#like im not able to draw on it even more? and i spent the whole day trying to get used to it but its just not as good?? and then when i went

[dandyshucks]

one more day... going to be home by the end of the day tomorrow if all goes well... i am ready to start chewing on cement to be perfectly honest

[zoppzoop]

GAAHAHHHHH

[moonchildstyles]

oleander

oleander part one: nothing could draw y/n in the way harry could

wordcount: 11.7k+

cw: this leans into some darker themes including a description of a dead body, mentions of a parent who has passed away, some panic attack descriptions, and just in general some doom and gloom vibes! but I promise this is a love story im just doing something diferent!

—————

(Y/N)'s eyes followed the immaculately dressed figure floating through the shop. Barred from getting closer with the counter in front of her, she could only watch as he made his way through the small apothecary. He never glanced in her direction, though she doubted he was unaware of her eyes on him. 

Dried herbs hung around his head like a dreary halo, the muted tones falling in line with the rich brown of his hair. He was tall enough that he just barely grazed the line of lavender sprigs strung up and dehydrating above his head. His coat was of a deep green velvet, tailored to show off the broad of his shoulders and strength of his arms. The matching cravat around his neck stood out starkly against the white shirt under his grey waistcoat, his skin appearing almost as pale as the starchy collar standing stiff against his throat. She wished that he would turn around for just a second; she wanted to see his eyes. Were they really as dark as she remembered, or had the town's gossip altered her memory? 

As if hearing her thoughts, he quickly picked his head up and made to turn and match her gaze. She urgently dropped her eyes to her hands, pretending as if she had been preoccupied the whole time by the bundles of sage she was meant to be tying. Now her wishes turned to that of hoping he didn't catch her staring. She was sure he got enough of that as is when he bothered to venture down to their small village; he didn't need any more when he was simply trying to shop. 

Forcing herself to keep her eyes down, (Y/N) tried to forget the Count's presence (was he even a Count? She wasn't sure, but that was what she had heard the women at church calling him, and no one seemed to object). She hoped he couldn't hear the sound of her heart as easily as she could, the beats pounding through her ears just from the fact she knew he was traipsing around her father's shop. Casting her gaze out the small window situated by the collection counter, she tried to see past the thick fog that had gathered that morning and done little to dissipate through the hours. If not for the fact she had lived here all her life, she would have had problems navigating through the mist. She wondered how someone like the Count fared under these conditions. He barely left that castle of his, how did he or his footmen know where they were going this time of year?

Granting herself a single peek in his direction, she saw he had gone back to shopping. He moved so silently, she wondered how he was able to cross the apothecary so vastly without a single footstep being heard. She watched as he brought bundles of herbs to his nose, taking in the heady scent. He always did this, she noticed. He always looked around until he found the strongest smelling bundles. 

Truthfully, to (Y/N), all the bundles smelled the same. She couldn't notice if one sprig of lavender smelled richer than another, but maybe he knew something she didn't. It wouldn't surprise her if he spent his young years studying herbs and reading books about all of the healing plants, or whatever it was that young gentlemen did in their formative years.

Though it was a hard task to pull her eyes away from him, (Y/N) made the effort to do so. Her father really would be upset if she didn't tie up all these bundles before sundown; he barely liked her working at the apothecary as is, he didn't need any other reason to boot her from the counter.

With her eyes trained on her fingers and the clumsy bows she was tying out of twine, (Y/N) practically jumped out of her skin when she caught movement from the corner of her eye. Pale hands dropped bundles of herbs on the counter, just barely in her line of sight. Her breathing stuck in her throat when she whipped her head up, finding the Count looking at her with his dark eyes. 

She hadn't misremembered, it appeared. His eyes really were almost black, just barely tinted a forest green on the edges—if the forest in question was being spotted in the pitch of night, only a sliver of the moon and stars above allowing any distinction.

Her heart jumped in her throat, running faster than it had any reason to when their eyes met. She forced herself to swallow it down.

"I'm sorry, sir," she muttered, unable to pull her gaze away from his even if she instinctively wanted to look anywhere else. "Did you find all you were looking for?" 

"I did, yes." His voice was a lulling rumble, rounded and heady as if the goal was to lure her nearer. If not for the table separating them, she would have fallen for it.

Offering a quiet smile, she gave him a polite nod. 

No other words were exchange, as per usual for his visits. The Count wasn't much for conversation and idle chatter like the rest of the village. Instead, she could feel him watching her as she counted up his herbs and the price of each bundle. 

He was buying the same ones he always did: winter savory (he switched to chamomile when out of season), tobacco, and lavender. 

The buds together created a confusing scent, adding to the mishmash of what the apothecary already was. She couldn't imagine how he would put these three together in any space of that castle, the mixture too aggressive. 

Though she tried her best to concentrate on only the herbs, (Y/N) was too aware of the static of his presence. She wondered what he thought when he came down to the village, what he thought when he interacted with people like her. He was always so stoic. He never gave anything away, though that didn't stop the village gossip from running wild about him.

Swallowing around her dry throat, heartbeat bubbling against her ribs, she matched his gaze. The pricing for his bounty came out on buzzing lips, "Sixteen shillings please, sir." 

He didn't bat an eyelash at the price despite it being the biggest single purchase her father's apothecary would see until the next time he ventured down. Instead, he looked at her with his dark eyes and a tic in his jaw. He was unbearably handsome, made of cut edges and smooth planes, but he always looked at her as if he were angry and working to bury it down. She could never figure out why or what exactly made his nostrils flare or his jaw tight when he spoke to her, but she hoped she wasn't the only one he reacted to like this. 

His hands moved quickly, pulling out a small pouch of tinkling coins before he plucked out the exact amount for her. For a moment, she could see bank notes tucked inside the pouch as well. While she wasn't surprised that someone like him would have that kind of wealth, she had never seen it before with her own eyes. 

Passing off the change to her, his pale fingers grazed her open palm. Goosebumps immediately raised across her skin, his touch feeling as if he had been standing in the dawn's dew for hours, allowing the chill to cling to his skin and leach away all hope for warmth. The graze was quick, barely a heartbeat long, but she swore she could feel the lingering touch for moments after. Maybe he really did have a hard time navigating the village when the fog was this thick, having traveled in winding routes and wrong turns for so long he still hadn't been able to heat up even after spending time in the shop. 

Flicking her gaze up to his on instinct, she saw he was looking at the swatches of skin exposed from her dress, eyeing the goosebumps he had plucked up on accident. 

(Y/N) cleared her throat, nothing more than a reminder to herself to keep professional and not to gawk at the man. She placed the change in the small cup underneath the collection counter before reaching for his herbs of choice. A length of twine was used to tie up his product, ensuring he didn't lose anything on his way back home. 

"Thank you," he muttered once she passed them back, their skin no longer grazing this time. 

"Have a pleasant journey back home," she chirped, her voice decidedly pleasant against the bubbling she was feeling inside, "Stay warm." 

The Count didn't give any kind of reaction to her before he was leaving the shop in a flourish. Taking advantage of the window at her disposal, she watched as he ventured out into the fog. The mist mingled around him, making him appear as if he were a ghost—one with the Earth-bound clouds. She was only vaguely aware of the way her body heat ticked up some now that he had left. 

Though she could hear the sound of footsteps descending the stairs that led up to their home a floor above, (Y/N)'s head was outside the shop and away from her father. She didn't turn even when she could tell he had made it to the landing. He was used to it by now, she knew. Her head was always miles away as far as he was concerned—thinking too big for the village with daydreams that were only going to hurt her in the long run. 

The air around her shifted, telling her that her father was just behind her, likely watching to see what had caught her attention this time. 

"Is that Harry?" he grumbled, spitting out the name while dismissing the faux-title since they were alone. 

Her father didn't much like the Count—Harry, as he bitterly spat out. (Y/N) was never sure what precisely had set off her father's distaste for the man, just knowing that he thought Harry to be something of a boogeyman against the village. He didn't even go to church, her father regularly complained. What kind of man was he if he couldn't even bother to trudge down from his palace to spend some time with God, even if it was in the presence of commoners? 

(Y/N) never really minded. Though she'd never tell her father, church was boring. She couldn't blame Harry—the Count, whatever she was supposed to call him—for skipping out. Especially with the peeks at the castle she could garner if she trekked through the woods far enough. She wouldn't want to leave that place for anything. 

Nonetheless, (Y/N) answered with a soft, "Yes." Her eyes were still locked on the form of him she could barely make out through the mist. 

A grunt of disapproval left her father's lips. She didn't have to look at him to know that he had his arms crossed over his chest. "Are you okay?" 

It was when he settled a hand on her shoulder that she snapped out of her staring. 

"Yes, I'm well," she answered as placidly as possible when she turned to face him. She didn't want to show just how affected she was by the Count. Her father would do more than just grunt and disapprove if he knew just how drawn to the man as she was. 

He peered through the window, his eyes surely finding the one dark figure filtering through the fog. His brows slanted into harsh slashes over his eyes. "From now on, I want you to find me when he comes in, and I will take over. I do not want him talking with you." 

Her fingertips buzzed at the new instructions, matching the kickstart to her heartbeats. As much as she heard her father's concerns, and had listened in to all the of the stories and webs spun about this man, those did little to deter her interest in Harry or quell the bubbling in her chest every time she saw him step inside the apothecary. 

"I can handle him, father," she countered, trying to sound as uninterested as possible while attempting to hold her ground, "We barely talk when he comes in, anyway." 

The creases between his brows only deepened when he matched her gaze. "I do not want you becoming one of his victims, (Y/N)."

Her lips thinned at his words. "All of those stories are rubbish, father, you know that," she pressed, her words lighthearted despite the argument she was wagering by not immediately giving in, "Since when have we started listening to what Mary and Ethel have to say?" 

He didn't break any, even when she knew she was making a valid point to him. Gossip was prohibited according to the Bible, and yet he was citing stories she had heard the worst of gossipers weave?

There was no real reason for anyone to believe that Harry had anything to do with what had been going on just outside of the village, he was just easy to pin it on seeing as no one really knew him. She doubted any of them—including Ethel and Mary—could actually believe that he was the one behind the bodies that had been found in the woods, and the disappearances that had been added to the murder count. 

From what she'd heard, all signs pointed to animal attacks—wolves, or bears, or anything viscous. Though her stomach curdled at the thought, she couldn't see the Count being the one to rip out commoner's throats, to leave them crumpled in the brush with blood sinking into the earth. All of it was gossip and evil rumors that had not even a shred of truth inside.

"Still," her father stated, countering her argument, "There's something wrong with him, (Y/N)." 

Wrong was very far from threatening as far as she was concerned, especially when it came to Harry. Though, this most likely wasn't the time to share that opinion. She would keep her thoughts about him to herself, her own small secret against the rest of the village.

Harry didn't scare her like he did the rest of them, but they didn't need to know that. 

"Okay," she relented with a quiet nod, turning back to the collection cup so she could pass off the earnings to her father. "I will come grab you next time." 

(Y/N) wasn't sure if it was the additional shillings added to the cup or her pleasant agreement that had her father's features relaxing with a small smile on his lips, but she wasn't going to object.

Besides, she wasn't going to actually follow through on her promise. Harry was her favorite customer, even if she wouldn't admit it out loud. Her father would have to try harder to steer her clear of Harry.

—————

(Y/N) struggled with the strap of her shopping baskets, one hanging from her shoulder over her back with another dangling from her hand. They were stocked full and heavy, filled with everything her father requested that morning before she was sent off. She hadn't even realized how late she was running with her errands, how many items she had picked up and how heavy her bags were becoming until the sun had already gone down and her shoulder ached with the amount she had packed in. 

With the season's change, the sky was almost pitch by the time she made it to the edge of the village, the air chilled and crisp. Her father was going to have her head for making it back so late, but what could he have expected, really? He was the one that wrote the list, knowing half of the items were only available in the neighboring village. 

She hummed as she followed the path, giving herself some company and filling the silence. She hated being out this late—the dark scared her more than it probably should at her age. 

Her steps slowed as the bag hanging from her shoulder once again began to shift. No matter how hard she tried, it wouldn't stay put. She attempted to adjust the strap once more as she cautiously stepped over the path. 

