#note to self to use a bigger canvas next time

[stervrucht]

I dusted off the ol' wacom.

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "Sky's Canvas"

This little future Swan-Jones-Mills family fic envisioning them during their happy beginning post-s6 would probably have been well suited to Father's Day last week, but I didn't think of it until too late. I hope it will still be enjoyable this week too. It's a part of my one shot collection on AO3 or ff.net (if you'd prefer to read it either of those places instead) I hope you have fun picturing this alternate idea of what might have happened - and I'd love to hear what you think!

Notes: I toyed with the idea for this one for quite some time. The prompt elements that I have used are: a museum, the phrase “it was just a joke”, and also some small art facts – mostly about the particular museum itself (which is real). I have also put in a CS daughter (my personal head canon imagined one, Morgan Ruth Jones, whom I have written about before), and a college aged Henry. So, this is set somewhere in an alternative post-season 6 reality, where Henry stays in the Land Without Magic to seek his story, and also to be close enough to visit his family often, and for them to return the favor…)

by: @snowbellewells

The bubbly, nonstop chatter of her four-year-old little girl, which has cheerfully been filling Emma Swan’s ears for the past hour and a half, suddenly stills, immediately grabbing her attention and setting off an interior maternal alarm. She turns to seek out Morgan Ruth Jones – her little pirate princess – wondering if her daughter has yet again managed to sneak away from them and find herself in some sort of trouble.

Luckily, Emma doesn’t have to look far before she hears a chortling trill of baby laughter and locates her toddler with the disheveled head of dark, ringlet curls and twinkling, mischievous eyes – an aquamarine mix of her own green gaze and her father’s ocean blue – standing before a huge oil painting of a Spanish galleon rocking precariously on the stormy main and looking up at her father with fixed adoration. “Really, Papa?” Emma hears Morgan chirp, practically bouncing on the balls of her little feet as she tugs anxiously at his hook in eagerness to hear his answer. “Was it a storm that big you sailed ‘Roger’ through when you went to save Henwy in Neverland?!”

Emma is just chuckling wryly at the changes which have transpired in her life to give her a little girl more interested in daring adventures, ancient naval ships, and sword fighting than frilly dresses or dolls and makeup, even as her husband raises his eyes just enough to smirk at her knowingly over Morgan’s head, when another voice, youthful, warm, and settling into its masculine, adult timbre, answers Morgan’s question from over her shoulder, announcing Henry’s arrival to join them. “It was bigger, Pipsqueak,” he confirms jovially, pausing briefly to wrap a wiry arm around his mom in a quick side-hug before continuing to the side of his younger half-sister, kneeling to her level and adding with a gleam in his eye, “A mermaid summoned it to drown them all.”

“Hen-wy!!” Morgan squeals with glee; the painting, and even her papa’s beloved ship, forgotten as she flings herself into her brother’s arms with enough force to nearly bowl him over, causing Henry to chuckle as he catches her close to his chest.

“Hey Munchkin,” he greets affectionately, standing to his full height again – now even with his stepdad’s – still holding Morgan, her arms wrapped around his neck so tightly that Emma has to wonder if she’s ever going to let go. Turning to include his mom and his surrogate father in his next statement, Henry adds. “It’s great to see you all. Things must be quiet in Storybrooke, if you’re still going to stay all weekend.”

Here he arcs an eyebrow in curious bemusement, a trait Emma realizes all too well that he has picked up from her dashing scoundrel of a husband and probably uses to equally charming effect on all the girls he meets in his freshman courses at Bowdoin College. It is clear he has settled easily into the small arts school in Brunswick, Maine, just under a two hours’ drive from them, and that the campus atmosphere and freeing anonymity and normalcy he has there must be agreeing with him. Emma wants to snort in disbelieving laughter at his jest, though well aware that he knows better than to ever think his hometown would go completely, boringly normal. Instead, she shakes her head resignedly, merely giving her grown son a playfully long-suffering sigh. “You know how it is,” she shrugs, “never a dull moment. But – if you don’t count the dwarves coming to blows at Granny’s the other morning because Tom Clark accidentally sat in Leroy’s spot at the counter and got his flu germs on Leroy’s plate of bacon and eggs…”

“Which I do count,” Killian interrupts smoothly, winking at his adopted son. “I am the one who risked infection from the virus in forestalling their skirmish.”

Emma rolls her eyes at her deputy husband’s interruption and mutters “drama queen” under her breath, which Henry and Morgan both clearly hear and snicker at before she continues, “Otherwise it’s been as quiet as it ever gets. No deathly dangerous villains or curses meant to tear us apart and wipe our memories blank.”

“Yet…” Killian adds on needlessly, an ominous tone in his voice acknowledging the fact that they all know it’s only a matter of time before some new threat is wreaking havoc again. Their sleepy little town might seem like a place lost in time and space, but it is still a veritable magnet for trouble, and none of them can deny it.

Killian, however, waggles his brows playfully after his foreboding aside, making Henry shake his own head at his stepfather. It had seemed a rather grim pronouncement for the reformed pirate – more like his mom, really.

Morgan grins widely back at her father, nodding in gleeful agreement, her gap-toothed smile showing where she has lost a fair few of her baby teeth recently. “Yeah…yet!” she exclaims, not fully understanding the concern behind the sentiment, but always ready – as is her entire extended family – for action and excitement.

Emma shakes her head in humored exasperation at her two “children” – wondering, as she often does, how someone who has seen and experienced as much as Killian, who has witnessed some of the worst humanity had to offer and suffered at their hands, who has lived so long and weathered such crushing heartbreak and hate, can still easily find such simple, child-like joy in the littlest things. “Really, guys?” she questions, looking to her college student son for more mature support. “Can’t we just enjoy things being normal for once?”

“Aye, of course, my Love,” Killian replies deftly. “ ‘Twas merely a joke,” he adds, leaning over to brush a quick kiss to her brow that makes Morgan giggle, hide her face in Henry’s shoulder, and cry out, “Eww, they’re kissing again!” in a frank, tickling whisper against her older sibling’s skin.

“Just a joke is right,” Henry declares, motioning them forward to venture on into the rest of the Bowdoin College Museum and toward the particular exhibit he wants them to see. The collection was an 1811 bequest from a wealthy benefactor to the school and was one of the earliest college art collections in the country, as Henry had enthusiastically told her over the phone some weeks ago when his project had commenced. His Maritime History class had done a cross-curriculum partnership with the arts department to put together a student exhibit of research and mixed media in the college’s museum, and Henry has been quite secretive about his entry, even if insistent that they needed to see it in person. “Like anyone could be around you lot for long and think you were normal!” he scoffs.

“Ha ha,” his mother laughs drolly, bumping into his side with her shoulder in playful retribution as they move ahead side-by-side, with Killian, who is now holding a wriggling Morgan once again, following closely behind. However, once the jostling ceases, Emma grasps her nearly-grown son’s hand in hers for a moment, stunned anew at how much he has changed from the little boy who had found her in Boston all those years ago, and led her into the very life she has now. Squeezing tightly with emotion welling up in her throat, she wishes he could truly understand how much she loves him.

“Missed you too, Mom,” Henry murmurs softly, pressing her fingers back with his own wrapped around them. It is more than enough and makes her heart flutter in gladness.

Once Henry leads them through a few different rooms and several intriguing displays, he slows when they reach a large, somewhat circular room with a high, arched ceiling, and then turns to them with a mysterious smile on his face and clear anticipation in his big, brown eyes, just as they have always held, even at ten years old.

At first glance, this particular exhibit, this room in itself, seems empty. Looking around with faces equally full of curiosity and confusion, Killian, Emma, and Morgan end up staring back at Henry expectantly until Killian finally speaks up, “Begging your pardon, Lad, but I’m afraid I am not quite certain what you wish for us to see.”

Henry gives a nod of acknowledgement, rather knowingly pleased, and making Emma smirk to herself with a mother’s satisfaction at seeing her son so confidently happy and in his element. ‘He’s definitely got something up his sleeve,’ she thinks affectionately, admittedly finding herself anxious to see what his surprise might be. She knows that Henry has been loving this course all term – not to mention how thrilled her husband had been at the news – and that the long term practicum research projects are being showcased here throughout the entire month of April. Emma can only conclude that her son’s hard work has paid off in a way he’s proud of, and he must believe wholeheartedly that they will be too.

All Henry says is, “I take it you’re ready then?” and at Killian’s nod and Morgan’s “Yes, yes, YES, Henwy!!” exclamation, while she hops up and down exuberantly, he switches off the lights and presses a previously unnoticed button next to the light switch.

Immediately, the light and airy sound of some sort of flute or piccolo trickles through the quiet air of the room, a gently evocative melody with a lingering, haunted quality to its tone, enhanced by the sound echoing beneath of waves washing gently against the hull of some easily floating ship or back and forth over the shore of some deserted bay. Even as the sounds which are familiar and comforting to his tiny family audience wrap around them, small pinpricks of light appear just like stars in the night sky out on the ocean, sparking to life on the walls around them and the high ceiling overhead. It is a constellation spread out just for them in breathtaking majesty. Then, the Author begins to narrate his newest story…

Listening to Henry’s words, Emma feels her breath catch just a bit in both awe and emotion, glancing quickly over at her husband and daughter, before either of them realizes they are being observed. Morgan’s green eyes are wide and sparkling with interest and excitement, her mouth an open “o” as she looks above her, dazzled at what would appear for all the world to be the stars and constellations in the night sky brought indoors and spread out for their entertainment. Killian is silent and still, so much so that Emma knows – as few others would – just how valiantly he is battling some strong emotion…how very touched he is. Emma was never as great a student of the star charts and navigational astronomy as her sailor would have loved to make her, but Henry ate it right up, and she would bet her battered and beloved old VW that Henry has recreated some particular display that holds an extra meaning for he and his stepdad alone.

Shaking herself slightly to bring her focus back to earth and her attention back to the words of Henry’s presentation once more, she hears her son’s voice – soothing, engaging, and reeling her into the adventurous stories behind the scattered specks of light arrayed above them and their meaning and guidance to generations of sailors making their ways on a wide and pathless sea.

“The Cygnus,” Killian mouths silently beside her, appearing genuinely awestruck as he takes his gaze just momentarily from Henry’s representative “sky” to look in the eyes of the young man he has for years now cared for and loved like a son; a sincere gaze of fond understanding passing between them that brings a film of unshed tears to Emma’s vision that she has to rapidly blink away. In fact, soundless though it may be, she catches Killian’s comment only because she is so focused on her husband and his emotional reaction to this gift Henry has given all of them – but her pirate in particular. Emma senses that Killian knows it in this moment and holds tightly to his fingers twined with hers while practically beaming at her son, wondering again how she ever got lucky enough that the two most important people in her world would love each other as much as they each love her.

Morgan reaches over from Killian’s arms to pat her mother’s cheeks as Henry concludes his tale and turns the lights back up. “Don’t cry, Mama,” Morgan coos sweetly. “Henwy’s story was happy in the end. The Swan leads the sailor to his home.”

Emma smiles shakily at her daughter, and then the rest of her family with their looks of understanding. “I know, Baby,” Emma murmurs softly, still brushing away the evidence, but with her smile growing broader all the while. “Don’t worry. These are happy tears.”

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jrob64 @apiratewhopines

@whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @stahlop @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @winterbaby89

@spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic

@xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv @anmylica @jonesfandomfanatic @motherkatereloyshipper @branlovestowrite

@linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @let-it-raines @ineffablecolors

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

IT’S ARTISTIC VISION, PUMPKIN- S.G ROGERS

Pairing: Roommate! BestFriend! Steve x Female! Artist! Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: “dipping his finger in the paint once more, he drew an arrow down your stomach, pointing down to the place you needed him most. you were dripping at his point, your arousal seeping down your thighs steve had pushed open as he stood between them. your eyes widened as he smirked down at you. “ it’s artistic vision, pumpkin.”

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT!!, swearing, teasing, sexual tension, pet names (pumpkin, little girl, honey etc), daddy kink, spanking, oral ( female receiving), male masturbation ( w/ readers panties mentioned), brief mention of sub space, swearing, degradation kink, face ridning, breeding kink if you squint, john walker is mentioned ( he needs his own warning),  praise kink... buckle in tight petals...

Note: ok so this was supposed to be sweet, fluffy sex. idk what happened, but this is pure filth, and sooo self indulgent. i blame steve rogers for being so sexy. it is his fault. also steve has tats in this because the idea of that man with tattoos leaves me weak in the knees. ( steve pls call me)

“Marcy do you have the red acrylic?” Crouched down by the paint drawer, you dug around attempting to find the perfect shade of crimson to touch up the current painting you were working on.

 Silence. 

Rustling around a bit more, you soon discovered the shade you were looking for. “ Forget it Marcy I got it!” you shouted, standing up and stretching your back, twisting around to attempt to soothe the dull ache in your bones.

 “ I swear they hide em-” you mumbled, poking your head up to spot her out. 

Oh. OH.

 “ You definitely are not Marcy.”

 The tall honey blonde man towered over you as he leaned against the door frame, his figure bulk and broad. His biceps bulged as he ran a finger through the golden strands, and your gaze immediately slithered over to the swirl of blank ink that was dotted across it. 

“ That I am not.” he chuckled, his voice deep and smooth. 

Dimples appeared across his cheeks as he smiled softly, his ocean blue eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. It was at this moment you remembered the very blatant paint splatter that had dried across your cheek, and the fact you were standing in the middle of the art room swooning over your best friend instead of actually replying to him. 

Idiot! your mind screamed and you willed yourself to snap out of the haze you were in.

 “ Hello Stevie.” you murmured gently, matching the smile that adorned his face. 

“Hiya pumpkin.”

 You felt your cheeks heat at the name, your core beginning to tingle as he walked towards your canvas. He had called you that since the start of the semester, and yet it still made you feel like a girl with a crush in middle school every single time.

“ You don't seem like the artist type Stevie, you need something?” you asked, beginning to swirl the used brushes in water and collect the bottles of paint you had messily scattered everywhere. “ Just missed my best girl.” he sighed, walking over to jump up and sit on the counter next to you. With a roll of your eyes, he smiled even bigger, knowing he was getting under your skin. 

“ You saw me two hours ago. Plus, aren’t the guys at the apartment?” 

“ Two hours is long. Too long. And yes, but I wanted to come get you.” You flicked his nose gently and laughed. “ You’re lucky you’re cute Stevie.” you sighed, making your way over to the sink to finish cleaning.

 “Oh! I forgot to ask, how are things with Peggy lately?” 

Dumping the brushes in the sink, you allowed the water to get to the perfect temperature. A faint grumble left Steve’s lips, and you turned around to face him, confused. Peggy was Steve’s girlfriend. Well not girlfriend foresay, they hadn’t made it official. A few dates had happened, and you spotted her around the apartment a few times. Steve never really talked about her much, and as much as you didn't want them to become a thing, you knew it was polite to ask. 

“What’s with the long face?” you questioned, eyebrow cocked. Shrugging, he made his way over to you. 

He overshadowed you, so much so you found yourself stumbling back to grasp the sink for support. Steve was so much taller than you, and you couldn’t help but let the thoughts run, how easily he could manhandle you, throw you around. 

Best friends aren’t supposed to think that way.

 But how could you not with him so close, mere inches away from you? Your breathing became ragged at the close proximity between him and you, and you gulped as you looked up to meet his grin. The cold metal bit into your palms as you gripped it tighter, Steve’s hand snaking up to cup your cheek. His thumb stroked it delicately, as if you were a piece of glass china.

 “Because I want someone else.” he whispered, a shutter racking your body as he smirked. 

He had you right where he wanted you. In his hands, you became putty. Moldable and soft. You knew it. And he did too. 

