#judge did such a touching and beautiful job creating this piece likee its filled with so much love and fun from the show but also!!

[loves2spwge]

Hey, thanks for going through all that to save my life, Stan.

Dude, you're my best friend. I don't want you to die until I do.

💙💚 @judgedarts did this incredibly gorgeous page for me for my two most favorite dudes everrrr 💚💙

[talatomaz]

beautiful | diana prince x fem!reader

a/n: happy new year !! this takes place during 1984 but before the actual plot of the movie happens. this is really long so sorry in advance

warnings: mentions of attempted assault. sexual references

word count: 3.4k

masterlist | request list | request rules

reader is a woc and works at the smithsonian as an antiques realtor. after they receive several artefacts specific to ancient mediterranean culture, she enlists the help of diana prince, a senior anthropologist. reader works closely with her and finds herself starting to develop feelings for her and one day, she’s saved by a mysterious female heroine and figures out diana is not all she claimed to be

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Thank you.”

You smiled to the delivery boy as you showed him where to place the fragile artefacts the museum had just received. It was your job to evaluate whether they were of any value, and if so, whether it was more prudent for them to be sold to someone else or put on display for people to visit.

The moment you were left alone, you’d opened the smallest box in order to determine where these artefacts were from, more specifically, when. You picked up, what appeared to be, a device of some sorts, fit with several random gears. Evaluating the rust and corrosion, you noted on your clipboard that this may have been a Cypriot artefact from the early Bronze Age.

As you made your way through the other boxes, you were about a quarter of the way through when you noticed that all of these antiquities appeared to originate from the Mediterranean. And you knew the perfect person to help explain more about their culture to you.

You gently placed the artefact you were currently examining back in its respective box, locked your office door and made your way to the senior anthropologist who was an expert on the culture.

Lifting a closed fist, you lightly knocked on the door and waited patiently for the door to open, smiling at the person who stood in the door frame when it did.

“Afternoon Miss Prince, are you free for a quick chat?”

You didn’t know Diana Prince all that well, having only interacted on a number of occasions but each time you had, she was incredibly kind and friendly. She had been at the museum longer than you had and was one of the first people to introduce themselves to you and make you feel welcome.

Honestly, there wasn’t much that you knew about her.

She was an enigma.

In the broadest of terms, that was.

By definition, an enigma is someone who is mysterious and difficult to understand.

Now, whilst the brunette was definitely mysterious, she was, by no means, difficult to understand.

One look in her eyes and you immediately saw her for all that she was.

She may not have said more than 5 words to you, but her eyes told you a story. Someone who had gone through immense hurt but remained kind and bright, even in the darkest of times.

Her eyes were beautiful, as was the rest of her. Though that did seem like an oversimplification. She was a goddess, as if sculpted by the Gods themselves - how true that was, you didn’t know yet - and despite that, she never seemed to let her beauty be her one overriding factor. She was extremely smart and intelligent and so much more. Which was why you enlisted her help.

“Of course. Please take a seat.” She said, smiling when you did. “So, how can I help you, Miss L/N?”

“Please, call me y/n. Miss L/N makes me sound like my mother.” You joked.

“Well, then please call me Diana.” She replied in her accent that you couldn’t quite distinguish.

You nodded, “So I’ve just recently come into possession of some ancient artefacts. As you know, I’m required to estimate their value and decide what the museum should do with them. However, it seems that the artefacts I’ve currently examined, all appear to be specific to Mediterranean culture. Now considering you’re our resident expert on that, I figured-”

“That I could come and help you determine it’s authenticity and explain more about them.” Diana finished.

“Exactly. But if you’re too busy, I compl-”

“No, it’s okay.” She interrupted quickly. Clearing her throat, she continued, “I’d be happy to help. I’m glad you came to me, y/n.”

Your lips curved in a smile as you fought to keep the blush that would have certainly risen to your cheeks.

“Shall we?” You asked, standing up, about to head back to your office.

“Lead the way.”

***

For the next month or so, you found yourself working quite closely with the anthropologist, the Smithsonian board having told you both that they wanted you to help create a display for the artefacts to be put on show for the community. Though that meant more work for you, you were secretly grateful because, truth be told, you found yourself developing feelings for the brunette. But you never said a word, knowing she wouldn’t feel the same about you.

You were working late one night, about to leave, before you noticed the light that was on in one of the hallways. Apart from you, you knew that the only person who’d ever stay this late at the museum was Diana. Her, seemingly more committed to her job than you once realised.

Knocking on the door, you waited until you heard a quiet “come in” before entering the office room.

Neatly placed around the room were several boxes, more than likely filled with paperwork and published papers. Her navy leather sofa sat at the far end of the room with a coat draped over one of the arm rests. In front of you, was Diana’s desk. It was as tidy as the rest of the room, papers orderly placed at the ends of the desk, a small lamp placed at the corner and a computer which Diana had been typing on.

Her face softened into a smile when she saw you and she sat up against her chair.

“Hey, y/n. What’s up?”

“Not much. I was just about to head home but since I saw your light on, I figured I’d come by and say goodnight.”

“That’s sweet. Since you’re here, why don’t I walk you out? I was planning on going home myself.”

“Sounds good.”

She grabbed her coat from the sofa and put it on. After locking her door, she walked beside you towards the entrance of the museum.

“You know, it’s a beautiful night and it’s not that late either, why don’t we get dinner?”

You stopped in your path for a brief moment before continuing to walk.

She was asking you to dinner.

Holy shit.

You knew it wasn’t a date since you had had several dinners together whilst working at the artefacts.

But the idea that it could have been still excited you.

And terrified you.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

You had eaten at this cute restaurant, sitting outdoors so you could both bask in the stars. You’d fallen into easy conversation with the brunette, never experiencing any awkwardness or uncomfortable silences. You talked about nothing and everything; every time you made her laugh, you couldn’t help but smile yourself because her laughter was genuine and brought warmth to you.

“I’ve enjoyed tonight, Diana.”

“Me too. I know you don’t get out much so I figured you deserved a break.”

“Hey! What do you mean ‘I don’t get out much’?” You said, feigning being offended while truthfully, you were failing to hide a laugh.

“I’m not judging. Just...making an observation.” Diana laughed.

“Hmm sure. Well, how about you? Are you out often?”

“No, not really.”

“Wow. Now look who’s not a social butterfly.” You joked.

“Yep, we’re just two peas in a pod, huh y/n?” Diana said, smirking when she saw a light blush of red on your cheeks.

***

After that night, you found yourself regularly going out to dinner with Diana and it was getting harder to hide how you felt.

Sometimes, you had a sliver of hope that she felt the same way because she would make excuses to touch you, whether it be gently brushing her hand against yours or stroking her hand against your arm.

But you immediately quelled those thoughts. There was no way someone as beautiful, sweet and smart as Diana would like you.

Shaking your head, as if to rid the thoughts from your mind once more, you walked through the alley that was a shortcut to your apartment.

Abruptly, you felt yourself pushed up against the brick wall, a knife against your throat. You fought the urge to scream, knowing any movement with the sharp blade that close to you would certainly result in bleeding.

“Good girl. Be quiet and don’t scream. Otherwise the next piece of trash left in this alley will be you.”

The moon allowed for you to get a better look at the man holding himself against you. You only saw his face, however, his mouth curved into a creepy smile, reminiscent of Dr Seuss’ The Grinch.

“You are a pretty one, aren’t you?” Even his voice felt slimy, bringing a look of disgust on your face.

“Fuck off.” You said, showing no fear. Oddly, you found yourself feeling calm. Some people may fight and others may flee. But of course, you taunt and curse.

“Oh, you’re going to be fun.”

You readied yourself for anything that may happen, waiting for the opportunity where the blade’s pressure would lighten, allowing you to kick this guy and run away.

But before you could, you felt all pressure against you immediately leave. Looking up, you caught a glimpse of a woman in armour pulling the man off you with, what appeared to be, a glowing yellow rope. The man still held within the rope, she jumped up on the roof and disappeared.

But not before the moonlight had provided some clarity as to who this mysterious figure was.

It was her eyes.

You had difficulty sleeping that night. It was not the attempted assault that had kept you up though, it was the woman who had saved you. You recognised her eyes but the more you thought about it, the more perplexed you became. There was no way Diana was whoever this woman was. But it was her eyes.

This back and forth continued til sunrise when you finally decided to push it from your mind. Yes, her eyes may have been familiar but you hadn’t seen her face nor heard her voice. And if, and when you did, you would then make an assumption as to who she was.

***

“Morning, y/n.”

You looked up to see Diana standing outside your office door, dressed in a simple pantsuit that she somehow made look glamorous.

“Morning, Diana.”

“How are you? Are you okay?”

You carefully noted the thinly veiled concern in her tone before answering.

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” You asked, brow raised in question.

“No reason. Just wondering.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve just been finalising some things for the display tonight.”

Time had flown by and you were disheartened when you realised it meant the two of you wouldn’t be seeing each other as often; the two of you would go back to your own lives and separate work.

“Y/N?”

You blinked, having been broken from your thoughts when you saw real concern on her face.

“Yeah?”

“You went a bit dazed there for a moment. Are you sure you’re okay?” Her head tilted in question, her hand lifting to gently caress your arm.

“Yeah, sorry. Come on, let’s finish off this display.”

You had trouble focusing whilst you worked, eyes constantly glancing over at Diana, your mind wondering. You knew that even if she was who you thought she was, it had no effect on how you felt about her. She was still the same Diana that you knew.

Just...more badass than you’d first thought.

The two of you left the museum early evening so you could get ready for the gala the Smithsonian was putting on to show off their new Mediterranean display.

Whilst you had put quite a few antiques up for sale to various buyers and other museums, the large majority of them you had advised the board to keep; explaining how, in the long run, it’d prove more valuable.

You got dressed in a black dress that was hemmed below your knees, a low but classy ‘v’ cut shaped plunged neckline to reveal a small diamond necklace that matched with your earrings. You rarely wore makeup but tonight was an exception so your lips were painted a deep red that complemented your tanned skin and your hair was left free, light curls bouncing against your back.

Once you had arrived back at the Smithsonian, you made your way to your boss and the rest of the board who complimented yours and Diana’s work.

You looked around, wondering where the latter was.

As if summoned by sheer thought alone, Diana appeared beside you; her appearance leaving your throat dry. She was dressed in a long navy dress, a long slit in the side showing off her toned legs. She wore a gold bracelet around her wrist, her lips painted bright red, her curly hair surrounding her face.

“You look stunning, Diana.”

“Thank you. You look beautiful too.” Her smile reaching her eyes.

The next couple of hours were spent rotating around the guests and several investors who commended the both of you on your work whilst simultaneously making sizeable donations to the museum.

Truth be told, you hated this part of the gala. You believed that people should appreciate the art rather than wanting to line up their own pockets. It was the main reason you often avoided company events such as these but since tonight was something you’d organised, you needed to be there.

You were currently speaking with an older male whom you knew was an avid investor. Diana had been pulled aside by another investor who wanted to know more about a certain piece of art.

As you engaged in a polite conversation with the man, you felt a shift in his tone as he became more untoward with you. His words were slurring slightly, having consumed several glasses of champagne, and he starting to make inappropriate advances by grabbing your hand or saying wildly unprofessional things.

“Mr Woodbury, I appreciate your interest in me but I do not feel the same way and I’d appreciate it if you could stop with the advances.” You explained as politely as you could when, in reality, you were trying to hide your anger.

“Darling, you’re a pretty little thing and I could give you the night of your life.” He leered at you, leaning closer towards you.

A strong hand pushed him back, “she said ‘no’”

There was no need to even face the person enunciating each word; you knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

“Miss Prince, we’re having a private conversation.”

Diana stood beside you, her body turned so she faced the both of you.

“I suggest you leave before I have you removed from the building. And if you ever bother y/n again, I promise you, you will regret it. And a promise is unbreakable.”

The male withered under her stare and slithered away from view. You glanced up at Diana, who towered over you, even more so in her heels, and saw the controlled fury in her eyes.

The way the light of the room shone on her face and illuminated her eyes forced yourself in the memory of the night of your attempted assault.

The realisation hit you like a train.

This was the confirmation that you needed.

It was her.

“Y/N?”

You stared into her eyes, unable to tear yourself from her.

“Y/N?” Diana repeated, resting her hand against your cheek. The warmth of her skin against yours brought you back to reality.

“Y-You. I-”

You stumbled over your words, unable to string any words together to form a coherent sentence.

“Come with me.”

Not waiting for a response, Diana took your hand in hers and led you back to her office. She closed the door, locking it behind her and switching on her lamp so the room wasn’t completely dark.

You stood in front of her, still unsure of what to say.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting weird all day. What’s wrong?” She asked, her concern evident in her tone.

“You’re her.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Her. The one who saved me last night.”

You watched as Diana’s eyes flickered with panic. It was only for a brief moment and you wouldn’t have caught it if you weren’t looking.

Her mouth opened as if ready to disprove any of your thoughts before closing it again when she saw the look on your face.

“How did you know?” She sighed.

“Your eyes.”

“I’m sorry?” She repeated.

“Your eyes. They were the same. Since the moment I met you, the first thing I noticed were your eyes. The way they sparkled with kindness but I could still see the hurt behind it. They’re beautiful.” Your voice faltered as you finished speaking.

“Um, that was inappropriate. I shouldn’t have said that. I-I’ll go.”

As you were about to walk out of her office, she moved to block the door.

“Don’t go.” Her accent came out strong.

“Diana, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Look, I appreciate you working with me these past couple of months. It’s been a great help. We can just forget this happened and just go back to our lives.” You suggested, walking back to the centre of the room.

“What if I don’t want to?”

Her words came out in a low whisper, the huskiness of her voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“W-what?” You swallowed dryly.

“I said, what if I don’t want to forget?” She repeated, walking closer to you whilst you unconsciously backed away slowly until stopping when your back hit her desk.

“I’ve loved spending time with you, y/n. You’ve become extremely important to me. And seeing that guy trying to hit on you earlier angered me because you’re not his. You’re mine.”

Your eyes widened. Though you’d never seen this side of Diana before, you were extremely turned on; a warmth spreading through you.

Diana continued, smiling at the noticeable effect she had on you.

“I know you feel the same way. I see the way you look at me and the way you blush when I catch you staring. You know me. The other me. You’re beautiful and I like you, y/n. A lot.”

You licked your lips and then lightly bit your bottom lip, once again speechless. Never in a million years did you think she’d like you back.

You decided words weren’t going to be enough and instead, you gathered your courage, the alcohol helping you in that respect, and closed the distance between you.

It was a light kiss, practically a peck, just to test the waters as they say but it still felt right.

You pulled away and leaned back against the desk. There was a look in her eye that you couldn’t quite distinguish but before you had any time to dwell on it, Diana instantly kissed you back, this time with more fervour.

She lifted you onto the desk as if you weighed nothing and with her strength, you probably didn’t. Her hands gripped the sides of your waist, steadying you, as you opened your legs wider so she could move between them.

Your arms wrapped around her neck pulling her deeper into you. She tugged your bottom lip between her teeth, not hard enough to make you wince but definitely enough to make you moan.

You felt her smirk against your lips as her hands moved upwards from bracketing your hips to the side of your breasts. She continued the motion before kissing you one final time and reluctantly pulled away.

Your breath came out in a pant, trying to get as much oxygen back into your lungs as possible.

“That was-”

“Amazing.” Diana finished.

You still sat atop of her desk, not having enough energy to move as of yet, and you were sure your legs wouldn’t be able to hold you up either after that heavy make out session.

Diana rested her hands against your waist once more before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek.

How she went from being so full of passion and heat to being so gentle and sweet, you’d never know. You had a feeling she was going to keep you on your toes.

“As much as I didn’t want to stop, we still have people to see. What do you say we talk to a few more guests and then we can go back to my place and finish what we started?”

Diana asked, stroking your cheek with her thumb as her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“I’m never going to figure you out, am I?” You said light-heartedly, as you came to your feet.

Diana held your hand in hers and walked to the door,

“I don’t know. I’d say you know me pretty well already.”

[chiwhorei]

who prays for the headsman?

paring: k. kyoutani x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 3.2k

warnings: size kink, crying, oral (f. receiving), major character death, pseudo-incest, stepcest, violence (not a gorey depiction), stabbing, a mention of blood, medieval beheading, angst okay this is sad you have been warned

a/n: Hello! HQHQ monthly collab time, sinners! I’m super excited to share this with you all, it was truly a work of love. All of the other amazing fantasy collab pieces can be found here!

hymns: murder song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1) - AURORA, the judge - twenty one pilots

“The girl’s mother and I are to be wed with haste,” Kyoutani Kentarou’s father pats his small head, smoothing down the blond locks, “Be sure to make y/n feel comfortable. She isn’t your blood, but she’s your family now, son.”

From the moment his father brought you and your mother home, still wrapped in thick mourning veils and tears, his cross to bare was you.

You needed barely an introduction before melting into the comfort of Kentarou. Wrapping your small hands around his middle and burying your face against his neck. Your stiff black dress crinkles against him. The contact was a magnetic, instantaneous spell. Like moth meeting flame, and Kyoutani would burn for it until the next lifetime. The bubbling, itching hellfire marring his tanned skin for two decades.

It’s easier to see the resulting moments in pieces. Shiny, silver blade raised high and gleaming in the light, a sharp swipe of the weapon through the stale air, and finally a thump of weight against the ground below. Still, quiet, and absolute. There’s no escaping the headman’s blade.

The virgin light of dawn rouses Kyoutani from a fitful night of sleep, he stretches his arm out to find your form and only catches the empty shell of blankets you’ve left behind. You’re always awake to greet the cresting rays of light as if they need your permission before ascending to greet the rest of the townspeople. You are the end and beginning of each day.

He finds you sat by the stone fireplace, nightdress hanging off of your shoulders and shawl wrapped tightly to keep the winter’s air at bay. You’ve always preferred the springtime. Even so, the smile that turns at the ends of your lips warms his body like the pouring of melted honey. He basks in you for a moment from afar, as close as he ever feels worthy of being.

“How did you sleep?” Your hand reaches out as he moves farther into the cottage’s main room, touching the warmth of his bare chest. Kyoutani pulls you into him, pressing a kiss to your temple and folding your head against the crook of his neck. Your question goes unanswered, as you both already know: there’s never much rest gifted to the headsman.

A tall wisteria tree sits just outside of town. It’s branches are long and decaying. No flowers bloom on a tree the gods have forgotten. But that doesn't deter you from airy footsteps carrying you to it’s base.

“There’s nothing you can do, y/n,” Kyoutani presses, reaching his arms out to ensure you don’t fall, “there’s no fixing rotten roots.”

You scoff, bunching up your skirt at the ends and kneeling at the large trunk.

Where you bound forward without care, your Kentarou is always there to catch you. As you stoop down by the lifeless tree, his stern eyes narrow. You lay your hands against the rough bark, rubbing upwards and back down. All you need is the notion of life. Your eyes shut in concentration, fingers dancing along the coarse texture. It’s there, deep inside, waiting for you to tug at and rouse back to life. You can see it just behind your eyelids, purples and long flora hanging down, surrounding you in it’s beauty.

“H-how did you do that, y/n?” Kyoutani is cemented in shock behind you, where naked, ghoulish limbs once sat are now filled with swaying, violet life.

“I dunno, I get a tingling feeling in my hands. Here,” You pull him down to sit on the ground, pressing your palms to his cheeks. Your touch is like balm on a wound, he closes his eyes and leans in further. His forehead presses against your own. Your hands cradle the sides of his face, thumbs tracing over the soft skin in soothing patterns.

This is wrong, even as a boy no taller than prairie grass; he knows how wrong this feeling is.

“Do you feel it, Kenta?”

Kyoutani’s job isn’t to decide a person's fate, but the blood still soaks his hands all the same. His walk home is always to the beat of heavy, warning footsteps. His figure is looming, shrouded in thick leather and chain medal. The faulted axe hangs by his side, gripped tightly and weighed down with the heavy smell of iron. He counts his sins every night, prays for absolution but still scrubs the blood of strangers off of his arms and wraps you up in them.

“You fucking bastard,” a strangers voice sounds behind Kyoutani like a siren. He hears the rustling of critics followed by the feeling of a stone thrown against his back.

“You murdered my brother. He was a good man and you killed him.” Kyoutani sighs deeply, he knows the blame will fall on him with every swing his blade makes, so any retort is swallowed. There’s never much reason to quabble, as word travels in a small town like water through a sieve.

“I know who you are, Kyoutani Kentarou. Your father was a good man, and your sweet little sister grew up to be quite the-” All reason shatters under Kyoutani’s boot in an instant, feet carrying him in his hecklers’ direction. His clenched fist meeting the man’s eye socket with deadly force, vision blurring and reason fleeting. He shouldn’t be handing out home brewed justice, but there’s no rationale exercised when your name passes through a strangers mouth.

Kyoutani is a strong man, but fighting three against one would be a losing battle no matter what. No matter how noble his intent is, a sharp knife to the stomach is impossible to ignore. The stranger twists the dagger, bringing his face to Kyouatani’s ear.

“Say hi to your dear ole’ dad for me, eh?”

He hears the man’s snide voice against the pounding in his head. He feels cold and far away, falling down a tunnel with no bottom.

“They’ll be coming for you, y/n,” Your lover's voice lilts against your back, but you don’t turn to meet his eyes just yet. Your hands busy themselves against the familiar grooves of bark. The wisteria’s flowers create a sanctuary from the cruelty of the outside world. It’s a sanctuary, but this spot is one of original sin. The first brush of lips sealed fate years ago that will be actualized by daybreak.

“I know, Kenta-” Your soft voice usually calms the blonde man in front of you, but under the plague of circumstance, your words are sharp spikes against his heart.

“Why did you do it then? How could you be so careless? The mark of a witch means only one thing.” Kyoutani’s stern voice cuts you off, holding you in place, “You never think about the consequences of your reckless heart. Look at me, woman.” His body towers over you, broad chest against your back. His hand finds your jaw, pulling it harshly to force eye contact. Darkened brown eyes fall upon your watery ones and his angry facade shatters like pottery in the small space between your two bodies. You sniffle in his hold, fat tears run down your cheeks as you stutter a response.

“I couldn’t let you die, you’re the only family I have left. I- I love you, Kenta.” A sob rips through you, the declaration isn’t a new one, but it’s context is uniquely heartbreaking. Kyoutani pulls you into him immediately, wrapping strong, scarred arms around your shoulders. You cling to him, a piece of history repeating itself as it likes to do, wrapped in each other and the royal purples of wisteria.

Your lips quiver an inch away from his, stained with salty tears. Kyoutani feels the warmth of plush skin dangled in front of him, there’s an urgency rushing through him where he’s usually hesitant. There isn’t much more time. Without consulting the angel on his right shoulder, two large hands cup your face and pull your lips against his own.

Your cries are muffled by the sloppy pull of your own tongue into Kyoutani’s mouth. As his traces over yours with a chorus of nips and licks, his hands fall to your waist to bunch up the fabric against your hips. The action causes your body to press flush to his crotch.

“We have one more night together, Kenta. Please.” Your words don’t need much appraisal, you could ask Kyoutani to pull the skies down with his bare hands and he would tear the blankets off of any gods above without a second thought. One more night.

Kyoutani unwraps himself from around your form to sit down on the spongy grass below. The terrain is soft and forgiving despite its location in the dense forest. He watches you above him, angelically outlined in the soft moonlight. The personification of virtue and goodness glimmering off of you like an aura. The purest beauty to ever exist, and he’s at the helm of it’s destruction.

The sound of your dress pooling at your feet pulls him from mulling over his past transgressions. His eyes follow a line up from said garment to where your bare cunt is nestled between hip bones. His gaze climbs farther, lacerating the memory of every dip and curve so they scar against his heart. He needs to remember everything.

You join him on the soft grass, knees swung on either side of his large thighs. His hands find your hips again, pressing into the flesh as you begin to rock lightly against him. Your movement is disastrous to his resolve, the tension in his body delivers harsh oval bruises against the skin of your ass.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” Your confessions are accented by kisses against Kyoutani’s cheeks and lips. Your soul, your heart, your everything are each other’s; and tonight is the final assemblage.

Kyoutani’s touch is like scarlet fever against your body, burning in its journey to grope any flesh he could reach. His fingers have to cement this feeling into his fingerprints, after tonight only the phantom pains of you will remain.