With her attention placed elsewhere, she didn't notice the man in her way until she bumped directly into him. 

Her heart started in her chest, rattling against her ribs. She jumped back, whipping her head up with wide eyes. Before her stood the familiar dark-haired figure she had seen just a week prior, pursuing through the apothecary. 

Harry's cut features were pinched with a furrowed brow, his dark eyes trained on her. He was pale like a ghost compared to his dark clothing that blended in with the rest of the night. He reached out to steady her, baskets and all, when she tottered on the low heel of her boot. 

His touch singed her like snowflakes as he grasped at her bare arms. 

"H-Harry," she gasped, his name falling from her lips before she had a chance to collect her bearings. Her skin warmed when her brain caught up with herself; she'd never called him by his name before—or called to him at all now that she thought about it. "I am so s-sorry." 

What exactly she was apologizing for—using his name so brashly or running right into him—she wasn't sure, but she could cover for both, she figured. 

"It is alright," he murmured to her, his hands lingering on her biceps, "I didn't mean to frighten you. Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine, thank you," she asserted, "I wasn't looking where I was going. It has been a long day." 

Tipping his head, as if her word wasn't enough, Harry looked her over before dropping his hands from her arms and taking a calculated step back.  

"I'm sure it was," he said to her, his voice still a low whisper, "Is what why you are out so late?" 

(Y/N) eased into the conversation, despite knowing it was more than a little inappropriate to be alone with a man this late into the evening. She was flattered the Count wanted to speak to her at all, honestly. He always seemed so eager to flee from the apothecary and the rest of the village during his visits. In her dreamland, she liked to think that he actually enjoyed seeing her, this run-in being his opportunity to speak to her without all of the prying eyes trained on him. 

"Yes," she sighed, shifting the small basket on her aching wrist to the other, "I had to do the shopping today, and my father always requests things he knows I have to search all over for, so I've been busy since I woke up." 

Harry hummed at her words, his dark eyes seemingly lighting up with amusement at her trivial complaint. He eyed the heavy bags she was carrying before he met her eyes once more. "Would it be alright if I accompany you back home? It's too dark for a lady like yourself to be walking alone."

Biting back a smile, (Y/N) felt her blood warm under her skin. Someone of his status would know a lady when he looked at one, and (Y/N) definitely wasn't. He had to be teasing her. 

"I'm no lady," she explained, though she didn't sound that convincing under her smile, "But, I think I would really enjoy some company. Thank you." 

(Y/N) was well aware of what it would look like to be walked home by Harry at this time of night, alone on the path and unchaperoned. It would have been bad enough with any man, but seeing as this was the Count, she could only imagine the kinds of rumors Mary and Ethel would spin. The fluttering in her heart urged her to ignore those worries, though; Harry most likely knew better about societal standards than she, given their stations, and he had enough rumors swirling about him that he wouldn't want to add to if he could help it. If he wasn't worried, then she wouldn't either. 

"Lead the way," he said, smiling at her with dazzlingly perfect teeth. 

"Its not too far," she started, peering down the path to see the late night tavern still boiling with people and the small homes that decorated the mouth to the village. "It's just down that way," she told him, nodding her head in the direction they were to take. 

Before she went too far, she adjusted her grocery-laden baskets once more, barely holding back a wince at the weight on her shoulder. 

Harry still seemingly noticed even if she had tried to be discreet. He didn't immediately follow her steps back home. "Let me carry those for you. They can't be too comfortable after such a long day." 

While she was sure it was good form to decline his offer, feign strength she didn't have and continue on without complaint, she wasn't going to pass up on the offer to relieve the stress on her shoulder. 

"I would really appreciate that, actually," she sighed, shifting the basket off her shoulder in a haste, "Thank you." 

"No need to thank me," he answered simply, a pleasant lightness to his features as he took the strap from her hands. He slung it over his own shoulder with an ease (Y/N) could only dream to have. He didn't stop there, taking the smaller one from her wrist as well. 

She was free to roll her joints and feel circulation return to all limbs, more than gracious for her impromptu partner for the night. 

"You said it was this way, yes?" he prompted, starting down the path towards the edge of town where both the apothecary was as well as the flat above it where she and her father resided. 

"That way," (Y/N) affirmed with a smile, falling into step beside him as they started off through town. 

A careful silence fell between them, full of opportunities that twinkled like stars. This was her chance to know him, bask in his presence, learn who she had only gazed at from afar. Though every time she looked at him from the corner of her eye, she felt her throat dry. He was even more gorgeous under moonlight. 

"You know," he started first, unbraiding the silence, "I don't think I've ever seen you come out from behind that counter. I was starting to think you never left; like you were some kind of spirit attached with manning an apothecary at all hours." 

A bubbling peal of laughter felt from (Y/N)'s lips, her hands a fumbling bundle at her waist. "It feels that way, sometimes," she smiled, "But I promise I do have more hobbies than only drying herbs and counting coin." 

"And what might those be?" the Count pressed, looking down at her. In the low light, (Y/N) expected his eyes to look impossibly dark, more like coal than even in the daylight, but she found that ring of green to show more prominently now under the moon. 

"Um," she floundered, tearing her eyes away from his when she felt goosebumps raise over her skin and her heart bounce against her lungs, "I-I like to tend to our garden—for the shop." 

"I didn't know grow everything yourself. That must keep you rather busy." 

(Y/N) shrugged, "It can, depending on the season. But, I've figured it out through the years, and made it easier on me."

"You grow everything for your shop, then?" Coming up to a fork in the path, Harry paused, waiting for (Y/N) to take the first step in the right direction before he followed. 

"Most of it," she mused, an immediate list of their inventory coming to mind, "There's still a few things that I have to scavenge for, but I've become rather good at that as well."

"I don't doubt that," Harry smiled, the curl audible in his voice, "Was it your idea then to start the shop? Fill it with all the things you could grow?" 

"Oh, no," she declined, a furrow appearing in her brow, "My father and mother started the apothecary when my sister and I were still babies." 

"I don't think I've met your sister or mother," Harry shared, casting his gaze towards her once more, refractions of green shimmering in his irises.

While (Y/N) dreaded the subject, she couldn't exactly complain since she had been the one to bring them both up. Truthfully, it wasn't hard to talk about any more, it was harder to field the reactions of those around her when she shared the story. It was never easy to quell retroactive grief. 

"My sister married and moved to the country almost two years ago," she started easy, keeping her gaze forward, "My mother passed away when I was a child." 

When the Count didn't immediately answer, (Y/N) peeked up to find him looking at her differently than before. She didn't find pity swimming through his eyes, only sympathy. He looked at her like he knew her pain. 

"It is a hard thing, losing family," he murmured, shifting his gaze towards the sky, "But, it can only grow easier as time goes on." 

Tracing her eyes over his profile, through the immaculate stone-like chisel of his features and unblemished skin, she swore she could spot the same fine lines by his eyes and slight crease between his brows that she and her sister had sustained since their mother passed. 

She swallowed, hoping her next line of questioning didn't breach too far. "Have you lost family before?" 

"I have," he smiled, though it didn't completely reach those fine lines by his eyes, "It was a long time ago. It's funny how after a while, you can forget what it was like before." 

Though (Y/N) loved her mother dearly and cherished those memories she had with her, she had been without her for longer than she had been with her. She knew what Harry was talking about, exactly. Missing her mother was just a part of her now, and it wasn't anything she tired to push away or get over. She grew around the grief and held onto her mother in that space. 

"Exactly," she agreed, relieved to not be trying to quell someone else's grief and pity for her, "I've remembered her for longer than I actually knew her, but it does not upset me any more." 

"Good," Harry cemented, "She wouldn't want you to be bothered by her memory." 

Looking ahead, the town square was approaching with the town's tavern still full despite the late hour. That was the one place that could be bustling at any time of night, any day of the week. (Y/N) hoped no one would peer through the windows and catch her late night stroll. 

"I apologize for speaking so morbidly," (Y/N) laughed, though she didn't exactly feel guilty to be learning that much more about Harry, "Since you know more about me, I would like to know more about you." 

"I'm sure we could arrange that," he smiled that dazzling smile, "What would you like to know?" 

"I don't think I've ever seen you out in the village before, except for when you do your shopping," (Y/N) mused, hoping to learn a little bit more about what he did up in that castle of his. 

She watched as he shrugged, still completely unbothered by the weight of her shopping. "I come out every once in a while," he prattled, "But I suppose we never have run into each other until now. What a shame." 

Her blood warmed at his final comment. He really must be teasing her, trying to pull those shy reactions from her. 

Before she had a chance to say much in response, the rowdy tavern only a few meters ahead burst open with sloppy patrons spilling onto the street. The men were undoubtedly drunk as was apparent in the slurring of their shouts and the stumbling of their feet. Everything was too loud for the quiet of the night, including the calls coming from inside the bar, urging the few that had escaped to come back inside. The night couldn't already be over, it was still early, those beckoning voices said. 

Maybe it was the dark of the night, the fact she had never been around anyone drunk enough to slur their words, or the stark sound of it all, but (Y/N) startled at the disturbance. She almost jumped out of her skin, her feet stumbling with her heels digging into the crumbling sidewalk. She could hear a gasp falling from her throat though she couldn't remember making the noise herself. 

Before she had time to recover, Harry had swiftly tugged her to his other side. She was now covered by his body with her other side sandwiched with the walls of the other buildings lining the street. From where the drunken men stood, she doubted they would be able to accurately spot her given her new cover.

"Thank you," she murmured, her thrumming heart beginning to slow finally. 

When he didn't respond, she looked up to find him shooting daggers towards the men that were being pulled back into the tavern. His sharp jaw was clenched shut with his eyes narrowed in their direction. 

"Harry?" she sounded, breaking him from whatever he had running through his head. 

He whipped his head to face her once more, blinking with a flutter of curling lashes. 

"Yes, sorry," he finally responded, "My apologies, I would have pulled you away sooner had I seen them coming." 

"It's alright," she tried to soothe, giving him a small smile, "The shop is just up there, I think I can survive a little while longer." 

He cast his gaze over her form for just a beat longer, his shoulder relaxing some by the time he met her eyes again. "I'll make sure of it," Harry teased, cracking a smile at her. 

They shared those final paces in silence, (Y/N) feeling rather proud of herself and a bit giddy to have had him at her side for this long, his attention on her. By the time the dark apothecary topped with the small flat came into view, she almost wished they would round the block once more. She still had more she wanted to ask him. 

"It has been a pleasure, Ms. (Y/N)," he bowed to her, carefully pulling her shopping baskets from his shoulder and wrist, "I hope I will see you again soon—maybe we'll run into each other like this more often." 

"Maybe," she smiled, taking the bags from him, "Thank you for escorting me home, and helping with my baskets." 

"It's my pleasure," he repeated once more, the green in his eyes flashing with amusement, "Have a good night." 

Inching towards the door, (Y/N) gave him a nod. "Good night, Harry." 

A soft lipped smile on his marble-perfect face was the last thing (Y/N) saw before she was stepping inside the apothecary. The bell above the door tinkled, alerting her father who would no doubt still be awake upstairs.

"(Y/N)? Is that you?" he called down the stairs, the creak of his favorite rocking chair sounding as he stood. 

"Yes, sorry!" she answered, bracing herself to trek up the steep stairs to the flat with her body weighed down with all of the groceries. "I didn't mean to take so long." 

"I don't like you staying out so late after the sun goes down," her father chided her, pulling the bags from her form and taking them towards the tiny kitchen, "There's no telling what could be waiting in the dark." 

(Y/N) kept her mouth shut as her father went off on his complaints. She didn't mention Harry once.

—————

Dressed in her favorite nightgown with her hair braided back with the same twine she tied her herbs with, (Y/N) peered once more out her window, finding the same black cat that had been out there since she readied for bed still sitting in the garden. 

Her moon-yellow eyes were bright in the dark as she stalked and played with the bugs that threatened the state of (Y/N)'s herb garden. She had never seen the cat before, but she was tempted to convince her father to let her bring the creature inside. She would be a good pet, (Y/N) decided. 