His gaze was soft, yearning and you wanted nothing more than to get lost in his baby blues. But you couldn’t. “ Finish up and meet me outside pumpkin.” He backed up slowly as if he were trying to shake the same daze you were in. With a smile, he turned and strutted to the entrance of the studio, slinging the leather jacket he brought across his shoulder as the door shut with a thud.

 Letting out a shaky breath, you urged yourself to continue cleaning up, noticing the sky was growing dark. What the fuck had just happened? You adored Steve. Would do anything he asked of you. As much as it went against every code in the book, a crush had bloomed for him and it had only grown since the day you met him in your first year.

 You never thought he could ever feel the same as you… but that shit he just pulled a minute ago? You suddenly didn’t know anymore. 

Shaking your head in confusion, as if you were trying to unwrap the puzzle that was lodged in your mind, you began to finish putting things away. Every move was mechanical, as your head was too occupied with the past events that had unfolded. You heard the back door to the studio open, and close firmly. Marcy had left for the night, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

 Remembering the man was waiting outside, you swiftly grabbed your coat and flipped the lights, emitting the room in darkness. Opening the door, you were met with Steve on his phone, a grin plastered on his face.

 “ Yeah, she’s here now Buck. We’re coming back. Calm down.” 

You locked the door and scurried over to Steve as he slipped the phone in his pocket, reaching out his hand for you to take. 

You took it.

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The door opened with a creak, and you snapped your head up in alarm. Paintbrush in hand, you held it like a dagger, poised, ready to strike at the intruder. 

No one should be in at this hour.

 Mrs. Demerze said after-hours was only for you and Marcy, and because Marcy was currently getting ready to go clubbing, you knew it wasn’t her. Unless someone was currently attempting to sneak in and steal dirty paint rags and old oil paints, there was only one person it could be.

 “ You're goin stab someone’s eyes out with that thing if you keep holding it like that.” 

Steve. 

“ Fuck. Off.” you hissed through clenched teeth, his laughter emerging from the shadows.

 “ Cmon pumpkin, you know I like scaring you.” he chuckled, strutting over to you with that cocky smile plastered across his face. You wanted to rip it off at the moment, still fuming from the near heart attack he gave you. 

“ Well I don't.” you whined, whipping him lightly across the stomach with your paint-stained towel. “ You're so adorable.” he hummed, wrapping his inked arms around your waist, pulling you against his chest tightly, and began to sway you gently side to side. 

“ Come. Home” he murmured between kisses placed on the top of your head and you whined. “ I gotta get this done.” you sighed, snuggling deeper into his soft embrace. 

“ It can wait till tomorrow pumpkin. You've worked so hard, it looks amazing.” You smiled, peering up at him to see he was admiring your half-finished piece. 

“ You really think so?”

 “ I know so. But I also know that Sam is currently at the apartment with pizza and beer, missing our loving, warm presence.” he mumbled into your hair, his hands slipping under the loose t-shirt you often wore to classes, its material stained with bright blues and pinks.

 His touch was soft and gentle, his fingers slowly tracing patterns across your lower tummy. Your breath hitched, the contact making your nipples pebble against the fabric, goosebumps spreading across your skin.

 Of course, today of all days, you had decided to ditch the bra when everyone packed up their things and went home for the night. You often left it on when Marcy was here, or Steve was getting you- but you were caught by surprise.

 “Meet me outside?” You nodded, his grip releasing from your body slowly. 

Don't turn around, don't turn around don’t turn around dontturnarou- 

“Hey pumpkin?” he called from the door, forcing you to turn around and face him. 

Fuck me.

His eyes narrowed slightly, a small smirk forming across his face as he eyed your figure. Fuckkk me.

“ Bring a jacket. It’s chilly out.”

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Slam!

“ Did you guys fuck or something? What took so long?” Sam huffed from the couch, cold beer in hand, his feet resting on the coffee table as football played from the tv. 

I fuckin wish! your thoughts screamed, Steve just letting out a chuckle with the shake of his head.

 “ Someone just HAD to clean every single little bristle on each tiny little brush.” he drawled, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the recliner and heading straight or the opened pizza box. 

The warm lighting made his hair look like caramel… It looks so soft and fluffy.. I could easily paint him as an angel. 

“ Hey sweet cheeks.”

 “How’s my favorite person?” you asked playfully, setting your purse on the counter and opening the fridge to grab a beer. “ Hey!” Steve groaned, mouth already stuffed with cheesy goodness. 

“ I told ya man the chicks dig the fit!” 

You laughed, cracking open the bottle and joining Sam on the couch. You had no idea how football worked, all you knew is that when players got tackled, the guys would cheer and chug back drinks. Steve prowled over to the couch, leaning over the back to hand you a slice of pizza, which you happily accepted. “ I don't know how any of this works.” you mumbled, taking a bite of food as you leaned against Sam’s shoulder. 

“Oh trust me pumpkin, we know.” Steve laughed, ruffling up your hair. “ So mean!” you growled, watching the players run across the field, the tv volume turned lower for you, as Sam knew the loud yelling bothered you. 

The three of you chatted mindlessly, mainly about how everyone’s day was, and John, the most annoying person on planet earth who just so happened to sit beside Sam during his psychology lecture. “ If he talks to me one more time in the middle of a lecture I’m going to grab that stupid ass pen he always clicks and shove it down his throat.” he growled, causing you to bark out a laugh, which you quickly smacked your hand across your mouth. “ That's mean you’re not supposed to laugh at that!” Sam laughed, causing you to roll your eyes.  “ Then why’d you say it?!” you yelled, smacking his arm with a pillow 

“ You two bicker like five year olds. I’m takin a shower. If anyone wants to join me, the door is wide open.” Steve stood up and winked, causing your cheeks to heat as he walked to his room and shut the door softly. 

“ Y/N that man is in love with you.” You almost choked on your beer, eyes going wide at his remark. “ What makes you think that?” you whispered yelled, turning around to fully face the smirk on his face. The water started to run from Steve’s shower, and you heard the rustling of him taking off his clothes.

 “ Because I know him. I have way too long. He’s never looked at anyone like he does with you.” 

“But Peggy!” you wailed, setting down your beer on the walnut coffee table so you could turn around and face him fully. “ He stopped seeing her a few weeks ago. Said he had his heart on someone else. Didn't push him.” he smiled, swigging back the alcohol as you smacked his arm playfully. 

“ That someone is not me!” you nearly yelled, praying to god Steve didn’t hear the conversation the two of you were currently having. 

Could it be you? God, you hoped so. “ Are you fucking kidding me Y/L/N?! Stop sitting criss-cross applesauce with those doe eyes and hop in the shower with the hunk.” 

The Ravens scored. You didn't notice. You didn’t care. 

“ You know I can’t do that!” Rolling your eyes, you tossed your head back in defeat, grabbing a pillow and gripping it across your chest tightly.

 “ Your loss sweets. Yourrr loss.”

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You didn't know what was happening behind closed doors. And Steve was thankful for it. 

He couldn’t get the sight of you tonight in the studio out of his mind. It played on a constant loop, the way you turned to face him.

 Eyes wide, the dim light from the table lamp making your skin glow softly, your hair slightly ruffed from the friction against his chest. 

And your boobs. 

God, they were perfect. He knew he shouldn’t have looked. He knew it was wrong to be looking at his best friend that way. But the way you had responded to his slight touch, the way your tits were strained against the tight white fabric, aching to be held, nipples that had pebbled under his whisperers of a touch.

 Steve knew he shouldn’t have looked, and he shouldn’t be doing what he was doing now. But the way you looked tonight, the way you looked every night, he just couldn’t help himself.

 Your little giggles and flirtatious glances drove him wild, the pillow he was using to cover his boner only worked for so long. He needed release. And damn him for doing it with you so close, so near. 

Normally he’d touch himself to the thought of you when you were away, in the studio, or out with other friends. Steve would sneak to your room, rummage through your pantie drawer, and pulled whatever called out to him. Breathing in your scent, he’d jerk off with your panties in hand, making a mess all over them. 

I keep losing my thongs! You’d joke, and he'd laugh with a roll of his eyes, complaining that you had old man eyes. 

It was downright sinful. 

But Steve didn’t care. He needed you. He didn’t need your panties with your presence so close, being near you was enough to drive him wild. The thought of you, moaning his name, quivering and shaking under him, being so overstimulated by his feather-light touches that those precious tears would stream down your tinted cheeks was enough to make him cum with a grunt, white spraying across the shower tiles. 

He watched as the water washed it down the drain as he rested his arm against the cool wall, letting the water hit his back and trickle off his shoulder blades. 

Soon. he thought with a sigh, lathering the shampoo through his wet hair. 

Soon you’d be moaning his name. He’d make sure of it.

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It was a mess, to say the least. 

Paint bottles and brushes were scattered across the table, your brushes tossed everywhere. Paint was as far as the eyes could see, dried splatters across the wood. You swore you had more on the table and on your shirt than the actual painting. 

But it was done. Finally. 

You dipped your brush in the deepest shade of black, a firm stroke applied to the corner of the canvas with your initials. You sighed, setting your brush in the murky water to soak, stepping back to admire your work in the dim light provided. Tilting your head slightly, you nodded- contempt with your final product. 

“ It looks amazing pumpkin.” a deep voice lulled from the entryway to the studio, and you turned to face Steve with a smile plastered across your face. 

Your hair was in a messy bun, clinging on to dear life, your cheeks and nose dotted with blues and yellows. But you didn't care. You were just happy to see Steve, already comforted by his soft aura filling the room. 

You did a double-take as he emerged from the shadows, breath getting caught in your throat. Towering over you, he wore a too-small black tee that made his muscles BULGE. It did nothing for the imagination, it was all right there.

The faint outline of his abs peaked from the fabric, the ink on his biceps making you squirm. Grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, boxers just peaking out as if to say look at me! No scratch that- scream was more like it. 

You knew he had just come from the gym, and it took everything in you to not step a few paces, link your arms around his neck and kiss him silly. He saw the effect he had on you, the way your breath hitched, the way your pupils dilated, the way your cheeks filled with heat. 

You knew he knew, as he approached you with that cocky smirk on his face, eyes filled with mischief as he backed you slowly into the table. 

You hit it with a bump, hands reaching back to steady yourself as he chuckled, his hand coming down to cup your chin with his thumb. “You really think so?” you breathed, voice shaky with his presence so close. 

Your body was hot. Too hot. 

Steve had you under a spell, one you couldn’t shake. Ever since that time he had corned you in this very room for the first time, the tension was unbearable. Things had picked up since Sam’s little visit on the couch, as touches began to linger a little too long, little innocent gestures happening more and more often. Glances were tossed, and you caught his gaze linger on you more than once. The air was thick whenever the two of you were together, and the cord was slowly uncoiling. 

By this point, it was a challenge. 

A challenge of who would break first, who would take control. You were close to snapping completely. 

Steve knew. He always knew. The fucking bastard.

 “ I know so silly girl.” he teased, tilting your head up to met his loving gaze. His thumb inched towards your lips, brushing over them softly. You playfully wrapped your lips around his digit, sucking it slowly and letting it go with a pop! 

With a giggle, you winked at him and turned around, leaning over the table to reach for the bottle of purple paint that required your attention. “ Help me clean up please?” You shifted back slowly and were met with a pleasant surprise. 

The feeling of the very prominent boner against the curve o your ass had you squirming, and you tried your best to ignore it.

 But Steve wouldn’t. 

“ I think we have other things that require our attention, don’t cha think?” he leaned over you, his the firm hands on your hips invited you to turn back around to face him. 

There was no denying the look in his eye as he surveyed you, like a predator meeting its prey. 

Lust. 

 “ Like what Stevie?” you whispered, his hands slowly rubbing up and down your figure soothingly. “ I think you know, pumpkin.” He hissed through clenched teeth as you began to walk your fingers up his arm, tracing the swirling ink with your fingers. 

You could barely stand it. 

How near he was, the waves of arousal that seeped off of him. But you wanted him to make the first move. “ Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop. We can pretend this never happened. Because gods Y/N when I start-” His warm breath tickled your face as he inched closer and closer to your lips. 

“ I’m not going to be able to stop.”

 Good gods. It was happening. All these nights with your hands between your thighs, wishing it was him, his fingers, his tongue- his cock… it was happening tonight. 

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” you whispered, breathless- causing a growl to emit from his throat. His lips captured yours harshly, a moan emitting from your throat was muffled as he silenced it.

 His lips were soft, delicate, but his kiss and touches were anything but. The game was over, the chase completed. There was no time for soft, tender touches. Another time. Now, it was lust.

 Pure, undying lust. 

He tasted of mint as his tongue snaked out to enter your mouth as you granted him access, teeth clashing. Firm hands groped your thighs, causing a gasp to escape you as he lifted you onto the table with ease. The way he could manhandle you so easily caused you to shiver, more liquid dripping through your panties. 

“ God you are so beautiful.” he growled, eyes sweeping over you once more. Your plump lips swollen, cherry lipgloss smeared slightly, eyes wide and eager had him in a trance.

 “ I’ve been dying to taste that cherry chapstick for months now pumpkin.” he murmured, little kisses and nips being placed down your bared neck, a giggle escaping you at his words. “You're silly Stevie.” you quipped, your words becoming a pornographic moan as he bite down harshly, licking the bruises he applied on your skin. 

His hands wandered from tugging your hair back gently to provide him more access, to snaking down your sides to meet your hips. “ Such a silly little goose aren’t I?” he mocked, quoting what you’d often call him. You’re such a silly little goose Stevie! You’d laugh as he’d tickle your sides in the kitchen, while you’d be trying to make breakfast. 

“Mmmmm” you moaned as you lifted your hands up, allowing him to slip your shirt over your head and pile onto the floor. “ Such a cheeky little girl- not wearing a bra aren’t you?” he cooed and you blushed.

 “ Was expecting you daddy.” Oh shit. 

That word stung like a bee on your tongue, you didn't mean to let it slip. You never let it slip out during sex with anyone. But you didn't have a connection with anyone like you did with Steve. 

You swore his eyes grew even darker, a snarl leaving his lips as he palmed himself through his sweats. “ Daddy’s going to take such care of you pumpkin.” He slowly began to push you back until your back lay against the table. You watched as he slowly removed his shirt, his abs carved and crafted beautifully. 

You wanted to feel them. 

You reached your hand forward to touch, and a large hand snatched your wrist and pinned it over your head. “ Let me enjoy my beautiful canvas pumpkin.” he tsked, and you whimpered, nodding.

 “ So pretty..” he drawled, Brooklyn accent thick as his hand dipped in the paint you had placed in your pallet beforehand. Your eyes widened in alarm as he swirled his finger in the bright blue. 

“ Wha- eek!” you shrieked as the cool paint was coated to your skin, making you shiver. “Now I know I’m no Picasso honey but you’re just so pretty laid out for me like this I couldn’t resist.” 

His finger circled your breast, the blue paint leaving a faint outline of a circle on your skin. You withered and moaned under him at the sensation, his finger coming up to pinch and flick at your peaked nipple, staining it blue.

 “ Pleaseee..” you whimpered as he dipped his finger in the red, completing the same actions to the other breast. 

“ Please what honey? Gotta use your big girl words and tell Daddy whatcha need.” he cooed, loving the fact that just mere, featherlight touches could leave you at his mercy. 

“Need you so bad Stevie.” you whined, hips bucking slightly as he pinched your nipple between his thumb and finger.

 Dipping his finger in the paint once more, he drew an arrow down your stomach, pointing down to the place you needed him most. You were dripping at his point, your arousal seeping down your thighs Steve had pushed open as he stood between them. Your eyes widened as he smirked down at you. “ It’s artistic vision, pumpkin.” 

You knew where this was going to end. And you needed it. Very, very badly.