“You feel so good Kenta. S-So right.” Your mewls rattle around against his skull, as one palm comes down to meet your heated pussy. The most morally abject sin he’s committed- even counting the heads that roll by his feat every day- is you. But still; he can’t argue the morality of your body writhing naked above him when his cock is already straining angrily against the leather of his pants. His fingers trace down from the hip bone to where your puffy lips sit. It’s amazing how sweet, how soft you are. Where Kyoutani is calloused and harsh, you are smooth and silken. Perfection. Depravity.

As one thick finger proads against your hole, your hips buck with new resolve. You crave more than just fleeting touches and stolen glances. You want him to let go completely, something he’s only done a handful of times. You need him to.

“I’m not made of ceramic Kyoutani. You treat me like a child, but I’m stronger than you seem to believe.” You use your family name for punctuation, but the sentence comes out melted on the edges when he sticks another digit in to join the first.

“Don’t you think I know that, y/n. Fuck. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known,” a resounding slap meets your ass, jolting you farther against his fingers, “but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t protect you. That’s my job, damnit.” His thumb finds your swollen clit with ease even within his flustered state and presses down, “I failed you.”

You don’t trust your own voice to answer, you know nothing you could say would ease his heart. All you can do is push forward in hopes that one night can make up for the life he’ll have to live without you. Your hands move down to loosen his suffocating pants, wobbly knees digging against the ground as he eases the leather down his legs.

Your hand grabs a hold of his hard cock, stroking from his thick base to reddened tip. The touch is familiar. Something that wracks him with guilt but fills his soul with warmth. It’s always been your touch. Similar to the sparks rendered from striking flint, your touch lights up his every nerve

Kentarou’s fingers move back to work you open for him, your head falls back, causing the fat of your tits to bounce against his chest. His other rough hand comes up to palm your breasts, pinching your hardened nipple and pulling down. You cry out in pleasure at the attention, senses overwhelmed by your lover’s ministrations.

“Please, please do something.” Your voice is desperate against the shell of his ear, pleading for more. More of Kentarou, and naively, for more time.

With a swift, practiced movement, the blonde moves you to lay against the grass. He removes the blood-stained shirt from his chest and kicks off his pants. His body eclipses yours, shielding you from view. You’re surrounded by him, the heady scent of sweat, the sound of the racing heart against his ribcage like a trapped songbird. It’s all Kyoutani, it always has been; your home, your confessional, the safest reprieve and your most vile secret.

Kyoutani’s cock is freed from its confines to slap deftly against his stomach. Your mouth tries to swallow as if filled with dried tea leaves, his size isn’t always the most accommodating. Even so, you lift up on one elbow to curl your fingers around his shaft and groan once again when your pointer finger and thumb don’t meet. Kyoutani opens his mouth to speak but you answer before the words fall.

“Don’t be gentle, Kentarou, ” your dwarfed hand tugs him towards you, creating a dizzying pressure, “I can take it.”

There’s no room for argument in your words, so he dips down to kiss your lips once again. “Let me taste you, y/n. Just one more time.” His eyes hold flames but regard you as softly as possible. You nod in agreement. His lips running down from your neck to your hips, you feel the chapped skin against your own. With each peck, a path of tears follow in tandem. His shaky cries are hidden behind the moans being pulled from your lungs. You don’t acknowledge it, for doing so would just make the wracking pain even worse.

There’s no use speaking of your combined suffering, it’s already dug it’s blade into Kyoutani’s vertebrae.

Once his mouth reaches your wet pussy, there’s nothing left of his conscious. Where guilt usually lies, madness replaces. The first swipe of his tongue is painfully slow, he has to savor this taste, your taste. Your soft, swollen lips are the gods’ manna and he’s been given one last chance to indulge. Kyoutani’s tongue finds your clit and flicks upward, just the way that’s always made you squeal. You’re coating his chin in slick, and nothing else will ever quench his thirst like this again. He could stay in between your legs for the next century, but rips himself away from your dripping cunt.

Your mouth is captured in his again, tongue and cheeks coated in your own arousal. The feeling distracting you from the reddened tip prodding at your tight hole. You suck in a sharp breath as you’re worked open. Every vein and ridge tugs against your snug walls. It hurts, it always does, but there’s nothing that’s ever felt better either. You bite his collarbone in a feeble attempt to keep quiet, nails cresting small shapes against his back as he slides farther and farther in.

“My pretty girl, so perfect for me.” Kyoutani’s hips meet your ass, giving you a moment to acclimate. You’re pulled taut around him, cock dragging against you as he pulls back. He remembers your previous words. I can take it.

His hips slam against you with ferocity. Every expanse of fat on you bounces. Thighs, tits, ass- all moving with the pace he sets. His cock is begging for release with every union of his tip to your cervix. A litany of cries and pleas fill the surrounding air, lilting around to bounce against the drooping flowers.

“Please Kenta, I’m- I’m going to.” Your sentence breaks off at the end but he puts them back together. He coos you, “I know, little one. Let go for me.” He presses two fingers against your clit once more to rub tight circles.

Your toes curl against the grass below you, body locking up as the blood running through your veins is replaced with gooey syrup. Years of tension and shame pull tightly against your body and snap in an instant.

Kyoutani can’t hold off his own orgasm any longer, not with the vice grip you have on him.

Not with the sound of the constable's horses drawing closer to the old wisteria tree.

It’s easier to see the resulting moments in pieces.

Kyoutani’s blade is sharpened meticulously. “A dull axe is worlds more painful.” Even as his heart is being torn from under his breast bone, webs of muscle and tendon snapping like sewing floss the closer he walks to your kneeling form, he remembers his father’s words.

The ringing in his ear drowns out the sound of your sentence being passed, it’s better he doesn't hear the official crimes you are posed with, lest he swings his weapon against the priest instead. He wants to reach out, to untie you and run away, to find a new world. A world where he hears the pattering of little footsteps and sees chubby hands clinging against your apron. A world where he wakes up to your wrinkled cheeks and graying hair.

Shiny, silver blade raised high and gleaming in the light, a sharp swipe of the weapon through the stale air, and finally a thump of weight against the ground below. Still, quiet, and absolute.

There’s no escaping the headman’s blade.

The wisteria tree is the beginning and end. Long, purple flowers sealing fate. Kyoutani pulls reluctant feet to the tree's base, his forehead pressing against the bark. He turns around and slides down to sit against the trunk. His hands roam against the texture of the grass beneath him. He remembers the spindly branches and decaying wood from years ago when he closes his eyes, he remembers your hands clawing back it’s life from the lowest level of hell.

When his eyes open again, they are met with yours. Soft, beautiful, and achingly familiar. You smile, lips turning upwards and teeth peaking out slightly. Your hand reaches out to cup his face, a dull crackle of warmth reaches his skin where forest fires use to smolder. It’s not the same, but it’s you. He knows it’s you somehow. Whether it be a cruel trick from the gods or his brain succumbing to madness. It’s still you. Your warmth is surrounding him again, and it feels almost right.

“Do you feel it, Kenta?” Your voice is warped and echoes like a hollow drum, he can’t help the tears falling in thick streams. It’s you. He reaches out to touch you, but his hands remain empty and cold. You disappear in a second, your face vanishing from where he swore he could almost feel your lips against his own.

You leave him once again and take the bright flowers of wisteria with you.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[ryik-the-writer]

Laughter in the Walls: The Basement

A03

It was sometimes easy for Belle to forget that her new home was haunted.

There were days when Rumplestiltskin—the self-proclaimed “residential haunter” of the salmon-colored mansion—would be jumping off the walls, moving things, bringing chaos and excitement into Belle and her son’s life.

Then there were days like today when he’d go oddly quiet. Belle had woken up that morning to no Rumplestiltskin. None at breakfast, none when she saw Gideon off, and none now with her having more free time than she’d had in weeks.

Though she cared for Rumple very much, she took immediate advantage of his absence.

She went through the budget for the town library that was set to open in another week, unpacked her last box in the living room, and got the kitchen cleaned…all in less than thirty minutes.

She leaned back on her couch, listening to the clock hanging over the fireplace.

“Wow,” she muttered aloud. After being a mother for nearly 18 years and living in a haunted house, she’d grown completely unaccustomed to quiet time.

“Um…” she hesitated, double guessing when she’d ever get a moment like this again, a moment just to sit back and breath.

But that novelty quickly wore off.

“Rumple?” she called out, preparing for him to suddenly appear behind her or jump onto her coffee table…something!

But Rumplestiltskin did not appear or attempt to scare her.

Belle hummed, worrying her lip. Where was he?

With a determined hum, she began her search, going up the bedrooms and even checking the closets, on the way down she did the same until finally she stepped out into the garden.

Belle addressed the area, scrunching her nose at the dead vines on the fence. She hadn’t touched it since she moved in being that it was far too cold to begin cleaning up, and she was certain that Rumple would give her grief when she began.

She walked around the small space, mulling over her ghostly housemate’s antics.

The last few weeks had certainly been an adventure, truly the most interesting few weeks of both her and Gideon’s life so far.

Knowing Rumple’s life before his unfortunate death had softened her to him, and him to them in return it would seem.

Sure he still played his little tricks but he was finally allowing them to settle in and get comfortable.

But Belle had also noticed that he seemed to keep them at arm’s length as well.

He never officially joined them for meals, and the first time Belle asked him he looked shocked enough to die all over again. Instead he’d levitate peas or shuffle around silverware, hiding his true feelings behind harmless chaos.

She moved a stone with the toe of her shoe, mulling over where her residential haunter could be.

Her eyes landed on the dusty basement windows—the one room in the house she hadn’t touched yet.

Snapping her fingers, she ran back inside to find the key Mary Margaret Nolan had given her the day she moved in. It fit in the lock perfectly but Belle grunted a bit to turn it.

She had to force her weight onto the door to get the thing open and nearly tumbled down the stairs when it finally swung open.

She spat when she walked into a cobweb, waiving away dust and the smell of age as she carefully made her way down the skeptical wooden steps.

“Rumple?” Belle called down, her voice echoing off the gritty walls as she felt for a light.

She found the end of the steps—thankfully without falling down them—and squinted into the dark, just able to make out a few objects.

She stepped around carefully, hands reaching out to graze along what felt like furniture until blessedly she felt the coolness of a glass lamp shade. She eagerly groped the lamp until she felt pull string, and with a tough the room was illuminated in a gentle but useful light.

She blinked, letting her eyes adjust, and after a moment she gasped at the objects before her.

It was like she was in a dusty museum full of treasures. Furniture and lamps, and so much more that Belle just could not see from the lack of light.

She looked around and spotted the windows. They were caked in a thick layer of dust and dirt, the thinnest slithers of light struggling to escape.

Belle sidestepped a few crates and removed her cardigan, using a table against the wall to lift herself up so that she could clean the glass.

After a great deal of effort, the glass was clean enough so that she could see better. As she eased herself off the table, she felt paper crumple under her palms. She looked down and to her delight, the table she was on was overflowing with an old tea set and…books!

She brushed off her hands, eagerly examining the piles before her. Dickens, Hugo and even an older copy of Shakespeare poems! Some were unbound, as if someone were trying to prepare them?

One book towards the end seemed to be in the roughest state of all. It’s spine a strip of cloth and Belle couldn’t even make out the title on the overly worn cover, though she noticed that the spine was held together by some new thread.

She carefully picked the book up to look at the pages, hoping to gain some sort of insight of what the book was about when a cold presence suddenly washed over her.

“Careful dearie!”

Belle jumped back, knocking into the table behind her and causing the porcelain on it to clatter. She visibly paled when she heard one of the pieces hit the dusty floor.

Rumplestiltskin stepped to her side, taking the crumbling book from her hands much more gently than she thought he would.

“You’re holding one the first copies of La Belle et la Bête!”Rumplestiltskin growled. “It took me months just to stitch the pages back together.”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” Belle gasped, overcoming her shock quickly to address the damage she did to the porcelain tea set.

A lump formed in the throat when she found the cup she caused to fall on the ground, a very small but noticeable chip in its rim.

“I’m so sorry,” Belle said, cursing her unyielding curiosity. “I chipped it…”

She tensed when Rumple squatted down to her level, addressing the cup in her hands with a blank expression.

“You…you can hardly see it.” She offered with a strained smile.

Rumplestiltskin met her eyes and caught the fresh terror there. Though it pleased him he could make her feel such fear despite their month-long acquaintance, it did concern him just a bit. Did she really think he’d rage over a cheap tea set? Sure, it was bothersome that she stumbled into his sanctuary…but it wasn’t all his now anymore…

“It’s just a cup,” he assured, taking the thing out of her hands and avoiding how he almost…almost…felt the heat from her skin. “Worth nothing really. I don’t even have the full set any more.”

Belle visibly sagged in relief, picking herself up as Rumplestiltskin placed the cup on the table.

“What is all this?”

Rumplestiltskin turned to acknowledge the relics of his past, years of toil gathering dust or rotting right in front of his eyes.

“What’s left of my shop.” He answered, leaving her side to flick a cobweb from an old spinning wheel.

“Shop?” Belle gasped. “You had a shop here?”

“No,” he laughed wetly. “In town. They moved all this here after I…”

Belle worried her lip, know his next words.

“You…fixed things?” she said, rushing to change the subject.

“Fixed, appraised, some might even stole,” he giggled, though the humor wasn’t in his voice. “It was an antique shop with a pawning theme. When people couldn’t pay back what they borrowed for their items, I sold them. Some would call that theft.”

Belle shrugged, not wanting to comment on how a bit unfair that seemed.

“Is that why you came down here?” she inquired. “To remember?”

Rumplestiltskin blinked, a flash of who he used to be running before his yes.

Mr. Gold, the pawnbroker who owned everything in Storybrooke from the properties to everyone’s first born. The monster. The friendless fiend who’d watch parties and get-togethers at the diner from his car. Who had all the wealth in the world but no one to share it with.

Someone his own flesh and blood tried to forget.

“Rumple?”

He glanced back at her, those soulful blue eyes easing away his less savory thought.

“Not much to remember,” he sighed, walking past her.

Belle’s mouth went dry as she tried to find the right words to comfort him, however it was painfully obvious that their experiences with loneliness were painfully diverse.

The loneliest time in her life was during her pregnancy with Gideon and right after he was born. Will’s paternal instincts just wouldn’t turn on and her parents, thought accepting of her new role, were silently disappointed.

By the time Will left for good and Belle began online classes and a part-time job to support her new baby, she’d been able to accept her new role as a teenage mother.

And she’d never truly been alone, but judging by Rumple’s demeanor and the Nolan’s insight on his previously life, he had been.

She looked around at the objects that had filled his life, that brought him company when people could not.

She smiled fondly at the books, wondering how many hours he spent caring for them, if the words from the words managed to tame some of his time.

Her eyes scanned to the spinning wheel, wondering what he created from the antique.

 “What do you think about bringing this upstairs?”

He stared at the old spinning wheel, disgusted.

“Why?”

“It’s beautiful. It’d look great in my library,” She shrugged. “Plus, it was yours, and … this is your home too.

Rumplestiltskin scoffed, his gaze softening when his back was to her. “Do what you wish.”

Belle smiled, noticing the change in his tone. She got him this time.

She looked around the basement, noticing several other pieces that would fit in other parts of her – their home.

She’d volunteer Gideon to help her fish them out later, but for now she’d start small.

She turned to make work on the spinning wheel but noticed it had vanished. A moment later, a loud thump above sent a shower of dirt and dust on her.

“Wouldn’t want you to say something, dearie!” he called from upstairs—her library.

[themangoyogurt]

Between 29th and Astoria: Cinder-Fucking-Ella

Chapter 6

The day sped by in a whirlwind of nervous energy. Lunch with Mr. Ren left butterflies in your stomach, creating excitement and energy as you buzzed around the office. Your mind kept drifting to the feeling of his warm hand against your lower back, and the way his eyes crinkled when you said something funny. Despite your interest in the man, a small voice would quietly remind you that you were just an assistant. Maybe Mr. Ren was only extending an olive branch, and you shouldn’t read too much into it. After all, logic would dictate that work would be a lot more productive if his assistant actually enjoyed her job.

Even if you weren’t working underneath the accomplished mogul, it wasn’t like someone like him would ever be interested in someone like you. Expectations ought to be managed. Sure, it was perfectly acceptable to harbor a small crush on your boss. But you couldn’t let it get away from you.

Yet, another more irrational side of you wished so badly that Mr. Ren would do something completely insane like ask you out.

As if.

By the time you got home, you had resigned yourself to simply admiring Kylo from afar. You really had no business going around falling in love with a billionaire. Toeing off your heels at the door, you were welcomed home with shrieks of laughter. The sounds of house filled to the brim in joy and friendship bounced against the white walls.

Rose was in the center of the living room sashaying around as she held a tulle skirt up to her chest. Finn and Poe were hooting as she pretending to wave and bow towards her adoring fans.

“What’s going on here guys?” You laughed while Poe rolled his wrists in circles as he hinged at the waist. Rose gave him a curtsey and then bounded your way. Clutching your hands in her own she shrieked, “We’re going to a ball! Like Cinder-fucking-ella!” Finn guffawed and shook his head. You collapsed onto the couch between the darker man and Poe, watching Rose as she continued to turn in circles around the room.

Poe laughed, “Close. Finn and I need dates for this yearly charity gala work makes us attend. We figured it would be more fun with our favorite gals. It’s held at the Lincoln Center, and its going to be amazing!” Finn cheered and leapt up to catch Rose in his arms. The pair began to waltz around the room as Rose sang the chorus to Beauty and Beast.

Stifling a laugh at Finn’s look of offense, you turned towards Poe. “Really? A gala? I don’t even know how to begin unpacking this.”

He reached over to the coffee table and uncorked a bottle of red wine. Shoving a full glass into your hands, he replied, “Drink this while I talk. Alright, the gala is on a Saturday so it doesn’t conflict with your work schedule. Next, Rose’s sister works at that stupidly fancy boutique on Fifth Ave., and she can get you guys some clothes at a steep discount. Lastly, you deserve this sweet pea. You need to take a break once in a while. Plus, there will be important people in the room to network with. I know you miss photography. This is New York City, babe. You never know what will happen!”

The man wiggled his eyebrows and continued, “At the very least there will be tons of free fancy pants food and champagne.”

“You really know the way to a girl’s heart, Poe.” Downing the rest of the wine, you gave him a sigh and a nod. Rose and Finn burst into claps before Rose climbed back onto the couch. Tossing her arms around you, she cheered, “I already texted Paige! We’re going to have a shopping party!”

Throwing your face into her arm you moaned, “Why is everything a party with you Ticos?”

Rose giggled and squeezed you tighter. “Because life is worth celebrating!”

Wednesday rolled around, and you found yourself impatiently tapping the leg of your desk with the side of your heel. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you reminded yourself that your friends were just being kind, and that you should be gracious at their generosity.

Side-eyeing your phone, you pulled up the conversation with Rose.

Rose Tico | 4:19 PM | Okay! I confirmed the private shopping appointment for today with Paige. Let me text you the address!

Rose Tico | 4:19 PM | 754 5th Ave. It’s between 5th Ave. and W. 57th St.

The address was pulled up on Google Maps and sat mocking you from the computer screen. Bergdorf Goodman. You needed to have a talk with Poe and Rose regarding using the words “fancy” and “boutique” lightly.

There was no way you could afford anything in that fucking department store. And knowing Poe and Rose, they probably worked out some scheme to get you decked out in the most expensive shit while paying the least.

Your heart was touched that Rose and Poe wanted to spoil you. But your pride was finding it hard to accept such an ostentatious gift. You continued to debate with yourself when a familiar baritone snapped you right back to reality.

“Bergdorf’s, huh? Finally getting that Chanel?”

Somehow you managed to clumsily close the tab while simultaneously swiveling around in your chair. Mr. Ren was leaning against the wall behind your chair. Hands in his pockets, his chest rumbled in laughter as he watched you panic.

“No! I mean, yes. But no, I’m not buying a Chanel. My - uhm - friend is taking me shopping though. I need...I mean it’s not really...”

You could see the headlines now - “Personal Assistant Launches Herself Out of Forty-Fifth Floor Window”. Kylo tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. Leveling his voice, he flatly ventured, “Your friend is taking you shopping. How generous of...him.”

You heard it. It was barely there, but you heard it. Mr. Ren was trying to suss out if a male was taking you on a shopping spree. As much as you wanted to tease the man, the prospect of keeping your job was a lot more enjoyable. Your voiced lamely squeaked, “Her. My roommate’s sister has an employee discount, and I need new clothes.”

His lip twitched upwards, as if the man was trying to suppress a smile. Looking downwards, he lightly tugged at the lapel of his jacket. Flattening the fabric against his chest, he nodded as he straightened the top.

“I see. Well, enjoy the shopping trip then. Feel free to leave at 5 today. There isn’t much work left.”

With that, the man turned on his heel and slinked back into his office. At the sound of the heavy oak doors closing, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

This was unnecessary. This was so, so, so, unnecessary. You were perched atop a velvet Bergère that was more appropriate in the bedroom of an 18th century princess. Despite your general discomfort at being primped and fussed over, Paige had a disarming attitude about her that left you feeling less apprehensive about the whole ordeal.

Or maybe it was the fact that Rose had smartly plied you with three glasses of champagne before the styling session had begun.

Paige had just wrapped up going over measurements and jotting down ideas when an older gentleman stepped into the parlor. He discretely slipped a folded piece of paper to the woman before excusing himself.

Paige’s eyes twinkled and a mischievous smile spread across her delicate features. Tossing the piece of parchment aside, she sang, “Alright, I’m going to pull some garments. You ladies relax and enjoy some light bites while I’m gone.”

She blew a kiss, and skipped out the door. Judging by the boundless energy the sisters shared, you wondered if enthusiasm was genetic. Rose settled herself on the armrest and laid her head atop yours. She played with the hem of your sleeve as the two of you relaxed into friendly conversation.

“Hey, Rose?”

She hummed.

“Thanks. Seriously...for setting this up with Paige. It was really sweet of you guys, and I’m having fun. Really!”

Rose gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Of course! You’re my best friend, and you deserve nothing but the best.”

Paige burst into the room with flourish as she dragged two racks along. Rose squealed at the sight of silk and feathers and immediately began to comb through the garments.

“Down, girl!” Paige teased as Rose gushed over the lush fabrics. You noticed that one of the racks was suspiciously fuller than the other. Paige caught you gaze and smiled. “Rose told me that you haven’t shopped for yourself in ages. I thought we could try on a few extra things just for fun.”

You cringed at your Banana Republic trousers. Did they do the job? Sure. Did you look good? That was up for debate.

Paige put on some upbeat electronic music, and the three of you began to go through outfits. You had a suspicion that Rose was only a decoy to get you comfortable with trying on expensive garments. The petite woman was certainly a lot more invested in what was going on your body, as opposed to her own.

“Oh my God. You need to try this on.” Rose screeched. She was holding up a black wool sweater dress with cut outs by the arm and a soft turtle neck.

You pulled the dress from her hands and took a look at it before screaming, “Rose! What am I going to do with a six hundred dollar sweater from Helmut Lang?!”

Oh no. The woman threw you her all and her best. Brown eyes cast wide open in innocence, she silently nudged you towards the dressing room. Relenting with a groan, you stomped away, but not before shouting over your shoulder, “I thought we were shopping for one dress. One!”

Your protests fell upon deaf ears. Once you emerged from the room, Rose and Paige immediately ganged up on you. They continued to ignore your objections (“No, Paige! Nobody in their right mind needs a $4,000 Akris wool coat!”), and piled outfit after outfit upon you.

One hour later, and you flopped onto your back to stare at the ceiling. Designer department store be damned, you’d make yourself right at home on their overpriced rug. Rose sat cross-legged by your face and massaged your arms.

“I’m sorry we love playing dress up so much,” Rose whispered as she gave up on your arms and began braiding your hair. You never had siblings growing up, so you were unaccustomed to the hustle and bustle that were the Tico sisters. Rolling onto your side, you propped your head up on one arm and replied, “It’s okay. I’m sorry if I’m being a sourpuss. I am having fun. I love you and Paige. It’s the reminder that I’m dirt poor that I’m not enjoying.”

Rose fluffed the ends of your hair and smiled. “Just one more dress, and we’ll be done. I promise.”

