibly as his body trembles--he's as smug as a that's gotten the cream, and Bucky's not even reacted to him yet!

It takes longer than Steve imagined for Bucky to notice, although, to be fair, Steve is sitting on the couch when Bucky comes back. He had wandered back to the living room and had gotten bored of standing, "innocently" standing, and channel surfing. Bucky must be deep conditioning his hair or something. Taking so long in the shower. So. Steve sat down, curled up comfortably, watching the TV passively.

It's not until Steve is feeling casually playful, beginning to feel a little restless, that he shifts--he had been curled up against Bucky's side before. So, when his boyfriend goes to the kitchen to refill his water bottle, Steve moves.

He stretches himself across the couch, turning around to lean against the back with his arms across the top and his legs spread as wide as they can be, across the bottom, while remaining bent at the knees. Steve arches his back for good measure, too.

Bucky comes back, water bottle in hand, and hums, "what're'ya doing, Stevie?"

Steve blinks his eyes slowly at his boyfriend. He shrugs, "jus' watchin' you."

Bucky smiles, popping his dimples. It's killer. He charms Steve, "can't ever get enough a' me, can ya?" And unceremoniously plops down next to him, somehow without noticing what's written across his ass. Instead of reading, he touches.

Bucky filthily squeezes his ass first, it's possessive and heavy and makes a flame kick up inside him, then he pushes the knuckle of his index and middle fingers into the dimples at the base of Steve's spine. Bucky doesn't even have to look to know where they are--muscle memory. He knows Steve's body better than Steve does. Getting reactions out of Steve that Steve didn't know he had.

Steve shivers all over.

Bucky hums and does it some more. Pressing.

Oh, that's nice. Kind of like a massage.

Bucky pats his ass, "oof, your boney fuckin' knees, Rogers," he huffs good naturedly, his hand moving from his backside to poking at him where his knee digs into his side.

Steve snorts. He thinks about retorting with, "yeah? And your thick fuckin' skull, Barnes," because he still hasn't noticed his shorts. He's noticed his ass, yeah, but not his shorts.

But, he doesn't say anything.

So, they sit there for a few minutes, with Bucky just mindlessly resting his hand on his ass. His other hand is casually resting on his own thigh... Steve wants both of his hands on him. Preferably more than his hands, too. He needs more pushing, it seems.

Steve pushes.

He arches his back more. Bucky pinches him, obviously expecting that he's just stretching. He's not. He's gambling for attention. Needy. Sticking his ass out and now looking at Bucky with intensity.

His gaze has to be burning into him.

Bucky feels it, asking, "what's gotten into y--" there's a pause. Bucky cuts himself off with a hungry noise because his eyes have landed on the prize. "Oh, hey-"

Bucky's hand moves to grab him. Not just resting now. Grabbing. Fingers sinking into his ass with bite.

"What's this little number, baby?"

Steve could purr. He's warm. He feels good. He's got Bucky's attention. What more could he want?

Steve gets more than he knows to want when Bucky saddles up behind him, pressing his sweatpant-clothed cock to Steve's ass.

"Mmmm," Steve hums, pleased.

"It ain't gonna fuck itself, huh? Who're you expecting to fuck it then? Me? Were you gonna go strutin' down the street if I didn't notice soon enough, honey?" Bucky chuckles, "had to get someone to fuck it. You just need it so bad, don't'cha?"

Steve has gone limp against the couch--his forehead is resting on the back of the sofa, and he's already breathing hard--as Bucky ruts into him. Rolling and grinding his hips against him in the most obscene way. Reminding Steve just how good he can fuck it. Bucky's words fuck him, too, not just the sinful rhythm of his god forsaken hips. Entering his ears and corrupting his brain--melting his brain, making him unable to remember anything but all the times Bucky's been inside him and has fucked him until he couldn't remember his own name.

Steve pushes back into the hold, purring more. He's got all of his attention, and he's reveling in it. Backing into the touch. Practically nuzzling him.

"Cat got your tongue, baby? I asked you something." Bucky's hands had both been on his hips, caging him between his broad chest and the couch, but he spares one of them to wind into Steve's golden hair. Messing it up even further. Shaking his head, jostling him like Steve needs the reminder of what's happening and who he's talking to.

It's delicious.

"Mmm-hmm," Steve hums low in his throat, just responding, barely remembering what Bucky asked him.

"You little asshole," Bucky teases, serious but his tone tinted by his smirk, "you think you can get anyone to fuck you--"

Oh.

Oops.

Oh, shit, he's in for it now.

Right. Bucky did ask if he was going to go put like this to get fucked, desperate for attention, didn't he? And Steve responded with an affirmation. Yeah. He's going to.

"--And be anywhere near as satisfied as you are when I'm through with you?" He tugs hard at Steve's hair and grinds forward harder.

Steve can't rustle up any real regret, though.

This is going to be good.

"You can't. You could go through guy after guy, and you're not gonna get anyone who makes you scream like I do, sweetheart." Bucky's whispering in his ear down, dragging his teeth down the side of his throat, "you're mine. You might be able to act all high and mighty, like you don't need me, but need I remind you of what you were just doin'?"

Steve moans.

The hard, hot line of his cock feels massive against Steve's ass. There's just two measly layers of fabrics between them. So. close.

Steve shakes all over, shivering intensely, but it must look like a nod to Bucky because he responds--

"You were just shoving your pussy out at me, wearin' a fuckin' sign that screams fuck me! Fuck me! You're desperate for it, baby. Shameless. Should get you a little collar so you know who you belong to, 'property of Bucky Barnes'."

Steve can't fucking move. He's gone entirely boneless. He's at Bucky's mercy. This. This is why he's so desperate. When Bucky fucks him up like this, without even fucking him, how can Steve not be so needy? He swears that cock is magic.

I hope you enjoyed 😘

[if-confessions]

Reader - sorry to those authors, but I really hate it when they put every single one of their posts in the general ‘interactive fiction’ tag. I end up blocking half the blogs that do it and scrolling right by the rest :/

Tumblr wilderness into action, where there is no real rule and the tagging "conventions" would probably not be followed anyway...

It is true that the tag is flooded with essentially everything barely related to Interactive Fiction nowadays, from questionably relevant asks to essentially shitpost polls.

With the #interactive fiction tag being the one-stop-for-all to find IF games*, it's not surprising some authors will tag everything this way to gain more followings or some sort of interaction***. In other terms, to stay relevant**. Even if that means flooding the tag with random stuff and burying other people's projects... *people use tags as a way to organise their posts, more than trying to be seen. **no shade to those authors doing this, it is a marketing strategy, even if a frustrating one for the targeted users. ***also not a guarantee to get interaction...

What do you think should be/not be allowed in the #interactive fiction tag? Should we have a consensus on a tagging etiquette? If so, how do we go at it?

Under the cut is my answer to the first question... so just me theoretically gatekeeping stuff because I can. And because no one will end up following those point, anyway.

What I think should be in there:

Project introductions (obviously) and teasers

Project updates (added content, change of status, etc...) and update teasers

Dev logs/periodical check in

Reviews (<- there's not enough of those)

Interactive Fiction resources (theory, history of the genre, gameplay systems, program resource lists [not tutorials, I would put that in #coding if or something], communities [discords, forums...])

Event announcements [Competitions, Jams, Award ceremonies...]

Interactive Fiction discourse (a.k.a. callout posts about community shenanigans, sometimes we need to be shown we are the black kettle)

Recommendations lists

Patreon/Ko-fi/Commission posts

What I think is irrelevantly tagged as interactive-fiction:

Asks in general (sorry, but we don't need anons proposing to characters...) save for the ones related to the categories above

Polls, same as for the asks. Unless it's directly related to above, nope, pass. Results of polls as well.

Just art posts (like portrait, settings, background, random doodles, etc...) that do not fall in any of the categories above UNLESS the project is a VN or asset heavy IF.

Inspo posts. Nope nope nope... That counts for playlists or pinterest-like mood boards* *unless it's character introductions, then see below

One like post about how much [coding/writing/marketing/other IF activity] is annoying/the worst/etc...

Those conga-line/tagging posts about personal questions

Organisations lists for tags/prompts/other pages, or FAQ

Honestly, the ask posts are the main ones flooding the tag. That's probably the most annoying one out there.

What I am on the fence about:

Character introductions: does this count as a teaser? Honestly, probably more in the irrelevant pile.

UI screenshots: kind of an update, also kind of superfluous...

Fan art stuff: from the author, I'd say no... but from the fandom, yeah...

Snippets/Prompts: eeeeehhhhh... does it count as like a teaser for the writing to expect in the game? or bonus content? except non-canon shit (that goes in the nope pile)

Bonus content.

I'm probably missing some types of posts... but there it is.

Do you have to follow this? No. I don't make the rules about what you should tag or how you should tag it. Do you think this is horseshit? Comment on the post (or send an ask)

[monstersandmaw]

Male triton Fae (Kaerio) x female character (Ellen) (sfw)

This was a commission for someone who appears to have infinite patience, so thank you very much for hanging on in there for so many months. I’m sorry, and I hope you enjoy this at last… It’s been up on my Patreon on early release, and now it’s time to put it up here.

It's the 'prequel' to the story with Adan, the Argonian-inspired marine iguana, and which you can find on Tumblr here. I don't think you really need to have read it to enjoy this one, but it might help a bit.

You can catch up on all my Fae Realm related posts and stories here on Patreon, but again, you don't need to in order to enjoy this. I hope.

Jaerhin - Prince of the Court of Fire aesthetic and info

Inikeira - Princess of the Court of Air aesthetic and info

'Poster boy' for the Fae Realm doodle

Fae Courts - 'wiki' style info post

Ystlynn - younger son of the Court of Spring, aesthetic and info

Cirdan - Prince of the Court of Winter, drawing and Fae Realm info

Fae seer/priest aesthetic, ideas, and fae world concepts

Content: serious injury to male character towards the beginning but it’s brief and not described in too much detail. Fluff, a dose of angst, and some more fluff. Sfw, with the odd touch/kiss. Word count: 9,385

___

The tranquillity of the waves lapping the shore always soothed her on a level she couldn’t quite articulate. Moving away from the city in her early twenties, leaving it all behind for a quieter life atop the cliffs where she could gather herbs and tend to the folks who needed it had been rewarding, for sure, but the sharp ache of loneliness did still lance through her every now and again.

Perhaps if someone came along one day who caught her eye, then she might go along with it, but for now Ellen was content enough with her books and her herbs and her remedies. The small flock of chatty chickens, all too fond of the sound of their own clucking voices, and the near-silent stray black cat who had more recently adopted her, were enough company for the time being.

Gathering samphire in the wake of the retreating tide one early summer morning, just as the sun was starting to peek above the glass-perfect horizon, a splash from a rock pool up ahead caught her attention and she stood up straight from her task to see a figure slumped on his front over a rock in the shallows.

Her eyes widened and her heart leapt into her mouth at the sight of him, and she thought for an awful moment that he was dead. His skin was glacially pale, like finest marble, and his hair was long and dark, spilling down over his shoulders and back, sticking to his skin like seaweed. He was completely naked, but as she stared openly at him, shocked into a stupor by his beauty and his unexpected presence, she noticed the harpoon sticking out of his back and she covered her mouth with one hand.

The basket of freshly-gathered seaweed completely forgotten, she raced over to him, the toes of her bare feet digging into the wet sand as she flew to him. He tilted his face up a little at her arrival, his gaze vague and his irises so black that she almost couldn’t make out his pupils. The harpoon was lodged in his back, mercifully well clear of his spine, but it was obvious that he’d been shot from behind. It had missed everything important but was still lodged in the muscle of his back. The water had washed a lot of the blood away, but from the looks of him, he didn’t have much left in him.

