#me screaming at my own art as if i wasn’t the one who drew it

[karvviie]

somebody on instragram told me to draw um. errrm. uh. well. uh. um. uh… uh. well uh

[originally posted august 2022]

[ae-neon]

The House of Mirrors

Chapter 10

The Rainbow Gala was divided into two, the first portion consisted of opening speeches, initial presentations – including the debut of student artwork selected specifically for the night – and a serving of appetizers. 

During the intermission preceding the second half, which consisted mostly of bootlicking and ass-kissing the city’s benevolent benefactors; Nesta followed along as Feyre descended to the second floor to survey the pieces that would be auctioned off before the main course was served. 

All around them people chattered, champagne glasses in hand, either too used to fine art to care, or too obviously intent on proving they could identify the style, artist and intent of every piece they came across. 

Nesta paused as Feyre did, in a quieter corner, before a glass display table. The artwork inside too precious to be exposed to the elements but still not protected from the reach of affluence. 

“Did you know? Before the war, Ressina had woven about two dozen tapestries - about only half of which survived - but after the war, after losing her husband, she only ever wove one. The chemicals used to create it eventually blinded her but she insisted she didn't regret it.” Feyre paused before a tapestry woven with thread so dark, Nesta felt like she could reach into it.

It’s plaque read: Void. 

The corner of Feyre's mouth lifted in a cynical smile, "Is it bad I can't imagine loving someone that much? Like, does that mean I'll never make anything this impactful?"

Nesta lifted her grey eyes to the cloth. Black. A consumption. An inescapable pull. The colour of death. And after tonight, no longer something that marked her.

She wasn’t what made her speak but she couldn't seem to hold back any longer, “You don't have to. You don't have to live or die for anyone. And…you don't have to get married.” 

Feyre turned to her, tall and beautiful, dressed in a suit painted with her own design, blue eyes searching, “...what?”

“You have a future, Fey, and so much talent. You don't have to go through with any of this.” it felt like the words were clogging her throat, "You should leave, spend a year in some commune on the Continent, travel, paint, whatever you it is you want."

Feyre stepped closer, already a little taller despite Nesta’s impressive height, blue eyes meeting grey, “You know how much this means to Mom.”

How much had she already done for her mother’s sake? How much more would it take? Only to be undone by a surprise visit and a fucking scarf. Nesta wanted to scream but she was frozen, trapped in a shell built to withstand. Her fingers twitched. But her silence only seemed to agitate her sister.

“You were the one who convinced me to try.” Feyre’s brows bunched and the muscle in her jaw flexed, “And Papa? What about his business? You know he’s been killing himself to keep it running when it was supposed to-” 

They both flinched at the attention they drew but Feyre only lowered her voice, slipped into Scythian, “Is that why you left? Dropped out of school and ran off? You abandoned Papa even when he left his dreams to you. And El? You broke her heart.”

"So it wasn't enough to live for Mama? I have to live for everyone else too? I did my best with the business but it was never my dream." A dull ache began at Nesta's temples, "Don't make the same mistakes as me…even if you stay, don't live your life for them, they'll never know what you've been through."

Feyre sighed, a flicker of regret passing her face, “Look, I knew how bad you had it with Mama. But it wasn’t easy for us either. We were terrified for you. And after...I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know what to think. That you hadn’t done it and you’d be next...or that you had, and you were gonna be locked up.

So when all this started, when you came back, I thought that meant this was important. So I broke up with Isaac - and yea, maybe I wasn't the friendliest but now, when I finally feel like I’m getting somewhere? Now you’re telling me to abandon everything?” 

“You’re right. It isn’t fair of me to say this when I was the one who-” Nesta exhaled, remembering that night after the first dinner, the way Feyre had cried in her arms, “But it was a mistake, I just wanted Mama off my back, I didn’t realise...”

“Is that what this is about? He goes over your head, ruins your chance at getting back into Mom’s good books, and that’s it? I need to throw it all away?"

“You don’t owe her anything-”

“If this is about Mom – you should know how she is. It's not easy for her to talk about these things but it’s not like she wasn’t worried about you. We were all worried about you… Why didn’t you just come home?”

Because I deserved it. Deserved everything that had happened and worse. The words came from some deep well within but couldn't make it past the lump in her throat.

Again agitated by her silence, Feyre swore under her breath and reached for Nesta’s hand, squeezing it in a familiar gesture the two had passed back and forth all their lives,

“I get it. You’re worried, it’s probably terrifying, thinking something might happen to me, but I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of myself. Mom too. So if you can’t...if you need to take a break... that’s okay. 

But that day he came over? When I finally got to speak to Rhys without everyone watching and waiting, like we were animals in a zoo…it was the first time I felt like any of this was actually about me and not just about what everyone else wanted.” 

Nesta felt more than saw Feyre brush past her. Frustration, guilt and fear welled in her, burning her throat and stinging her eyes. 

Because I deserved it.

The words rang in her head, reverberated off her bones, made the floor tilt. 

Tonight, she closed the chapter on Tomas, a chapter than had begun almost a decade ago when she had stolen Clare’s future. But the end of one thing meant the beginning of another, and this time it was something she had no control over. 

She turned and headed for the door. 

~

They had been distant throughout the event. Though, Rhys thought, distant implied they had been close prior. He remembered her in her blue dress, sunglasses perched on her head, rolling her eyes but not fighting the smile that tugged at her lips. Brunch and cheesecake. 

Tonight, Nesta had opted to sit furthest from him at the half circle table they'd been assigned and faced the stage instead of monitoring his conversations with Feyre. 

He didn’t assume it was because of him and the loss of what alliance they might have had - for the little time he had known her, she'd always been half in and out of some haze of memories - but it was difficult to ignore, either way. 

At some point she’d even paused to stare at a statue of a pregnant Bharati goddess for almost 10 minutes. Until a mousy man in a tweed suit had come up and offered his condolences, a cushioning before he remarked that he had first heard of her from a professor at the Calla Velaria School of Law and that it was a shame she had not continued her studies. 

She’d smiled, too sharp, then asked the man if he were enquiring about the legality of paying his mistress to abort their child, and that if he were, he should look elsewhere as - as he had pointed out - she had not finished her degree and was not licensed to advise him, or required to keep his confidentiality.

At that glimpse of the predator, he’d almost let himself hope she might still become an ally. Had almost regretted his urgency in bringing Feyre into the sphere of his influence.  

But then Nesta had wandered off with Feyre, who had returned to the table alone and said nothing as she slid into the chair next to him, still a little stiff but far less standoffish since his visit. 

Eventually, the guests were herded to their places as the second half of the night began. And Mor, as quick to seize an opportunity as he was, took Nesta's seat to chat with Elain, leaving the seat next to Rhys open.

But Nesta never returned. 

Elain, frowning with worry, relaxed a little after her phone buzzed and she answered, ducked down and quiet to avoid attention. She leaned over and had a small exchange with Feyre, her whispered Scythian too quick for Rhys to pick up even as he eavesdropped. 

"Has something happened?" Mor asked. 

"I think she might have been sick," Elain frowned again, almost childish in her expressions, though it was surprisingly endearing, "Or bumped into someone she knows, it seemed like there was someone with her but I'm not sure, she was…"

"Will you be needing a ride home?" Rhys asked, somehow certain Nesta had been the one to drive them there. 

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, I can have Greysen pick us-"

"Nonsense, it's still so early." Mor interjected, "You should come over. I've been dying to meet you but they've been so stiff with all this tradition stuff. We have wine, I can ask Cassian to cook and we can pick up something sweet from Rita's - it's Thursday so they'll have some fresh cake and fruit pie."

He played his part, as Mor played hers, "Mor…" 

But it was Feyre, not Elain - the victim of the web they had been spinning - that spoke. "Sure, it's not like we won't be seeing each other more often, and you're right, all this tradition stuff is so stiff." 

She turned slightly, her blue eyes meeting his, "If it's not a bother…" 

Rhys met her gaze with a blooming interest and an edge of self satisfaction, "Of course not… if that's okay with your sister."

Elain blinked in surprise, blush creeping onto her face, seeming torn for a moment until Feyre reached out to squeeze her hand, "I still think I should go home and at least change into something a little more comfortable first."

"No? That dress is stunning. But, if it's really bothering you, I'm sure you'd fit into something of mine and oh, my god, I have this cute little dress, I never wear it, but it would look perfect on you." Mor took Elain's other hand as Rhys relaxed in his chair, draping his arm over the back of Feyre’s.

[luxudus]

Barosaurus and the Morrison Formation.

    I just finished all my final projects and graduated from my high school, meaning i finally have the time to start posting again! This was a project I made for my high school art class where i had to illustrate something into 4 quadrants, each quadrant being done with differing materials. I was originally considering doing my sophont species: the Xy'ktals. But decided to do something more paleoart related since it was outside of my comfort zone at the time. This project took me almost 2 months to make, I started working on it in late march and submitted it in late may. And almost half of it was spent researching the life of this formation and trying to accurately reconstruct it. I hope you all enjoy this art piece

My Statement

   As an artist who loves the natural world, I became fascinated with the field of paleontology long before I discovered my love for the possibility of alien life. I was introduced to the field by the Jurassic Park film franchise and was thrilled by all the big monsters made to scare. I bought their toys, watched most of the movies, and enjoyed most of it.     Eventually I phased out of Jurassic park. Many years later, when I was into designing aliens, I found a youtuber who made me rethink how I designed alien life. Teaching me that the human body plan is far from universal and we would likely make first contact with something that looked more like a jellyfish or a worm than a human.     While browsing through their other videos I found out they did paleontology, and once again my eyes were open. To see what the natural world looked like before mankind came to be was amazing. Getting to see plants and animals beyond my wildest dreams, so different they might as well be considered aliens. Yet they felt familiar, they felt relatable. That is what made me fall in love with the field.

    Nowadays I casually look into paleoart, looking into the depths of time and into the earliest ages of life as inspiration for my own alien worlds. While working on this assignment, I realized that not many people are up to date with the modern idea of the prehistoric. Most still think of them as scaly screaming scrawny slaughter machines. Some might even still think of them as the lumbering dim-witted kangaroo-like lizards of the 1800s to 1900s. With this work i intend to change that     My goal with this assignment wasn’t just to draw dinosaurs, but to show everyone just how amazing the prehistoric world was. But most importantly, these were animals at the end of the day, not movie monsters made to scare. They lived simple lives of joys and sorrows, felt love, played with each other, and found happiness in the small things. They were no different than the animals of the modern world.

Introduction

    To showcase this, I drew the many species that lived in the Morrison formation of Colorado, Wyoming, and Montana. A basin of sedimentary rock dating to the Jurassic period 150 million years ago. Back then this place was a semi-arid environment, home to swamps, floodplains, and savannahs. But this place didn’t look like modern savannahs now.     For one, angiosperms such as flowers, leafed trees, and grass only evolved some 10 million years after all the dinosaurs went extinct. Meaning almost none of the familiar plants were present in the jurassic. Instead of our familiar faces, Conifers, Cycads, and Ginkgos took the role of trees, horsetails were a common sight, and Ferns took the niche of grass. In fact Ferns were so prevalent they became their own biome known as the Fern Prairies

    The animals are also far different too. Unlike the depictions spurred on by Jurassic park, of big, gaunt, and mindlessly ravenous reptiles designed to kill. Through finely preserved fossils we now know most of them were covered in varying degrees of feathers. Some may have had simple hair-like feathers while others were almost birdlike in appearance, since birds actually evolved from dinosaurs.     Pretty much every dinosaur that didn’t have a beak had lips covering their teeth. Their hands would have faced each other rather than pointing downwards. Lastly we know that pretty much all of them were covered in enough fat and muscle to not have every detail of their bones poking out like a starved animal     The winged bird like-creatures named Pterosaurs too have changed a lot. We now know they were also covered in fur, and were possibly brightly colored too. their hands faced each other in the same way the dinosaurs did. Surprisingly they walked on the balls of their feet like us, and some were even postured like us too.

Barosaurus: the main star     The dinosaur that’s the focus of this piece is a young male Barosaurus as he stands near a conifer tree. Relaxing in the cool moist air brought on by the passing rain of a Cumulonimbus cloud     Barosaurus was an enormous species of herbivorous dinosaur that helped define the Morrison formation along with many other species. They were a part of the clade Sauropoda, a group of herbivorous dinosaurs renowned for their extremely long necks and equally long tails.     Barosaurus wasn't the longest or the strongest sauropod. but it was still impressive at a staggering 82-89 feet long. This behemoth was so huge their front arm alone was as big as a human. Most sauropods had a uniquely weird set of feet. The hind feet were round and had 3 toe claws that pointed outward. While the front feet were horseshoe shaped, with the fingers all fused together and an empty space at the center. Only the “thumb” has a claw while the rest of their fingers were bare, save for possibly a collection of jagged scales that aided in traction.     Like mentioned earlier, Barosaurus was an herbivore that specialized in high level browsing. They were also surprisingly flexible, the structure of their neck vertebrae gave them a wide range of motion, allowing them to eat tons of plant matter in wide sweeping motions without having to move an inch.

    Despite their sheer size, the juggernauts of the Jurassic were still preyed on from time to time by Allosaurus and maybe Ceratosaurus. To counter this, the Barosaurus has a few weapons at its disposal, It could possibly rear up on its hind legs to make itself look even larger or even to stomp on incoming attackers. But its greatest weapon was its tail. It was thin and flexible, allowing the Barosaurus and its relatives to whip at their attackers with a thunderous crack, stunning the predators and possibly leaving long stinging cuts in them.     Speculated here, the Barosaurus was given a vibrant set of brown and black patterning as a way to distinguish themselves from other sauropods. They possess a large black dewlap to displace heat all in one area while the main body remains light in pigment and the head mostly white. Several Eye-like patterns run down the neck as a form of sexual display as they could potentially swing their neck around as a display of their flexibility to mates. The tail by contrast is a bright green as both a warning sign to predators and a way to communicate with other barosaurs. And long spines run from the head to the tip of the tail, making their whips even deadlier to any predator even considering going after them.

And now It's time to talk about all the other species that make this formation famous. Organized from left to right

Tile 1: Graphite pencil and Fine art pen     An Ophisthiamimus basks under the sun on a rock in the foreground. They were a 3 inch long reptile that specializes in insect feeding.     Despite its lizard-like appearance it was actually a Rhyncocephalian. A near extinct order of pseudo-beaked reptiles that dominated the early mesozoic, but were beaten back by tue lizards. The only surviving species of this clade is the Tuatara of New zealand

    An old bull Brachiosaurus wanders across the drylands. They were a tall species of sauropod dinosaur that had a length of 57-72 feet long and weighed 28-47 metric tons. They were so big their forearms were as tall as an adult male. They Were herbivorous and browsed on high up plantlife such as the leaves of conifer, ginkgo, cycad, and tree fern leaves.     Speculated here, they could have had a large and flappy dewlap to displace heat. They may have also had several sets of inflatable neck sacs for sexual display since it was found internal air sacs ran down their neck and invaded their bones to reduce weight.

    A small herd of very young Dryosaurs head towards the brachiosaurus for protection, in the same way a school of small fish orbit around a whale.     Dryosaurus was a species of small and nimble ornithiscian dinosaur that may have grown to be 7-9 feet long. They were Herbivores that fed on low lying plantlife, picking them out with their pointy beaks before chewing them with a set of cheek teeth.     So far no fossils of fully grown Dryosaurus have been found yet, so illustrated here instead are very young members of this species. Heavily Speculated here, they might've had a set of feathers turned quills on their tails and arms to stop larger predators from grappling on them. This feature was purely speculative and might've never existed on them.

    A female Harpactognathus catches an unnamed early mammal from a hole in the ground. They were an extinct species of generalist pterosaurs that hunted small inland vertebrates and had a wingspan of 8.2 feet long. They were a part of the family Rhamphorynchidae, an early group of pterosaurs known for possessing toothy beaks and a long, thin tail.

Tile 2: Colored pencil and fine art pen     A young male Allosaurus tries to get with a female of the same species with his elaborate courtship dance. Flailing his arms, rhythmically stomping the ground and bowing his head to reveal the bright red crest, the female however is unimpressed.     Allosaurus was a species of 28-32 froot long theropod dinosaur that was one of 3 apex predators of the Morrison formation. They were discernible by the 2 pointy crests above their eyes. They specialized in hunting large prey such as stegosaurus and will sometimes come together in packs to even hunt sauropods such as Brachiosaurus and Barosaurus. They would've used their short but sharp teeth to slash into prey like a machete and used their short but muscular arms to hold onto their prey.     Speculated here, they could have sported black stripes and white splotches in an attempt at disrupting its outline and masking its eyes and ears. As well as having intricate mating dances that would've shown their flexibility and persistence.

    A young female dryosaurus hides behind the Barosaurus' leg, waiting for the perfect opportunity to avoid the allosaurus and reunite with the herd.

    A male harpactognathus takes off on the back of the Barosaurus. Speculated here, they could've had some sexual dimorphism like their azhdarchid cousins

    2 Mesodactylus play around on top of the back of the Barosaurus/     They were a small species of pterosaurs that belonged to the family Anurognathidae, a group of small round and furry pterosaurs. They were estimated to be between 4-5 centimeters in length.     Sadly not much speculation went into them, other than a faint stripe on the underside of their wings, and the potential presence of play behavior. Something seen in all young mammals, some reptiles, fish, and even bees.

Tile 3: watercolor paint, a bit of acrylic paint, and a bit of Graphite pencil     A herd of Camptosaurs run towards a lake after a long odyssey across the muddy drylands     They were a species of medium sized Ornithopod dinosaurs that were 20 feet long and 6 feet tall. They were somewhat related to the previously mentioned Dryosaurus but are closely related to Iguanodon. One of the first dinosaurs ever discovered and named. They have 5 fingers on their front arm but only the front 3 end in claws     They were somewhat slow herbivores that may have lived in small herds, browsing on medium sized plants and competing with the many similar sized herbivores in the region.

    A pair of male Gargoylesaurs rest under a conifer tree     Gargoylesaurus was a small species of armored herbivorous dinosaur ranging from 10-11 feet long but less than 3 feet tall. They are an early member of the family Nodosauridae in the Suborder Ankylosauria, meaning this dinosaur is related to the somewhat famous Ankylosaurus.     Not much was speculated here other than the presence of a blue stripe running down their face as a form of sexual display

A lone Cycad tree amongst the fern prairie

Tile 4: Digital art

    A stegosaurus gets inspected by a young and curious Ceratosaurus

Stegosaurus was a medium sized herbivorous dinosaur that was 23 feet long and 10 feet tall at the back. They can be easily recognized by the large asymmetrical dorsal plates running down the neck, body, to the tail. As well as the presence of 4 tail spikes named the Thagomizer.     They were herbivores that fed on ferns, horsetails, and cycads with their uniquely crown shaped teeth. They could’ve possibly been carriers for Cycad seeds the same way elephants help disperse the seeds of savannah trees.     Speculated here, the dorsal plates and thagomizer are brightly colored orange as a threat display towards their predators such as Allosaurus and Ceratosaurus.

Ceratosaurus was the second of 3 apex predators of the morrison formation. They were a medium sized carnivorous theropod that ranged from 21-22 feet long and 5.2-6.5 feet tall. They are discernable by the 3 hump shaped crests on top of their head, their long and slender teeth, and the presence of osteoderms running down their body.     They shared the same habitat as Allosaurus, and could’ve possibly fed on similar prey such as stegosaurus, ornithopods, and possibly sauropods. Uniquely it has been suggested that Ceratosaurus could’ve fed on fish too as a way to avoid competition with Allosaurus     Not much has been speculated on their design other than a bright yellow face as a form of sexual display and horizontal stripes possibly as a form of motion dazzle camoflauge.

    A Kepodactylus soars across the fern prairie with an unnamed reptile in its mouth.     Kepodactylus was a species of medium-sized pterosaur from the family Ctenochasmatidae, their distinct from other pterosaurs by possessing a crest akin to the later on azhdarchid pterosaurs while also having teeth akin to the Rhamphorhynchoid Pterosaurs. This species had a wingspan of 8.2 feet long     The illustration of them eating a reptile, along with the patterning is entirely speculative as there was very little information to go off of.

    Another male Barosaurus observes the one in the middleground, wary on whether or not it could become a friend or foe.     Despite our conception of large herbivores being gentle giants, that idea couldn’t be further from the truth. Many cases in our modern world show large animals such as Goats, rams, boars, water buffalo, rhinoceroses, and even elephants will retaliate against their predators to devastating effects. Hippos of all animals are the absolute epitome of this truth, they are extremely territorial and frequently kill everything that comes too close. At least 500 people die from them every year. In some cases they will even kill baby hippos that they didn’t have a hand in creating, just to ensure their own bloodline succeeds above all others.     It was very possible that prehistoric life could’ve matched this aggression, if not exceeded it. With the barosaurus’ ability to rear up on its hind legs, It could’ve used this to clash with other barosaurs. Whether it be over territorial disputes, fighting for potential mates, or simple distrust.

    A male stokesosaurus basks on a pile of rocks in the foreground, getting ready to fan out its neck plumage to cool off     Stokesosaurus was a 10-13 feet long theropod dinosaur that was apart of the clade Proceratosauridae and the superfamily Tyrannosauridea. Meaning this dinosaur was a somewhat distant relative to the world famous cretaceous era superpredator Tyrannosaurus rex     Speculated here, Their coat of feathers is a stark black to combat UV radiation, they possess a patch of neck plumage that could fan out to displace heat. With the streaks of white stripes helping break up its outline and cool down what could’ve been the heat sensitive parts of its body. They could’ve also had a white underbelly to form countershading     Fun fact: one of my friends has the same last name as the first part of this dinosaur's name, so as a tribute to our friendship I modeled the patterning and coloration of him. The neck plumage a tribute to his hair, and the coloration based off his clothing

[a-myriad-of-stars]

When Maggie was about to turn 8, she’d already met the turtles at the playground near her brownstone in Greenwich Village.

She was planning an awesome party for her birthday, and invited everyone in her 2nd grade class to come, as well as the turtles.

The only ones to show up were Leo and Donnie.

Splinter told Leo he couldn’t go, and that it’d be too dangerous to be seen by other children and risk exposure. But this was Leo’s best friend we’re talking about! So after bribing Raph and Mikey to cover for him, Leo dragged Donnie to the party.

Only there was no party.

What there was, was a very torn up Maggie, sitting in the bay window, crying her eyes out. Seeing Leo and Donnie approaching, she dried her eyes and opened the front door.

Leo explained he couldn’t stay long, but he had a gift-poorly wrapped in an old newspaper- and she had to open it right this second.

What Maggie found beneath that musty newspaper was a well loved, scuffed and chipped, Jupiter Jim figure from Leo’s own collection.

“Why’d you give me a beat up old toy from a series I’ve never seen before?”

Leo puffed up a bit at her pickiness. “This Jupiter Jim figure was the first in my collection, and it’s my most precious possession.”

Maggie quirked her brow. “So why give it to me if it’s so precious?”

“Well, because besides my brothers, you’re the only friend I’ve got, so that makes you precious to me too. So I figured my most precious things should be together.”

Maggie’s watery smile wasn’t lost on Leo, and she immediately gave him half her cake, as a thank you for showing up, and for such a sentimental gift.

She held onto that Jupiter Jim figure, keeping him in her backpack. Even when she was kidnapped by Draxum, experimented on, and then given to Big Mama, she miraculously held onto the figure. When all felt lost or dark, she’d take out the toy, and remember there were people in the world who cared for her, and missed her. People she’d do anything to get back to.

When it was the twins’ birthday, Maggie went all out. She’d missed Raph and Mikey’s birthdays, so she got them presents as well; Raph’s first teddy bear, and Mikey’s first real art supplies pack from the scholastic catalog. Donnie’s love of science was bones deep even at 8, so his gift was a chemistry set, also from the scholastic catalog.