Laying back against her pillows, only dim candle light allowing her to see her ceiling, (Y/N) cast her mind back to the hours earlier. Her day had been terribly uneventful, but had ended in heart-fluttering territory. 

Though she realized, thinking back to the conversation she had indulged in on her walk home, she never caught why Harry was out so late by himself, anyway.

—————

Grey clouds crowded the sky as (Y/N) carefully stepped over the vining brush at her feet. The hem of her dress snagged once or twice on some of the thorny bushes and the rough bark covering unearthed roots. Acres of towering trees formed a canopy above her head, barely letting any of the limited light through. She had her eyes on the ground as she tried to scope out those few herbs she wasn't able to cultivate at the home garden. The basket at her hip was already teeming with a good handful of different bundles, but she still needed to find some winter savory.

More than once, her mind wandered as she trekked through the trees. It had been a week since she had last seen Harry, and yet he was still the one thing that floated through her mind whenever she drifted to her daydreams. She could still see the line of his profile, backlit by the cloudy moonlight. In her dreams, she had the courage to reach out and trace over the line, grazing the bridge of his nose and the dip of his cupid's bow. He grew more and more gorgeous every time she revisited her memories. 

She was already known to have her head in the clouds, dreams too big for the village to contain, but she definitely floated upwards more and more since seeing Harry. 

A small smile worked its way onto her lips the longer she wafted through her reverie. (Y/N) liked to think that if she had acted on that impulse—dragging her fingertip along the planes of his features—that he would have cracked a smile, showing off the thumbed dimples and dazzling teeth. Maybe, he would have even looked at her, wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her to his chest before dipping her in the middle of the street. He could kiss her then, the moment romantic and brazen and—

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks the second she saw the dead body on the forest floor. 

If not for the pallor of her skin, she could have assumed this woman had fallen asleep peacefully among the brush. She looked to be around (Y/N)'s age, unbound hair spilling around her head. Her eyes were closed with her features set in a serene scene and arms crossed over her chest. Her palms were pressed flat over her collarbones, the same way those in coffins were laid to rest six feet under. The pose reminded her of her mother.

Though all of that tranquility went to hell when she saw her throat. 

While the woman had been laid to rest with utmost respect, that didn't take away from the fact her throat was ripped open. (Y/N) swore her own esophagus grew sore and tight while looking at the women. The skin had been slashed out of the way by something sharp and angry, revealing frayed sinew and torn muscle. The raw red hue stood out starkly against the snowy pallor her skin had taken on. Something had attacked her, taking out her throat and leaving her to die right where she lay. 

The most unsettling part, (Y/N) realized the longer she stood there, was that there was no blood. Where she expected to see a crimson crust forming around the wood or a puddle haloing the woman's form, there was nothing. Her wound didn't even look that gruesome, truly. It was clinically clean instead, as if a healer had already cared for her and planned on bandaging the tear before letting her head home. She had been bled completely dry, leaving her with rubbery skin, thin veins, and a clean white dress. 

She had heard about these incidences—people going missing only to turn up later dead—but she never pictured it was like this. To her, everything sounded as if wanderers were attacked in the woods are lost through the elements. Never once through her forages in the area had she ever met the face of someone whose life was taken so decidedly.

(Y/N) wanted to scream, she wanted to cry and panic and run. But, she just stood there. 

Time was stuck as she saw the woman with long red hair, unblemished skin, and a fine gown. 

All at once, the severity of the situation flooded back to her. 

Her sore throat was split open with a loud scream, blood-curdling and eye-watering. She dropped her basket to the floor, returning the herbs to where she had plucked them, before she sprinted towards home. Her dress caught on the thorns of the brush, her feet stumbling over the unearthed roots. None of the obstacles slowed her. She tugged her dress free with every pump of her legs, keeping herself steady with nothing other than the will of adrenaline and fear pushing he along. 

She didn't realize she had been crying until she saw the edge of the village in sight, her cheeks burning with her hands going numb. A man she recognized as one of her father's friends was out in his garden, cultivating the family vegetables when he looked up to see her, concern striking his features. 

"(Y/N)," the man called out, his voice echoing over the space.

Stumbling in her tracks, she fought to keep herself steady. Instinctively, she wanted to keep running until she made it back to her bedroom with her safety intact. She knew she couldn't do that, though. She had to tell someone about the woman, find her family and lay her to rest properly. 

Find who had hurt her. 

"Th-There—She's—Dead," (Y/N) panted, floundering around her jumbled mind. She couldn't find a single coherent thought in her head. 

The man's thick brows only furrowed as he cautiously approached her. "Dead?" he pressed, making himself appear smaller as if she were the creature to be cowering from for survival. 

Hearing someone else say the word had another round of sobs wracking through her body. "Sh—The girl—She's dead. In the woods, there's been another." 

Horror took the man's features. Blood drained from his face, leaving him shades paler than just moments before. 

"Another?" he asked, "Like the others?" 

"I-I think so," she stuttered, moments away from crumbling to the ground. She couldn't be sure if the state this young woman had been in was what the rest of the others had gone through. She hope it wasn't.

A curse was uttered under his breath before he shouted towards his home. He called for his wife, a woman (Y/N) vaguely knew from church. It only took a moment for a woman to stick her head out of the doorway, her features screwing up in worry the second she saw (Y/N)'s blubbering form.

She was only vaguely aware of the man explaining to his wife what (Y/N) had shared, and that he was going to get the others together to recover the body and care for her. His wife needed to take care of her, inform her father of what (Y/N) had seen today. 

Time moved impossibly slow while racing through each second simultaneously. At some point, she checked out, shock setting in as she came to terms with everything she had seen. By the time she returned, she had been deposited on the stoop of the church, a knitted blanket around her shoulders. Shivers wracked down her spine though she could feel herself breaking into a thin sweat. Many of the women of the village had swarmed around her, including Mary and Ethel. Feet away, her father was speaking with the vicar of the church. 

"Drink this, dear," Mary said, shoving a warm mug of something in her hands. 

(Y/N) made no move to follow her given directly, loosely gripping the cup in her palms. Her gaze was barely focused, tears still running down her cheeks, as she absently stared at the cobblestone under her boots. 

Every time she blinked, she saw the bloodless wound on the woman. Her thin, lavender eyelids masking unseeing eyes. Her thin fingers, the pale skin barely covering the bones underneath. The sections of her neck that were frayed and ripped, matching that of the hem of her dress. 

Murmurs arose once more around her. (Y/N) had no doubt there was already speculation about who could have done this—who would have killed someone in such a way that an onlooker end up as traumatized as the dead. A part of her brain pinged, knowing that Mary and Ethel would no doubt be peering accusingly at the castle in the distance, their accusations known without a single word leaving their lips. 

Now more than ever, having seen a body, (Y/N) had no doubt that Harry had nothing to do with these disappearances. 

No human could do what she saw in the woods. 

—————

"Let me grab my coat, and John and I will escort you back home." 

(Y/N) did her best to school her features, regulate her reaction before reaching a gentle hand on Margret's shoulder to keep her from ascending the stairs. 

"Oh, no," (Y/N) declined, canting her head with a soft smile, "You've already been too kind tonight. I can make it on my own—home's barely a block away." 

Margret chewed her lip between her teeth, looking over her shoulder to where her parents were standing by the hearth. So many eyes were on them and their interaction. 

"Really, Marg," (Y/N) tried again, "My father and I appreciate everyone's kindness enough, I would hate to put you out even more and make you go out in a storm like this." 

"But," Margret started, "I don't want to leave you alone. The storm is bad enough without everything that... happened." 

Almost two weeks had passed since (Y/N)'s run-in in the woods, and yet the village's paranoia was at an all-time high. Her father had been at her side near constant since he had finished speaking with the vicar, promising her that he wouldn't let that happen again—finding something so gruesome, as well as a silent promise that she wouldn't become the gruesome sight. He had been shaken by her reaction, telling the vicar that he had never seen her so vulnerable, on the edge of hysterics. 

Any herb they couldn't grow in the garden would now be out of stock until he himself could forage through the woods, but she would never be tasked with going by herself. Otherwise, he was going to be at her side as often as he could be, ensuring she was never alone. If he couldn't be there, then he had pooled together a batch of close family friends who would be willing to stand in for him. She would never be by herself, never vulnerable to another fright. 

(Y/N) was losing her mind. 

Everyone walked on eggshells around her, having seen her breakdown in real time. They heeded her father's request as if law, never allowing her even a second of alone time if not in the safety of her bedroom. Even her time in the garden had been reduced to a field trip for every young woman who was tasked to be at her side, chattering about the most lighthearted of subjects.

While in a few ways, (Y/N) couldn't blame her father, she selfishly didn't really care. She needed her freedom, even if that freedom came in the form of a short walk to her home by herself. 

"I promise I will be alright," (Y/N) tried to soothe her friend, offering her beaming smile to Margret's parents and brother as well. "Thank you all for dinner, please don't let me add to the burden by making you all escort me home in a storm. I would never forgive myself if any of you fell ill." 

It was Margret's mother that seemed to waver from (Y/N)'s reasoning. She most likely didn't want her children out in the rain, either. (Y/N) wasn't the only one in the village that needed to be protected from whatever lived in the woods. 

Peering over her shoulder, Margret searched for her parents blessing that came in the form of a small dip of her father's chin. 

"I will come visit you in the morning, then," Margret cemented, "to make sure you're alright." 

"I look forward to it," (Y/N) chirped, bringing her friend in for a small hug before inching towards the front door. She gave her beaming smile to the rest of the family. "Thank you again," she said, "Dinner was wonderful. I'll have to steal the recipe sometime, Mrs. Wayfield." 

"I'll send it with Margret in the morning, dear," she said, her smile tight, "Get home safe. Don't linger longer than you have to." 

"Absolutely," (Y/N) promised, pulling the hood of her purple cloak over her head. 

Final goodbyes were shared before (Y/N) stepped outside, the raging storm that had been rattling the roof of the home now whipping against her form.

As much as the wind stung her eyes and the rain chilled her skin, she reveled in the experience. She was alone, finally. 

Despite what Mrs. Wayfield said, she definitely lingered longer than she needed to, allowing the rain to soak her cloak and begin to seep through her dress. She had never been one to steep in the rain or bask in storms, but that was going to be changing tonight. 

The direct walk home was decidedly short, taking less than a block's worth of steps to take her there, but she was going to make it as long as possible. She might even take the scenic route, stepping through the center of town for no reason at all other than she wanted to. 

Heavy droplets of rain weighed down her cloak the longer she took outside, the wind whipping the hem around her in waves. Taking her time, she ambled over the cobblestones of the town square, ignoring the drops that slipped over her warm cheeks. 

Suddenly, the storm changed once she reached the center of town. 

Before, it had been nothing but rain and wind, the kind of storm that would put her to sleep in a matter of minutes. Something shifted in a matter of moments, taking the wind and amping it up into swirling chills. A crack of lightning lit up the sky, making shadowy ghosts of all the buildings and turning the trees into bony hands reaching towards the heavens. Thunder rattled the Earth a moment later. The large drops of rain quickly became a heavy downpour, slicking down her form until her clothing was stuck to her body and her eyes were struggling to blink through the droplets. Every time she peeked through slitted eyes, the sheets slammed down thick enough she could barely see through it.

The scenic route no longer seemed fun now that she was out here. She should have just gone home like she promised. 

(Y/N) had to step carefully over the cobblestones, not trusting the grip of her boots over the cracks. She wished she could sprint though the barrage, but she would no doubt lose her footing and smash her face into the rocky ground if she did. 

Instead, she kept her head down and tried to navigate back home through the rain, lacking sight. She kept her pace as steady as possible, giving all her focus to the task of making it home, though she was vaguely aware of a familiar panic growing in her chest. 

As much as she had wanted to be alone, take time by herself and live in the village without her father's word being law, she still saw the gruesome body every time she closed her eyes. (Y/N) had nightmares of that moment she had come across the young woman, though this time she blinked her eyes open when (Y/N) grew close enough before snatching at her foot. A shaky breath expanded (Y/N)'s lungs at the childish fear that something could even be following behind her at the moment. She would have no idea if there was; every sound was drowned out by the pouring rain, her sight impaired by the water running over her eyes and the heavy sheets acting like a fog over the village. 