“Easy,” she said, trying not to panic. “I’m going to help you, alright? I’m a physician. Stay put, and I’ll be right back.” With that, she didn’t linger long enough to hear if he made any response, and turned and ran at full tilt back towards the cliffs and the winding, switchback path that would lead to her wooden hut.

Her lungs burned as she scrabbled up the last stretch, her muscles searing and cramping from the sudden exertion, but she pushed herself on, only daring to catch her breath when she reached her front door and burst inside. Grabbing the necessary supplies from various cupboards and shelves and stuffing them into another basket, Ellen took a few steadying breaths before hurtling back down to the beach.

“Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead,” she chanted over and over as she ran back to him.

He hadn’t moved and for a horrible moment she thought that he had slipped away, but when he gave a shuddering gasp, his fingertips just twitching slightly, relief washed through her.

It took a long time to tend to him, and in less than ideal conditions. The water and alcohol she used to clean the wound would have to be sufficient, and mercifully he passed out when she had only just begun to remove the harpoon’s barbed tip. It was a cruel weapon, made for latching into the flesh of dolphins and sharks which would then be hauled out of the water, and shipped off to where the nobility of the inland cities would consume them on laden tables, attended by servants and entertained by captive fae on iron chains. The sight of the weapon disgusted her but she hadn’t time to focus on that. He needed stitching up, and she was damned if she was going to let him die on her now.

It should have occurred to her that any ordinary human being would never have survived such injuries, but Ellen was so focused on the immediate task of saving his life that the thought never crossed her racing mind.

When she could do no more for him, she leaned back, exhausted, and glanced to her right and saw that the tide was creeping back in towards the wide, sandy cove.

“How the hell am I going to get you up the cliff?” she mused aloud, stroking his long hair back from his beautiful face; the long strands were encrusted here and there with salt and she picked them loose while she mulled it over. He looked tired and strained, with dark circles under his eyes, and he looked more than a bit undernourished, but he was undeniably beautiful. Ellen removed her thick woollen cloak and laid it over his slender shoulders, spreading it down his back to try and keep him warm and give him a bit of dignity for the time being.

As if summoned back to consciousness by her touch, his eyelids fluttered, long lashes dancing like butterfly wings on his pale, bruised-looking skin. He looked up at her from where he was still slumped over the smooth rock beneath him and tried to move.

“Shh, steady,” she smiled, easing back a little so that he didn’t have to strain himself to look up at her. “That was quite the injury… Don’t move too much just yet.”

“Where am I?” he croaked, his rough voice like a handful of grit in his mouth. “You’re… You’re…” but whatever he was going to say, he cut himself off and looked around apprehensively, his eyes wide with obvious horror.  

“Easy,” she said, trying to reassure the strange man. “I’ll need you to move in a minute because the tide is coming in. Do you think you can stand?”

He took an experimental draw of his lungs, winced, but then nodded.

“I’ll help you.”

It took… a long time.

Even with his light frame, he was unsteady on his legs to the point that a newborn deer might have fared better than he did. She clasped her cloak around his throat with a beautiful silver brooch - the only treasure she’d really kept from her life in the city before moving here - and slid her arm around his torso. Together they staggered and slipped up the path to the hut, and it was testament to her skills as a physician, trained in the city with the finest doctors and surgeons, that he didn’t rip his stitches open again. The wound was bleeding through the bandages, but when she inspected it briefly after taking the cloak off him, she found that it was just weeping after the exertion.

Ellen then laid the stranger down in her bed and he slid into sleep in a single, harsh exhale.

Exhaustion washed through her like a riptide and she staggered slightly, suddenly dizzy and weak after the frantic rush of racing to save his life and hauling him up the cliff path to her home. She parked herself in the chair beside the cold fireplace and took a moment to steady herself. The day was heating up now, and she had chores to attend to. Taking a deep breath, she rallied her strength and said, “Well, those chickens won’t take care of themselves…”

The stranger slept for the rest of the day, though she continued to check up on him in between her jobs. After retrieving her basket of samphire from the grasping foam of the incoming tide, she fed and greeted her slightly disgruntled chickens and collected their eggs. That done, she set about drawing some water from the well she’d had sunk when she’d first moved in by two very friendly minotaurs who lived only a mile or so away.

By the time Ellen had caught up on the day’s chores, the sun was sinking low behind the wind-blasted trees atop the cliffs, and she had just begun to grill some fish for their evening meal when she heard a grunt behind her in the one-roomed hut. She’d thought about asking the minotaurs to help her extend the small building, but it hardly seemed necessary. Maybe one day, but for now, this was enough.  

“How are you feeling?” she asked, lifting the fish away from the heat, and the man blinked, staring around at the hut with wide, fearful eyes. “It’s alright,” she smiled. “My name is Ellen. You’re safe here.”

He gasped softly as she spoke her name, but other than that, he barely reacted. He still looked too surprised to find himself in someone else’s house. She supposed that was natural.

“Listen, do you want something to eat? You should try and start to recover your strength…”

He looked warily at the grilled fish and the small, charcoal cooking fire in the corner of the room, but unmistakable interest flared in his dark eyes and he licked his lips almost unconsciously.

She returned her attention to the meal, not wanting to overwhelm him. When she turned back to him, she found that he was sitting up and was making no attempt to cover himself whatsoever. He just sat there, gazing around at her home as if he’d never seen anything like it before.

“It’s not much,” she said, blushing. “And I wasn’t exactly expecting guests when I found you this morning.”

“It’s nice,” he murmured. “You saved my life,” he added, lightly touching the bandages around his ribcage that held the dressing in place on his back. His fingers were delicate and they trembled slightly as he moved them along the fabric. “You asked no price,” he whispered.

“You’re a tough one, for sure. Just having someone get better is reward enough for me,” Ellen said with a cheery note to her voice. The truth rang through her words, and it seemed to shock the young man.

“You know your craft,” he said. “You have no magic.” The way he spoke in short, softly-articulated sentences seemed odd, but she shrugged.

“Very few of us physicians actually have magic these days,” she said. “I know what I know, and I do what I can.”

He stared at her intently, and it was almost unnerving. “You’re very kind.”

Ellen had to bite her lips together as the blush crept up further her cheeks. “As I said, I do what I can. Now, are you hungry?”

He shook his head, but in the end she managed to convince him to cover up, and to eat something by saying he’d undo all her good work if he starved to death.

Shortly after finishing, he lay back on the bed and was asleep in minutes. She hadn’t even managed to ask him his name.

Deciding not to risk waking him by clattering around any more, she stepped outside into the balmy evening and closed up the chicken coop for the night. The cat slunk out of the shadows of the herb garden and trotted boldly over to her, his one white sock flashing in the dim remnants of the daylight. He butted his head against her calf and meowed a soft greeting, so of course, she stooped to give him a cuddle.

Ellen had no intention of sharing her tiny cot with the naked stranger, so she drew some spare blankets out of a cupboard and laid them down on the floor beside the empty fireplace. It was warm enough that she didn’t need much covering, so she used most of them as padding to lie on, dragged a cushion from a nearby chair, and drew a simple sheet up over her body to keep the chill of the middle of the night from her skin. Sleep was a long time coming, and for at least an hour, she lay staring up at the figure of the sleeping stranger in her bed. It felt so odd to have someone else in the cabin with her, but despite his quirky behaviour, she didn’t feel threatened by him.

As dawn crept through the small windows of her modest hut, Ellen woke with a soft sigh. Sleeping on the floor was hardly comfortable, but she’d got a good enough night’s sleep, and she stretched before turning her gaze up to her bed where the young man lay.

Except that in his place was not the young man she had remembered from the night before.

Lying under the blankets, though with its torso half exposed, was something from a fairytale or perhaps even a nightmare. The creature that lay there had blueish-green skin and delicately webbed hands, each finger ending in a talon the colour of lapis lazuli. Its face was still vaguely humanoid, but its eyes were almond shaped and huge, resting closed in sleep, and its nose was flat with slit nostrils, and thin, dark blue lips were drawn shut in a tight line. It had no hair, and its ears were marked by a three-pointed fin. Atop its head was another fin, like a crest, and each one glimmered softly like the scales of a fish, first seeming green, then blue, then silver as she stared in horror at it.

Larger scales glimmered down its turquoise neck and the skin on its chest was a dusky blue highlighted with paler green. It would have been beautiful to behold had she not been so terrified. “Fae,” she hissed, staggering to her feet and reeling backwards.

The creature’s eyes opened in a flash and when it registered the revulsion and fear on her face, it raised its hand and inspected what it found, flexing its fingers and spreading the webbing that stretched between them. Turning its eyes back on Ellen, it opened its mouth and she saw a row of savage, pointed teeth.

“Oh gods protect me,” she hissed, snatching up the iron fire poker from its hook beside the grate and brandishing it like a rapier between them. Not that she had the faintest idea how to use a rapier.

The creature’s fin-like ears drew back and it hissed like a cat at the sight of the iron. “Please,” it rasped, and she recognised the voice of the man from the day before in the guttural speech she heard now. “You saved me. I will not harm you. I just… I couldn’t hold this form…”

“You’re a… a fae, aren’t you?” she snarled. “Gods, I can’t believe I let you in here. I can’t believe I…” the colour drained from her cheeks as she realised that she’d told her true name to this creature. “Oh gods.”

“Please,” he said, shuffling and wincing as he tried to sit up. “I swear by the magic in my blood, by my connection to the Fae Realm, by the water that is my home, that I will not harm you.” His voice was strange, as though his tongue had difficulties with human speech around the razor sharp row of teeth in his mouth. “I will leave, but… I… I’m not sure I have the strength to shift again so soon.”

Ellen scowled, confused.

With a sigh, the fae lifted the blankets and revealed that his lower half was a powerful, muscular tail; all glimmering scales and soft, delicate looking fin, though she noticed on closer inspection that each fin was tipped with a barb that reminded her of lion fish. Beautiful but deadly like all Fae…

“Please, let me rest a little while longer,” he said, his voice cracking with obvious fatigue. “Then I will return to the sea, and I will attempt to find the fissure between the veil. I will never trouble you again.”

“I told you my name,” she hissed.

“A gift I will treasure,” he said, “And a trust I will never betray.”

“The only way it’d be fair is if you told me yours in return,” she snarled, still clutching the iron fire poker. “And what the hell are you doing here in the Mortal Realm in the first place?”

His shoulders slackened a little and he tipped his head back against her pillow. “That’s a rather longer story than I have the strength for at the moment. I will tell you though, if you’d truly like to know.”

Ellen just stood there, her breathing fast and shallow, her heart hammering in her ears. A Fae, here, in her cottage. In her bed.

The closest she’d come to one was in the bustling city market where there had been one in an iron cage, but that one had been the size of a skinny child and had had wings like a dragonfly and skin like hoarfrost on glass. There was an eerie kind of beauty to the Fae lying in her bed, with his inhuman eyes, vaguely reminiscent of the deep sea fish that sometimes got tangled up in the fishermen’s nets, and the iridescent blues and greens of his scales were almost mesmerising. She had to shake herself. Everyone knew the stories: Fae would trick you into giving up your soul and leave you nothing but a husk; Fae would steal your name and compel you to come back to their home realm where they would do unspeakable things to you…

And here she was with one in her bed who knew her true name. “Fool,” she whispered to herself.

“If I tell you my name,” he said, surprising her, “Will you trust me?”

“Not a chance,” she said. “But it’d be a start.”

“Kaerio,” he murmured. “My True Name is Kaerio. As a Fae, I cannot lie; you know it to be truth.”

And she did. She felt the truth of it hit her in the chest like a physical blow. “Kaerio,” she murmured, turning the sound of it over on her tongue. He shuddered violently under the covers and she looked at him. “What…?”