Leo’s gift was something Maggie found in a thrift store while out with her dad, and knew it would be perfect.

“Okay, so before you open it,” Maggie said, “you have to know. There’s no one besides you guys that I consider my friends anymore. And, the JJ figure you gave me gives me courage to be myself and keep my head up, even when people make fun of me, or are mean. Your gift helps me every day. So I hope this helps you somehow, even if it’s just knowing i care about you. You never know when something small might make a difference.”

The box in leo’s hand contained a thermos. But not just any thermos. A limited edition, Lou Jitsu Hot Soup thermos.

There were no words for the way Leo felt upon opening his gift, so all he could think to do was hug Maggie as tight as he could and scream “THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU” at the top of his lungs. He cherished that thermos and the friendship that brought it to him.

When Maggie went missing halfway to her 10th birthday, Leo was inconsolable. 

That was his best friend. And she was just…gone? No, he couldn’t accept that. Even when Maggie’s parents stopped looking, Leo never did. The week after she vanished, Leo drew a map that led to the lair, and stuffed it inside his Lou Jitsu thermos, knowing the airtight seal would protect the paper from the elements. He snuck out to the park where he and Maggie first met, and buried the thermos under the initials “L + M” he’d carved in the wooden side of the sandbox some time back. With a kitchen knife, Leo circled the “M”, and drew an arrow pointing into the dirt, directly over where thermos was buried. He kept the cup separate, as a way to remember his friend, and hope she’d come home one day.

Eventually, Maggie escaped Big Mama’s clutches, and found her way back to her old neighborhood. She debated for an hour whether or not she’d knock on her parent’s door, and eventually decided against it. Before she left, she passed by the sandbox, and noticed the worn initials on the side, along with the circle and arrow. She dug in the dirt, found the thermos, and the note inside, which led her to the old lair. The entrance had collapsed from the fight with shredder two years prior, but Leo’d thought of that, leaving a blue spray paint line leading to the new location.

Maggie followed the line, tripping a sensor in the process, which notified Donnie, who told Leo. Leo bolted in the direction the sensor mentioned, and found Maggie.

He was skeptical at first, until she showed him the JJ figure.

It was because of Leo’s gift that Maggie held on to hope, and it was because of Maggie’s gift to Leo that he was able to lead her home.

[kxlinthesky]

EPISODE 3 LIGHT NOVEL Chapter 2-1 English Translation

In the dead of night, a steam train sliced through the darkness.

It was an intimidating presence, this exhaust-powered iron horse. It thundered over the tracks, kicking up a racket that shattered the stillness of the night as it galloped toward its destination. Copious clouds of white steam belched into the air. Its whistle pierced the black sky like a death throe. Its tracks took it through a thick forest in a gorge, the foliage so dense that even under the light of the moon it looked like nothing more than an unbroken black wall.

This northbound locomotive was a sleeper train for the wealthy class. Passengers slept in glamorous, art noveau-style rooms.

For some, in an endless sleep from which they would never awaken….

Tap-tap! Knuckles rapped lightly against the door to one of the deluxe suites, followed by a steward’s voice. “Mister Johnny, I’ve brought you your meal,” he called.

There was no response.

“Mister Johnny?” Uncertainty slipped into the steward’s tone. “I was asked by the conductor to prepare your meal…?”

Again, no response. The steward hesitantly pulled the door open.

Immediately, his voice rose in a shrill scream as he beheld the scene before him. The passenger he’d come calling on had completely changed since the last time they’d spoken. The man was collapsed in a pitiable, merciless heap on the floor, with everything from the nape of his neck to the center of his chest dyed a deep, rich scarlet. For a brief instant, it almost looked like a rose had wildly bloomed to life on his body, but of course that wasn’t the case.

CRASH! The tableware cascaded to the floor, and flustered footsteps rushed off through the corridor. The steward nearly tripped over his own feet several times during his mad dash through the carriages, but he eventually reached his destination. With a trembling hand, he reached out and yanked the knob of the door of the dining car, then burst in and shouted to the young woman seated at the far end.

“T-Terrible news! Mister Johnny has passed away in his room!”

All eyes turned to him.

Overhead, the whistle gave a shrill cry.

 ■■■■■■■■■■

 PIII------! The sudden blast of a whistle jolted Owl awake.

Disoriented from being yanked to the surface after sinking so deep, he reflexively leaped back only for his skull to slam into the solid wall behind him, and the impact drew a yelp of pain from him.

“Oh dear, are you all right?” said an easygoing voice from somewhere in front of him.

“… No.” Owl clutched the back of his head. When he opened his eyes, he jolted again, shoulders jumping up. Clemens’ face was right in front of his, so close their noses were almost touching. Owl groaned, “What’re you doing, Clemens? You startled me.”

“Ah, my apologies. I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“Anyone would be surprised seeing your face that close the second they woke up!” Owl reached out with the hand not cradling his skull and angrily shoved the other man away as hard as he could, pushing him all the way back to the opposite wall.

“How cold.” Clemens let out a throaty chuckle, completely unapologetic. The decorative chain hanging from his neck rustled with his movement.

Owl’s gaze roved from the violet stole hanging down the man’s shoulders to the cassock underneath, a dubious frown rising to his face. Yes, the person before Owl was a priest, a man who offered prayers to God, by the name of Clemens. He was captivatingly beautiful, with long silver hair tied in an elegant braid, fair skin, and striking golden eyes.

Owl, however, wasn’t captivated. He simply leaned against the armrest of the sofa, chin resting delicately in his hand, and snapped, “Just don’t do it again.” His eyes slid over to the window. The world outside raced past at top speed, too fast to make out much detail – unsurprising, given that they were currently aboard a sleeper train. They were sharing a second-class cabin for two, which swayed gently to the fixed rhythm of the clattering wheels below. He and Clemens were facing each other on a pullout sofa.

“You had me slightly worried, is all, so I was checking on you,” said Clemens. The priest’s gaze fell to his hands, where his fingers carefully held a needle stuck in some fabric draped across his knees.

“Worried?” asked Owl. “About what?”

“You were crying out in your sleep. Were you having a nightmare, by chance? Or is there perhaps something troubling you?”

Owl’s mouth unconsciously clamped shut.

“It seems I hit the bull’s-eye.” A smug smile spread across Clemens’ face. In the calm, confidential tone of a man in a confessional, he continued, “Please, tell me what ails you. Luckily for you, the man before your eyes happens to be a priest.”

“Absolutely not,” was Owl’s frank, cautious reply. “I’m not so up in arms about this that I’d talk about my problems with a guy with even more secrets than me.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Clemens readily agreed, stabbing the needle into the fabric. At least he was self-aware. “But I also think you could stand to start being a bit more friendly with me. You get along so well with Byron, after all.”

“More friendly, huh….”

“Isn’t it lonely, my little stray cat?” Clemens’ eyes narrowed meaningfully, and Owl leaned back again from his probing golden gaze. Contrary to his words, those eyes had a powerful pull to them. The detective was certain – the priest was a predator, not prey. There was no telling what he’d do if he sensed an opening.

“… Don’t call me what Byron calls me.”

“It’s fine, isn’t it? It fits you and Nick perfectly – a pair of stray cat brothers.”

“If I’m really a stray cat, then I can’t start getting ‘friendly,’ now, can I? Now, if you gave me some good food, then it’d be a different story.”

“Ah, so the way to a stray’s heart is through their stomach, then.” That explained how Byron had managed it. Clemens nodded to himself. “Well, then, why don’t I treat you to some cake in the dining car?”

It was slight, but Owl reacted to that. “Cake…? Now that you mention it, Ellie wanted some.”

Clemens got the distinct impression that he’d just grabbed the reins of the conversation and was quick to capitalize. “I peeked in there earlier and saw a steward carrying a tray of mirlitons. You like those fruity cakes Byron makes, right? The ones here use a fair bit of apricot. What do you say?”

Owl’s gaze wandered away, wavering and hesitant. His earlier trepidation wasn’t completely gone, but Clemens waited patiently, and after a moment the detective’s eyes slid back over to the window. His whisper was barely louder than a breath. “It’s because of the forest.”

“The forest?”

“We’ve been going through a forest this whole time. It’s pitch-black out there.”

Owl pointed. Clemens followed his finger. Sure enough, the view outside was black as tar. “Yes, I suppose so,” agreed Clemens. “Most likely because this route runs through a gorge until the last stop.”

Owl took a deep breath. “I got lost in a dark forest like this once,” he admitted. “A long time ago, when I was a kid. I was remembering that.”

“Ah… so that’s why you were crying out.”

“Yeah. That’s all.”

When Owl spoke so curtly, it was easy to see the teenager lurking underneath the detective veneer. Clemens smiled and nodded. “I see. Well, then, as promised, let me get you some cake. You were kind enough to tell me your precious secret, and I’ll soon be done with this, anyway.”

“Done with… what are you doing?” Owl turned his attention to Clemens’ hands. The priest had been fiddling with something this whole time.

“What, you can’t tell? I’m sewing.”

“Sewing?”

“Indeed. I found at least five little holes in your gilet. I would bet you let some sparks fly at some point and scorched it. I’m mending it for you.”

“… How?”

“Ordinarily I’d leisurely weave the holes shut using invisible mending, but we’re on a swaying train, so I’m afraid I can’t. Instead, I fit some fabric from the inner pocket into the holes and stitched them together.” Clemens snipped the thread with a pair of sewing scissors and held the mended gilet up. “See for yourself – you can’t even tell where the holes were, can you?”

There was, indeed, no sign of any damage to the vest. However, that wasn’t Owl’s main concern. “That’s not it! I’m asking when and how you took it off me in the first place! I was wearing it, wasn’t I? I don’t remember being stripped!” He snatched the cleanly-mended gilet back, looking like he’d just experienced a particularly skillful magic trick. He’s most likely been removed of his vest while he’d been dozing, yes, but he hadn’t meant to fall that deeply asleep. He hadn’t felt even the slightest hint of what had happened.

Clemens’ eyes narrowed, looking for all the world like a pleased cat. “Do you really want to know?” he murmured, leaning forward. “I don’t mind teaching you if you’re truly interested.”

“Not necessary,” Owl retorted as he slipped the gilet back on and buttoned it up.

“You never know, it may be of use to you in your detective work.”

“A detective doesn’t need to know stuff like that!”

“Are you shy? Goodness, doesn’t it get boring being so dull?”

“Is being boring really the issue here?”

“Oh, it certainly is. A life without excitement is nothing less than torture.”

“Those are words that really shouldn’t be coming out of a holy man’s mouth… well, whatever. You’re getting me cake, right? Lead the way.”

Owl made to stand up, but he was interrupted by the door to their cabin opening and a cheery voice butting in. “What’s this? You’re leaving the girls out of cake talk? Well, that’s just rude!”

A glamorous young woman stood in the doorway. Her flaxen hair was glossy, her lips were painted with vivid pink rouge, and her cherry eye shadow made the jade green of her eyes pop. However, her gorgeous appearance didn’t extend to her clothes, as her black veil and habit denoted her as a nun. The decoration affixed to her collar matched the one Clemens had.

“Is Clemens buying? Then I want the butter pudding with the dark cherry in it!” The sister chattered on as she stepped into the room. “Hey, Ellie, which cake do you want? I heard that Bakewell pudding and fairy cakes are popular around here.”

A small girl closely followed the nun inside, clad in a scarlet robe. She slipped into the seat next to Owl with a quiet, “I’m back.”

Owl smiled and patted her head. “Welcome back, Ellie. Did you have fun exploring the train?” he asked. The girl, Ellie, gave a tiny nod, looking ever so slightly satisfied.

Clemens ignored the pair on the couch and turned to chide the nun. “Elnora, Ellie doesn’t have that much stamina. Please stop dragging her all over the place, will you?”

“But she was having so much fun, though.”

“Yes, excitement from her first train ride, I suspect. Her condition will probably deteriorate when the fatigue sets in.”

Sister Elnora was having none of it. Her chest puffed out indignantly. “What’s with you, making me out to be the bad guy here? You’re always hogging Ellie all to yourself making her study and do volunteer work, so you don’t get to complain when it’s my turn to play with her!” With her eyebrows raised high and her lips pressed in a prim, displeased line, she looked exactly like a queen of some distant land.

Clemens’ shoulders drooped at her decidedly un-sisterly attitude, resigned. “It wasn’t a complaint,” he tried. “I was simply –”

“Don’t,” a new voice cut in.

“Hm?”

“Don’t fight.” Ellie pulled on his sleeve, gently shaking her head. “Don’t get mad at Elnora.”

“Uh….” Clemens blinked down at her, surprised.

Next to him, Elnora clasped her hands together in front of her chest, her eyebrows curving upward and her cheeks flushing a rosy pink. “Ahh, Ellie!” she squealed. “You’re exactly right! Fighting is super-bad! You’re such a nice girl! I love you!” As emotional exclamations fell from her lips, she squeezed Ellie tight.

“You’re not fighting?” Ellie checked, somewhat disoriented by the sudden hug.

“We’re not,” Elnora assured her, pressing her cheek into Ellie’s. “Fighting is so savage, anyway.”

She glared at Clemens out of the corner of her eye as she spoke. Sensing the implicit “that’s that, so don’t say another word,” Clemens raised both his hands and swallowed any further complaints. Young women like those two seemed to be a weakness of his.

Having confirmed that there would be nothing else from Clemens, Elnora announced, “Well, let’s go!” and merrily left the room again, tugging Ellie with her.

“Elnora….”

Clemens was about to warn Elnora about dragging Ellie around again, but before he could get a word in edgewise the nun pointed in the direction of the dining car and said, “What are you doing? We’re getting cake, right? You said you were paying! Let’s get going already!”

“Yeah, before we all forget,” agreed Owl as he stood and followed after the two girls.

Clemens sighed, “My, oh, my… these princesses just can’t keep still.” Still, he rose from the couch as well.

 -- He was soon to regret it, however.

 “This trifle’s the best! And the mince pie has so much cherry inside, it’s sooo good!”

“The mirliton’s pretty good, too.”

“The brownie tastes nice….”

“This fudge comes with this cream, adds some nice sweetness to it. Owl, try some.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I’m giving Ellie the apple crumble. How’s the fairy cake?”

“Thank you….”

Elnora and Ellie had certainly been enthusiastic. The four were seated around a table piled precariously high with cakes and other sweets. Clemens watched the others stab their forks into the wide array of treats laid out before them, quietly sipping a coffee. “I know I said I would treat everyone,” he commented, “but isn’t this a bit much?”

Ellie glanced over at the priest, who had yet to take a single bite of anything. “You’re not eating, Clemens?” she asked.

“No, he’s not,” Elnora cut in before Clemens could reply. “He only likes the cakes Byron makes. Apparently the ones they serve at restaurants are ‘too sweet.’ He’s so spoiled.~”

“I have a sensitive tongue,” Clemens corrected indignantly.

“Oh, I know aaall about how sensitive your tongue is,” Elnora fired back, her words laden with hidden meaning. Her attention soon returned to the sweets, though, and she happily stuffed a piece of fudge in her mouth. “Gotta say, though, we’re pretty lucky, getting to sit around eating our fill. We made the right call! Do you think Nick will be jealous? I took the ticket meant for him, after all… maybe I should bring him a souvenir.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” answered Owl. “He had a sudden request pop up, it happens. But the person who’s helping him, Ritz, might like one. She’s got a sweet tooth.”

“They’re working together?” Elnora pitched forward, eyes sparkling with interest. “They must be close, then… what do you think?”

“… About what?”

Elnora rolled her eyes. “Ah, no, sorry. I should’ve known better than to ask the blockhead.” Of course, talk like that wouldn’t grab the detective’s attention. Owl kept on eating, head tilted. Either he didn’t have any interest in romance, or he was just dense.

Clemens picked up the thread of conversation. “Are they perhaps investigating the disappearance of that young noblewoman? It didn’t sound like the kind of case that would lend itself to a burgeoning romance.”

“Oh, you can’t know that for sure,” hummed Elnora. “Sometimes just working together is enough for love to blossom.”

Clemens rested his chin in his hand and murmured in a purposely provocative way, “Isn’t that odd, then? Because if that’s true, an entire flowerbed should be growing between us by now.”

“There is. Our flowers are just poisonous.”

“Poisonous?” Owl interjected, mildly troubled and confused.

“Oh, yes,” said Elnora. “Pretty at a glance, unable to bear fruit, and when they wither they fall straight into hell.”

Owl and Ellie fixed the pair with identical curious stares. To them, the priest and nun were speaking borderline gibberish.

Clemens and Elnora. They worked together at the same church, but every so often they did or said something hinting at a relationship that went deeper than merely coworkers. Owl had thought they were lovers at first, but apparently that wasn’t the case. They didn’t seem to particularly like or dislike each other… but they were together for some unexplained reason. The only person who might know something more was Byron, and he wasn’t the type to run his mouth without good reason. Owl had hoped to use this trip to finally figure out how they were really connected. Alas, they were both nigh impossible to grasp. “Baffling…” Owl muttered to himself, and he stabbed his fork through another piece of cake.

Just then, a new voice rang through the air, accompanied by a faint clinking sound. “How delightful! I do so adore when things are lively.”

The source was a single woman passing by their table. A wide-brimmed hat decorated with massive ornamental feathers rested on her head, and the dress she wore accentuated her figure and opened wide at her chest, where a massive gemstone swayed between her cleavage. Frankly, she looked so exceedingly provocative that it almost burned to look at her.

Word temporarily failed Owl, overwhelmed as he was by the sudden gaudy display in front of him. Clemens had no such compunctions. “Pardon me, were we being too loud? If we have put a damper on your mood at all, then you have my sincerest apologies, miss.” As he spoke, he stood from his chair and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

“My….” The woman was startled for a moment, not expecting the priest to behave like a noble, but soon her shoulders were trembling in quiet laughter. “Mrs., Father, not miss. Please, call me Marie.” She rocked slightly in a charming manner, eyes roving over every last inch of the priest. She seemed quite enchanted by what she saw, as she continued, “You haven’t put a damper on my mood at all, I assure you. I was just a little envious – the people with me are all such bores, you see. A lady can’t even have a little chat about romance. Things have been a little dull.”

She cast a fleeting glance at the young man standing silently behind her at that. He looked to be an attendant at first glance, but his clothes looked to be too high-quality for that – perhaps a lover, then. He had an oddly timid air about him, in stark contrast to the splendid woman he was with.

“Is that so?” Clemens said. “If that’s the case, would you care to join us? Of course, the young man with you is welcome as well.”

Marie shook her head regretfully. ‘Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement. There’s someone waiting for me in the lounge.”

“I see. I apologize for keeping you, then.”

“Oh, no, it’s no trouble at all. If you have time later, I’d love to chat further with you. It would be… such a shame, to let a stunning father like yourself slip away.” Marie pressed Clemens’ arm close to her chest, whispered something in in ear, then turned in the direction of the lounge car. “Good day to you, then. Now escort me properly, Low! Goodness, but you’re slow, aren’t you? Do you really mean for me to open the door myself?!”

“M-My apologies,” the man mumbled.

Marie strode on, her heels clacking against the floor as she continued to berate her attendant. However, before she reached the lounge, she noticed a passenger seated in the very back of the dining car. “My, Michelle, so this is where you were! And where is he, then?”

The person Marie had called out to was a woman, her long brown hair tied into a loose braid. Michelle carefully closed the book she was reading before turning her eyes up to meet Marie’s. “The master was tired, so he retired to his room to doze for a time,” she answered, perfectly civil.

“Is that so, hmm….” Marie gave a disinterested nod. Her eyes raked over Michelle’s nape for a moment before a sneer suddenly spread across her face. With a mocking chuckle, she pointed and cooed, “Michelle, dear, your buttons are off.”

Michelle jumped and hastily pressed her hand against her neck, her face paling.

Marie walked on again, though not without scoffing over her shoulder, “These people really are hopeless. They can’t even wear the clothes they’re given properly!” Michelle sat stock-still, not even moving to reopen her book again after the other woman had vanished into the lounge.

Elnora watched the exchange, dumbfounded. It only took her a second to make her disgust apparent and for the insults to start flowing. “What was that? Where’d that lady get her high horse from?! Geez, d’you think she’s loaded? Ugh, and that dress! Her taste is awful! And that guy with her – he didn’t really look like a butler, so that must’ve been her lover!”

“It would be rude to pry too deeply,” chided Clemens. “Besides, if we’re speaking of high horses, surely yours could give hers a good show?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I am a pure and virtuous sister. Don’t lump me in with that woman.”

“Was there ever a time you were pure or virtuous?”

“And what about you, Clemens?! She said something to you just now, right? She was definitely ogling you!”

“….”

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

Clemens wavered ever so slightly at her persistence. “… She said ‘A-2.’”

“A-2? What’s that supposed to mean?”

It was Owl who answered this time, not Clemens. “That’s her room number, probably. The A rooms are in the deluxe car – she’s got a suite, then. She wants Clemens to come calling later, I guess.”

“What a sinful priest!” Elnora let out a theatrical yelp, clasping her hands together as if in prayer. “Please, Lord, forgive this father for his sins!”

“I was only told the room number, nothing more,” objected Clemens. “I will not, nor do I plan to, do anything about it.”

“Just being invited is bad enough,” stressed Elnora. “Does she have any morals at all, asking a holy man to visit her room like that? Ugh, she’s the worst.” The nun shivered dramatically.

Ellie’s head was tilted to the side as she watched the pair interact. With a puzzled frown, she asked, “… Is inviting Father… bad?”

“Huh?”

“He reads me books in my room sometimes. Is that bad, too?”

The poor girl hung her head. She didn’t understand the meaning behind inviting someone to her room, so now she thought she’d been doing something truly terrible. Elnora and Clemens both hurried to placate her, shaking their heads in unison.

“No, me reading to you is completely different. It’s a good thing.”

“Y-Yeah! You’re totally fine, Ellie! Don’t worry about it!”

Ellie tilted her head once more at them. “Then what would be bad?”

The pure-hearted innocence in her words silenced the pair. They glanced at each other, unsure of how to even begin. Elnora kicked Clemens’ knee under the table, silently telling him in no uncertain terms that the ball was in his court on this one.

He was, however, beaten to the punch. “Chips.”

“Huh?”

Owl, who had been quietly continuing to eat cake the whole time, had chimed in. “Sometimes you just want to lie in bed and eat chips, right?”

“Chips…?”

“Yeah. Remember the other day, Nick did that and Byron yelled at him ‘cause he was eating in bed?”

Ellie nodded. “I remember. Nick got yelled at. He was naughty.”

“Stuff like that is bad. Sometimes adults want to do bad things.”

“Owl, too?”

“Sure. Sometimes I think it’d be nice to read the paper in bed with some biscuits, maybe some warm milk. But I don’t do that, because it’s bad.”

Owl’s detached explanation appeased Ellie easily. “I see…” she murmured. “I… want to eat sandwiches in bed.”

“Me, too. Want to make a challenge of it?”

“Is it okay? Byron won’t get mad?”

“It’ll be fine as long as we don’t get caught.”

“Owl’s naughty,” Ellie giggled.

Clemens and Elnora let out identical relieved sighs – the girl’s questions seemed to have completely cleared up. Owl turned to them and told them deliberately, “I kind of feel like having an Eccles cake now,” flipping through the menu as he did.

Clemens could only nod. “… Order whatever you like.”

“Good.” Owl passed the menu over to Ellie, who happily took it from him.

The door to the dining car opened. Clemens turned to the new arrival, thinking them to be a crew member. “We’d like to order…” he started, only to pause. “Oh, my mistake. Apologies.”

The person passing by wasn’t a member of the crew, but a passenger, a young man in a well-tailored suit who gave Clemens a gentlemanly smile as he walked by. “No need to apologize,” he said before continuing on through the dining car, heading for the lounge.