 You lifted your hips slightly as he shimmed you out of your shorts, licking his lips at the sight of you sprawled out for him like a feast. Your underwear was completely soaked, and the evil bastard cooed at the sight. 

“ Daddy got you all hot and bothered sweetcheeks? Your shaking and I’ve barely even touched you yet.” 

Sliding the wet panties down your legs, he slipped them in his back pocket instead of the heap of clothing across the white tile floor. “S’good-” you moaned as he slid a finger along your slit, gathering the wetness that lay there. 

Your eyes fluttered open to see the hottest image you had ever seen. Steve, with his fingers in his mouth- lapping at your juices like a man starved. You nearly moaned at the sight alone. Jesus fuck. 

“Sweet like honey…” he growled, giving you no time to prepare for his next actions as he gripped your thighs harshly, setting your legs upon his buff shoulders and dove into your sweet cunt. 

A high pitched wail left your throat as he licked your pussy from bottom to top, not missing a spot. His tongue was everywhere, and it was pure ecstasy. Wanton moans escaped your lips as he swirled his tongue around your clit, sucking on it harshly. 

You gripped his long golden locks firmly as he lapped at your juices, the sensations making your hips buck up in pleasure. Steve’s hand came down to rest on your lower abdomen, keeping you in place as his tongue slipped inside you, hitting a spot that made you scream. 

“ Sing for me honey. Fall apart for Daddy.” he growled as you tugged at his roots harshly. 

You looked down at the man kneeling before you,  your juices that glistened on his chin as he stared at your pussy as if he were a kid in a candy store. As far as you knew, Steve kneeled for no one. He was headstrong and always in control. Even if he were still in control now, the way he was eating you out like you were his last meal, on his knees for you, latching onto your bud, and licking up your juices made you feel like you were a goddess. His equal.

You began to move your hips as far as his grip on your stomach would allow, grinding and riding against his face slowly. “Jesus fuck pumpkin.” he growled.

 It was too much. Too many sensations. 

You came apart on his face with a scream of his name, clinging onto him for dear life as you squirted, making a mess. Legs shaking, cunt clenching around nothing, you urged your breathing to slow down. You were floating in pure bliss as he stood up, chuckling at the way your legs were uncontrollably twitching.

 “ I’m not done with you yet sweet girl. Gotta feed you daddy’s cum yeah?”

 “Please Daddy-” you whined, and he gripped your hips, flipping you around like a rag doll so that your legs were dangling over the table, ass in the air for him.

 “ You know how many times I’ve had to restrain myself from bending you over the kitchen counter and pounding into you until your a blubbering mess? Too many times.” he scolded, kneading your ass slowly. 

“Shouldda done it Daddy.” you giggled, as Steve pulled his boxers down with a smirk. “ Betcha you would've liked that more than you should have honey. Betcha you'd like some spankings too hm?” he asked, chuckling as you whimpered, nodding your head as you shoke your ass playfully.

 “ Well you're in luck pumpkin.” he cooed, placing his hand in the pallet of wet paint once more. Smack! You moaned as he smacked your ass raw, colourful hand prints placed across it like abstract art. He gave you no warning as he slid into you, hitting home. 

“DADDY-” you wailed as his hand came up to grip your hair harshly, pulling you up closer to him. He was big. Holy shit he was big.  “S’big-” you gasped as he bottomed out into your cunt, your walls clenching him tightly. 

“ Shhh pumpkin. You can take it love, you wanna make daddy happy yeah? Be a good little cum dump?” 

You clenched around him harder, causing a hiss to leave his mouth. “ So. Fucking. Tight.” he growled, as he began to thrust into you harder, tugging on your roots with force. “ Daddy please pleaseplease s’good-” 

You could barely form a coherent thought at this point, tears starting to stream down your face as Steve showed no mercy to you or your quivering cunt- thrusting deep, hard and fast. “ Tightest little cunt I’ve ever had. Never letting you go pumpkin.” he cooed, grinning down at the sight of your cheeks wet, mascara smeared. 

You were beautiful like this, being his little toy. 

You chanted his name like a prayer as his other hand snaked down to play with your clit, rubbing little circles with his fingers. “Need- need-” you wailed as he manhandled you, thrusting into you even harder. 

“ You wanna know something pumpkin?” he asked, ignoring your little pleases and cries. “ You’re such a good little cum dump love. You’re a little hole for me to use and abuse whenever I want- but you know that already don’t you? Know you’re only good for keeping my cock warm.” he cooed, sympathy dripping off his tone like acid. 

The degradation and praise made your head spin, made your vision turn foggy. 

“ Only your cum dump daddy-” you moaned, cumming on his cock with a cry. You felt as if you were on cloud nine, your legs shaking and head fuzzy. 

You gripped onto Steve’s arm tightly as his hips began to falter, and you couldn’t help but clench around him uncontrollably. 

“ Fill me to the brim daddy. Want your cummies in me.” you breathed, smiling when you felt his grip on you tighten. With a groan, he spilled into you, his grip on your hair loosening.

 You giggled as he attempted to slow his breathing, stroking your sides softly. 

“ You okay pumpkin? Did I hurt you?” You shoke your head, a giggling leaving your lips. “ No Stevie I’m okay. Best I’ve ever been actually.” He smiled, pulling out of you slowly. 

You whined at the emptiness, and he shushed you, watching his cum mix with yours and drip slowly down your inner thigh. His finger trailed up your shaking thigh, capturing the cum on his finger and smearing it across your cunt. 

You whined, the feeling of his finger making you squirm.

 “ I know, I know pumpkin. I know she’s sensitive but you need your cum baby. Healthy for you.” He winked and you giggled, looking back once more to meet his loving gaze. 

Steve’s fingers slid inside you, stuffing his cum inside you gently. Your neck hung forward, body going limp at the feeling.

 “Shhhh pumpkin. You did so good for me honey.” You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. Your mind was foggy and the feeling of his fingers, the pad of his thumb applying slight pressure to your clit made any thought turn to mush. 

Eyes glassy, you looked back at him as he scooped every drop of cum into your cunt.

 “Daddy…” 

Sub space overwhelmed you. It was too much. 

Your whole body was shaking and quivering, cheeks flushed and filled with warmth. Steve knew right away that you were floating in a bubble, sub space overtaking you.

 “ Daddy’s here pretty girl. I’ll take care of you- you don’t have to worry about a thing. Let’s get you cleaned up and I can take you back home yeah?”

 “Don’t leave-” you whimpered, clinging onto his bicep tightly, looking up at him with admiration in your eyes.

 “Never. Never ever pumpkin.” You breathed a sigh of relief at his reassurance, purring as he slid his arms around you and held you close.

[orphaned-kiirokero]

Outro: Love is Not Over (5)

Pairing: Daycare Teacher! Hoseok x Single Mom! Reader.

Genre: Single Parent! AU, Teacher! AU, Hybrid! AU, Fluff, Angst, Adorable Kids,

Warnings: Oh boy, self doubt, A LOT of it. angsty, momma y/n isn’t doing too good, mentions of anxiety, allusions to worthlessness, just a lot of bad intrusive thoughts that are very degrading (and not in the smexy way)

Word Count: 1.1k

Note: I have a website that calculates my word count for stories, but it also tells me the most used word. 1.4% of this chapter is the word “Yunho” lol

Summary: Years after a relationship goes south. You are the single mother of a beautiful 6-year-old golden retriever hybrid who you named Yunho. He is the light of your life. Yunho is everything to you, and you’d do anything for him. But you’re a human. Yunho doesn’t care, he will tell you he doesn’t. “You’re still my Eomma. No matter what.” He says. But you can’t help but feel like you will never be enough for him. You can’t be the mother he deserves. You can’t show him the ropes of being a hybrid, and you can’t teach him things the other moms can. But you try. You try your damn hardest. So, when a handsome German Shepard hybrid comes into your life, helping you and guiding Yunho in a way you can’t, you can’t help the cozy home he sets up in your heart.

Chapter Guide:

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      Being an adult was exhausting. Especially the part where you pretend that you're listening when the bank teller states you should’ve cashed in your paycheck 2 days ago to get a lesser fee. Thanks Pat, I’ll think of that next time I’m working my ass off and talking care of a six-year-old, lovely advice, you are so helpful. 

     But it was enough to distract me from the underlying inferiority I felt every time I saw a dog hybrid in passing, even if it was just for a bit. I understood that the trend today was short fur and undercuts, but what if their fur was short for a bigger reason? Was it just their style or was it practical? Is long fur bad for your health? 

      These questions never left my head as I got some time to myself. I was on my way to pick up Yunho from his little daycare adventure. Hyejin texted me occasionally throughout the day, giving me updates about how Yunho was doing. Every picture she sent had a smiling golden retriever boy who looked more than okay, perfectly happy and healthy. 

      However, it pained me that seeing him sport his long fur stirred up insecurity in me. It was like a taunt. Words playing in the back of my head, telling me I was an incapable mother, that Yunho deserved better, that when he grows up and sees these pictures, he’ll resent you. 

      Like the laughter of a jester, I was calling myself stupid, unworthy. Every single thing I’ve done imperfectly played in my head like a twisted movie from hell. Look, look, look. Look how incapable you are. Look how badly you're raising your son. Look at your failures. 

      Even if I turned on the radio, I could still hear my subconscious toying with me. Like a fly in a tarantula’s nest. Why has one person's observation affected me so much? A couple words and my resolve suddenly came crashing down? Maybe it was the one spark that needed to set off the explosion. All the TNT, lined up from previous nights consumed by irrational thoughts, now finally igniting. “You’re failing”

Rationally, I knew that wasn’t the case. 

But it’s never that easy, is it? 

“Eomma!”

“Hi, bub!” I giggled. 

      Yunho ran into my arms, tackling me onto the hard, concrete sidewalk. But I didn’t mind. Yunho squeezes me tight, scenting me with upmost enthusiasm, his tail whipping around rapidly. “I missed you,” Yunho sighed, fisting his hands into my shirt. “I missed you too baby,” I whispered, holding him just a tad bit closer, and I meant it. 

No matter how bad I felt, I’d always be okay with him around. 

      “Did you have fun?” I asked. He nodded frantically, face painted with excitement. “Yes! I got to play with legos!” He raised his arms up, expressing just how much he loved playing with the legos. “You did? That’s awesome!” I gasped, kissing my son on the forehead. 

      I stood back up on my feet, taking Yunho in my arms to carry him back to the daycare. I still had to thank Hyejin, and no doubt was she still in the office, giving me a moment with Yunho. but to my surprise, it wasn’t Hyejin that let Yunho bolt out the door and tackle me to the ground. It was Hoseok. 

      He gave me a shy wave and smile as Yunho and I entered the front office. I gave him a genuine one back. I may be fighting with myself in my head, but it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know, so why be cold? “Hello Hoseok,” I said, and Yunho also gives him an excited wave.

     “Hello Y/n, how was your day?” He asked, but his words were still tight, still cautious. “It was okay... Thank you for watching over Yunho for me, you and Hyejin both.” Hoseok seemed to light up a bit at my words as his smile grew wider. “It’s nothing really, Yunho is an amazing kid,” I felt my heart swell at those words, Yunho was definitely an amazing kid. I must’ve done something right. Right?

      “Yeah, he is,” I teased the boy who blushed and hid his face in the crook of my neck. I cooed at his cuteness before Hoseok spoke up again. “I-I’m sorry for earlier, I really didn’t mean to upset you.” He curved into himself a bit. 

      His apology was sincere, I knew that. From what Hyejin had told me and from what I observed, Hoseok was a good guy. He didn’t know the impact his words had, besides; it was my problem anyway. Why burden someone else?

    “I’d like to take you for a coffee sometime, as an apology” Hoseok added on after I didn’t say anything for a minute or two. I chuckled, “That sounds nice, but you don’t have to. It’s okay, really,” but Hoseok shook his head, insisting that this was the way to apologize for something that obviously struck a deep nerve. 

“Alright, I give in. Do you have a date in mind?” I asked.

“Ah... I didn’t get that far... Here, I’ll give you my number so I can text you!” Hoseok exclaimed, having an eureka moment. 

“Smooth, Hoseok, very smooth.” I giggled. 

      “Wha? Oh no! I didn’t- I mean...” Hoseok stuttered on, a flush of pink on his face. “I’m joking,” I smiled. Hoseok sighed in relief, chuckling to himself. “Here you go,” Hoseok handed me his phone, and I entered my number in his contacts with one hand, expertly. People don’t mention that one of the mom powers is being able to do things one handed. 

      “I’ll text you as soon as I can,” Hoseok promised. “I’ll be waiting,” I said, forgetting all about my worries and fears for a moment. The air felt calm, my brain relaxed, it was easier to breathe. I was thankful for that, even if the moment was short. 

      Yunho looked out the car window at the trees that lined the road. He was swinging his feet back and forth. The ears on the top of his head twitched a bit every time a new song started on the radio. The sun hit his face like a Picasso painting that screamed innocence. A portrait that slipped off the canvas, given to me, even if I wasn’t deserving of such beauty. 

      “Hey bub?” I called, glancing in the rear-view mirror to look at my son. “Yea?” He answered back, looking towards me even if he couldn’t look at my face. “Are your ears and tail okay?”

“Yep!”

“Your fur doesn’t bother you?”

“Nope!”

“Are you sure? We can cut it if it’s bothering you,”

“I don’t wanna cut it!” 

      Yunho doesn’t lie. He can’t. He always gives himself away by either avoiding my gaze or mumbling to himself. But he was confident in those words. That helped. “Okay bub, I love you.”

“I love you too Eomma,”

[horansqueen]

Stuck With You - Chapter 10

Chapter 10 : If Only

🡪chapter 1  🡪chapter 2  🡪chapter 3  🡪chapter 4  🡪chapter 5  🡪chapter 6   🡪chapter 7  🡪chapter 8  🡪chapter 9

College Enemies To Lovers AU

characters // masterlist // instagrams // mood board

Well every single time I see you I start to feel this way It makes me wonder if I am ever gonna feel this way again. Then I hear myself reply "You've got to hold it in" this time tonight There's a feeling screaming in the back of my head Saying it over and over

If only I had the guts to feel this way if only you'd look at me and want to stay if only I’d take you in my arms and say That I won't go cuz I need you

click here to be on the update list

                                         What woke me up the next day is the sound of someone walking quickly but gently around the room. I felt a shiver cross my whole body, realizing I didn't have any blanket over me. I reached for one and pulled it over me, ready to fall asleep, when I remembered my evening. I had spent a good part of the evening locked in a bathroom with Niall, he drove me and Louis home, we lied down in the same bed but most of all, he had kissed me. I felt my heart flutter as I held my breath, living over the kiss in my head. His body was warm, just like his lips, and I whimpered low as the moment played over and over in my head.

"Shit!" someone whispered after a light sound.

It made me frown and I forced myself to wake up and sit in bed, my palm pressing and rubbing my tired eyes. Niall had kissed me, it was true, but he had also ran away right after, and that meant I had no idea what was going on in his mind, or what I could expect from him this morning. His mood swings, or whatever it was, were driving me insane.

"Niall?"

He turned to me suddenly, his eyes getting slightly bigger when he noticed I was awake, and held his breath. His eyes roamed on me and I immediately felt self-conscious. I probably looked like an idiot, but at the same time, it wasn't the first time he was seeing me in the morning.

"Hey uhm, go back to bed, I didn't want to wake you up." he let out low but a bit nervously. "I just needed to get changed and pick my stuff, I have somewhere to be."

I pressed my lips together, blinking a few times until I was completely awake, and started playing with my fingers.

"Niall, about last night-"

He kept rummaging through his stuff without looking at me. "Look, Devon." he cut me with a sigh. "I don't really have time to deal with that right now."