Unable to resist the urge, (Y/N) whipped her head around, trying to catch the monster in the act of following her. Unsurprisingly, no one was there. 

She was alone, just as she had wished. 

Spinning around, the village was completely vacant. No one knew she was out here. No one would even know if she had been snatched like that young woman. Not until she was found again.

That flare of panic in her chest rose again, clogging her throat and thickening her head. 

She needed to get out of here. Being alone wasn't worth this. She should have just taken up Margret and John on their offer and gone straight to her room. She could have found her alone time on another day. 

Picking the first direction in front of her, (Y/N) stormed through. This had to take her home, right? She had lived in this flat almost all of her life, she wouldn't forget where it was. 

Until, of course, (Y/N) noticed she had taken the complete wrong direction, heading towards the opposite end of the village. A strike of lightning lit up the grey sky, showing off the vague shadow of the towering castle in the distance. 

The Count's home. She had to turn around; she was no where close to the apothecary. 

This time, when (Y/N) spun around, trying to find a direction to head through her woolen throat and mounting panic, she couldn't decide. What if she went the wrong way again? What if she ended up back in the town center? 

What if she died out here? 

The morbid turn of her thoughts took her breath away. 

She was stunned in place, unable to make any move in any direction. 

Suddenly, a hand settled on her shoulder, stilling her shaking form. 

"(Y/N)? What are you doing out here?" 

(Y/N) stumbled, turning around to face to familiar voice speaking right behind her. 

There, backlit by another round of lightning and thunder, was Harry. 

His hair was almost black under the rain, near soaked despite having barely been out in the elements for longer than a few moments. His velvet jacket grew darker with every drop absorbed into the thick fabric. He pale skin was a beacon in the gloom. 

"H-Harry?" 

"You can't stay out here, (Y/N). You're going to fall ill, or worse," he told her, concern dripping from his tone the same way the rain clumped through the length of her lashes. 

When she gave her body permission to do so, she wasn't sure, but in a heartbeat she was clinging to his form. He was her safety in the middle of his storm, keeping her from falling victim to the most morbid of her thoughts. It was beyond improper, but she didn't care as she dug her fingers into his waistcoat. He couldn't leave her here.

"I-I was trying to go home," she whined, her voice fragile under the weight of everything. "I think I'm l-lost." 

She felt pathetic to utter something so silly given she knew this town like the back of her hand, but it was a truth. 

Harry lingered in front of her for a moment, seemingly assessing her before he sprung into action. 

"That's alright," he murmured, speaking as if she were an injured animal, "Let me take you home. I think I remember the way. Is that okay? I have my carriage over there." 

He pointed behind himself, where another slice of lightning revealed a black, boxy carriage led by regal white horses. She could see the vague form of someone sitting in the coach box. 

When she didn't immediately answer, he wrapped a tentative arm around her form. "Let me get you home, (Y/N)." 

She gave an absent nod, willing to let him take her anywhere—anything was better than this, she decided. He bundled her against him as he took her to the side of the carriage, sacrificing an arm holding her middle to open the door. He helped heave her inside, getting her in as quickly as possible.

"Thank you," she peeped when she settled on the bench seat. She kept her eyes on him as he waited a moment, relaying to the driver the new destination.

Her body shook with unstoppable tremors as Harry climbed in after her, her soaked clothing ruining the red velvet under her. She would have to apologize to him later.

It was here, in the dry of his carriage, that (Y/N) realized she was sobbing with rivers of hot tears pouring down her cheeks. It wasn't just the chill of the rain that had her feeling as if she couldn't breathe, she realized. In the safety of the cover, wracking sobs kept her from properly filling her lungs, her inhales way too short to be safe. 

The carriage spun around her despite the way (Y/N) tried to focus on her hands on her lap. This wasn't good, she knew. 

"(Y/N)," she heard, the voice firm and commanding, "Look at me, darling." 

Absently, she pulled her head up to face Harry. 

He was inches away from her. (Y/N) could make out the the shattered shards of green around his black pupils. The strong line of his nose and pillow lips were right there. 

Harry was dazzling. Breathtaking. 

Unfortunately, breathtaking was the last thing she needed right then. 

Before she knew any better, (Y/N)'s lashes fluttered as her eyes fell closed on their own accord, her breathing stunted in her lungs. The last thing she was aware of was Harry's panicked call of her name before she spilled over the velvet seat as she lost consciousness. 

—————

When (Y/N) finally cracked her eyes open, her limbs felt impossibly heavy as if she had rocks tied to each end as she sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Her bleary sight took it's time clearing, allowing heartbeats to pass before the blurry streaks around her came into focus. 

She was in an immaculate bedroom, she realized. Her body was cushioned by luxurious velvet, dyed a deep crimson. The mattress underneath was plush and inviting, urging her to sink deeper and deeper into the dreamy bedding and warmth it offered. A length of fur ran across the end of the bed, tickling her bare ankles as she stretched. 

Sitting up where she had been nestled atop the bed, more and more of her head came to her. The bed was even more opulent that she thought. Four posters shot up from around the frame, holding curtains made of delicate black lace. Her hands ached just looking at it, thinking about how long it would take to make something so beautiful, even with the help of one of those sewing machines. More furs and velvet decorated the large space; everything honing in on the darker spectrum of colors. Here and there, pops of gold thread appeared like minute rays of sunlight. At the bedside was a bouquet of cut flowers, all in rich violet hues and smelling sweet enough to draw her in like a butterfly. And she almost did, sticking her nose into the tall stalk of trumpet shaped flowers until she realized what kind they were and jerked back. 

Foxglove, she recognized them to be. Poisonous. 

Around the stalk were wisteria blooms and plumes of baby's breath. The wisteria was another set of flowers that were gorgeous to look at, but deadly in the end. 

Pulling away with a stiff back, she set her bare feet on the ground. Now that she was free from the flowers, the woody scent of winter savory and spike of tobacco in the background were the prominent aromas taking her attention. Looking around her, her cloak was dry, laid on the end of her borrowed bed alone with her boots set up in a neat row by her feet. 

This place was extravagant. A fairytale daydream, perfect for her head-in-the-clouds mindset. 

This had to be a castle. No random hut could have something this indulgent.

There was only one castle she knew of. 

Memories came back to (Y/N) in pieces. 

The storm. She had left the Wayfields' home, telling them she would head straight home despite knowing she was lying. She had wanted some time alone, away from her father's overprotective gaze. But the storm was too much. She had pathetically lost her way and panicked, remembering the woman she had found in the woods. 

Then, there was the gleaming black carriage. The ghostly pale face of the Count who offered to take her home, get her out of the rain and into safety before he would be on his way. She remembered him helping her into the carriage, telling the coachman that they needed to drop her back at the apothecary. Her emotions had fluctuated to opposite ends of the spectrum: extreme panic under the sheets of rain to the deep relief she felt at seeing a familiar face who could help her. 

The last few things she could remember was the guilt she felt at ruining the luxe seating in the Count's carriage before looking up to see him facing her directly with his breathtaking features. That was all that had been left before she tumbled back and lost consciousness. 

This was no doubt the Count's home. There had been times she had wondered what kind of interior a building as magnificent as this one would have, but she had never thought of something this indulgent. 

Though, despite her admirations, she couldn't stay here. 

She was never supposed to take even the long walk home, let alone travel all the way to the gargantuan home that the most notorious member of the village resided in. (Naming him as a member of their village was a stretch, but the easiest way for (Y/N) to think at the moment). There was no telling how long she had been out, but her father was going to kill her even if it was ten seconds. 

Despite the ache in her bones and the stiff fabric of her ill dried dress, she forced her boots back on, the laces pulled into clumsy bows. Her cloak was grabbed in a haste before she started towards the door. She didn't know what she was going to do, but she needed to get back home as soon as she could.

Swinging open the heavy door, (Y/N) swayed on her feet, stopping in her tracks when she saw who was on the other side. 

Propped against the opposing wall, between more cut flowers and immaculate paintings, was the Count himself. 

He was at attention within a second, but (Y/N) had caught the way he had been slumped against the wall, his shoulders a sullen slope. In an instant, he had crossed the grand hall to meet her at her door, his hands reaching out towards her. His eyes looked darker than ever, only light shatters of deep green apparent in his iris. His usually flawless hair was left in disarray. Somewhere, he had shed his coat and cravat, leaving the billowed sleeves of his shirt and grey waistcoat the only articles on his torso. Even the neckline of his white shirt had been left loose, a stretch of creamy skin on display. 

"Are you okay?" he breathed out, his gaze immediately tripping down her form before she had a chance to answer, "I-I tried to make sure you hadn't injured your head, or-or worse when you fell faint, but I couldn't be positive." 

Her lashes fluttered in a blink as she startled over his concern. She had never seen him so discomposed, his demeanor world's away from calm. 

"I-I'm alright," she breathed, finding her tongue in her dry mouth, "You brought me to your home?" She could vaguely remember him ordering the coachman to take her home, back to the flat above the apothecary. 

He wet his lips, his eyes searching through hers as he collected his words. "When you fell faint," he started, "I was not sure if you would have been alone if I took you home. I was worried; I decided to take you back here, so I could keep an eye on you. That's all, I swear it." 

She was sure he knew just as well as she that being alone like this—unchaperoned, neither of them dressed as they typically should be, no one aware of her whereabouts—was more inappropriate than a single moonlight stroll through town. This could ruin both of them if anyone found out; (Y/N) would be deemed unbecoming for marriage, and the small amount of reputation Harry had would be buried six feet under. 

Throughout all, (Y/N) still found her skin warming, seeing how genuinely he spoke of her and his worry of her well-being. Other than her cloak and boots, she could tell none of her clothing had been tampered with. He had done nothing more than keep an eye on her. 

"Thank you," she swallowed, nodding her head as she allowed a small smile to curl her lips. She felt a bit desperate then, hoping he knew how deep her gratitude went. "Truly, thank you. I-I don't know what happened to me, it was scary." 

"I'm sure it was," he murmured, the tight set to his features loosening the longer she stood in one piece before him. "I am glad I found you when I did." 

"How long has it been?" she asked, noticing not a single window that could give away the time of day. She wasn't even sure if it was still night time.

He deflated some at her words. "A few hours, I think" he shared, dropping his gaze as if realizing just now how long he had been her self-appointed guardian, "The storm finally ended not too long ago. You were exhausted, (Y/N)." 

She had never heard her name wrapped in his voice before. Looking at him now, she was back in that carriage with her lungs stunted and mind only on him. She swore she could see his eyes lightening before her gaze, more and more green coming to the surface like a murky pond under sunlight. The panicked urge she had to race home slowly melted out of her. 

"I'm not surprised," she agreed, finally breaking her gaze from his for no other reason than to allow her breath to come back. She cast her eyes around the opulent space, taking in the priceless art around her, the glossy flooring and detailed decor. "This is your home?" 

"For as long as I can remember," he smiled, pride straightening his shoulders as he followed her line of sight, "It's my sanctuary. If you'd like, I can have the kitchen make something for you and I can give you a tour of the grounds in the meantime." 

Instantly, she wanted to accept. She wanted to see what kind of creations a place like this could make in the kitchen. She wanted to know where he had found such gorgeous, but deadly plantlife. She wanted to know if any of her daydreams had been right about this place. 

Unfortunately, there was that niggling worry that popped back up in the back of her mind. 

"As much as I would love to, I can't," she reluctantly let out, "I have to go home. My father... he's probably rallying the village as we speak, trying to find me before he loses his mind." 

Harry's expression fell, losing that pride over her praise. Nonetheless, he gave her a relenting nod. "I understand," he said, cracking a small smile, "I have had you hidden away for long enough, I suppose. I'll have my staff ready my carriage, and I'll have you home by dawn."

"Thank you," she said earnestly once more, "Really, Harry. I fear where I would be if you hadn't come across me." 

"I do as well," he shared, his voice low as if sharing a secret with her. 

This time, (Y/N) didn't wipe the smile from her lips as she looked up at him. Another shade of green seemingly appeared in his gaze. 