As soon as the man had vanished from view, Elnora whispered, “… Hey, didn’t that guy look familiar?”

 “Perhaps you’ve seen him around before?” suggested Clemens.

Elnora’s eyes squinted shut as she tried to place his face.

“Mastema….” Owl swallowed the last bite of his mirliton.

“Mastema? You know him?”

“I met him on a previous case,” explained Owl. “He’s some high-ranking government official. He’s in the papers a lot, that’s probably where you recognize him from.”

Elnora’s eyes flicked in the direction of the lounge car. “An official, huh…” she hummed. She thought he looked like he was hiding something, but she didn’t say that out loud.

“He’s apparently a philanthropist who’s made substantial donations to churches and welfare institutions,” continued Owl.

“A philanthropist? Really? Eh, but it’s not like he ever got me so much as a hat.” Interest lost, Elnora turned her attention back to her sweets. Before she fully immersed herself in the feast, though, she glanced over to Clemens, noting the awfully stormy frown on his face. “What’s with you?” she asked.

“Hm?” Clemens started at the sudden address.

“You’re weirdly pale.”

“… Am I?”

“Yeah, and your eyebrows are all furrowed.” Elnora jabbed a finger at said eyebrows, and Clemens raised a hand to rub at them. “Quit making such a scary face, it ruins your good looks.”

Clemens considered, then said, “Perhaps it’s déjà vu. I feel like I know him, but I must be imagining it.”

“Hmm~? Now those are some rare words coming out of your mouth.”

Elnora didn’t press any further, but Owl did. Quietly he asked, “A Demon?”

Clemens tilted his head to the side. “No, not a Demon…. You needn’t worry, everything is fine.” Still frowning, Clemens downed the rest of his coffee in one go. He seemed to be remembering something unpleasant.

And right then –

 BANG!! The door to the car slammed open.

 As one, Owl’s group turned their attention to the opposite side of the car, where the door to the first-class carriage had suddenly flown wide. The person on the other side was a steward. For workers like him, it was virtually an ironclad rule that they had to always be smiling as they elegantly entertained their guests… but the one stumbling into the car now couldn’t be called elegant by any stretch of the imagination. He surveyed the car in a panic, and as soon as he saw Michelle sitting in the back he rushed forward, screaming, “T-Terrible news!”

“Wh-What’s going on?”

The steward’s frenzy was flustering Michelle, too. Her shock would only continue to grow as the other passengers would get involved.

“M-Mister Johnny…!”

“What about the master?”

“Mister Johnny has passed away in his room!”

“… What?”

“He’s dead!”

“He’s what?!”

She unconsciously shot to her feet. The book on her lap thumped to the floor.

“The master is…?”

“Yes!”

“Wh-What kind of sick joke is this?! If you’re lying to me…!”

“I’m not lying! Please come with me right away!”

“No… this can’t be…!”

Michelle broke into a run as the steward pulled her away, her book forgotten in her panic.

As the two passed by the group’s table, Owl stood as well. However, before he could follow them, Clemens grabbed his arm and halted him in his tracks. “Wait. Where do you think you’re going?” the priest asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Owl answered. “I’m going to go take a look. If someone’s turned up dead, they’ll need a detective. Nick isn’t here today – the quicker we move, the better.”

“This isn’t necessarily a case for you. If someone’s turned up dead, the first people we need are either a doctor or the police, and then maybe a funeral director.”

Owl considered. “That’s true. Then in that case, I’ll be the doctor. And we’ll also need a priest to offer prayers for the deceased.” Owl turned the tables and tugged on Clemens’ arm instead, pulling him to his feet and pressing a hand to his back to shove him along. “Come on, Father. Time to get to work.”

“What? Hey!”

“Elnora, you stay here and look after Ellie.” The detective turned the cuffs of his coat and ran off without another word.

“Things are really heating up,” Elnora commented, carefree as could be.

Ellie waved at his retreating back. “Come back safe….”

original written by Nagaya Kawaji here

[sillysurrealwriter]

Künstlich auf Ewig

“Goddamn it! Not again!”

I stared at my recent posted artwork, on the platform known as UArt. I’ve been a user of this app for almost a year and posted artwork after artwork....

Yet no matter how much I drew or what I drew for that matter, my likes were only around 5-10. 15 on a good day.

It was so frustrating....

Oh right. Sorry, I haven’t told you who I am yet. My name is Emily and I am a 18 year old artist. I loved drawing for my whole life. To just create my own worlds, characters and whatnot....It’s magical. Art was my favourite subject in school even, the only one I excelled at while the rest was....Let’s not talk about that. I did end up graduating after all (somehow).

I was working as a cashier, at a local supermarket and tried in my freetime my hardest, to make my art business run well. I posted regularly, posted stories and connected with other artists. My online friends liked the water color painting style that my drawings often had. My own artstyle.

Yet....in spite of all the support, I never had anyone commission me... Well except a few people, who ended up scamming me out of 200 dollars and now I am in credit card debt. Urgh.... Mom and dad didnt like that and haven’t talked to me since. Was about 2 months ago.

Right now, I was getting out of bed and looking on my phone. Today, I had a day off so I wanted to spend some time to work on my artwork.

But sadly, my motivation sunk faster than the Titanic.

Because my artwork, which depicted my OC a serial killer who loves strawberry and uses the blood to make strawberry, barely got any likes. Which wasn’t unusual. But I wasn’t mad about that.

No...I was mad at another artwork. Well....No. Calling it artwork would be an insult.

Because I was looking at soulless trash of a beautiful anime girl. An AI-generated image. Guess how many likes that one got?

If you guessed 90k, then you are correct.

There were so many comments, praising this soulless piece of trash. Simping for this thing...just because of the fat milkers and charming smile.

Barely a single comment, called the artist out for using AI. I mean, come on! Her thumbs were as long as the other fingers and as thin too. Not to mention that the dress she was wearing was fused with the background.

Either the “artist” who posted this shit, deleted all the comments. Or some people are too horny, to see what’s in front of them in the mirror...well, on the screen. But you get me, right?

It’s not fair!

I work day and night to generate artwork after artwork, barely getting any likes. And what does this user do?!

Just type in some stupid commands, to generate this shit!

I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to scream.

God...I needed some coffee......

Forcing myself to get out of bed, I slumped towards the kitchen and immediately poured tons of coffee into the machine, as I sat down and ate some chocolate cake I made from last night. My figure was rather plumb and it was annoying that people make fun of my weight.

But I think I am physically well off. Otherwise, I would have already had an cardiac arrest, lifting those water pack bottles in the back. Seriously.

I am strong enough, to lift two boxes on my shoulder. I am fine, damn it.

Urgh...

Sipping out of my coffee, I noticed yet another rent notice on the ground. The landlord was starting to get impatient.

Damn it............

I needed money quickly.

I...needed-

Suddenly, I saw a notification on my phone. Someone sent me a DM. With a smile, I opened it and began to read it.

“Hey MagicMaroon, I love your art. Its soo cool and it inspired me, to make my own AI Art using your style. Hope you like it!” :D

I stopped smiling, when I saw the post he forwarded too.

It...was the same stupid ai artist......And...

He made an ai-generated image with my style!

And...it got 10 k likes already!

I gritted my teeth angrily and typed.

“Take it down.”

“Why?”, he asked. “I like it.”

“You stole my art!”

“Well, your fault for posting it to begin with.”, he answered, with a laughing emoji. “Nothing on the internet is private. I can do what I want and I gave credit too. Check the desc.”

My eye twitched, as I read the description.

They wrote “Credit to the artist”

I typed again.

“You fucking bastard! Type my name!”

“Hm? But why? It’s not like you have tons of followers anyway. Plus, I made the art. Not you. I am a way better artist than you. Haha xD”

I groaned angrily.

He...he had the nerve to steal my art....something I worked on for years.....And mocked me?!

That’s it!

I quickly took screenshots of the convo, while that bastard kept writing me.

“I made 90 k with all my art!

“I made the best art ever!”

“AI is the future. No one cares about weak humans like you.”

“Hello, why are you not responding?”

I smirked and then swiped to the story board and then made a long post, detailing my screenshots.

And then....I posted it.

It took a bit, but eventually I got likes.

First one...

Then two...

Then three...

I got more and more likes and shares and I waited patiently, for the little shit to write back in shock.

I smiled and then swiped to the DM profile and laughed.

His account was no longer there. It got deleted.

“Take that, art thief!”, I shouted and laughed loudly. God...this made my day......

And it barely started!

Giggling to myself, I suddenly noticed an email popping up. Curiously, I opened it and.....

.......it was from the AI artist, MoonDream AI. He wrote:

“Listen bitch. You made a big mistake. You cost me a lot. You will pay.”

Rolling my eyes, I blocked the bastard and got up happily.

Time to draw another painting.

The next hours were rather uneventful. I painted on my phone, as my account got more and more followers and my art got more and more likes. Many artist reached out to me, in order to share their experiences and frustration with AI art. It was liberating.

And in the upcoming days, I even got a few comissions and I finished em all in a couple of days, making about 400 dollars, enough to pay my stupid rent.

At last, everything was going my way. Which is why I was sitting in my home in the evening, watching Netflix. It had been a week since that AI artist disappeared from the end of the earth and I was feeling quite relaxed, to say the least.

Things were going great.....

At least, I thought they did. Because no matter how hard I tried to draw, I still had that mail in my head.

It sounded threatening...but, what were they gonna do? I blocked them and their account is no more.

I should just relax for the time being. Some guys on the net can talk big, but have next to not action. Which is why, I simply needed to relax for now.

Stuffing my mouth with a bit of popcorn, I hummed relaxed and stared at the TV. Right now, the main character was about to kiss his lover and have hot sex with him. Slowly, I watched in awe as he took off his shirt, for their tongues to clash and their little buddies to perk out, when-

.....something strange happened.

The hand....the hand of the MC.......

Why did it suddenly have a 6th finger? An animation error?

Well.....it happens. It-

Wait...why did the hand now go into the penis, as if it was liquid? And..why....

The men....they kiss but...........their tongues...fuse with each other and their hair..fuses with the noses...

Suddenly, they barely resemble people anymore! Wh...What’s going on?!

The background..it was a bed and now....and now......its...a car? And...then......a boat?

The animation changes constantly! Like...like a machine and...and....and....and....and.....

................Wait...........

I blinked briefly.

And all of a sudden, I was sitting in the darkness. My breathing hitched, as disgusting images shot through my mind.

That grotesque animation....those...disgusting gory visuals....the faces I was looking at, shifting into different people every second.....

I coughed something out. I...I thought it was blood, but....

It...was some black liquid.

I vomited the substance out heavily and fell on the floor, the room filling with some strange scent that reminded me of some rotten meat and sweet candy.

It...was disgusting...So disgusting...

And those images...they kept on coming...and..and...my limbs...

They...twisted...turned....and....and.....lost the right proportions...My leg was twice as big as my body, my head was as small as my pinkie and my limbs were as thin as my hair, as my breasts expanded and became as big as my leg and arm respectively.

I tried to scream, but the substance began to make me choke. I screamed in pain and...and...and.....

................................

................................

...............................

The next day, another artwork was posted on URArt. The artist was Moondr_eam AI....

....and I was the artwork.

The End

[torn2]

Beneath the skin, Cutting up the Dead, Morality

First don’t bother calling the police.

Second- this isn’t just clickbait.

Third: It’ll be part one

Have you ever stuck a pin in someone, a needle, a knife, not knife crime, I’m not talking criminal scary stuff, I’m talking about the other scary stuff. Sickness.

There are three main sides of the human body; it is amazing, it is gross and it is terrifying.

The first time I stood with a scalpel in my hand over a human being, I didn’t know whether to puke, faint or scream. But one thing I could not do was break the skin. It would take a leap of brain neurons, a deep breath and do it. And slowly we went around our table to each take the emotional, moral plunge. Slowly laying down a hand and peeling back the Cadaver. It was an art that I had never conceived. The outlining, the moving, the gentleness, the detail.

People do it for a job, making Cadavers into finished, clear specimens from which to learn anatomy.

I never learnt anatomy very well, but I realised how awesome, strong and fit for purpose the human body is. It is amazing and awe inspiring when everything has its own place. The immense jigsaw, that once disturbed is ridiculously hard to put back together again. I became good at dissecting and presenting.

This was decades ago. When I drew it all out, piece by piece. By that Halloween of 2001 mostly alone in a room full of 90 ish dead people on metal tables. In a basement with high up windows, bright internal fluorescent lights and heard kids walking past with the early sunset giggling. I wasn’t scared. These Cadavers wouldn’t hurt me. They were (very) dead, but also very human. Kind, thoughtful people who gave their bodies to medical research. People with families, friends, lives, loves. People who were still loved. The dead didn’t scare me. The dead don’t really scare me. I have had many friends die, and the only thing that scares me with its ferocity is my grief.

I can look in the eyes of someone who has died and see an empty pool, a nothingness. It is an intensely rewarding thing to be able to wash the newly dead, leave the body pristine for the family.

This Halloween I helped give ideas for a party for little kids. It’s always been not a time of scary pumpkins (because I’m better at cutting up fine things than large objects… slip, cut, drip, ‘different’ scary pumpkin). But since then it’s been a time of remembering those I love, who have died. And that’s been in the double digits for too long.

Then it reminds me again why we are so interesting. So amazingly made with all our organs like Jenga.

And no, I’m not a surgeon, I stayed with cutting up dead bodies. It is one of the most remarkable pieces of art I’ve ever participated in.

[paigelts05]

[BLOOD] FNAF - The trade-off threat

https://www.deviantart.com/paigelts05/art/BLOOD-FNAF-The-trade-off-threat-868843152

Published: Jan 31, 2021

Reneagde File Server Location: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843413

I drew the thumbnail sketch for this at 1 am and only got round to starting it the next month. Given that I gave the Forest siblings an entire rework, including a surname change, I thought it would be suitable for me to illustrate one very important event: the threat. Ryley found something that he wasn't supposed too, and Daniel D wanted to ensure that the word wouldn't get out, so preyed on Ryley's want to keep his sister safe. So he made a deal that was an ultimatum and a threat. Only one of the siblings would survive, and the burden of choosing which was placed on the shoulders of the older of the two; Ryley. The tracker whose findings landed him in this situation. °•.🌹 Story 🌹.•° =°•.🌹.•° He had found it. He found the body dump. It was well out of the way, and far outside of town. No wonder nobody thought to look here. What sane person would ever suggest searching for the victims of a murder that happened in the city in a place like this. Now, all he needed to do was report back the location and wait to see if the bodies vanished as they appeared in the animatronics. As he reached for his phone, someone spoke to him. "Look what we have here." Ryley froze. He didn't expect to hear someone behind him. Especially someone he recognised. This place was supposed to be forgotten about, but now it was clear to him that he had made one little oversight; it was forgotten about by everyone but those three: The man who ran Fazbear Entertainment and Afton robotics, his right hand woman and wife, and finally, the last person who was permitted to know of this place was Ryley's own boss. He stayed silent. Even though he wanted to speak, wanted to scream, wanted to draw others to this place, he couldn't open his mouth. He was frozen to the spot. Even though it was the middle of summer, he felt as though he were now standing in several feet of snow. "You may have found it, but I found you too. Now, I offer you a choice." As his boss spoke, Ryley felt something sharp and cold on the back of his neck, and something warm trickle down soon after. "But first you must follow me. I'd rather talk about this somewhere more private." With a pit of corpses in front of him and his boss holding a knife to the back of his neck, Ryley had no choice but to do as his boss said. He could bearly manage a nod, but his boss knew that this was a nod in agreement. The two then walked to Ryley's boss's car. Ryley was instructed to curl up in the boot. With a knife to the back of his neck and not much of a choice in the matter, Ryley complied. The ride to wherever his boss was taking him was silent and felt like an eternity. Once they arived at Freddy's, Ryley was dragged out the boot under the cover of darkness, and ushered into the restaurant and into his bosses office. There was a gun on the desk. It looked new. "I have an ultimatum," Ryley's boss said, breaking the silence, "you can live to tell everyone what you found, but I'll send my right hand to kill your sister." By right hand, Ryley knew that his boss meant he'd be sending Vincent Taylor. "Or, you may die. If you're not alive by six AM to tell the tale, then your sister will live." Ryley heard what his boss said, but it felt like a dream. Everything was hazy, and felt off, but after hearing those words, everything snapped back into focus. "How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain..." Ryley managed to say, less say but more whisper. Without a word, his boss brought the knife from the back of his neck so that the knife was now at Ryley's throat. Ryley raised a hand in shock to try and block the knife, but all it accomplished was a slice in his hand. "I'm a man of my word. I may not be honest or trustworthy, but when I make a deal, I carry out my end every time," his boss snapped, "I'd have killed you right now if it wasn't for my proposition. That'd be too easy for you." The silver haired man waited a few moments for Ryley to calm down before continuing, knowing exactly how crafty his white haired employee could be. The man had to make sure that there were no loopholes, and that there was only one real choice. "You can plan and scheme all you want. You can't weasel your way out of this one, little tracker. Now pick up the gun. You may find it useful." =°•.🌹.•°

[ordonianhero]

Dawn of a New Day

Genre: Hurt/Sick/Comfort/Healing

Warnings: Major character injury, Graphic mention of blood, suggestive on dying

Note: I drew inspiration from @socialc1imb art work part two go check them out. they make beautiful works of art.

As well took bits of Sunset part 6 of @linkeduniverse

Be mindful of the warnings above. Also this a completely one shot, I edited this the best i could with my learning disability. I am sorry if that makes it hard to read. other wise I do hope you enjoy it.

Loud screams could be heard as Hyrule and Four approached the inn room. The Rancher had a belt in his mouth as a woman worked on helping stitch him up. Then working to clean up the blood that stained his side. Followed by bandaging him. Tears Streaming down Twilight’s cheek. There tough Rancher, looked weak and sickly. Feverish sweat dripped down his face. His eyes held tightly shut. Time helping bandaging the Pup up, Twilight released the bite out of his mouth, shuttering with every movement. The pain is that he has never experience. Even compared to the time he first transformed. The Old man helped him settle down as comfortably as he could. Knowing that comfort wasn’t going to come easy. The woman who had helped them, upon checking the injury, had come to the conclusion that the injury was beyond her ability. He was going to need a miracle to heal from what ails him. May it seem that he either poisoned by the weapon which had sliced him or cursed.

“I shall send for some more bandages. I’m sorry I can’t do more.” She spoke apologetically to Time, as she made her way out of the room with the items she used to clean up the injury, best as she could. Time Stood, “Thank you, I am grateful for all your help.” He responded. The two lads rushed up stair where they ran into Time who was surprised to see them. Their faces couldn’t even remotely hide the worry they held for their brother. Hyrul rushed to Time’s side as he looked down at the Rancher. Who lay still. His face scrunched up in pain. He could see the dampness of where tears have been streaming, in the light of the sunset falling upon the room. Hyrule couldn’t help but feel useless in helping take away the feeling Rancher must be feeling.

Unless.

“I think I can help.” He finally spoke. Time’s face was filled with sadness as he looked over at the Traveler. “This is no ordinary wound.” He spoke to hyrule. “You can call it poisoned or cursed, either way, it’s been a fight for him.”

There came a painful chuckle coming from the bed, which the Rancher lay in. “Fight….” His voice was cracked and raspy. “Did… everyone…. Did we win…?” A soft smile, is on his face. As he started to put on a brave face for the two youngest member’s in the room. Though he wasn’t fooling anyone. He failed at hiding his true emotions.

“You don’t need to worry about us! You hear me?!” Cried out the smallest member of their team. Smithy. The room fell quiet.

The rancher stared blankly up at the wooden ceiling. “…worry…” he spoke softly. He tiled his head slightly, closing his eyes, as tears threatened to leak once more. “There is much to worry about….when there is danger in our kingdom…” he struggled to speak. Taking in a sharp breath and winced. “….when it threatens our friends…” another pause and sharp intake of air. “That’s how my path started at the dawn of my journey.” His hand slowly inching upwards, “and it’s always been for them. For every one of them….” He wheezed. Fingers reaching out to touch an invisible light. “It’s been that way for every single step…”

His hand then closing into a clinched fist, as he turned his head back. Eyes tightly shutting. The pain shooting through him. “Rush, I do feel a sadness….Sometimes….” He paused to catch his breath. “I wish I didn’t know what that meant.”

Time closed his eye, feeling a great pain and heart break for his own blood, his son. Wishing they didn’t have to had face any of the things he had experience prior to this event. He felt great amount of guilt for all the lads having to face such events as well. Four looked in a painful shock at the words coming out of the Rancher’s mouth. Had their Ranch-hand given up? Had he conceded that he was dying and there was nothing they could do?

“Stop talking like that! This isn’t over!” Cried out the Traveler, feeling tears burning to fall from his eyes. He closed his own eyes and touch his chest gently, and reached a hand out and softly spoke, “This is a life spell I know. I am going to try and heal you, okay?” The rancher made no comment or movement. Just laid there, with his eyes closed. Trying to focus what energy he had left in him. Hyrule motioned his hand’s in which a faint blueish glow emanated from his fingers. The room filling with a surge of magical elements.

He reached out, slowly overnight his hands over the Rancher. Eye tightly shut. Focusing all his energy and magic into healing their Ranch-hand. After a few moment’s he opened his eyes. Watching as the healing magic seeped through the bandages. Twilight still laying there still. Eye’s shut. Slowly, Hyrule hand’s dropped beside him. Nothing happened. Then balled them into a fist, hanging his head down slightly. Four sadly looked at his friend. Time slowly moved his hand towards the Traveler’s shoulders as a way to comfort him. Hyrule whipped around.

“NO!” He yelled. Startling the elder. “I’m going to keep going trying! For as long as it takes!”

He turned his attention, waving his hands about, producing an even stronger amount of magic from within him. “I don’t know the meaning of giving up, and you can’t either!” He stated fiercely. He knowing knew, that using this much magic would surely drain him.

——————-

Time had kindly asked that nobody else disturb them for the rest of the evening. That their Ranch-hand was just in need of some rest and quiet. Though many of the other’s had been wanting to see him. He felt it best to limit the amount of emotions and stresses to be in a space of healing. He was thankful he had cause throughout the inn he could hear hear each of the lads bickering. He completely understood all their emotions were the main cause of the fighting and yelling was going on. Emotions make people say and do irrational things. Even he had felt that way. However what good was that to Twilight right now? Thankfully Their Captain had a good head on his shoulder and managed to get the lot to cool off. He listened in to some of the conversations going on down stairs. He was also relieved when the champion had returned back to the inn. As to much dismay, The Captain did manage to get the young scared lad to just let Twilight rest and when things seem better, he would go with him to see him. For now Just Time was to be in the room.

As the night finally grew later, the lads had all been sectioned to some rooms to catch up on rest, have some food in their system and sleep. The Inn lay silent. The only sounds he could hear was the soft chirp of some crickets and croaks of frogs in the distance. A cool breeze blew through an open window. The scent of the near by forest est wafting through the room. Time stared at the window as moon light lit the room. It was peaceful. The was a whimper, followed by a groan. “O-old man.” Time looked over at his pup. Their cheeks damp once again.

“Rancher?” He softly responded.

“It….” Twilight’s hand trembled on his chest, while the other begin to grip at the bedding. Twilight looked over. Eyes welding up with tears. “It…hurts.” Time’s heart shattered seeing his pup this way. He looked like a small child before him.