Just in time, Paige entered the room with a single black garment bag. Carefully unzipping it, she pulled a navy blue gown out. Inch-by-inch the crepe was revealed. The top was off-shoulder with crystal embellishments dotting the neckline in a floral motif. The bust featured beautiful drapes, and fell into a figure-hugging silhouette. A soft and delicate chiffon cape fell from the back and trailed along the floor.

Sitting up, you gasped, “Wow. That’s not for me, right?”

Paige reached a hand out to help you stand. She slowly eased you into the dress and carefully zipped up the side. You looked like a modern-day princess. How could something be so sexy and elegant at the same time?

Rose rushed to your side and began to coo alongside her sister. The three of you faced the mirror in awe. Fingers shaking, you tentatively reached underneath your arm to look at the price tag.

Paige immediately slapped your hand away. Eyes twinkling, the woman smirked, “That’s for me to know, and you to never find out.” Winking, she gingerly unzipped you and whisked the dress away alongside your very full rack of garments.

You began to protest, but the sisters would hear nothing of it. Thirty minutes later, and Paige returned with a mountain of bags and boxes neatly stacked together. She beckoned you towards a marble desk with a singular black box resting in the center.

“Paige. I don’t understand...”

She grinned and made playful eyes with her sister. Leaning forward, Paige whispered, “Before you came in, a VIP called and insisted that we outfit you in a new wardrobe. They already have an account with us, and insisted that we charge anything that looked good onto their card.”

Words escaped you as you turned to look at the ridiculous amount of clothing expertly packed away. “But...I didn’t even...”

Waving her hands, Paige laughed, “Don’t worry! I only picked practical things you’ll get use out of. I am a personal shopper, after all. I’d never send you home with something you’d hate!”

Mutely nodding, you mentally calculated just how much everything cost. You were pretty sure that there wasn’t a single garment in those bags underneath $500.

Holding up a finger, Paige caught your wandering eyes and motioned towards the black box. Pulling the lid off, she cautiously peeled back layer after layer of tissue paper to reveal leather hidden underneath.

A rectangular bag made of calfskin sat nestled in between paper. Pearls gracefully dotted the perimeter, and the middle featured tweed with classic quilting running across the bag.

Two “C’s” interlocked at the center.

Paige pulled the bag out, and pushed it into your shaking hands. She whispered, “Our VIP insisted that we choose a Chanel Boy Bag for you.”

💖Masterlist 💖

[artificialqueens]

Amoretto - Chapter 1 - (Branjie) - dreamyunicorngirl

A/N: So here I am, long time reader and first time writer! A big thank you to Meggie and Charlotte for betaing this chapter and for all the love and encouragement! You are the best! Also thanks Imposter Zoe for answering all of my questions regarding roman mythology. I hope y'all enjoy this one!

When the night sky darkens and the cold wind kisses Brooke Lynn’s bare skin, she wonders if this is the moment people would consider as hitting “rock bottom.” Dried up tear tracks on perfectly smooth skin tell tales of a heart-wrenching burden.

A scratched-up immortal leaning against a weeping willow, hiding behind its branches. Tired eyes eyeing her self-caused imperfections, silent reminders of losing control. With a hollow thud a clouded head hits the wooden stem, slightly dulling the pain in her heart, or at least the part in her chest where her heart is supposed to be.

Brooke catches her breath as realization settles within her being. She had just disobeyed Venus, refused to play her dirty little game. For once in her life she had won a century-long fight against the gods. A sense of calmness spreads through her limbs at the thought, disregarding any of the consequences she will have to face. Just knowing that she saved one of her victims slows down her frantic spinning mind. At least for now.

Gusts of frigid air play with dirty blonde hair, tossing it around, tugging at her lifeless wings, already pulling her  towards a newly lit path as her head hangs low, feet stomping into the ground. Nature is calling her name, refusing to let her celebrate her short-lived, and in Venus’s eyes, shameful victory in silence as fireflies circle a lost figure, leading the way to her next victim.

The ice-cold beauty closes her stormy eyes, taking in a deep breath as she ignores their presence, praying away their existence. She craves rest and is in desperate need to sort out the inner turmoil in her chest, emotionally exhausted from her last job - or more so the lack of fulfilment of her last job. Violent thoughts running through her delicate head with poisonous promises, keeping the woman bound to the floor. What even is the point of her being? All she does is create to destroy. Bringing an ounce of happiness for a lifetime of darkness. Always being the odd one. Desperately needing a one way out. Just wanting to put a halt to all of this.

But Nature doesn’t give up. Terra doesn’t let her go. Creatures of the night are tugging on shabby wings, pulling the blonde towards the promised path. With shaking limbs and robotic movement her feet are set in motion, her mind slowly but surely losing control over her lean body, the gods taking charge. No willpower to fight them anymore. Tiptoes barely touching the dirt-covered ground as the struggling figure disappears in between her wooden friends. Their birch trunks match her pale complexion, causing her to nearly disappear in the night sky. Nervous fingers play with a wooden bow in rough hands, as thoughts spin in her sleep deprived mind as if they were riding a merry-go-round, still wondering what punishment she will have to endure. Knowing her upcoming job couldn’t be easy, especially after the commotion she had caused just hours ago. As more fireflies appear on the path, creating a heavenly lighted trail leading her to a destination unknown, she condemns all forces from high above. Curses filling the air around her as the blonde desperately tries to make sense of her calling - fully knowing she will never receive an answer.

Hills grace the angelic creature’s vision as her journey finally comes to a halt. Two silent shadows play the leads in the following act. One just a bit taller than the other, watching the stars as the world falls asleep. Two innocent souls doomed from the beginning. One younger than the other, not prepared for the challenges and horrific burden they will have to face. Uproars and disapproval, exclusion and loneliness. Two young men sitting side by side, a reddish head resting on a sepia skinned shoulder, daisy crowns adorning both of their heads. Their future carved into two bloody arrows.

Tears well up in Brooke’s, self-proclaimed, devilish eyes as she stretches her wooden bow, pointing a red painted arrow at an innocent man; starstruck, watching an angel from the shadows. In the spur of the moment rough fingers leave the bowstring as her eyes pinch together, shutting out the world around her, just for a second.

Fingers intertwining, as the redhead professes his love for the other.

One, two, three. One last breath and the blonde has to open her tear-filled eyes again. Shuddering fingers grab the second arrow from a leather quiver strapped to her strained back. With a crinkled nose and gritted teeth, she arranges the arrow pointing towards the other man. Her victim disappearing behind a wall of black tears, clouding her vision. Yet her aim never falters, already knowing in which direction to shoot. It always ends like this. One being held in his lover’s arms, not knowing the pain a devilish angel can bring. As the second arrow flies through the sky, hitting its now love-sick target in its heaving chest, a single tear falls down the blonde’s delicate face, wetting her outstretched arm.

One, two, three blinks, and her tainted vision is clear again. The beginning of the newest chapter presenting itself to her is enough to chase her way. In a sleek tour en l’air she faces the other direction and starts running into the darkness, fleeing from the destruction the ice-cold beauty just caused.

Dirty feet stumble over misshapen roots as a shaking figure hits the ground, harrowing sobs only muffled by the grass beneath her. Another soon-to-be-heartbreak on her account. Another self-destruction caused by her curse. Another day she can’t live with herself.

Thoughts swirling in her restless brain as Cupid’s consciousness fades away.

Judging sun rays already disturb the rising inhabitants of the ever-growing forest, before the blonde’s messed up mind even gets the chance to comprehend nature’s lesson for her disobedience. The creation of star-crossed lovers as an exchange for the woman’s heart she had spared just hours before. A selfless act she had yet to regret. Telling herself that these men were doomed anyway, considering that Venus doesn’t have an ounce of compassion in her heavenly figure. Scratch marks and bruises paint reminders of being a guest in her own body. An excruciating pain spreads in Brooke Lynn’s chest, denying oxygen to enter her lungs for a quick second as the events of the previous night slowly settle in, reminding Cupid that she is nothing more than a prisoner in her own heartless cage. Obligated to follow Venus’s rules, even if that means fighting for something everyone but her seems to believe in, while going against her own core principles.

Endlessly pondering how everyone dares to believe in the illusion she creates every day, waiting their whole life for the day to come when an arrow strikes their chest, turning their whole world upside down, giving into a lie told for thousands of years. Sometimes Brooke wonders if she is the problem, just being a heartless monster, not having the passion to give into fairy tales. But then she remembers all the dark, sickly sweet, crystallized build up around people’s rotten hearts, eating them from the inside out, burying them alive. Symptoms of her curse. She had seen it plenty of times, seen all the hurt and self-destruction caused by the disease humans so lovingly call ‘love.’ Her body shuddering at the thought of a tiny Latina, a girl Brooke is obligated to visit nearly every month, falling so fast for each new stranger. Each time the ice-cold beauty strikes the young woman with an arrow, she has to witness the brunette losing herself a bit more. A broken heart running out of cellotape in her heaving chest, crumbling to pieces with each new wound, causing irreparable destruction.

As the blonde’s mind runs in circles again, wallowing in self-hatred and pity for her victims, contemplating her existence, Venus chooses her next victim.

Butterflies, bees and dragonflies lead the way. Brooke Lynn’s wings flutter on their own accord, her feet hovering over the ground, following a lit-up path as she is carried by obedient dryads. No matter how badly she refuses to comply, how hard she tugs on her wings, desperately trying to rip them off, attempting to escape, her body opposes her mind, following Venus’s golden rules. Safely guarded by Terra’s dogsbodies.

A red tinted path leads the blonde to an all too familiar tiny apartment in the middle of the suburbs of LA. Messy assembled furniture and cheap perfume fill a feisty Latina’s living space. So far, Cupid had only been asked to visit this area during night time - hidden behind shadows - finding her victim in a barely lit ally, making out with boys in dark leather jackets and tattoos or hooking up with willing punk girls in her chaotic bedroom. Never once did the girl see the devilish angel behind her back, barely having a reaction to poisonous arrows piercing through her heaving chest.

Tonight is different though. The small brunette is seated on her unmade bed, cradling an electronic device like a mother to her newborn, brightly smiling at the screen in her hand. Brooke Lynn flicks her stormy eyes across the room - no other human to be seen. Truth be told, it wouldn’t make a difference. The young woman being one of the poor unfortunate souls whose partners never were on Brooke’s list, never receiving an arrow in their chest allowing them the brunette’s so freely given love. The Puerto Rican goddess is the one to always fall head first, yet never stands on the receiving end. A sick life of one-sided love. Heartbreak becoming a steady constant in her life, love stained tears tainting her heated cheeks, while Brooke curses herself for being the source of all her pain. Her non-existent heart breaking with each shed tear, drowning in guilt with each outcry.

Month after month she returns, bow and head held high, watching from afar with a regal poise as she hits her target’s bloody organ perfectly every single time.

But tonight, she craves to get closer to her victim, wants to take in all of her being. Needs to see her face upfront. Just hours after sparring the young woman’s heart, she craves to see who broke the ice beauty’s facade, made her blood boil within a second, going against Venus’s rules by impulse. A force so strong that broke the god’s spell on Cupid for once.

The young woman’s dark brown hair falls in sleek waves over her camo hoodie as she intensely eyes her brightly lit phone up close. Brooke doesn’t really know what she is waiting for as she keeps admiring the stranger. Nature’s creatures have clearly shown her the next victim - one shot and she should be done. Finally able to leave this cursed place. Yet she hesitates as she stretches the blood red arrow across her bowstring, inching closer to the brunette, facing the young woman as she prepares to shoot her lethal arrow as opposed to hiding in the shadows like she usually does.

Brooke always keeps her distance - lurking in the shadows -, but somehow tonight she needs to face the destruction upfront, to see the cruel nature of her being first hand. Not just through muffled cries and loud curses. She somehow craves to take in all the human emotion playing out on the Puerto Rican’s expressive face. Waiting to watch each delicate tear fall.

The blonde hates her very existence for inflicting pain on her victims. Yet deep down she craves the affirmation of her cruel nature - needs to see her devilish figure reflecting in her victim’s eyes. Fully knowing there is nothing she can do to protect them from herself - her body belonging to the gods from high above.

Tip toes hovering over the ground as tired wings manoeuvre Brooke’s aching soul closer to her victim, leaving the safety of the kitchen’s shadows. Grey eyes fixate on the young woman still sitting on her messy bed, taking in all of her being. Finally, being close enough to identify the tattoo on her chest - a sphynx surrounded by rose petals - she longingly takes in all of her perfectly human imperfections - a scar right above her right eyebrow, chapped lips and a visibly crushed expression adorning her face.

The moment she rolls back her tense shoulders and perfectly angles up her wooden bow to directly hit the brunette’s heart, brown doe eyes meet clear stormy ones. Within a heartbeat dark plum painted lips fall agape in a muffled scream. Pupils blown wide as a breath gets caught in her victim’s chest, her phone now laying on the ground.

“Who are you?” A wobbly yet harsh voice escapes dry, plum painted lips as shaking fingers blindly, yet discreetly search for any object that could be used as a possible weapon on her nightstand.

Cupid takes a step back, or rather hovers, as she catches her breath. Eyes equally torn open, chest tightening at the shocking encounter. A shiver wraps up her holy figure, icicles piercing through the fair skin of her delicate hands, numbing her palms.

“You can see me?” Her statement comes more off like a question, to which she already knows the answer. Centuries of loneliness paint her disbelief. A hitched breath catches in her frozen lungs.

Darkening brown eyes dart across the messy room as the younger woman’s heartbeat quickens with each passing second, waiting for more intruders to join the scene. Shaking fingers now fumble around her bed, trying to find anything to defend herself with, even if it is just a goddamn Bible. Her breathing becomes erratic as she fixes her gaze on the woman in front of her, bow and head held high, a lifeless pair of eyes staring right back at her. Icy blonde curls framing her perfect yet cold face, radiating a heavenly aura.

The blonde carefully keeps an eye on the human in front of her with furrowed brows, her trembling figure not being left unnoticed by the blonde. The Latina’s intense gaze fixed on the arrow, accompanied with a clenched jaw, might the answer to all of Cupid’s unvoiced questions. Carefully she lowers her fatal weapon, in favour of the brunette’s comfort, not wanting to disturb her any further. Still not fully grasping the reality of the situation just yet.

“Am I not supposed to, Mary? Please don’t tell me I am hallucinating. If that motherfucker actually put ‘shrooms in my brownie I have to -” the brunette screeches while holding up her hand, checking to see if tentacles were growing out of her limbs. Wide eyes flick across her bedroom, tense shoulders relaxing with each passing second as she realizes her vision didn’t show any other abnormalities.

“Wait, no one has actually ever seen me before.” Brooke interrupts the feisty girl, wide eyed and lips fallen agape at the revelation. Fists tightening by her side as her stomach ties herself in knots. The blonde isn’t as invisible as she always claimed to be, not untouchable as the gods had made her out to be.

“You really think you are that special, mami?” The Puerto Rican cocks a perfectly painted eyebrow and clicks her tongue. Her heart still beating fast, wondering when she will wake up from this strange dream.

“Yes - I mean, no - I mean, I shoot arrows at people to make them fall in love, so I guess.” Brooke stumbles over her words, surprised and yet intrigued by the other woman’s sharp tongue, slowly inching closer to her again.

“Okay I am definitely high,” the short woman whispers, or at least as far as a woman with a mowing machine voice can whisper, as she jumps down from her bed and starts pacing around the room, nibbling on the skin around her nails.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, but you are a human who can clearly see me and, - but wait, what if you are not actually a human?” The blonde is still frozen in place, staring down the brunette beauty in front of her, taking in all of her beings, searching for levels of pure perfection. Her slouched shoulders, and messy hair not necessarily screaming immortal.

“Jesus Christ it’s 11 a.m., it’s way too early for this fuckery.” Vanessa sleepily rubs her eyes, prepared to wake up any second, realizing she probably must have overslept. “And to answer your question, I am pretty sure I am human - aren’t you?”

“I am Cupid, the goddess of desire, erotic love attraction and affection - or as I’d like to describe myself ‘the creator of all evil.’” Cupid holds out a hand for the doe-eyed woman to shake.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Mary,” the girl exclaims while throwing her hands in the air and ignoring the pale, outstretched arm of her counterpart.

“No, it’s true. I am Cupid,” Brooke argues, gesturing to her bow and arrow as if her lethal weapon would be the obvious answer - blatantly ignoring the elephant in the room, her large, white ethereal wings.

“Prove it.” The brunette clicks her tongue, even bolder than in her wildest dreams as she points to the now abandoned bow and arrow by Cupid’s side. Still convinced that her other nonhuman features may be just a trick on her mind.

“Wait what - no. I don’t wanna hurt you,” Brooke whispers with a cracking voice, a lump getting caught in the blonde’s throat, choking on nothing as neatly shaped brows furrow together on another wise angelic face. Her chest constricts her lungs as she tries to stay level headed at the woman’s outrageous request, counting to ten to calm her erratic breathing. Tears sting at the corner of her eyes. How could someone even dare to ask to be inflicted with this kind of pain? Hadn’t the girl endured enough? Did Brooke’s sacrifice mean nothing to her?

“Hit me with an arrow, then I might believe you.” Raised brows and a one-sided smirk challenging Brooke. A chuckle bubbles up her throat as she watches Cupid’s face morph into disbelieve.

“But that will just make you upset and-” the godly creature argues again, a shiver running down her spine just at the thought of hurting the woman in front of her for another time. Barely having broken Venus’s golden rules a day ago, just to protect this girl from another heartbreak. Revolted against her mother, broke an arrow in half and ran away. Sparks flew through her bones, weakening her limbs and cutting off her circulation. A spur of the moment decision, just to save a woman who had been through too much pain in her young years.

“Hurry, I don’t have all day, Mary.” Her annoyed voice does not completely match her excited exterior as she slightly bounces on her feet, olive tanned fingertips twirling dark brown curls around them as a cashmere cat grin settles on her lips.

Brooke knows she must do it, needs to prove to herself that she isn’t just the devil in her own imagination. A broken immortal easily persuaded. She needs to be reminded of her cruel nature, needs to be blamed for all the hurt in the world at last. How dare she deny a human to love? Even if it will be their downfall. She can’t protect the human race from her curse, so she may as well play the role of the devil himself.

With steady hands she stretches her blood red arrow across her wooden bow, pointing her weapon towards the small woman stood right in front of her eyes. Blood rushes to her ears as her stomach ties itself in knots, wings reaching high above her lean figure, radiating a godly aura as she can feel an unearthly force urging her body to take the fatal shot. Shaky finger tips let the arrow fly the short distance through the air as Vanessa’s eyes fixate on her mobile phone, just having seen a new message.

“Ouch,” the brunette exclaims, eyes pinched shut as her hand reaches for the arrow stuck in her chest. Her other hand balls into a tight fist as the arrow disappears within her olive tanned hand. Doe eyes gleam with excitement and from her plum painted lips escapes a tiny squeal.

Within a second of the blood red arrow disappearing, thorny roses rank up her chest, filling her lungs with red flower petals. Her vision is tinted with baby pink as her heart starts to shake to the melody of love.

“I told you so,” Brooke replies matter of factly as the brunette lovingly stares at her screen, butterflies probably starting to spread in her stomach that very moment. She knows she shouldn’t have given into the girl’s request, but knowing Venus, she would have had to fulfill it either way.

“Holy shit, you are-” Chocolate eyes stare at grey ones, gleaming full of joy at her newly induced love and Cupid’s revelation, before she shakes her head and clears her mind. “Wait why did you call yourself 'the creator of all evil,’ bitch?” Her face is painted with curiosity as she bites her lower lip, studying Brooke’s unreadable expression.

Brooke Lynn gulps, avoiding her counterpart that watches her every move with a cocked head, as the cold beauty silently curses her nervous rambling just moments ago. Her wings slightly flutter as she takes in her surroundings, occupying her mind with everything else besides the stranger who just took a seat on the floor right in front of her, and rather studies the pictures on the brunette’s bedroom wall. A prom picture, one of a girl’s night out in a bar, a baby picture. A wall painted full of memories, each of them unknown to any stranger, yet strangely familiar to the human by her side.

“Well…” Brooke starts, not ready yet to spill her mind to a complete stranger. Not even used to the idea of speaking to another being.

“Spit it out, Mary!” the girl demands as she crawls a bit closer, grabbing Brooke’s hand and forcing her to sit down beside her so she can study the angelic woman up close, feeling the urge to run a hand through her glowing hair. With a sharp shake of her confused head, she carefully steadies her hand on her hip instead, barely stopping herself from reaching for the blonde.

“Wait, I never even caught your name,” Brooke hurriedly gets up and steps away from her counterpart, too nervous to sit still, and moves closer to the window instead, watching the scenery outside the apartment.

The young girl lifts her perfectly plugged brow at the girl’s reaction, having anticipated a different response. Duly noted the lack of response and dramatically blinks as she lets Cupid’s sidestep slide.

“It’s Vanessa.”

Vanessa, Brooke Lynn whispers the word, lets the name roll of her tongue.

“Brooke. I mean my name is Brooke Lynn, nice to meet you Vanessa.” The woman spins around again, flashing Vanessa an experimental smile.

“So, who even is that guy you were texting earlier?” Brooke trails off, pacing through the room and takes a subtle look at every item littering the room. Stopping to pick up a heart shaped silver necklace on her vanity and carefully eyeing it up close as she lightly strokes a fingertip across the engraved ‘V’, before putting it down. A broken shell of a creature silently condemning the display of affection, knowing the necklace lost its meaning shortly after being gifted to her. Becoming a representation for another lost love.

Apparently the blonde had hit the right nerve with her question and soon after Vanessa begins to ramble about her new love. Grand gestures highlight a sickly sweet tale. Brooke barely contains an eyeroll, yet still lets an annoyed sigh slip every once in a while. Vanessa being in love is all fun and games until it’s not. It’s only a matter of time until she will be reduced to a cocktail of emotions, getting the best of her, combusting one day and resulting in a broken shell.

Brooke never understood love and probably never will. Every aspect of it seems so strange, even completely wrong at times. The co-dependency, heartbreak, obsession and disapproval one has to face. Love seemed to be an empty promise, one that will take the best of you and leave you with the worst you’ve got. So many pieces of shattered hearts Brooke has seen distributed on every inch of the earth. Broken pieces littering mankind. Fleeting moments of happiness not worth the million heartbreaks one individual has to endure - at least in her opinion. But how could she know the truth? Brooke doesn’t even own a heart in the first place. Nothing that could be torn apart or thrown away.

“Wait, hold up, Mami! I don’t wanna talk about shits and berries, spill the tea! I wanna know everything about that cupid shit you’ve got going on!”

In the beginning there was only darkness.

An angelic being born out of the darkness into the light. Her parents two gods. Ice blond baby curls, golden sun rays illuminate her aura, and virgin white regal wings highlight her godly heritage. The daughter of Mars and the third Venus. The youngest of heavenly newborns. A creature embodying the heaviest burden of all.

Her stormy eyes opened and she was alone.

Brooke Lynn is the youngest of the three, yet as much Cupid as her other siblings. Each a different embodiment of love. Each receiving a mission at birth. Yet all of their missions combined designed to keep the scale of humankind steady.

Born at the beginning of time. Abandoned by her parents, only left with a sense of belonging to immortal creatures. Little to no knowledge left with her at birth.

Immortal creatures created to obey their mothers’ rules, to follow nature’s request at keeping humanity alive.

A little child all alone. Burdened with the most horrifying job.

Brooke shakes her clouded head, trying to leave behind the haunting memories of the beginning of her existence. Loneliness and confusion are still deeply rooted in her body, not able to shake off the reminders of her lonely reality. Broken at the lack of knowledge about her own essence. Not knowing her own heritage. How could she share her cruel nature and unknown existence with a complete stranger?

Her head snaps around, taking one last soul searching look at Vanessa and just simply knows deep down that she has to leave. Regal wings carry her towards the dimly lit corridor outside of Vanessa’s apartment, feet nearly out the door, before the brunette catches on.

“Wait! Where the fuck do you think you are going, Mary?” a shocked brunette scrambles to her feet, shouting after Cupid.

Brooke stops in her tracks, not having anticipated such a commotion. Pale fingers run through ice blond waves. “I’ve got to leave Vanessa.”