—————

"You're not coming with me?" (Y/N) asked, poking her head out of the door of the coach when Harry didn't immediately follow after her. The first rays of sunlight were beginning to crest the horizon, giving away just how long she had been far from home, though that didn't stop her from stalling. 

"Unfortunately," he said, keeping his feet planted on the ground outside the carriage. He looked up at her from where he stood, holding the door open as he spoke to her. "I have business to attend to very soon; I wouldn't have time to arrange everything if I escorted you this morning. I hope you'll accept my apologies, anyway." 

Though she was disappointed she would lose out on time with him, she couldn't blame him. He must be a busy man if he had this place to call home and a full staff to take care of it. He didn't have time to chauffeur her around the village, even if that was what she wanted. He didn't even have a chance to tell her where he had found the flowers for his bouquets. 

"I suppose I'll forgive you this time," she said, a sly smile on her lips that had Harry's own lips blooming, "But next time, I won't be so lenient." 

"I appreciate your grace, my lady," he played along, offering her that dazzling smile and dimpled cheeks. "I promise to see you soon. I feel like I'll need to visit the apothecary sooner rather than later." 

(Y/N) could take that promise. "I will make sure we stay stocked, then." 

"Until next time," Harry said, inching away from the carriage with reluctant steps deeper into the shadows.

"Until next time." 

With that, Harry closed the door to the coach, relaying the destination to the driver. 

With her hands in her lap and heart bubbling in her chest, (Y/N) allowed her cheeks to split with her smile. Definitely better than any kind of daydream her cloudy head had come up with.

—————

As soon as she approached the church, (Y/N) was grateful for the instructions she had given to the coachmen to drop her at the edge of the village, leaving her to be the only one who had seen the carriage at all. As she had suspected, her father really had rallied every able body in the town. She could only imagine she had caught them right before they started combing the woods and terrorizing the neighboring villages until they found her. 

It was Margret who had seen her first, breaking down into tears with a bursting sob before she was running towards (Y/N).

"Where have you been?!" she screamed, collapsing around (Y/N) in a steely hug, "I—We—Everyone thought you were—" 

Margret didn't have to finish her words for (Y/N) to know what had been on the village's mind. 

Before she had a chance to do anything more than reciprocate the hug and draw a breath, her father was barreling over. "(Y/N)!" he shouted, a mix of relief and anger tinting his tone. She doubted he even knew how to feel in that moment. 

"I'm sorry, Margret," (Y/N) muttered, offering a consoling smile before pulling away from her hug. The Wayfields stepped forward to collect their daughter while (Y/N) went towards her father, already dreading the lecture she would receive. "Father, I—" 

The air was stolen from her lungs the second he scooped her into a tight hug. "My daughter," he murmured into her hair, nestling her against his chest, "I thought the worst." 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, aware of the eyes watching their embrace. 

"What happened?" he asked, pulling away to face her with watery eyes and warm cheeks, "Why didn't you stay with Margret and her family? They said you went through the storm alone, promising to come back home." 

(Y/N) felt immense floods of guilt bubble through her system. This wasn't the welcome home she had thought she'd garner. 

"I hadn't meant to frighten anyone," she started, hoping the rest of the village overheard, "I only wanted a minute alone, but I was planning on coming home right away. But, the storm was so heavy, and I scared myself. I was disoriented and ended up a village over. I stayed in their church for the night, until it was safe to come home." 

The lie slipped off her tongue like water, the story planned from her time in the carriage. Her guilt only worsened knowing she was deceiving her father, but she didn't want anyone to know where she had spent the night. Despite the impropriety of the whole thing situation Harry, she didn't want Mary and Ethel chattering to her father that the Count was trying to steal away his daughter and flay her before dropping her in the forest. 

She didn't want Harry to be dragged into this. 

His features tightened at her words, but she could see as he ultimately accepted them. "Okay," he relented before flexing his arms around her in a pulsing hug, "Never again, (Y/N). Do you hear me?" 

"I hear you," she promised, holding him back just as tightly. 

Over his shoulder, she could see the gleaming of a black carriage ascending the trail towards the large castle in the distance.

—————

oleander, if consumed, can slow the heart and cause death within hours.

ahhhhhh! super super super different for myself ngl! I changed a couple of ideas I had just bc I started scaring myself but thank you so much for reading! im so happy im finally putting out a halloween fic! so sorry for any mistakes and if theres any ideas or thoughts please send them in!

[sexhaver]

are you a fan/supporter of AI-generated art, and if so, why? i've frankly never understood why people like it and i'm trying to wrap my head around it. thanks :)

asking if im a "fan" of AI art is like asking if im a "fan" of Photoshop. it's a tool that has the potential to be used for shitty things (i.e. photoshopping pictures of someone to make them look bad, or training an AI model specifically on one artist and then undercutting that artist on commissions), but it's also a really fucking powerful tool that has the potential to push art in directions it could never feasibly go before. like, how do you read "people without an artistic bone in their body will be able to spin up dozens of pictures of whatever arbitrary thing they want" and jump straight to the ethics of sourcing the datasets and "robbing artists" and supporting draconian IP law without even admitting that, at a base level, that's a really cool and useful piece of technology to have.

part of the reason i keep posting about it is because i work in warehouse automation. ive spent the last decade learning how to automate shitty tasks that nobody in their right mind would want to do for free, and people STILL get upset that robotics are inherently "stealing their jobs". this is literally only a problem because of capitalism; in any sane world, a machine that can do shitty jobs would be a godsend. but when you need to work for a living, these robots become competition instead of tools to make your life better. and yet people will still direct their outrage at the robots themselves and not their bosses or capitalism as a whole

the same thing is happening with AI art. without capitalism forcing artists to draw for survival, the ability for non-artists to create art at a whim would be a tool with a wide range of applications. under capitalism, however, these tools become competition. and yet again, people are directing their rage at the people making this good-in-a-vacuum technology instead of capitalism, or even more specifically, the miniscule percentage of AI artists who use the tech to financially harm artists by undercutting them on commissions.

of course, there's the added twist that, unlike stacking heavy cardboard boxes, art is something that a lot of people actually do enjoy intrinsically and would do for free. this has spawned an entirely separate branch of arguments against AI art based on ethics and philosophy instead of laws and finance. this branch argues that AI art is not just bad because it can directly financially harm artists who don't use it, but that it's actively eroding the concept of "art" itself. this is the branch that spawns soundbites like "AI art just copies from humans", "that's not art because it's soulless", and "what's even the point in making art when a robot can do it faster and better?"

i'm going to be blunt: this branch, just like any other train of thought that hinges on an unspecified definition of "true art" that ebbs and flows at the speaker's whim, is complete horseshit at best and outright reactionary at worst. unfortunately, it has also infected most of the anti-AI-art crowd to the point where it's almost impossible to find any arguments against AI art that don't eventually fall back on it

tl;dr: AI art is a powerful tool with the potential to benefit humanity at large, and desperately trying to stuff that genie back into the bottle [by donating to Disney's IP lawyers] because it scares you is not going to work

[gemapples]

see you in 2024 💗💗

very personal ramble about my year and experiences, etc. under the cut. kind of neg just a warning but if anyone would be willing to read it the whole way through i'd appreciate it so so much

2023 was certainly... a year for me. had many highs but a Ton of lows, went forward one step but took two steps back. i'd be lying if i said i didnt struggle and know what to do for a lot of it

i did get to meet and even become friends with people i look up to, got to learn new things i didn't know before. and one of the problems i noticed throughout this year is i spent way more time than i needed to focusing on my usefulness for others and what i can do for people rather than prioritizing myself and my mental health. i think a lot of problems i experienced in 2023 was due to me getting too caught up in how i'm perceived by others (especially on social media like tumblr). for 2024 i want to work on this and be sure to put myself first in every situation and be the best person i see myself as -- not overdo it for the sake of others. i'm going to try being more straightforward with myself and how i choose to approach people. i want to be more involved in this fandom and get to know more people who love kirby better rather than just hiding away and watching from the side like i have for many years, waiting for them to approach me first at some point. i made a lot of progress on this a lot in 2023 but i could always be better :')

regardless though, i wouldn't have been nearly as ready to get back on track if it weren't for the support you all have given me throughout this year. august and september were two of the worst months i've ever experienced; i won't get into it (if you know you know), but goddd was it harder than i can even describe. i've never had to go through something that resulted in me questioning my Entire artistic ability, my whole worth, and whether everything i've grown and learned from is just completely fake. i couldn't look at my work and all of my social medias without being completely disgusted and disappointed with myself. i'm in art student too, so you can imagine how fucking hard it was to balance and muscle through that as well lol. it was nothing but hell. if i didn't get the support i did from everyone, i can say with full confidence i wouldn't have been able to pick up my pencil phone and get back to drawing Nearly as quickly as i did. in fact, i probably would still be deeply effected by it and not have the motivation to continue posting for at least a long while. so i seriously can't thank you enough for that. all the words i was told still stick with me to this day and gave me a reason to keep pushing and learn to better understand myself

im tearing up as i write this so i'll have to cut it short LOL but i want to express how deeply it means to me that through all the conflict i've experienced throughout this year, you guys were there for me and were so generous to offer your time to support me and help me out. knowing i make at least one person smile and enjoy what i post is enough for me. hopefully 2024 will be easier on the emotional rollercoasters, i think all of us could use a long break from chaos really lol

thanks for everything and i love you

-mac

[lady-margaret]

bridgerton season 3 part 1 opinion (as someone who has read all the books + is kathony biased so be warned)

after sitting and stewing on what i just watched for a few hours

i’d like to start this off by saying that due to my disappointment of the writing from the last season, i was way more gracious with this one. kate and anthony were great because of simone and jonathan; i’m not sure the writers had much to do with that.

anyway, what i’m saying is that i already knew not to expect the writers to be faithful to the source material (romancing mr. bridgerton), so i was able to enjoy myself more. additionally, polin’s book isn’t exactly a favorite of mine anyway, so there wasn’t a lot to be too disappointed with in my case.

what i liked:

penelope’s wardrobe; they hyped up the “transformation” so much and i’m glad it did not disappoint.

colin’s hot 😌

eloise’ wardrobe; someone pointed out that it had a lot of philip references, so yay 😀 (it has me worried that it’ll be her story next though, we need ben first)

eloise interacting with the other ladies of the ton was really cute and refreshing; she’s learning that despite them having different interests than her, they are still people of great value. the difference is eloise was raised in a loving and supportive family, unlike most of the others.

sibling’s g&h’s personalities coming through more (they are anthony’s children, truly).

featherington sisters as comic relief.

MARRIED KATHONY CRUMBS 💕💕💕 they carried episode 1 for me.

FRANCESCA 💕💕💕 gorgeous introvert representation.