“Link…” his voice small and wavering. “I-it hurts.” His voice broke. Time placed his hand over the pups and holding it. “I know rancher. I know.” He softly replied in a comforting tone. Twilight was edging closely to hysterically sobbing. With his voice breaking and near crying out in pain. There was absolutely nothing Time could do to sooth the pain that was ravaging the pup’s body. Time sat closely. With his other hand, ran it gently through the pup’s hair. Time softly hummed a song of healing, down to the all too familiar tune of epona’s song. Which his wife often hummed. gently stroking the youth’s face and wiping away any tears that ran down their cheek. He kept this up till he heard the soft breathing coming from the pup’s lips. “Rest And keep fighting.” Time whispered in their ear.

———

For several days twilight slept. Some days were better then others. Some days he was would be bent over the bed, violently puking. Other days, he just slept. Time would often wake him just to get water or broth into him. Anything. Bandages changed, wound being cleaned. The usual. Sometimes some of the lads would come in and tell wild and fun stories. Even if the Rancher was asleep. He could still hear them. Feel them, sense them around. Captain would even take a turn in looking after him, so to let the Old man sleep a bit.

It was one of those day’s where everyone was down in the eating area of the inn, having breakfast. That finally Twilight seem to have enough Strength to get up and go down stairs. Though Time felt unsure if it was a good thing. The Rancher seemed determined not to feel stuck in bed. He was feeling well enough to join the others. For a short time at least. Time Helped him get a shirt over his head. He then helped him get out of bed. The slowly making their way down stairs. To surprise the others. “If you ever need to just take break and go back up. Just let me know. You may be feeling well now, but we aren’t all the way there. However I am sure they will all be thrilled to see you up.” Smiled the old man. Twilight wearily smiled back.

They entered the eating area, the seven other were busy eating breakfast. Wind boasting that he could eat twelve pancakes. With legend snorting and stated how much would he like to bet he couldn’t. Twilight Attempted to move forward, but his leg giving way slightly. Time responding with, “Take it easy cowboy.” Taking the rancher’s arm and steadying him. Seven heads turned their direction.

“Oh, good! You’re alive!” Sighed sky.

“Rancher!” Hollered the Sailor excitedly.

“Well look who’s awake!” Smirked the Captain.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Joked the Veteran.

“Hey rancher!” Smiled the Traveler.

“There he is!” Smithy stated with a grin.

“Hylia- it is so good to see you awake.” Beamed the Champion.

They all looked ready to to jump up and hug the life out of him. Time raised a hand to stop them. “Take it easy. He’s not all that ready to be jostled about. In due time.” He helped Twilight into a chair. Twilight beamed tiredly at all of them. Time took a seat beside him. They all happily cheered to his return. It took Him some time to finally find his voice as he happily smiled, with tears in his eyes.

In a raspy voice, the only thing he could respond was,” I bet you I could eat 20 pancakes over your twelve sailor.” The table erupted with laughter. Time chuckled with a glint in his eyes. The gently ruffling the pup’s hair. “But maybe not now.” The old man responded.

-fin.

[writemekpop]

Bad Romance (Part 1) | Lee Taeyong

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Taeyong wants to fuck you, but you're not ready...

Genre: Angst, Smut, College AU 

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: Sexual Content, Toxic relationship 

Part 1 ⭐️| Part 2

Taeyong’s breaths were deafening in your ear. Couldn’t he try to control himself? For discretion, at least. You imagined every ear in your university dorm pricking up. Snickering. “I wonder what they’re up to.” 

Taeyong kissed you again, his hot lips colliding with yours.

His hand, ever so slightly rough, pushed up your shirt, sending goosebumps up your ribs. A moan sounded, deep in your throat, and Taeyong groaned in satisfaction. 

You felt instantly guilty. You’d told yourself your ancestors wouldn’t mind if you did this for him. But you’d promised not to enjoy it. 

Taeyong knotted one hand in your hair. You felt the other one slide up to your back to unclasp your bra. His hand dwarfed your back, sending sparks rippling up your shoulder blades. 

“Are you okay with this?” he murmured, voice husky. You nodded. It was a lie.

The truth was, you’d never had sex before. You’d barely even kissed a boy. 

When all your college friends were in the basement snogging boys, you would hover by the doorway, holding their drinks. When they began to tease you, you just pretended you couldn’t hear them. 

Even when everyone started saying you ‘batted for the other team’, it just felt like a relief. Maybe they’d finally leave you alone. 

You were a feminist. You fully believed that women weren’t shiny, unwrapped presents that had to be protected for marriage. But you were also a fake. 

Because the idea of sleeping with a stranger still made you feel sick inside. 

Well, Taeyong wasn’t a stranger; he was your boyfriend. So, you would just have to grit your teeth and get on with it. 

Taeyong’s hand slid down between you. You squeezed your eyes shut. It would be over in a minute; that’s what your friends were always joking about, right? 

Then, you heard the unmistakeable clink of his belt buckle. Suddenly, that was the most terrifying sound you’d ever heard.  

“W-wait,” you croaked. 

You clung onto Taeyong’s firm wrist. 

He was breathing hard, his pulse pounding under his papery-thin skin. You were sat on his lap – so you could feel how ready he was, and it frightened you. 

He would hate you for what you were about to say, you knew that. 

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” 

You rolled away from him, pulling your knees up and hugging them. Burying your wet eyes in your knees, you waited for Taeyong to leave. 

But you didn’t feel him get off the bed. 

Instead, there was absolute silence. A shiver ran down your spine. 

Then, his muscled arms were wrapping around you. Taeyong eased you till you were lying on the bed – fear closed in your throat – but he wasn’t trying to have sex with you. Instead, he helped you pull your T-shirt back on, and guided you so your head was resting on his chest.

You felt his thundering heartbeat slow to a steady, comforting pulse.

Taeyong pressed a kiss on your temple. For a second, your stomach curled; it was so fatherly. You mentally scolded yourself. Taeyong wasn’t like other guys. He was caring, and sensitive, and you should be grateful.  

“If you wanna go slow, let’s go slow. You’ll always be my girl,” Taeyong whispered.

So, you pushed down the niggling feeling that ‘always’ had an expiry date. It was time you learnt to trust someone, and Taeyong was the perfect person to let in.

---

Over the next few months, you tried your best to forget about that night. And it was easy enough – Taeyong was electrifying. 

You’d never met a man who could tell a Basquiat from a Banksy and didn’t even show off about it. 

Each night, after lectures, you’d sneak off to some gallery late opening, and take photos of each other for Instagram. 

Or, you’d just snuggle up in his dorm room and listen to him telling you all about his Art History course, or his dreams of starting his own gallery. 

You rarely spoke. You preferred to soak in his world, like a cat curled in the sun. And let’s face it – who wanted to talk about Maths, anyway? 

Taeyong was like a shooting star: totally uncontrollable, impossible to understand, yet hopelessly fascinating. You couldn’t believe why someone like him seemed to find you interesting. Or at least, worth spending every day with.  

---

The second time Taeyong scared you was a Saturday.

You were sitting in his lap, poring over one of his Art History books. Other than toying with a curl of your hair, or pressing a kiss to your shoulder, Taeyong was totally still.  

Sighing with pleasure, you flicked through the glossy pages – for the hundredth time. No wonder Taeyong would always say: If I wasn’t rubbish at Maths, we should’ve swapped courses.

Just then, you prised open a page you hadn’t seen before. You frowned. 

It was a scan of an old Japanese painting. In it, a wealthy couple were captured in a furious argument with a young woman, carrying a baby. It was entitled ‘Outside Wife’. 

You turned to Taeyong, finger on the title. “What’s that?” 

Taeyong lifted the book from your hands, then grinned. “It’s when a noble couple are forced to get married, but the man has another wife to, you know, satisfy his needs.” Taeyong chuckled dryly. “Unfortunately, that system isn’t available anymore.” 

You began to chuckle too… then your smile melted from your face. “What do you mean, unfortunately?” Goosebumps rippled over your skin. 

“Ah… it was just a joke. You know, we’re not exactly getting any.” Taeyong’s body still felt relaxed under you, but your muscles were tensing. 

“I thought you said you wanted to go slow…” you mumbled. 

Of course. You should’ve seen this coming. 

There was only so long a person could go without their needs fulfilled. And here you were, dragging your boyfriend down while he could sleep with any normal girl whenever he wanted. 

“I’m not ready yet, Taeyong.” You picked at the frayed wool of your jumper. 

Your throat closed as you prepared for what you would say next. “If you… need to sleep with someone else, I won’t blame you,” you whispered. Stupid, babyish tears were filling your eyes already. 

“Babe – it was just a joke! No need to get your knickers in a twist.” Taeyong laughed, and kissed your neck. 

When you still didn’t make a sound a moment later, Taeyong turned you around on his lap so you were facing him. Tears streaked freely down your cheeks – you couldn’t hide them. 

“Oh, baby….” Soft as a whisper, Taeyong placed his palm on your cheek and smoothed away the tears with his thumb. “I don’t care about your… problem. You’re my girlfriend, and what’s good enough for you’s good enough for me.” 

A small part of you hurt at the way he said problem, but you pushed that part away. You allowed him a small smile. 

Laughing, Taeyong pulled you into a bear hug. You’d never gripped his shoulder so tight. You were so lucky to have him. 

----

A few weeks later, Taeyong finally convinced you to accompany him to a house party. You knew what this meant. You’d been dating for four months – this was the ‘meeting his friends’ moment. 

All the time you were getting ready, your stomach had transformed into a pit of snakes. Excitement, anxiety, fear – they all wriggled and knotted about inside you. 

You chose a midnight-blue playsuit, in a glimmering velvet. When Taeyong pointed it out to you in the shop, you knew this what you’d be wearing. 

To be honest, you hated Taeyong’s friends. You were pretty sure Taeil had tried to sneak vodka into your coke, and Mark did nothing but yap on endlessly about his girlfriend in Canada. You were almost 100% sure she didn’t exist. 

But as soon as Taeyong’s mahogany eyes met yours across in the heaving living room, all your worries melted away like snow. All he had to do was raise one deep eyebrow, or pull his plump lips into a silly face, and you’d burst out laughing. 

Except, as the hours drew by, you realised you hadn’t seen Taeyong in a while. You were perched on the stairs, shivering next to everyone who was too zoned out to take part. 

“Taeyong?” 

Tip-toeing, you climbed up the stairs, calling his name. You pushed open each of the doors in the hallway, peeking through your fingers just in case anything funny was going on. 

But they were all empty. 

Just as you turned around to go back downstairs, you heard voices coming from the attic. Gingerly, you sneaked up. They grew louder, more defined. 

Pushing open the door just a crack, you heard:

“Really? My god.” 

Your heart jumped. You knew that rich, resounding tone better than your own voice. It was Taeyong. 

You considered climbing up to join them. But then, you heard something that stopped you in your tracks. 

“And the worst thing is, Irene thinks she’s some kind of sex goddess, but actually she’s awful. She just lies there like a limp doll, expecting me to do everything.” It was Doyoung speaking. 

There was a pause as they all laughed. 

Your heart was already twisting. Something about his tone felt… wrong. Like his girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate what he was saying. 

Then, you heard Taeyong say, “Mate, at least your girlfriend’s fucking you, even if she is awful at it. I haven’t got any for months!” 

Everyone in the group exclaimed in disbelief. You forgot how to breathe. 

“Yeah – I know. Y/n thinks she’s some kind of saint for “waiting for the perfect moment”. I mean, a guy’s got needs!” Taeyong’s voice was low, but to you he could have been screaming. 

Black spots were engulfing your vision. Gulping, you staggered backwards, out of the door. You didn’t want to hear what you heard next. You really didn’t want to.  

But you couldn’t help it. Not when Taeyong said, “You know, I don’t even feel bad about fucking Joy. I mean, I had no choice. If Y/n wasn’t so frigid, I wouldn’t need to. It’s her fault really.” 

That was it. 

You sprinted away. Pushing through the line of partygoers waiting to use the bathroom, you locked yourself inside.

Then, you curled up on the toilet seat and sobbed. 

It had finally happened. 

Your gorgeous boyfriend had finally realised that he was miles out of your league. He didn’t deserve the defect. He didn’t deserve the fake feminist who was too ashamed to admit how sexist she really was. 

Then, a thought entered your mind that make you perk up. 

Maybe you could pretend you’d never overheard Taeyong. Maybe you could go back to how you were before… Or maybe you could sleep with him and make him forget about all other girls. 

After all, you’d do anything to keep him. 

Anything.  

Read Part 2 here.

---

MASTERLIST

[ragingbookdragon]

When The Music's Not Forgotten PT. 1

Green Lantern!Reader x Lantern Family Story!

Word Count: 5.3K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mature Themes, Violence

Author's Note: I legit had a breakdown trying to think about what to label this fic as. Almost put 'Batsis' but then I realized it's not Batsis nor Lantern!Sis so I was like...uh...what do I do? We'll figure it out. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Her first thought when she opened the front door to the Coast City apartment and saw her dad in a headlock by Kyle and Kyle in a headlock by Guy who was in one by John, who was in one by her dad, was: this is totally and completely normal.

The second thought: that nothing involving her father and uncles ever surprised her anymore, occurred to her as said father and said uncles stopped arguing with one another and cocked their heads up, looking at her, each of their faces exhibiting the epitome of “I got caught with my hand in the cookie jar” shock, in which she merely returned with a blank stare before closing the door behind her, marching into the kitchen with the grocery bags.

Of course, that also meant the second she did, they were stumbling in to explain what had brought them to the unfortunate moment of head-locking each other, but also to see what she’d bought and what she was going to cook for dinner. She paid them no mind, ducking under arms and between bodies as she maneuvered around them kitchen, putting things away.

Someone curled an arm around her neck, pressing their lips to her temple. “Hey Raptor.”

She smiled. “Hey dad.” Tossing a beer behind her, she added, “Uncle Guy. Uncle John. Kyle.”

Guy caught his beer, popping the tab, and Kyle looked at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “How come everyone else is ‘uncle’ and I’m not?” he looked hurt. “Am I somehow different, (Y/N)?”

She paused and threw another beer behind her. “Kyle, were almost the same age. I’m not calling you my uncle because John and Guy are older than both of us.”

“Not that much,” he griped, popping his beer tab. “It still hurts my feelings.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and handed John the final beer. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I considered you to be my favorite cousin?”

Kyle smiled at her. “Yes, it would.”

She nodded then glanced at Hal. “Dad, tacos or burgers?”

“I dunno.” He said, glancing at the others. “You guys?”

“Burgers.”

“Tacos.”

“Burgers.”

She cocked a brow and looked at her father. “Seems like you’ll either make a tie or a win.”

“I have been thinking about good tacos, Raptor,” he replied, and she nodded.

“Tacos it is.” Guy and John groaned, and she shot them a glare. “Hey! Lock that shit up or I’m not cookin’.” Immediately they shut their mouths, listening to Kyle and Hal snicker. “Buncha children.” She griped, dumping the ground beef into a skillet to brown.

“So, (Y/N),” Guy drawled, leaning against the kitchen counter. And honestly, the entire kitchen was way too small for four grown men and a grown woman to be in at one time, but she’d gotten used to it, so why fix what wasn’t broke.

“So, Uncle Guy.” She repeated, shifting the meat around with the spatula.

“Why exactly did you start working at the Wayne Enterprises branch here?”

She could feel the eyes of her family on her back, and she couldn’t help but roll hers. “Maybe because Mister Wayne pays good salaries to his employees and his health insurance coverage is fantastic?” (Y/N) glanced over her shoulder. “But something tells me you’re asking for another answer.”

He grinned. “Which son of Wayne’s are you dating?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes again. “I love you, but you’re an idiot.” She turned back to the pan. “I’m not dating any of his sons. Dick’s with Koriand’r, Jason’s a douche-bag, and their brothers are way too young.”

“Doesn’t he have a daughter?”

“Cass is dating a girl she goes to college with.” She took an onion from the basket against the kitchen wall atop the counter. “Keep digging though, Uncle Guy. You’ll hit rock bottom soon enough.”

“Does that mean you’re dating the big Bat?”

She almost cried from laughter as Hal choked on his beer and spluttered. “No. I’m not dating Mister Wayne. He’s old enough to be my dad.”

John chuckled. “I don’t know, (Y/N). When you first met Bruce at, what? Ten? You told him you were going to marry him.”

Her cheeks burned and she scowled at them. “I meant Batman because he was kind-hearted, and I was totally awestruck as a little girl. Let it go.” Her eyes fell on Hal. “Dad, tell ‘em to let it go.”

He nodded. “Please let it go.” Kyle started humming ‘Here Comes the Bride’ and while the others snickered, Hal screwed his eyes shut. “Oh God, stop. I don’t want to think about my precious baby anywhere near that anal retentive kitchen scale.”

The other snickered and before she could say anything, their rings started beeping. She looked at them as their faces turned solemn, setting their beers down as their suits flashed to life.

“Trouble on Oa,” John said.

“Gotta fly?” she asked, and Hal nodded, leaning over to kiss her temple.

“Gotta fly, Raptor.” He hugged her quickly and followed John and the others to the balcony. “I love you.”

“I love you too, dad.” (Y/N) waved. “Be careful, Corpsmen.” They all waved at her and took off, leaving her in the apartment alone and she sighed, turning back to the kitchen. “Another dinner…alone.” She couldn’t help but deflate. “Wonderful.”

***

She continued cooking for almost an hour when the balcony doors opened and closed, and she smiled. “Hey guys. You’re back rather early.” When she didn’t hear a response, she immediately fell on guard and she took one of the kitchen knives from its holder, brandishing it.

Carefully, she walked into the dimly lit living room, eyes scanning the expanse for whoever was in the apartment with her. None of the floorboards were creaking, no rustling of fabric or scuffing of shoes. It was completely silent, and that made her nervous.

Stay calm. The worst thing you can do in a situation when you need to be calm is to be panicked. Slow breaths. Keep focused.

She repeated his words in her head and shifted around the hallway wall, eyes peeled for trouble.

Small steps when sweeping buildings. If an enemy rounds a corner and it comes to close combat, you’ll want to be able to hit them and taking big steps causes instability.

(Y/N) crept down the hall and came upon the bathroom just beside her father’s bedroom door. Quickly, she peeked in, seeing it empty, then cross the doorway, pausing beside her father’s door. She inhaled deeply, then turned her head around the corner, seeing it empty and dark. The only room left was hers.

She crossed to the other side of the wall and hurried down to her door, and with another sharp breath, she turned and looked in. Again, it was empty. Confusion bled through her as she returned to the living room, the hand holding the knife lowered beside her thigh.

“That’s strange.” She murmured. “I thought I—”

“Heard something?”

She gasped and spun around, bringing the knife up, but they caught it with ease, squeezing her wrist until she cried in pain and dropped it. (Y/N) heard the clattering in her ears as they grabbed her other hand and shoved her down into the couch.

She started thrashing wildly, about to scream when she heard, “I thought I told you not to turn your back on people.”

(Y/N) stilled and turned her head, catching that stupidly smart smirk. “You fucker.” She cursed at him, torn between laughing hysterically and cursing some more. “I can’t believe you turned this into a lesson.”

He shrugged. “Had to know if you were learning any better.” Smiling at her, he quipped, “Your sweeping is great. Detection skills? Not so much.”

“Let me up, Jason.” she commanded, rolling her eyes and he snorted, letting go of her arms. Immediately, she spun and cocked her elbow into his jaw, smiling as he grunted in pain and grabbed it.

“Damn,” he hissed. “You’ve got elbowing down to an art.”

She grinned. “I’ve had a good teacher.”

They stared on another down for a moment, then all at once, they were yanking at shirts and unbuckling belts, grabbing each other, and tugging closer to one another as their lips met in a searing kiss.

(Y/N) shoved at the jacket on his shoulders, moving her lips to his jaw and he groaned, taking his hands from her hips for just a moment to pull the article off. He shifted out of reach, and she glanced towards the kitchen.

“I turned the oven off,” Jason muttered, yanking his crimson shirt over his head. “Figured we’d be too busy to eat dinner.”

She giggled and shoved him off the couch, watching as he scrambled to his feet; she stood and started pulling off her own clothes, first her shirt, then her bra and Jason almost collapsed at her feet when she tugged her pants to her ankles.

“C’mon, Jay, don’t be shy.” (Y/N) cooed. “Show me what you’ve got.”

He chuckled, and unbuckled his belt, letting it fall to the floor as he back-stepped down the hallway. “Oh, you want a show, Miss Jordan?”

She smirked at him and stuck her thumbs in the sides of her thong. “I’d love a show, Mister Todd.”

“I might made you beg a little for it,” he shot back coolly, toeing off his combat boots and she hummed.

“I will if you will.” (Y/N) said, watching his hands unbutton the charcoal-colored utility pants he wore.

“My eyes are up here.” Jason quipped, though he didn’t seem to stop as he shoved his pants down, leaving him in his boxers, and he hit her doorway.

“True, but my attention is elsewhere.” She drew her eyes up his toned body, internally smirking as he seemed to shiver under her gaze, and she pushed her thong down her legs. (Y/N) stood before him and reached out, placing her hands flat on his chest. He was so hot underneath her palms and she slowly rubbed her hands up to the sides of his neck.

“(Y/N),” he murmured huskily, arms winding around her waist, and she smirked.

“Take me to bed, Jason.”

Immediately, he bent down and grabbed the back of her thighs, digging his fingers in until she lifted and wrapped her arms around his waist. “With pleasure,” he purred.

***

By the time Hal and the other lanterns got back to the apartment, it was well into the morning, and he could tell that everyone just wanted to crash in exhaustion, too tired to even think about flying to their own homes.

He opened the balcony doors and let them inside. “Lemme get some blankets from the hall closet,” he muttered, voice as ragged as his body felt.

“Who the hell played strip poker in here?”

Hal looked up at Guy who was holding up a crimson t-shirt with a baffled expression. “What?”

Guy met his gaze then nodded down the hall. “Someone’s been tangoing.”

When he craned his neck to peek down the hallway, sure enough there was a trail of clothing leading down to her room. His eyes went wide, and he suddenly forgot about his exhaustion as he leaped over the couch and sprinted down the hall, the other Lanterns hot on his heels.

Hal skidded to a stop in her doorway and immediately screeched, “(Y/N) JORDAN WHO THE HELL IS IN YOUR BED?!”

The two young adults in the bed startled up, and she held the sheet to her chest as she gaped at her father. “Dad! You—you’re here!”

He gestured wildly. “OF COURSE, I’M HERE! I FUCKING LIVE HERE! WHO THE FUCK IS IN YOUR BED?!”

“Morning, Hal,” Jason greeted, with a mock salute. “How’s your day so far?”

“MY DAY?!” he bellowed, already starting for the young man, and John was quick to grab Hal around the waist. “LET GO! I’M GOING TO MURDER THIS SON OF A BAT FOR CORRUPTING MY DAUGHTER!”

“Excuse me,” Jason said, rather affronted, then pointed at her. “It’s (Y/N) who’s corrupted me.”

(Y/N) barely had time to hide her snort as she elbowed him in the side. “Shut the hell up.” She cleared her throat and looked at the men in her doorway. “Uh…can you close the door so I can get dressed?”

“CLOSE THE DOOR?! I’M GOING TO TAKE THE DOOR OFF ITS HINGES! YOU ARE GROUNDED, (Y/N) JORDAN DO YOU HEAR ME! YOU ARE—”

Guy and John dragged Hal off and Kyle shut the door but threw a thumbs up at Jason before he left.

***Part Two***

She tried to look anywhere but her father’s face as he continued to berate her and Jason. And honestly, he’d stopped making sense about thirty minutes ago and while she couldn’t look at her uncles for fear of bursting into laughter, Jason had no problems cracking a smirk at everything Hal was yelling about.

“—AND I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU HAD A BOY IN THE HOUSE!” he paused, horror drawing across his face, then it immediately turned into anger. “THIS ISN’T THE FIRST TIME HE’S COME OVER IS IT?! HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON?!”

Her face pinched and she inquired, “Which question do you want answered first? The one you asked when you first started yelling or the last one just now?”