“Yeah sure, Mami. Stop bullshiting me.” Vanessa voice goes high, while her brows furrow and her lips pull together in an annoyed pout.

“No really, I’ve got a job to fulfill.” Brooke tries to justify her sudden departure, not afraid of lying to her counterpart to avoid uncomfortable situations like the plague.

“Like what?” Her arms cross as the brunette slightly cocks her head, not buying her excuse.

“Make people’s life miserable, I guess,” the icy woman replies without missing a beat and disappears out the door.

Vanessa still stares at the empty doorway minutes after Brooke had already left, before a shiver runs down her spine and pulls her back into reality.

“It’s all just a dream,” the tiny woman mumbles to herself before returning to the safety beneath her bedsheets and drifting into a dreamless slumber

[noramoya]

“The exhibition of art inspired by Michael Jackson continues its tour of Europe, arriving in Bonn – Germany, where it hosted its public premiere on Friday 22nd March 2019 and will reside until 14th July 2019.

Unlike its predecessors in London and Paris, the exhibition throws open its doors during a time of unrest in the world of Michael Jackson, as false allegations continue to penetrate media outlets and twitter feeds around the world. There were indeed doubts as to whether the exhibition would even go ahead, yet it has, and it’s a good job as not only does it bring this fantastic show to Germany, it also stands tall in the face of the accusations – they will not mute Michael Jackson or attempt to erase his influence on the different mediums.

As the third showing, I was keen to see how the team at the Bundeskunsthalle, one of Germany’s most visited museums, would present the works that have now become so familiar, thanks to the welcome recommendations to photograph and share the exhibition across social media and the trip out to Bonn was worth it as we were gifted with a whole new take on the collection.

For the first time, On the Wall has been presented in a way that leads you on a voyage of discovery. As you weave around the different pieces and turn corners, it’s unclear what you’ll be greeted with next, and this gives the show an entirely new dimension. The colour palette is the definition of Jackson’s wardrobe staples – Red, Black, White and Silver, as well as an added touch of sparkles – everything you could want from an exhibition about Michael Jackson and brings a part of the man to the walls which holds works he inspired.

On arrival, visitors are greeted by the now well-recognised piece P.Y.T by Appau Junior Boakye-Yiadom, which features a pair of penny loafers being held up by balloons. The piece stands alone in a tubular structure creating a central point in an otherwise darkened room. The colour of the balloons helps to illuminate the space and shows the signature Jackson pose as a lasting first impression.

Directly behind the structure is one of the new pieces to the Germany offering entitled simply ‘Michael Joseph Jackson’ by artist KAI who produced a visual of a young Jackson at the early stages of his epic records solo career, atop a horse, being lead by other generations of Jackson from the early years to 2009. I was absolutely taken with it. My perception of the piece, created in 2012 was that it represented Jackson at his ‘commercial peak’ riding the horse like a king, with all the other eras of Jackson appearing to be, still well presented but not on the level of the one who sits above them. Of course, different people will form different interpretations and that’s the beauty of this exhibition.

Another new feature to the German incarnation is a statue of Jackson and Bubbles by artist Paul McCarthy, based on another original statue of Jackson and Bubbles by artist Jeff Koons. With an elongated foot, hand and heads, the McCarthy version was created in the late 90s and is supported by its counterpart ‘Green Grey Symmetrical Michael Jackson’ which featured in both London and Paris. It’s domineering presence in the centre of the room means you almost have to stop and take it in.

Also there are the fan favourite – The Dangerous Album Cover, the Brainwash-created piece for the Xscape album, the Jackson-worn Dinner Jacket and two of the Warhol prints – plus a personal favourite of mine – ‘In Memory of Michael Jackson’ by artist Yan Pei Ming.

What was noticeable was how the team at the Bundeskunsthalle have carefully considered what pieces work together and have given each one the correct backdrop and lighting to make it stand out. The Dangerous Album cover stood out more than it had done in London and Paris and gives visitors the chance to really get up close to inspect each and every hidden detail.

The press conference, which I attended, formed part of the preview event on the morning of Thursday 21st March and was unfortunately dominated by the headlines and how the gallery will be handling the fallout in light of the allegations. Rein Wolfs, Director of the Bundeskunsthalle stated clearly that the museum are not lawyers or a jury and are not here to judge or convict Jackson, but will be following the continued discussions surrounding the allegations. Along with Director of the National Portrait Gallery Nicholas Cullinan, who was also in attendance, the panel were affirmative that this was still very much about how Jackson’s influence on the world had been perceived by artists and not a life story, with Cullinan noting that some of the pieces may be perceived differently. Wolfs further stated the museum would be prepared for what may be some challenging commentary and had people on hand who would be willing to engage in discussion around the allegations, as well as open talk on Sunday 7th April to unpack the relationship between the art-and-the-artist (Jackson).

Ultimately, the art on display presents unique perceptions of Jackson who is one of the most explored, discussed, misunderstood and depicted figures of our time. It’s a celebration of yet another strength of his career – to influence an audience he wasn’t intentionally reaching out to.

Michael Jackson: On The Wall will stay in Germany for four months, marking its longest run anywhere on the tour. Thankfully for the Bundeskunsthalle, Jackson fans in Germany are some of the most loyal and their support for the exhibition will no doubt be plentiful.

Despite a somewhat disappointing set up in Paris, that felt both lazy and uninspired, the Bundeskunsthalle had big shoes to fill to live up to the show’s London outing – and it did! Presenting a wonderfully diverse and well thought out exhibition for people from all walks of life to enjoy. If you’re in Germany, I highly recommend a visit for some cultural reflection.

— Pez Jax

Follow Pez on twitter @pezjax

[kendrixtermina]

Thoughts and Feelings about“Change Your Mind”

I really wish I could rewatch this motherfucker somewhere but I have to sleep and go to work 

Well on the one hand the main story lines are pretty much done for, on the other, the fallout alone could fill another season, and I’m actually glad that they’re not relegating that to the epilogue but actually going to show it

I assume season 5 will be Steven working with the Diamonds to improve homeworld, explaining things to Jasper, integrating the former corrupted gems on earth, finding out the deal with pink pearl, further developing Steven’s new fusions etc. 

Other open questions involve gem origins and peridot’s renewable energy project, but I suppose that will come up as Steven tries to make the Empire less... imperialistic. 

I understand why they wanted to air this in one piece, you couldn’t leave the younger viewers hanging with some of these creepytastic scenes and no resolution

There’s various concepts I feel reminded of. 

There’s this idea of “tzimtsum” in kaballalistic thought, about how God created the world - In order to create a being apart from himself, he “hid” some aspects of the being, the ones that would seem - So every part of creation reflects one aspect of god, but none shows the complete pictures of it, and because everything has some aspects of god but not others, it is unique - so all humans are made in gods image, but still be different from each other.  

Maybe Pink Diamond would be something like Lucifer in this analogy, part of the creation but as far from the god as you can get while still existing, and somehow their antithesis (stretching the analogy here, of course Judaism has no counterpart to Lucifer let alone the positive-ish early modernity interpretions of him - but of course, White Diamond isn’t exactly a benevolent God either. )

First of course Star Trek, like the ep where Captain Kirk is split into what at first seems like his good and evil half but is more like his animal instincts and higher reasoning, or in Voyager, when B’Elana Torres is split into her human and Klingon halves. 

I guess Garnet wasn’t completely wrong in his being something in-between fusion and human reproduction, his gem half could be considered A Pink Diamond, but not the same one who created him - He must be fricking powerful to shrug off WD’s beams like that, like how Stevonnie still has “boosted” versions of Steven’s abilities despite Connie being human, Steven’s probably like Pink Diamond, but ‘boosted’.  

Steven’s victory certainly showcases how it comes from both sides of his heritage. It involves making WD laugh/embarassed like what Pink used to do, but unlike her, he has the communication skills from Greg - I don’t think Pink ever talked to Blue in that way, she didn’t seem aware of what the other Diamonds were thinking at all, any more than she really understood Pearl’s lingering knot of complexes. It’s just not a skill she could have picked up before Greg - when? From whom?  

His responsibility is all uniquely him and due to his upbringing with the CG’s and wanting to help him more, tho, both his parents where free spirit hippy bohemians, but it was Steven who decided “Nope, I WANT to fix it, because I can”, not because he owes it to anybody, even when no one could fault him for running. 

Also, Frankenstein (the Novel not the film) - The original Victor was a sympathetic, even admirable character, but somehow he just couldn’t bring himself to have empathy with the monster, though Adam was in many ways alike to him and initially didn’t wish to be his enemy.  Because while the gems relate to White Diamond as their goddess and the other Diamonds see her as their mother, she seems to regard them as extensions of herself. Maybe she would, as their creator. Gods are expected to smile benevolently upon their followers and solve their problems, Mothers, while they are flawed humans,  are supposed to love their kids as they are and realize that they become their own persons, but artists frequently tear up their own work if they’re dissatisfied with it, because it’s supposed to be a reflection of their existence, so they might hate it for not reflecting them well enough - 

i often regret tearing up half my teenage fanfics, but I’m able to view them different now that I’m - Back then, I felt like they reflectzed badly onto me - but if had kids and treated them like my fanfics or crumpled drawings, well, that would scar them for life. 

You could certainly see this as a metaphor for narcissism, particularly in the way WD judged everything by how much it was like her, to the point that she would ‘overwrite`’ ppl’s personalities with her ideas of how it ought to be, while lacking a solid identity of her own apart from being “perfect/the best” by default, but that only goes so far because the gems literally are her creations who take their characteristics from various aspects of her being. 

She’d have a completely different conceptual framework to anyone else, though she’s certainly not “above it” in any way. 

I don’t think she was completely unaffected by Pink’s dissapearence either, if you want to complete the Stages of Grief analogy she would be Denial or Bargaining. Most likely,  she was growing increasingly frustrated with her ability to make her empire “perfect” like she ought to and that’s why she started keeping to herself more and assuming that Pink couldn’t be dead. 

She seemed like the knowing one when she was as much in denial as anyone else - you can tell they had a complicated relationship because of how White saw herself in her, that might be why she indulged and preferred her, but then again she didn’t always like what she saw and felt that Pink represented parts of her that she didn’t want to see. 

It’s not without reason that Steven tells her to “get out of her own head” and try to see the world for what it is rather than her preconceived notions of what it is or means. You could perhaps relate that to 

When she realizes that she’s actually dead - that’s when she has her breakdown. 

You could even draw a parallel to “Romeo And Juliet”, where the older generation only realizes how much its ways were fucked up when it gets their beloved children killed for just trying to live happy lives. 

Cal Gustav Jung would certainly remind us that what irritates us about others are often things that irritate us about ourselves, that we may be liable to “see the world as we are” and never is that more apparent than when we view everything through some skewed belief system, or when we hate - people hate people who blur boundaries because they don’t want to confront the ambiguity within themselves, or act as “superior” and merciless because they’ve rejected their own mortal fragile humanity.

Another observation is that when you set up anything as the “default” you create pressure not to deviate from the norm and prevent its members from experiencing their individuality. (see societal pressure on heterosexual men, or Euro-Americans saying they ‘have no culture to celebrate’ - maybe instead of becoming a devouring plague upon your fellow men, you could actually appreciate European culture? Like, read some books, eat some cheese, learn a language, listen to some classical music, vote for worker protection laws?)

It speaks for PD that she even tried to save other aliens at some point. steven stepped completely out of her shadow the moment he was able to feel sorry for her, like “Geez, she had to live like that? No wonder she turned out the way she did!” he pretty much calls the other Diamonds out at some point, like he gets a secure sense of the differences between them when he realizes how much better off he’s been in his own life. Like, UGH. 

For my part, I don’t believe the “best of the worst” thing was true, and more of an “evil cannot comprehend good” moment from White, if not outright projection. (after all, White seems to view all other Gems as imperfect copies of herself) If anything, Pink seemed upset that she got stuck being the leader even as “Rose Quartz” (see the Beach scene in “Greg the babysitter”) - but of course Steven, not being Pink, wouldn’t know whether or not White is right. 

Other Thoughts:

In the earlier scenes you could see a lot of parallels to less than ideal family situations, and how people might end up acting as proxies of the problematic person, almost sprouting their words, in the name of keeping the peace, and how people in such an environment may have no idea of how it’s not normal

You CAN talk down such a person (I know of multiple people who made a bona fide job out of talking sense into literal nazis and clansmen, person by person - their tactic was generally to find whatever problem their rage came from), but there’s a difference between “flawed” and “awful” and I do think it came through that White is a piece of work quite unlike, say, Connie’s mother, and that Steven’s dealing with her because he wants to for the good of society, because he’s the bigger person and secure in himself,  not because he owes it to her or anything

It seems like they went for “awesome” rather than “beautiful” with Steven’s fusions. The designs are kinda gaudy, but even so, once you getpast the gaudy design, it’s kind of touching how Steven’s and Garnet’s fusion is essentially a motivational speaker who sprouts encouraging advice nonstop. Garnet was always Steven’s Mentor and  as well as the main person (besides greg) to teach him morals, as well as generally encouraging & supportive, but Steven of course encourages and supports her too, and both like doing that for others

I love Peridot’s short shorts and that she and Bismuth repaired the ships/ went a-tinkering together. It took me a bit to notice that it’s supposed to be shorts and not just her old outfit with starts instead tho

Voice of Reason!Connieis a gift that keeps on giving

[insomniasix]

The Lady.

Ok, so since I started making my old fics FFXV related, I’ve decided to make all of them as such. I’ll add them to a Masterlist of their own later on. 

This is a piece I created for a competition and I thought it fit perfectly for @nemo-ne-impune-lacessit ‘s Evita Hemlock and Ignis. So I did something with that. 

Some might’ve already read it before (It’s been uploaded before) but I finally fixed some of my own mistakes and added a few more FFXV lines and events in it. 

Words: 2782 | Characters: Evita Hemlock , Six Ulric , Ignis Scientia | Trigger Warnings: Death, Fire, Injury and some more death along the way.

Thank you for taking the time to read! I hope you like it!

“Tell me a little about yourself.” The man with the dirty-blond hair asked.

He’s from Insomnia. Evita was certain because of his accent. Born and raised. You don’t really see psychologist from Insomnia. After the fall, there was only one other she’d come across. Ignis seemed to know a few things though.

Her molten gold eyes kept wondering behind him, following the patterns of the dark green. Under different circumstances, Evita would be mesmerized by his incredible features. A face build by perfect carves and lines, no scars or wrinkles; and those eyes, emerald green and filled with compassion and love, even for the people he didn’t know. Like her.

She wondered for a second. Could a person really carry on with such feelings? Or is it simply part of his job?

She didn’t care about it. She didn’t care about anything anymore!

In any other time, she and her sister, Six, would be rendered speechless under the gaze of such a man.

“He’s the man of your dreams, isn’t he?” she heard her sister’s stern voice.

She’d thought about it a couple of times; a man worthy of her own beauty.

Evita was a young lady, she was to turn twenty on the next week; she didn’t care about that either.

Tall, olive skinned, with golden almond-shaped eyes and coper colored, short, messy hair. Her black streak always being her trademark.

She looked a lot like her mother. Or so she remembered.

She didn’t have time for romance.

Evita and Six grew up alone. They were orphaned at a young age when the apartment they all lived in caught on fire. The flames taking mommy and daddy with them.

That wasn’t the reason she’d decided to visit the psychologist, though. The reason was… a dream!

“Evie?” she heard his calm voice ring inside her ears. It felt like an invisible hand, caressing her away from her dark thoughts, away from the wall her eyes kept staring at; leading her straight to his soft lips.

She wanted to listen to him, hear his advice. Take it, so she could save herself. Or so she thought.

“Daydreaming?” he blessed her with a soft smile.

“There’s no reason to dream anymore.” The words fell from her lips like whisper. She didn’t want the world to listen. The world she’d come to know, was cruel, judging, painful. There was no place in it for her. “The world doesn’t give you a reason to dream.”

“How about life?” the young man asked again, mesmerized by her way of thinking; by the darkness that surrounded her.

“Life is just a game, doc.” She smiled a bitter smile.

“Please, call me Ignis. Would you care to elaborate on that notion? Is life a game for you?” it was incredible, there was nothing but compassion in his voice. No hate, no fear, no dread towards her, her words, her idea of the world.

That was… new.

“Not just for me. For everyone. It’s just a pointless, stupid game, that someone, somewhere came up with. A game where all of us are bound to play by someone else’s rules. Forced to do whatever others tell us. Unable to leave whenever we want; just whenever they get bored of us. When they’ve had enough. We all have our own daemons, but…” she took a few seconds to blink the hot tears away from her eyes, rearranging her thoughts as her eyes darkened “ you can get out of it if she blesses you. If she accepts to put you out of this misery we’ve learned to call life. It’s not always a blessing though. Sometimes, it’s the exact opposite.”

“Who is she?”

Evita smiled wearily “Lady Death. The forbidden child of Shiva and Ifrit. The cursed child; abandoned by the Six Astrals and the world beyond.”

Ignis wrote something on his notebook “So you wish to tell me, Death… is a female figure.”

“Isn’t every wrong thing in the world a female figure?” she smirked “The Original Sin: Eos, Shiva, Leviathan; everything began with them.”

“I am curious,” Ignis continued after nodding at her chain of thought “this… Lady Death, tell me about her. Explain to me, how do you picture her?”

Evita’s look was dead serious the second the words left his lips “I don’t picture her, Iggy.” Her voice strong and low “She’s not a fragment of my imagination. I’ve seen her.”

Ignis’ heart skipped a beat at her words, a certain uneasiness taking its hold on him. He fixed his glasses before continuing “The dream for which you came to me.”

“Not exactly.” She breathed, her eyes falling upon the texture on the wall once more “See, it wasn’t a dream.” She explained what the Lady was for her “A tall figure, young face, a thin yet strong presence. Long dark hair, hugging her body like a vail; and her eyes… milky white and screaming chaos! Spreading terror as they fascinate any soul that dares to look at them. She always wears a long dark tunic, taking extra care not to hide her beautify terrifying face. On her right hand, a scythe, even more monumental than her own form, a shiny blade under which countless souls have fallen! That’s how she answers your song, when you call for her. Her face,” Evita let out a heartening sigh and a shiver run down Ignis’ spine as his blood had started to freeze. He didn’t know why, but something in her words, in the meaning of them, seemed so alive, so real; like he could almost see her, standing by her side “her face is so sad. She doesn’t like what she’s doing. Though, there’s no other way, she, herself, is just another pawn of the Astrals.”

“Stop telling him everything! He doesn’t need to know.” She heard her sister’s voice once again. Six was there, whispering in her ears.

Evita stopped talking.

“Can anyone call for her?” Ignis asked. He was so absorbed by her, he hadn’t written anything down in his notebook. Thinking back on that little detail, he smiled to himself for having pressed the recording button.

Evita didn’t answer. She was waiting for Six’s blessing to do so. The latter didn’t speak. She just walked around the room a little longer. Her silver eyes falling on every single picture and frame the doctor had, hanging on the rooms walls. Pictures of his trip with his friends.

“You can tell me.” Ignis smiled “I don’t plan on calling her anytime soon.”

Evita’s eyes fell on Six’s figure, right behind him, leaning against the dark green wall with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Tell him then. I’m not sure Her Highness will be more bothered than I am.”

Evita opened her mouth, as if to say something but closed it right away. She took a small breath, trying to pick the right words “Have you heard of the Swan Song?”

“Yes.” Ignis answered, filled with interest and need for knowledge “Swans sing before they die.”

“That’s just what humans do as well. A little before we die, we let out a soundless scream of sorrow and regret. To her ears, that scream takes the form of a song. A summoning spell.”

“How is it that you have seen her, then?” Ignis thought about her words “You’re still here.”

“It all started when my parents died. I was twelve years old and my sister was fifteen. Our apartment caught on fire because my mother forgot that damn cigarette before dad threw it away.” Six let out a huffed laugh at the thought of one thing leading to another. “It all happened so fast; I can’t recall how fast the fire spread along the house. I just remember… Her! She came for mommy and daddy. She came for me! She lowered herself above me, like a mother, tucking her beloved child in bed before sleep. She whispered how it wasn’t my time, but we were to meet again. She moved so quickly, yet I, like the little child I was, followed. I needed to see; I needed to know what she was doing. Who she was.” She took a breath in, eyes wondering, following her sister’s moving figure; falling on the mesmerized eyes of her listener “They sang for her! I could hear their call. She lowered herself over them, like she’d done for me and; I couldn’t understand why but… she cried for them. It was only a single, heavy tear. When it fell and touched their foreheads, they went silent.”

Ignis was nailed in place. Unable to move, like her words were hands, keeping him down in his seat. Everything he heard, so real. Like he was the one to live through it. Like it was his parents, leaving their last breath in the arms of the dark-dressed woman. Images bombarding his mind; the apartment, the fire, the Lady in black, the shaking of fear and the smell of dread.

“And then,” Evita continued “She opened her ripped black wings and the room went dark.” She mimicked the movement a bird makes when it flatters it’s wings “I woke up in my sister’s arms the next morning. Six never spoke about it, but she’d seen her too. I know. I could see it in her eyes.”

“So tell me, Ignis.” she ordered after a few seconds of silence, her eyes glued to his “How can two kids, who had never felt pain or misery in their lives, dream about such horrid things? How can all this be but a dream? Let me tell you.” she smiled “It’s just another rule. What one cannot understand, must be just a bad dream. ‘Childish Imagination’ the previous doctor called it. ‘A teenager’s dark subconscious’. Six and I know better than that.”

“Talk to me about your sister.” Ignis tried changing the subject, get her mind working on something else “Did she treat you right? Were you happy with her?”

“He’s pushing it.” Six roared, behind gritted teeth. Getting very close to his face while he just sat there, not even flinching; not paying any attention to anything but Evita.

“You’re pushing it, doc.” Evita’s eyes moved from her sister to him “We’re here because of the ‘dream’; not my sister.”

“I’m just trying to understand, Evie. Help me put the pieces together.”

“He’s either very good at his job, or a complete idiot!” Six breathed, raising her eyebrow at him. This time she was sitting in the chair behind him, her intense look not once leaving his figure.

“What should I help you understand?” Evita asked, not paying attention to her sister’s words.

“What brings you here.”

Evita brought Six back to the center of attention, despite her sister’s protests “My sister, Six, is my guardian angel.”

“Is?” Ignis noticed “I thought…”

“You thought right.” Evita cut him off “My sister is dead!”

“We always carry the thought of the ones we lost.” Ignis quoted, fixing his glasses at the bridge of his nose. “Would you tell me how it happened?”

“She was murdered.”

Evita took her time to collect her thoughts while Ignis waited for more information. He pushed her, with his own kind way, so her mind could think of the details, get everything he could out of her. He really wanted to help her move on.

Ignis made a notion with his hand and she continued.

“Her song was beautiful! It was the second time I saw Her. It was a rainy day, back in Insomnia. We hadn’t been back for a year. She went inside the Citadel while I waited with a couple of friends, she had a duty to fulfil. A few moments later, I heard her song and a tear fell down my face. See, the Chancellor of Niflheim was there. He had it out for her ever since she uncovered his plans for the Peace Signing.” Evita looked at the celling, taking a moment for the hot tears to dry out. “And well, here we are.”

“We?” Ignis found himself surprised by her choice of words once again “There’s none other here but you, Evie.”

Evita tilted her head to the side, looking at him with wonder in her eyes “You’re wrong, Ignis.” she said “There’re four of us in this room.”

The blood inside his veins froze solid, terror spreading all over his body. The vision of the young lady he had in front him had changed in an instant. The sweet, innocent version had become cold, like a porcelain doll.

It was only then that he noticed the wounds, scratches and bruises all over her face, neck, arms and legs. There was one, in particular, he got terrified upon noticing. A big wound on her eye! How? When? Why was he noticing them just now?

“What are you saying, Evie?” his voice broke, fear taking the better of him as it consumed his heart and mind.

“You still can’t see her?” Evita smiled a sad smile “She’s right there!” she pointed at the leather couch next to the office’s door.

Ignis’ gaze followed her delicate finger. His eyes instantly falling upon her.

The tall girl with the vail of raven hair and eyes grey as a winter’s cloud. She was dressed in white, just like Evita and she was also covered in wounds and scratches. Ignis’ eyes fell upon the left side of her entire body –the parts he could see anyway. It seemed as if it was still burning. How was that possible? The wound seemed to start at the middle of her cheek, running down to her fingers and toes.