FRANNY AND JOHN 💕💕💕 (i am both ready and NOT ready to get hurt 🥹)

book references (yay! the bare minimum!)

lord debling’s dope.

i actually do like that they gave cressida a legitimate reason to want to win the competition money to unmask LW in the second part.

the music choices haven’t disappointed yet!!!!!

colin’s line for the season is def the “well are you gonna marry me or not?” line HEHEHEHEHE i ALMOST screamed as loud as i did when john entered when he said that line to pen.

as an army, plus points for dynamite 🤭 i didn’t expect to like the orchestral version and didn’t see the vision of where they would even insert it, but i actually liveddd for it.

what i don’t really have strong feelings about:

mondrich plot; alice is beautiful but the addition of their family storyline didn’t make much of a lasting impact.

the queen; she was very meh so far.

the featherington storyline: the sisters are funny, but their whole situation mixed with the humor leads me not to take it very seriously.

violet x lady danbury’s brother: 🤷‍♀️ i don’t see it.

the “lady danbury’s brother” storyline in general is very forgettable.

what i disliked:

i think nicola and luke could use more chemistry; they fall short compared to daphne&simon and kathony (HEAVY ON KATHONY THIS IS WHY THEY REMOVED THEM FROM THE REST OF THE EPISODES SIGH)

they kinda mischaracterized colin (he spent the last two seasons being selfish and putting himself above everyone else violet, what the hell are you talking about “you never place yourself over others” 🤨)

the lack of ben time?? did he go back to the academy after taking over for anthony briefly??? what did he do besides dodging debutantes all season????

they glossed over benedict running the estate so quickly; this could have been an opportunity to draw out his storyline, especially since he mentioned that he liked having a purpose: WRITERS???? DO SOMETHING WITH THAT!

i also didn’t really care for the ben x tilly arnold plot; unless sophie’s actually a maid of her’s or something, i don’t see her point in the show besides just be another one of ben’s ever changing girl of the season.

im sorry but eloise would never SHOULD NEVER have befriended her (ex?) best friend’s bully, no matter what the circumstances. that is NOT eloise.

honestly, them revealing whistledown in the first season is really screwing with the writing; in this regard, i wish they stayed more faithful to the book and how colin finds out about LW. it all just seems so messy at this point.

so s3 starts when kathony end their honeymoon… how long was this honeymoon? math isn’t mathing cuz it couldn’t have been more than a week given that kate isn’t obviously pregnant yet in the first ep.

i know that colin and pen are longtime friends, but from how they’ve interacted with each other in the past seasons, it’s a bit harder to believe that they were close CLOSE friends; close friends to the extent of helping the other find a spouse through “lessons”? i don’t see it. that’s why i was a bit ??? when i first found out about the plot they were going with for the season (in the book, colin really just starts following her around cuz she was being sus)

i hate that they had to come up with an excuse to get rid of kathony for the rest of the episodes; i get that they’ve been running their separate households alone for most of their lives and want a break but… i don’t think they would abandon their responsibilities for an “extended honeymoon”. knowing them, running the estate isn’t gonna stop them from being wh0res!! they help each other out with the estate and are still sickeningly in love and have time for each other (in the books). i was also really hoping to see kate taking over the viscountess role. i swore they would have done something like that after that cute/awkward moment when they both respond to “lady bridgerton” in episode 1.

i get that it’s established that penelope’s one goal for the season is to get a husband, but as i know her character, she would NEVER get into races (?) or run just so she can talk to a suitor before anyone else does 😭 okay but it was funny.

i am kinda sad that they couldn’t have just let a mean character or a villain character be the villain character; yea sure, i did say that i liked that cressida had a legitimate and well thought out motive for wanting the LW reward money but, idk i could’ve lived without her storyline.

one of the BIGGEST THINGS for me is that i do not think they should have released so many clips/snippets of the show days or weeks before it came out. i understand like 1 clip, but i skipped SO MANY SCENES because i have watched them at least 5 times already on tiktok or twitter.

the two part season idea is dumb.

i’m scared for how messy part 2 will be (in terms of both writing and just how stressed i will be with the revealing of LW plot HUHU poor pen) but i’m still looking forward to it 😇😇😇 and despite all the things i didn’t like, i did still enjoy it. if i do rewatch it or not is still to be decided; s1 & s2 have such high rewatch value.

franny and john were TRULY a standout though. i cannot even begin to describe how loud i screamed when he finally said his name out loud 😭💕

verdict: the writing is getting messier, get jonathan bailey in that writer’s room ASAP

[thedoover-if]

So it sounds like it's set that MC's ex cheated on them, but, since different people have different concepts of cheating... Is it set what exactly the ex did, and what the boundaries were?

nobody asked for this but im just gonna use this to give a little more background LOL (under the cut)

so the ex works a white collar job and when they got together with the MC that was the case back then too. they've had multiple promotions and such since but typically they'd be out the house by 8.30 and back at home at 6 latest mon-fri (the MC has their office at home).

they started cheating with a work colleague about a year before the official divorce but even now the MC doesn't truly know cause the ex was very calculated with it.

building up to the actual cheating part (sleeping with their colleague) theyd make sure to mention fake business events, changes in work schedule and so on WAY in advance (a month prior) so it wouldn't be suspicious. thats mainly why they were able to get away with it for so long! if the ex was ever late for dinners or dates, the MC knew about this and reason for this many weeks prior, so communication always seemed transparent.

after roughly 6 months the ex forgot to lock their draw and when the MC went to look for some patient files they had misplaced they stumbled across a draw full of nude paintings of this one recurring person. each picture was more intimate than the previous, and there were about 20. (by the way, the ex never mentioned this habit or asked to paint the MC ever so that was a shock)

when the MC confronted the ex, they confessed immediately but also repeatedly said that it was purely sex and there were no emotions at play. and if the MC asked why, they couldnt explain it. all they said was "i don't know". thats why even if the mc decided to give them another chance the ex refused. they really believed the MC would be better off without them

hearing about the MCs accident just kinda forced them to really think about their whole life and the years spent with the MC. and even though they remarried there were NEVER any feelings involved. they just kind of went with the flow cause the person they cheated with wanted them to take the next step and at that point the ex didnt have much left anyway.

(btw the ex did NOT tell their partner they were going back to town to check on MC *facepalm*. so they're sat at home thinking it's a work trip...🚩🚩)

sorry for the long wall of text i got carried away haha but yeah LOL

fyi this is a standalone game so if you choose 'the ex' ro route, once you rekindle your relationship it's up in the air whether you grow old together or they cheat again (thats your belief!!)...

[seth-burroughs]

I did rotate a NDA/Amaterasu swap au in my head a few months back but I just got reminded of it now again soooo, some notes:

(ended up going a bit more loose with the swapping, essentially yuma is the homunculus and makoto's got amnesia, the NDA is Seth/Guillaume/Dominic/Martina with chief Yomi, the (post-ch0) peacekeepers are halara/desuhiko/fubuki/yakou with director Vivia because I sincerely think Yakou is too cringe for that. And just for the hehehe, Huesca is now Makoto's terrible shinigami while Shinigami dumps acid on people in the lab)

Makoto and Yuma change places but their personalities stay pretty similiar. Makoto keeps his eccentricity to #Cope and doesn't really trust others due to the whole amnesia thing. Yuma on the other hand becomes a prey animal after the entire homunculus event

I'm not exactly sure about the other fortes of the NDA except for Guillaume (who can alter the future with the requirement of having to use a plausible horoscope format, though i guess it's good she's having fun with it?) and Dominic (who is like, it's less that he's having a forte and more that he's just a super OP augmented human that has been through surgeries that made him able to shoot lasers out his eyes or something. we can even call him somewhat of an artificially created forte haver. he feels.... a lot of things regarding the whole thing). I do have a few ideas for Seth that I cannot articulate properly, but my mind just draws a blank on Martina. Maybe she gets some persuasion powers? like, if she focuses long enough on unethically interrogating some person or even just trying to get information out of a peacekeeper, they just eventually start uncontrollably spilling the beans via her cool mind control psychic powers affecting their thoughts and judgment and shit. Since that was similiar to her regular hobby in canon. Anyway that's in the works for now

Yomi is the chief of the NDA (for the longest time though it wasn't an agency even he just literally worked alone. not because detectives got discriminated against back then like in canon, but because he thought everyone who applied was extremely annoying for not meeting his impossible standards), and like Yakou in canon he does not have a forte. However, he acts pretty proud of it and how he unlike those other gifteds, actually had to put in effort and work harder for that position. He really hates his coworkers for having it that easy and and never passes up an opportunity to act superior to them and undermine everything they ever do, and invents slurs for people with magic powers. Very visibly actions of somebody that is actually totally confident in their abilities and themselves all along

He wasn't at all prepared for getting new subordinates, the WDO just called him at literal last minute saying they're gonna be delivering detectives to his sub the same week, then just hung up. He spent the next two days furiously vacuuming the place and throwing darts at the picture of master detective wikipedia article he printed out to put on his wall

He's very proud of his incredibly cool, glorious submarine he got with his own money back in the Glory Days. He's a very "stop fucking touching that get your hands off that furniture don't pick that up DON'T MOVE THHSE FFFUCKING SOPOT TRIP MAGNETS if you knock that over im gonna kill you make any mess in my sub and im gonna waterboard you in the shower" type of guy with his belongings. He doesn't appreciate the NDA being there and touching stuff. Unless they wanna sweep the floors in which case put on the maid suit Makoto. But he's still gonna just sit there in his chair and watch him and yell at him every ten seconds that he's doing it wrong

His personal "dead wife moment" was when Dr. Shizuka (Shinigami) ran over his darling boytoy hitman Zilch Alexander with her truck and reversed on him over four times before driving off . it was the night of their wedding

Halara is the chief of the investigations team, and is actually mildly interested in actually investigating the cases themself. Used to have aspirations to become a detective in their younger days, but didn't think it would be more beneficial to them than, say, becoming a peacekeeper. With their cool immunity benefits and pay. They love money, definitely not above bribery either. Still love cats more than humans.

Extremely confident in their strength and superior intelligence, to the point of feeling simply untouchable. They never quite considered the possibility of actually finding out after fucking around for such a long time during the nail man killings, and when director Vivia plainly told them they're fired and going to the chopper for that, their mind just short circuited for a moment from the influx of this incomprehensible information. Of course, they did not let themself get taken away, but are from that point on the run.

They think they're the smartest person in the room, however they never actually went through any training in being a detective or anything like that, and thus can.... severely overestimate their ability to get away with things. Especially when Vivia's around. Oh well!

Director Vivia is. Well first of all are you familiar with dark era Dazai bsd just asking for no particular reason. He allows himself to get pretty silly with it every once in a while, but generally he's just. Personality of canon Vivia with the sadism of canon Yomi, but also Not Really

Doesn't really like shows of power that much, and prefers to stay out of public as much as he can; whenever he is called to take care of a case himself, he will make it very clear he's too pissed off to tolerate any Funny Stuff. Eerily aware of everything that happens in his city, he possesses a lot of knowledge that he realistically just shouldn't even have access to. His subordinates treat him as some sort of powerful eldritch god. He's pretty apathetic to it though.

Yomi acts really weird whenever he's mentioned for some reason.

Nowwww onto Yakou, Vivia's slutty slutty vice-director.... haha just kidding, he's just replacing his wife for the week. She's at home sick <3

Kind of really cringe and not evil enough for this, but Vivia still wants him to get a divorce eventually. He's kind of the only person that isn't batshit scared of Vivia, because they actually did bond over at some rooftop smoking cigarettes looking into each other's eyes one night a few years back. And also he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the many benefits of being the director's faaaaaavouriiite~ a bit.

He's not a good person by any means do not get fooled by his wet rat charm. None of the NDA-turned-peacekeepers are good people now, not even Fubuki who loves to explode things for fun or Desuhiko who's honestly really just an underqualified nepo baby in this au

If anyone is curious about this then my ask box is open. I just kinda got too sleepy right now and left the summary at just that, but there was probably more that I forgot........

[ourfag]

and how to succeed in genderhood

hehehe @t4tgb asked for this one as well!!

this file is my workshop for everything relating to the transbians modern au i think ive mentioned once before on here. it’s a very long way from being written, if it ever does get written

in a lot of ways it’s a garden variety fluff piece with coffeeshop au sensibilities—everybody’s friends, interpersonal conflicts are trivial, one of the most important functions of this setting to me is creating a safe environment for ed to tumble into and gently get her egg cracked

not that it’s as simple for her as meeting a trans woman her age and going “oh why didn’t i think of that!” there’s a bit of push-and-pull she has to muddle through in terms of—actually let me just copy paste some of my thoughts on where her head is at before she comes out to herself:

With the culture Ed’s been surrounded by up until now, it’s been an easy assumption to make that Being A Man was another one of those things like swallowing live worms or playing bloody knuckles: getting yourself loaded up with as much acute misery as you can take and then parading it around like a trophy. “Look how much this pain doesn’t even bother me.”