The first thing that hit me was how hurt I was that he hadn't called me 'Devie', the way he always does. I knew it was mostly to tease me, but it actually grew on me and I ended up liking it. No one else had ever nicknamed me like that before.

"What do you mean, 'deal with it'?"

"I mean I don't have time to talk, okay?" he grabbed his back pack, eyeing his guitar and finally sighing again. "I'll be back late. Or not at all. Hope you have a nice day."

My eyes followed him as he walked until the door, opening it and glancing back at me before leaving. The door closed behind him and that's when I realized I was holding my breath. I emptied my lungs and inhaled again before closing my eyes and sighing. It could have been worse. At least, he had acknowledged me. He had even talked to me, and looked at me, which were two things he didn't really do during the low moments of his mood swings, so that was something, right?

I brought my hand to my mouth, running two of my fingertips on my bottom lip, remembering when he kissed me once again. I never thought a simple kiss could obsess me that much but it did. There was something about Niall that I needed, something that I lusted, something that I wanted... and I couldn't explain it. But I had to face reality, even if admitting it, even to myself, seemed totally horrible. I liked Niall. I really really liked Niall. For the most part, he was the opposite of my ex boyfriend, at least when he was in a good mood, and I chuckled low when I realized it was probably his best quality, which obviously didn't mean that I liked when he'd ignore me. In fact, that was something I really hated, and that reminded me of my ex boyfriend, unfortunately. I had been played so much before and I had promised myself no one would ever use me that way again. There must have been something extremely wrong with me if the men around me would ignore me whenever they didn't feel like it, right? I was not a toy to play with, and I deserved so much better... didn't I?

I sighed again and my eyes fluttered open. Of course, Niall didn't owe me anything, and the fact that I desperately wanted him in my life was going to remain a secret. I just wished he wouldn't pretend nothing had happened, because something had, and clearly, it had meant something. It was not alcohol, since neither of us really drank, and that kiss couldn't be excused by an intoxication. Thinking about it made me feel ecstatic and I cleared my throat, trying to push the thought away.

All the thoughts, questions and memories in my mind kept getting mixed together, confusing me even more. I finally decided to take a quick shower and dress up before leaving my room. I had nothing to do and nowhere to go but I ended up walking around without a specific destination. It was no surprise when I ended up in front of my unfinished painting. I stared at it for a while, blinking as I focused on the navy blue slowly turning into black on my canvas, before finally sitting in front of it. I felt something twist in my stomach at all the feelings reaching me as I looked at my own painting and the pain inside me was sharper than a knife. To me, what was on this canvas was so obvious that I felt naked and somehow, it made me think about Niall and when I saw him write a song on the piano. I had seen him vulnerable in a way too when I spied on him as he composed a song, and even if I still felt guilty about it, it made me see a side of him that I probably would have never seen in any other circumstances. I felt like I connected with him because of that and as my eyes roamed on my panting, I realized perhaps he couldn't connect with me the same way. After all, I hadn't opened up to him and he didn't see any of my art either.

I sat in front of my half-done painting and without thinking, I grabbing my brush and started adding colors. I had done a few nature paintings before, and I did enjoy the techniques and dimensions, but throwing paint at my canvas depending on how I felt had always been my favorite form of art, if only because it was abstract and I didn't have to follow many instructions except those my guts and heart were telling me.

I ended up straining my pants and shirt but it didn't matter. After half an hour, I was done, and my lips parted when I realized I had never worked so fast before. I stared at my creation, immediately hating it even if I knew it would pass, and I closed my eyes. I breathed in an out for about a minute and finally opened my eyes again. My painting was still there and my heart twisted in my chest. It surprised me because I was pretty sure I had thrown all of it on that fucking canvas.

I got up and licked my lips, breathing in deeply and taking a step back. I decided to leave it there and perhaps, at some point, I could show it to Niall. Maybe I would have the guts to show him all the feelings inside me, all the things I had gone through, all the betrayal, rejection and fake love I had received before even knowing him... but it wouldn't be today.

I finally turned around and left, walking very quickly and randomly in the halls. I realized it was not so random when I heard the notes on a piano and a voice that I could recognize anywhere now, especially because it always brought a special kind of pain in my chest.

"Dear Patience If I pour my heart out, can you keep a promise? 'Cause the situation Is like a mountain that's been weighing on my conscience If I'm being honest"

I held my breath and only pushed the air out of my lungs when the notes and the voice stopped. I moved closer to the door and peaked inside, my heart jumping at the sight of Niall, scribbling in a notebook. Once again, he was sitting in front of his piano and when he brought his fingers back over the keys, I held my breath again.

"Hey, can you show your face? Can you see that I'm anxious? Can you hear what I'm saying, saying? Hey, 'cause I fall too fast And I go down blazing Can you hear what I'm saying?"

My eyes fluttered close and I pressed my lips together, the sound of the notes invading me as his voice made my whole body throb. I leaned against the wall but tripped on my feet, letting out a curse word. The piano and the voice stopped at the same time and quickly, I turned around and left. I felt like my heart was about to explode in my chest when I heard a "Hey!" coming from behind. I brought my shoulders up and closer to my cheeks but didn't slow down until he reached me. His hand touched my upper arm gently and swiftly, I turned around, coming face to face with Niall.

"Devie, hey."

My lips curled slightly at the nickname and I licked my lips. "S-Sorry Niall, I didn't want to spy, I just-"

"What are you doing here, Devie?" he cut me, frowning at me as he put his hands on his hips, staring down at me. "What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing I just, I felt like painting." I explained, shrugging a shoulder. "So I painted. And then I heard a piano and a voice. And it was you. That's all."

"Pretty sure the painting class isn't around here." he pointed out, making me blink a few times.

I started playing with my fingers nervously and swallowed. "I know, I just walked around and ended here."

I glanced around us, noticing there was literally no one around. Everyone was probably doing something else with their sunday, something like relaxing, spending time with friends, or any other hobby normal people have.

"Okay." he replied, crossing his arms over his chest and making me even more anxious.

"I thought there would be like ten of you, singing random songs together whenever you didn't have class." I joked with a chuckle, making him smile.

"This is not a Disney movie, you know." he pointed out, smiling more. "There's a lot of heavy curse words and throwing notebooks and pens around the room violently."

This time, I laughed and shook my head as he took a step closer, letting his arms fall on each sides of him. He frowned a bit and bent down slightly to look at me before bringing one of his hands up again. My heart threatened to get out of my chest when his face was only a few inches away from mine and I couldn't help but think he was about to kiss me again. Instead, I felt my eyes flutter as he brought his thumb right under my eye, on my cheekbone.

"You're got some blue paint here." he whispered before wiping it slowly.

I felt disappointed that I couldn't feel his lips on mine again, but the way he had touched me made me feel a bit dizzy and my lips parted.

"Thank you." I breathed out, staring at him.

"Don't thank me." he chuckled. " I think I made it worse."

I chuckled too and licked my lips before pressing them together. "Look, Niall, about last night."

"Dev, I need to go, okay? I'll see you soon."

"Wait, Niall!" I let out, taking a step closer as he took one back. "I just-"

"Sorry!"

He turned around and started jogging back to where he came from and I sighed a bit too loud. The truth was, I had no idea what I was going to tell him. That I liked the kiss? That I wanted to kiss him again, and maybe even more? That I actually liked him? That simple thought was ridiculous, no... I would have probably ended up telling him that it was ok, that I knew he regretted it, and that we could pretend it never happened. It was not what I felt, but what else could I tell him?

I could have just gone back to talk to him. After all, I knew exactly where he was and what he was doing, but I decided against it. I couldn't force him to talk to me and maybe it was better this way.

I stood motionless just staring in front of me for a while, until I heard my phone. I grabbed it from my pocket, almost dropping it, and noticed all the blue and black paint on my hands. Now I knew how some of it had ended up on my cheek. I wouldn't admit it out loud, but I was happy it did, if only to have this interaction with Niall.

'Dinner. With me. Tonight.'

I smiled fondly at my phone and quickly typed a reply to Louis.

'How about now? I'm starving.'

He just replied with a thumb up emoji and I walked back to my room, smiling when I saw Louis leaned against my door, hands in his pockets and ankles crossed.

"Hey you!" I just said when I stopped in front of him. "How's your head today?

"Bad. My whole body hurts. It feels like I was ran over by a truck. How are you?"

"I didn't really drink." I admitted with a shrug. "You know, in case you needed someone to bring you back home."

"You needed to be sober to ask Niall for a ride?" he asked with a frown, a smirk gracing his lips.

I raised my nose in a grimace and groaned low, making him laugh. He moved closer and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into a hug. His hoodie was soft and warm and I just closed my eyes, inhaling deeply his scent. It reminded me of how good Niall smelled last night, in my bed, and I felt my heart jump in my chest. I recognized this feeling, and I hated this feeling.

"So, how about chinese food?"

----

"Wait, he kissed you?"

We had decided to eat in his room, sitting on the floor, and I thought we would put a movie on but we just ended up talking together. I loved talking with Louis, he was pretty much my only friend here anyway. Hell, he was probably the only friend I had in the whole wide world.

"Mmhm, but then you were sick and he brought you back to your room and spent the night with you." I explained, my eyes locked on the noodles in my bowl at I moved my spoon in it.

Letting all that out was embarrassing but at the same time, I felt like Louis was the only one I could share this with. I was also extremely confused by Niall's behavior and by mine, too. What was I doing exactly? Why did I want to get closer to Niall so bad and why did it matter if he was nice to me or not?

"Ouch, sorry about that." he grimaced before I shrugged. It was not Louis' fault and I would never blame him for it. "Wow, I can't believe he kissed you." Louis added in a low tone before putting way too many noodles in his mouth and chewing. "Never thought he'd make a move so early."

"What?" I asked as my heart skipped a few beats. "Why do you say that?"

He stopped chewing and his eyes met mine as I remained motionless, my lips slightly parted. Did I really hear what I thought I heard?

"Dev, do I have to state the obvious?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as I frowned. "Niall likes you!" he added a bit louder before chuckling. "He's liked you since the first day he met you!"

My frown turned into a smile and I rolled my eyes with a chuckle. "Yea, sure, of course." I let out sarcastically, putting my bowl away and leaning against his bed. "Niall Horan likes me."

The thought was so ridiculous that I laughed a bit more and shook my head.

"He does."

"He's been an ass to me since day one. He's rude to me or ignores me. Just because he kissed me one time doesn't mean he actually has feelings for me."

Louis kept quiet and when I turned my head to look at him, he was staring at me with a smirk on his face, noodles in his fork up in mid-air.

"What?"

"You like him." he pointed out, making me suddenly embarrassed as I frowned again.

"No."

"You fookin' like him!" he repeated, bursting into laughter. "You should see your face!"

"Shut up!"

Louis pushed my upper arm slightly, making me tilt slightly as I groaned. I hated that he said that because I hadn't admitted that to myself just yet. Perhaps, the fact that I liked Niall was very obvious but I just hoped it was not. I didn't even know how to deal with that new feeling and I certainly didn't want anyone to try and analyze how I felt.

"You like him!" he added, making me groan low again before I turned and pushed him gently at my turn.

The cup of noodles slipped out of his hand and ended on my thighs. I let out a short yell and held my breath as the warm liquid soaked my pants and the bottom of my shirt.

"Fuck! I'm sorry!" Louis let out before chuckling again. "Sorry, this is way too funny!"

He got up as I remained still, trying not to make it worse. After a few seconds, he handed me a hoodie and I just stared at it. What would Niall say if I walked back to our room wearing Louis' hoodie? I knew it shouldn't bother me but Niall seemed to get pissed whenever I said something about Louis and I felt like it would make things worse between us.

"Thanks Louis, but I'll just go get changed." I just said, getting up, feeling how drenched my pants were. "It's not like my room was very far."

"Okay, I'll pick a movie while waiting for you, if you want."

"Mmhm, good idea."

I walked out of his room and reached mine with only a few steps and without thinking, I turned the knob and opened the door. Niall was there, completely naked, laying on top of the brunette I remember seeing at the party, the one he had his arm around. They both stopped what they were doing when they noticed me and Niall turned his head to look at me. I suddenly felt nauseous and dazed, so much that I had to hold the knob harder and lean my other hand on the door frame.

I could swear I saw guilt in Niall's eyes but I was probably just dreaming.  I blinked a few times, swallowing the tears that threatened to come out. It was so tough to do that it started physically hurting and I just cleared my throat.

"Sorry, I just..."

"Why don't you just get the fuck out?" I heard the brunette yell.

I didn't send her a glance. I just kept looking at Niall, feeling my heart twist so hard in my chest I could swear it had completely broke, and the worse was that he stared back. He was deep inside an other girl and his eyes were on me, and all I could think about was that I hoped my pain was not showing on my face, because I didn't want him to know that I was fucking hurt by the fact that he was shagging an other girl after kissing me less than 24 hours before.

Like an idiot, I waited. I waited for what seemed like an hour, but was probably just about a minute. I waited for him to apologize. I waited for him to tell me it meant nothing, and that it was a mistake. But I waited in vain because after a while, his gaze just dropped, and I decided that I had seen enough. I had waited enough. I didn't know what I was expecting anyway.

"Fuck you."

My voice was low but firm and with those words, I took a step back and closed the door gently.

--

REQUEST

[tundrainafrica]

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (7/17)

Summary:  “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Note: I was busy with fic exchange pieces for a while but will be focusing on updating my multi chapter fics now. As always, feedback is very much appreciated :D

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 8

Link to cross-postings: AO3

“So you’re Levi Ackerman?” The woman who had just entered the room looked excited. Too excited.

After being kept waiting that long, Levi was in no mood for anything, especially unnecessary pleasantries. For the past thirty minutes at least, he had been sitting on the couch of a quaint office. It was spacious and there was at least enough room on the couch to elevate his knee comfortably. Probably the reason he had the self control to give a curt nod in reply.

“I’m a fan! I watched a few of your events actually and I’m so glad to have you here,” she said too enthusiastically. She paused for a second and shook her head. “No, I’m horrified about you being injured which caused you to end up here but I’m just really excited to get to know you.”

Levi didn’t feel the need to reply.

She walked to her desk and dropped her canvas bag before sitting on the couch in front of Levi. “Sorry for being a little late. I just came out from another meeting and went out to get something to eat after. Maybe I could give you my number and you could text me if you get here before I do.” She took a post-it out of her purse and scrawled a few numbers on it and slid it towards Levi.

Shouldn’t you have my number? Somehow it was hard to believe that she was a counselor. “Name?” Levi asked.

“Shela. Just call me Shela.”

Levi had met those types of people before who go by nicknames. More often than not, he couldn’t blame them, usually they had a very old fashioned or embarrassing name behind it. He couldn’t believe someone as transparent or excitable as her who didn’t look like she had much control of her filter, would have issues about how embarrassing a name was though.

“I have a very old fashioned first name.” Shela added, only confirming Levi’s suspicions. “Shela… Sierra - Hotel - Echo - Lima - Alpha.”

Levi typed the name on his phone and saved the number.

Last Name? Academic History? He set the rest of the details aside. As long as he knew her name, he could probably get through enough sessions to at least keep both his coach and Erwin satisfied. Going to a counselor was not his idea after all. It was his coach apparently who had requested it and it was Erwin who had pushed for it. Without twice a day training or even the freedom to go wherever he wanted without being completely exhausted within hours, Levi had not much of anything else to do anyway.

Shela brought out a notebook from her purse, opened it to a bookmark paged and wrote something on it before looking up at him. Levi couldn’t help but note that when she wasn’t looking ashamed or overly enthusiastic and she did look like she knew what she was doing.

“I’m going to skip the question of ‘what brings you here’ because I think we all know why you’re here.” She gestured her pen towards Levi’s leg. “Let’s start with something simple. How are you? How are you feeling today?”