He chuffed a laugh, raw and devoid of humour. “I never thought I’d ever hear a human call my name…” he said. “We have stories about you too, to frighten our children…”

“Yeah, well, I never imagined I’d have a damned fae in my bed,” she snapped. “I should have known you weren’t human! No one would survive an injury like that if they weren’t… you know… How did you come to have a hunting harpoon in your back anyway?”

Kaerio sighed deeply and rolled carefully onto his side. His fluke flopped off the end of the bed, spreading its full width and somehow looking like hot-folded iridescent glass. It was stunning and fascinating, and she found herself staring openly at it.

When she looked up at him, his glassy eyes were fixed on her face. He had no white sclera - his large, almond-shaped eyes were like polished jet, and just as hard and cold as he gazed unblinkingly at her. She flushed unexpectedly under his scrutiny and he offered a soft, closed-lipped smile before speaking. “There was an attack on the Court of Water,” he said slowly, his gruff voice deep and sonorous as the high tide against the cliffs.

“The Court of Water?” she asked.

He hummed softly as he nodded. “There are twelve Courts in the Fae Realm, each ruled over by a prince or princess of the lesser Fae…” he tilted his head curiously at her. “You know nothing of this?”

“Why would I? We’re not exactly taught the political structure of the Fae Realm at school. We’re taught to be afraid of your kind from birth.”

His grin was lopsided and showed too many teeth. “Likewise,” he snorted. “Well, there’s always been animosity between certain Courts. I serve in the guard of the princess of the Court of Water, and I am also a messenger of sorts. I carry messages from the House of the Sea to court, and do my prince and princess’ bidding whenever a message needs to be taken elsewhere in the Realm. Providing it is reached by waterways, of course,” he added with a shrug.

“I… I don’t fully understand,” Ellen said, and instead she asked, “But… how did you end up here?”

Kaerio sighed. “I was bringing a message from our princess to the Prince of the Winter Court. He has some sway with the Court of Fire, and it was believed that the attack came from them. She hoped that Prince Círdan would be able to convince Prince Jaehrin to call off the attack… I have to go back,” he said, his head drooping despondently. “I never made it to the Court of Winter and… I don’t know what things are like there. The castle could still be under attack… My people…” His voice broke and he bit back a choked sob.

“I’m not going to pretend to understand the politics of what’s going on here, but none of that tells me how you ended up in the Mortal Realm…”

He swallowed his hurt for a moment and looked directly at her. “There were fire-charges and spells raining down from the ships as they bombarded our defences. I dove deep to avoid them and must have found one of the tears in the veil between our realms. They exist all over the place, but most of them are guarded by waystones or some kind of sentry. This was just… there. I’d swum through it before I knew what had happened, and I needed to surface. When I did, there was a fishing boat nearby, and the next thing I know there are spears and bolts hissing down around me.” He shifted his ribs a little and said, “I took one in the back and I must have shifted in panic. I’m not really sure. I rarely use this form.”

“Why not?”

“There’s very little need for legs in my line of work,” he said wryly.

“What will you do now then?” she asked, realising with a jolt that she had lowered her arm and her grip on the fire poker had relaxed to the point that she was almost about to drop it. Taking a deep breath and deciding that while he had his tail he couldn’t exactly leap at her and disembowel her with his claws from where he lay, she set it back down and sank into a chair at a safe distance from him.

“I need to heal,” he said. “It shouldn’t take long, but in the Mortal Realm I’m cut off from the Fae magic, so I don’t know… I… If I were strong enough to swim down to the gateway I could go home.”

“You want me to check the wound then?” she asked.

Kaerio was surprisingly sheepish as he nodded.

“Keep those claws to yourself,” Ellen growled as she pushed herself upright and crossed to him. On the way, she grabbed a pair of scissors from a side table and he went rigid at the sight of them.

He fell completely still as she laid her hands on him, but a second later a shiver ran the length of his body and he gasped.

Pausing, Ellen asked, “Did I hurt you?”

With a shake of his head, he fell still again, jaw set grimly, watching her while she brought the scissors to the bandages. It was only as she realised that these ones were iron and not steel, that she faltered. If she didn’t touch his skin with them, he’d be alright, so she continued, being doubly careful this time, and when he was unwrapped, she set them back on the table, out of sight.

The relief that washed through him was tangible. “Sorry about that,” she said and he gasped as she laid her fingertips on his ribcage, inspecting the wound.

“Your hands are cold,” he half-giggled and half-gasped.

“Sorry.”

“Cold hands, warm heart,” he grinned. “At least, that’s what they say at home. Not sure if you have that saying here. Do you? Have it here, I mean?”

Ellen frowned and snorted at the same time. “Are you nervous, Kaerio?” she purred playfully, overcome with a sudden rush of confidence. Perhaps it was his unexpected burst of nerves that egged her on.

“No,” he blurted, turning his face away, his fin-like ears tucking flat against his head.

“Well,” she said, poking carefully at the edges of the puncture wound with her fingertips. “You’ve healed miraculously overnight. It seems that your abilities have come with you from the Fae Realm. I wouldn’t recommend fighting a war just yet, but you should be able to swim at least.”

His muscles went slack with relief and he reached tentatively for her hand. When she didn’t immediately recoil, he took her fingers gently in his and ran the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. “Thank you,” he said. “What can I offer you as repayment?”

“You healed,” she said, still not withdrawing her hand from his cool, polite grip. “I told you, that’s all I want from any patient. Especially from a Fae. I don’t want anything else from you.”

He nodded. “That… That is not… That would not normally be… enough…”

She rolled her eyes and stepped back. “I can’t vouch for how well it’d hold up to you changing your form though. And I can’t carry you down to the beach.”

“One more day,” he said, sounding oddly reluctant. “May I trespass on your hospitality and patience for one more day?”

In fact, he ended up staying for two more days. As much as her wariness was still very present, her curiosity about his world surged to the forefront and she found herself sitting in a chair beside the bed while he told her as much as he was able to about the Fae Realm where he lived.

“There are twelve Courts, as I said,” he explained as he rested his weight on one arm, still lying on his side amongst her sheets and blankets. Every now and again his tail would twitch animatedly, his fluke lifting slightly in the manner of someone drumming their fingers on a tabletop while talking. “There are the four Elemental Courts of Fire, Water, Earth, and Air, and each of them have their own noble houses - such as the one I serve, the House of the Sea. There are the Seasonal Courts of Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, and then there are the Solar Courts of Dawn, Day, Twilight and Night.”

Ellen nodded but remained quiet.

“The territory and influence of each court varies hugely. We are all ruled over by the Seelie and the Unseelie Fae, but they trouble us very little. So long as what we do poses no threat to the fabric of the Fae Realm itself, then they let our Courts squabble as we please. Someone is always pushing for more power, more control… it’s…” he waved a taloned hand, the tiny scales on his fingers sparkling in the summer light that poured in through the open doorway and window in an attempt to cool the room a little, “… tedious…” he finished.

There seemed to be something more than what he told her, but she didn’t push it. “And… forgive me, but I’ve only ever seen perhaps one fae other than you… What… What do your kind look like?”

“As varied as there are fish in the sea,” he laughed. “The lesser royalty - the princes and princesses of our Courts - tend to look mostly human… ish… Some have wings like butterflies or moths, while others have bone structure that’s definitely not quite the same as humans, but for the most part, the royal ones are not like me at any rate. Us lower Fae, the kelpies and shrikes, tritons and wraiths, have more monstrous forms. Of course, it’s said that our dear royalty also have ‘other’ forms which they choose not to take very often…”

“Other forms?”

“Monstrous forms, but they pride themselves on their exquisite beauty… No one wants to serve a creature who is anything less than the epitome of perfection after all…”

Ellen scowled at that, but who was she to judge the beauty standards of another culture, let alone an entirely different realm?

She asked Kaerio questions until his voice was hoarse and she eventually realised how long she’d been making him talk. Embarrassed and chagrined, she offered him water and food, both of which he took more readily this time.

As she sat on the edge of the bed to offer him the plate of hot, steamed fish, he gazed up at her, his features considerably softer now.

“What?” she asked, irritated by how unusually flustered she was.

“I’ve never met a human before,” he said. “You’re very beautiful.”

Whatever she’d been expecting him to say, it hadn’t been that. “Oh.”

“Have I offended?” he asked, a playful note in his voice.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You know you haven't. But I am wary of the kinds of stories we’re told about you…”

“Oh?” he asked, pushing himself upright and leaning against the wooden headboard behind him before taking the bowl of food from her. His claws scraped slightly on her fingers as she passed it to him and she fought off a little shiver.

“Yeah,” Ellen muttered, standing up and smoothing out her skirt unnecessarily. “It’s said you’ll charm us into falling in love with you.”

He snorted. “Why would we do that?”

The question took her by surprise. “I have no idea. But whenever someone goes missing, especially in rural communities, it’s always assumed that the Fae took them… More likely the cold or a wild cat or something if you ask me,” she added. “But then again, here you are.”

“And am I making you fall in love with me?” he asked dryly. “Is my unusual body so enticing?” There was a nasty bitterness in his voice that made her brows knit together in a frown.

Instead of scoffing at him the way he obviously assumed she would, she said quietly, “I think you’re very beautiful too.”

Kaerio nearly choked on a mouthful of his lunch.

Satisfied, and a little bit embarrassed, Ellen beat a hasty retreat with the excuse that she should have let the chickens out by now.

When she returned, Kaerio was asleep again, the empty plate resting in his slack hands, and she took the chance to look at him properly. Yes, he was beautiful.

By the time he had recovered enough to shift again, she watched him do it with the fascination of a scientist. His tail split and with a horrible cracking of bone, he twitched and jerked, the scales melting into his pale skin until the figure of the man she had first found lay before her, sweaty and breathing hard and clutching his ribs with one hand. His wound - which was beyond the reach of his fingers - was clearly still painful, even if it had almost completely healed. Winded, Kaerio looked up at her bashfully and wheezed, “Isn't this a more attractive form for you?”

She shrugged. “I’m not going to lie, you’re very pretty like this, but I think I almost prefer to see you as you are. Besides, you’ve got more colour when you’re a triton. You look like a corpse with all that pale skin…” she grinned.

He laughed weakly and sat up.

“Also you have absolutely no modesty when you’re a human,” she added quickly, chucking her cloak at him to cover up his privates.

He grinned but dutifully covered himself and said, “You’re a doctor. There’s no shame in a naked body…”

“No,” she said, “But you’re no longer in need of my help. It’s indecent.”

He stood carefully, swaying a little as he struggled to find his balance. “Perhaps I do need your help still,” he said quietly.

Ellen rolled her eyes at him but didn’t refuse him her arm as she led him down the path towards the beach.

“I suppose this is goodbye,” she said as she stood there at the tide line. Each stroke of the sea against the beach felt like claws reaching to drag him away and she couldn’t explain the lump she felt in her throat.

Kaerio read her expression clearly and stepped close. He brought his hand to her jaw and cupped her cheek, thumbing gently at her cheekbones as her eyes sparkled with unexpected tears. “What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be pleased to see me gone…”

Ellen found herself shaking her head, her hair falling loose around her shoulders, tugged free by the stiff sea breeze. “I’ve… I’ve been alone here since I left the city…” she said. “I can’t believe I found…” Found what? Friendship? Companionship? “Found… whatever this has been… with one of the Fae…”

That seemed to surprise him. “I never asked you about your life,” he said, shame ringing through his words like a temple bell. “All I’ve done is talk about myself for two days…”

She smiled weakly. “I asked you, remember? I made you talk yourself hoarse with stories of your homeland…”

“I could try and come back,” he suggested and her heart leapt unbidden to her throat.

“It’s too dangerous, surely?” she said without conviction.

Kaerio’s dark eyes - seemingly human but with a strange depth to them that spoke of the fathomless depths of the sea - bore into her. “I think…” he said carefully, as if hardly daring to believe what he was saying, “I think it is you who has bewitched a Fae, human, and not the other way around. For you, I would risk returning. If you wish it of me.”