The question, “But would you like to be seen as a woman?” draws out some tears because her approach to the image she projects has always always always been about its utility. Simply expressing herself without curating an image built around that utility is such an unfamiliar and bittersweet experience, and there’s a reason she’s spent most of her life not considering it a serious option.

she starts out with a bit of a blind spot about stede’s insecurities the same way her canon counterpart does, so there’s a period where she uses the way stede is So Obviously A Woman to her in order to kind of.. illustrate to herself why she So Obviously Isn’t, no matter how much she would like to be. and it’s not until stede Gets A Sense About Ed and starts gently sharing some of her earlier gender experiences For No Particular Reason that ed starts feeling more able to draw those connections to herself

i realize im making it sound like a really rough time but tbh it’s mostly abt watching star trek in your underpants and having tender lesbian sex. stede gets ed brainstorming potential name changes with her while she tries on flowery hats and ed is like “tbh i think the name bonnie really suits you but i can’t figure out why” and stede turns to ed and goes 😐 Bonnie Bonnet? and ed is like ohhh yeah thats why

(stede vacillates between a whole bunch of Traditionally Female names bc she feels like she Ought To Have One Of Those but her heart isnt really in it)

(she does eventually change her legal first name though)

(to Captain.)

[projecto2-game]

DevLog 2 - The Devining

well. it only took 3 months. but here is our new devlog! or however you call it... We did write a whole devlog for early march, but with school and work taking up most of our schedule, we did not post it, and most of our progress fell to the sands of time.

Snail (@snailmusic) -

Yeah I didn't do nearly as much as freep, so most of those changes will be down there. part of the reason though is that ive been doing a lot of work on my music (haha yes self promo) so if you want to check that out it'd be great! (most of yall are just from my acc so you probably alr know) (my current style of music is probably not representative of O2's audio style or vibe, still working towards that)

The main thing I did was improve trenchbroom (level editor)/qodot/godot interop, which can bring us closer to building some levels (and who knows, a little alpha test in the future ;)). It was actually realllyyyy annoying due to a lack of documentation for qodot 4 (and also ill admit it, a bit of my stupidity) so there was a bug that I couldn't fix for a long time but eventually it was fixed and now it works great!

I also started looking more into the art style of the game, and I'm even learning a bit of how to draw (thanks to my friends! I wouldn't be able to learn like at all without them lol).

^ guy on a cube

oh yeah speaking of outside help im getting this is (very slightly) now bigger than us two! the others aren't doing too much we can note right now (one doesnt have a tumblr acc either) but when their contributions come more into play we'll include them here.

See ya next time!

Freep (@freepdryer) -

Back in march, i spent a lot of time working on the AI, getting it to move… and run away, sort of. But more of that will come later. 

Lots of these last week or so has been on the character controller, and reinventing the wheel to introduce a state machine and get a lot cleaner code so its easier to revisit if we ever had to.

Im proud of the work that we've done so far, as we come close to a prototype with *Gameplay* 

New Things

Changed the look of the enemy slightly to remove the “amongus factor”

Rewrote the entire script for nav pathing

New enemy prototype can now feel pain / has a health pool that can be depleted using bullets from the player

Added a new line of sight for the enemy to check whether or not the player is in the area to follow

Added the ability for the enemy to hide - WIP - enemy can hide but isnt very good at it. Kinda like a child who turns away while hiding in the corner. 

Enemy can also detect when youre in a certain range, I will be adding more flags later on for detection (when the player shoots, sneezes, or explodes on accident)

New testing map!

New areas for target practice, line of sight testing, following and hiding

New player character controller!

Rewrote the entire script for the inclusion of State machines

This was painful.

Added 6(?) new states for several movement states

Added animations for 

Walking

Running

Jumping

Crouching

Fixed the stair problem

Whats next?

Continue work on enemy AI - finish hiding, add roaming, add attacking

Dunno? 

Fix the stair problem again, but more?

Weapons!

The end?

Thanks for coming to our devlog! We will be back hopefully very soon!

[yelspyder]

hello sweetie!! :)

i see that you want to talk about so i did come here in your inbox to talk with u! and here's my thought:

i like to think that when you give something handmade to gwen, she keep it somewhere safe and private that no one will know about (not even her dad).

and if you do happen to draw, write songs/poetry or just write letters to her, she is going save on the same place and from time to time she will come back and just to see it all again, remembering how much you do love her and all the love you put in the little things you do for her.

idk what else can i write in here but yk she is just so cute!! (and im very sure that she made a song for you at least once, im right and i know it)

anyways, love u! 💕

— (@tadeumoont from his main account)

Man this scenary is SO cute ଘ(੭ˊ꒳​ˋ)੭ She is so precious ajdjdjdkddmd I can totally see Gwen keeping a little box (with a lock) hidden somewhere in her room just to hold anything you give her. She already values everything you buy her, but when you give her a handmade gift?!?!!? The game is over for Gwen. She's super protective of whatever you've given her, seeming almost paranoid when anyone makes any sign of coming closer. She just appreciates that you took the time and effort, not just money, to give her the gift.

Gwen is definitely keeping a small box somewhere hidden in her room, obviously with a padlock so no one else can get it and consequently damage the gifts, and Gwen's box obviously has a padlock too, with a key she carries hanging from a necklace. When she has to step in as spiderwoman, she makes sure to leave the key in a safe place before going to save the day. If she accidentally lost the key? (which honestly happened many times despite the care she takes) she ends up having to break/pick the old lock with a brick or something and buy a new one, with a new key ofc.

Now, if you have any artistic ability, whether playing an instrument, drawing, etc, she values even more (if that is humanly possible). If it's a drawing, Gwen tucks each drawing carefully inside the box, occasionally taking it out for brief peeks when she misses you, but if you wrote it for her, Gwen will be so happy skdkddcr first, she'll save it somewhere on her phone to make sure she doesn't lose the song, and then she'll definitely rehearse it in secret and then give you a private performance (she would absolutely be saying something like "oh, it's not that good" and "I didn't rehearse much" when this girl literally spent the whole month rehearsing to look cool for you). If it was short love letters or whatever random thing you give her, she would be flattered to get so much pampering from you too. She would 10/10 train to improve her handwriting to be able to write you a letter back to you in impeccable handwriting. Afterwards, you're probably feeling self-conscious seeing her handwriting compared to yours, unaware that her trash can is full of failed attempts.

Anyway, I ended up getting carried away and this is longer than I thought ☠ Gwen is so adorable man

Lov u too <3

[shootingstarrfish]

HOW DO YOU DRAW SO QUICKLY AGH

I swear every time I turn around you’ve posted another masterpiece I’m jealous you can draw so fast it takes me like 3 days at least for a piece lol

AHH i keep being asked this and im flattered yall think this?? ill take a bit to explain the choices that help with my speed and circumstantial stuff that helps a lot

obligatory YOU DON'T NEED TO DO THINGS FAST taking your time is good!! i just get bored easily so i like being done with things and moving on, but i'm very aware of the fact that social media rewards this and punishes inconsistency so i get it lol

long ass ramble under the cut lol

okay so things i deliberately do to draw fast-

i specifically have 2 distinct styles because i constantly have too many ideas, and most of them don't need to be several hour long illustrations so i try to pick my battles and go for a simpler more expressive style for shitposts/memes/etc and reserve my more detailed style for ideas that actually benefit from having that extra time and effort. ofc this won't work for everyone but i tend to have 50 styles at any given moment anyway so giving myself the freedom to switch between them has been really nice

not necessarily deliberate??? but theres no perfectionism in this house, which helps a lot so i don't spend ages fussing over minute details (im a perfectionist at heart but a lazy one LOL)

giving myself time deadlines is also really helpful, like "i have to finish the lineart im the next half an hour" has been really good for getting me to focus and get things done, even if i don't make the 'deadline'. i think generally being conscious of how i use my time is good

okay so circumstantial (?) things-

ALSO USE REFERENCES they help a lot!!! stumbling around trying to figure things out on your own is time consuming, don't be scared of using references!

this isn't a speed thing but i think it's important to note that i spend like ALL my free time drawing, probably to a ridiculous degree. i draw during my work break, i draw after work, on the weekend, speed is nothing in the face of time lol. im usually tired after work but im also stubborn so i try to push through and draw anyway (50/50 chance it works and i get something done or i just sit there in a daze wishing i was asleep LOL)

im also a dumbass who takes on way too much, i have a whole buncha zines and commissions constantly at all times cause i can never say no so i kinda just HAVE to be fast to keep up with everything. i don't recommend it but it's a thing ashdjfj

i also used to be on tiktok and for some god forsaken reason i spent like a solid few months consistently posting 3 times per day which burnt me out SO fast and i absolutely don't recommend but it definitely required speed lol

i will also say that as i draw more and feel more comfortable in my art it comes to me a lot more naturally, and i'm able to make decisions on the fly a lot easier

also okay so starr lore my dad used to be really against me drawing so i would have to sneak onto the computer when he was out of the house hahaha, this gave me anywhere from 30 mins to 2 hours per day to do whatever i wanted, so i had to quickly adapt to that and be super fast if i ever wanted to get anything done

again speed isnt the be all end all of anything, tbh most of this is just my brain working in weird ways that prefers the quicker pace so please don't compare yourself!!

okay long ass ramble over thanks for reading <3333

[kuzuhina1brainrot]

Have wip

rambling and stupid shit under. Venting I guess! (Long, If u even end up reading this shit)

This. This was the one week off I had and I spent it laying in bed and cleaning and shit instead of drawing and stuff like I’d hope. Last week I was like omg I’m gonna be them drawing so much ill reach 220!!! Because I had ideas. I’m still at 215 rn. I only get the motivation when I don’t have the time why couldn’t it have stayed. 😞 I haven’t drawn much this week and that may sound like nothing but it’s weird because usually I’m able to keep up and constantly do stuff.

Every year, April is the worst for me mentally ????Like. Bad.somehow it just is. so don’t expect much this month from me lol.!! Unless I end up feeling bad and trying to pump out shit

like we are 4 days in and I have not been feeling good

it’s weird, as soon April came my mood dropped further and further. the worse it gets, the more I try to distract myself from it. YESTERDAY I SPENT MY WHOLE MORNING THINKING ABOUT GRAVEYARDS AND I KEEP STAYING UP UNTIL 1 IN THE MORNING WHEN I ACTUALLY DON’T NEED TO BECAUSE NOW I HAVE THIS WEIRD FEELING GROWING ON ME WHERE I JUST DONT WANNA LEAVE MY FRIENDS AND STOP TALKING EVEN IF IM TIRED? I LITERALLY WAIT UNTIL EVERYONES OFFLINE TO SLEEP LMAO?? The changes I’ve noticed altogether: not motivated to even draw Kuzuhina which is odd, eating junk and like no real food at all unless someone reminds me to, staying up for my friends, not wanting to get out of bed and do shit I’m supposed to. And then next week I gotta go back. Kill me ion wanna

I know it’s a bunch of little stuff, it’s just weird

anyway love u person reading go eat and get water or something have good day or night goofy

[pjisskullourful]

hey my gorgeous ones!

so my funk is continuing(hoofuckinray). theres just some shit going on in my personal life& the emotional fatigue has bled into creative constipation& im really struggling to get much of anything written. i've switched off commissions for the moment, just wanting to take it a bit easy on myself while im trying to get back on my bullshit

as a please-dont-hate-me for the delays that are ongoing, here is the first almost 2k of chapter 25 of stained sheets. its all i have sofar, there are two whole more scenes to write so i genuinely cant say when you'll be getting it

thanks for any patience& understanding you swing my way. stay selfishly happy my thotties

You paused from closing the fly on your high-waisted pants - you had been trying on the outfit you wanted to wear to dinner tonight, but something had caught your eye, distracting you.

A jagged, dark line reached up from just above the waistband of your underwear. This stretch mark was brand new to your eyes. It hit you like an actual wound, your gut twisting and your mind racing.

As your throat clenched, you stopped caring about checking that your choice of outfit was cute or not. You hated this intruder on the side of your tummy. This new line was a failure on your part, maybe if you weren’t so lazy, or spent less time playing video games, you could have avoided gaining another mark in your ugly collection. You were frozen with the top of your pants in your hands.

How long had this mark been on your body? Had Damiano seen it - what did he think when he looked at it?

This was supposed to be a fun day - the day before Easter, and some friends of his were hosting a dinner that would end in an egg hunt through their garden. You were going to be meeting more of the people he had grown up with. But most importantly, you were getting to spend the whole weekend with him, there hadn’t been many of those so far this year. There was no Måneskin-business to take him out of the country, he was just your boyfriend this weekend.