“My knee hurts and I can’t train anymore. But I’m focusing on studies now so I think I’m doing okay.” He answered, having prepared that script in his head the thirty minutes he spent waiting for her.

“I’m not asking how you’re coping. I’m asking how you’re feeling today.” Shela’s piercing eyes were a beautiful shade of blue. The serious look she gave him then bore into him. In fact, it felt like it bore into his soul.

Despite the generally bad first impression she gave him, Levi was somehow convinced that she was qualified to do that type of work and his showing up there might turn out to be worth something after all. Levi found himself almost hypnotized by that look she gave him, a healthy mixture of concern, interest and professionalism.

Hiding and watching his words felt pointless and Levi found himself saying his answers as his brain came up with them.

                                   A Tale of Two Slaves

The hospital where he was slated to have his next sessions was that same hospital he had stayed in a week ago. Conveniently, it was a five minute walk from where he had been staying since he got out of the hospital: Hange’s apartment.

Just until I can walk up stairs. Levi had told himself. There were many dormitories clustered around campus yet he had ended up staying in the least handicap friendly one. The first floor had a lobby and a common room and the actual bedrooms were only found at the second floor and the third floor. To top it all off, there was no elevator. He had to note though that it was an old building with only three floors so it would have been useless to put one.

He was on scholarship and it was assigned to him back in first year so he did not have much of a choice. He didn’t need to think too much of it either that past three years of college since he had never been injured enough to the point of being unable to climb stairs

With his leg completely immobilized and a deadweight, Levi was sure it would be a nightmare to brave that everyday. The paperwork and legwork required to change dormitories in the middle of the semester seemed daunting as well. In the end, Hange had offered to let him stay over in her apartment.

Her condominium was spacious, it had an elevator and it was walking distance from the hospital where he’d have both his counseling and physical therapy sessions.

Walking Distance. For non handicapped people, it should only take five minutes to walk the two block distance from the hospital to the apartment building. Levi took ten minutes to clear it and by the end of it he was exhausted and despite the chill of mid autumn, Levi found himself sweating as he arrived in the apartment.

It was a Friday afternoon, a week after he was released from the hospital. Nobody was pressuring him to go back to school yet. His professors had been kind enough to send him lecture slides and give him extensions. Some classmates had dropped their own summarized notes and get-well messages.

Levi settled on his bed and propped his knee on his pillow, looking through the lecture slides of his last class. Despite his self imposed week long isolation, Levi just wanted to go back to normal life.

But it never will be normal again. Although Levi did see a glimmer of hope in the possibility of feeling normal again when he went back to school, the realist in him knew it wouldn't happen.

Levi was supposed to be in the process of accepting at least that it would never be the “normal” he used to have and had taken for granted. Something inside him was rebelling the process though.

If I can't live the life I want, then I won't live at all. That something screamed inside him.

That form of rebellion left Levi with little energy for anything else. His mind was slower. His body was heavier. He was seeing little reason to move beyond the mechanical and primal movements needed to survive.

As if by magic, his body that used to carry him over two meter tall bars, suddenly felt like it weighed a ton. The weight crushed him everyday. At times Levi found himself unable to breathe. That was he found himself in that same position for sixteen hours a day, either sleeping or staring at the same white ceiling above him.

In fact, the only time he had left the Hange's apartment was for that one counseling session Hange had prodded him to go to. That was the only time she had forced him to go out of the house as if she herself understood somehow the comfort and at the same time the panic that came with a self imposed isolation.

What else was there to do?

He was alone. He had kept to his own bubble in college, only flitting between the two islands of academics and trainings.He was always either busy or exhausted and the lack of in-between had given him little time to reflect on the state of his mental health. And suddenly he had lost one of his islands, the bigger one, the one that had given him meaning the past few years. That had left him completely and utterly lost. Maybe even desolate.

That was what Shela had pointed out in their first counseling session as Levi attempted to articulate the emptiness inside him, the slight panic that came with idleness, the sudden need to turn off all message notifications and the frequent mood changes that came with Hange's entering and exiting the apartment.

And his weird dependence on Hange.

In between studying for his three subjects that semester and icing his bum knee, what else was there to do? Wait for Hange to come home? Talk to her during that one to two hour window when she wasn't working on her thesis? That was what his life had ended up revolving around anyway.

Levi found himself only replying to anything related to studies or graduating. He had received a few messages from others, suggestions to visit training, offers to visit from teammates and he had ignored them all. Somehow, the reminder of the loss of the one hobby that had kept him busy for the past decade of his life, was mocking. He became someone who waits, someone who just went with the flow of everyone's schedule. Having been busy his whole life, having been constantly needed and looked for and only recently, having been reduced to where he was, Levi felt his life was just a series of wrong choices, wrong choices that only formed a distrust with himself and consequently a refusal to engage in activity.

What else am I supposed to be doing? Levi opened his laptop. For a moment he had tried to go through his school notes at Shela’s advice.

After less than an hour of halfheartedly reviewing his notes and forgetting it soon after, Levi had exhausted his already scarce energy. With nothing else to do, he had decided to move to scrolling through timelines which displayed little to no signs of real life obligations, pinterest and reddit to pass the time. Within an hour of just scrolling through both, he had gotten tired of it too. It was a new feeling. Usually he could drown himself in hours of social media and timelines but at that point, nothing was interesting to him anymore.

Have you tried writing out how you feel? Shela’s suggestion echoed in his head. Like maybe get a journal. It’s a great way to process your thoughts and emotions.

What’s there to write. Levi asked himself and Shela’s voice as it echoed in his head. Levi could only stare at the blank screen, his emotions too non-existent to write. The blank document he had opened in front of him was the best representation of his thoughts and emotions already.

There are no right or wrong answers. Shela had brought up another good point during their session.

You think, therefore you are. You feel therefore you are. As long as you’re processing images, sounds and sensations, you’re thinking. You’re feeling something and you can write something down.

Then why do I feel so empty? Levi had asked.

Shela had compared it to a false bottom. As he continued to stare at the blank page in front of him, Levi was starting to feel for that false bottom in his mind. It was a matter of discipline more than anything, determination to dig into one’s self.

It could have taken hours but as Levi looked at the time on his laptop, he realized much time hadn’t passed. In fact, the time to the lower right of his screen, was still the same. But Levi was starting to think differently.

He did have something to look back on. Stories he hadn’t thought back to in a while, having been occupied by training, Hange’s tests, studies and recoveries. They continued to taunt him in the mornings. With the magic of worldly obligations, Levi had managed to set them aside.

His motivations particularly lay in the fact that his world was a little bigger, he was talking to more people and the idea that these same people he was seeing were the same ones he’d been writing fictional stories for had him questioning his own sanity and had him a little self conscious about having those dreams in the first place.

At that moment though, his inability to think and feel beyond that false bottom had Levi more alarmed and he found himself attempting to articulate those dreams on the word processor just to experience a semblance of something.

Levi at least confirmed one thing, that bottom was false. And the more he articulated those dreams, the more they became real. He was starting to scrape on that false bottom and the first things that were oozing out were dreams. Somehow, the dreams were more vivid that he had ever remembered them to be. He felt almost guilty for having set them aside like some sort of fair weathered friend.

“Hey not bad! Is that homework?”

Levi tensed up in surprise. He should have been able to hear the familiar footsteps and the jangle of the keys from his place on the sofa bed. He never missed it once. Levi didn’t know if he should be proud that he had distracted himself enough not to consider Hange or terrified that she was right behind him at that moment, probably reading through his work.

He quickly closed his tab and looked at the time on the lower right. It was only five. Hange usually went home at seven.

“You’re early,” Levi commented.

“It’s my apartment. I can choose when to go home.” Hange answered. “Anyway what was that? Are you writing?”

“A journal,” Levi explained. There was not much point in lying.

“Did the counselor tell you to do that?”

“Yeah. Something about processing emotions and thoughts.”

“It’s a good exercise. Especially since you seemed pretty out of it recently...” Hange trailed off.

Levi looked back at her and noticed a flicker of what looked like guilt in Hange’s eyes before she looked away.

“Out of it?” Levi knew what she was talking about. He just felt the need to keep the conversation going.

“You spent the past weekend just lying in bed. I never even saw you look through your phone or open your laptop. ” Hange explained. “I’ve seen how these types of things develop so... So yeah, I’m just so happy to see you so focused on something else.”

“I don’t really have much else to get into other than school.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Hange said.

Levi bit his lip, instantly regretting that last sentence. Hange averaged two apologies a day which was a lot given the fact that they only ever had a two hour window to talk in between Levi’s long hours asleep and Hange’s long hours on campus.

“It wasn’t your fault. I was kinda going crazy too...With the jumping I mean.” He added. “And I was the one who decided to make that last jump in the first place. And now you have to change your whole thesis topic.”

“It wasn’t too difficult. Just one week building a new proposal. It’s still the same case study, it’s just I decided to document a recovery. Erwin’s unconventional methods with the recovery makes it worth documenting.”

“At least I’m still useful somewhere,” Levi commented wryly. Hange had explained the thesis to him over the weekend. He should have been relieved at least to know that they weren’t separating anytime soon. Surprisingly though, he wasn’t even happy to hear it. Everything around him just seemed too bleak to celebrate anything. Good news that used to make him smile and celebrate internally suddenly only made him feel a slight sense of relief, the equivalent emotion of seeing a wet floor sign in an area with slippery floors.

Hange sat on the sofa bed next to Levi and looked towards him. She took a deep breath. “I know with what’s been happening, it looks like you don’t have much going for you. And I know things seem pretty dark now but things will get better. You just have to keep living.”

“I’m still breathing.”

“You know what I mean,” Hange said. “When I get up in the morning you’re asleep. When I get back we talk for an hour and half the time it’s just me talking. You barely even answer when I ask what you want. This past weekend I didn’t even see you look through your phone. It’s like you’re practically dead.”

“What else is there to do. I can’t show up for training. My professors aren’t asking me to go back to school soon.”

“Find a new hobby? Continue whatever thing you’re writing. Enjoy the food I bring home. Laugh when you see a funny meme. Or you know, at least smile and do that nose blowing thing people do when you show them a funny meme..”

“My teammates are preparing for the new season. My classmates are at least all caught up in class. I spent too much damn time on that fucking sport. Now that it’s all gone, I feel like I’m just going with the flow of life instead of actually swimming,” Levi said, having taken that last part from Shela’s book.

“Everyone is just going with the flow of life. We’re all at the mercy of time anyway. Live for yourself. See joy in the small things at least. Look at me, I’m simping for athletes like some idiot in between studies.”

“Live for yourself? You follow people’s orders a lot for someone who gives this type of advice.”

“It’s not obeying people. I’m just asking questions and seeking advice. The more relevant facts, information and experience you have, the better the decisions you can make right. So can’t I argue that having more information at my fingertips makes me freer? ” Hange gave Levi a knowing and playful smile

He could tell by the look she gave him that she expected something in return. It was a rhetorical question though, maybe even a premature victory lap for having won that argument. Levi silently looked back at his laptop, not wanting to let her win.

Hange broke the silence. “Okay now that we’re on the topic of asking questions... who’s that Squad Leader Hange Zoe you’re writing about?”

                                A Tale of Two Slaves

Levi could not pinpoint the exact moment he decided for certain that squad leader Hange Zoe was real, when he decided for himself that the stories he was writing out should have been real.

It came as a gradual decision after incessant questions from Hange that at first, he was determined not to answer. Hange was smart about it, keeping the questions as things that could be answered with one word, and before he knew it, he was giving her too much information, it was pointless to blatantly refuse. After he had answered her more than enough questions, she smiled.

“Looks like you got my personality down,” Hange commented. Levi somehow knew her enough to tell there was no judgement or obligation in that voice. In fact, when he looked into her eyes, he saw that same wonder, he had seen many times before when she witnessed the jumps.

That wonder only carried over from questions on the squad leader to questions on his dreams and finally, to questions on how he wrote his dreams out.

“How do you see the world?”

“How do I see the world?”

“Like what type of camera angles do you see the world in. If I asked you to imagine a tree, what kind of tree do you imagine? Do you imagine it from top to bottom, from trunk to top? Our minds are the most creative producers and cameramen you can think of.”

“Do you notice how well our body blends sensations? When the light turns off then on, there’s a split second where you see shapes when your eyes adjust from light to dark?”

“What are the physical manifestations of emotions? Do you feel your stomach drop? Do you ever get that tingling feeling in your legs and suddenly they’re jelly?”

Did you ever witness something so beautiful that you wish you could live forever just so you could never forget it?

The conversation was a little deep and a little too philosophical for him. It was a ploy to get him writing and maybe a ploy to get him to understand the same wonder she had in the world from what he could tell. Somehow he needed it. The way Hange had described the world, the way she had described reality, only made the line between what could have been his imagination and his memory a little more distinct.

It was around then did he look at Hange Zoe the medical student to see the squad leader from his dreams. Erwin Smith, Hange Zoe and every single one of the soldiers in these dreams. They weren’t just dreams or manifestations of an exhausted mind.

In another life, she could have been real. The angles at which he saw the world, the way his body processed those sensations in his dreams, the manifestations of those emotions, too vivid even more vivid than a catharsis from a good book or a phenomenal ending to a TV show.

The questions continued to echo as Hange turned off the lights and Levi lay in bed awake. That food for the thought left Levi hyper aware of his surroundings, all the way down to the small details --- the way every piece of thread on the bed covers beneath him pressed on to him, the way his breath made a sound in the utter silence late at night no matter how much he tried to quiet it, the way the palpitations in his chest could be felt all the way until his head. He was excited to sleep, dream and take stock of his dreams yet he was too excited to fall asleep.

Like a five year old the night before their first field trip, Levi did not fall asleep anytime soon.

                                        A Tale of Two Slaves

Nobody really questions the logic of dreams.

Sometimes one can find themselves only a few millimeters tall on top of a giant donut. Sometimes they can find themselves having milk tea with their favorite celebrity. Dreams are more felt by the moments they bring to people, not by the logic. It was only natural Levi did not question much of his dreams then.

That night as he lay awake, Levi made the conscious effort to live in his dreams, to take note of every detail from the sights and sounds, to the smells, the emotions, repeating to himself the questions Hange had asked earlier that day. What he had failed to consider then, was the context of dreams.

Were Hange and the others okay?

He found himself on the battlefield and he knew exactly what had to be done. In front of him was a large furry creature which the military had dubbed the Beast Titan and around him were other naked humanoid creatures called titans.

The Beast titan was flinging rocks at them and the soldiers were dying at an alarming rate.

Commander Erwin Smith ordered a suicide mission. All surviving soldiers were to rush towards the Beast Titan while Levi flew from the side of the walls and snuck towards him.

He knew what to do. The movements were natural and Levi had flown before, the gear on his waist had only made the whole mission easier. Somehow, on the battlefield he had the luxury of stock knowledge.

That stock knowledge was what had him slicing through the arms, through the eyes, through the achilles and finally through the nape of said titan. He pulled out a blonde man and pushed the sword through the man’s mouth.

He could feel his blood boiling. From anger? Of course, the man had killed Erwin. For a second, Levi had managed to get a view of the blond commander as he flew from the wall slashing titan after titan. He knew the man was probably dead.

But there was a way to revive him. There was a serum.

Before Levi could give it a second thought, a duck billed monster tore into his view and---

Levi sat up and screamed. He found himself in no hurry to dodge that duck billed titan. He was in Hange's apartment, too injured to be flying in the air in those contraptions anyway. He ran his hands through his body and up to his face, taking stock of his reality. He didn't reek of titan blood nor was he covered in it. He scanned the dark room, or at least what was visible given the moon was his only light source.