“Yes,” she breathed, trembling all over, and not from the wind.

“Then as soon as I have done my duty and delivered the message to Prince Círdan, I will return to you. I swear it. As my True Name is Kaerio, I swear to you that I will return to you.”

Something snapped in the air between the two of them and she gasped. The word of a Fae once given was a powerful thing. She nodded. “Be safe.”

He traced another arc across her cheek once more and unclasped her cloak. As he laid it across her outstretched arm, he bowed his head and kissed her hand.

Watching him walk into the waves wrenched strangely at her heart and she drew the cloak to her nose, inhaling the scent of him as he abandoned his human form, becoming little more than a ripple of green and blue amongst the shifting hues of the water. A second later his head cleared the surface again and he waved once at her before disappearing in a flash of sparkling light and a slap of his fluke.

Just when she’d begun to think he wouldn’t return, as she quilted a new blanket together by the light of the fire and in the middle of the worst summer storm she’d yet weathered in her little hut, barely protected by the twisted broom trees that clung to the edges of the cliff, someone pounded on her door.

Ellen leapt from the fireplace in alarm and flung open the door to a face full of rain and wind. Standing there, shivering and completely naked, was Kaerio.

She gasped his name and ushered him inside. “What the hell are you doing here in all this weather?” she chided him, steering him towards the fire and scrambling to fetch a towel to dry him off.

His teeth were chattering so badly he couldn’t respond immediately and she pressed a mug of hot tea into his frozen fingers a moment later. While he was simultaneously thawing out and drying off, she fished out a pair of old work trousers that she thought might fit him, even if they would be a little on the short side, and a linen shirt and round-necked, woollen pullover. Once he’d stuffed himself into them, and a pair of socks with which he seemed completely fascinated, he grinned up at her.

“Better?”

“Infinitely. How are you?”

“Apart from being startled out of my wits by the sudden re-appearance of a certain Fae in the middle of a ferocious storm? Fine,” she laughed, and was answered with a white-toothed smile.

“I’m glad,” he said, turning his attention to the steaming tea in his hands. “I thought of you often.”

“You’ve been gone two weeks,” she said. “I thought you weren’t coming back. What on earth possessed you to return tonight of all nights?”

“It’s the first chance I’ve had,” he shrugged. “And the weather wasn’t so bad on our side of the veil…” He looked up at her with his unnaturally dark eyes alight with concern. “Are the storms always this bad here?”

She shrugged and threw another log on the fire before drawing up a chair beside him. The firelight gilded his pale cheeks beautifully, and while he was hauntingly attractive in this form, she found she missed his even stranger triton form. “Some are. This isn’t unusual for this time of year. How did your wound heal, by the way?”

“Beautifully,” he said, rolling his shoulder and stretching out his previously-injured side as if to demonstrate. “It aches a bit sometimes, but it makes me think of you and your touch, so I don’t mind.” His paper-white cheeks flushed dark at that, and she laughed.

“I missed you too,” Ellen admitted.

They shared a bed that night, though he kept his touches chaste, limiting himself merely to holding her as the rain lashed the cabin.

When they woke in the morning, he had managed to remain in his human form and they walked along the beach together, picking up strange bits of debris that the storm had flung onto the sand. He found her a shell that she’d never seen before and told her that it was from the Fae Realm.

“When we get home I’ll drill a hole in it and hang it up,” she smiled, taking the clam-like lid of the shell from him and turning it in the light to make it glimmer like a pearl.

“They’re said to bring luck and love,” he commented.

She shot him a look and said, “Well, you came first but perhaps it’s a confirmation from the universe…”

Again, his cheeks flushed and he looked away.

“Am I wrong?”

His hands strayed to her hips and he made her halt, gazing at her with those deep eyes. “I shouldn’t do this,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Court you, fall for you… It’s… It’s madness. But… I cannot deny my feelings for you. You are a magnificent woman, Ellen. You’re smart and talented and I cherish the memories of our conversations, few as they may have been in number so far.”

Her heartbeat hammered against her ear drums and she licked her lips nervously. “So far?” she asked, staring up at him through her lashes.

Kaerio nodded. “I… I hope to return… The conflict at home has passed, much as the storm from last night has eased. The Court of Fire has agreed not to launch any more attacks on us, and in return we have agreed to allow them passage across the widest river in our kingdom. There’s a small finger of our land that extends along their territory, and they wish access to the river… Our princess agreed to let them use our ferries, but not to build the bridge they requested.”

“Is that going to be enough for them?” she asked apprehensively, very aware of his palms on her hips still.

“It’s… For now, it’s enough.” He tilted her chin up with a delicate touch of his curled fingers. “And if you will allow me, I would like to return to you more frequently.”

With a smile, she accepted.

By the end of the summer, as the autumn sea mists rolled in and choked the land in drenching fog that chilled her to the bone for days at a time, she had spent many an afternoon on the sands with him, both in his triton form and his human, though mostly in his triton to save him the effort and pain of shifting.

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” he’d asked on one particular occasion as she lay in his arms while he trailed his claws through her hair.

She replied by pressing her hand flat against his stomach and stroking the smooth scales there with fascination and affection. “You’re beautiful. Why would I mind?”

He’d smiled and kissed her head, and had remained as he was.

The winter weather made their visits harder. Shivering and soaked, he would stagger up the path to the hilltop and she would welcome him inside, but it was impractical to say the least.

“Kaerio, you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” she said as snow fell thick outside and chunks of ice floated like scum in the wide bay beyond. This time he’d arrived with a bleeding scalp from a chunk of debris in the stormy water and had needed patching up. “It’s… It’s taking a toll on you…”

The triton had embraced her, his human arms encircling her and holding her tight to him. “I can’t… not come and see you. I need you…” he said. “I… I’m bound to you, Ellen. I’m yours.”

Her heart clenched and she clutched at him. “Unless you take me to the Fae Realm forever, I -”

He cut her off by jerking backwards, eyes wide. “Ellen,” he breathed.

“What?”

“Do you make such a suggestion in earnest?” his gaze darted frantically between her eyes, searching her face for any artifice or deceit. When he found neither, he whispered, “You… You would really do that? Offer… that?”

“I can’t see another way to be with you,” she said. “I have no real ties here. There are other healers in the area, and… well… you said that humans are treated exceptionally well in the Court of Water. I could be free if I came to live with you…”

“You would give up all this? For me?” he whimpered, his eyes glazing with tears.

“Yes.”

Kaerio was clearly stunned, and made her promise to think it over. “I would have to make arrangements anyway,” he said. “I have a small cabin on the edge of the sea, though I don’t use it very often. It could be made habitable - comfortable - for you.” Excitement blazed in his eyes, and over the next three visits, all he could talk about was the advances he had made in preparing it for her.

Ellen, meanwhile, sold her chickens to a young man a few farms across who promised to look after them and asked no questions about why she wanted to sell them. She prepared her few meagre belongings and packed a large sack full of the clothes and items she wished to bring along. Kaerio had promised that she would be provided for there, so she packed only the things that meant the most to her.

Her triton went through the plan for getting her through the veil, how the magic would feel as it encased her and protected her from the water and the pressure, and how she would need to take it easy as she adapted to the Fae Realm. Just as Fae who slipped through the places where the barriers were frail found themselves unable to use their magic, weaker and more vulnerable to iron and rowan wood, so humans often felt dizzy and almost feverish in their first few days in the Fae Realm as ambient magic coursed through them and the strange, rich foods settled into their bodies.

Dancing with excitement on the shore, bag in hand, she waited for Kaerio on the day he had promised.

She waited while the sun climbed higher and the seagulls wheeled around her. The weather was freezing but bright; the winter day clear and still. The waves lapped gently at the sand, and all was perfect for a journey across the barrier.

She waited, fear fizzing away inside her, as the sun passed its zenith and began to sink down.

Tears came and went as she paced the shore, terrified that something had happened to him.

Eventually, near the deepening chill of sunset, a movement in the water caught her eye and she darted forwards, her thick leather boots splashing in the shallows. “Kae?”

The triton powered through the water and she crouched beside him as he hauled himself out of the reach of the waves, sending water splashing.

Ellen searched his body for sign of injury, but he seemed alright. “What happened? Where were you? I’ve been so worried.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and at the sound of his voice she froze. His tone was cold. “You can’t come with me.”

She staggered, mind and body reeling. “What? But… we’ve been preparing for weeks…  What’s changed?”

He shook his head and twitched his gaze back to the sea as if something might come boiling out of the waves after him like a kraken from the deep. “You can’t come with me, and…” he choked suddenly but forced himself to go on. “And I cannot come to see you again. You’ll be in danger if I do.”

Ellen’s whole world slid sideways and she crumpled softly onto her knees beside him, heedless of the water and the cold. “What?” she whispered. “No… No, Kae, I love you… We were going to… This… This can’t be happening.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his words hollow. “You can’t come with me, and I don’t have long. I have to go.”

“No,” she cried, grasping for him. His skin was slippery from the water, like a landed fish straight from the ocean, and he rolled away from her, shuffling back into the water. “No! Kae, please! Tell me why! Please, just tell me… Tell me what I did wrong… You owe me that much.”

His fins were pinned back tightly against his body - a sure sign of his own distress - and he shook his head. “It isn’t you, Ellen,” he said. “I can’t explain it and I cannot lie, and I’m so sorry. It’s not worth the risk. I’m not worth the risk for you. I have to go. Do not try to follow,” he added when he caught the light in her eyes. “It’s too deep and you’ll die without my magic. Promise me…”

“I promise,” she repeated numbly. A larger wave washed up the beach and caressed her legs with its icy touch. She barely felt it.

“Ellen…” he crooned, pausing a little way off.

She didn’t hear him. Tears rolled down her cheeks, mingling with the salt water that swirled around her.

Kaerio crawled back up to her and laid his hand on her thigh. She stared at the paper-thin webbing that stretched between his fingers and hissed, “The stories were right after all. You were going to break my heart all along, weren’t you?”

His talons pricked her skin through her soaked trousers as his fingers clenched suddenly. “I’m sorry,” he said again but she gritted her teeth.

“Go,” she sobbed. “Go if it’s so important to you. Thank you for at least coming to tell me.”

The triton backed away into the water but lingered a little longer as she stumbled to her feet and dragged the canvas sack back up the beach. It felt like the weight of the whole world as she hauled it back up the cliff path. At the top of the winding route she paused and looked back just in time to see his fluke flash in the last of the daylight before she turned away. “Should have known better than to trust a Fae,” she spat in a bitter whisper.

The hut was dark and empty, like a shell stripped of life, an empty hive with no bees.

She would rebuild. She would survive the winter and she would put her promises of love to the Fae behind her. Sour thoughts swirled in her head that he’d never intended to take her with him after all, that he’d only wanted his summer fun with her and now that it was winter, he had moved on. She told herself this over and over until she believed it.

Seasons passed and though she looked out at the sea when she gathered the samphire and sea cabbage from the rocks and the shore, she never hoped to see him again and he never came back. A pod of migrating orca spouted spray into the air one calm evening and she half dared to hope that the movement was Kaerio, checking in on her, but they passed on their way north and left the cove still and silent, with only the gentle hush of the sea itself.

Months became years, and while she wrote to her family in the city, she never went back. Her niece came to visit one spring, which brought a much needed rush of life to the old place. Ellen had taken the minotaurs’ advice and extended the hut a little bit over the years, and she turned the spare room into a bedroom in anticipation of the girl’s arrival.

Yes, her joints ached a little more and she had to squint to read things clearly, but she felt invigorated by her lively niece’s presence. It was all going so well until that filthy reptilian Fae had shown up in almost the same state as her Kaerio had done on so many nights, cold and sluggish from the water and in need of some tenderness.