“I am in no mood for games, (Y/N) Jordan. You brought a boy into the house without permission.”

“I am a man.” Jason interrupted.

She elbowed him in the ribs. “I didn’t realize I needed permission to bring my boyfriend into the house.”

“BOYFRIEND?!” Hal screeched.

(Y/N) blinked. “I’m confused. Are you angry at me calling him my boyfriend? Do you want me to call him my fuckbuddy or something?”

“HEY!” both Jason and Hal in unison and her father glared at him. “SHUT UP!”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, dad…I’m twenty-one. Having a boyfriend is a completely normal thing. Having a consensual sexual relationship with someone is a normal thing.”

Hal spluttered for a moment then pointed at Jason. “NOT WITH HIM!”

“What’s wrong with me?” Jason question, rather offendedly, then he held up a hand. “I mean, besides the obvious things that are wrong with me.”

“YOU’RE YOU! THE SON OF BATMAN!”

“I mean…” Jason drawled. “That’s technically debatable most days.”

(Y/N) looked at him. “You’re not exactly helping the case, Jay.”

“I’m not trying to.” He grinned at her. “I’m seeing if I can make your dad go red.”

She tutted at him. “Jason Todd trying to corrupt a Green Lantern into a Red Lantern. Shame.”

“QUIT DOING THAT!” Hal howled as they started snickering, seeming to get lost in their own little world. Suddenly, he was marching down the hallway and coming back with a cellphone.

They watched in confusion for a moment, then Jason’s eyes widened. “Oh no.”

“What?” (Y/N) worried.

“He’s calling B.”

“What.”

Hal put the phone to his ear and glowered at the two of them until the line clicked and he immediately yelled, “DO YOU KNOW YOUR DELINQUENT SON IS DATING MY DAUGHTER?...WHAT?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ALREADY KNOW?!...EXCUSE ME?! WHAT?!”

He hung up the phone and set it on the table, then proceeded to turn around and grab a pillow from the couch, bringing it to his face. Hal bellowed into the pillow and Jason nudged her. “How long is he gonna be like this?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Probably another minute or two. He’ll start up again in about an hour though.”

Jason hummed and stood from the table. “Well, I’d love to stay and get yelled at some more but if I’m being honest, I only need one father yelling at me and not two.”

“Where are you going?” she questioned.

“Roy and I have a mission in Costa Rica tomorrow evening.” He bent down and kissed her lips. “I’ll call you when I land.”

(Y/N) smiled and before he pulled away, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him in for another searing kiss, one that erupted wolf-whistles from the other Lanterns around them—which also had Hal pulling his head up at the sound, immediately shouting again.

“Love you,” she murmured, and he winked.

“Love you more, doll.” He tossed a mock salute to Hal and the others before leaving and she sat back in her seat, readying herself for another round of bellowing.

***

Surprisingly, Hal had relaxed after a few hours. That being said, (Y/N) really had to work on him to do so but being an only child and her dad’s pride and joy played a big part—she knew the man could never stay mad at her. Of course, he’d immediately put rules into place over the whole relationship thing. No boys in the house without permission, no closing the door when a boy was over, no more Bat-sons in the Jordan apartment…he was overreacting, but it wasn’t anything new in (Y/N)’s opinion.

But he did ease up after a few months, mainly because as anti-social as Jason was most days, he was damn good at working people over when he wanted to. And in her boyfriend’s opinion, the easiest way to work her dad over was to tell him all the ways to screw with Bruce—which Hal took in like a sponge with water. As annoying as it was to see the two men so giddy over a plan, she was glad they were just getting along.

However, when Hal learned that (Y/N) was being trained by Jason, and on the rare occasions, Bruce, his meltdown the first night seemed like a walk in the park compared to the storm blowing in.

***

So…what are you wearing?

She snorted, crossing at the formula of the equation, rewriting a new one beside it. “Jason, I’m not having phone-sex with you.”

Hmm…I bet you’re wearing red panties.

“Cold.” (Y/N) retorted with a grin. “They’re blue actually. You know, like Nightwing’s suit?”

Why do you hate me?

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you mean, Jay.”

You’re evil, you know that? Like you portray innocence but in reality, you’re evil.

She snorted again when a tapping came at her bedroom window and she frowned, leaning over; Jason saw it from the camera.

Everything alright?

(Y/N)’s eyes drifted to his face then to the window and she stood. “Yeah, someone’s at the window.”

(Y/N). He warned and she leaned over, seeing Kyle floating there.

“It’s Kyle.”

What’s Kyle doing there? I thought he was on Oa.

She nodded, brows furrowing as she murmured, “I did too.” Opening the window, she greeted, “Hey, what’s up?”

Kyle seemed nervous. No, he seemed concerned. “I need you to come with me.”

“Is my dad okay?” she asked outright, and he nodded.

“Yeah, Hal’s good…but he needs to talk to you.” Kyle waved a hand over her phone, and it shut off. “It’s important.”

(Y/N) felt her heart thump in her chest at how serious her friend was, and she nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”

***

She’d only ever been to the Watchtower once. And the only thing she remembered from the trip was getting lost in one of the hallways only to be found by Batman who merely picked her sobbing frame up and hummed to her until she fell asleep.

So really, it was like a first time visit all over again, and when she came face to face with not only the Justice League, well Wonder Woman, Batman, and Superman, and her uncles, she wasn’t exactly excited. It felt like she’d been called to the principal’s office for expulsion.

Hal pointed to a seat, which she took, not wanting to open her mouth when she had no idea what was going on.

Wonder Woman, surprisingly, was the first to speak. “What is your daughter doing here, Hal?”

Her father merely looked at (Y/N) then to Bruce, questioning, “How long?” They stared one another down and she felt as lost as last year’s Easter eggs. “How long, Bruce?” Hal asked again.

Batman didn’t even blink. “A full year. When she started working at the branch in Coast City, I had Jason start it.”

“Motherfucker.” Hal cursed, chuckling humorlessly. “I do all I can to keep her out of this bullshit and you drag her into it.”

“(Y/N) wanted to train. She emailed me through a private channel about it.”

All eyes turned onto her and then she knew what was happening. “He’s…right, dad. I wanted to be trained to fight.”

Hal gaped at her. “Why? You’re going to school? You’re working? Why do you want to train?”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly. “To be like you guys. You know, useful?” she stood from the table. “Look, I know you’re worried, but even Batman’s noted major improvements. He says I’m almost ready to start patrolling on my own.” She looked to him for help.

“She’s smart, Hal. And I’m not saying that to float the Jordan ego. Jason’s not one to give commendation where it shouldn’t be.” Batman nodded at her. “(Y/N)’s not my kids, but she’s right behind them on how good she is.”

Hal’s brown eyes turned onto him in a fierce glare. “Yeah, well, unlike you, I don’t make a habit out of putting my kid in danger. I know you have a thing for going through sons.”

“HEY!” (Y/N) shouted, getting his attention as she stood to her feet. “I’m old enough to make this decision for myself and if Batman says I’m good enough to do this, I’m gonna do it.”

“Nope. Not happening.” Hal rejected. “End of discussion.”

“No.”

His eyes went wide first with shock, then with the audacity of her language. “Excuse me?”

(Y/N) momentarily wanted to cave, but she held strong and tightened her jaw. “I said no.” she declared. “I’m gonna do this.”

Hal rounded the table, stomping up to her. “No, you’re not.”

“What’re you gonna do, dad? Lock me in the house for the rest of my life?” she suggested. “I have rights you know.”

“Not to do shit like this. I don’t want you being a hero.”

(Y/N) gazed at him, and suddenly, everyone felt the mood shift as she murmured, “It’s because I’m not a Lantern, isn’t it, dad?”

Hal’s jaw went slack. “What? What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” She shot back coolly, then tipped her head to the other league members. “See, they get to brag about their kids. Superboy, the Robins, the Wonder-Girls...everyone on this team has a trainee but you.” (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. “And you hate that I’m not like you, don’t you? That I can’t seem to figure out what it takes to wear that ring.”

She glanced at her uncles who were gaping at her. “See, you look at them like they’re the greatest people in the universe. And then when you look at me? It’s easy to see the devotion shift. Deep down it makes you disappointed that I’m not a Green Lantern.”

“You are absolutely out of line.” He growled.

“Am I, dad?” (Y/N) challenged. “Everyone here gets to brag about their superhero trainees but when it comes you, what can you say? ‘My daughter isn’t a Green Lantern like me, sorry!’?” she looked at him. “I’m not a Green Lantern, but I am something else. I can be something else. Let me prove it to you.”

Hal gazed at her for along moment. “…No.”

(Y/N) snapped. “Why the fuck not! What is it about me that just makes you so antagonistic at the idea of me being something like you!”

“Watch your language, young lady. I’m still your father.” He demanded.

“Oh please, as far as I’m concerned, you were just a failed pilot on leave who fucked my mom and got her pregnant.”

It happened before anyone realized it. The sharpest crack any of them had ever heard in their lives and (Y/N) turned her face back to him, a hand coming up to press against her stinging cheek. And Hal? Hal was staring at his hand as if it didn’t belong to him.

She wasn’t mad. Shocked, sure, but not mad. If anything, it’d proved her point and she merely regarded him with an assured gaze. “Bogey down, huh dad?” she remarked, and his eyes shot to hers.

Hal’s mouth opened but nothing would come out except, “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Yeah, you did,” she whispered, taking a step back from him when he reached for her.

His face crumpled and he brokenly called, “(Y/N), wait!”

But she was already running for the door, Batman on her heels.

***

“Do you want me to call Jason?” he asked quietly, watching her open the balcony doors.

Her hands stilled for a moment, then she resumed twisting the key. “No…and don’t tell him this happened either.”

“Why not?”

(Y/N) looked back at him. “Because you and I both know that Jason would beat my dad senseless.”

“…Do you want to come back to Gotham for a while?”

She opened the doors and sighed. “I don’t know, Batman.” Glancing back, she added, “I don’t really know what I want right now.”

“Do you want to be away from Hal?” he questioned seriously, and she looked at her feet.

“I know what you’re thinking. But he’s not abusive.”

“All evidence to the contrary.”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up. “My dad’s never laid his hands on me before now.”

“He ever physically discipline you?”

“Swatting your eight-year-old kid’s butt in the middle of a store when they’re having a meltdown over not buying an expensive toy is a lot different from beating them bloody and bruised with a beer bottle or a belt.’ (Y/N)’s eyes darkened, but not at her father’s face in her head, but at Batman. “My dad’s a lot of things. A jackass, a skirt chaser, a self-righteous arrogant prick…but he is not an abuser.”

Batman placed a hand on her shoulder. “He hit you.”

“Yeah? And? I insulted him and my mom straight to his face. Sure, slapping me wasn’t the answer, but I understand the reaction. Does is make is right? No. But neither is what I said. We both fucked up.” She shrugged his hand off. “We’ll talk about it and move on.”

“Because it’s what Jordan’s do?”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh but it was anything but mirthful. “Yeah. It’s what Jordan’s do.” She stepped inside and looked back at him. “Thanks for bringing me home, Batman. I appreciate it.”

He nodded, pulling out his grapple. “Call me if you need anything.” Batman gazed at her. “And think about calling Jason.”

“…I will.”

Batman gazed at her a moment longer then fired the grapple, taking off into the night sky towards the Batplane, then she was watching as it disappeared faster than it came.

With a heavy sigh, she turned and put her hands on the back of the loveseat, shutting her eyes as she thought about the events of the night. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to feel. Angry? Hurt? Responsible? It had to be all the above, especially when she pictured his face in her head after it happened. Shocked, ashamed, horrified, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done.

(Y/N) didn’t want to think about it, and when she heard a ring flashing in her ears, she turned. “Guys, I don’t wanna talk about—” she fell into a deep silence when she saw the man before her, the yellow suit glowing vividly against the dark sky.

“Hello (Y/N) Jordan. I am Sinestro.”

***Part Three***

Hal had taken her flying more times than she could’ve counted—perks of being a pilots daughter, and while she had faith in aircraft and Green Lantern constructs, she wasn’t sure how to feel about Yellow Lanterns and their tendency to drop people.

Coast City looked so small below her, and she swallowed thickly, trying greatly to keep her fear under control, keeping her eyes on the moon. She knew if Sinestro dropped her at this height, she’d die. There were no chances of survival at all—she’d hit the ground and pancake with the best of ‘em.

“I am rather surprised that you accepted my invitation so easily,” he remarked, not looking at her as they rose through the night sky.

“Yeah, well…I’ve heard enough stories about you to know that you’ll kill me if you want to.” Her eyes followed his frame. “I’d like to extend my life as long as possible.”

“A wise decision, (Y/N).” He noted rather humorously, finally taking the time to look back at her. “I’ve watched you for some time now.”

Ignoring the implications and total creepiness of the statement, she instead asked, “How long?”

“Long enough to see the potential you have in greater things.” Sinestro replied and reached a hand out, a horde of golden glowing constructs appearing before her eyes. Her training with Batman, with Jason, even with Hal and the others—most importantly, the fight just before. “It hurts that he doesn’t trust you to be like him, doesn’t it?”

She didn’t respond, merely watching the moment of his hand coming back across her face over and over again as the feelings welled in her chest.

“You try so hard to be of use to Hal. To be a Green Lantern like him, but nothing you do makes him proud.” He gazed at her with something akin to pity, but it felt like a manipulation. “I understand your fear of failure…of shame.” Holding out his hand, he made her own raise beside her body and a yellow ring floated from his palm. “I can feel the anger inside you. Your fear fights to quell it.” Sinestro smiled. “I almost want to call Atrocitus and have him recruit you into the Red Corps.”

(Y/N)’s eyes fell to the ring, and she clenched her hand into a fist to keep it from sliding onto her finger. “I—I can’t be a Yellow Lantern.”

“Why not?”

“Why n—because you’re the enemy of the Green Lanterns!” she shouted. “I’d be betraying my father and my friends and my family!”

He gave her a knowing look. “The same family that looked upon you with shame every time you tried to wield the green power ring, but couldn’t?”

She felt like she’d been shot, and her jaw dropped. “I…”

Sinestro nodded. “I understand. But you don’t, (Y/N). Willpower must be had since birth. Fear however—” he reached out, uncurling her fingers. “Can be taught. And you have potential to be trained with terror.” He met her gaze. “You can’t be a Green Lantern like Hal wants…but you can become something he has to recognize. Something powerful. Something fearsome.”

(Y/N) stared at him, and this time, she didn’t fight as the ring slipped onto her finger. (Y/N) Jordan of Earth. You possess the ability to instill great fear. Welcome to the Sinestro Corps.

The world started swirling around her, golden flashes of light bound her body and she screamed in terror as her nightmares came alive before her. The chains coiled, almost like snakes creeping up her body, tighter and tighter around her throat and up around her skull. The last thing she saw through her fearful gaze was Sinestro laughing darkly and the world before her went dark and she was subjected to her minds torment, brought upon by the forged ring.

For a moment, the world was calm, then the chains fell away, and (Y/N) stood before Sinestro, clothed in an exo-suit, similar to her father’s, but instead of the bright, awe-inspiring green, it was a golden, fear-inducing yellow.

And when she opened her eyes, they narrowed onto Sinestro, and all she said was, “I’m ready to receive my orders.”

[monochromemedic]

I had been stuck in the Dark World for who knows how long. The days didn’t seem to matter down here. No sun, no moon, just the vibrant green grid that coated the sky that would twitch and surge with occasional frequency.  When I first got here, I fought hard to get back to the surface, to fight for any sense of normalcy, for home but after a while the dream began to fade. The options began to run dry when compared to the dangers that surrounded me. And so I settled. I survived. I searched for food, begged for shelter from kind Darkners. I did what I had to to live. The Queen was not an option. Whispers from Darkners told me how I was just what she was looking for, that would help her expand her reign to the Light World. As much as that would probably help me, I didn’t want to ruin the lives of others for the chance to see my family, as much as I missed them with every passing minute. The sound of bustling cars and the blinding lights of neon signs stung my senses, my palms pressing into my eyes to drown out what I could. Damn it this place never slept did it? There was always something, some sort of noise. Whatever bags I had under my eyes were probably made cartoonishly drastic with the lack of pure rest I was getting. ‘Supose it was better then being dead... My body felt heavy, and I knew I’d have to find a place to rest or I’d fall asleep mid crossing of a road and get run over by one of those goofy cars I’d seen. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad... I recalled the time one of the car’s rear bumped into a fire hydrant (or at least I thought it was) and made a squeaking sound. The darkness of a certain alley called to me, the silence a sweet lullaby to the roaring around me. Was it dangerous? Oh yeah. Was it stupid? No shit. Was I going to do it? The shadows the engulfed me were perfect and if it wasn’t for the underlying stench of garbage it’d probably be ideal. Still beggars couldn’t be choosers and if tonight was good enough I would have to consider having this as my permanent sleeping spot. My back slid against the cool wall across from the dumpster, eyes half lidded as they read the advertisements littering above. Why the hell did the Queen have ads anyway, if she wanted she could monopolize any products she wanted... Despite the quiet I couldn’t shake the feeling that creeped down my spine. The presence of something other then myself around me. I tried to close my eyes, I was in the city after all. It’d be concerning if I didn’t feel like people were one second from crawling up my ass. Though I had to admit I didn’t expect to actually feel something begin to touch me. My eyes snapped open, elbow prodding into a blurry shape that yelped and tumbled backward, it’s grasp my on shoulder tearing a hole in my already worn shirt in the struggle. “Hey! What the hell?!” I barked, standing over the perpetrator. My shoulders slumped when I saw what looked to be a doll staring up at me with wide eyes, an over exaggerated smile permanently spread across it’s face. The creature’s jaw opened wider with a clack, it’s small body shooting upwards to stand on it’s small pointed feet. “WOAH WOAH WOAHAH- [Live worms]!”   The darkner’s voice was deafeningly loud, a shrill tone that cut the air like newly sharpened blades. “ I THOUGHT YOU WERE [Roadkill]. NICE TO KNOW I WON’T BE [Sleeping with the fishes] T0NIGHT!!” Well he had a certain way of speaking that was obvious. What the hell was going on with him, he talked like he was constantly being cut of random clips of other people speaking. He talked like a youtube poop or any other shitpost that would randomly shove memes into them for a quick laugh. “You thought I was dead? I was just... I was... uh.” I looked around me, eyeing the dirt and debris. “I was... going to sleep... here.”  Dammit, telling people I had to sleep in such ratty places were always a blow to the ego but I suppose it was better then saying ‘Oh I was just sitting down here to die’ The puppet shook his head and waltzed over to the dumpster, his small hand smacking the side with a sense of pride. “ [Finders keepers, losers weepers] HUMAN, YOU PICKED A GOOD SPOT. TOO BAD [so sadd] I GOT HERE FIRST. THOUGH FOR A DEAL I SUPPOSE I COULD [Share the love~]” “Got here first... what are you talking about?” The Darkner let out a laugh, distorted echoes filling the air as he leapt inside, a solitary hand popping out to beg me to come closer. This was a terrible idea, but despite my best judgement I followed, and witnessed what I could only describe to be a makeshift bed inside.  The puppet laid on top of musty mats and raggedy rugs, a single stained pillow resting just beneath his head. My god was he living in here? The creature continued his laugh, lurching only a few inches away from my face. “ [Sweet deal] ISN’T IT? J3ALOUS, [baby]?”  I shirked back, cheeks reddening at the tone of his last word. I was most defiantly not jealous, in fact I was filled with remorse, something his pride did not help with. “It’s... uh something. I guess this means I’ll have to find another alleyway um, sorry for bothering you-” “SPAMTON.” “What?” His hand shot out towards my chest, fingers wiggling for a handshake. “SP-SPA MTON G SPAMTON, [Number 1 rated salesmen 1997]” He announced, an extra flair of bravado laced his titled. His hand was surprisingly warm for what it was made of but nothing that would be described as body temperature.  “Jenna. Also 1997.” “WHAT A YEAR. LISTEN LIGHT nER, I AM DEALSMAN [yes/no?]” “Um... y-yes? I don’t-” “THEN LET ME MAKE A DEAL YEAH? FOR ONLY [many] KROMER, YOU MAY STAY IN MY [Privately owned] ALLEY. IT’S A REAL [steal] YOU’RE ROBBING ME [deaf] HERE!” My brows furrowed as I searched his face for any context clues for what the hell he was trying to say. Kromer? What the fuck was ‘kromer’? The only thing I knew of currency down here was dark dollars not kromer... even if he did ask for dark dollars he didn’t name a price, he just said many. And the amount of dark dollars I had was zero. “Uh I don’t have kromer. I don’t even have dark dollars I’m kinda broke Spamton, in case you couldn’t tell from uh...” I trailed off realizing saying that sleeping in an alley wasn’t a very smart thing to say to someone who slept in an alley.  He seemed surprised by my words, beginning to tug on my coat, flipping my pockets to see if I was really lying. I had to push his mitts off me a couple of times, to which he eventually got the idea the way his hands began to rub at his extended jaw. “NO KROMER... WHAT CAN YOU DO?” “What do you mean?” He seemed to sense my change in tone, his grin beginning to wobble nervously “[Whoopsie daisy!] LET ME START AGAIN. DO YOU HAVE A [trade]? A [skill] TO [Exchange for goods and services]?” he croaked. I eyed the ground, rubbing the back of my neck. What the hell was I good at again? “I mean, I can draw, I suppose...” “ARTIST? WOW OWOW!” Spamton’s face lit up before digging in the dumpster, pulling out a few napkins and a ball point pen and shoving them into my hands. “WHAT A [trade] TELL YOU WHAT. YOU DRAW A [one-of-a-kind masterpiece] AND YOU CAN STAY THE NIGHT!” “You’ll let me stay... if I draw something for you on this napkin. Am I getting that right?” The doll nodded feverishly, basically hovering over my shoulder as I played with the pen. This was certainly the weirdest way to pay someone that I could imagine... well no but one that was in the realm of reality. I had to ask Spamton to give me some space a few time, the feeling of his breath on  my neck making me more then nervous as I drew. God he was like those kids in school that would ask for drawings but ten times worse with the amount of personal space he’d give you. Besides I needed something to draw and with nothing on the mind why not draw the most interesting thing in front of me. I held the finished doodle out to Spamton only to have it snatched out of my fingers so fast I swore we could have started a fire. “WOAH...” The puppet sank inside of the dumpster, his face softening  as for once in what seemed like forever the alley way grew silent. “THIS IS... ME?” “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t know what to draw, you kind of put me on the spot. Besides everyone likes drawings of themselves right?” I shrugged, being pulled away from my thoughts by an overdramatic sniffle. Was he... crying? Not quite, just damn well close. Spamton’s shoulders quaked as a warm smile returned to his cheeks, slipping the napkin into his pocket with glee. “SO GOOD... THANK YOU.” “It’s really nothing, honestly that was a pretty shitty drawing.” “WHAT? YOU’RE [&#!^]ING ME! THAT WAS [BIG SHOT]” He was screaming again, hands gesturing wildly about. “It wasn’t but thank you. I wish I was better to be honest. I’m not very happy with my art, not at all.” I turned away from his gaze, unsure of why I was overcome by a choking sensation building my throat.  Why the hell was I telling this stranger this sort of stuff anyway? I mean I could hazard a guess it was the fact that this was the longest conversation I had had with anyone since I had gotten down here but with how things were it could be some magic power the doll possessed to tell him my deepest darkest secrets. “YOU DON’T THINK THIS IS [Big?]” “No.” “WHY NOT?” “I don’t know. I just... I think it doesn’t look the way I want it to. Doesn’t look good to me, and I don’t know how to fix it. Which I guess is a little funny considering how long I’ve been drawing. Just keep... drawing and drawing and never improving, least not how I’d like. It’s just garbage to me.” Spamton’s face seemed to fall, his glasses fading to a dark inky black.  “YOU FEEL? NO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO? YOUR [passion]?”  “Yeah.” A laugh ripped from his chest, his head lolling back with each chuckle. I felt my soul began to crack, a shame flooding my body with how hard he seemed to laugh. Did he find this funny? Humorous?  I felt tears prick my eyes as I snapped my head back to glare at him, his head glitching back to stare back at me. “YOU’RE JUST LIKE ME, JENNA. A [slime] A REAL [slime]!” With a quick motion the puppet jumped to the ground, his hand resting against my arm as he spoke.  “YOU’RE A REAL [BIG SHOT] YOU KNOW THAT? STAY AS LONG AS YOUR [Greasy little heart] DESIRES!” Well... that was unexpected. He’d really let me stay here as long as I want cause I was pathetic? Or did he just feel sorry for me? What was going on? And why was he calling me a slime... or us a slime?  “Oh... uh thanks? I didn’t think I was being  much of a big shot whatever that is but I apricate it. Really.” His head clacked with every little nod, leading me to a pile of cardboard boxes and patting them with the grace of a car salesman. “BEST [Seat in the house] ALL FOR YOU. [Night night forever]!” Spamton beamed, awkwardly swaying side to side before stumbling back to the dumpster a few inches away and crawling inside of it, much like a wild animal. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. This guy was weird. Kinda creepy but also kind of funny. I honestly couldn’t pinpoint a feeling on him but at least he didn’t want to hurt me just make weird ass deals and make me ‘big’. Did that mean famous? Was this guy so into my art he wanted to be some sort of manager? I rubbed my eyes and let out a yawn, the excitement of the day finally beginning to fade. God I forgot how tired I was, that little guy made me feel like I was gonna go into fight or flight.  “Hey Spamton?” “YES?” his voice echoed from inside the metal container. “...Thank you.”