Somehow, those few moments as captain Levi had felt so real, watching the moon from his place on the sofa bed seemed almost dreamlike.

Which one is my reality? Levi found himself questioning it all. As quickly as the questions came, they were answered. All he needed was one stimuli, strong enough to root him back into his reality.

"Hey, bad dream?"

The dark room and his own state of mind had made it difficult for him to notice that Hange had settled beside him. That voice though had pulled him out of his trance and he became certain at least that he was not dreaming anymore.

"Yeah," Levi managed to say. At the least he still had control of his voice.

Hange sat cross-legged next to him. The moon was at a perfect angle to illuminate her face and even in the dark room he could see it. Her eyes were looking right at him as if she were studying him a little too seriously.

She brought out one finger to his eye and pushed at the corner. That was when Levi felt it. The small tear spread on the corner of his eye and dried up within seconds. Levi only hastened the process by wiping it himself.

"I'm not leaving you tonight."

"Why?"

"I'll take full responsibility for this. It was my mistake that got you into this in the first place.”

"I've had them before. This is nothing new.” Levi argued. As Hange lay on the sofa bed next to him though, he realized he didn’t want her to leave. His body froze as if understanding that emotion, unwilling to accommodate the protests, the impulse inside him to argue, to force her to go back to her room.

The sofa bed was at least big enough for both of them, wide enough for a comfortable one to two feet space between them. Hange had made sure as well to lie on her side, only widening that space a little more.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you this but I swear I really do mean it every time. I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked as she said it.

Levi only continued to stare at the ceiling above him, listening to her disturbed and hitched breaths next to him as if she was holding back something. He didn’t want to look to his side, not wanting to further aggravate a reaction he sensed was raring to come out of her or to further tighten that knot which had settled itself on his chest. His dim surroundings only illuminated weakly by the moon, did not help at all.

Levi lay awake for a while longer, scrambling for words that could placate her.

This is nothing new. It hadn’t worked.

I’m fine. But he wasn’t.

Things happen. Had he not given that same consolation so many times before?

Eventually the rhythm of her breathing evened out enough for Levi to guess that she had fallen asleep, and as if by some special force, Levi found his breathing slowing down too. He was starting to relax.

The apartment was dark and quiet. It was peaceful, so peaceful that Levi never did notice when exactly he was pulled back into his dream. The dimness of the apartment was gradually replaced by the dimness of the forest a long time ago. The distant sounds of passing cars gradually replaced by the crackle of a fire and the rustle of leaves on a windy night.

He was surrounded by trees. A broken wooden cart lay to the side and a few feet away from it a campfire.

The soft and even breathing next to him stayed though. The same exact pattern, the same exact rhythm, the same hitched breaths--- all signs of the light uneasy slumber of his companion.

That was all Levi needed to hear to have sworn nothing much changed about her.

[we-are-inevitable]

modern art // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: hi !! so some of you may remember an old songfic i did in march of last year, titled ‘modern art’ after the song “IDK You Yet” by Alexander 23. well, i’ve always thought that that one shot would work great as a stand alone fic, and here we are! i have ch. 1 edited and SO MUCH of it as changed- like, for example, the fic is a chapter fic now !! regardless, i hope you guys like this !!

WARNINGS: depression, anxiety, self-deprecation, past addiction, mentions of addiction, just general Bad Times- pls be mindful when reading !! it’s just very Not Happy rn ADDITIONAL INFO: all characters are in their mid-twenties in the fic. oh also this is probably important but it’s a soulmate au !!

Read On AO3!

tag list: @bound-for-santa-fe @wannabecowboypunk @shippingcannons @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @smallsies @deliciouspeachpirate @newsies-is-my-erster 

Jack doesn't know what’s going on with himself, but he knows that he could really use his soulmate right about now.

They’ve communicated before. Never verbally, and never enough to reveal who they were. Perhaps they are both just... dealing with some unspoken fears, dealing with the worry of rejection sitting heavy in their chests. Perhaps they both like this mystery- the uncertainty that came with the notes scrawled across their bodies in a handwriting that isn’t their own.

Or perhaps they just aren’t ready to take the plunge. To grow up and face the harsh fact that, as soon as they meet, wherever and whenever that may be, a new chapter of their life will unfold. Consume them. Change anything and everything they’ve ever known or held dear.

They had been braver when they were children, that much was true. Jack remembers staying up late often, writing notes on his skin and watching in awe as the replies appeared. He remembers the giddy rush of trying to quickly wash off the ink on his wrist when they ran out of space to talk, and, oh, how they talked. There were school days when Jack would go to class exhausted, feeling like he’d been walking through quicksand for miles on end, but all of it had been worth it. The exhaustion he felt had been worth being able to talk to them until two, three, four in the morning. Sometimes he regretted it, of course, but only because it was harder for him to focus in class. Never because he was upset at them.

He could never be upset with them.

Even now, Jack remembers a lot about his soulmate. They liked music. They knew how to play the piano. They were into a few video games, even some that Jack had never played, and said that they always tried carrying a book with them wherever they went. Jack remembers that, as a younger kid, they liked Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, but also liked analyzing Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe and a bunch of other fancy authors that Jack had never even heard of. They were intimidatingly smart, and sometimes, would carefully correct Jack’s grammar whenever he misspelled a word or something- but they were never mean about it, they were just… there. A steady presence that he could count on.

Fifteen year old Jack dreamed of finding them one day. But now, twenty-five year old Jack is losing hope.

He can’t exactly help it. For starters, he and his soulmate haven’t communicated in… well, shit, it had to be nearly a year. Maybe nine months or so, but there’s no way to tell for sure, and even then, their conversations since reaching adulthood have been dull, for lack of a better word. A few positive comments here, a ‘have a good day’ there- it’s all so mundane, and neither of them can be blamed for it. They both have busy lives- or, well, Jack does, at least. His job as a graphic designer is hard enough on its own, but the added pressure of doing freelance work and commissions on the side has been eating away at him for weeks, coupled with debilitating self-doubt and lack of motivation for… anything.

Saying that he’s overwhelmed is the understatement of the century.

There is always another design, another client, another meeting, another deadline, another sleepless night as he stares at a blank canvas and prays for a spark of inspiration from whatever God is listening. Usually his inspiration comes from the world around him- his friends, city life, even the quiet confines of his apartment, but right now... Jack is stuck. He had holed himself up in his room days ago, trying and failing to get out of bed every morning when the time came to work- and thank God that the majority of his work could be done from home. His boss was understanding, too, to an extent.

Still, though, there’s a constant heavy weight on his chest that prevents him from moving most days, and he’s lucky if he even gets up long enough to shower or eat or do literally anything aside from lie in silence and count the cracks in his ceiling.

Nothing had happened to him recently to bring this on, from what he can tell. Jack has always been the happy-go-lucky leader, the man with a plan, the guy who always knew just what to say to motivate others into doing the best thing for themselves, but when that responsibility is reflected back onto himself, Jack feels helpless. There are words waiting to be said, sketches waiting to be drawn, designs waiting to be sent to clients… yet Jack lies there, motionless in his room for three days before he even has the energy, the willpower, to pull back his curtains and allow the sunlight to shine through. There is so much he wants to do, so much he needs to do, but he can't bring himself to do any of it.

In all twenty-five years of his life, through all of the things he’s been through, the ups and downs and foster homes and graduations and birthdays and funerals and therapists and rehab facilities and whatever the fuck else life decided to throw at him, Jack has never felt so worthless, so… lonely. His closest friends are all moving on with their lives. Many have already found their soulmate, have settled down and hidden their rowdy, rambunctious pasts behind skeletons in a closet. They’d all gotten their adventures done and over with in high school and college, and most are moving onto bigger and better things in life. They have careers. Families. Some have children, others have pets, a few have an insane amount of plants to care for.

All have seemingly left Jack behind in the dust.

No one told him when to flip the switch.

No one told him when he had aged out of adventure.

Now, they would never say it, but Jack knows. He knows. Saturday hangouts and trips to the bar had been replaced by Sunday church services and playdates for the kids. Rather than hearing yelling from his living room after his friends had all been teetering just on the edge between tipsy and fucked up, Jack hears the news, and documentaries, and podcasts, and the ghosts of a past life that he still seemed to be desperately clinging on to.

Katherine had been the one to tell him that he needed to grow up, though she didn’t put it in such a blunt manner. No, she’s just.... gently urging him to find a bigger apartment, or buy matching furniture from a place that is not a thrift store, or purchase dishes that weren’t of the plastic Walmart brand. She says it was because she wants to see him in a more professional, "adulty" lifestyle, but he knows it’s really because she can see that he’s a mess.

Deep down, Jack knows she’s right. She’s always right.

He just can’t help but feel cemented in place, dreaming of the past while dreading the new future ahead of him.

Jack never asked to feel so broken for no reason. All of the hope and optimism he had felt as a teenager was gone, lost in a sea of uncertain plans and shitty jobs and bill extensions and canvases dropped onto the floor with no rhyme or reason. And, yes, maybe Jack would look dramatic to someone who didn’t know his situation, but Jack knows what dramatic feels like. Dramatic feels like watching his best friend, Charlie, belt onstage in front of a backdrop that he helped create for the school play. Dramatic feels like laughing at the top of his lungs while walking through a random gas station at two in the morning, joined by Race and Al, all while higher than a kite. Dramatic feels like driving to the outskirts of the city with Katherine, climbing onto the roof of an old building and screaming about all of their stress, their anxiety, their insecurities, just to have some form of emotional release.

Dramatic doesn’t feel like sadness. It’s not supposed to.

Not for Jack.

He had been so… so happy, as a teenager. Proud and defiant and carefree. He was the kind of guy to skate and smoke weed in Central Park until midnight and take a math test at eight in the morning the next day. He was the kid who stood on a table in the cafeteria and came out as bisexual to everyone around him, just because of a dumbass bet that he didn’t even get paid for. He was the boy who wasn’t at all good in an academic sense, but who always knew how to talk himself out of trouble, who always came up with the most ridiculous- or most believable- lies to cover his ass when he needed it, who was always the class favorite, the teacher’s pet without meaning to be.

Jack had felt on top of the world back then, but now he’s struggling to even get off of the ground. The longer time goes on, the more lost Jack feels inside his own life. He feels like something was missing, something big. Something bigger than himself.

When his mother was alive, which now felt like lifetimes ago, she would often echo this old wives’ tale about how it’s best to find your soulmate while you’re younger, just to save them- and yourself- the pain of being alone for a long time. Jack had always kind of believed her; logically, he knew it was true, but he had always told himself that it wouldn’t happen to him. That he would be fine alone, though it wouldn’t be ideal, and that he would have plenty of time for soulmates after he got out and made a name for himself.

He’s starting to think, though, that maybe she was right. Maybe Jack had waited too long to make a move, to make contact again, because now, he just feels nauseous even thinking about it.

Don’t get him wrong, he knows the negative effects of self deprecation and not taking his own mental health seriously, he’s been to rehab before, blah, blah, blah, but, fuck, how could he put his soulmate through something like this? This fucked up state of mind he has now. Jack can’t even imagine talking to Katherine about this, and Katherine had been his best friend for over a decade. He can’t just meet his soulmate now- it’s been too long, he’s too messed up, they won’t like him, they’ll hate him for not trying hard enough, and Jack will just end up alone again, wasting away in his bedroom because no one fucking cares. No one cares. He has nobody.

That’s not true. He has Medda, his mom, his savior, his impulse control, but the thought of telling her that everything is acting up again makes him want to scream. He has Tony, but Tony has Al, and Tony and Al have a kid- a sweet little five year old girl who calls Jack ‘Uncle Jackie’ and takes no shit from anyone. He has Katherine, but Katherine has her soulmate- this dude named Darcy, who Jack doesn’t have much of an opinion on because they just met, like, a month ago, and Jack hasn’t exactly been emotionally ready for a hangout session between the three of them. He also has Charlie, and Charlie has certainly seen him in worse times- like when Jack was kind of hooked on pills for the entirety their freshman year of college- but Charlie has grad school to worry about and Charlie would hate him if he bothered him with this.

Still, there are other people who would listen, probably. He could easily talk to Elmer, or Romeo, or Specs, or Jojo or Finch or Sean or a fucking therapist but that’s just it, isn’t it? If he talks, he burdens, and Jack Francisco Kelly would rather run himself into the ground than be a burden anyone.

So, he makes a vow.

He makes eye contact with his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s gripping onto the sink, holding on for dear life, as he stares into his own sunken eyes. He takes in his appearance. Damp, messy hair, falling down to cover his forehead. Pale skin, which isn’t normal at all. Dark circles have taken their place around his eyes, and his smile- one of his favorite things about himself- is… nonexistent.

Distantly, Jack registers himself dumping a full bottle of ibuprofen into the sink. And then, he does the same thing with the bottle of melatonin from his medicine cabinet. The valium follows. He lets the water run for a long time. It's not that he doesn't trust himself- he'd done so, so good in rehab, and he doesn't even feel urges that often anymore- but it's better safe than sorry, especially since he's like... this.

This is not the Jack Kelly he’s used to anymore. This is not the Jack Kelly he wants to be.

But this Jack Kelly is the one who vows not to reach out. The one who vows to only answer when his soulmate is ready, and maybe not even then.

He doesn’t have to wait long, though.

Not when a heart appears on the back of his hand the next morning.

It’s there when Jack wakes up, and, honestly, it almost brings Jack to tears- but not necessarily for happy reasons. Sure, Jack wants to be happy. Who wouldn’t be happy after seeing something like this? A lopsided heart drawn in red ink, right on the back of his left hand- it was the definition of a symbol, of a romantic gesture, and Jack wants so badly to write back, to strike up conversation, to draw a goddamn heart, but… he can’t.

He can’t, and that’s horrible of him, and he knows it.

Right now, though… Jack can’t even work up the courage, the energy, to call his mom.

His soulmate, whoever they are, is going to have to wait.

[ladylunasolis]

Zutara Week 2020 - Day 2 “Counterpart”

Thought I would take this a different route (and barely made it to post before the day is over in my time! pls forgive any errors lol).  My first modern/college AU for Zutara.

You can also read this on AO3 :)

Rating: G

Zuko shifted his stool forward, and adjusted the easel his canvas was on.  Blank white stared back at him.  Today, they would be having new live models coming in to start their final project for the quarter - and the best ones would be displayed at the university student art show.  They were working on portraits, different styles of painting one, and would have to submit a piece in their own style.  Whatever Zuko lacked in expressing emotion verbally, he always did his best to show it in his art.

One of the things that did challenge him about portraits specifically was working with other people and being responsible to get their feeling across.  Not one to back down from a challenge, Zuko had definitely worked hard and took extra practice to get a bit more comfortable.

He was feeling pretty confident to start this painting.  And then the new models walked in.

One lanky young man with wild hair strolled languidly to the side of the classroom as the curious whispers of the class continued on.  Zuko noted his eyebrows were in a shape he had never seen before, and it would probably be interesting to get them just right.  Next, a girl with chin-length brown hair and a pretty smile walked in talking to the last model.

If that first girl was pretty to Zuko, this last girl was stunning.  She had beautiful chestnut hair in gentle waves, golden skin, and surprisingly blue eyes to die for.  Zuko cleared his throat and scooted again to hide his face, an unexpected shyness hitting him.

Katara noticed him with the cough and shuffle behind the canvas.  She caught a golden eye surrounded by light pink peering at her before ducking back to start prep on what materials to use.  Gold?  She had never seen such a hue before.  Curiosity flit through her mind as she slipped her bag off and prepped to sit for this session.

Suki had told her about a way to get some extra credit for their shared class, and she had sat for a few photographers in the past so she didn’t mind helping out.  She hardly knew the guy with them, Jet, but he was nice enough.  He was definitely a smooth talker and had tried to kiss her once when they went out with Suki and other mutual friends, but he was only a fun distraction.