“Hey, Iggy!” Six waved with a smile when he’d finally realized she was actually there as well.

“Who are you?” Ignis raised from his seat “How did you get in here?”

“Get –“ Six sighed while rolling her eyes “I was here from the start. You were just not ready to see us.”

“See… you?” he was starting to lose it, he was sure of it “Evita, what –“

When his eyes fell upon her, Evita’s dress was covered in blood, seemingly running down from the wound on her eye. He run to her side, wanting to help her; but she just stared at his direction, her golden eyes now milky white and her face… nothing like he was expecting.

Ignis expected to come across something. Pain, agony. The only emotion she showed was… regret.

That’s when he remembered.

“Lady Death.” He whispered, feeling his heart ready to burst out.

“Can you see her now?” She asked.

“I…” he’s voice broke at the emotions bombarding his mind “This can’t be happening.” He fell on his knees in front of her.

“It’s all just a dream.” Evita caressed his cheek while she explained as he leaned into her touch “Your way of avoiding the pain. All the stories you heard from me; all yours. The fire, that took your parents when Niflheim attacked Insomnia. The ‘murder’ of your ‘brother’, Noctis. All yours! Your very own Swan Song.”

Ignis’ eyes where filled with agony when he looked at her again “Who are you?”

“I am a Reaper.” She smiled wearily “I’m here to remind you of who you truly are.”

Ignis burst out in tears at her words, realizing it was his time. That this was real.

“Your song is the most beautiful tone I’ve ever heard!” Evita breathed “You truly do not want to die!”

“But you must come with us.” Six stepped in, voice stern and yet breaking for him “Accept the end.”

And then, amongst the pain, the fear and the agony that ripped his heart apart, Ignis saw her standing in the corner, near the exit door.

A dark, shapeless figure; moving closer with every passing second. A single ray of light running along the blade of her scythe.

“My Lady.” He managed to say in between his shallow breaths her sad gaze caused.

‘She doesn’t like what she’s doing.’ He heard Evita’s words in his mind again ‘She’s just another pawn of the Astrals!’

“She’s not here for us, Ignis.” the sisters said in unison, their merged voice caressing his ears like a song “She’s here for you.”

Ignis looked at her through his eyelashes, coming across her haunting, void eyes. She bowed above him and shed a single tear. Suddenly, all the feelings he felt were gone. Pain had become peace, sorrow had become bliss.

It was all over.

But he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore!

Lady Death stretched her black, ripped wings and darkness fell over the room.

“Death,” she whispered in a haunting screech “is only the beginning.”

Tagging: @nemo-ne-impune-lacessit @mzargentum @nykamito @thedragontamerying @fieryfantasy @ladye11e @glacian-apocalypse @asonataspassions (If you want to be added or removed please let me know! Thank you again!)

[book-coverage]

Book Covers (Are an Act of Trust)

An Interview With Lisa Perrin by Christine H. Lee

We write our books alone. We have control over our words and our narrative. And then someday, it gets published. And then we have little say over how our work is represented. It’s a nerve-wracking thing. You as a writer have had agency over the content of your work. Every word—likely even the title.

But starting with the cover, you learn that the book is in the hands of others and that you have to let go. When it comes to book covers, writers are asked to step back and accept what’s created on their behalf. There’s little input on image, on font choice and size, or colors; in the end, writers may have limited veto power. The reality being: how many times can you veto politely?

There are wonderful covers out there. And there are missteps too. (Consider Japanese fans on the cover of a book written about and by someone Chinese). Bottomline: there is risk in putting trust in others.

I was lucky to have had Lisa Perrin illustrate the cover of Tell Me Everything You Don’t Remember—Lisa illustrated my BuzzFeed essay off which my memoir was based. She “got it” and of course I befriended her. I had to know the person behind the art and the person who, I am convinced, helped elevate my essay to become so widely consumed. Again: I am so lucky.

I wanted to share a little bit of the process behind book covers with you. I interviewed Lisa long ago, well before the pandemic, with the intention of publishing her words in this newsletter. My apologies if some of this is a bit dated. But truly, her perspective on book covert art is heartening—because she is a fellow artist, too, with great empathy for the creative process. With book covers, we are putting our faith in someone else toto take what we have created and put it into an image. But they too are artists.

And I hope what she says enlightens you too. Lisa Perrin’s art is amazing—and while I knew her from my work at BuzzFeed, she has an amazing portfolio of illustrations. She’s illustrated greeting cards for American Greetings, for Macy’s, and book covers for publishing houses. She teaches at her alma mater, Maryland Institute College of Art (and often assigns her students book covers for assessment!). Her work is vivid and inventive—and filled with energetic movement. Truly beautiful imagery that keeps your eye moving. It’s no wonder she’s become popular as a book cover illustrator. And when you read her interview, you’ll also understand the care she takes with how she interprets the writer’s vision.

In this time when trust feels fragile—it’s good to know there are to trust with your words. Thank you, Lisa.

Here’s the interview.

——-

Christine Lee: Part of my intention is to put a spotlight on book cover artists--and the process of book cover art from the illustrator’s perspective. You’ve been such a crucial partner to my work--and I’d love to learn a bit more of what you do--and hopefully publish to my readership.

Lisa Perrin: Hi Christine, thank you for your patience! I hope you are well. I appreciate that you wanted to interview me! :)

CL: Hi Lisa. For so many writers, the accompanying artwork is something to which we aren’t privy in the publishing process. We largely don’t pick the artwork accompanying our published essays or stories--and we definitely don’t have much insight into book cover design. So I appreciate you taking the time to open up what is a black box to us all. For starters--what is the title of your role? And what exactly is it you’re responsible for in delivering book cover art?

LP: I am delighted to talk about and demystify the process! I am an illustrator. I create visual art for many different types of clients, such as editorial, advertising, and surface design, but book covers have become the majority of my work. I think I have done about thirty book covers in the past six years! In the end, I deliver a layered Adobe Photoshop file with the custom-made artwork I’ve created. I am also a hand lettering artist and often hand letter the book’s title.

CL: How did you find your way to designing book covers? You were a working artist prior to working on book covers. Was this a pre-designated goal of yours? Are there any ways in which your work illustrating cards for American Greetings informs your book cover art?

LP: Creative career paths are rarely linear. In college I double majored in English and fine art painting. I think I have always been drawn to vehicles for story telling. I am also a lifelong fan of theater. My first job in high school was reshelving books in the local public library. Picture books often have an “about the illustrator” biography on the back flap of the dust jacket, and I would always flip to that as I was reshelving. I didn’t know anyone who was a professional artist or how to become one. I resolved to go back to school to earn a master’s degree in Illustration at the Maryland Institute College of Art. The program really helped me understand this industry, learn new digital tools for art making, and develop a portfolio.

Shortly after graduating with my MFA, I was hired to be an in-house illustrator for the American Greetings card company. Even though I was working full time, I actively sought out many freelance illustration projects. My time at AG was an invaluable learning experience. While I was there I was able to take lettering classes every week with a master calligrapher. I believe that being an artist who could do both the illustrations and hand lettering gave me an advantage in jobs where words and pictures mingle.

I cannot say that I set out specifically to become a book cover illustrator or a greeting card artist. I had a passion for design and a compulsion for drawing. I just want to put things that I think are beautiful in the world. I think all of these experiences have informed my current work. I often say that book covers are just posters for books. A poster is a classic illustration assignment. You have to convey the information clearly and aesthetically in a way that appeals to the right audience. You need to consider style, tone, and mood, as well as the hierarchy of information, conveying the most important things first. The artist tells you where to look and guides your eye around an image. I enjoy having my work be a part of our visual culture!

CL: Can you describe the process of designing/illustrating a book cover? How much do you know about a book as you make the art? What is your approach to deciding and envisioning what will be the image for the book?

LP: Typically the process begins when the designer at the publishing house reaches out to me or my agent to gauge my interest in the project and my availability. From there I usually receive a brief and a synopsis of the story. Sometimes I am sent a full manuscript. They may include a piece of artwork I previously made as reference, suggesting that they want something similar. They may list some other books that are cut from the same cloth as this one stylistically to help guide me as well. I usually ask a lot of questions at this point as I try to understand what the designer is looking for. There are many people who are part of this process, such as the design team, the editor, the author, and the sales and marketing team. There are projects where they know exactly what they want and other times its more about exploration and finding just the right note.

I usually get about two weeks for sketches. I try to incorporate anything specific that was requested, as well as include some other options as well. I typically send about four sketches. Next, I will get feedback on those sketches to change or revise certain elements. This part of the process can go on for weeks or months. Sometimes we will change course at this time if its not working. Once the sketch has been approved I send in color studies which are rough drafts of what the colors may look like. Once that has been approved, I can then begin to make my final art.

CL: Do you consider the reader or the writer most?

LP: I personally always think about the author when I’m designing. I only have this project for a few months, but for them it’s their baby that they have spent years on. I want the cover to be something that feels like the right home for something they care about so much. People do indeed judge books by their covers, and a dynamic and compelling cover can really help bolster interest and sales.

CL: If you could ever be in touch with the writer as you create your art, is there something you would say? Or do you feel it’s best when writers and illustrators are silo’d (as they currently are)"?

LP: This is a great and really interesting question. My understanding is that authors and illustrators are intentionally kept apart during this process. The author is so close to their work that it can be challenging to see it interpreted in other ways. The publishing house has experience with design and marketing for book covers and know industry trends and so on. I would love to have more contact with the author and hear what they envision and potentially incorporate that.

CL: If you could make the book cover for any book--classic or contemporary--what book would that be? And why?

LP: I have so many dream projects! So far I have only worked on covers for contemporary novels, but I would absolutely love to create covers for some great literary classics. I think a fresh or modern cover has the power to help revitalize and reignite reader’s love for those classic works. I’d be thrilled to make covers for some of Shakespeare’s plays, or Edgar Allan Poe’s dark mysterious stories. I would love to do a series celebrating great women authors! I also love folk and fairy tales, so that would be a very fun project as well!

I am fortunate to be a professor of Illustration at my alma mater and assigning book covers is one of my favorite projects.

[msmarshmallowmadness]