[dancingamongstdust]

MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 4)

Requests are still open as of this post.

Shigaraki

You hadn’t meant to cause that level of destruction. It was an accident.

But they hadn’t seen it that way.

Their words followed you even when they could not. You could hear the accusations ringing in your head whenever you used your quirk – for better, or for worse. It became easier to ignore as you slowly learned to stop caring.

Until your quirk went out of control again.

You woke up in a dark room with a pounding headache and exhausted limbs. The doctor who was looking after you (a man you were relatively certain had no actual medical knowledge) had gotten very close and asked how much you remembered. When you informed him that it wasn’t much, he had smiled.

“Well, you certainly drew attention to yourself,” he had laughed. “Perhaps you should consider yourself lucky that the heroes didn’t get to you first.”

“I guess so…”

Something warned you that this situation was more dangerous than it seemed. Your eyes drifted over the covered windows of the room and you stared at the door. “Why did you help me?”

“Well that’s hardly for me –“

He didn’t get a chance to answer before you dashed for the exit. The doctor’s quirk didn’t allow him to grab you and his alarmed shout was all you heard before you were darting down the hallway. You weren’t going to stick around and get experimented on.

You turned the corner, heart pounding in your chest. They must have given you something because you felt drowsy. The entire world was spinning.

But you had to nearly trip yourself up to avoid running directly into somebody as you sprinted down a different hallway.

This was hardly your first time dealing with villains and many of them had odd quirks, to say the least. It shouldn’t have shocked you to see somebody with a human hand on their face but maybe the medication was lowering your tolerance because it was terrifying.

“Who are you?” you snapped out, immediately on the defense. You took a step away, ready to run or fight, whichever seemed easiest.

The man didn’t seem too bothered by your snap at least; the one eye that you could see watched you steadily from behind his hand mask. “I’m sure you’re not meant to be running around here,” he said. “But you’re no hero so you must be here for your quirk. Do you still have it?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t unknown in the underground that there was a man who stole quirks he liked. Nobody knew what he did with them but it wasn’t unheard of for villains to wake up with nothing. And you would never get them back.

You could feel your quirk was still there. It pulsed under your skin like a warning.

“My quirk?” you repeated. “I have my quirk.”

You did a random gesture, summoning all of your past acting experience to appear horrified when nothing happened. Again and again you tried before looking around in shock and horror.

The guy bought it and he shrugged. “Then there’s no reason to stop you.” He brushed past you and continued walking. “Not like you could find the exit anyway.”

The moment he turned the corner, you dropped the act and bolted again. This place was a maze but you found the exit and avoided any encounters with a practiced ease. Before leaving, you looked back up at the building and grimaced, hoping to never see it again.

Toga

It was late at night when you had the strangest encounter of your life. Not that that was a bad thing necessarily but it was something that occurred, nevertheless.

You had been feeling quite exhausted from a long day of fun with your friends. They had headed off to get a cab when you had realised that you needed the bathroom and disappeared to go find one.

There was a public toilet not too far from the street though it certainly wasn’t as clean as you would have hoped. Not to be deterred, you slipped in and found a sight that, even to your exhausted mind was uncomfortable.

A girl stood in front of one of the mirrors, blood staining much of her face. It covered the counter beneath her fingers and seemed to be coming from her lip.

“Are you okay?!” you asked, panicked.

She looked up at you, startled. Her dark hair covered much of her expression but she seemed a little out of it. Maybe she got hit on the head or something.

“I –“ she paused, her voice croaky and sore. She brought her hand up to rub her throat. “I think so.”

“Just wait, let me help you,” you said. You rushed into one of the stalls and gathered up some toilet paper. “Do you need me to call somebody or?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No. Thank you.”

You offered some of the damp tissue to her and she started wiping it away from her mouth. While she dealt with that, you cleaned the blood that she had left on the counter, making sure to get it out of all the cracks in and around the sink. “What happened to you?” you asked. “Did somebody attack you?”

“I slipped,” she said. “The tiles are really slippery and I think that I hit my mouth on the sink. It’s all kind of blurry.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, digging through your bag and grabbing some headache tablets. You offered the bottle to her. “Take two of those just in case. Even if it doesn’t hurt now, you don’t want to wake up with a headache tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Do I still have any blood on me?”

“Just on your jaw,” you pointed out. “Come on, my friends and I are getting a cab. We can call one for you also if you need.”

She took one last glance in the mirror before leaving. You had forgotten your own need for the bathroom and it was for good reason also. If you had hung around for a little longer, you may have seen blood trickling out from one of the stalls. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have been so worried about this stranger hitting her head.

“What’s your name?” you asked as you looked around for your friends.

“Toga,” the girl said, though she didn’t seem too happy with having told you. The words must have slipped out without her meaning to.

You gave her your own name and went up onto your toes to look around the crowd for your friends. Eventually you spotted them and waved but when you spoke to Toga, she didn’t respond.

She had disappeared into the crowd.

You went back into the bathroom and checked but she was long gone. Just like how the blood has escaped your notice earlier, you didn’t see the blonde watching you from the other side of the street, her head tilted a little.

Dabi

It was a rare day when you found yourself alone without at least one person to watch your back. You didn’t always need the protection but sometimes, it was nice to have.

But you had given your word and it wouldn’t do to back out of this now.

The building where everything had been organised was old and crumbling – its ancient nature hidden on the outskirts of the city and slowly becoming overtaken by countless plants. It wasn’t somewhere anybody with good intentions would find themselves.

You liked to think that your work was good. It benefitted many and took only from those who could afford to lose it. Unfortunately though, rules had to be broken for the best results, and sometimes what was classified as ‘wrong’ turned out to be needed in order to achieve a goal. It wasn’t quite in line with what you believed but it had to be done.

Did working with villains make you uncomfortable? Of course. But it was hardly going to be something that stopped you from moving forward.

The two members from the League of Villains that had been sent to meet you were both men. You didn’t bother with greetings, just holding up the briefcase that you held.

“I’m looking for a specific artwork,” you said. “I’ve been told that you might be able to help?”

“An artwork?” the one asked. He wore a white and black mask that concealed most of his face and an extremely gaudy costume.

“Not just an artwork,” you explained. “It has something of mine hidden in the canvas. Normally, I would just get the police involved but if they found it, it would be quite problematic for me. The group that stole it won’t listen to many but the League of Villains, I’m afraid. They have a few good quirks and they’re extremely cocky for it.”

“We’re not lapdogs,” the other man said. “Especially not for whatever agenda you’re pushing.”

“I don’t pay lapdogs,” you acknowledged. “Consider me a sponsor.”

Flames cackled into existence in his hand, surprising his colleague enough to jump a little. “Chances are, they’ve already found your thing. Even if they haven’t, the league can hardly go around picking fights with random gangs.”

“Shigaraki did ask –“

The masked man was cut off by a glare. Blue flames sent flickering light through the air as they waited patiently for your answer.

“If it’s already been discovered or if it happens to get damaged during the process, then I don’t plan on getting anything out of our deal. It’ll simply be a loss on my side.”

The flames slowly flickered out and you allowed yourself to breathe again. Confidence was a requirement for these deals but you didn’t quite have the nerves of steel that you portrayed. It was always a fight to keep your reactions in check.

“I guess if we happen to bump into the group, we can check around for your shit.”

You knew his bluff as well as your own. The League of Villains had always worked well with those who had money. They required funding and wouldn’t say no to being able to flex their reputation around the underground. It was almost needed with the way rumours were circulating.

It was less than a week after that encounter when you found your artwork sitting outside your home. Charred on the edges, it was damaged enough to make the art itself worthless. But your items inside were perfectly unharmed.

Not bad for your first time working alongside the League of Villains. It was worth the cost… you should do it more in the future.

Twice

When you had been called in for this job, you had no idea that it was going to turn into a fight of the magnitude you experienced.

Flames tore along the streets. They melted lamps and trapped hundreds inside buildings – the screams for help becoming almost deafening as you broke down yet another wall to get civilians out. It was the third building you had had to smash into and there were more yet.

Nobody could get out and, if they remained trapped, they wouldn’t survive much longer.

When your partner and you had realised you were dealing with the League of Villains, you had immediately called in the big guns. What you hadn’t realised was that doing so would result in a brawl of sorts in the streets. The League of Villains didn’t care about collateral and honestly, sometimes you wondered if the heroes did.

You were starting to overheat. The amount of fire swirling around was getting to you, drawing the breath from your lungs and slowing your movements. Its angry blue nature hinted at its abysmal nature.

The next building’s walls took even longer to get through but you managed it and a few people scrambled out. You ushed as best as you could although it was starting to get hard to speak.

But then you noticed a dark figure lying in one of the rooms

Outside, the fire roared and smacked against the walls but you couldn’t just leave somebody there. You stepped over the rubble and made your way to the figure.

It was hard to make out details with the flames. The heat seemed to be getting worse as you approached – soon identified as being caused by the gaping hole in the wall. It radiated around the room in waves. You covered your mouth and nose the best you could, creeping forward to reach where the person was.

When you arrived, it took you no time to recognise that you weren’t saving an unfortunate civilian but rather a member of the League itself.

You hesitated for a second before hooking your arms under his and beginning to drag him away from the danger. This was the type of thing that lost reputation for heroes. Civilians didn’t like seeing villains being rescued but you honestly didn’t care.

If he was left there, he was probably going to end up dying.

Though he had seemed unconscious, when you got him out of the building, he muttered something and moved. It was enough to make you jump back but he didn’t attack or anything. He just touched his face and then let his arm go limp again.

You moved back cautiously. His suit had been ripped on the one side, missing its arm and half of the torso. You checked his pulse, relieved to feel that it was still going, even if it was unsteady.

“Can you hear me?” you asked.

He didn’t respond and you reached up to remove his mask. His hand immediately snapped up to grab your wrist and you prepared to activate your quirk but all he did was push your arm away from his face.

Alright then. No touching the mask.

You bandaged the open wound on his side as best as you could. It looked like he had gotten launched through the building. Once he was as stable as he could be, you moved him to a safer area and jumped back into the fray. A ton of rescues later and the heroes had won, at the destruction of much property.

And, rather unsurprisingly, the villain you had saved was long gone.

Overhaul

There was a new drug running around the market. You had heard of a number of small-time villains taking it – most of them dying shortly after consumption. It wasn’t unheard of. If something had even the promise of a good time then it would attract thousands.

But what was a problem was that you had lost several of your newest underlings as a direct result of this drug.

Given how picky you were about hiring, this was going to be a problem.

You tracked the source to none other than the Shie Hassaikai. They were an old branch of the yakuza, sitting on the edge of a downward spiral into irrelevance. Rumors followed that their boss had fallen quite ill and now, it was only a matter of time until they fell completely on their faces.

So you didn’t feel too nervous when you approached the house that fronted their main base. Even with the members watching you from the bushes, you kept a straight line.

You weren’t unknown. It would do them a great disservice to attack you.

And they knew it.

You walked in the front door with absolutely no resistance and remained unsurprised when two masked men came out to greet you. They didn’t ask about your business or enquire as to who you were. Instead, they led you into a sitting room and gestured for you take a seat.

Instead of that, you walked around the room and picked up everything that looked interesting. Nothing was hidden around but you hadn’t expected there to be.

“Please don’t touch things without gloves on,” a smooth voice interrupted your curiosity. “Cleaning this entire house is rarely needed and I’d rather you didn’t change that.”

You turned around to find somebody considerably younger than you had expected for the head of the Shie Hassaikai. He wore their signature mask and a feathered coat, almost his entire body hidden in some way.

“Not a fan of germs?” you enquired.

“Not at all.”

You shrugged and made your way to the couch, sinking down into it. “Guess that means no drinks or anything? Oh well, that’s too bad.” You gestured for him to sit.  “So, you’re not who I was expecting.”

“You’ve never worked with our organisation before,” he said, sitting on the edge of the chair opposite you.

“No. You’re not in the same line of work as me and I don’t care too much about the Yakuza.”

“Then why are you here?”

You straightened, aware that you were about to get into the most dangerous part of the meeting. “Your drugs have been getting into my areas. Now, I don’t care all too much about how you distribute stock but it’s not just coming into possession of low-life criminals. My men are getting practically gifted it.”

His eyes narrowed. “We need to test it somehow. Besides, that sounds like a problem for you, no? Have better control of your men.”

“Keep your test tube shit out of my territories.”

A small staring contest took place – a test to see who would break first. You had been in almost a hundred of these over the course of your career. They didn’t bother you much at all in anymore.

Eventually he waved his hand through the air. “I guess we could stop supply to traders in your areas but this isn’t a charity.”

“I could kill your men.”

“But you would lose your own in the process. Wouldn’t it be easier to do this the peaceful way and maybe even establish a relationship between our two groups?”

“You have my attention. Don’t waste it.”

Kurogiri

There are those days when everything begins so well only to rapidly spiral into a situation out of your worst dreams. This was something like that.

You had gotten horribly caught in the crossfire of a battle between heroes and villains. It all occurred faster than you could have ever imagined – flashes of light and explosions of sound. People were screaming, the sound coming through a haze as you tried to get a grasp on what had happened.

Blood was trickling down your arm but you felt no pain. You slowly lifted your head. Something had hit you, you remembered that now as your brain caught up to the dull ache coming from your ribcage.

You tried to move, finding that you couldn’t. The ache became worse and a heavy, scraping sound interrupted your attempts to crawl away.

It was a piece of concrete, heavy and painful, pinning you effectively to the ground. A smaller chunk was holding it up and stopping you from being crushed. But if you moved too much…

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, nearly choking on the dust that filled the air. Maybe if you shifted slowly.

A crunching noise made you hiccup.

Alright, so that wasn’t going to work either. You strained your eyes to see through the carnage but you couldn’t make out any heroes. They would come eventually; you just had to wait patiently and try not to move too much.

The concrete seemed to get heavier still and you fought the desire to cry.

There was a crunching sound. You couldn’t just wait around.

Slow as you dared, you began to inch forward. The rough surface snagged at your clothing and made every centimeter feel like it was going to end with you crushed. Worse still, the more you moved, the more apparent the injury on your back became.

The blood that had been trickling down your arm was now creeping along your torso. It pooled in your clothes and made everything sticky.

You tried not to think about it but it made you light-headed regardless.

About half-way out, you spotted somebody nearby. It was just their silhouette but still, relief flooded your veins and you cried out desperately for help.

The figure made its way over to you, soon revealing that the man was almost entirely made of smoke. He wore a suit and tie but his body swirled as though only somewhat solid. Bright yellow eyes stared at you – any emotion behind them was completely unreadable.

His eyes traced your shape. “You’re not who I’m looking for.”

“Please help me. This thing’s going to crush me.”

He paused, the swirling darkness that made up his face shuddered as though it was unsure how to respond. “I should leave you here,” he mentioned. “You’re of no consequence to me or to my cause. If anything, I should add pressure to the piece of rubble and make sure the fatality numbers are higher.”

You caught of whimper before it could escape. “Please.”

His smoke shook again, almost as though he was struggling to keep hold of it. Then he raised a foot and placed it on the concrete.

You screwed your eyes shut and tried to imagine the best parts of life.

A loud horn blaring made you open them again and a surprised yelp escaped as you saw tires race past in front of you. People were shouting, their voices loud and nearby. Bright lights surrounded you and the air was clear once more.

The last thing you remembered seeing was a panicked nurse rushing over to you.

[jujutsu-headcanons]

Gojo Satoru general headcanons

Let's get one thing clear: this man is absolutely chaotic. He is always full of energy. His energy levels never reach below 50%. He is loud and proud, always running, and never takes a minute to relax.

Do not give him Monster. Shoko did that once and it took her forever to get him off the ceiling. Also, avoid caffeine. Shoko replaces his normal coffee with decaf and he still hasn't noticed the difference. Keep it that way.

He was the class clown when he was younger. He wasn't exactly a trouble maker, but he may as well be. I cannot word that sentence and I am sorry. Next.

All of his teachers assumed he never listened in class, so they always called in him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. It still shocked them every time he rattled off the correct answer.

Not only did he answer the question correctly, but he could also explain his reasoning behind the answer, and if it was multiple choice, explain why the other answers were wrong. 

This tall man child would march up to the board and absolutely fill it to the brim with work, turn around, drop the chalk-like a mic drop and walk back to his desk with the smuggest look on his face.

That doesn't mean he did the work tho

Idk how schools in japan work but we all know schools in America only care about the amount of work you do and not what you actually know so we'll use that for the sake of the headcanon: he had straight D's bc he never turned in his work

Despite not doing the work snd goofing off, teachers actually really liked him

A lot of people liked him and he was super popular, but he still felt alone

Fake friends, you know how that works, he didn't meet any real friends until he became a shaman

Clean freak. This dude actually makes his bed. He scrubs his bathroom twice a week. His desk can get cluttered but he straightens up once a week. He's not exactly a germaphobe because

He cannot respect your personal space and that's actually canon but let me take it a step further 

He's a slapper. Especially when he laughs. It doesn't hurt, it's playful dw. He hugs you from behind especially when he's cold. He picks you up and carries you around. He will grab your wrist, arm, or hand and lead you around even if you're following him. He lays his legs across you or lays across your lap. Puts his head on your shoulder. Platonic cuddling between friends is mandatory. He's just so hands-on it's ridiculous.

Unless you explicitly tell him you're uncomfortable he won't stop

Don't worry, if you aren't in that type of relationship, your no-no square is safe. Except, if you seem chill, he will slap your ass regardless of friendship status. His ass is also slappable. You can't tell me Geto and Gojo didn't run around slapping each other asses, okay

He was weird and scrawny as a child. He didn't start beefing out until he started training to be a shaman and he's still kinda smaller than most beefy boys

He can pick you up and throw you around easily. He carried around a 170 pound Yuji like a sack of potatoes and can easily carry around three times that weight

It's amazing he's so tiny because you remember 2014 Shane Dawson making all of those wack ass desserts that was just s pile of chaos wrapped in chocolate?

He can eat every last bite of one of those monstrosities without getting a stomach ache, gaining weight, or dying basically

He knows bc Yuji dared him to do it

He has really cold hands and feet

He sounds old. Let me elaborate. He's constantly cracking his joints. They also creak when he moves. He complains about body pains like he's 80 y/o

He also shares wisdom with the kids as if he's actually 80 y/o

It's irrelevant advice that doesn't make sense but is also useful. Megumi can't count the number of times he's asked Gojo for feedback on his technique but had been told to remember to chew 40 times or never go to bed angry

Starts off sentences with "now son" and "when I was your age"

He uses his blindfold as a headband when he wants his hair out of his face. He also uses headbands as... Headbands... When he wants to wear sunglasses but get his hair out of his face

He owns so many pairs of sunglasses but he always wears the same pair

He's only bought a handful of them himself, most of them are gifts

No one knows what to get him for Christmas or his birthday bc he has everything, so they resort to sunglasses

His favorite pair is a pair that Shoko and Geto bought him as a gag. He thought they were dead serious, though, so he wore them around for a month

They were heart-shaped, rose-tinted glasses

Can you believe this man doesn't use any gel or anything to keep his hair spiky with the blindfold on? It just naturally defies gravity when the blindfold is on

Tell this man he's pretty because he already knows. He's narcissistic but not the cringy kind

Photogenic as hell. Takes great pictures from any angle. 

He gives everyone a different story as to why he covers his eyes. Sometimes he says it's because his eyes are too pretty and are a distraction. Sometimes he says it's because the sunglasses/bandages/blindfold look cooler than his eyes. Sometimes he says it's to protect the six eyes from seeing things he doesn't want to see. The world may never know

He's tried covering his whole face before, but he thinks he's too pretty for that. He at least wants one of his many amazing features to be shown at all times.

So about his driver's license;

He knows how to drive. He can be a good driver. When he wants to be. He just doesn't have a driver's license.

Now he TELLS people he just never got around to getting one, however, there's a rumor he lost it due to too many parking tickets

It's amazing the only tickets he's ever gotten have been from that and once he got caught without a seatbelt; he would have gotten out of that one if he hadn't been flirting with the police officer so bad

This doesn't stop Gojo from driving places though

He steals Ijichi's car a LOT and Ijichi DOESN'T KNOW HOW like??? The windows are never broken and it doesn't look hotwired-

Gojo has a key

You're not even supposed to be able to duplicate car keys but Gojo did 

Also; none of the first-year trio knows he doesn't have a driver's license, though that much should be painfully obvious

He whips around corners, speeds up at yellow lights, goes "watch this" and does a donut, it's just a mess

The poor students have to sit in the backseat too. Just imagine Megumi with all three seatbelts around him like that one meme.

He thrives off of Nobara and Yuji screaming from the backseat, and he can see Megumi being smooshed because he thought the middle seat was the safest through the rearview mirror

Which he doesn't even need because of the six eyes

Despite being such a reckless driver, he knows when danger will happen, so he's never once gotten in a wreck

He blasts the radio, which makes up for the driving.

Has a habit of getting in a car and ending up in the McDonalds drive-thru

Steals other people's fries and keeps the fullest one for himself.

He was rebellious as a kid and teenager, but hey, at least his juvie record is sealed 

He's been detained and in the back of a cop car many times, but the reason was never really bad enough for him to be arrested. Mostly he's just being mouthy. And the time he got caught spray painting on the side of a building. And that one time he and Getou hopped the fence to get into the local pool. And that other time-

It got worse after Getou wasn't around to get him out of trouble. Suddenly, breaking the rules wasn't fun anymore and he mellowed out. 

Tried alcohol and cigarettes before he was legal. Decided neither was his thing, however, he did start drinking occasionally when he was legal.

He's a fucking chaotic drunk. Oh my god he's absolutely feral

Most bars in the vicinity know him by name and they sigh whenever he walks in

Shoko is his emergency contact. She hates it

Shoko has to drag drunk Gojo home at least twice a month and is not happy about it

Once she left him in an alley. He made it home okay so she guesses it's fine

Once he got so drunk he spilled beer on his sock. The thought the fastest way to dry them was by sticking them in the microwave. Forgot about it until someone asked, "Who the fuck is cooking socks???"