Bad boys were definitely a type she’s had, but Katara couldn’t help but wonder about the shy guy shielding himself from her.

Some time had passed and the professor went up to Zuko, regarding his art with an amused expression Katara could see.  “Zuko, you realize there are three people modeling, correct?”

Zuko’s face heated up and he took a moment to still himself and make his voice as steady as possible.  “Yeah, I’m just starting off with her since she’s closest to me.”  Zuko wanted the ground to swallow him whole, as quickly and inconspicuously as possible.  He looked up to the models once more and found the blue-eyed girl watching him, a small smile on her lips.

Zuko.  Katara had never heard that name before and despite that, she thought it would feel nice on her tongue.  She felt a bit self-conscious for a moment after realizing he was focused on her, and so she straightened up and shifted her shawl down a touch to show a little more bare shoulder.  She was flattered at his attention and Katara had always been a kind person.  She figured she could do a small kindness to be an interesting model, and help Zuko get a good grade.  The skill was all up to him but in a way, she felt like his partner in this project.

The class was coming to and end and she replaced the tank top strap back where it should be, and skirt over the workout shorts she had on for the class.  Zuko was completely hidden while gathering his own things and Katara was going to say hi to him until Suki grabbed her by the elbow.

“Sokka, Aang, and Toph are at White Lotus for happy hour!  They have shots waiting for us.”

“I think I-.”

“Uh-uh, I don’t wanna hear it, Katara.  We deserve it!”  Suki shot her a toothy grin which Katara always had a hard time being stern with.  She shot one last glance at Zuko who had his back to them, before letting herself get dragged out with a laugh.

Behind her retreating form, Zuko was packing his things when he heard her name.  A secret smile formed on his lips and he chuckled.  “Katara, huh?”  Beautiful.

The project continued on, as each class was only an hour long.  Zuko wasn’t so taken aback anymore and was able to keep his wits about him each time he saw Katara.  She always sat closest to him and it got to the point where she would give a smile to greet him, and he would return a small nod in return.  Katara was appreciative of the fact Zuko finally let himself show his whole face from behind the canvas.  It would have been a shame if she never had a chance to really see it — a light pink scar running on one side of his face and despite that he was still one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen.

On this day Katara’s ears piqued as the professor neared Zuko’s form.  Zuko had taken to standing up, and was close to the canvas, brush moving slowly.  The professor hummed and Zuko only turned to acknowledge him for a moment.  “Zuko this piece…there’s more feeling behind it than I’ve seen so far this quarter.”

Blue met gold for a split second and Zuko straightened up.  “Well, I guess you could say I was inspired.”

Ever the curious girl, those words triggered an even bigger desire to see this Zuko’s work.  That’s it, I’m talking to him today.  No matter what Suki has planned!  

And so Katara didn’t even wait to be fully dressed in her street clothes before going up to Zuko, zipping up her light jacket.  He startled when she greeted him.  “Hey!  Uh, how’s it going?”

How’s it going?  Really, Katara?  You have more game than that.  She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  But then again, I really don’t even know him as much as I know the back of his easel.

“Oh uh, hey,” Zuko scooted the easel to face the wall and neared her one a few short movements.  He shot her a lopsided smile.  Katara noted the brightness of his eyes.  “It’s going pretty good.  What about you?”  His movements didn’t go unnoticed and she aimed a pointed look at his easel before returning her eyes to him.

“Good,” she replied with a smile, tucking her hair behind her ears before offering her hand in a handshake.  “I’m Katara, the girl - or I guess - one of the girls you’ve been painting.”

Zuko took her hand and Katara noticed how warm his was.  It was also much more smooth than she thought it would be.  A little calloused and dry paint to the touch, but smooth.  “Hah yeah, nice to meet you.  I’m Zuko.”  He ran his other hand through his hair absentmindedly and got a spot of blue in his locks.  Katara giggled and pointed it out.

“You got a little…”  His eyes widened, then he looked down at his hand and rolled his eyes.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, grabbing a cloth to wipe himself, small blush on his face.  “You would think I would be used to it by now after painting for so long.”

“Well don’t worry, I think blue actually kinda suits you,” Katara quipped.  The ghost of another smile passed over his lips before she continued on.  “From what your professor said it sounds like your painting’s going well!  I’ve been so curious to see it…”

Katara took a step towards the easel, and Zuko stepped in front of her with his hands up, sheepish grin on his face.  “Sorry, it’s practically done but I kinda have this thing about my subjects seeing a work in progress…”

“Oh, like bad luck or something?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow and crossing her arms, smirking up at him.  Boy, he was definitely taller than her.  And she couldn’t place the scent, but he smelled good even with a paint apron on.  Zuko thought a moment and shook his head, deliberately picking each word to answer.

“I want to keep my subject’s emotions as genuine and authentic as possible.  I’m still learning all this too, but in the past when I’ve had to practice, sometimes a person starts to think they should sit a certain way or have their face be a certain way.  But the thing I’m really starting to like about portraits is capturing who they really are in those moments, the small moments they let their guard down and let me into their world.  It’s my job to interpret that onto canvas.”  Zuko paused as Katara remained silent and laughed.  “That’s the first time I’ve said that out loud before.  Seems a little more weird than it sounded it my head.”

Katara shook her head.  “No, I don’t think it’s weird at all.  When you put it like that, it does make sense.  Every artist has their way of doing things, right?  So this is your thing.  I can respect that.”  She gave him a smile, softer this time, before turning away.  “I guess I just wish I could see it somehow when it’s done.”

Zuko hesitated as she began to talk to Suki, who had been talking to his classmate Ty Lee.  He just finally spoken to Katara and is that how he was going to leave it?  She was almost out of the classroom when he called out to her.

“Katara!”

The sound of a new voice calling her name made her turn quicker, to see Zuko making his way over to her and Suki.  Her friend shot her a look and actually took the cue to give her a little bit of space — though still listening intently.

“Thursday is the last day we’ll be doing this project, and after that we’ll be submitting to a panel.  If my work does get picked, how about we go to the art show together so I can tell you all about it.”  Katara noted it was as if Zuko had decided on something in the few moments between their conversation and now.  Even the last words he said weren’t really a question, more so a request.  She felt a flutter in her chest as she nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”  And Zuko’s smile widened.

A little over a week later, she arrived at the show to meet Zuko, who had been there early to set up.  Suki had bombarded her with questions about that black haired hottie after she made sure they exchanged numbers.  During the last session, Katara did her best to keep in mind what Zuko had said.  She just let herself be and stopped worrying.  She even exchanged a few smiles with the boy behind the canvas, a few jokes after class.

Not long after she sent the “I’m here” text, she heard him call her name.  I could get really get used to that.  “Hey, I’m glad you made it!”

“Of course, I wasn’t going to miss this!”  She really meant it and he gave her a lopsided grin, guiding her along with a hand barely brushing her back.  “I’ve been way too curious.”

“I’m sure you have been,” he replied, nervous once more.  He had never revealed his art to someone like this before and he wasn’t sure how it was going to go.  He brought her to a wall set up with the light focusing on the singular canvas displayed in this section.  “Here it is.”

Katara’s lips parted as her mouth dropped.  Suki and Jet were painted on the right and left sides of the canvas, respectively, and there she was in the middle and larger than the other two.  They were all full body in the frame but her’s was definitely the center.  Brilliant blues of all different shades surrounded all of them and it was almost as if they were windswept, or perhaps underwater would be the best way to describe it with how her hair floated around her.  She looked ethereal, she was glowing, she was happy, she was…Katara didn’t even know she could look like this.

Zuko stood next to her, waiting with bated breath.  Katara looked up at him almost speechless.  “How did you…get all of that from me just sitting there?”

Zuko shrugged and looked up at his painting.  “I guess…that’s just how I saw you.  That’s how you looked in my eyes.”

“Zuko, it’s…it’s beautiful.  It’s really lovely, and I don’t know much about art but everyone is so well done,” she managed to get out, finally coming down from her surprise.  Zuko looked down at her at his side and smirked.

“I couldn’t have done it without you to inspire me.”  Katara and blushed and mumbled something of gratitude and Zuko couldn’t help but think about how adorable she looked.  “So, what questions do you have?”

Thank you for reading!

[drawmealama]

Painting Tutorial

Disclaimers !!! (important)

I’m not an expert or teacher.

There is an infinite number of ways you can paint. THERE IS NO WRONG WAY TO PAINT! This is how I do it / how I was taught to do it.

I’m doing this (during mars 2020) because I’m getting restless during the global quarantine. If you want to paint but you don’t have the supplies: PLEASE don’t go out to buy supplies. This is not a necessity so please stay safe. Also, if you’re considering buying art supplies on the internet ask yourself if it is necessary (like if you have an assignment/it’s part of your job/...) and try to minimize the strain on delivery services for non-essential supplies.

This post will still exist in a few months. I’ll even self-reblog it at the end of the lockdown so that, if you’re still interested, it’ll be here.

I’m going to make fan art for @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels​ (madsthenerdygirl on AO3) and her witcher fic “Even Steel Blades Need Fire” that you can find here.

I’m trying to make a non-spoiler piece, but I’ll talk about the fic (so spoilers!) during the process. If you have not read her fic and you don’t want to get spoiled, go read it before you continue.

I started painting two years ago, and I remember vividly my struggles in the beginning. Painting can be confusing, and I am going to assume that people with no experience are going to read this.

I’ll be explaining the painting process in-depth so LONG POST (I guess) and stay tuned for updates !!! (yay)

I think that’s all. 

Let’s start !!!

Here we have it all! All the supplies (and some) I use when painting with acrylic paint.

First, note that you don’t need all these supplies to paint. Most of the time I do it with less, but this is a tutorial so...

1. Paper

Good news, you don't need to have a canvas to paint !!! You can just use paper (cool right?!).

Any size is ok, but I prefer to paint big (this paper here is on the smaller side. I usually paint on “grand aigle” paper or “double grand aigle”. Which translates to “great (?) eagle”. Look it up!). 

Here I’ll be using a 65x50 cm piece (called “format raisin”/ “grapes format”...)

I advise to use 200gms (or 200g/m2) or more but 180g can work too.

225gms and 250gms are my personal favourites.

2. Something to protect the surface you are painting on. 

when I started painting I was super messy. I had no control over the paintbrush/the paint/etc..

I recommend using something (cardboard, plastic bag (not the best...), or newspaper) to cover up where you're going to paint. 

The smaller your paper, the more likely you are to spill paint next to it.

On that note, when I started painting I used to wear a chemistry lab coat to protect my clothes. 

It can save you when you least expect it (read: the whole bottle of paint falls and explodes everywhere). Now I stopped doing that (bad) but I don't really care about my clothes and also painting in your underwear when you're alone is fun.

remember to remove any jewellery (RINGS!!!) (you don't want to scrape off dried paint of off jewellery).

Don't wear gloves. (acrylic paint washes of with soap and hot water). Plus gloves are going to make your hands sweat and I don't recommend wearing them for long periods.

have a towel nearby or something at your disposal (but only use old stuff. you will probably never get all the paint stains off. I use my old lab coat.)

where you are painting is important too. When I started painting I liked using an easel. If you don't have an easel, that's ok. I don't have access to one during this quarantine business, so I'm doing sans-easel.

Also, I prefer to paint on the ground or on a table (depending on the cleanness of the ground and the paper size. if it's too big for one table, I sometimes use two side by side but it's not really practical).

Also with bigger papers, an easel can be impractical = you can't reach the top/bottom easily and you tire very easily.

Here is something my teacher used to tell us: 

“Don't sit on a chair.”

Explanation: when using a chair your paintings tend to look "tired" or "sloppy" (Idk how to describe it, but for better results try to stand up)

however if you are doing:

a big piece

painting for a long time

or you have medical issues that make standing up for a long time painful

 then I recommend either having a chair nearby to take "sitting" breaks or painting on the ground.

In all cases take breaks! 

Second advice from my teacher: 

“Don't listen to music while you paint.”

Explanation: when painting you want to avoid "coloring" with brushstrokes that go left-right and up-down all the time. when listening to your music you will unintentionally start following the rhythm of the music with your strokes and making them repetitive. Similarly, I noted that I'm slower when listening to music because I tend to focus more on the music than on what I am painting.

BUT, I know someone who makes these beautiful, giant paintings on bedsheets, which take like weeks to complete and with lots of details. And guess what? Not only does she sit down but she also listens to music while doing so.

In conclusion, it's up to you. but if you struggle painting: try sitting down/standing up/ taking more breaks/ turn on/off your music...

3. Paint pallets

Ok, so here again it's up to personal preferences.

you can use a

plastic/wood/glass pallet (that you re-use every time)

or you can use

disposable paint pallets/a piece of cardboard/paper plates (that you reuse a couple of times before throwing away).

At first, I started to use plastic pallets but I kept trying to clean them at the end of each lesson and I was losing so much time... (note: I found that bigger pallets with no little "holes" work the best).

Problems:

If the paint is dry it’s super difficult to get it off without soap or other types of cleaning products.

You use a lot of water to clean it and paint gets in the sewers.

An alternative is disposable pallets like on the picture (or cardboard/paper plates). you don't have to clean them, it's super cheap/free and a lot lighter.

Problems:

you can't use them forever and will need to throw it away (or recycle them into weird paintings).

If you use straight-up cardboard and try to mix a lot of water in your paint it will make a mess and destroy your pallet.

4. Water dish

Anything that holds water and that you don't use to drink is ok. Remember you will probably never get all the paint off.

5. Paintbrushes

Okay, this is the weird part where I tell you that "paintbrush" is "pinceau" in french and that the word comes from the Latin  "penicillum" which means "small tail" or "penis". Also, there's this text (of which I don't remember de name or the author) but it discusses the implication of artist's preferences for certain types of paintbrushes when you compare them to penises and it's silly and fun but now I need to talk about the paintbrushes I use and I don't want to make this awkward, so just forget what I just wrote there.

Let's see. I grouped and ranked each brush from A to G depending on how much I use them.

A) My personal favourites, that I use all the time: they are mostly round brushes.

There's a big one that's actually to paint walls but works well when I need to cover big surfaces

then a few tiny/flats with rounded tips for detail (called ”Filbert”)

a couple of medium/rounds 

and this flat squared tipped (called “Flat” or “Bright”) for when I need to get clean edges.

B) Medium/flat and square tipped brushes I use the same way as the big round.

C) These ones I use when the others are already in use and I need a clean brush. the problem is that some of them have these synthetic bristles that are super bendy and I don't like it.

D) Some more small brushes for detail. I sometimes use them for watercolour because they can hold a lot of water. See how they have a shorter handle? Long handle = for easel painting (because then you can get further away). The small handle = not for easel painting.

To be honest I don't really care. it's not super important (but I prefer the long handle ones).

E) These are really tiny small round brushes that can be used for even smaller detail (but I don't use them a lot).

F) I never use this paintbrush. the bristles are super soft and fur-like and see how they're pointing outward instead of inwards, and don’t make a point? yeah, I can't do anything with that.

G) Please, PLEASE, for the love of god do not use these types of brushes with acrylic paint. they're for ink painting and calligraphy and other stuff. They're super expensive and a pain to wash. I've seen people use them with paint and I don't judge but personally, it just feels wrong to use them with paint.

General tips to keep in mind when buying brushes:

Size matters.

The bigger the better.

Hog bristles = texture + (in general) better quality + stiffer

Synthetic or nylon bristles = cheaper + bendier + smoother finish.

If you are getting a pack of brushes try to look for one with more of the bigger brushes than smaller ones.

You don't need every size but you need a couple under 10, one or two around 20 and one 30 or 40.