You didn’t want to waste any of this precious time with your insecurities. You wished you hadn’t seen the line, because it hadn’t been as simple as noticing it. You were having a full reaction to it. The change of mood inside of you was almost a tangible sensation.

You didn’t know how to resolve it, you just knew that you wanted the unpleasantness to stop. Your  solution was to physically move away from it. You undressed without completing the try-on process, so desperate to walk away and pretend this negativity didn’t exist. You just needed to refresh yourself and then you would be able to get back on the right track.

“I’m gonna have a shower.” You loudly announced without knowing if he actually heard you. He might be outside having a cigarette, or otherwise occupied too far from the bedroom.

You went into the bathroom and stopped at the vanity, pulling your hairbrush out of a draw. You took your hair down and started brushing through any tangles. Standing in front of the wide mirror, it wasn’t easy to keep your concentration on your hair. Your eyes wanted to wander, to find other flaws in the reflection to tear yourself apart over.

Until you were given the perfect distraction. Your boyfriend came into the room, his figure filling the reflection behind you. He was dressed in only a pair of underwear, wearing a festive headband on top of his short hair. It was enough to make you smile, even though you had to feign annoyance.

“Take those off.” You said as sternly as you could manage.

“You got it, baby.” He said, promptly taking his briefs off.

You were amused, even as you rolled your eyes. You turned your back on the mirror, more than happy to put all of your attention on him. “I meant the bunny ears and you know it.”

The fuzzy rabbit ears remained fixed on his head as he furrowed his brow. “I’m confused, do you want me to put the underwear back on?”

“Damiano.” You warned, but this only resulted in getting him to say your name back to you, in a sing-songy way, delivered with a positively devilish smile. “I never should have let you take the ears from my office…”

His eyes grew wide and he pointed an accusing finger at you. “You were the one who took them.”

You let this unserious discussion progress, exaggerating your shock. “How dare you accuse me.”

“No, how dare you. I was just there to pick you up from work. You were the one who pulled them out of the cute little window display and put them on my head.” He said.

“I didn’t think you were going to walk out still wearing them. And I was kind of distracted, I was working.” You added to his recollection. “Now you must take them off before they get stretched or broken ‘cause I’ve gotta put them back, they’ll probably be part of next year’s Easter display.”

He resisted, still. “I like them. You have to agree that they look better on me than they did in the window.”

“I agree.” You said. “Now take them off.”

The thing that was stopping you from simply snatching the accessory off of him, was the knowledge of how getting too close to him would change this situation entirely. He could physically overpower you in an instant and any illusion of you having some control would be banished.

“You can ask nicer than that, kitty.” He said, very clearly enjoying this teasing.

“Can you please take the ears off for me, please and thank you.” You said, even clasping your hands together in front of yourself to further sell it.

He cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t hear a single word you said. It’s kinda hard to hear you over all of those clothes you’re wearing.”

You reminded yourself how much you enjoyed being called a ‘good girl’ as inspiration to help you bite back any sarcastic comments. You even resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

You removed the two items that you were wearing - a bra and a pair of panties. You cupped your hands to either side of your mouth and spoke at a much higher volume. “Can you hear me now?”

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, did you have a request for me or something?”

“Can you please take those ears off for me, please?” You asked.

“Why, of course I can.” He said, plucking the accessory off of his head. “Here you go.”

You snatched it out of his hand, holding it securely in both of yours. “I’m gonna find someplace to hide these from you.”

“I can’t imagine why you would think that’s necessary. I’ll get the shower started while you do that, shall I?”

This made you pause from leaving the room. “Oh, you’re joining me?”

“Yeah, unless that’s not okay? I thought we should shower together, to save water.” He said.

You smirked. “To save water. Yep, that’s fine.”

You carried the confiscated item over to where you kept your work bag. It was enough to put it into your bag and shut the zipper. If he pulled it out of there he would be in the wrong - you’d both know it, and any argument would be in your favour.

When you returned to the bathroom, it was to find him standing under the stream of water. You were further distracted from your earlier issues as you admired how great he looked when soaking wet.

He turned his head and smiled at the sight of you, beckoning you in with a curling of his finger. You stepped in, sliding the door shut behind yourself. You shouldn’t have been surprised when he was instantly drawing you in for kisses, his hands cradling your face. There were times when the two of you could share a focused shower, spending as much time washing yourselves as you did making out.

But the look he had given you had indicated that this wasn’t the case for today. You linked your arms around his waist, indulging in this as the noise of the persistent water blocked out everything else. You felt how easy it would be to melt as his mouth worked tenderly against yours.

His hands left your face, slowly moving down to where the water had already reached. He started to kiss his way off of your mouth, his lips pressing against your chin before going lower. You couldn’t help arching your back into him as his lips worked across your throat. This was the closeness that you absolutely ached for when he was away, showers (like pretty much everything else) were so dull without him.

But -

“I need to wash my hair. This shower was supposed to have purpose.” You said.

He stopped what he was doing to look up at you. “Nobody’s stopping you from washing your hair. Look, I’ll even help. I’ve got lots of time to help with washing your hair these days.”

“I could return the favour and use my volumising shampoo on your hair.” You said of his well maintained buzzcut.

He wore a deadpan expression, blinking at you. “Hilarious. I swear, you’ve missed your calling in life. You shouldn’t be doing admin work- stand-up comedy, that’s where you should be. Netflix would give you a special so fast.”

“Because I’m a special girl.” You said as he let go of you to grab the shampoo bottle.

The intimacy wasn’t totally lost in this process. The two of you remained standing very close together (even though there was ample room for each of you in here) and you took every opportunity to touch him.

When he began to massage the shampoo into your scalp, you could have let out a moan of pleasure. You shut your eyes and soaked up every second of his attentiveness. His fingers slowly dragging across your scalp was the only thing that you needed right now.

“Stop making that face.” He said, his voice so stern that your eyes instantly snapped open, you were practically ready to apologise at once. “That’s a sex face and if you keep it up you’re gonna get me hard, which isn’t the purpose of this shower, right?”

You almost began giggling, you covered your face with both of your hands. “I didn’t mean to. I, I guess I was enjoying myself a little too much.”

“I’ll say.”

You parted your fingers to peek at him. “Did I really do a sex face?”

“Oh, yes. If you want me to get specific- it was your edging face. When I see that face I know that I’m doing it right and your brain is getting all empty.” He said before instructing you to tilt your head back under the stream of water.

As he rinsed all of the product out of your hair, you physically cringed. “Oh my God, I hope I don’t make that face when they’re washing my hair at the hairdressers.”

“Relax baby, I’m the only one who knows that face is linked to naughtiness.” He said.

You tried your best to stay in constant awareness, and control, over your facial expressions as he conditioned your hair. The lack of massaging on your scalp kept you from that floaty feeling.

“What do you think, is that up to your standards?” He asked, losing the careful look on his face that he had been wearing during this task.

You tested his work by running your fingers through the ends of your hair. “It feels perfect. Thank you, Daddy.” You reached out to tap the end of his nose.

[erogurosuffering]

The Start of This…Mess

So maybe to start my blog, I should start with how I got into this mess in the first place.

I don’t quite remember, but it was for sure Reddit. I was scrolling through anime memes (a sin in it self), and found these strange numbers.

177013

If I could go back and stop myself from searching these numbers, I would in a heartbeat, because I had just open Pandora’s Box, a box I should have never opened.

But enough with the literary stuff (I like writing), I found out what the numbers meant. A disturbing manga called “Metamorphosis(Emergence?)”

I was hooked on finding out what was so disturbing. After all, before this, I was in a phase of disturbing movies and real gore videos, which is a story for another day. I thought, “well drawings won’t be nearly as disturbing as real people getting mutilated and tortured right?

right…?”

So I found the site I could read it on. No, not the adware infested one, the .net safe one.

I found the manga, and began reading…

Chances are, if you are into guro manga, 177013 or another (which I WILL get to) are what introduced you to the topic in the first place, so i’ll only talk about my experiences, for now…

So I read it. I read 177013. What did I think? Was I traumatized like everybody else? Did I hate it? Was I able to recover?

Well no…to the first two. I actually thought it was very tame. Why?

Because it’s not really guro, it’s hentai.

Now normal people would think “how the fuck is this not disturbing!?” The story is fucked up yes, but compared to guro, this is like comparing Berserk to a SOL manga.

So why is this related to guro? Because it’s what started my journey to it.

For those who don’t know, the site has a “more like this” section on the bottom. Which this one tab, those three words dropped me down the spiral to this rabbit hole.

I saw a weird looking fetish manga, clicked on it, “ew scat”. Scrolled down, “cool gore” kept going. Cannibalism, torture, disembowlment, strange kinks. I kept going. Did I like this stuff? Fuck no. But was it interesting? Hell yeah. I kept going and found this weird manga.

Then I found this weird guro. A guro about doing cruel things to elves. I didn’t find this out till much later, but this is the only guro this artist has created, other than that, they make really wholesome futa stuff. The guro itself, yeah it’s fine. It’s got some comedy, it’s fucked up and really detailed on gore, but it’s nothing special. I got a bit disturbed by it, but recovered. And so, this is where it all falls flat. I didn’t know it yet, but those couple minutes I spent on it, would be the last time my mental health would be normal.

I scroll down to the “more like this” and I find it. That guro. That godforsaken, fucking guro.

The same guro which gave me extreme anxiety, panic attacks, many irrational fears, even affecting my PHYSICAL health, to the point where it still affects me months later. I literally have a fear of the cover art, im shaking even just writing this.

But that guro’s story is for another day. Or another post I guess. Because this is a whole different side, a side im still on to this day.

[leorawright]

Ok Im very excited Ive been wanting to request again for months but I work the whole day on Fridays :') but im back to request another mashup cause things have changed since the last one!

i would like to request a TF2 mashup (preferably romantic) with any of the main mercs (might exclude pyro unless you want to make it platonic).

Some stuff about me:

Im a hetersexual cis woman who wants to be a freelance artist, either in illustration or in character design! Right now Im studying illustration and its really fun to learn new techniques! I do get insecure from time to time with my art, but Im very determined to learn what I can and just have fun making art

Personality wise, Im very stoic and serious-looking, keeping to myself most of the time, but once i get comfortable I cant stop talking, like sometimes I have to remind myself to tone it down a little heheh

Once I get into something like a tv show or other series, Im very focused on it and think about it non-stop. For example, Ive been into Seinfeld for almost a year now to the point where one afternoon I spent an hour planning what a Seinfeld video game would look like, yknow, because I could. Sometimes I think about not being as involved in my interests as much as I do, but at the same time thats what makes me happy and drives my creativity, yknow?

Ive also been developing some stories of my own! Im no writer myself, but I love creating storylines and developing them further, whether they're original concepts or based on tf2 or something

As for what Im looking for in a partner, I want someone who can make me laugh. I admire someone who can talk so openly to other people but still be gentle and comforting with me even though Im not a very extroverted person. I want someone who admires my creativity and can listen to me when Im saying something, whether its something serious or not. I want someone who can share in some of my interests, and even when he doesnt he can still appreciate my enthusiam and not say something along the lines of "you're still talking about this?", yknow? Whenever I feel at my worst, I want him to just whisper sweet nothings, without having to try to 'fix' my problems immediately, just letting me slowly feel my emotions and junk. Im pretty much rambling on at this point but basically i just need the bare minimum like opening the door for me to fall in love with someone heh

I have a bit more confidence after attending art school, and Im trying to socialize more, but its still a little draining sometimes, but its still worth it in the end I think!

Uhhhhhhhhhh idk what else to put, this is mostly the bare minimum but I hope you're doing well! Take care and have a good day!

I have the perfect person...

Demoman!

He has the strangest sense of humor but whenever he's able to make you laugh, he absolutely lights up

If you're having a bad day, you bet Demo will do everything in his power to comfort you, whether it's listening to you talk or just telling you terrible jokes until you feel better

Or if you're having one of those days where you just need to cry, Demo will lay beside you and whisper about whatever until you fall asleep

Whenever you talk about your interests, he pays as much attention as possible so you know he's interested

Also, he praises your art so much and loves watching you draw, he thinks it's mesmerizing