I feel it important he was in the break room of the local grocery store and no one knows how he got there

As he was escorted out he stole a grocery cart and rode away in it while singing Don't Threaten Me (With A Good Time) by Panic! At The Disco

He has no alcohol tolerance at all what so ever

He will literally just stare at you and giggle

It's funny he's really flirty but also doesn't seal the deal. Literally, every woman in that bar is willing to get in his bed but he declines every offer. No one knows why

Its because he respects women

He helps his students break the rules as long as they're within reason. Once night Yuji was really hungry and after having a temper tantrum he couldn't order Uber eats bc the school is supposed to be secret Gojo helped sneak him out to get food. Who needs curfew anyway.

The shirts in his closet range from like twenty bucks to the iconic rich bitch shirt the kids ruined in that one chapter we all know the one 

He still wears that by the way, he calls it "art" 

When he was younger, Megumi drew a picture of Gojo being eaten by his shadow dogs. Gojo found it and now it's framed in his room.

He keeps up with current trends and memes like no one's business. This is how he bonds with his kids.

Don't call him old, but also, he'll tell you to respect your elders it's a mess

He has a lot of games on his phone. You can usually find him holding his phone sideways playing some RPG game he probably spent too much money on 

He did hop on the Pokemon Go hype train but after becoming overpowered he got bored

This happens to a lot of games. He pays way too much money, gets to be the strongest in the server, and gets bored

He likes games where you can kill other people's troops and likes to watch as they lose all their power

I canon him as being borderline sadistic

This is why he's Sakata Gintoki reincarnated

White hair, sweet tooth, black leather clothes, dad vibes, never takes anything seriously bc when he does he's scary as fuck, the works.

He is Sakata Gintoki

He liked Gintama growing up. He watched a lot of iconic shows as they aired. He considers himself an og

He's hella bilingual

Because he's the strongest he goes overseas for missions a lot. Because of this he speaks a lot of languages and knows a lot about international cuisine 

He takes pictures of himself eating disgusting foods like snails. He never likes them but he loves the idea of Nobara gagging back in japan

Has paperwork sitting untouched on his desk from three months ago that he will not touch for at least another three months

Does the crossword puzzles in the newspaper every week

Uses humor as a coping mechanism and it honestly just became a personality

Constantly popping his joints. I'm sorry if you find this gross I too find it gross.

Probably brought home every stray animal he ever met ever until he was at least like 22 y/o

Tags: @wasabito @kittaliapenn

[featherymalignancy]

How About a Hug, Hm? REMIX

So a few days ago I got this ask about my Elriel one-shot “How About A Hug?” because I messed up the formatting and I you basically have to to read it as a reblog. I also was really unsatisfied with the end result.

So, I did the most Feathery™️ thing every and REWROTE THE WHOLE GODDAMN THING.

Please enjoy, and know that I will go back and tag people/clean up formatting tomorrow. Right now I just need to post and 😴

——————————————————

Elain Archeron was running late.

Granted, it was only by seven minutes, which—in many social circles—was still considered well within the accepted boundaries of punctuality.

The problem was that a) being late made Elain anxious, and b) there was absolutely nothing polite about Nesta Archeron when she was made to wait, even by her own kin.

Yet another reason it had been critical that Elain arrive on time: Nesta was already likely to be somewhat hacked off when she saw what Elain was wearing tonight, and Elain had hoped to avoid any further dramatics on her elder sister’s part.

She spent half the cab ride downtown trying to convince herself that it was fine that she’d borrowed something out of Nesta’s closet (even if it had been without permission) and that she hadn’t had a choice; she simply didn’t own anything appropriate for dinner at a four-star restaurant. However, by the time the cab slithered under Trump Tower’s unsavory shadow and into Hell’s Kitchen, she’d given up pretending.

The truth was she had half a dozen cocktail dresses that would have been perfectly suitable for dinner in the West Village, even if the place they were going was one of the nicest sushi restaurants in the city. No, Elain had raided Nesta’s closet for a far more embarrassing reason: she’d been in search of a dress she hoped might finally win her Azriel’s attention.

She wasn’t proud of the absurd crush she had on the guy, but it really couldn’t be helped. He was gorgeous, and smart, and darkly funny when he wanted to be, and she’d been secretly mooning over him since they’d met through Feyre’s fiancée three years ago. God, what she wouldn’t give to have him return even a fraction of her feelings.

Apparently not her dignity, Elain thought with a glance down at her neckline.

The worst part was that Azriel seemed oblivious to her interest in him. He was always polite to her, always made a point to talk to her when he caught her hiding out on the balcony during one of Feyre and Rhys’s crazy parties or sit next to her at their big family dinners, but he’d never once given her any indication that he was in any way that he reciprocated her feelings, which should have been reason enough for Elain to pack it in and stop harassing him.

And that was to say nothing of Mor.

Mor was the friend who’d first introduced Feyre and Rhys, and from what Elain could gather, she and Azriel had a long and complicated history. It didn’t seem to matter that Mor had been dating the same girl for over a year now. When she was in the room, Az’s eyes were always on her. Not that Elain blamed him—Mor was gorgeous in a way girls like her could only dream of being. Still, there was no denying the sting of watching the guy you were interested in pine over someone else.

Given all this, Elain wasn’t really sure why she’d gone to such lengths to dress up for this dinner. Mor would surely be there wearing something incredible and couture, thereby rendering everyone else invisible to Azriel. Still, Elain was a hopeless optimist, and she’d stubbornly sold herself on the idea that if she found the perfect dress, she could finally convince Azriel that she was a woman worthy of affection, rather than Nesta’s bookish, boring little sister.

She had to admit, there was nothing bookish about her tonight. The dress was tighter on her that it was her waifish sister, and dear god it deserved a Medal of Honor for the way it managed to keep her boobs looking so perky even without a bra. She didn’t suppose Nesta would be too happy about that bit, either, so she could only hope her sister was in a good mood by the time Elain arrived.

Just then Elain’s phone buzzed, and she looked down at it and groaned. It was from Nesta.

Where the 🤬 are you?

Running late, Elain quickly typed back. Is everyone waiting?

She watched the gray ellipsis pulse at Nesta responded.

Feyre and Rhys aren’t even fucking here yet. But hurry up, Cash is already driving me insane.

Elain rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure who Nesta thought she was fooling when she and Elain shared a bedroom wall. Nesta and Cassian, Rhys’s other best friend, ended up banging almost every time they saw each other, which—since Rhys and Feyre had gotten engaged four months ago—was fairly frequently. In fact, Cash was at their apartment making Nesta scream so often that Elain had been forced to invest in earplugs and a sound machine. From Elain’s perspective, it seemed rather pointless of Nesta to pretend she wasn’t completely hot of a guy she called “Daddy” in bed.

Elain shuddered at the thought, hoping that Nesta would end up going to Cash and Az’s loft in Williamsburg tonight instead. Though, she realized glumly, they only ever seemed to go there when Azriel was out, and the only person who seemed able to keep Azriel out later than Cash was Mor. That meant Elain’s options were either to pop an Ambien and hope for the best, or stay out and watch Az make moon eyes at Mor all night. Neither one was particularly appearing.

Elain ignored Nesta’s text as the car pulled up outside the restaurant and she wiggled out, smoothing the back of her tight dress before giving her curls what she hoped was an artful tousle before slipping inside.

Elain’s heart felt into her stomach as she took in the elegant but understated interior of the famed Sushi Nakazawa. Given the prices, she’d assumed the place would be all black granite and swanky chandeliers—the kind of place cleavage like hers wouldn’t seem out of place. Instead the place was elegantly spare and distressingly well-lit. God, she was such a prize idiot.

Unfortunately, she was also out of time, because a quick survey of the interior found that her group was already gathered at the bar, Mor, Feyre, and Rhys having showed up in the interim between Nesta’s text and Elain’s arrival.

Elain’s eyes went to Mor first, who stunned in a cardinal red lace and net sheath. It clung to her frame like it had been made for her, and despite a latent jealous she couldn’t quite contain, she was relieved to find that she at least wouldn’t look overdressed.

Elain’s stomach only wended in a tighter knot when Mor’s eyes fell on her and lit up, a reminder that not only was Mor prettier, she was also an infinitely better person than Elain.

“There she is!” Mor beamed, coming forward and hugging Elain. “I love that dress, Ellie!”

Elain braced herself for Nesta’s inevitably remark, but it was actually Cash who reacted first.

He’d opened his mouth to comment seemingly before he’d actually looked at Elain, because the second he realized what exactly she was wearing, his eyes they snapped the ceiling, as if looking at her chest directly might turn him to stone.

“Whoa, El, all dressed up tonight!”

Nesta, wholly unmoved by his attempted chivalry, elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don’t be vulgar Cassian!” She snarled before narrowing her eyes. “And that’s mine!”

Cash smirked, seeming more at ease now that Nesta was his target.

“I knew I’d seen that bef—ow! Goddamnit woman, what was that for?”

He scowled down at the dangerous stiletto Nesta had just jammed into his toe box.

“Sorry,” she cast over her shoulder, not deigning to look at him. “Did I accidentally step on your foot?”

“I’m an adult,” Elain interjected, cheeks burning as she faced her sister down. “Stop acting like I’ve fourteen and stuffing my bra.”

“They’re just boobs, Nes,” Rhys added, arm slung over Feyre’s shoulder. “Relax.”

“Watch it,” Nesta warned him, but Feyre only laughed.

“I agree!” She said, turning to smile at Elain. “And I think they look amazing.”

“If I’d have known they were going to be such a topic of conversation,” Elain mumbled, grateful Azriel wasn’t here to witness this circus. “I would have worn something else.”

“No, I’m with Feyre,” Mor said, wicked grin forming. “Breasts that nice deserve to be shown off.”

Elain wasn’t so humble that she didn’t feel herself preening a bit at that comment, even if she was still flustered by the prolonged attention. Either way, she was grateful when Cash interrupted with a somewhat sheepish laugh.

“Teenage me would be furious if he heard me say this, but can we please stop talking about boobs?”

“Elain’s boobs or just any boobs?” Feyre said with a smirk.

However, before Elain could admonish her for it, Feyre was crushing her into a hug.

“Hey you,” she said, wrapping her arms and Elain’s neck and whispering in her ear, “let me and Rhys know if you wanna stay at our place tonight; Cash already grabbed Nesta’s ass twice when she thought we weren’t looking.”

Feyre indicated the mirror behind the bar with her eyes as they pulled away, and sure enough, Elain watched Cash’s hand as it drew lazy, dangerous circles just above the swell of Nesta’s well-formed behind.

Elain groaned, hugging Rhys now as well. God , her sister was such a hypocrite sometimes.

Ignoring a lingering twinge of annoyance, Elain forced herself to glance in false realization before casually asking, “So where’s the Birthday Boy?”

“He was on his phone out back,” Rhys said, before raising a hand in greeting to someone over Elain’s shoulder. “There he is.”

Elain tried not to look to eager as she turned and drank in all six feet four inches of perfection that was Azriel Macar. He was dressed all in black, from his prada boots to the soft, expensive t-shirt fitted enough to show off his toned physique. Elain honestly had to fight not to swoon as he ran an effortless hand through his glossy sable hair, the longer pomaded pieces on top stand up for a second before falling into an artful tousle.

“Hey Ellie,” he said, gaze on her and gone so quickly that he never even had time to notice her much-discussed cleavage. Instead, his eyes flicked to Mor and held for a long, meaningful beat before he turned back to Elain and added politely, “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” she chirped, trying to ignore the fact that he was coming closer, and that in another second she’d be able to smell that divine Givenchy cologne he always wore. “Of course!“

She bent her head, pretending to be fixing the clasp on her bracelet as his scent hit her and she had to bite back a groan. Sweet Jesus, he smelled good. When she looked up again, everyone else was shuffling to their table and Azriel was lingering, a soft smile threatening to the reveal the absolutely devastating dimples in both his cheeks.

“Do I get a hug?” He asked. “It is my birthday after all.”

He extended his arms, and she gave a nervous laugh, accepting the gesture by stringing her arms around his neck.

“Of course,” she repeated stupidly, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he embraced her. “Happy Birthday.”

At this he squeezed her a little tighter and she fought off genuine giddiness.

It was a friendly gesture, she warned herself, and it ended the minute Mor called, “Az, come sit by me.”

Elain cleared her throat as he pulled away, turning to where Mor was still beckoning. However, before Elain could get too flustered, he turned back to her.

“Shall we?” he said, indicating Elain go ahead of him. To her delight, they reached the table to find that the only two seats left were next to each other. She tried not to give her eagerness too much leash as he pulled out her chair for her before sinking into the one between she and Mor. Mor leaned over to give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he flushed.

“Where’s Emmy tonight?” Feyre asked as Mor tried to wipe the lipstick from Az’s copper skin and he battered her away, like child trying to fend off an over-bearing mother.

“She’s sick, poor little thing,” Mor said, giving a tiny pout. “She hasn’t been able to get out of bed in days.”

Elain didn’t bother to her disappointment. Emerie had been one of Nesta’s best since they’d met in college almost ten years ago, and she not only was she like family to the Archerons, she also happened to be the only person in the group who knew about Elain’s crush. Elain had sworn her to secrecy at the time, and though it would have been reasonable to assume that once Emmy knew, Mor would know, Elain appreciated that she could trust Emerie to keep her secret.

Elain felt Emerie’s absence keenly and Nesta and Cash began bantering back and forth at lightning speed. Emerie was a master at slowing the tempo of Nesta’s quick wit, making it easier for Elain in particular to feel she could keep up.

More selfishly, Elain also missed Emerie’s ability to keep Mor distracted. When Emmy was around, she was all Mor could focus on. However, in her absence Mor’s attention had reverted almost completely to Az, a fact he didn���t seemed to mind a single bit, if his growing smiles were any indication.

Still, he seemed to be going out of his way to make sure Elain didn’t get lost in the chaos of conversation surging around them, even if he never looked at her for more than a moment or two before his eyes flicked back to Mor, studying her dark brown eyes and crimson lips.

After they placed their drink orders and the waiter came over to begin explaining the omakase menu, Elain wondered if she had time to dodge under the table to throw on some lipstick of her own. Assuring herself everyone was suitably distracted she bent down, hastily uncapping the tube before looking up just in time to see Nesta brush a very deliberate hand between Cassian’s splayed quads.

Elain jerked back, banging her head on the table.

“Fuck!” she swore quietly, straightening and rubbing her head.

Nesta shot her an alarmed look across the table and Elain flushed.

“All you alright?” Azriel asked, and she tried not to bleat in excited panic as his fingers brushed the back of her head. “What happened?”

“I—dropped something,” she fumbled, cursing her sister for being such a salacious wench.

Wasn’t it enough that she and Cash were already going to keep her up all night? Did she really have to make Elain look silly in front of Azriel, too?

“Does it hurt?” Azriel said, still studying her head before letting his eyes go to the server. “Do you need ice?”

“No, no,” Elain said hurriedly, trying to regain her composure. “I’m fine.”

“Did you at least find whatever you were looking for?” Mor asked, and Elain’s flush deepened.

“And then some,” she grumbled to herself, and Cassian gave a quiet but unmistakable laugh before letting out a surprised exhale. Elain had a fairly good idea what Nesta was squeezing to shut him up.

“Should we order, then?” Mor asked, hand falling onto Azriel’s arm. “Any particular requests, Birthday Boy?”

“He’s thirty now,” Rhys pointed out. “I think that makes him a Birthday Man .”

“Birthday Old Man,” Cassian amended. “Don’t worry champ, I’ve already put some viagra in your bathroom.”

“You’re not supposed to share your prescriptions, Cash,” Azriel said with mirth, eyes sparkling even as his face remained neutral. “And besides, I would feel dead back if you needed one tonight and couldn’t find them.”

“Checkmate,” Mor purred as Cash flipped her off.

Beside Azriel, Elain was fighting not to blush again. Cash’s comment, however sophomoric and lewd, had her imagining what Azriel was like in bed. She wondered for a moment if Mor knew before dismissing the thought and the twinge it induced.

“Let’s put this poor souls out of his misery and order,” Feyre said, smiling at the server where he still waited patiently. “Maybe if Cash’s mouth is full, he’ll stop talking.”

Cassian grinned, and, after placing their requests for the chef’s tasting menu, they all settled into an easy conversation. Cash and Rhys regaled them with stories of Azriel at various ages, from the gawky child he’d been when they’d first met him to the shy teenager who’d been terrified of girls.

“Let him be,” Mor said, touching her friend’s shoulder. “He was sweet in high school!”

Rhys laughed.

“It took him a year to pluck up the courage to say three words to you,” he pointed out.

“And they were ‘here’s a pen’ in response to you asking him the time. Nice work, Shakespeare,” Cash said, attempting to muss Azriel’s perfectly styled hair before being batted away.

“I can’t imagine Az ever being awkward,” Elain blurted. “I bet girls thought he was mysterious and cool.“

“See?” Azriel said, gesturing to Elain. “This is why I sat over here.”

“Oh please ,” Rhys said, bubbling his lips. “Ellie’s just being polite. If you two had known each other in high school, we all know how to would’ve gone: you’d have had an obscene crush on her and your dreams of true love would have been dashed after she politely signed your yearbook ‘have a good summer, Adrian’, leaving you heartbroken and alone.”

Azriel gave Elain a soft smile, and her heart burst open as thousands of butterflies flitted out of it.

“I hate to say it, but he’s probably right,” he told her. “I assume high school Elain was very popular.”

“She was,” Feyre said. “Eight different guys asked her to prom.”

“I’m not surprised,” Az said, and Elain made a great show out of drinking out of her masu to avoid having to answer.

She was relieved when the food began arriving to distract everyone, if only to save her the temptation of telling Azriel that there was no universe in which she wouldn’t have been into him, high schoolers or no.

Instead discussion turned to the Feyre and Rhys’s wedding as they ate, and as final plates were being cleared, Cash took the opportunity to once again mocked Azriel for the fact the latter had lost the rock-paper-scissors competition to be Rhys’s best man.

“I lost on purpose,” he told Elain quietly, taking a sip of the Yamasaki Single Malt he’d ordered after dinner.

“Why?” she laughed, following his gaze across the table to where Cash and Nesta were now bickering about whether Rhys’s stag night in Vegas would be better than Feyre’s hen do in Napa.

“Because Rhys told me that you’d convinced Feyre to pick Nesta as her maid of honor, and no offense, but your sister terrifies me. I’d much rather be with you.”

She laughed, biting her lip. It felt so terribly like they were flirting, but she couldn’t decide if it was her imagination or not.

“She terrifies everyone,” Elain said. “And I have a feeling this won’t our last trip down the aisle together.”

Azriel only quirked a bemused brow at this, which had Elain flushing scarlet.

“Not like that! She laughed, fumbling to pretend the idea of them being together was absurd rather than her heart’s desire. "I meant for Cash and Nesta’s wedding. Don’t tell me those two aren’t going to end up together.”

“We’ll have to work out a custody agreement when they finally get over themselves and start dating properly,” he agreed. “I’m spending a fortune on earplugs.”

She laughed, and he seemed warmed by the gesture, because he flashed a modest—albeit dimpled—smile being turning back to the larger conversation.

After dinner they’d gone a cocktail bar, then an Irish pub, and finally—much to Azriel’s chagrin—a karaoke bar. Rhys and Cash spend the majority of the evening trying to wrestle Azriel on stage while Mor and Feyre sang duets to Beyoncé and Spice Girls.

Elain was content enough to sit back and simply observe the scene as it unfolded around her. It was hard to contain her giddy, dreadful anticipation when Mor left around one to check on Emerie and Azriel—besides bidding her farewell with a soft kiss on the cheek—didn’t move a muscle.

Less than an hour later, Cash and Nesta both disappeared about an hour after without so much as a goodbye. Elain groaned, hoping they’d be asleep by the time she got home.

She’d have to rally if she wanted to manage it; they would be at it for hours yet.

By three the place was clearing out, and besides them, only a few tables of marathon drinkers and a girl on stage performing a beautiful rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” remained.

“We’re gonna go,” Rhys said, arm slung around a rather drunk, giggling Feyre. “Ellie, do you want to come with us?”

Elain glanced at Azriel, who’s glass still had two fingers of whiskey in it. If she wanted a chance to be alone with him, this was it.

“I think I’ve got one more in me,” she said, smiling.

“If you mean drink, I’m in,” Azriel said.

“Oh c’mon, brother,” Rhys goaded. “Just one song. I wouldn’t even film it….much.”

“Do Beyoncé!” Feyre chimed in, and Azriel shook his head.

“You know I’d play in traffic before I ever sang karaoke,” Azriel said mildly, making Feyre laugh. "Thanks for coming.”

He rose, embracing Rhys and pressing a kiss on Feyre’s head.

“C’mon, my little drunkard,” Rhys told her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Let’s have sex when we get home,” Feyre said, her attempted whisper fully audible. Rhys pretended smack his forehead with his palm and a mimed, “ Oh brother ”, to Azriel and Elain before coax a still-singing Feyre outside.

Azriel chuckled before draining the last of his drink and rising. Elain pretended not to notice the way his well-tailored jeans fit his lean legs and…other parts of his anatomy as he adjusted his belt buckle and glanced down at her.

“Bud Light?” he asked, and she nodded, bobbing to her feet as well.

If she wanted a way to get closer to him that was more elegant than her increasing urge to crawl across the table and into his lap, this was certainly it.

“I’ll come with you.”

He flashed her a modest smile before indicating she lead the way. He ordered and waved off Elain’s attempt to pay before leaning on the bar to avoid towering over her. The gesture brought them nearly eye-to-eye, and Elain had to actively fight not to let hers roll back in pleasure at the bergamot and amyris wood notes in his sinful cologne. Up close Elain could see how much green he had in his hazel irises, and she wanted to tip into them and swim until she drowned.

“Did you have fun?” she said, desperate to get the conversation flowing again, and he smiled, making her stomach flop.

“I did, yeah,” he said, glancing around the bar in bemusement, as if still wondering how he’d ended up there. “Thank you for coming.”

Elain shrugged, grinning.

“You say that like you didn’t think I’d show,” she said, resting a cheek in her hand. She knew by now her expression was not her less than a swoon, though she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Hadn’t been this been her plan all along? Finally get Az’s attention long enough to tell him how she felt? Now was the best chance she’d probably ever get.

“No, I figured would,” Az said, interrupting her reverie. “Or hoped you would, whatever.”

Was that—

Did that mean what she thought it did?

Normally she would have chalked it up to wishful thinking, but the way he rubbed the back of his neck, dimples appearing as he huffed what almost sound like a sheepish laugh, had hope igniting in her chest.

“What does that mean?” she pressed, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

For the first time all night, he didn’t look away. Instead, his eyes skated back and forth across her face, as if she were a riddle he only had seconds to memorize. She watched, transfixed, as he wet his plush lower lip with his tongue before biting it almost self-consciously.

“It means I’m glad you came,” he admitted. “And that you didn’t go home with your sister and Rhys.”

It wasn’t the confirmation she’d been hoping for, and the ambiguity of the statement had her conviction waning. That could just as easily have been mean platonically, and if she pushed him and ruined things between them by making it awkward—

“Of course I’d be here for your birthday,” she said, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “That’s what friends are for.”

She couldn’t help the way her voice got stuck on the word, not when her throat suddenly began to clog with tears.

She had to get out of here, right now. Before she started crying and made things worse. She made to retract her hand but Azriel grabbed it, grip gentle but intent.

“El, don’t go,” he said, and she was surprised at the frank discontent in his normally-impassive expression.

She waited for him to explain himself before instead he let out another strained laugh, grip on her wrist easing. However, he didn’t let go entirely, choosing to intertwine their fingers instead.

Holding hands.

She and Az were holding hands.