Everything inside her had screamed to chase the Fae away, to stake him with iron and throw him back into the sea where he could never hurt another again, but the laughter in her niece’s eyes at his jokes, the way Adan pitched in to help without expecting anything in return - unusual to say the least for a Fae - made her hesitate.

Between the two of them they even convinced her over time that perhaps things had ended wrongly with Kaerio, that the growing shadow in their land could have made him afraid for her, that perhaps he had done the only thing he could think of to make her stay away. She would never fully forgive him for not just telling her the truth, but she let her hardened heart soften a little at the cocky young Fae’s assurances that he would at least look for Kaerio when he went home.

“Aunt Ellen?” her niece asked as they stood in the doorway after waving Adan off that final time. “Are you alright?”

The reptilian Fae had strode off with the confidence and swagger of a young knight on a quest, and she had to smile. Ellen closed the door and sighed. “No,” she said. “It’s been forty or so  years since I last saw Kaerio…”

Her beautiful niece smiled, hearing her unvoiced fears, and stepped close. “He’ll still love you,” she said. “And if he doesn’t, he doesn’t deserve your love in return.”

The fact that the girl had seen that Ellen had never stopped loving him moved her deeply. Perhaps she hadn’t even realised it herself until then. She smiled a watery smile and pulled the girl close and kissed her forehead. “You promise me you’ll be careful who you give your heart to, my darling?” she said, throat tight with emotion. “Even this Adan…”

She nodded and Ellen kissed her again before bustling about the hut, clearing up in the wake of their guest’s departure.

When her boots hit the sand that evening and she saw Adan standing there in the water with the figure of a human on his arm, her breath caught in her chest. His hair had turned silver-grey but it was still long - longer than ever now - and his eyes were still the same; still dark and still kind.

Ellen’s heart shattered.

Kaerio looked breathtakingly handsome. He had put on a bit of muscle and weight since she’d last seen him too, no longer the scrawny, half-starved young man he had been. His skin was also darker, as if he’d spent more time in the sun. There were scars on his cheek and neck, and as Adan fastened a cloak - which had been kept dry by magic, she supposed - about his shoulders her feet faltered and she just stood there, mute, afraid to go forward and afraid to go back. Kaerio brought a hand to cover his mouth and tears began to track down his cheeks at the sight of her.

With a gentle push at her back from the hand of her niece, she approached him.

Adan and her niece shared a look, but it was Kaerio who eventually broke the silence by chuckling, “I’m a bit shaky on my legs. It’s been decades since I’ve used them. Forgive me… Ellen…”

At the sound of her name, the spell broke and she fell forwards into his arms. Tears streamed down her cheeks as he caught her up in his embrace and kissed her.

“I’m so sorry,” he chanted against her lips, her cheeks, her neck. “I’m so sorry. I was so afraid for you and…”

“Shh,” she said, drawing back and stroking his own tears away with her thumbs. “Adan told me everything.” She knew about the shadow that had been growing in the Fae Realm, stealing souls and twisting them into vicious creatures that spread the darkness like a diseases. Humans, it seemed, were particularly vulnerable. “I know why you did it. Not that that makes it any easier, but… I understand now.”

“That little lizard,” Kaerio chuckled, shooting a look at the retreating backs of the other couple as they gave them some privacy for their reunion. “I nearly tore him to pieces when he came to my cabin babbling about some human woman…”

She managed a little laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t kill him,” she said. “My niece is rather fond of him for some reason…”

Suddenly breathless, Kaerio gasped, “I want to stay here. I… I’ve left everything behind. Will you let me stay?”

“Yes,” she gasped, clinging to him. The sea was in his hair, in the smell and the taste of his skin, but he was hers.

“I should have done that before,” he said. “I never should have tried to take you away from your world, and I was wrong to leave you the way I did. I’m so sorry, Ellen.”

“Come up to the house,” she said. As she thumbed the new scars on his face, she added, “And you can tell me the full story behind these scars.”

As they made their way up the path, she helped him when he stumbled, his legs shaky with disuse, and he laughed, blushing furiously.

Inside the stillness of her home, he looked around and said, “It’s hardly changed…”

“I might have changed,” she laughed, eyeing the matching creases around his eyes too, “But no, this place hasn’t changed much.”

Kaerio went suddenly still, his eyes fixed on the beam above her bed. “You kept it,” he breathed and she didn’t need to turn and follow his gaze to know that he was staring at the shell they had found on the beach.

“For luck and love, huh?” she said, taking his hand and letting him squeeze her fingers tightly.

“Luck and love,” he murmured, turning to face her with a smile in his dark eyes.

—

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

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__

| Masterlist | Patreon | Ko-fi | Writing Commissions |

[softspots]

I’m back, everybody!

Hey, friends! It’s been a while since I was last active; a lot longer than I meant! Sorry for the radio silence on my end, but I have some fun announcements that I hope will slightly make up for it!

What have you been doing lately?

First off, I’ll tell you what’s been keeping me so busy: college! More specifically, getting settled in at my new university! My classes so far are challenging but manageable, and I’m enjoying campus life very much!

Secondly, something that’s less delightful but in my opinion necessary: I’ve decided to clear out my inbox of all but a very small handful of asks. I apologize to anyone who sent me things that I never answered, and if you’d like to send them again feel free! But the large number of asks and the ever-lengthening amount of time that they had been collecting dust was becoming a bit overwhelming, so I decided a clean slate with room for new, fresh asks was the way to go! Kind of like some early spring cleaning!

What are the fun announcements?

The fun announcements are that I have made a Patreon and a Ko-fi!

How will those work?

On my Patreon I have seven membership tiers with a variety of rewards for Patrons! The $5 tier will get you full previews of some fics and art three days before I post them here and access to doodles and sketches I don’t post anywhere else! From there on up, the rewards only climb: the ability to vote in polls, monthly requests for one Patron each tier (in order of who pledges first), and half-price fic commissions are all on offer!

My Ko-fi is for anyone who might prefer to make one-time donations rather than sign up to pay a set monthly amount! There are no rewards or anything, but you’ll certainly have my genuine appreciation!

Due to the community guidelines of these two services, I will not be able to post everything I create to them. In fact, on Ko-fi I won't be posting anything at all due to their rules against pornographic illustrations and literature. Patreon allows explicit artwork and fiction, but not "fringe sexual fetish creations” or “fetish creations that are hard to distinguish from non-consensual sex” (to quote their community guidelines). So in order to both abide fully by the rules and play things safe, I will not post anything to Patreon involving noncon/dubcon, incest, hypnosis, forced feminization, bimbofication, somnophilia, or abdl/ageplay. Restrictions like that are no fun, but thankfully there are plenty of other things that I can post, and will!

What does this mean for content posted here?

Not much will change, although fulfilling Patron requests may keep me busy! And some fics and art will be held back for a while before I upload them here (so I can give Patrons the early access they paid for) but there will still be things that I’ll post as soon as they’re ready, like answered asks and short ficlets!

Also, while this isn’t related to my Patreon and Ko-fi, I’ve resolved to be more hands-on with regards to my inbox; basically if I feel like it’s getting a bit crowded I’ll announce a temporary hold on asks so that I can clear things out in a timely manner (I won’t actually close my inbox though, and patrons of certain tiers will still be allowed to send asks!). I may keep it closed for an evening, for a day, for multiple days or however long I feel I need to keep it closed. Doing this should help me avoid ending up with a large backlog of asks!

Is there anything else new?

Actually yeah, I’m on Twitter now! I’ve decided that for the time being it’s just gonna be my personal NSFW account and I won’t post any of my own content (I still don’t like the platform honestly, but it does have some nice stuff). Feel free to follow me on there if you want, I’m @SoftSpotty!

And with that, the long hiatus is officially over! Thank you all so much for your patience! <3

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Villainous Heroics - Chapter 9

Boy howdy has it been a long week. School started back up for me and I was not prepared for the ass kicking it delivered, but here we are with the next chapter! This also marks the halfway point for this fic, so halfway there, everyone!

Oh, a quick thing to clear up about the time line - this chapter marks the after effects of the USJ event. Aizawa and Mic first met sometime in the fall/winter months of the last school year, before our own class 1-A. The time line is a little bit different since I pushed the USJ event back as compared to canon, but we should be on track now - roughly. I'll still be vague, but we're still in our first semester of U.A. with the month being around mid to late April.

Enjoy!

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       If you found yourself enjoying this, then check out my Fiverr gig.

                                          ⍣ I have a Patreon! ⍣                                           ☪ I have a tip jar! ☪

Summary: Eraserhead is an underground hero who is constantly busy and doesn’t have time to be dealing with new villains - even if they aren’t all that villainous and make the night interesting.

Present Mic is the latest up-and-coming villain in the world and he has a point to prove to everyone out there - as long as he doesn’t keep getting distracted by Eraserhead.

Aizawa Shota is someone who soon learns that there is more to someone than the mask they show to the world - especially when it comes to playing heroes and villains.

Yamada Hizashi learns that there is more to heroics and villainy than he could have ever thought - especially in a world where some heroes still care about those lost in the shadows.

(Inspired and dedicated to corndog-patrol’s Villain!Mic AU on Tumblr.)

              <<First/Chapter>> <<Last Chapter>> <<Next Chapter>>

                                          Chapter Nine

The soft beams of spring sunlight fell into his room in leafed patterns, a warm breeze blowing pale blue curtains back from the open window. Golden sunlight and the bright yellow gifts on the stand next to his bed were the only bright colors in the room, everything else in muted and dimmed shades that made him unable to completely relax. Shota never had liked hospitals, and his inability to move even the smallest amount had him wanting to get up more and more as the moments ticked by. The only reason he hadn’t tried, yet, was because there were half hourly checks from doctors and nurses who had come to know him too well.

A soft knock on the door let him know that it was time for another check. Shota fought to not roll his eyes, instead keeping his gaze straight ahead. If it was another nurse or doctor, he might throw something, or at least attempt to. He’d had enough talks and warnings about what had happened to him during the USJ attack.

Instead of a doctor, though, he heard a familiar voice calling out a soft, “How are you doing?” Familiar heels had him glancing over to see that Nemuri was dressed outside of her hero costume, a soft sweater dress and red shawl paired with simple glasses. 

“Fine,” Shota replied after a moment, because, well, he was fine. He wasn’t at his best, but it could have been worse. He could have died instead of simply being rendered unconscious.

“If you say so,” Nemuri snorted, not sounding very believing. It was reassuring more than anything else that she wasn’t acting like he was on his deathbed like all his other visitors had been so far. Actually, now that Nemuri was here, he might finally get an answer to as to who had left the brightly colored gifts he had been staring at for the last few days.

“Who left these?” The bright yellow made him suspect All Might due to the man no doubt blaming himself for what had happened at USJ, but it didn’t quite seem like his style. The flowers were disgustingly yellow, after all.

“Don’t tell me you of all people can’t tell,” Nemuri laughed, quiet and bright, as she plucked the card off the stand and opened it up. The inside had a doodle of a screaming cat with hearts around it, the other side reflecting a message to get well soon.

“Idiot,” Shota muttered, turning away to attempt to hide the fact his face was no doubt looking as flushed as it felt. Even after he had said the worst he could and avoided his usual route to try and get ‘Present Mic’ to stop endangering himself, the man had still sent him flowers and a get-well card. Fuck, he was absolutely smitten.

“Mhm, and there’s more,” Nemuri half-sang, tone teasing as she shut the card and flipped it over to the back. “He managed to cram a lot of writing onto this thing, you know. He also has horrible handwriting.”

“Get to the point.” There was more? It was probably something sickeningly sweet - or worse. Maybe having Nemuri read it wasn’t a good idea. “Or set it down already.”