Miraculous Mariposa & Fenrir Frost

Chapter 1.1 Sculpt man Paris the Capital of France, people had said its fashion capital of the world with fascinated history, beauty, and art. And of course it’s the city of love, but if you look closely you will find out that there is more to Paris that meets the eye. It was a lovely afternoon; the sky was painted into a beautiful shade of orange and pink as the sun began to set and the people who reside in this city did their usual routine like they do every day. On this afternoon on a small building a young girl was in her room checking something on her computer, she had short brunette hair, spring green eyes, a heart shape face and light freckles around her nose. She was wearing a black shirt with short sleeves that had pink flowers on it, a brown belt around her waist and a skirt mixed with pink & purple that reach 3 inch above her knees, and a jean purple vest. She was wearing black flats and she also wore black circle earrings. Her name was Rapunzel Sonne, only child to Frederick Sonne and Arianna Sonne. They are a family of three living a simple life in Paris, and they own a Jewelry shop name Corona that’s right below their home. “That one looks lovely” said Rapunzel as she was looking at different websites of designer clothes, shoes, hat, etc. She saved some picture in her computer and drew a few sketches for her ideas in her sketchbook “This will definitely be a great color for a dress. But will it look good with or without a belt?” Rapunzel then felt something on her left shoulder; she looked and saw that it was a small fuchsia pink creature with a large head, a tiny body, and green eyes. She resembles a butterfly, with two antennae, and a pair of wings. She also had a flower mark on her forehead and a mark below her right eye. “Any design that you can come up with Rapunzel will definitely look beautiful, even with a belt” spoke the creature with a female voice that sounded small and cute. Rapunzel smiled at the cute creature “Thanks Jia” she then sees an add video that starts playing automatically. The video was showing an Art Competition in a museum that was being held in the city “Oh I forgot that the Art competition was today” Rapunzel watched the video as it showed different pieces of art from the many contestants who entered “Wow their really good” she praised. “Why didn’t you enter Rapunzel?” Jia asked as she flies towards the screen of the computer getting a better look “I’m sure you would have won first place” “I was too late to register” answered Rapunzel then made playful smile “Besides I got too many things in my life to juggle and you know it” “If you can handle fighting evil villains during the day and at night, an art competition will only be a walk in the park” giggled Jia. Suddenly the two girls heard a knock and they both look with wide eyes at the door that was on the floor that leads to downstairs where the living room is. “Jia! Hide!” whispered Rapunzel in a panic tone. Jia nodded and hid herself in Rapunzel’s light blue purse. Rapunzel got up and opened the door, and was surprise to see who it was “Merida?” Merida Dunbroch was Rapunzel’s best friend she had wild curly red hair that looks like it hasn’t been brush, sky blue eyes and a dust of freckles across her face. She was wearing a dark teal short sleeve shirt, pale blue jeans, a checkered jacket around her waist and brown combat boots. Merida climbs up into Rapunzel’s room and grabs her cellphone from her pocket “Before ye ask why A’m here at this hour. Ah got some exciting news for ye” she says in a thick Scottish accent. “What is it?” Rapunzel asked. “Guess who’s gonnae watch the premiaur movie of ‘Captain America: Civil War’ tonight?” Announce Merida as she shows on her cell a picture of her best friend’s crush sitting on a bench at the park. Rapunzel grabs the phone from Merida’s hand and looks at the picture as if it was a rare treasure “Jack? He’s going? Really?!” “Yep” said Merida crossing her arms. “But how do you know?” wondered Rapunzel. “While Ah was daein’ some food shopping for my mum. Ah happened to overhear a certain auburn freckled wee laddie talkin’ on the phone with Jack about going the movies tonight” answered Merida with a cocky smile “And Ah took that picture right at the park whaur they will meet up” “Really?” asked Rapunzel. “Yep an’ we are gonnae with them” replied Merida. “What?!” yelps Rapunzel “N-No way! What would I say to him?!” “Oh yoo’ll be fine. Just say what ye always say” said Merida then began to imitated her “A-Ah uh! Blah, eh? Eek!” Rapunzel gave a small laughed and shoved Merida playfully “Haha very funny” but her best friend wasn’t wrong. Every time Rapunzel sees her crush or she’s near him she always acts like a nervous wreck around him, she could barely talk in a perfect sentence without her mouth getting tongued tied. “Now come on, if we dornt go we might miss them” urged Merida. “What?! Right now! But umm do I look okay?” asked Rapunzel as she look at herself then checked herself in her mirror “Should I change clothes? Or should I wear a something on my hair?” “Ye look fine” told Merida but then she sees her best friend going over to her closet. “Maybe a sweater would look nice? Or how about a headband or a pin?” spoke Rapunzel as she tossed out everything she had in her closet. Merida rolled her eyes and walked towards her “Come on” she grabbed Rapunzel by her arm and dragged her to the door. “Okay! Okay just let me grab my purse!” said Rapunzel freeing herself from Merida’s grip and grabbed her purse and place it on her shoulder. “Ready?” “Ready” “Then off we go!” exclaimed Merida “Let’s go!” smiled Rapunzel. ~0~ The Art competition has begun and a lot of people came to watch the different kinds of Art that was being display. There were Canvases, Sculpture of clay and objects, all you can think of were all over the place. As it progress the Judges were seeing the many art pieces that the constantans had made. As they got to the Sculptures section the three Judges were intrigue by two clay sculptures, the first was a sculpture of a Lion and the second was a sculpture of an Angel woman. The two contestants who created the pieces of art were Darryl Lottsman and John Henderson. Darryl Lottsman made the Lion sculpture; he had browned hair and eyes, he was wearing a red shirt with a jean jacket over it and black pants. His sculpture showed that he did his best to almost make it look like a real lion, with the amazing detail he did of the lion’s mane that was big and had every strand of hair. The paws were great and the claws too. He made his lion to pose like it was roaring with its mouth wide opened showing off its fierce teeth and well detail inside of the mouth. John Henderson made the Angel woman sculpture; he had short blonde curly hair and hazel eyes, he was wearing a light green shirt with long sleeves, and blue pants. The angel he made looked beautiful; she had long hair and had a flower crown on her head. She was naked but didn’t expose any privet parts, and you could also tell that he worked very hard on her wings to look like real feathers. He made her pose to look like she was praying; her hands were claps together and were close to her chest to cover her breast. She was kneeling so they wouldn’t see her lower part and look up at the sky to the one she is praying to. The Judges observed both sculptures and were impressed that both of the artist did a great job with the detail that they presented. As the judges walked away and discussed with each other about the many art pieces they witness, both boys had the same hopeful look on their faces, that one of them will win the sculptor trophy. ~0~ In a secret location that no one knows about, a tall man walks in a dark room and then with his fingers he made a snap sound and it cause a window to open. The glass window had a design of a dragonfly and it brought the only light to fill the whole room, and in this room were a swarm of white Dragonflies flying all over the place. The man reaches his hand out and a dragonfly landed in his palm, with his other hand he places it on top trapping the dragonfly in his hands. Then a dark energy forms in his hands and when he removed his hand the dragonfly that was once pure white was now black with purple highlights. “Go out and find me another victim, my little akuma” whispered the man with a dark voice. Then the Akuma flied out of the room through the glass window and it began flying around the City of Paris to look for its next target. ~0~ Merida and Rapunzel were at the park and they were hiding behind a tree while looking at the boy that Rapunzel has a huge crush on sitting by the fountain. He had brown hair, light skin tone, and beautiful deep blue eyes. He was wearing a white shirt with a black snowflake design in the middle, he wore a blue hoodie over his shirt but had no sleeves. His pants were brown and skinny and he had blue sneakers. He also had an eye brow piercing on his right side that made him look cool and a black ring on his left hand. His name is Jackson Overland Black but his friends and classmates call him Jack. He is a model and the son of the famous fashion designer Pitch Black who is well known through all of France. Rapunzel couldn’t help but make a dreamy sigh as she looked at him. Jack was looking at his cellphone to check the time as he was patiently waiting for his friend to show up. “Okay we are going to just pass by and pretend to bump into them” spoke Rapunzel instructing their plan to greet the boys. “Then what?” asked Merida. “Then we'll go to the movies together! I’ll sit next to him and we’ll accidently touch each other’s hands as we reach for the popcorn. Then we’ll look deep into each other eyes and we’ll share our kiss under the darkness of the theater and then be boyfriend and girlfriend and in the future we’ll get married and live happily ever after!” express Rapunzel enthusiastically as she made a far off look on imagining the whole thing. Merida made a sigh at her best friend’s imagination “Let’s go and pass by and then we’ll see if we can make it to the sittin’ next to each other” Rapunzel snapped out of her day dream and gave a small laugh “Sorry” Both girls’ notice a boy approach Jack and it was none other than his best friend Hiccup Haddock. He had auburn hair, forest green eyes, and freckles on his face. He was wearing a shirt that was black at the top and red at the bottom with a white skull with horns as a logo. He also wore a long sleeve green shirt under his t-shirt, black pants and convers. Both girl’s see the two boys talking and began to take action by walking pass them. Merida was acting normal but Rapunzel not so much. “Act normal, act normal, act normal” repeated Rapunzel over and over again while walking like a robot. Merida rolled her eyes and notices that neither Jack nor Hiccup realize they were walking by them “We might as well be ghost” Rapunzel notice what her best friend meant, seeing that the boys haven’t even seen them “Uh then let’s try again” suggested Rapunzel but when she turned around she faced the wrong way and got herself hit by a tree “Oww” Before she could fall Merida quickly catches her and got Rapunzel on her feet “T-Thanks Merida” she said while rubbing her forehead to sued the pain. “Don’t thank me just yet” told Merida as she looked to her left. Rapunzel looked to where Merida was looking and saw that Jack and Hiccup had notice them. Rapunzel’s eyes went wide and her face began to blush, part of her really hope that Jack didn’t see her walk into the tree. She gave a nervous smile and waved at him and to her surprise Jack smiled and waved back. “Merida! Merida! He’s waving at me!” squealed Rapunzel. “Duh! Who wooldn’t wave at someone who’s in the same class?” asked Merida sarcastically, she saw that Rapunzel was still smiling and waving. Merida rolled her eyes and grabbed Rapunzel by the wrist and started walking towards the boys. Rapunzel tried to pull away not feeling brave enough to talk to Jack but Merida kept a firm grip on her so she wouldn’t escape. “Hey guys!” greeted Merida as she let go of Rapunzel wrist. “Hi” said Hiccup. “Hey” said Jack. Rapunzel was too nervous to say anything that she merely smile and waved. Merida made a sigh and slap her hand down and decided to do all the talking. "So what are you girls doing?" Jack asked with a smile. "Nothin’ much, just decided to take a walk aroond the park an’ then going to the movies afterwards" Merida said casually. Rapunzel merely nodded in response finding it difficult to even speak. "Really? Me and Jack were actually planning on going to the movies later as well" Hiccup said enthusiastically. "Really now? Weel dae ye guys mind if we tag alang? Ye know since we’re all going to the movies anyway" Merida asked looking at Rapunzel from the corner of her eyes with mischief. Rapunzel made a silent gulp then looked at Jack as he looked at Hiccup as if asking if it was alright for them to tag along. Rapunzel began to worry and use her index finger to twirl her short hair a habit that she does whenever she’s nervous ‘Oh no I knew this would be a dumb idea. He's so going to say no, and wonder why we would even ask him and his friend to hang out with them. He probably already had plans to hang out with some other prettier girls. Gosh I hate that I thought this would work’ "Rapunzel?" Rapunzel was snap out of her thoughts when she heard Merida calling her "Ahh! Uh err yes?!" she responded in shock. That's when she saw Jack and Hiccup looking at her with a surprise look and then start laughing which made her more confused than ever. "Uh what?" Rapunzel asked a bit shyly looking at Merida for help in which she got a sigh from her friend. "We were wondering if you were okay with hanging out with us. Since we don’t mind you girls tagging along" Jack said trying to stop himself from chuckling. "U-Us? Wait you? I mean you want us to hang out with you guys?!" Rapunzel couldn’t help herself from blurting out the question. "Ha ha of course, were all classmates here aren't we?" Jack chuckled. As soon as she heard it right Rapunzel couldn't help herself from blushing, she used her hands to hide her extremely red face from being seen. She then notices Merida trying to suppress a smirk from forming on her face. Rapunzel pouted before sticking her tongue out at Merida. "Uh Rapunzel?" Jack asked. Rapunzel froze in place still having her tongue out; she quickly closed her mouth in embarrassment "Um! That was just- I was err trying to get this hair off my tongue? Uh yeah! There was hair on my tongue, and it was really annoying!” She lied while stuttering. Merida just shook her head at Rapunzel, trying so hard not to laugh at her. Rapunzel made a mental note to get her back later. "Ah okay whatever you say" Jack said. ‘Oh my gosh! That was so embarrassing’ thought Rapunzel as she fiddle with her fingers. "So did you guys want to head out to the movies now?" Hiccup asked us. "Yeah, since A’m startin’ to get hungry for popcorn" Merida said. The four teens began to make their way to the movie theater. If you couldn’t tell by her face Rapunzel was really happy that she was hanging out with Jack and walking right next to him. If she could she would have scream for joy but that would make him think she’s weird. She then looked back at Jack while they walk; she took in all his features once again and made a big dreamy smile ‘His eyes are like the ocean’ She then noticed Jack turn to look at her, which made her flinched in shock and quickly looked away from him. "Are you okay Rapunzel?” asked Jack. "Huh? Uh w-what do you m-mean?" She asked him nervously. “Didn’t it hurt when you bumped into the tree earlier?” Jack wondered. “Aaah!” said Rapunzel and quickly turned her head away ‘Oh my goodness! I can’t believe he really saw that!’ she thought hiding her red face with her hands from embarrassment ‘He must think I’m clumsy for running into a tree!’ “Rapunzel?” Rapunzel snap out of her thought and looked at Jack “Huh? What?” “I said if you were okay?” He asked again. “M-Me? No! I-I mean yes!” replied Rapunzel as she laughed nervously “My h-head is fine! It’s made of rock! I-I-I mean it’s like a rock! No it’s hard as a rock! Hehe” Jack gave a confuse look “Okay? If you say so” he then turned his attention back to Hiccup and continued talking. Rapunzel couldn’t believe what she just said ‘Me and my big mouth’ she thought. “Hang in thaur lassie” said Merida as she patted her head with sympathy. Meanwhile… At the Art Competition, it was now finally coming to an end, with the judges now tallying up the scores of all the contestants’ work. They finish giving the 1st place trophy to the best Canvas paint now it was time for the best Sculpture, after taking 20 minutes to debate on which sculpture piece pleased them the most, they had finally came to a final decision. "Alright everyone will you all gather around to hear the final results on whose Sculpture art piece had the most creative and outstanding work." The host of the competition said. Everyone began to gather around the stage, looking up at the many contestants who had participated. "We are all happy to have seen such wonderful pieces. We can all tell that you all put a lot of work and heart into it. But as you all know, not everyone can win. But that doesn’t make every one of you less talented" One of the judges said. Everyone began clapping after hearing the nice speech. Making some of the contestants smile and feel a little less nervous. "Now to make things more interesting we wanted to narrow it down to two contestants who had really outstanding pieces of work. So without further ado" The host said excitedly. That's when the contestants started to look more nervous again, waiting patiently for the results. "Let's have Darryl Lottsman and John Henderson up here to the front of the stage!" The host yelled excitedly. They looked at each other both extremely happy to be in the top two, before quickly rushing to the front in excitement. "We’re sorry for the rest of you who didn’t make it but we’re happy to have had you all here. Alright everyone let’s give it up for the contestants who participated!" The host yelled out. Everyone cheered for them, as the ones who didn’t make it walked off the stage. Some looked sad and some looked happy to have at least being a part of the whole thing. As the cheering and clapping started to die down, that's when the host began to speak up again. He then reached in the back of his pants pocket pulling out a white and gold envelope that held the name of the winner. "And for the moment we've all been waiting for. The judges took a lot of time with deciding which Sculpture they admired the most. The one that showed lots of beauty almost showing no mistakes, and so the winner is..." The host said. Everyone waited anxiously, leaning in anticipation, Darryl and John looking quite nervous but ready to hear the results. Once the host finally opened the envelope he then read the results. "John Henderson! You are the winner for the most outstanding and creative Sculpture! Come on up here to the front!" The host yelled excitedly. Everyone cheered in excitement, confetti falling down on the winner and crowd. Darryl looked as if the life had been sucked out of him right there, while John on the other hand looked ecstatic. He ran up to the front grabbing the trophy from one of the workers who ran on stage. Everyone began to cheer louder as they saw John’s sculpture show up on the huge projection screen for everyone to see. Not even noticing Darryl backing away slowly into the shadows, before finally walking off the stage. His head hung low in disappointment but as if the pain weren't deep enough he heard the people talk about how John deserved to win, with his sculpture looking so majestic and detailed. Saying they were beyond surprised at how well he managed to make the wings look so life like. "What was the other guy's piece again?" He heard a male voice in the crowd as he walked by. "Um wasn't it some kind of lion or something?" Another male person asked. Darryl stayed for a bit interested in what they were going to say about his art sculpture. "Yeah good thing he didn't win. I found his sculpture to be quite boring." One female voice said. "Yeah I mean a lion? Come on you couldn’t think of anything else? It's no wonder he lost to John" said another person female. "I know right? I guess he'll know next time to do something else huh? Ha ha" another guy laughed. Darryl started to back away slowly as tears started forming in his eyes, as he overheard the group of people criticize his work ‘I did my best. I spent days on making every last strand of detail. How could they think it was useless and not worthy?’ thought Darryl not realizing one of the tables behind him, and before he knew it he had fallen over the table before falling to the ground, making the table fall over in the process. That’s when everyone including the group of people who were criticizing his work turned to look at him. Feeling overwhelmed and embarrassed, he finally ran outside of the building. Not being able to take the pressure of everyone judging him any longer. Once Darryl had finally found a place to hide from everyone, that’s when he just broke down in tears. "I can’t believe I thought I actually had potential. No wonder no one liked my sculpture, I'll never be any good. Why did I ever think I could?" Darryl had cried to himself sadly not noticing it, a dark black and purple dragonfly had landed onto his wristband, it fuse itself into it as soon as it made contact. "Do you wish to make the people pay for causing you humiliation?” said a voiced inside Darryl’s head “Because I am here to give you the power to take your revenge and show them your real talent, all you have to do is follow my orders and bring me Mariposa and Fenrir Frost's miraculous" Darryl stopped crying and stands up "Yes. I will do whatever you ask of me Dark Nightmare..." Darryl said with a crooked smile. A dragonfly mark appeared on his face and was glowing a purple light then a dark energy began to manifest all over Darryl’s body. After a few seconds later the dark energy disappeared and Darryl became Akumatized. "Good, I'm glad you understand Sculptman" ~0~ Merida watched as Rapunzel was going back and forth mumbling for the past 5 minutes in the girl’s bathroom, she had tried to calm her best friend down but she wasn’t having any luck. "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! What am I going to do Merida?! What am I going to do?!" cried Rapunzel. They have all arrived at the movie theater and bought their tickets, the boys went to find their seats while the girls offered to buy the popcorn and drinks but ended up in the bathroom. While Merida was doing fine, Rapunzel felt like she was going to have a heart attack “What if I fall and spill soda on me? Or even worse what if I spill soda on him?!” she said while drastically shaking Merida's shoulders. Merida grabbed a hold of her hands and took them off of her, then looked at Rapunzel straight in the eyes. "Okay Punzie ye need to relax. Ah dunnae know what yoo're getting’ yerself sae worked up for?” Questioned Merida. "Maybe it's because I'm finally going to spend some time with Jack! And I have no idea what I'm going to even talk to him about!” yelled Rapunzel she was breathing heavily and felt like she would pass out any second. This just all seems too surreal for her; Merida just looked at her in bewilderment, before rolling her eyes a bit and looking at her with a sigh. "Ye do realize we came here to watch a movie together right? Yoo're not gonnae have to worry about talkin’ to heem" Merida said. "That may be true. But what if he asks me how the movie is?! I'll end up freezing or worse saying something utterly embarrassing again!" She yelled in panic. "Rapunzel Ah swear if ye dornt calm down, Ah will teel Jack how ye love to paint pictures of ye and heem married, and how ye take pics of heem without heem knowin’ for references!" Merida shouted. Rapunzel gasped loudly feeling as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water on her head "Y-You wouldn't!" She said nervously. "Ah will if ye keep gonnae crazy on me" Merida said with a playful yet serious expression. "Okay fine... I'll try not to overreact too much" responded Rapunzel. "Good, coz remember we all came here to have a good time. And Ah dornt want ye to be overthinkin’ things and being upset. So just enjoy this, okay?" Merida said placing her arm around her shoulders. "Yes I understand. Okay let's go and watch the movie" said Rapunzel feeling a bit more confident. "That's what I'm talking about lassie! Let's go before the guys think we ditched them" Merida said before pulling Rapunzel in a rush out of the bathroom. They went to buy the popcorn and drinks, lucky for them the line wasn’t too long. Merida was holding four sodas in a box and Rapunzel was carrying four bags of popcorn. Eventually they made their way into the theater room, and looked at their tickets to see where they were sitting. It would’ve been easier had the lights in the room hadn't been so dim. Eventually the intro to the movie started to play and Rapunzel started to panic again ‘Oh no, are we seriously not going to be able to find our seats?!” "Hey girls! We’re up here!" Rapunzel heard someone shout, before she quickly realized it was Jack’s voice, she turn and blushed as she made eye contact with him. Even in the dark she could still see his deep blue eyes. Rapunzel would have looked at him longer but stopped when she noticed him smiling at her ‘I hope he doesn't think I’m weird for staring at him too long’ thought Rapunzel. Merida snapped Rapunzel out of her thoughts by grabbing her wrist with one hand while the other carried the sodas and pulled her along to where the guys are. Rapunzel was nervous and was not ready to go, but she let Merida drag her along anyways. Eventually the the girl’s reached their row seats and did their best to make it over to Jack and Hiccup without stepping on anyone's feet. "Hey ye guys! Thanks for letting’ us know whaur ye were. It was so freaking dark; Ah could hardly see our row number" Merida said as she handed Hiccup and Jack their popcorns and sodas. "Ha ha well good thing you guys at least got in here before the movie started" Hiccup chuckled as he took a sip from the cold drink. "Yeah I woold've been so mad to have missed the beginnin’ of Captain America: Civil War" Merida stated as she grab her popcorn from Rapunzel and sat two seats away from Jack, leaving a seat between him and her for Rapunzel to sit. ‘Oh my gosh’ thought Rapunzel as she held the bag of popcorn tight. "Uh Rapunzel are you going to sit down? You're kind of in the way" Hiccup asked. "Oh uh yeah you're right. Sorry let me just hurry—Ahh!" Rapunzel tried to get to her seat but she ended up tripping over Hiccup's foot, to make the situation more embarrassing she ended up landing on top of Jack's laps and even worse she spilled her bag of popcorn all over him. Rapunzel eyes were wide with shock while Jack, Hiccup and Merida were surprise to what just happen. “I’m so sorry!” cried Rapunzel. "It’s okay. This might be the first time I had popcorn thrown at me" Jack said with a chuckle. Rapunzel began to blush a dark red before hiding her face away from him ‘Is it possible that if you wished hard enough, you could make yourself disappear? Cause I've never felt so embarrassed in my life’ Rapunzel snap out of her thoughts by Jack who help her get up. Then he held her hand to help guide her to the seat next to him. Rapunzel felt her face grow warm again from the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers. "Don't want you falling again right?" Jack said with a playful smile. "Uh er - yeah r-right" stuttered Rapunzel as she sat down and let go of his hand. “Since your popcorn is all over me. You can have some of mine” offered Jack. “M-Me? Popcorn-you? Really?!” asked Rapunzel. Jack smile “Sure” Rapunzel made a nervous smile “T-Thank you” then she felt an elbow lightly hit her in the arm already knowing that it was her best friend Merida trying getting her attention. Rapunzel turned to look at her in question before she saw Merida send her a smirk “At leest you didn’t spill soda on heem” said Merida making Rapunzel blush more and smack her in her arm to make her stop. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to survive throughout this whole movie’ she thought in exasperation. ~0~ The screams of the many people reached his ears as Darryl now known as Sculptman wreak havoc everywhere he went. Sculptman aimed his gun at a man and shot clay all over him and enjoy the sound of terror that he made. Then the clay remove itself from the human and morphed itself to look like the man, while the real one stood solidified like a statue. Sculptman look around and had not seen any signs of Mariposa or Fenrir Frost, he needs to get their miraculous for Dark Nightmare. But since they hadn't shown up yet it wouldn’t hurt to take revenge on the people who made fun of him ‘They thought they could get away with making people feel like crap, like they weren't good enough. No, I will make them pay for what they did to me’ thought Sculptman angrily. And with that thought he made his way to the place where his dreams were crushed. As he arrived at the entrance to the Art museum he lifted his wrist up to shoot out clay from his wristband. The clay ended up spraying onto the doors, hardening them instantly, and then he walked up closer to them before roughly kicking them down. The door instantly falling apart, the people in the museum all turned around in shock, Sculptman let his creation run loose and he shot out more clay from the wristband turning more people nearby into clay statues and gaining more sculture minions. That's when people started to panic and run past him out of the museum. He let them run past except for one group of five people that he had come for. "Oh no you thought you guys were going to get the chance to leave?" said Sculptman with an evil smirk. "Why are you doing this to us? What did we ever do to you?!" One of the girls from the group shouted. "Yeah please let us go!" One of the guys added. "Really? You guys did nothing? Do you not remember how you treated a young artist earlier? How you mocked him and made him feel like nothing?!" shouted Sculptureman at them in disbelief. "W-What do you mean?" One of them stuttered nervously. "Unless you’re... Darryl?" Another person from their group had said. "But how is that possible?!" One of the females spoke. "Does it really matter? You guys made the mistake of talking low of me. Now you'll all pay!” shouted Scultpman as he raised his hand up and shot clay towards them. They all screamed much to Sculptman satisfaction and they were covered with clay. The clay separated itself from the group and morph into the same five people and leaving the real ones frozen as clay statues. He smiled in enjoing the look of fear in their faces and turned to walk out of the Art Museum. ‘Now that they are taken care of, all I need to do now is get Mariposa and Fenrir Frost to come out to play. And I know just how to do that’ he thought before going into town to cause more destruction. ~0~ So far Rapunzel was finding herself liking the movie a lot more than she thought she would. Since action movies are more of Merida's thing but the movie was done really well to where she was enjoying it. Not to mention they managed to add some humor into the movie that was actually funny. Rapunzel reach out to grab some popcorn but then notice Jack’s hand also reaching out and she quickly pull her hand back but then she mentally face palm ‘Wait why did I do that? I could have touch his hand? I’m so stupid!’ "So are you enjoying the movie?" I heard Jack whisper to me. "Huh?! Uh y-yeah I am. How you? I-I mean how about you?" replied Rapunzel quietly as she couldn't help from stuttering. "Yeah I’m enjoying it too. I've been waiting for this movie to come out for years. And I gotta say I’m not disappointed." Jack said with a bright smile. Rapunzel couldn't help herself from smiling back at him ‘It makes me so happy seeing his smiles’ "Hey Rapunzel?" whispered Jack snapping her out of her day dream. "Ah! Uh yes?!" She shouted loudly. Everyone turned to SHUSH at her, and she could see some angry and annoyed faces which made her shrink into her seat and whispered sorry to all of them. Eventually everyone turned back to watch the movie ‘That was so embarrassing’ "Oh my gosh Punzie" Merida chuckled at her, while also giving her that knowing look. "Heh sorry didn’t mean to startle you” chuckled Jack quietly. Rapunzel had her hands in her face trying to hide the blush ‘Can it get any worse?’ As if to answer her question Rapunzel heard some screaming she thought that it could be from the movie but it didn’t, the screaming was coming from outside. Both Rapunzel and Jack jolted up from shock and turned to look at the entrance. Everyone started to look concern upon hearing the many screams. Eventually everyone even felt the ground shake from some kind of blast. That’s when everyone inside the movie theater started to go on a full out panic. "What in the world was that?!" Merida yells in shock. "I don’t know, that felt like some kind of earthquake" Hiccup said a bit nervously. "I-It almost seemed like it was something else” said Rapunzel in confusion. "And I can bet it’s not good" Jack said. Then they heard even more screaming and before they knew it they saw the doors to the movie theater burst open. Rapunzel saw some human sculptures made of clay walk in and started to throw things and gabbing anyone they can get their clay hands on. "Agh! What the heck are those things?!" Merida shouted. "I don't know but I’m not staying to find out, let’s get out of here!" Hiccup had yelled to us. The four teens got up from their seats and started running towards the exit and so did everyone else, they were about to reach the door but then two of the clay sculpture grabbed hold of Merida and Hiccup. "Help!" yelled Hiccup. “Let go of me!” shouted Merida. "Merida! Hiccup!" yelled both Rapunzel and Jack. They were about to help them but more of the sculptures were coming and were blocking their way to their friends. Jack and Rapunzel back away slowly from the approaching clay sculptures and they can still hear their friends struggling to get themselves free. Rapunzel was worried for Merida and Hiccup and knew that she had to act fast ‘I need to find a place to hide’ she looked over to Jack and could see that he had a serious expression on his face. "Jack what are we going to do?" She asked him. Jack saw a broom on the floor and quickly grab it and use it to push the clay sculptures back "Come on! Let’s hurry!" he said as he grab Rapunzel’s hand and both made a run for it. As Jack used the broom to fight off the sculptures they eventually made it out of theater room and able to run past the sculptures and quickly run down the hallway. Jack saw the doors to the bathrooms and he pulled Rapunzel inside the girl’s bathroom. "Stay here. I'm going to see if I can find someone for help" Jack said to her. Rapunzel didn’t like the idea of Jack risking himself to danger "But-But Jack-" "Don't worry, I promise to come back" said Jack giving her a reassuring smile and quickly ran down the hall. As soon as Jack was out of sight Rapunzel check all the stalls to make sure there was no one in the girl’s bathroom and quickly opened her purse and out came Jia hovering next to her “There is no way I’m going to sit back here and do nothing" stated Rapunzel. "You're ready to go save your friends" Jia said with a smile. Rapunzel nodded and had a determine look on her face then her black earing turn to a light pink and then she flip her hand back which touch her earing and yelled. "Jia Wings on!" Jia is pulled inside the earring, then it glowed and the earing morphed into a butterfly. Rapunzel placed both her hands together to her face and spread them apart, it created a fuchsia colored mask with a butterfly wing below her right eye and a vine design on her left eye. She then spread both her arms out and a magical energy appears above her head and glides down on her. Rapunzel’s brunette color hair turns into a golden blonde and it grew longer that reach up to her calves. A fuchsia skintight top with a butterfly wing design appears on her, then fuchsia skintight pants formed on her legs with a vine like design and something wraps around her feet which created a pair of black boots. A flower is placed on the right side of her hair, then two pair of butterfly wings spread out on her back and lastly around her hips a string appeared with a fuchsia pink yo-yo that had a butterfly wing pattern. Rapunzel made a few spins, lifted her leg up and then strikes a pose. Meanwhile... Jack was able to dodge the clay sculptures and manages to get outside of the movie theater. He quickly found a place where he knows he wouldn’t be seen by anyone and that his secret would be safe. “Let’s go Nixx!” said Jack as he looks inside his hoodie jacket but got no respond “Nixx!” “I need my beauty sleep” spoke a small male voice from inside the jacket. Jack made an annoyed look then reach inside his pants and got out a piece of Camembert cheese from his pocket. The scent of the cheese made something flied out from Jack’s hoodie; it snatches the cheese from his hand and began to eat it. Jack looked at the small floating creature known as Nixx he had white fur and blue marks on his body, he had a large head, tiny body and blue eyes. Just by looking at him you can easily tell that he resembles a wolf with his pointy ears, fangs and fluffy tail. Jack crossed his arms as he watched his small friend eat “Guess you had enough beauty sleep?” “Yes but not enough cheese” replied Nixx with his mouth full of cheese. “Well now is not the time” said Jack as he gave a signature smirk and had his left hand into a fist. “Nixx Fangs out!” Before Nixx could finish his cheese he was suck into the ring, Jack lifted his left hand up and his black ring turned silver and in the center appeared a bright blue paw mark. Then with his four fingers he traces them across his eyes which created a mask that was silver with a blue color line below. With both his hands he brush his hair back which cause his brown hair to turn white and two wolf ears appeared on his head. He then spread both his arms out and a blue magical energy slides down, a skin-tight silver body suit appeared on his body with two blue stripes above both his elbows and abdomen. He also had matching gloves and boots with hidden wedges. A blue belt wraps around his waist and a white fluffy tail appears too. Jack made two air punches and a kick and then strike a pose. In the city of Paris these two are more than just your average teenagers, they protect the city and people from the villain Dark Nightmare and his evil Akuma’s They are... Mariposa & Fenrir Frost To be continued…

If you guys are interested in reading more, go to my friend’s fanfiction account listed below:)  https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4736294/ But I’ll also be posting the second part of chapter 1 later today. :) I also gotta say it was a bit difficult but nonetheless really fun helping @linezrodriguez writing the first few chapters of her story. Luna did such an amazing job with her part in writing. I mean if it wasn’t for her this story probably would have never happened. I’m looking forward to helping her write the next chapters. Also I wanna give a special thanks to her friend @rosesnvines  for helping give us some ideas to use for Mariposa’s powers

[holdon-a-minute]

As Time Repeats

Chapter I

A New World

*Present Day*

Shuffling feet, deep laughs, screeching brakes, choirs of songbird, pieces of conversation...each adding to create the loud bustle that loafs through the street. Listening. She slowly raises her eyelids, to only be greeted by the soft morning sun welcoming each body with its warmth.

Shining smiles, trees of chartreuse, paves of stone grey, breeze-caught hair...all merging together to paint one picturesque scene. Watching. She rests back onto the wooden public bench, controlled deep breaths escaping through her button nose.

Mature parfum, strong mowed grass, golden-baked delicacies, polluting fumes, freshly ground coffee beans...scents of good and bad are to be known everywhere you turn. Inhaling.

Now comes feel.

"Ugh..." Renae lets out an exasperated breath in defeat, sitting her elbows on her spread knees and burying her face deep in her dry palms. She tightly traps her airways, holding her breath as the tears threaten to spill from her eyes once again, before she stops herself and forces the words off her tongue, "I do not want to feel this way." She may not be happy now, she thinks to herself, but this is the start of a new beginning. And at new beginnings there is always hope. "Be optimistic..!" she whispers to herself, but Renae knows better than anyone that it's hardest to keep up with your new start when you didn't even want it in the first place.

Standing from the bench, she turns her judging eyes away from the classy lady who had tried to sit down beside her, and soppily strolls down the direction of her destination. Renae pushes herself past—fitted in her signature style of a soft fabric zip-hoodie and a dark leather jacket layered on top—determined to get through the swarm of bodies and make it back to her quiet house quickly. She wanders through Paris as if she's known it all her life now; the street of shops damp and dewy. Wind whistles through her raw ears as they heed the leftover rain that pitter-patters through gutters, down drain pipes and into the city grids.

The screeching, beeping of a pedestrian crossing makes a deafening echo as Renae and a huddle of rushing people cross the cobbled road, instantly zooming her back into focus of reality. Walking through the avenues of France you can smell dozens of different scents everywhere and anywhere. But Renae's favourite of all, she's come to realise, is the trace of a gingerbread man that runs past her. Every time, he calls out, and every time she ends up chasing him to Mr Baker's Bakery. Mmm, the bakery. This is where the baker she's come to know torments everybody with his luscious pies and pastries sitting on display in the window. And when he opens his huge oven door every day, religiously at 10:30, the whole road is filled with the most sensational smell of freshly baked bread rolls.

When her leg starts to vibrate, she reaches into her pocket and answers the person calling, "Hello."

"Ren, how come you're not home yet? You're going to be late."

"I'm on my way now Alice, and I've got half an hour yet. That's plenty of time to get ready."

"Well have you had any lunch yet? You can't go on an empty stomach your nerves will get the better of you."

Renae chuckles, "I'm not that nervous Al, I'll just eat an apple or something on the way there."

"An apple? Alright then, whatever suits you, I'm not going to argue with you on this important day now am I?"

"No, and I shouldn't think so," she teases as a smile plays at her lips and Renae rounds the corner. "Right, I'm round the corner now I'll be two minutes."

"Okay hun, see you in a minute. Bye."

"Bye!"

Renae was now in the neighborhood, the rush of the street of shops (as Renae and Alice call it) now gone, giving way to the open and tranquility of her housing estate. She loves her short over-the-phone conversations with Alice. They always play quite amusingly, and never fail to reveal their bond of trust, love and laughs.

She swings into the hallway of her home, and is almost immediately greeted with a "Hello!" coming from another unlocated room of the two-bed house, as usual. She shouts back a 'Hi!" and rushes upstairs, dodging another of her Aunty Alice's extremely energetic speeches that are supposed to be the best motivator out there. She changes into something a bit more formal, touching up her makeup as she passes the standing mirror, fills her faux leather bag with almost everything from her desk (just in case), picks up an apple and heads back out onto the street, where her taxi is conveniently waiting.