And he—

She glanced back up to find he was studying her again, his face a mixture of terror and delight. When she gave his hand a soft squeeze, he let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Jesus, I am bad at this,” he said, reaching up to tuck a curl behind her ear. She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it, but she thought his gaze flicked down to her lips as he continued to study her with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Bad at what?” She asked, though she’d begun to suspect she knew exactly what, even if it seemed too good to be true.

“At least my timeline is improving,” he breathed instead. “And I haven’t offered you a pen you didn’t ask for yet.”

Hoping she wasn’t misreading the situation, she let her finger trail down to trace the circular buckle of his Gucci before glancing back up at him and purring, “Do you have a pen?”

He smirked before raising his right wrist and glancing at his watch face over her shoulder.

“It’s….3:17 am,” he said, smile spreading as she gave a low sound of approval and flicked her gaze to his lips.

“Smooth,” she said, and tried not to lose her mind as he let his raised hand fall to the back of her neck and bent to kiss her.

He had almost girlishly full lips, and they opened for her as they settled into the kiss. Immediately his hand tangled in her hair so he could alter her head position slightly and get a proper taste of her. She groaned into his mouth he pulled at her lower lip with his teeth. He tasted like oranges and the expensive Japanese whiskey he’d been drinking all night, and pleasure tightened in her low belly as his tongue brushed hers. Her brought his free hand up to cradle her face, and in response she pushed closer to run her hands underneath of his shirt and down the silken skin of his back.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a heated half-laugh, nose brushing her cheek as he bowed into her touch. “You’re killing me, woman.”

She only smirked, feeling more confident now that she had before. She could hardly believe this was happening, but she was too excited about it to fully care.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, and he bit his lip, as if restraining himself from kissing her again.

“Like to another bar?” he asked, dazed as he continued to stare at her lips.

“Like to my bed,” she said boldly. “Or yours, depending on where Cassian and Nesta ended up.”

He didn’t speak immediately, just studied her, and she panicked.

“I mean, only if you—I’m sorry, should I not have—?“

He only kissed her again in response, more gently this time.

“Please stop apologizing,” he said, kissing her jaw now before seeming to realize something and pulling back, brows synced.

“I—Jesus, do you seriously not know?”

She felt a bit sheepish at his incredulous tone and fought not to stiffen.

“Know what?”

He laughed softly, though their was a edge of self-deprecation in it that kept the gesture from seeming conscending.

“I really am the worst at this.”

“At what?”

“El, I’ll crazy about you. I have been crazy about you since we met.”

“You have?” she blurted, horror fading into genuine—if elated—confusion.

He laughed.

“Did you think it was coincidence that you and I are always sitting next to each other at dinner? That I always find you at Rhys’s dumb parties?”

“I—“ she began, still trying to decide if this was a dream or not. “What about Mor, though?”

“Mor?” he repeated, confused now, too. “What about her?”

“I thought you and she—“

He leaned in to brush his nose against hers, and she blushed at the innocent affection in the gesture.

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I did have a thing for her in high school, but I got over it after she and Cash slept together at prom. We’re just friends, I swear.”

“But she’s always touching you, and every time I see you together you can’t stop looking at her.”

At this he laughed, his smile so genuine and open she almost didn’t recognize him.

“She’s always been touchy-feely,” he said. “She grew up in Madrid, and people are just more affectionate there, I guess. And I only watch her when you’re around because she called me out for having an absurd crush on you, and I was afraid she was going to get drunk and blow my cover by telling you.”

Elain shook her head, still not quite believing what she was hearing. Reading her expression, he bent to kiss her softly.

“What guy wouldn’t be crazy about you?” he breathed. “You’re incredible.”

This seemed to break the spell, and she twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for another steamy kiss.

“Text Cash,” she said a little breathlessly when they broke away. “I don’t want an audience.”

She couldn’t felt but feeling smug when he almost dropped his phone at those words. It felt good to know that she wasn’t the only one affected by all this.

“Cash and Nesta are at the lof—“ Az began after a minute, but Elain cut him off with a kiss.

H rose, pulling her against him as his tongue brushed the roof of her mouth.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he said as she kissed his neck and tugged on his earlobe with her teeth, earning a low groan. “You’ve been drinking.”

She grabbed his chin so he would look at her.

“Not that much,” she said, and it was true. “And besides, I wanted this way before tonight.“

“Good,” he breathed, pressing a hand to her low back to bring her close to him. “Because so have I.”

Though they spent the majority of the ride up town and the elevator up to her apartment making out, something seemed to shift as Elain’s door clicked shut behind him, as if the gravity of what they were about to do had finally caught up to them.

Reluctantly Az peeled his lips from where they’d been glued to her neck as he took a small step back, as if to give her space.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, feeling embarrassed for how much she still wanted him even now that he seemed to have come to his senses.

“Maybe we should—” he broke off, looking somewhat guilty. “Hold off.”

She nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay again.

“Are you worried this could mess things up in the group? Because I understand—“

“No,” he said hurriedly, coming forward again, as if he could no longer stand to be away. “Not at all. I just—you’re special, El. You deserve to be taken out and spoiled.”

“Az, you just took us to a $1,800 dinner! Or did you think I didn’t see you pulling our server aside?”

Azriel opened his mouth, and she covered it with a finger.

“You don’t need to earn my affection. It’s yours already, free of charge.”

“I’ve just been—I waited so long to make my move and I’m terrified of fucking it up,” he said with a soft laugh.

“Why, are you bad at sex?”

Azriel laughed, seemed to relax at her teasing.

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he breathed again her lips, kissing her deeply again.

She gently bit his lower lip in response.

“Then I’d say you’ve gotten nothing to worry about,” she said, kissing him a third time.

She moaned softly when drove his fingers into her hair, hips canting towards her as he pressed her more fully into the door.

She could feel his body’s reaction to her pressing between her thighs, and she moaned again.

“Fuck,” he breathed onto her skin. “You are so gorgeous.”

“So are you,” she said, running her hands up the back of his t-shirt and feeling the mosaic of muscles flexing underneath. “Take this off.”

He laughed and pulled the offending garment over his head, making her groan in delight.

“God, this body ,” she breathed, running a hand down his chest and enjoying his shiver at her delicate touch.

He responded by spinning her away from him and gently dragging down the zipper of her dress until he could slip a hand inside of it.

“I knew you couldn’t have a bra on underneath this thing,” he said, voice a touch smug as he cupped both bare breasts and her breath caught in her throat..

“I’m surprised you even noticed,” she said, voice somewhat. “I wore this dress for you, and you didn’t even look at it once the entire evening.”

She laughed, the sound into a soft moan as he twisted one nipple in experimentation. When she sighed and let her head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Of course I noticed the dress,” he corrected. “You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. I just knew that if I let myself look, I might not be able to stop looking.”

“You shouldn’t say that until you’ve seen them without the sorcery of underwire,” she said.

With that he spun her to face him, catching her gaze to ensure he had her permission before tugging down the top of the dress so her breasts fell free.

“Gorgeous,” he said, easing to his knees so he could replace his fingers with his mouth. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“If I known this was going to be your reaction, I would have worn a bodycon dress in front of you ages ago,” she said, threading her hands through his hair as he dragged his teeth and tongue along her nipple.

“You don’t need some tight dress to be sexy,” he said, resting his chin her her sternum so he could gaze up at her. “I’d take you in your overalls and pigtail braids any day.”

“Is this some Pippy Longstocking fetish we should all know about?”

He grinned, rising to his feet and giving one of her curls a playful tug.

“Because as devastating as you are playing dress up in your sister’s clothes, I prefer you as you.”

“You can’t say that when I’m naked,” she said with a smile, touching his cheek.

“Why not?”

“Because I may start crying and ruin the mood.”

He cocked his head to the side, tracing her lips with a finger.

“I wouldn’t mind a few tears from you in bed. But only if it’s from you sobbing in pleasure.”

His words sent blood pooling south, the intensity cause a dull throbbing.

“Why do I feel like you could do it, too?” She asked, reaching down to free his belt as he heeled out of his boots.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, taking her hand and guiding it between his legs. “Forget this,” he said, squeezing gently so she could feel how hard he was. “I could go down on your all night and be the happiest guy on Earth.”

Emerie had said as much once, at a drunken girls’ night.

Azriel strikes me as the type of guy who loves eating girls out. It’s why gay women find him so easy to befriend; we recognize kindred spirit.

Elain vowed to never tell the others she’d been right.

“Will you let me?” He asked, gently nudging her dressing off her hips until it came free and pooled at her feet.

“Is this a trick question?” She said, voice going hoarse as he slipping a hand into her underwear.

“Some people don’t like it.”

“I’m not one of them,” she said, he smiled, coaxing her legs around his waist so he could carry her.

“Thank God,” he replayed. “That would break my heart. Which way?”

She pointed him in the right direction before giving into temptation and kissing him again, looking to way she could feel like body reacting to hers as he held her close. Only when they reached her room—which was decidedly messier than she’d have liked considering Azriel Macar was now in it—did he set her down.

He wasted no time into coaxing her onto the bed, taking only a moment to admire the silky black thong she wore before dragging into down her thighs and discarding it.

“Spread your legs for me, El,” he said, brushing kisses to her knee as she slowly did as he commanded.

The light from the nearby street lamp made the room a lot less dark than Elain was used to during sex, and for a moment she though to be embarrassed or postpone. Then she glanced down to admire the contrast of Azriel’s inky black hair framed against the pale skin of her thighs, and she forgot what it even meant to be self-conscious as he finally put him mouth on her.

She swore at the first brush of his tongue, which was both deliberate and extremely delicate. She threaded a hand through his hair at his second stroke, the touch more intentional this time.

“Azriel,” she breathed.

She watched the muscles in his beautiful back shift at this, as if hearing her moan his name had untethered something in him. When he put his mouth back on her, it was clear he was no longer attempted to tease her. Instead he felt right to where she needed him most, refusing to relent until she tipped over the edge.

Even then he didn’t seem satisfied, it and it was only after he made her come a second time did he pull back, licking his lips before bending to kiss her.

“Take your pants off,” she demanded. "Right now.”

She felt him grinning against her neck as he peeled off of her, slowly working the buttons of his pants before sliding them down his trim hips. He wore black boxer briefs underneath, and he honestly looked like an Armani model. She bit her lip, eying the sizable swell of him through the cotton.

“Those too,” she breathed, greedily drinking in his well-defined adonis belt and the bare trace of hair above the band.

He did as she commanded, and she nearly melted. Naked he was a God, all rippling muscles and smooth unblemished skin, save for the chest piece tattoo that extended onto his shoulders and halfway down his arms. She let her eyes sink lower. Even half-hard he was big, and her belly clenched.

Wasting no time, she urged him to take her place on the bed before kneeling at his feet and putting her mouth on it.

“Shit,” he hissed, driving a hand into his hand then down his face. “Ellie, you’re kiling me.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, and he growled in approval, seeming to decide something before breaking her grip on him and hauling her to her feet. He kissed her again, and she could feel his cock as it practically pulsed between them.

She still wasn’t sure she could believe it was for her, that somehow he wanted her as much as she did him, and had for almost as long.

“Condoms,” he breathed against her mouth. “I need to be inside of you.”

She froze.

“I don’t have any,” she said, dismayed.

How could she be so stupid? Why didn’t they stop on the way home? The closest bodega was six blocks, and she knew everyone who worked there. The last thing she needed was all of them knowing—

Azriel pressed a swift kiss to her lips before tangling from her.

“Where are you going?”

“To grab a condom.”

“Naked?

He flashed her a slight grimace, “Let’s agree you won’t ask where I get it from.”

“Oh Moses,” Elain said, face flushing scarlet as she listened to Nesta’s door creaking open.

Azriel was back in less than a minute, tossing an entire box onto the nightstand as he pulled open one of the foils with his teeth, using his free hand to push his damp hair, long enough to brush his cheekbones now that it wasn’t styled, out of his eyes.

“You found those distressingly fast,” Elain said, unsure if she was amused or mortified at the situation.

“Cash is predictable with his hiding spots,” Az said, eyes hooded as he stroked himself several times before rolling the condom onto his length.

“And why did you take the whole box?”

Azriel laughed softly.

“Because I have a feeling we’re going to need them.”

Without another word Az sank to his knees again, one hand lazily stroking himself to maintain his erection as he went down on her again.

This time it only last three seconds or so before he pulled back, resting one knee beside her hip to steady himself before pulling her onto his shaft in a single wet stroke. Using her left bent leg as leverage, he adjusted his angle, smirking at her low, guttural moan of pleasure.

“Good to know your g-spot is as sensitive as the rest of you,” he breathed, and she laughed and tugged him into an ambitious rhythm.

Soon the only sound was their shared breathing, and the sliding on their bodies against one another. She came first, and he followed even before the dizzying waves of pleasure ceased. He pumped lazily in and out of her for another half dozen stroke before gently extracting from her and peeling off the condom.

She curled against him, cheek pressed to chest as her hands continued to explore. Her fingers caressed his swelling pectorals and each of his abdominal muscles before lazily venturing back between his legs. He gave a hiss of pleasure as she began to work his silken shaft in earnest, and in minutes he was fully ready again.

He groaned when she snatched one of the condoms and rolled it onto him before swinging a leg over and sinking astride him.

Her third orgasm hit her only a short time later, and she sighed when he bucked up into her before going languid under her ministrations.

She leaned down to kiss him as he ran a soothing hand down her back.

“Jesus,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers and swirling his hips, still inside her despite his orgasm. “That was incredible.”

She purred her contentment, feeling something even more alluring than desire swell in her chest as he discarded the second condom and tugged her into his arms, tangling their legs. He still smelled like cologne, but it had mixed with her perfume, and sweat, and the scent was intoxicating. She wanted to bath in it—in him—until she died from bliss. She listened to his breathing even out, and as she was drifting off to bed, he felt his breath ruffle her hair.

“Do you like pancakes?” he murmured. “I want to make you breakfast in the morning.”

“Really?” she said, looking at him over a shoulder and melting at the warmth in his smile, less guarded now than it had been even hours before.

“I want to make breakfast for you every morning,” he breathed. “I have since I met you.”

She smiled, nestling closer to him.

“I’d love that, but I should probably be the one making you breakfast. It is your birthday, after all. You have to let me give you something other than a bj and a few orgasms for your birthday, even if it is your dirty 30.”

Az choked on a laugh.

“Say you‘ll dinner with me, then. No family or nosy friends around, just us.”

“I think the word you’re looking for it ‘date’,” she said, laughing as his cheeks flushed before realizing something. “Or is the idea just too formal for the situation? I know we did things a bit backwards...”

“We did,” he agreed, stroking her cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I want to spoil you any less. So yes a date, if you’ll still have me.”

“I will,” she said, meeting his hazel eyes before gently kissing him. “With pleasure.”

He smiled against her mouth.

“Then that’s the only birthday gift I want or need from you.”

She smiled, feeling happy to the point of bursting when he kissed her ear and closed his eyes again.

"Happy Birthday, Az.”

His hum of contentment vibrated through her back.

“The happiest,” he breathed.

[youllallriseintheink]

Joey Drew Switcharoo, chapter 2

Hey, everyone. I decided to make a little story (somewhat loosely) based on the “Joey Drew Switcharoo” AU, which the Sammy server came up with a while ago. It’s using my own versions of the characters. I hope you guys enjoy it. 

---

“Alright,” Sammy began, exasperated. “we need to show Joey that what he’s doing isn’t okay. Any ideas, you two?” he asked to Buddy and Wally.

Buddy spoke up. “Well... I have an idea.”

“Good,” Sammy said. With that, Buddy dipped his hand into the cauldron, and his turn manipulating Joey’s dream began.

---

Joey woke up, face-down on an art department desk. He looked down at himself and saw freckled skin, long, skinny arms and big, bony hands. No dead giveaways, but given that he was in the art department, it was most likely that he was Buddy Lewek.

“Joey?” Abby’s voice called to him. “Take this down to the main office, please.” She handed him some paperwork.

Joey made his way down to administration, trying to grapple with the consequences of Buddy knowing magic. It wasn’t such a bad thing, he supposed. Buddy didn’t seem to be torturing him, and maybe now they could do a bit of innocent magic together, so long as he didn’t question what he’d just seen of Susie’s fate.

It was while Joey was passing by the infirmary when it happened: the ink demon burst out of the the infirmary and tackled him to the ground. It sniffed Joey’s face before taking off. Joey followed it at a run. If Buddy knew about the ink demon, he needed to know what he thought of it.

Screams filled the air. The ink demon had a woman in its grasp. Its teeth peeled back like a garage door opening, and Bendy swallowed her whole, pausing occasionally to crunch down on her, coating its teeth with red.

Joey ran away. In the halls, he passed an old man who was scrubbing ink from his arm. As he continued to run, he passed by the same old man, ink having turned his whole arm a glossy black and shooting black tendrils onto his chest. He passed him a third time and saw that the ink had overtaken his entire left side and had left him in agony.

Joey locked himself into a storage closet and slumped against the wall. Joey knew about ink infection, of course. And he didn’t fear the demon’s escape- he knew it would never happen. Still, this little refresher course on the possibilities and realities of his doings made his heart race and his hands tremble.

Buddy knows about the ink demon. Should I be worried? He probably needs the money too much to tell anyone, right? But how does he know about ink infection?

The door opened, and Joey, or rather, Buddy in his body, was standing in it.

“Joey? What are you doing in here? Get back to work.”

Joey stood up. “Sure thing, Mr. Lewek,” he said. It was so strange having to work when everything was going wrong and the person responsible wouldn’t even acknowledge it.

The rest of the hour was uneventful- just deliveries. He made sure to keep tabs on Buddy’s whereabouts, but Buddy barely left his office.

---

“Sorry I couldn’t make it last an hour,” Buddy said.

“No, that was good. I don’t think he takes the threat of the demon’s escape seriously enough,” Sammy reassured.

“Um... There’s a demon made of ink in the studio?” Grant inquired, looking at the others as though they’d lost their minds.

“Yep, get with the program,” Sammy replied. “Wally, it’s your turn.” Sammy’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t screw this up.”

---

Joey woke up slumped over in the janitor’s closet, mop in hand. He reached up, felt Wally’s baseball cap, and immediately knew who he was. The thought of Wally’s loud mouth spreading around everything he’d learned tonight was a scary one, but otherwise, this could be worse.

Upon exiting the closet, Joey was met with Wally, in Joey’s body, a smug smile on his face.

“Hey. A pipe burst, and you have t’mop it up. Follow me.”

Joey filled up a mop bucket and followed without a word to a corridor lined with broken ink pipes. Joey had begun to mop up the thick ink when a blob of it started moving.

“Make sure you get that,” Wally said before turning to leave.

Frustrated, Joey chased the ink blob down the corridor, dragging the mop bucket along with him. Eventually, he got to a forced turn, and slammed right into Thomas Connor.

“About time you got over here. We have eleven units of pipe to replace, and you’re going to do it, ‘cause frankly, it hurts my soul what we’re doing and if ah keep going much longer, I’m gonna punch a goddamn hole in the wall!”

Something in that phrasing and even the voice bothered Joey- that wasn’t how Tom spoke. Perhaps Wally wasn’t the best at recreating the speaking styles of others. At any rate, he didn’t need to stick around for the the guilt trip. “Sorry, Tommy, but I’m on orders from the boss to mop up all this ink first. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He caught Thomas muttering something about a guilty conscience as he left.

With that, Joey continued on. As Joey chased the blob of ink, he ran into several other people, ranging from workers lamenting stained clothes and long hours to people crying over their positions being cut during downsizing. Everyone was either angry or hurt. The words, I gotta get out of here, appeared on the wall.

Finally, Joey got to Sammy’s office. Through the glass window, Joey saw Sammy talking with a violinist when the pipe burst. In seeming panic, he shoved the woman out of the way of the spraying ink, practically picking her up to get her out the door. Joey caught the words, “not safe in there,” before Sammy turned his attention to Joey. “Clean that up,” Sammy said curtly before moving his meeting elsewhere.

The ink pipe was still gushing, droplets of it hitting Joey’s face. The words, Am I disposable to them? Appeared on the wall. Joey put his mop in the bucket, wrung it out, and got cleaning.

---

Wally emerged.

“That was surprisingly good,” Sammy admitted before turning his attention to the cauldron. “Alright. I think we can convince him if I keep up the steam. Time for the finale.”

With that, he plunged in his hand.

---

Joey woke up, this time on what was unmistakably Sammy’s desk, with what was unmistakably Sammy’s hair flowing over his shoulders. He felt terrible. His head was aching. He was trembling despite not being cold. His face felt dirty, and he wiped it off, coming away with a hand stained with... ink. Ink that looked quite delicious. Unthinkingly, he licked it off like cake batter.

And then a feral urge overtook him. His desk was covered in ink bottles, some full, some empty, and his hands found one full vial after another until he’d drank four of them.

Ink infection. This’ll be a long hour.

Joey stood up groggily, his head pounding. A voice emanated from the pipe in the office wall. “You have not done your daily prayer,” it said, clear as if it had come from a person. It sounded only the slightest bit angry, but terribly convincing.

Joey stepped out of his office and found himself gravitating towards a Sammy’s sanctuary, as though in a dream. And then, the scene was dissembled and recreated.

Joey was in a torn-up version of his own normally-spotless apartment. Numerous empty wine bottles had been left on the floor, reminding Joey of the nights where he’d gotten drunk and lost control of himself in front of Sammy. A picture frame that he’d broken during a fight and since removed was hanging from the wall. There was the sound of a door opening, and a shadowy creature stepped through.

He’s being oblique about our relationship. Thank heavens. An hour or less with a nightmare creature was far, far preferable being outed.

The shadowy creature stepped towards Joey, and Joey fled to their bedroom, which could lock from the inside. Then, the scene was reassembled again.

He was in his own office. Joey- or rather, Sammy in his body- stepped in.

“Hello, there. I know you don’t want me to cure these symptoms, what with the Bendy thing and all, but I’d like to track this. Scientifically, you know. Let’s head down to the infirmary, shall we?”

Joey went down to the infirmary, where Doctor Hackenbush ran various tests on him, from taking his blood to testing his reflexes. In the pipe-filled infirmary, the voices were very loud, telling him to submit himself to Bendy and that all this was a part of a grand plan. It was louder than Hackenbush’s voice, which told him that his body was falling apart.

---

The fantasy finally ended, and Sammy came out of his trance.

“That’s it,” Allison explained. “The spell will die on its own if it isn’t touched for half an hour, and when it does, Joey will wake up.”

“What was that scene with the shadowy stuff in the middle?” Wally asked.

“Just some symbolism that what he’s doing this as a result of trauma. I don’t blame you for not understanding, but an artist like Joey will,” Sammy lied. Thankfully, Wally seemed to believe it.

Susie cut in. “Do you think this’ll convince him?”

“I don’t know. We’ll just have to hope.”

---

Joey finally woke up, this time on his own living room floor, and rushed to the bathroom to look in the mirror. He’d never been so happy to see his own face. He was going to need several old fashioneds to process what had just happened.

Once he was properly buzzed, Joey got to thinking. Everyone now knew everything that had been revealed, or could at least guess at it. Grant Cohen knew that the ink demon could escape and harm others at a moment’s notice. Joey’s precious little go-fer knew about the suffering of sentient ink creatures. Wally knew about ink infection.

Maybe I should provide him some masks for cleaning especially inky areas. It would be easy to do, and if that’s all it takes to make him feel like I care about his safety...

But not all his problems were that easily solved. They all knew about Susie. They’d all seen her pain. Even if she wasn’t there with them, out of her cage... what would they do now? Who might they tell?

Joey was left with a crushing sense of dread. It made him want to undo everything just to escape it. He already had protocols as to how to dispose of the machine and the creatures that came from it, should that become necessary. There was nothing to do but hope that didn’t happen, make little changes where he could, and stay alert for any sign of threat.