“Too late!” Nemuri chirped. “He wants you to know that he’ll be taking over your patrol route until you get better.” Present Mic what? “It seems he found out about this whole thing on the news. Oh, poor thing, he must have been distraught.”

“‘Poor thing?’ Since when did you get so fond of him?” Shota finally looked back to Nemuri, frowning a bit at the almost serious look on her face. “Nemuri.”

“Well, remember when you gave me your patrol and I told you nothing had happened? I might have lied just a teensy bit.” Nemuri gave a fake smile and Shota felt his heart plummet into his stomach.

“Nemuri. What did you do?” He had given his patrol over to Midnight because his presence only seemed to encourage Mic. He was trying to steer him away from doing any villainy, but maybe Midnight had been the wrong choice in hero.

“I just put him to sleep when he was causing trouble! I didn’t even take him to the police station or anything!” Nemuri defended, looking as if she was being accused of some great crime. “You said he had a voice quirk, but I didn’t take that to mean that he could level an entire city block-”

“He did what?” It wasn’t that Shota hadn’t realized how powerful Mic’s quirk was, but he had never really used it. There was no way he had the power to level a block, though.

“That was my reaction! I looked around the whole area and at least five buildings were completely destroyed down to the ground and the windows in a mile radius were shattered. He was waiting up on a roof near the epicenter for… Well, for you.”

Since it was only Nemuri in the room, Shota allowed himself to slump even further against his bed, groaning quietly. Of course Mic had done something like that just to get his attention. “He was trying to prove a point.” He had been trying to prove he could be a villain. “Did he say anything before you knocked him out?”

“He certainly put up a fight,” Nemuri huffed, crossing her arms and being careful not to bend the card. Shota was more thankful about that than he wanted to be. “He probably could have fought me off if he hadn’t realized what my quirk was too late.”

“Told you.” Mic was clever and he could keep up with Shota night after night. He had probably been taken by surprise where he hadn’t expected Midnight to show up. “So, you took him by surprise?”

“Of course. He was a bit of a dolt,” Nemuri said, a laugh to her words before she met Shota’s gaze. “He said to tell you that it wasn’t a game.” This time, Shota’s stomach felt like it was missing as much as All Might’s was. “Shota?”

“I think I made a mistake, Nemuri.” It had seemed logical. It was the most logical idea to force Mic to become aware of the truth and then remove himself from the situation entirely. It had been perfect. Present Mic would have died a quiet death and whoever he truly was would be free to find some avenue of life that didn’t end with pain and a mistake he could never come back from. This, though…

Mic had made a stand and proved that he wasn’t going to be pushed back into the role of a civilian who was forced to do nothing except to watch. He had attempted to make the world watch and had insisted that it all hadn’t been a game. To him, it probably wasn’t. Present Mic wasn’t an idiot. He had been trying to garner attention - and the easiest way to get attention these days was to be a hero, or… Shit.

“I’m sure you didn’t make a mistake you can’t fix,” Nemuri finally said, waving the card around. “I mean, he sent you flowers and a get-well card. Here, listen to his.” Nemuri flipped to the back of the card again, clearing her throat, “‘Someone has to watch out for the kids trapped in this place.’ See? He’s taking care of it all so you can have a rest. Like I said, he’s definitely a vigilante.”

Shota stared at Nemuri and the card before blinking slowly, trying to calmly sort out his thoughts and feelings before he gave a slow nod. “Nemuri.” The woman leaned to her right, looking ready to run for the door. “You were right.”

“Oh? Of course! Ah, but just to be certain, what was I right about this time?” Nemuri watched him and Shota couldn’t bring himself to do much more than to look over at the flowers. He was almost grateful for the bandages that covered his face and the no doubt sickening expression that was forming. “Oh- Oh! You really do have feelings for him!”

Nemuri’s cackling laughter was almost more reassuring than it was annoying, Shota sighing and watching the golden sunlight start to fade and make way for soft, cool blues. The bright yellow flowers and card seemed to warm his room just fine, though.

                                                              ::

Shota stood by his decision to return to the school as quickly as possible, but unlike some people seemed to think, he wasn’t unaware of the limitations of his body, especially after all that had happened to it. His healing sessions with Recovery Girl were slow going and, with his insomnia and sleeping problems, only so much of his body could be healed at one time. The result was a constant state of exhaustion and pain that never seemed to leave.

He had taken to sleeping on the couch most nights, too tired and sore to make it to his bedroom. The only bright side was that falling asleep on the couch often meant he could catch snippets of Present Mic’s radio show when he had the energy to stay conscious. The weekly show was still midnight to five on Friday nights through the next morning on Saturday, but Shota caught bits and pieces of his voice throughout the weeknights, as if he couldn’t stop himself from being on the radio as much as possible.

He would have been a good radio host, Shota mused. There were so many stats and ratings and changing news on heroes and villains, Shota could easily see the need and use of a radio station designed for it all. Mic would have run it wonderfully, he was sure.

The one good thing about being confined to his apartment was that he had plenty of time to catch up on grading homework and work on his case files. The largest was, without a doubt, the open case on Trigger. There were multiple heroes and police officers working on it, but Shota seemed to have taken on the brunt of it.

Working while listening to Mic’s show, though, was what made him realize just who the ‘anonymous source’ was that was turning in the many dealers and users associated with Trigger. That man was turning out to be something else entirely. He also didn’t seem to know when to stop pushing himself.

“Sorry for that last interruption, dear listeners! It’s been a busy week for me, here, but I can promise that you’re not getting rid of me quite yet - although the police and heroes are welcome to try!” The expected cackle full of wild energy was instead a quiet, strained laugh that showed just how thin the man had been stretching himself. The USJ attack must have shaken him up as much as it did the rest of the world. Never before had children training to be heroes come so close to dying. “Alright, dear listeners, let’s take some requests and get your jam session for the night underway!”

Absently tapping his pencil against the edge of his work, Shota stared at his radio as he listened to Mic’s voice. He knew that he himself had a problem with wearing himself thin, but Mic sounded like he had passed that point long ago. Considering the news stories coming out about his own involvement in USJ, it was possible Mic thought that Eraserhead was dying.

“I suppose there’s nothing for it,” Shota sighed, scratching at Jelly’s head and smiling at her loud purrs. “The chocolates weren’t the worst thing, after all.”

It hadn’t been until the casts on his arms had come off that he had been able to open the gift left by Present Mic, but once he had, he had found a collection of dark chocolates that were filled with caffeine. They had been surprisingly good, and Shota supposed that deserved a small thank you, or at least, the knowledge that Shota was fine and Eraserhead would soon be back at work and kicking Mic’s ass during his ‘villainous attempts.’

Dialing up the number he had, regrettably, memorized, Shota waited until he heard the dual sound of Mic greeting him both on the radio and through the phone, “Yo, dear listener, you’re on with Present Mic! What’s your song request for the evening!” Ah. Right. Song request. Hm…

“Play that song you sang when you kidnapped me.” There was absolute silence from both phone and radio, Shota frowning as he pulled his phone back enough to check if the call was still going.

“Eraserhead!” There were the loud sounds of objects breaking and crashing to ground that was soon followed by Mic swearing loudly at the fact that it seemed his quirk has slipped. It was… cute- Shit. Nemuri listened to Mic’s shows, too, and she could recognize his voice. Nevermind the fact that Mic had just screamed his name over his show. “You’re alive! Holy shit, you’re actually alive and okay and not dead!”

“If you were a sanctioned broadcast you would have been shut down by now,” Shota drawled, pleased he didn’t have to hide his smile at the fact Mic was swearing and cursing over live air. “You’re also an idiot if you think I’m going to die from a few thugs with inflated egos.”

“You’re… actually okay.” The breath that Mic released sounded like it had carried weeks of tension. Shota found himself feeling bad for the stress he had caused the man - even if it was unintentional. “Wait, did you actually call in to request a song?”

“What other reason would I have to call in?” Shota hung up before he could say something incriminating, hating himself for the smile he could feel on his face at Mic’s laughter - wild and loud and bright and filling up every inch of his apartment. 

“Well, listeners, next up is a requested song that I’m dedicating to my favorite listener. I expect to see you back out on the streets soon, hero.” The song that was imprinted across his memories started up and Shota relaxed back into the couch, gently scratching Jelly’s back as he sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

He was in far too deep with Present Mic. It was almost a shame that he couldn’t even bring himself to regret one moment of it.

                                                               ::

“Aw, come on, Eraser, you’re so grumpy tonight! I think we need to erase that bad attitude!” Fukukado Emi, better known as the hero Ms. Joke, burst into laughter that made Shota want to lose his hearing altogether. He could only be grateful that he didn’t need to waste his energy using his quirk to stop her own. Even she knew better than to use her quirk on him when they were out on an active patrol.

“You’re noisy,” Shota muttered, trailing along behind her as they walked the streets. He would usually take the rooftops, but Joke had never quite been able to keep up with him that way. The nights they and their agencies partnered together usually meant his feet stayed on the ground.

“C’mon, eraser! Just go on a date with me!” Weeks of recovery, days of arguing that he was ready, and long, tedious hours of reassuring Nemuri, and Shota had finally been allowed back on patrol. He was then chained to Joke because, he assumed, everyone hated him. “I know you’re not busy this weekend!”

“Drop it, Joke.” He wasn’t ‘busy’ because Nemuri was practically forcing him to take more breaks until his body fully recovered. He was feeling his exhaustion, now, but he had a feeling that was more to do with Joke than anything else.

“Oh, I see how it is, Eraserhead.” Head snapping up at the familiar voice, Shota startled as he saw Present Mic standing a few feet away from them. The man looked… wrong. His entire stance was closed off and his face was blank of emotion. What the hell had happened? He had been fine on his last radio show. “Just tell me… What does she have that I don’t?!”

Present Mic, it seemed, was an ugly crier. He was also an absolute idiot because he was now sobbing over, what Shota assumed, was the ‘fact’ that he and Joke of all people were in a relationship. He honestly felt like he was losing brain cells the longer he tried to wrap his head around that thought. Finally, though, he managed to say the first words he had spoken to Mic since the last time they had seen each other, “Well, brains, for a start.”

“Wait- Wait, wait, wait, this is Present Mic!” Joke was beaming, looking between the two before Shota saw an evil glint enter her eyes that reminded him far too much of Nemuri. “You’re the one Eraser is always talking about, right! The funny, cute one with the radio show?” Nemuri, that rat.

“I’m what?” Mic’s crying stopped at once, the man blinking at them with wide, startled eyes. Shota wished, with everything in him, that his quirk allowed him to sink into the earth and disappear.

“Yeah, yeah! Even I’ve heard a lot about you. Man, Eraser, no wonder you keep rejecting my date offers when you have your eye on this guy.”

“I do not-”

“You talk about me!” The smile… was so bright. Shota had always thought it ridiculous to describe people in comparison to objects or nature, but, well, looking at Mic’s smile was like looking at sunlight.

“I mention you,” Shota finally conceded, watching with detached horror as Mic and Joke proceeded to laugh, bond, and become the best of friends within ten minutes. It seemed that Joke had not only betrayed his trust, but that Shota would never be able to live this night down.

                                                            ::

“Well then, hero, how goes the day?” It had taken a better part of the night, but Shota had finally managed to separate Mic and Joke from becoming blood siblings. He was still trying to figure out when exactly that had ended with him and Mic sitting on top of a roof, legs swung over the side.

“Shouldn’t it be night?” Shota raised an eyebrow, keeping a blank face at Mic’s quiet, soft laugh. It was harder than he would have thought to not smile. “I’m fine. Nobody’s yet to believe me when I say that, though.”

“For good reason, I’d think. You looked like a mummy the last time I saw you on the news. It… It didn’t look good, Eraser. The media has been having a field day about the attack at that U.A. training field.”