"Good luck!" Alice wails as she watches her niece drive straight into the fate of adulthood.

~~~~

*Ding-a-ling*

Renae steps through the old brown door and enters the café she hopes to call a workplace sometime soon. The space is fairly large considering its compact look from the outside, and it is so beautiful—everything the young photographer in the corner would need for his aesthetically pleasing Instagram page. She lets the soft, welcoming atmosphere envelop her whole as she strolls deeper into the intricate café, the warmth of brewing tea, the fresh scent of lavender, the ancient bookcase lining the wall, the smokey smell of lit candles, the dark brown wooden furniture, all making Renae feel as cozy as you can be in a Paris café. The building has an aged, withering feel, but the dozens of lush green plants dangling from ceiling to floor brought the life back into the room quickly; the pop of bright emerald managing to spark the creativity into any person who might pass through.

She finds her way to the counter, and politely addresses the waitress. "Hi, I'm here for a job interview with the owner. My name's Renae Cruzette, I rang a few days ago."

"Oh chéri, that would be me," the woman speaks in perfect English, but with a French roll to her tongue, "Come with me and we'll have a seat. Would you like some tea?"

"Green tea would be nice, thanks," Renae replies and finds a small round table for two to sit down.

"I'm Clemence Rosher—founder, owner—of this place, as you will already know."

Renae smiles and does a little laugh, "It's nice to meet you Clemence." The two shake hands as the bleach-blonde woman passes Renae a steaming mug of green tea, the teabag still left in of course.

"Yes and you are Renae Cruzette, you said?"

"Mhm." Renae was waiting for the traffic of questions to come along and preparing herself not to get stuck or lost in them, but they never did, and she finds herself feeling utterly relaxed with the welcoming woman before her.

"So, let's get down to business yes? Why are you here today?"

"I'm looking for a first job actually, and when I heard you were hiring it seemed perfect, because I don't live too far from here and I love baking every now and then, as well as being creative with coffee art. I'm quite the artistic person, you see."

"Good good. That's what I like to hear," Clemence looks into Renae's eyes and gives a shining bright smile, "So are you willing to give your all into this job? I need someone new, someone fresh who will put a part of their soul into my café. I need perseverance, a respectful and capable person. Why would I choose you?"

"I am all of those things and more Miss."

"Madame," she interrupts.

"Right, sorry Madame."

"Who always comes first in my business?"

"The customer does, always!" Renae eagerly answers after not understanding the question for a few seconds.

"Are you good with mathematics? Can you quickly count change?"

"Yes, I graded a nine in my GCSE when I lived in England."

"In England you say? I thought you had a different accent chéri!"

"Yeah I just recently moved here actually."

"Tell me a bit about that then. Why did you move, are you here permanently?" Clemence curiously asks.

"I think I'll be staying here for a good few years now until I have the money to move out and go back to Britain. I've always lived with my Aunty, ever since I was a baby. My parents have never been around, I don't even remember my mother's face, but my Aunty Alice got a promotion, so we had to move here."

"Oh chéri that must be terrible for you, not even knowing your parents!"

"It's fine really! I love Alice so much, she's always been there for me and I respect her with all my heart for deciding to take me in, but she never took the opportunity to become my mother. She's always been my aunty and kept the truth at bay about my parents."

"I see, so is she your true biological aunt then?"

"Yes! She's my father's sister."

"Oh she must be so very brave then, I admire her strength taking in just a child!"

"I do too. You know she is French as well, so it was a delight to her when the company said she'd be moving to their Paris branch. She took me in when she was just eighteen, and we both went to England so she could finish university. It was very stressful for her, and I am so greatful for her determination to not only provide a steady life for herself, but for a child that wasn't even her own too!"

*Snap*

"Yes she sounds like an amazing woman! So how old are you now then?"

"Seventeen."

*Snap*  The photographer guy's camera clicks away

"When would you be willing to start? I'd have to give you some training first of course, but it'd be nothing major."

"As soon as possible Clemence!"

"Okay then how about I give you a call next Monday when I'm ready for you to come down? I have meetings and all sorts until then."

*Snap*

*Snap*

"Perfect, thank you so much!"

"Oh no worries, I have great expectations of you," and she give Renae a wink as they stand and part ways, Renae not knowing yet that it'd be the last time she speaks to the friendly woman who owns a café.

*Snap*

~~~~

Five days later.

"Alice, she still hasn't rang me after three days!" Renae bursts as she storms into the kitchen. A series of transparent patio doors line the back wall of the completely white kitchen, the only colour of the room being the numbers of herbs scattered along the windowsills and the grey laminate flooring below. It reminds Renae of a hospital, and she would very much like to hand some paintings on the walls and colourful flowers, nevertheless it's still comfortable to be in when you've got Alice as company.

"She probably just forgot, don't stress," Alice reassures her.

"I saw her write it in her diary! And she definitely said that she was going to employ me. It's getting ridiculous! Even if she did change her mind about me, a little text to apologise wouldn't hurt!"

"I know, she shouldn't have left you hanging like that, that is very unprofessional," Alice speaks in such a wise, calming manner.

"I really would've liked that job as well," she says saddened now, "It would've met all my needs of a simple first job, but one that I would still enjoy and be easy to settle into."

"I know Ren, but you can't just sit here sulking about it, why don't you go back there and see what's going on with this woman—for your own sake at least."

"What if I make it more awkward though?"

"You won't. You're only going to politely ask when you're going to be set for some training, because you've got other things you need to attend and you can't keep having it delayed or being left in the dark."

"I suppose..."

"Come on, it's not fair on you that she's done this, so go and change out of that old hoodie and get down there standing loud and proud!"

"Okay, thanks Al," and Renae gives her understanding Aunty a bear hug, then rushes upstairs to prepare herself to face Clemence again.

~~~~

The moment she steps out of the front door, an ear-splitting ring starts to sound in Renae's earlobes and an eye-aching migraine begins to crawl into her mind. She should just brush it off, but not matter how hard she tries, Renae just can't shake the bad feeling that drops to the pit of her stomach and the butterflies that flutter up and get lodged in her throat. Renae steadies herself on the doorway for a second, closing her eyes to ease the pounding in her head. She takes a shaky breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, and pushes aside this feeling, ready to take on her plan of action.

Her taxi ride seems to drag on for hours in the stuffy, cramped backseat, the breeze of the day barely noticeable even with the car windows all open. The heat is almost unbearable. Renae can't understand if it's anxiety (which she's never experienced before), or an illness she's suddenly caught that's making her feel this way, but something isn't sitting right in her flesh and bones. Due to the long, unmoving queue of vehicles, Renae decides to just pay the taxi driver now and walk down the rest of the way where café stood stunningly at the end of the road.

She looks about her to see that everyone is busy trying to get to places, and as she strolls further down the street she notices that she's come to a hidden alleyway, "Millbreury Lane, hm." Given her situation and the want to avoid it completely, Renae roams down the alleyway of tall, old-fashioned buildings taking her time to observe her exquisite surroundings.

Right along the bottom of the attached buildings are stores, and they are magnificent to the eye: cafés sit with intricate metal tables and chairs outside; hanging baskets spread throughout are filled with the most colourful, delicate flowers; antique shops showcase their treasures in the wide window each store possesses; and the cobbled floor beneath glows and sparkles as the afternoon sun shines down on the moist puddles and excess rain.

*Chuchak*

Renae stands still. So impossibly still.

The beautiful antique alleyway seems to disappear around her in slow motion as Renae is sucked back into reality and her eyes are met with metal.

Thick, cold, silver-grey metal.

Pointed at her forehead, in-between her eyes, is a slick handgun. For a while she cannot see the person whose hand is slid around the trigger, nor the group of men accompanying them. For a while, it was just her and the weapon, playing a dangerous game in a little world of their own—the opponent not even alive but still taking the lead and winning the girl over completely. She cannot break her eyes away from the metal in front of her, and the hand-held violence cannot take its eyes off Renae.

She feels frozen in her place, barely able to breathe, as the gun wielder speaks, "Oh chéri," before smacking Renae over the side of her head with the loaded gun.

All soon went black.

[eriseclipsenuiwitch]

The Outcasts- chapter 9

Yaga generally didn't have anything against storms. Provided she wasn't within their reach and they did not steal roofs over her head. Or did not throw a wooden cage in which she was closed. And every collision with bamboo shoots created new bruises on her body. Her "cell" colleague had an identical problem. Of course, their guard ran away. At some point, with another strong jerk, a strange, white hat with long ears (or maybe it was horns?) fell from his head, showing greasy, dirty-yellow hair and... a pair of shining, blue wings. Oy, It has to be this last jerk Yaga started to touching her head to find a bump. "Don't look!" Qilby yelled while trying to hide the oddity on his own and raise his white hat in this same time. "I can not see anything, totally nothing!" The girl covered her eyes to prove the truth of her words. About the things that can't be showed to others she knew pretty well. She would even boast a few of them if... well. "All right, now you can," the man hissed, correcting the hat's horns on his wings. Yaga took her fingers from her face. "What's with your lips? This color is from swelling or some cure?" "From swelling, but it will soon disappear," muttered Qilby. Yaga would gladly continue the subject (since it was not marked as forbidden), but then another huge blast of wind came through the grotto, which threw the girl's cage at Qilby's. There was a burst of cracking wood, two surprised screams, then a loud splash and characteristic, empty noises when the bamboo fell down on the rocks. "It could have been worse," muttered Qilby as he and Yaga managed to get their heads out of the water. Then something roared behind the "window" of the cave and a two prisoners has been attacked by gigantic amounts of sea water. "Oh, seriously?!" Yaga squealed as they reached the lake's surface again "I don't know about your scientific findings, but remember: 'When you ask the Universe what else can go fuckin' wrong, one thing is sure. IMMEDIATE ANSWER'!" "BUT I SAID THAT COULD BE WORSE, NOT WHAT CAN GO WRONG!" protested the Eliatrop, tugging his hat on for the second time that day. "THE UNIVERSE DOESN'T FUCKIN' CARE, FOR IT THIS IS EXACTLY SAME THING!" Yaga roared, then she narrowed her eyes. "But your version is a variant of optimists." "WHAT'S GOIN' ON HERE?!" Shouted a feminine voice from the door. "Hi, Kira," Yaga grumbled, and she was about to continue to quarrel with Qilby when something came to her. "What...?" The surprised girl looked toward the entrance to the cave. There was a slightly irritated Echo, Adamai with erect scales on his tail, scared Robin and angry Kira. "Oh, you already know each other!" nothing better came to Yaga's mind. ------------- About half an hour and 20 curses later... "Let me make it clear" Qilby raised his eyebrow, trying to keep his teeth from jingling. "As soon as we ran after Yaga, you took off your stage dress, ran behind us, you found her bag and... repeat the last part, please" "I quickly bought the boat and started rowing after you," Kira said, shrugging her shoulders. "Unfortunately, it started to leak and that's why I came with such a delay" "That is possible at all?" Adamai frowned. The thing was Robin's ship was fast. "There are things in the Universe that philosophers, physiologists, and people visiting tax offices haven't dreamed about, dear" Yaga muttered, smiling from the corner of her mouth. And shaking from the cold from head to toe. "Changing the subject," Echo snapped, putting her hands on her hips. "What can I do with her? I can't throw her away..." "Just try it, sunshine" Kira said. "...because she knows the location of the Cursed Citadel" the woman didn't even notice her "Unless... Can we talk for a moment?" "Be careful, she uses the tricky questions," Yaga whispered. "We can" Sram's venerable answered "Only one cute little thing, Yaga, your bag" And she gave her friend's leather backpack, which looked as if it had been made of a random pieces of fabric (mainly in the dark colors). Surprised Yaga opened it and looked inside. Her face was filled with a wide smile. "Echo..." Yaga put her hand on the demigoddess' shoulder, ignoring her angry glance, "I think I can do for you more than massage... But that doesn't mean you can't ask for one." ------------------- Echo conducted a brief environmental interview with Kira and ordered Robin to take her... somewhere, Yaga didn't hear it. Then Adamai grabbed Qilby by his hair (and part of neck) and pulled him into one of the tunnels that led deeper down, and Lady Echo clenched her fingers at Yaga's elbow and dragged her (with the bag) up the stairs to the higher "floor". This part was one of the original parts of the fort, judging by the parallel stone blocks that pierced through a dense moss. But Yaga couldn't take a closer look at them (shame, because at the moss were some really interesting plants and mushrooms), because Echo led her to the door, which looked like a new. It was a large, brightly lit training room with wooden floors and large windows without glass. Near wall opposite to the door stood: Ush, Kali (the daughter of Goddess Sacrier), Toxine and son of Goddess Feca. And they stared intensely at the dark-haired girl. "My dears, it's Yaga," said the woman."She has some extraordinary skills that I would like to check out. Have fun" Echo smiled maliciously and left Yaga alone with a group of demigods. "Damn it," Yaga muttered under her breath. ----------------------- Adamai dragged Qilby to a place where was terribly cold. The drenched man shuddered and jingle his teeth. Death from pneumonia, that on the list of deaths didn't have yet! "It's here," the ivory dragon snapped, removing the thick white winter coat from hanger, next to the silver metal door on which winter motives were and... a frost? Adamai reached for one of the silver snowflakes on the door and turned it first to the right and then to the left. Qilby watched the door with fascination. Once, many centuries ago, he designed such door to the mausoleum of the Firstborn Eliatropes, so that no one could steal their Dofus. Then he and Chibi installed such in their workshops. There was a mechanical clang and the door opened. A cold fog spilled from the inside. Qilby looked at Adamai doubtfully, and the young dragon pushed him to the room, giving him a cloak. Count Harebourg's laboratory was amazing. And bloody cold. In some places, a thin layer of snow was visible. All documents and delicate devices were properly protected from cold. The room was illuminated with some white crystals. All instruments and machines were constructed of silver (or very similar, but stronger metal) and sometimes adorned with star sapphires. Everything was carefully and precisely designed. Harebourg was a true master in his profession. "Beautiful," whispered Qilby, touching the unfinished clockwork owl lying on the table. "But what does that have to do with me?" "We lost the only good scientist," growled Adamai, avoiding telling in what circumstances it has happened to. "Lady Echo wants you to look through his notes and make use of what you have in this sick head of yours" "It was your mistress who finished him," the old Eliatrop muttered amused. "Not your business," whispered the ivory dragon, grabbing his hair, but this time he let go quickly enough. "If you say so..." Qilby grinned so wide that Adamai saw his wisdom teeth. "The door is open, so use them and go out" "How dare you…?!" Adamai felt a fireball rise in his throat. "If I have to work with these I need peace and silence," Qilby said calmly, without stopping to expose his teeth. "And you would not know what that was, even if you were kicked in your tail by it. So out" Adamai's whole body was shaking with fury, but he slammed shut the door. Qilby chuckled and placed the notes left by the previous laboratory's owner on the only free desk. Suddenly he frowned. "Okay, come out," the scientist growled angrily, and the Masqueraider emerged from the shadowed corner. Qilby remembered that he had three masks and now had this looking like a skull with fangs and mane of colorful feathers. The masked man didn't have a coat to protect him from the cold. It looked like He did not even feel the effect of the negative temperature. Qilby couldn't see his eyes, but he knew that the Masqueraider was staring at him intensely. Wonderful, now I have a nanny, the Eliatrop thought angrily, and began studying the Count's scientific projects. ------------------ After an hour, an hour and half later Echo decided to check what's with Yaga. She locked up all the drawers in her office and went down several floors below. The first thing that disturbed her was a new door that was balanced from hinges and thrown out, into the corridor. Among its broken remains unconscious Kali was laying. The longitudinal wounds on her forearms were slowly healed*. Disturbed Echo slipped into the room, which she quickly regretted. The training room looked like after a cataclysm; equipment and mannequins shattered, on the walls and floor appeared traces of burns (from where?). Ush lay in the corner, stuck under the remains of training dummies. Toxine was entangled in the net and tried to free herself, cursing furiously. And Yaga, half lying, twisted the hands of kneeling young Feca back holding his wrists and pinning the toes of her feet between his shoulderblades. "I, fuckin', love this job!" She laughed loud and cheerfully, ignoring Echo's face expression.

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

* I have such theory: if this liquid which Sacrier warriors use is called "Sacrier's Blood", then maybe her daughter, Kali can control her own blood? Just a theory. Nothing more.

[shintorikhazumi]

Eight Years Overdue

A/N: Calling out Ou Miyuki-san? Miyuki-chan? Miyuki! sHeyo! Remember our little chat last time? A couple of weeks ago, I think? When I asked for your favorite pairing and such?

Well…

SURPRISE!

Ok… I sure hope you are… like pleasantly surprised… are you?

Anyways, this is my way of thanking you and since I enjoy interacting a lot with you, I guess I just felt like doing this… hehe.

This is a gift to a friend, hehehehe... from FF.net sooo.. well... i guess I’d share it here  too in case there are HonoKoto LL! fans.

Hope you like it and… enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

Eight Years Overdue: Start!

"A date to the get-together, huh…"

It was a quiet afternoon in the TV station, and few workers were out lounging in the lobbies of the massive production company, most having their jobs to do, be it paperwork or appearances, or recordings.

One of these workers was seated by the window, a soda can in hand, since she was not exactly a believer in coffee, and sugar was the way to get energetic, was her opinion. Also she couldn't stand the taste.

The head of ginger hair was tussled up from all the scratching and deep thinking inside that head.

"That's too hard." She grumbled.

Kousaka Honoka weighed her options. Ignore all these stifling thoughts, or maybe just do as they said, something more-or-less likely.

The reason behind her current predicament was maybe due to the fact that it had been ten years since she had graduated highschool, and now at the age of twenty-seven, she was the 'single-and-contented' type.

Working as one of Japan's most known public figures, especially in the music industry, Honoka was pretty well off, also their home's shop, Homura had business booming as of the past decade, where she did part-time baking.

She had days off during the weekend, then recordings and producer-ish work for idols during weekdays, also doing some training for the newer talents, and being a judge during auditions.

She lived in her humble apartment, surrounded by various musical items and was comfortable with her partner, Sally, a german shepherd, which was also a male.

It was the perfect living for her-

…And now her peaceful life had been intruded upon by a small piece of paper that simply said 'Invitation'.

Reaching into her pocket, she felt for the tiny rough surface, pulling the envelope out and opening it, unfolding the letter.

Mika, one of her old highschool friends had sent it, passing on the message that their batch would be having a reunion, organized by her and the other two who were always with her.

Of course, the first emotion the successful woman had felt was of utter excitement and joy, really wanting to meet all her classmates and friends again since she had found herself far too busy, heck, the last friend she's seen was Umi and that was over two months ago, and they pretty much worked in the same company!

-The difference being their fields, Umi composing and writing, and sometimes singing music, while also producing it.

Now everything would have been perfectly fine, except maybe the fact that at the bottom, written in huge letters as to not be missed, were the words-

Bring a Partner!

It was quite the phenomenon, how three words could leave such a person stupefied beyond her own belief.

She was a busy person, Honoka. So it was only reasonable that she had yet to 'meet up' with anyone like that, for dates and such, and she had never really been… interested.

Now that she thought about it, the last time she showed to have any form of romantic concern towards anyone was when-

"Kousaka-sama, your next conference is starting in barely ten minutes. Please head to the main meeting room right away."

The voice made her jump out of thought, and coincidentally, out of her chair, a hand over her heart at the sudden sound.

"S-sorry to have scared you, I didn't realize how deep in thought you were, Ma'am. Really I am sor-"

"It's fine." Honoka replied with a smile, placing a hand on her secretary's shoulder. "If it wasn't intentional, then no hard feelings." She reassured with a squeeze, thanking the woman and walking out of the lobby, still with her soda in hand.

Maybe the boring meeting would drown out these bothersome worries.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Needless to say, the meeting was both boring and useless.

Not only did it bore her to death, it gave her more of a chance to consider her problems, all of the things said there going in one ear and out the other, her outward interactions all automatic reactions.

Her secretary-slash-manager took her home for the day, telling her to get enough rest, eat well and stay healthy, the usual, though with just a touch more concern, noticing the disheveled state of her boss.

The girl wished her luck before driving off in the eve.

Washing up and wearing some fresh clothes, Honoka went out of her room and fixed herself a meal, eating slowly to the sound of a droning television, news of the latest single she, herself had a hand in creating, which was only proven by the fact that her face was practically plastered on the screen.

She sighed, not in the mood to be proud of another achievement, and grabbed the remote, proceeding to flip through the channels to find something that would at least amuse her.

Passing a certain channel, she quickly turned up the volume. Realizing it was one of those fashion channels, she decided it couldn't hurt to indulge a bit in something a bit different for a change, not having any problems with the foreign station.

She had no clue as to why she felt compelled to watch this and be so invested in the show despite not having any deeper love or anything of the sort for fashion, but the way the models wore the clothes as they went down the runway, displaying such eye-catching material, Honoka wondered where she had seen that particular style before. Almost like the feeling of nostalgia-

"And that was the latest line of Paris' most sought out Asian designer, with the possibly up and coming reign of fashion, Miss Kotori Minami!" The television announcer spoke with high-tension in his voice and everything clicked for the ginger.

Of course. No design of clothes would ever be as interesting as the ones with the style she had worn herself all those years ago, in a little clubroom, surrounded by posters of japanese idols and filled with a group of nine girls dreaming a dream together.

"What can we anticipate from you in the upcoming summer line?" The male voice brought Honoka from her reminiscing back to full attention on the show.

"A lot. But I prefer to keep it a surprise from all of you. I hope you will all continue to support my works!" The lady on the screen gave a wave to the camera, smiling and Honoka remembered just how beautiful a sight that was.

"By the way, if you don't mind me asking, we have heard that Miss Minami is planning an overseas vacation?"

"Of course! I will be visiting my home in Japan for about a month so I'm looking forward to it. Though I assure you my new line will be out on time without setbacks."

The way she was still considering all her customers reminded Honoka of just how kind the girl was, always putting other's needs or feelings first, something that caused a problem that escalated quite dangerously between them.

"We will be eagerly waiting. Please do enjoy your tri-"

Honoka cursed as everything was suddenly black, the power going out for a few minutes as it switched to the back-up generators.

Speaking of which, now that she thought about everything she saw… Kotori? On a Vacation? To Japan?

Those few string of thoughts made her giddy, and now she prayed that hopefully they'd have a chance to meet up. But also, she felt… scared, anxious, and also wished with a small part of her being that they would not meet.

Why?

Kotori had actually left two years after their graduation, being offered once again a full-time scholarship abroad, and with nothing else, no events or other priorities to hold her back, there was no reason to refuse.

Eight years of being away, and out of that time five years of no connection whatsoever between the two, which was understandable to a certain degree since they were both famous and busy personnel. The only way it would be seen as unreasonable was because they were best friends and they had not found any time to communicate with each other.

"Kotori, huh."

And now the ginger was left to wonder on those thoughts, lying on her bed, the lights all out, as she drifted into sleep, giving into the exhaustion and indulging herself in memories that transformed into dreams.

She felt annoyed at herself that night, for dreaming such things. For thinking such a thought.

For some reason, I pray to god I won't meet Kotori… ever.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Kotori flipped through the pages of her planner one last time, trying to check and review he schedule and ensuring that she had tied up all lose ends before she went on her trip. It would at least be three weeks to a month after all, and she did not fancy the idea of being swamped with work once she gets back.

As she landed on the current month's page, she picked up the fancy envelope inserted between the pages, brushing her fingers over it lightly, before opening it and taking out the clean cut paper with its calligraphic words of invitation.

She sighed at the words written boldly at the end of the page.

Bring a Partner!

"As if I could." She mumbled to herself.

How in the world was she supposed to fulfill such demanding words, they were practically a requirement, weren't they?

She had busied herself, throwing her soul into her work after accepting a once-in-a-lifetime internship at one of the hardest to please fashion schools in Paris, and not once had she looked back at the concept of romance.

Though she admitted, once upon a time, she had taken a peek into such feelings.

No, she was lying if she said it was but a peek.

She tripped and fell. Hard. Into those feelings and indulged herself a while in them.

But those feelings were long buried in herself… they were because the person they had been directed to, she had let Kotori go. And Kotori had left her, no regrets and no second thoughts for both parties.

When Kotori chose her scholarship and left everything behind, she knew those feelings had to be cast aside.

And she knew they both knew.

That was the reason Honoka held back on stopping her this time.

Their feelings overlapped, but did not meld together.

So Kotori left. Honoka let her go.

No regrets at the moment it happened, but a mountain of resentment at their decision years after.

Kotori berated herself now. They hadn't communicated in so long, so why was he even thinking of that person. Sure they had been best friends, but did the ginger still see Kotori in such a light after this wall stood between them?

Now she needed a partner, she reminded herself. Going back to her first problem.

She stared at her plane ticket beside the envelope, and the ticket to the party.

There was only one person she wanted to go with, however, now that she was being honest with herself.

And that was her second problem.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

The next morning, with her bags packed, Kotori listened to her swinging door as it promptly clicked shut, keys jingling in her pocket as she buried them deep down, ready to head to her service car outside the ten floor condominium.

Designer shades on, and her favorite hat, the only sound in the dim hallways at four in the morning, were the clicking of her heels against the tiled floors and the ding of the elevator that would take her to the ground level.

With her bags taken by her private escort, and loaded in the trunk, She took a seat in the back of the black vehicle, securing herself as the aircon blew continuously on her face. She mumbled her destination to her driver as he nodded, obediently taking her to the airport for her seven-am flight.

She would not be late.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Flying long hours was truly an experience Kotori would not get used to. She had always slept through them since she tended to travel a lot to attend international fashion shows, or conferences. The long rides always gave her body an ache she'd battle once she landed, and jetlag had always been one of her enemies that she considered formidable.

Securing her baggage and checking out of the airport, Kotori exited the building doors and began craning her neck for any signs of similarly colored hair as hers, and a head of midnight blue hair to accompany it.

She had emailed them the night before to pick her up, and she was dying to see the woman who had raised her and loved her, and spotting two sets of amber eyes by some stroke of luck, her pace sped up as she practically jogged to their position behind the waiting rails, the luggage boy scurrying after her.

"Mom!" She cried in joy, hugging the older woman tightly, her embrace was still as warm as it always had been, and the daughter was grateful for that, very much so.

"I've missed you too, dear." She felt her hair being caressed gently as they finally parted, Kotori going through the gate as her blue-haired friend loaded her luggage in the trunk while she and her mom exchanged greetings.

"So how have you been? No trouble with school, or anything? Have the kids been nice?" With her mother's chuckle and the kiss to her forehead, she felt, all of a sudden she was just a girl worried for her mother's well-being, and not some famous top designer in the fashion world. She was just Minami Kotori of Japan.

And that in itself was a great reliever of the burden of duties she had drowned herself in these last few years.

"Yes, well… mishaps here and there can never be avoided, as you well know, especially with high school students, but… I love what I do, and I love my students all the same."

"No changes here, huh." Kotori laughed, feeling very nostalgic.

With just one look at the aging face before her, she hugged her mother once more, just because she missed the feeling of being wrapped inside the arms of such a kind and loving woman, any time, whether happy or sad, successful or down and troubled. This was an emotion she had been missing out on lately.

"And you're still my little bird."

"Mm… always."

A cough stole their attention, as a very sheepish Umi scratched the back of her head, regretfully breaking apart their moment, but for good reason.

"Sorry to ruin it all, but we really should get going. We aren't parked after all." She was referring to the fact that they had just turned on the caution signal as Umi pulled up beside the building curb as their car was parked as close as possible to the exit, Umi ready to head off, lest police come and deal with them.

Kotori returned the sheepish smile, appreciating the concern. "It's nice to see you too, Umi-chan." Umi gave her a playful glare, before guiding them to the car to leave this place already.

"Seatbelts?" She told them, not once looking back from the driver's seat.

"Mou, Umi-chan! You didn't even respond!"

The bluenette gave off her trademark soft, graceful laugh as she turned in her seat, giving Kotori a smile, eyes crinkling.

"Welcome Home, Kotori.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

"I'm home~!" The ash-blonde sang as she kicked her shoes in the hallway, before remembering her mother's opinion towards neatness, picking them up and putting them aside in an orderly manner, her bags all placed in the living room with Umi's generous help.

"Glad to see you remember your manners." Her mother grinned, as Kotori pouted, realizing she had been caught.

"Thank you again, Umi-chan." She told the woman who was coming out of her room, stretching her arms out after exerting her force, and getting the kinks out of her body after driving a long way.

"Don't mention it." Her best friend smiled, before a rumble came from her stomach, Kotori's following suit.

"Shall we have dinner then, girls?" Principal Minami offered, to which both nodded gratefully.

"So I hear you have a reunion soon? That is why you came home, right?" The eldest lady directed the question to the pair seated across from her, who before were consumed with the need to catch up and were caught off guard by the question.

"Y-yes, I guess." Kotori replied, curious why her mom raised that question, not that there was anything wrong with that.

"And I hear you need a date to be allowed in?"

Umi choked on her own saliva at the word, still having slight fear of romance and such, though she was trying to experiment a bit in that field as of late.

"That's… right… and why do you even know?" Kotori was incredulous. Her mom and her information-gleaning ways.

"Oh, the Kousaka mom. She keeps talking about how her daughter has been single forever!" The principal told, watching her daughter's reaction intently. She heard a rumor about something, so she wanted to confirm. "Really, you both work a lot. You kids are old enough for love, I mean look at Umi! Really, Honoka became such a serious girl."

The statement snapped Kotori's heart into pause before play was suddenly pressed, and she felt this unusual nerve-wracking queasiness at the mention of the name. Cold sweat seemed to drip down, and she could not look her mother in the eye, or even take staying in the same room as memories flashed by.

"Kotori? Darling, are you okay?" Her mom asked, albeit fully knowing the answer.

"I think I feel tired. May I be excused?"

Kotori felt a weird churning in her stomach, anxiousness? Not wanting to hear the name? It wasn't as though they left on bad terms, but rather, they separated on unfinished terms, thoughts and feelings not communicated, not spoken. And they did not acknowledge it, not once. Their cut in communication only made them drift further apart, and now, Kotori was left to wonder where they stood. All she knew was that she wanted to empty all the contents of her stomach into the toilet and sleep all the thoughts off.

"Kotori?" Her mom did not give permission, rather returned a question. She tried to drop the bomb. "Have you and Honoka ever kept in touch?"

The little bird felt her mouth run dry, desperately clawing her mind for answers. False if need be.

"We-"

-Have, Kotori wanted to reply, but she couldn't, even if it was partly true… for the first three years only, though.

Kotori tried to remember how it all came to a cut in ties.

The first year, it was a regular keeping in touch, every day, or every other day at least, they'd do video calls or send emails. Half a year later, Kotori found it reduced to a monthly check up on each other. During the second year, it was at least twice every season. On their third year, it was only whenever they both managed to catch one another, and even then, all they ever talked about was how the other was, work, no catching up, no deep personal info, no sharing… no love.

Nothing.

Nothing more to retie their bonds.

And the rope just severed.

"So it was true." Umi's disappointed voice pulled Kotori out of her reverie, as her eyes shakily met Umi's interrogative ones, the atmosphere around the dinner table suddenly tense and serious. "Kotori… What happened?" The archer demanded some answer, and she was going to get it one way or another.

She had caught on to what Kotori's mother was going on about, after all, almost everyone close to them knew, or discovered at some point that Honoka and Kotori were in love, but suddenly just… weren't exactly… in a healthy state of love.

That might have been because they loved too much and cared too much… and now… there was nothing much.

"What are you talking about, Umi-chan?" Kotori did that laugh that she usually did when she was lying or nervous. She willed herself to be ignorant. "What do you mean, what happened? Nothing happened." She tried to persuade the unmovable.

"What. Happened."

The ash-gray stylist sucked in a breath, swallowing the lump in her throat, and meeting Umi's gaze head on. Suddenly, she felt the bile rise in her stomach.

"I don't… know." She managed to get out, before she had to dash to the comfort room to empty out all the horrible things bouncing against her insides and driving her head insane.

"Are you okay?" Umi asked, rubbing circles on Kotori's back after giving chase, the mother staring worriedly by the doorway.

"I'm fine. Just tired." She waved them off. "Jetlag." She reasoned feebly as she tried to get up and head to her room, forgetting the need to wash up, and just needing to lie down before her knees gave up on her.

"Ko-"

"Good night. Thanks."

Shutting the door behind her, Kotori tasted the foul, bitterness of vomit still lingering on her tongue. She knew her breath would be hell tomorrow, as well as her taste buds, but she had no choice right now, the insistent throbbing of her temples making it hard.

Had stressed really accumulated that much for her?

With hazy eyes, she managed to find her bed, lie down somewhat, before giving in to the darkness and passing out.

She couldn't think anymore.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

She was at work when Umi had called. Very worried.

In turn, it made Honoka also very worried, wondering what the problem was since Umi rarely called during work hours unless it was an absolute emergency that required top priority.

"Hello?"

"Kotori. I want answers from you both."

Honoka was now very confused, and very concerned.

"What about Kotori? Why? Is she back?" She questioned, that slight need hinted in her voice. Kotori back was both good and bad news, the latter, Honoka didn't understand the reasons behind.

"She's back and… I'm wondering…"

"What?" Honoka felt that something was wrong. "Is she sick? Do you need me to visit? Can I see her?" The ginger didn't care for ther reasons behind her negativity anymore. She was now thrown into frenzied work to finish as fast as she could now so that she could address her worries. "Can I come over? I'll be right there. I'm getting out of work early so can you let me in? You're at her house, I know, she wouldn't go to yours if she just came home. I'm heading over?"

"Can you?"

What an odd question. Honoka thought this, but Umi's voice and words weren't really all that positive, almost as if she was angry at Honoka, or confused, or something else entirely.

"I don't think Kotori wants to see you."

And Honoka felt so horrible with those simple words, suddenly wondering why.

Why did they feel the same way?

Because she had to admit a part of her feared seeing the designer now. And if she were given choices, ashamedly, she's choose not to cross paths with Kotori yet in fear of not being ready.

But ready for what, exactly?

"Honoka."

"Yes?" She dropped all she was doing as she hung her coat on her arm, and grabbed her bag, ready to go tell her secretary she had urgent things to attend to. With how Umi was, she knew there was only one thing about to happen.

She guessed right, speaking the same words at the same time.

"We need to talk."

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Umi shut her phone.

She knew Honoka understood and soon they'd meet at the usual place they would to speak about problems, ever since Kotori had left.

Honoka would leave her office with no hesitation, drive her personal car, no need for her driver, possibly ignore traffic laws accidentally along the way, and they'd talk. As they always did.

The only difference this time, was that Umi felt this was a different problem altogether. And she wanted to understand all of it.

Why did Honoka and Kotori drift apart? Somehow, they did not want to meet each other. Umi could feel Honoka's conflict through the phone so she knew some answers would be given.

With a nod to Kotori's mother who had now sat beside Kotori on the bed, nursing her as she had a slight fever, Umi exited the room, taking her jacket and keys.

There was something wrong and she knew from a long time.

They would be having a talk.

Something eight years overdue.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Honoka drove fast as she could, legally as she could.

Umi wanted to talk. And against common belief, Honoka was now smarter than ever, she knew what it was.

However, she had no idea what to answer.

She cursed, hitting the brakes hard as she accidentally bit her tongue spotting that red light glow and a car swerved away in fear as it crossed in front of her, honking.

She let the countdown of the stop light help her collect her thoughts as she tried slowing her heart and the run of the car as best she could as it started up again.

Kotori.

It had been so long now, and to the confirmation of her fears, they did not want to see each other. It was like some unspoken agreement when they ceased communication. Like they should not try anything to get closer after so easily letting go.

And again, Honoka was puzzled.

What did she let go of? What did they give up? Why was she regretting things? Why did she want, and at the same time, not want to meet Kotori? Why was she worried, yet horribly relieved?

Why did she know, and not know at the same time?

All these thoughts, and some kind of emotion she had a hard time labeling were beginning to resurface as Honoka found herself parked in front of a very familiar building.

She locked her car and donned her coat, suddenly feeling a rush of cool air as she heard the chimes of the school bell signaling the end of the school day, end of club time, just a little around five o'clock.

She spotted a familiar silhouette waiting by the door, arms crossed. Honoka approached almost nervously, but carried herself with a experience-developed confidence-

… which shattered as she neared her best friend.

"We have things to discuss, as you know." Umi spoke, and Honoka showed her physical agreement, her head bobbing up and down. "And I take it, you've realized we've discussed this, but not in depth?"

Now Honoka was sure they were on the same page.

"This talk is eight years overdue." Honoka would finally be admitting it. What they would talk about. Umi beckoned her, gesturing with her head for them to proceed inside as rain clouds formed and they tread the empty hallways that echoed each word.

"Let's talk about yours, and Kotori's feelings."

'Your eight-year Rotting Love.'

A/N: What… was that… That was not supposed to happen. I wanted this to be fluff… Am I Stupid or something? Welp, there's still the continuation… Hope you enjoyed, Miyuki? Despite the… unexpected darkness?

~Shintori Khazumi

[crazily-creative]

🌞 c a c 🌵 i 🌞

Hello love bugs!

I feel like there has been this aroma of self-doubt, negativity, and many moments of sadness that lasts for weeks in the circle of people that I've had the chance to converse with. We as humans want instant gratification and speedy Wi-Fi. We forget that life does not happen on our terms sometimes, which is not helpful when we need it ASAP. Life happens on its own terms and timing! I love using this analogy; a pastry chef never frosts a cake right after taking it out of a 375-degree oven! Do you know why? The frosting will melt all over the place and will create a mess! She waits for the delicious cake to cool off to form a solid layer of perfection. The layer is easier to frost when it is a cool hard surface. The moments of waiting for it to cool off saved her time, money, and energy believe it or not. If she rushed the decorating process, the frosting would have melted, the cake would have turned into crumbles try to “clean” it, and she would have to start all over again, wasting another possibly two hours whereas she could have made another.  Time takes Time peeps! Speaking of time I met a wise cactus that whispered brilliant advice into my ear.

Last weekend I went on an adventure around Old Town San Diego with my family, really to get away from the naughty heat in El Cajon. It is not as nasty as the Arizona heat, but it was pretty hell like! Old town was filled with beautiful cacti in all different shapes and sizes. Each and every one of the bushes had lover’s names beautifully and carefully engraved in them. Sadly I couldn't get the image of the Cacti screaming for their lives, because hello you’re engraving their flesh people! I was in awe over the vibrant green they were in the gross heat and how well they held their shape and also how they were located in calm and relaxing areas all over Old Town.  

I enjoy taking everyday experiences and adding wisdom into the memory. As you read on you will find six simple steps to live your life like a cactus. I bring these words with love and a push to guide you into a loving path to assist with any internal hardship or confusion going on right now in your life.

 Well here it goes…

Advice from a Cactus:

1) Get plenty of sunshine. 

Just as the Cacti stand tall and high basking in the beautiful sunshine, us humans need that sunshine as well. The best way to revamp your energy is to surround yourself with nature and positive people. Go for a hike, jog around a park, or visit the local botanical garden in your area. Eat health, drink a lot of water and go out and play! Anything to keep your mind free from habits of touching technology, recharge your lungs, and to free you mind from any stored chaos. As for the positive people, you should be yourself around them without feeling judged or criticized each second. They should support you, provide guidance when you need it and give you endless love.

2) Accentuate your strong points. 

The Cacti have points that can be spotted miles away. It’s tough skin keeps it safe and makes a clear point to what it stands for! Focus on what you stand for and go aver what you love. Do not allow people to get in the way of what you truly desire because they have limitations in their minds of what they can only do. You are NOT them, and they are NOT you! Ladies and gents if you have a passion or are extremely talented in one particular skill spend your life perfecting it, please, please, and I repeat PLEASE do not spend your time on trying to fit in or making others happy. Some people are takers and they will take until you break. Have a clear mind of what you want and the universe will follow.

3) Be patient through the dry spells. 

OHHHH....those dry spells will have you in a dizzy chaotic never-ending twirl. Yes being patient is definitely easier said than done, but I promise that Allah will never let us down. What is meant for your will find it's way; your dream job, your dream husband/wife, or whatever goals you have written in detail on your bucket list. You have to be patient to stay sane. If your emotional and mental energy is on a constant mood of jumping from here to here to there, you will eventually ware yourself out! This is coming from a night owl that was running on two hours of sleep for two and half years, with NO coffee intake! My oh my it takes a toll on your body and mental health. You have to remain focused on the bigger picture and I guarantee the puzzle pieces will connect, finically too. Just keep moving forward. If you fall YOU have to get back up again! Rest if you must, but do not allow the dryness get to you!

4) Conserve your resources. 

Save, save and SAVE some more. Money comes and goes, but do not allow it to over power your mind in any selfish ways. Just as you gained it you are able to lose it. Stay humble. Use it wisely. A lot of my money goes towards my art supplies and fabric, I have an addiction, which I am changing into spending on experiences rather than materialize.  Take advantage of the resource that is all around throughout your city. Use websites, such as: EBay, Etsy, Tumbler, IG, FB, SC, Amazon, OfferUP, and Craigslist to find good deals. I guarantee if you ask for what you need you will receive it! For example, a quick update on your Facebook status, asking for whatever you need, there will be at least two people that will kindly let you barrow or provide advise. If you do receive what you need remember to pay it forward, for extra good deed points with the all mighty!

5) Wait for your time to BLOOM! 

 I know how exhausting waiting can be! I know you are tired, you work really hard, and you are at the point of possibility giving in. Please do not give in or give up! WAIT your turn, yes waiting is a pain. Now I do not mean sit on your couch and watch the time go, NOPE not at all! I mean continue to work in silence and I know your hard work will go noticed when the time is right. It has happened to me so many times, and I am utterly blessed and humbled by it!  I've come to realize that rushing and speeding through ideas, or situations only leads to double the trouble. You will have to continue to do what you are doing. The job you have now can bring remarkable opportunities and connections. Which may eventually lead you into a better pathway. As soon as you bloom in your capabilities more doors will open, and the cycle will repeat and repeat!

6) Stay Sharp!

DO NOT be a prick! (of course I mean this in a respectful manner, be and stay HUMBLE). Stay sharp with your mindset and where you want to go. Do not allow others to take advantage of you. Many times when someone hurts us we become hermits and it may lead us into ignoring the blessings that already are surrounding us. We were okay before they came into our lives and we have grown as they left our lives. Another example, would be something I recently went through. I have this passion of creating things with my hands and someone close to me has that talent as well. We are both creative and love what we do. But one day I shared a design idea and the following week she created it. I was heart broken and pissed off! NO, I do not have the right to stop anyone from expressing his or her creativity. I encourage 10,000,000%, but per our conversation and her doing that really made me frustrated. I am still learning to properly confront others. I think she new what she did, due to this strange stare she shared with me. But, within this experience I have learned to never share your ideas, just make them happen. Be aware of your surroundings and if you are in a creative field make sure you know what type of people you work with. Never stop questioning, reading, and staying up to date with new cool tech gadgets in forming a better future better your future. Try new things and travel to broaden your horizon.

 All in all, this cactus had a lot to share. They had love and oxygen, but mostly words of wisdom. I truly hope these steps help you and allow you to focus on what matters to you the most. We are human and you must be gentle and love yourself, yes even on the poopy days, It will take you far to stand tall! Let me know what you think? Where these six steps helpful? I would love to know your what your experiences have been. Please feel free to share your experiences below.

 L ❤ve Always,

Sharm

  Vibrant Erection

[thesinglesjukebox]

STEVE AOKI & LOUIS TOMLINSON - JUST HOLD ON [3.62] Maybe we'll be happier with a different One Direction member...

Katherine St Asaph: It begins: the X Factor after X Factor, i.e. the competition for which member of One Direction makes the best EDM vocalist. Rock is dead, we're told, and that whole Mind of Mine tangent is receding into its one week of 2016; what else are these celebrities to do? Louis has a decent shot at second-best depending on the rest of the bunch, but "Just Hold On" is hardly a bravura turn and Steve Aoki doesn't give him a banger to compensate. [5]

Jonathan Bradley: Louis Tomlinson was the weakest singer and canniest member of One Direction, so it maybe should not be entirely surprising that he proves himself to be a deft hook singer on this collaboration with Steve Aoki. He should look for a better creative partner: Aoki only provides technical gloss to the stadium EDM sound towards which One Direction was ill-advisingly heading in its final Zayn-less days. Unlike the enervated sex jams Zayn has been pushing, Tomlinson has maintained his old band's interest in rousing inclusion. Without fanbase or bandmates beside him, however, the effect is diminished. [4]

Olivia Rafferty: I don't know if Louis Tomlinson ever really had the vocal chops or the personality to hold his own as a solo artist. In terms of his voice, it has such a light timbre that it never manages to offer any depth or emotion to what he's singing. As for the rest, I'd really like to see what he offers the world apart from being able to jump up and down in a white t-shirt and have fake babies. And this track doesn't do that for me. In terms of a post-1D debut, both Zayn and Niall did a bit of "this is me" in their new songs: Zayn solidifying a Bad Boy image while grabbing Gigi Hadid's hips in "Pillowtalk," and Niall quietly reinforcing his image as the Golden-Hearted Irish Boy with an acoustic number. What does Louis's debut communicate about his image, now that he's free from those boyband shackles to truly be his self? "Just Hold On" is filled with run-of-the-mill idioms and imageries, opening and closing chapters, rising and falling suns, all saturated with a "woah oh" refrain that hits you over the head like a blunt hammer. All suspicions confirmed: Tomlinson doesn't have what it takes to stand alone. [3]

Scott Mildenhall: This is about as good as could be hoped from a Louis Tomlinson solo single. For one thing, the connotations of the phrase "Louis Tomlinson solo single" were nebulous at best, but he's found a happy medium between a banger and balladry that he's able to pull off. With or without the poignance of biography, the lyrics are at the more touching end of generic, and it's also the closest "Atemlos" will come to being a hit outside Central Europe, which is a boon in itself. [7]

Alfred Soto: Tomlinson's whinny suits electronic tracks better than expected, but in 2017 pop electronic tracks proceed as expected, or even below expectations. [3]

Andy Hutchins: The cover art for "Just Hold On" is Steve Aoki and Louis Tomlinson in silhouette, a perfect illustration of this pale imitation of so many better EDM-pop songs. [3]

Ramzi Awn: For all its good intents, "Just Hold On" employs the infamous Kesha "oh" stutter to far lesser effect than Zayn and Taylor Swift on this Bieberesque and boring single. [3]

Megan Harrington: Not quite a knockoff, but the song version of one of those drinking and painting classes where everyone has two glasses of wine and creates a semblance of Starry Night. "Just Hold On" isn't "Glad You Came," it's your very own "Glad You Came." [4]

Mo Kim: fun.'s gang vocals in one hand and The Wanted's beats (and Auto-Tune) in the other, Louis Tomlinson holds onto these Spotify Top 50 tropes with shameless professionalism and little else. Even my usual generosity towards Good Feelings Songs For Hard Times shrivels at the feet of such penetrating insights as "the sun goes down and it comes back up." [3]

Jessica Doyle: Some nights I stay up, cashing in my bad luck. Some nights I put the book down after the chapter ends and never pick it up again -- only I don't, because either the book's not worth finishing and I abandon it regardless of the chapter, or I want to know what happens next. Some nights I resent songs where the lyricists don't seem to have thought through their own banalities. Some nights I wonder if the invocation of "Glad You Came" is deliberate -- if so, it was a miscalculation: I'll take the leering thuds of "take you by the hand/hand you another drink" over this any damn day. Night. Whatever. [2]

Maxwell Cavaseno: Look, I'm not even capable of savaging a kid making a song inspired by his mother's passing. Its tasteful in how it tries to present a sense of optimism that's universal in the wake of loneliness and separation, that isn't nearly as self-involved as it reflects on an inability to have someone "there" for you. If anything, I just wish Aoki could've perhaps gone for something more moderate, not trying to achieve this weird sense of mid-level banger to uplift, but anything else would betray the goals of being so anthemic and positive. Tomlinson's voice is what it is, but there's some charm in someone trying so hard just to convey with his words rather than vocal gestures. [5]

Joshua Copperman: Why do so many pieces of music have this same exact melody?? In fact, every melody in this thing seems taken from another song: the pre-chorus sounds like the "everyone else in the room can see it..." section from "What Makes You Beautiful," the chorus is literally "Glad You Came," and the drop is, erm, "Cecelia." Wait, what's that? It's about his mom dying of leukemia? Oh gosh. Well, um, it's satisfying to hear in a way that the other two songs covered today decidedly aren't. And not dissimilar to his (former?) bandmate's "This Town," Louis sounds genuine, which makes sense given the subject matter. If writing, recording, then performing this on X Factor was cathartic in some shape or form, then it's difficult to judge this too harshly. Needless to say, that doesn't make it a good song, but if it does its job, it can't be a bad one. [5]

Thomas Inskeep: I couldn't have picked Tomlinson out of the 1D lineup if you'd paid me, but based on "Just Hold On," he sounds like Justin Bieber's less interesting little brother. (Yeah, I initially didn't think that was plausible, either, but there you go.) Fittingly, Aoki's snooze of a track comes off as a xerox of a xerox of a xerox of a Major Lazer/DJ Snake/Diplo/[insert pop-leaning EDM DJ here] track. Which doesn't surprise me in the least, because I've proudly been an Aoki hater since 2007. Sometimes, you really do get what you pay for. [0]

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