“I’m aware.” The media hadn’t spared any force when it came to ripping into the heroes for their inability to stop the attack before it happened. The world always had its eyes on the hero schools, and Japan had a spotlight on U.A. To see the children attacked and even All Might almost losing? It was a sobering reality. “We’ll recover.”

“You, Eraser, are too much of what a hero should be.” At the sharp, bitter laugh, Shota glanced over. Mic had removed his speaker and had his headphones resting around his neck, hearing aids clear to see with the way his hair was styled. Shota was still trying to figure out how the man could handle ear piercings when wearing hearing aids and headphones. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“There are some that would agree with you,” Shota finally said, looking back down to the streets below them. “What’s the point of having the power to help, though, if we don’t.”

“You’re something else, hero.” Twitching at the name a bit, Shota looked back to Mic and felt guilt clawing at him as it had been since he had heard about Mic’s encounter with Nemuri. “Oh? That’s not a good look. You know, you could give a guy the wrong-”

“I’m sorry.” Hm. It looked like he had finally found a way to shut Mic up. Of course it came at the expense of his pride, but, well… This was more important than pride. “I don’t regret the intent behind my words, but I do regret how I phrased them. I’m also sorry that it took so long to give you the apology you deserved.”

“Ah, jeez, I- No, you don’t have to-” Mic fumbled with his words for a moment, finally groaning as he rubbed at his eyes. “It’s not like anything you were saying was wrong.”

“Can you repeat that? I want to make sure you realize you just said you were wrong, and I was right.” There was a punch to his shoulder that had him giving a quiet huff of laughter, Mic perking up at the sound. “Still. What I said was cruel.”

“If it hadn’t been you then it would have been someone else, eventually. I’m willing to pretend it never happened if you are, though.” Mm. That seemed irresponsible. “That a yes?”

“Sure.” The two were quiet for a moment - something Shota still couldn’t believe Present Mic was capable of. Finally, though, he broke the silence with the question that had been on his mind since they saw each other earlier, “Are you going to tell me what’s still bothering you? You haven’t even made an attempt at causing trouble, tonight.”

“Ah, you’re too smart for me, Eraserhead,” Mic sighed, loud and dramatic. He was hiding, but Shota didn’t know what - yet. “That attack… The USJ attack they’re calling it?”

“Unoriginal, but accurate,” Shota snorted, giving a nod. “What about it? I already told you I was fine. The kids are, too.”

“No, it’s not… Someone approached me right before the attack. He said he wanted me to join a ‘party’ he and his friends throwing. He then implied that there was a way to bring down All Might… I don’t know if they were working with that Trigger dealer, but they know the same circles.”

“How could you tell?” This was serious, then. If there was overlap between all these groups, then what was the common thread? It had to be more than just a spike in villain activity.

“‘A league onto their own.’ A familiar phrase, right?” It was the phrase that dealer had said over Mic’s show. “The dealer and this guy both phrased it exactly like that.”

“There’s an organization to it all, then.” That meant more work, and it also meant more danger. Gangs and groups were one thing, but organized villainy to the extent of what happened at USJ… Shota couldn’t help but feel that those villains he had seen in the center of it all had something to do with it. The man covered in hands and the monster that had almost defeated All Might.

“I should have accepted that offer.” That had him startling, Mic’s voice flat and serious, “I should have accepted so I could have been there. I could have- Shit, I could have done something. There’s a chance you wouldn’t have been hurt so bad if I was there-”

“And there’s a chance that nothing would have changed,” Shota said, cutting him off before he could spiral into whatever dark thoughts were picking away at him. “Your appearance could have made a difference, but then you’d be in a jail cell for longer than a week. Besides, I’m fine.”

The movement was slow and cautious, but Shota still found himself unable to react as Mic’s hand settled on his cheek, a rough and calloused thumb brushing against the scar that was now under his right eye. “You, my hero, are in no way fine,” Mic said softly, voice quiet and wrecked. “You could have died.”

“I…” He had done his best not to think about it. Shota had been doing his absolute best not to think about it, but… he really could have. It was nothing short of a miracle and his own stubbornness that he was still here. “And leave you to run rampant? I’d be a poor hero, in that case.”

“Mm. I suppose we can’t have that.” The thumb pressed against the scar for a moment, Mic’s skin dragging against his own and causing a new, unfamiliar feeling that had Shota shuddering with a hitch of his breath. “You’ll be the end of me, hero.”

Mic’s voice was as soft and warm as his touch, bright green eyes staring at him with something that Shota was too afraid to even begin to name. As he stared at this man who had called himself a villain and yet proved himself the opposite, Shota couldn’t help but realize the truth.

Maybe he would be the end of Mic, but he knew without a doubt that this man would be the end of him.

[hellostarryskies]

Happy Halloweenyah! -- Traditional

Happy Halloweenyah everyone!  This is for  kite / kite~  / blinded-by-flowers / hyakki--yagyo and myself, really. Wanna know why?  Cuz of all my friends she has been the closest, the strongest, the nicest, and the most dependable of all of them. We've known each other over 12+ years now, and we've become close enough we're confused as a married couple. As long as I'm still husbando I am totally fine with her being my forever waifu. She is an amazing artist and she deserves all the follows, all the supports, all the everything. Her patreon is posted up there in all those links, as are her tumblrs and furaffinity. I do NOT believe she actively posts to her dA anymore but that might change once I get to being her secretary again or something.  Anyway, you all should go follow her and just shower her in love, cash, and affection. Mostly cash though, she needs it as much as I do. If you would like to perhaps drop me some markers for some art in exchange, check out my wishlist here! Just note me for my mailing address, use your own cell phone for the tracking order information, then screenshot me the order confirmation. Anything over 15$ (meaning more than one piece sets like, the markers of course, I need markers so bad) will totally get you a piece! And if you give me a character with the marker theme that you purchase, I will DO MY BEST to traditionally color and doodle it, otherwise I-I might ink a pretty doodle and copy it, then try to color it. I'm not sure how well it'll go aha. It's up to you! But if I don't have the colors, I can't do the coloring. Posted using PostyBirb

[afterhours-bnhazine]

After Hours: Artist App Guide!

Hello and welcome! Thank you for your interest in After Hours: An 18+ Heroes/Villains BNHA zine! We figure you might have some questions about the artist applications and we want to help you as best we can, so below we’ve included some info we think you’ll find handy. This will cover questions about the application itself, artist responsibilities, judging process, and more! When you feel good and ready, hop on over to the artist apps here. If you have more questions, feel free to hit up our inbox!

When judging artist apps we will mainly look at four things: 1. Anatomy Anatomy is basic proportions and whatnot, but also the flow of the body.  Does it look natural?  Even if it's stylised, good flow and sense of shape will be preferred over perfectly correct but stiff and awkward.

2. Colours Colours are the usual basic colour theory of compliments, triads, etc. as well as, in general, do their colours catch your eye or is it simple black shadowing. Colours are super important in how drawn people are to the art and we want people to really be pulled in with a zine because the longer they spend looking at the art, the more fulfilling their purchase is.

3. Background More than how complicated a background is, does it add to the piece?  Do you get more out of the art from the background or is it too distracting?  Of course we want it well drawn, but you can't just slap in anything and everything into a background.

4. Composition/Cohesiveness Composition is important in making an interesting piece, but also in how well does it all fit together?  Is it complete and nice to look at?  A lot of people don't have styles that match even if they have the technical skill and everything they drew is "right".  If it doesn't fit together well it becomes awkward and not enjoyable to view.

How the app is structured: We really wanted to encourage artists to put themselves out there, and in past zines we’ve seen artists applying for the zine who would have been great merch artists and vice versa. To help encourage artists to really shoot for it and make applications easier on those who wish to apply for both, we’ve combined the zine artist and merch artist apps into a branched form. Depending on if you’d like to apply just as a zine artist, merch artist, or both, you will be directed to different sections of the application. Applying for both does not mean twice the work! The mods may recognize someone’s art style is better suited to a page in the zine or better suited to merch art, and we don’t want you to miss an opportunity to participate in the zine because you didn’t put yourself out there! However, if you know your strengths and only want to apply for one or the other, that option exists for you, too! If you have any questions, feel free to shoot us an ask!

What kinds of samples should I have? It’s important to look at the general guidelines above and select the pieces you think best represent your style and your skill. With that in mind, we would prefer to see at least one BNHA piece and at least one NSFW piece. These can be the same pieces, or they can be different! They are also not required, so if you don’t have a BNHA piece or a NSFW piece to show off, that’s okay! Definitely still apply regardless.

Is there an art style I should aim for? Your style! We’re welcoming traditional art and alternative art styles, so give us something true to your style! We all like to tailor our apps to the things we apply for and that makes sense, but don’t compromise your style for something you think might be more likely to be accepted. The ultimate purpose is to have fun and make a good zine, and it’s hard to make a good zine when no one is having fun. Show us what you’re proud of and best reflects your artistic style! As stated above, we’re not looking for super ornate backgrounds or 100% accurate anatomy. We’re looking for pieces that feel and look good and have good composition, and we’re especially looking for art that is unique and will add diversity to the pieces in the zine.

Why do I have to have a portfolio link? Many zines will make an additional portfolio optional, which is often easier for applicants who may not have put a full portfolio together. However, as both experienced mods and artists, the mods know that sometimes the work you put forward for sample pieces isn’t always indicative of your best work as we might see it. Portfolios are hard to make, but more work tells us more about you as an artist. You may not have a polished portfolio and that’s okay! You can also link us to collections of your work like your art tag on tumblr, your insta, a google drive folder, etc. What’s in your portfolio will not be a crucial part of how we judge your application. We just want to make sure we have it so that if we want to know more about your art as we discuss, we know where to look and can get a sense of your broader body of work.

How will apps be judged? Transparency is important in this process, so we want to detail how we’re going to be judging apps. An application eval sheet has already been set up that will be filled with most of the information from each app. The mods have anonymously chosen their own columns and marked it with something they recognize but isn’t identifiable by anyone else. As apps come in, we will all be using a simple y/n/m judging system. This is not the final step of the judging process. Artists who receive unanimous yeses will be automatically accepted, while those with all nos will be automatically rejected. Artists with a mix will be discussed in the mod discord server in more detail after apps have closed, and voted on using a 1-10 scale. Those with the highest points will then be accepted.

How many artists and writers are you taking? We plan to take up to 30 artists, including guest artists, but we’ve left ourselves a little wiggle room with the page count in case there are applicants we really love and want to squeeze in! In addition, we’ll be taking 3-4 merch artists!

What will be expected of artists? Basics: Print artists will be expected to create one full-page illustration for the zine. If an artist volunteers to do a two-page comic or spread and we choose them for this role, they will have an additional page to work with.

Collaborations: We hope to hold all our collaborations in a “rebang style”, where the artists chosen for collab work draw up a prompt and then the writers chosen for collab work will choose from the prompts, so minimal wait times for artists! Of course, this is only an option and not a necessity. We have a claim system in place so no one goes with unclaimed prompts nor sees how claims unfold. Artists only need mark their interest in collaborating with writers and will be notified when results go out as to whether they have been chosen to create collaborative pieces.

Supporting Funding: This zine is for-profit and we intend for it to be worth it. We’re not gonna leave anyone hanging. In fact, we’ve got a Ko-Fi and a Patreon soon to be set up to help assist in the making of this zine, and anyone who does help gets bonus rewards on top of their payment. We’ve even got an actual accountant on our team to make sure everything makes sense. Contributor participation will involve doing quick doodles to fulfill prompts and requests. Nothing too labor intensive! Participation in fundraising activities is not required and will not affect your chances of acceptance. We do strongly encourage participation and hope to make it as fun as possible for contributors!

[nerdarchy-blog]

Hello gamers! Our crate unboxing segments are moving from our video series to a new home here on the website as we shuffle things around to best provide all the things we want to offer between here and the Nerdarchy YouTube channel. Check back every month should you wish to learn of the awesome stuff that comes in that month crate. This time we are unboxing the March 2018 Dungeon Crate.

  March 2018 Dungeon Crate unboxing

From the insert

March is a well-known month for drinking holidays, so we offer a tavern themed crate this month.  Taverns are the best place for adventurers to get the scoop on the local area, find new quests, and settle in for some rest and relaxation. The items in this crate revolve around some of our favorite Halcyon establishments.

Check out the gallery below for some images of the cool stuff included in the March 2018 Dungeon Crate.

The first item is Epic Encounters: Tavern Builder. Normally we get a small folded card with a ready-made encounter to use right away in your fifth edition Dungeons & Dragons game.  However, this is a great insert that you can use to make a tavern. I do a lot of improv as a Dungeon Master and when players want to go to a tavern I struggle at times coming up with a good name. This Tavern Builder card can be a major asset to solving this issue. But it does not stop with a name chart. You have options for an inn, the tavern, a pub, and the dive. You get options for the size of the building, descriptions, notable occupants – even a menu. This is a good get for a DM to use either on the fly or during your prep time to make exactly what you want. I am happy to have something like this to aid in my gaming.

The images that appear on the pint glasses are also available as T-shirts! Click the image to check out the Dungeon Crate shirt shop for these and others. [Art by Dungeon Doodles]

Going along with the tavern theme, the next item is the Etched Steel Tavern Logo Pint Glass. Made by Advanced Deployment and with art by Dungeon Doodles, this glass has one of four design options. I am not sure of what all the options are but the one I received is from the Shady Lady. It is a cool design and I wonder if maybe the Dungeon Crate shop will eventually have for sale all the options so you can collect them all.

If you know anything about Nerdarchist Ted, you know I like miniatures and dice. And the next handful of items are right up my ally. Next are two miniatures from the Reaper Bones line. We get a dwarven brewer and a townsfolk innkeeper. The dwarf stands next to a keg almost as big as he is with some great detail.

The notion that brewing and dwarves go well together is represented in this detailed mini. I am happy to add this to my collection and I am set for the next dwarf I play who specializes in brewing supplies. The innkeeper is another great asset. Maybe not as a player character mini but one that if you want to set the scene and have a combat in the tavern, you have something to represent the barkeeper so those monsters can threaten your NPCs as well as the adventurers.

Minis, check. But I said dice as well and this crate has those as well. You get three in fact. First by GameScience you get a d10. GameScience dice are known for their precision balance and quality. This is number three in a set as we got the d20 and the d12 in the previous two crates so I suspected that this one was coming.  It is cool to be able to get the whole collection over time, really adding extra value to getting the crate every month. But if you missed something there are options.

You know the manufacturer of the thing and if it is not available over at the Dungeon Crate shop you can always check out the GameScience store and get it from them directly. But that is not all for dice. While GameScience is cool these d4s, in my honest opinion, blow them out of the water. I know many people love and are used to the typical triangle “caltrop” d4 but the company Doublesix Dice has made these super amazing d4s that are essentially a 12-sided die marked with one through four, three times each.

For a bit of hilarity, the first one of these I got months ago, also in a Dungeon Crate, was gold with black triangles for pips. It looked really cool, but because it had 12 sides I did not know what it was. Once I figured out what it was it became my favorite d4. From the same company we get two more of this style d4. One is black with gold triangles as pips, while the other is an orangish gold with black swirls as pips. I’m super happy to have more of this awesome style of dice to add to my growing collection.

And the last item in the box, which I would have missed buried in the packaging had it not been for the insert saying what all the items were, is a set of coins. For those of you who do not know, the guy behind Dungeon Crate is a fanatic for coins, so they do not come in every crate but in a bunch of them. These ones are a three piece set from Rare Elements Foundry.

Coins are a great thing to have at the gaming table. They can be cool props for when the adventurers travel to a new land or when they uncover a treasure horde. They can be used as inspiration tokens, or heck, if you ever have the need to roll a d2. Lastly they can be used as atmosphere or roleplaying tools. Your rogue, or any gold-loving character, could constantly fiddle with their coins. Here you have props to provide that sound and help you get into character. You could of course just have them around the table adding to the atmosphere or environment of your gaming table.

So if you think these are cool and want in on the next crate feel free to head over to the Dungeon Crate site. Make sure you use the promo code Nerdarchy to get 10 percent off your first month’s subscription. If you want to check out the store and maybe see what they have from past months you can do that too. You never know what you are going to get.

Thanks for reading and check out this great create service and until next time, stay nerdy!

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Everything you need to build an epic tavern for your #DnD game in this @Dungeoncrate Hello gamers! Our crate unboxing segments are moving from our video series to a new home here on the website as we shuffle things around to best provide all the things we want to offer between here and the 

[neganium]

Does anyone know what kind of account type I’d need on Paypal if I was a freelance artist who was not formally employed and basically approaches work on a casual or “as needed” basis? Like. I need a paypal for sure. But idk if business accounts restrict your purchases to business-related expenses or not, and my mom says there’s some kind of fee? But idk if I can send invoices or such through a personal account; plus I need to be able to buy personal things since this is what I need it for in the first place: food, clothing, pet expenses, medical, and quality of life (I need a new squishy bead pillow for my head bc the one I have now sprung a leak- it had a hole for a while (thanks lilith) but now due to stretching and wear it’s kind of grown and has begun leaking profusely; I haven’t had it for all that long but I had to stuff so many beads back into that damn little hole when I woke up this afternoon; plus I desperately need a new pair of glasses and it’s been over a full decade since my eyes have been checked).

Basically what incited this was being hungry and not really having enough options for supper, but not really being able to afford to order out or anything like that. But there’s a lot more that I need, and those around me could also benefit from (none of these animals belong to me, but I feel bad that they’ve run out of wet food; plus the leaking pillow concerns me bc Lilith lives in my room and often sleeps on my bed with me after I’ve fallen asleep, and those beads are a major health hazard to her, as well as to myself- I’ve found them on my clothes and in my hair and once in the shell of my ear, and even places they have no right to be; not to mention, they haven’t been to the vet in a while, any of them). I’m just so desperately tired of this situation; while I’m not ready to do proper commissions just yet (assuming I’ll ever be ready), I figured something like Ko-Fi or even Patreon might be a better fit for what I need, since those are more “work at your own pace” and hope for some handouts appreciation, ahaha.

I do know that some of my mutuals work with one or both of these platforms, so I was wondering what choice I should make, how to go about it, how to actually do it, etc. I like having actually functional shit, and, yannow, being able to eat. So I’ve been setting up an art email, designed for managing my paypal and eventually working with (as well as a writing email that I made for my ao3 and intended to use with my writing platforms originally- not that I’m sure what I’ll do with it just yet; I’ve not written much substantial in recent years at all); while full commissions are probably out, I’m pretty down for stupid thank you doodles of shit that’s like, based on ur blog or a loose set of preferences (favorite foods, colors, animals, etc.).

I’m not really a formal business operation, and I don’t really intend to be. It’d be kind of stupid to have more than one account for this kind of thing, I feel like, so, I’m just kind of wanting to make the right choice here.

Thoughts?

[neoyi]

Anonymous asks:

(hope you don’t mind me asking this) what’s your art process like? can you share what materials you use?

Sure.

My process varies depending on how much I give a crap about the things I draw. Usually it starts off with an idea. Then it starts off with me trying to commit that idea to paper. Then I usually scream at this point as I try and find the motivation I need to grab a pencil and actually do this idea. This, incidentally, is probably the hardest stage in the process. Once I start drawing, it’s usually smooth sailings from here on; any mistakes I make tends to come up after I finish the work, and then I scream some more and wonder what I did wrong with my life.

I’m a traditional artist because my computer doodling skills is about as amazing as a lethargic boomerang that gets tossed and never comes back. I mostly use mechanical pencils, various ink pens (I’ve recently gotten into copic multiliners, though I have luck with Faber-Castells and micron ink pens) to ink my work. Copic markers (usually sketch sized) are my primary coloring choices; they often a wide variety of colors and is refillable to boot. I have some prismamarkers as well, but I don’t use them much nowadays. Still, I have a bushel of them as back-up just incase. 

Here’s my current set of supplies, give or take. The Transformers Animated lunch box houses most of my prismamarkers. It’s hard to see, but the refillables are to the far right of the photo. These things cost a bazillion dollars despite me being poor. Maybe I should get one of them Patreon thingamabobs. 

These are my current sets of pencils, ink pens, and other doo-dads I use to draw before I color the dang thing. I don’t use sharpies whenever I draw artwork I give two shits about because they bleed through easily. Those tools are often reserved for my black and white scribble comics where I don’t care as much to make it look good.

How I draw depends on whether I’m giving a damn or not. 

When I draw half-assed comics and art, I tend to make up shit on the spot. Here’s an example from this Shovel Knight prospecter comic I’m currently drawing (I took this pictures with a phone because I’m too tired and lazy to use a scanner. Sorry.) 

I start off with a rough sketch as seen here on these sets of pages. Usually I work one page at a time, but sometimes I draw them all in advance like I did here, mostly to try and motivate myself to finish the damn thing.

Then I would ink over it (mostly I use a sharpie just to preserve my better art supplies for bigger projects) as seen here.

Here’s a finished version ready to be posted in the near future once I touch up minor edits on photoshop and fill up the world balloons with typed text. Incidentally, I don’t usually draw the word balloons in comics so I have a greater control of editing in speech bubbles via photoshop on the final product, but that only ever applies to my webcomic; simple ones like these I do just draw ‘em in because it makes the process faster. Basically I take more shortcuts depending on the ratio of how much effort I’m willing to put in a work.

Artwork I DO give a damn is slightly different. Most of the time, this is going to be my webcomic, Prince Marine: The Dandy Robot (*cough* link HERE if you’re interested in giving it a whirl. *cough*) That one is like planning out a friggin' symphony. I conceptualize a general story idea, figure out how it fits in the continuity, then jot down a script. As of this post, I have up to Chaper 8 ready to be drawn in the future (to put it into perspective, Chapter 4 is the current story that’s publically up on my site.) I then usually draw a thumbnail/rough sketch on how I want it to look. 

These are the dummy pages, the ones I use as guidelines for the final product. The first 200 or so pages were actually drawn when I had only a rough guideline for the first five or so chapters; everything from dialogue to how word balloons were placed were improvised on the spot before I wrote my first full script. I’ve changed a lot of elements from the original editions since, but they served as building blocks for the first five chapters. The image above for example isn’t much different from the finished pages below: 

The same rule applies to colored products. Ones that are simple and largely stress-free work are drawn on the spot once I think of an idea. Bigger ones are planned much like my comic, such as my recent Hyper Light Drifter 1-year anniversary pic. 

Rough draft on my sketchbook to get an idea:

A work-in-progress on a new sheet of paper:

Finished result with any minor little things I need to fix and add done in photoshop. 

I use a variety of paper depending on how much I give a shit. Printer paper is my default for garbage doodles as well as concept arts and practices. Printer paper, FYI, are often not quality paper for the tools that I use, but they do in a pinch if I want to draw something super quick and cheap on the fly. That goes double for sketchbooks. It’s hard to find a good one that can support markers very well, but I usually go for ones where the pages don’t feel too rough nor too smooth. Rough and the markers look kind of spotty. Sometimes I think it leaves a neat effect like this art, but I don’t often recommended it if you’re aiming for quality. Too smooth and the colors don’t feel as vibrant. 

I think so far, the “just-right” papers I’ve found are the Deleter Comic Book Pages and Hammermill printer paper; the latter of which has a stock card-like feel that makes it perfect for markers. That would be the two papers on the left side of the above picture. 

That’s basically about it. I hope that gives you a somewhat decent idea of how I do things. Thanks for asking!