Brushes are expensive. Like, think book price range (where I buy them they are around 15 euro or around 20 euro).

Any free brush is a good brush.

Handles don't matter.

General tips to care for brushes:

Wash your brushes.

Use soap (dish soap is fine). I've seen people use shampoo and I'm sure it works but for acrylic paint (= water-based paint), it's a bit overkill.

Let them dry laying flat.

Don't let them sit too long in the water. you don't want to weaken the wood or glue or metal that is holding everything together.

Handles don't matter (just keep a picture or a reference of your brush before it gets covered in paint and you can't tell what size/brand it is anymore).

6. Paint

The fun part!

Here are the colours I am going to use (I'm not using all the colours i have and I tried to make a varied but coherent pallet).

(from top to bottom, left to right.)

Titanium White (neo acryl, Gerstaecker, 102)

Black (neo acryl, Gerstaecker,704)

Prussian blue phthalo (acrylic standard series, Amsterdam all acrylics, 566)

Quinacridone pink (I love art, Gerstaecker, 350)

Reflex rose (I love art acrylic, Gerstaecker, 384)

Primary yellow (acrylic standard series, Amsterdam all acrylics, 275)

Raw sienna (acrylic standard series, Amsterdam all acrylics, 234)

Burnt sienna (acrylic standard series, Amsterdam all acrylics, 411)

Burnt umber (acrylic standard series, Amsterdam all acrylics, 409)

Vandyke brown (acrylic standard series, Amsterdam all acrylics, 403)

Carmine (acrylic standard series, Amsterdam all acrylics, 318)

General tips to keep in mind when buying paint, or how to choose colours when you don't want to spend too much on paint:

You CAN NOT paint with only primary colours !!!

NO magenta (it's like using 100% red. Also paint is pigment not light so magenta does not equal red)

Get more white and black paint (you can start with small quantities but these two getts used the most. I've also seen people buy "handyman paint" in white to get large quantities for cheaper but I never tried before.)

Pick darker colours over lighter ones

and pick lighter colours over mid-tones (I will go over this later when I start painting)

If you're like me and don't have tons of money to spend on paint, avoid paints with double colour names like "greenish-yellow", get yellow and get green and get white and then mix! (so you have green, yellow and everything in-between...)

When in doubt pick colours with:

fancy names (royal blue, ultramarine blue,...)

natural pigments names (cobalt, carmine, sienna,..)

well known names (TITANIUM white !!!)

artist’s names (Vandyke brown, Klein blue, ...)

Exciting and unusual names (what intrigues you? If you go: wtf is "Quinacridone pink?", "Phthalocyanine emerald"  "Vermillon?", then pick that.)

I know I said don't use primary colours but you NEED to mix colours. Go crazy! (note: straight from the tube colour can be used but in moderation or with good reasons..)

BUT You NEED brown, don't try to make it yourself

you DON'T need purple (I'll explain later)

(fluorescent colours can give you unexpected results when mixing. (I bought the fluorescent pink thinking I'd only use a small amount but now I'm kinda running out. And I don't even like pink that much...))

7. Something to pin down your paper

You only need this if you are going to work on something not horizontal.

Any type of pins (that can support the weight of the paper)

repositionable tape

or any kind of masking tape (that does not ruin paper when removed)

8. references

(The references on the picture are from another project.)

If you're not painting from life I recommend printing out your references over just having it on your phone or laptop or any screen, because

when you print them you are using pigment 

and then when you are painting you're looking at pigment and not pixels/light.

So it's actually easier to SEE the colors you have to use (and it can improve your results when painting with PIGMENT).

Also, try to print them as big as you can.

Right now I don't have a printer with me and I can't, like, get it printed or anything (not only because of the lockdown but because this is witcher stuff I'm going to make so I'm going to need reference photos of the actors and everything... yeah, no).

I'm just going to have my refs on a screen...

Hope some of you made it this far. If so, congratulation!

(I tried to make this as clear as possible (English is not my first language and I struggle with writing)).

[handmadecp]

‘Leaf’ Pouch, full Build along.

Hi guys, This week I’ve been busy with lots of little projects, all of which I will show on here all in good time. Also busy right now trying to go Self Employed with this which takes forever to sort out here in the uk because there ‘is’ help...but not much and what there is takes a long time to get, anyhoooo, moving on to the fun stuff. Some of you may have seen a few W.i.P’s added to keep you all up to date on whats actually going on, I hope you are enjoying the short snap shots through out the week, I thought it might grab your interest and also just to give you a quick taster of the coming blog.  So here it is, the ‘Leaf’ pouch build. This build is ok to try if you are a beginner...but probably more suits people wo have had some experience with stitching, dying, cutting with a swivel knife and tooling. I am now four years into my Journey into this amazing craft but still learning new stuff all the time, so although there will be projects that may seem a bit advanced for Beginners, I will still be alternating between the ‘Beginner’ projects, intermediate and advanced ( As I learn more I will share.) So , lets get on. I First Purchased for about £3.50 (Uk) from a great Lady goes by the name of ‘Downtoearthcreations’ you can find her on Youtube she is a prolific maker and sells some great patterns and has build along tutorials I’d advise you to go have a look, I then down loaded the Pattern.

First go to Downtoearthcreations on youtube, find the Leaf bag tutorial video and the purchase this pattern, it’s not expensive and is very easy to follow.

I then cut all the pieces out as shown here and stuck them together where needed with decorators paper tape....why?...coz that’s what I had, no other reason. then Transfer the pattern shapes to the leather of your choice, I used a 2-3 mm veg tan, it takes tooling well, but just be careful, it’s not very thick, don’t press the swivell knife too hard or else it will go right through, how do I know this...guess. Well that’s not hard to guess, Yes I cut through my first one, I’ve always said I will mention successes and failures on here, it’s the only way to learn I think.

For any really ‘New’ people who maybe don’t know yet what ‘Casing’ means I’ll quickly explain, it just means ‘wetting’ the leather to a ‘certain’ point of saturation..NOT..completely saturated as you might do for wet molding, but that’s a whole other thing. so for now just wet it evenly, whenever I wet leather I usually wet it all over , even the areas that I won’t be tooling, I have learned from other more experienced folk that if you only wet the area you need, you can end up with a ‘tide’ line and the water actually does darken the leather so when you come to dye it the will be a difference in shade between the area that was wetted and the one that wasn’t. some people don’t mind it...but personally, I wet it all over, your choice. Then you have to leave it until it almost looks dry again, then it’s ready for cutting and tooling. First you need to draw your veins on the leaf, you can free hand this part if you are confident enough or trace the given pattern with a ball point stylus tool or similar to get the pattern on the leather, then, use the swivell knife to cut in your design, adding any extra veins or cuts you might like. Take a Pear shader tool as shown above and using the bigger edge..’smash’...in a controlled way...the edges of the leaf as shown above..

Here you can see how I’ve gone all around the edges and basically flattened them, also here the ‘veins’ have been cut into the leather it’s now ready to tool it. You can leave it exactly like this as it will still look great but for a little extra ‘depth’ to the design I’m tooling mine.

Here I’ve decided after several ‘Coats of Looking at’..that I wanted the veins to really stand out so made a second cut as seen here,

Once the veins are all tooled with the beveler (Number B802) I dampened it a bit more..not a lot as before because it still retains some moisture and I just want to mould it a bit not soak it. (This molding is completely different to ‘Wet Molding’ as such, as with wet moulding you are shaping pouches and bags etc...this is just a thin leaf. If you do think you have over watered it, just leave it to dry off for a while at room temprature, don’t try putting it in the oven or under the grill or using a heat gun..as you will make it solid and brittle...again..yes..I know because I’ve done just that in the past, luckily..I do learn from my mistakes. I then manipulates the leaf into a more acceptable shape, I did this several times before getting a shape that pleased me.

Look closely you will notice I added some small ‘cuts’, just my own preference, you decide what you want if making one of these yourself.

I Layed down lots of paper, got myself gloved up, had some paper towels and old cloths handy, a small tub of water and a sponge, then I got out the Gel Antique dye, made by Eco-Flo. I decided on a Dark Brown. Couple of things here if you’ve never used Gel Antique dyes...firstly get some gloves on because this stuff will dye you and take weeks of hard scrubbing to get off. secondly, this is expensive stuff..for a reason, it actually works. I love it, but you have to get a whole bunch of it on your sponge to then spread it on your piece in circular motion as fast as you can..because then you need to get off the eccess with your towels, the reason is because the antique dyes go darker the longer its on, so get it on...get it off, if not dark enough for you then repeat until it is. this stuff also buffs up really nice. A good video on YT to watch is by a guy called Chuck Dorset at Weaver Leather Craft , go watch him first if you’ve never done this before. If it all looks a bit dark when you’ve finished don’t worry, antique gel dyes can be toned down by wiping with a ‘Damp’ cloth or sponge until it is a shade you like. You also don’t want this stuff on your clothes or furniture...you have been warned ( hahahaha ). Good luck...the  results are worth it.

See how it’s getting lighter as it dries out.

I Like to use a piece of Canvas cloth to buff up my projects, it almost Burnishes them as seen here. note how I’ve twisted some of the ends of the leaf points, the Lady at Backtoearthcreations taught me that neat little trick on her YT video...once again..I advise you go have a look you’ll enjoy it.

So now we need to think about the stitch holes, I’ve used quite a wide gapped stitch iron as you can see on the following pic’, this is so that when it’s stitched we get the ‘style’ that I want. keep going you’ll see at the end. First I put stitch holes in the front piece, then laid that in position and made the first four holes just to give me the opposite position. I did use a Divider to draw a line to keep my stitch holes straight if you zoom in on the next pic you can see the line, this will be hidden by the thread when finished.

I have also made a strap loop which comes with the pattern, my advice...make it slightly longer so that a 2″ belt will fit through it. it’s ok as is...if you just rivit it ‘flat’ but if you want the extra ‘look’ you get from bending the strap over as shown here it can get a bit tight...your choice. I used a couple antique brass rivits top and bottom to hold it in place. Oh..nearly forgot, by this stage I had already coated with resolene to ‘fix’ the dye, but I guess you can do it at the end too. I dyed the flap side of the pouch on the inside dark because if you twist the leaf points you can see the ‘flesh’ color, didn’t want that, but I left the inside of the front peace ‘flesh’ colored and untouched so that when searching in the pouch in bad light it helps to light the inside of the pouch a little, just another little tip I got from someone far more experienced which I’m happy to pass on to you. I would have left it all flesh colored if not for the leaf points.

I decided to use an antique brass snap stud as a fastener for this pouch, so punch the hole BEFORE you start putting it all together...it’s just easier. ( guess how I know ???...hahahaha...yup you guessed it..what can I say..I didn’t have people pointing this stuff out to me, but hopefully by sharing my mistakes it will save you from doing the same thing..)

Not everyone has a snap stud fitting machine but the hand tools are easy to learn.

Starting to look like a pouch a bit more now.

So, all the pieces are almost ready, just the Gusset to make now, I chose a soft leather in Maroon color as seen here, again I drew a line about a quarter inch in as a stitch hole guide. The gusset section is deliberately cut a bit longer than needed and will be trimmed once done.

Finally it’s time to stitch it all together, I chose a veg tan flesh colored Lace and I had to stitch it all by hand with nothing more than a scratch awl to widen the holes. ( As I didn’t have the necessary Flat Lacing needle at the time ) but I personally enjoy stitching without a needle. so, I lined up the gusset, at this point you may do well to have the ‘Down to earth’ Leaf Bag Tutorial on as she demonstrates quite well how to begin the stitch which is a little difficult for me to explain on here. Ok, so once you’ve watched how she starts the stitch off you are basically ‘away’ and just keep going to the end and tie off as shown on the YT instructional video.

Here you can see the scratch awl in my hand whilst I’m ‘gently’ pulling the Lacing tight. Use good quality lace as there’s nothing more annoying than it keep snapping when you tighten it.

Really starting to come together now, the contrast between the Maroon and the antique colors is amazing...well, to me at least. Here now you can see why I used a wide gap stitching iron for the holes, it leaves a nice gap between each stitch which adds to the over all look of the project.

Here I’m trying to show how I finished off the stitching on this side of the gusset. as I came through with the last four stitches I pulled extra thread through so I could widen them on the inside allowing me to back thread the lace as shown here, I then pulled it through and snipped it off.

Then I went back and pulled all of the four stitched tight to hold the cut off end tightly. there are more than four widened here but as you saw I threaded it through four, you can do two if you like but I felt that four would hold better.

I then just snipped the end .

I slotted it in place and ‘snapped it closed just to get an idea how it was looking and have to say I was very happy at this point.

Then it was on to side two.

Annnnd..’Voila’ one really nice Leaf Bag / Pouch suitable for every day wear if you are into that sort of thing, or Renaissance / Larping / fancy Dress / medievel / basically any kind of costume event even Steam Punk if you just added some Steam punky bits to it. Well guys there you have it another little project from our new workshop, many more still to come, I’ll keep showing little snap shots through out the week to give a taste of whats going on in the w/shop just to show what I’m getting up to. Hope you have enjoyed this build along set, also hope you have a go yourself and as always I’m free to answer any questions and always happy to receive constructive advice. I’m still not professional, still learning and still sharing it all after nearly four years...yes my little Blog will be four years old next month. Till next time then, Stay crafty and watch this space.

[smellysluna]

Phase 1: BLUE | Peter Parker | Soulmate AU!

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Series: Additive Colors 

Warning(s): this story is set between Homecoming and Infinity War, swear words, badass reader.

Word count: 1.8K

Side note: heyyy, it’s been a long time since i’ve posted something online, but i hope you enjoy this <3 

Peter blasted web after web at Queens' buildings. After Liz left because of him (even if she wasn’t his soulmate, he liked her anyway), his patrols as friendly neighborhood Spider-Man became crude, crass. The streets had no taste, no color until everything around him changed in an instant. 

He crashes into a supply lorry, denting it just slightly. Peter stood up the instant he hit the ground oblivious to the worried bystanders. 

I need to get somewhere high.

Peter's mind activated autopilot the moment a balcony came into his shaky view. His stiff feet landed on the balcony's rail. He seemed a panther looking for its prey amidst the jungle —a spider waiting for the fly to get trapped in its webs. He searched for a person instead of prey. What he felt the moment his life did a one-eighty was exactly what he was hunting —perplexity. 

A girl struggling for breath chasing colors appeared under his eyes and his blurry view cleared. The people pulsed around her, they were fast-paced whilst she had no pace whatsoever.

Peter can't remember landing in front of her but he faced the girl anyways. Without any first words or glances, he picked her up and shot a spider-web to the top of a building. It took a moment for the girl to assess the case at hand. Usually, she'd be the one striking the first word —and as a bad habit, she’d get the last word too— but this time her mind went numb. To distract herself from the suited hero in front of her, she stared at the sky —a thing she could never appreciate before. In the corner of her eye, she sensed him imitating her. The question throbbed in her mind, in her throat, and on her tongue. If the answer to her question were "yes"... What would it mean to him? What would it mean to her? What would it mean to both of them?

Too many feelings at once. I think there was a word to describe the churning in my stomach.

Spider-Man stared at the blank canvas painted on the girl beside him. Her gaze set on a distant cloud the moment Karen pulled out her personal details. The boy behind the mask assumed he shared the same emotions as the girl next to him. His brows kept knitted together as he read the girl's file. With difficulty, a gulp passed through his tight throat.

"You're... seeing the same thing, right?" It was unusual for Peter to take the first step but the more he read her file... the more he urge to know if she was... the one.

"Blue, the sky's blue." A pause before indulging in her dramatics. "It's haunting to realize just now the beauty of the wild blue yonder which was over our heads all this time." She hasn't stared at him yet, the jetting jaw painfully clear in his sight. "I'm at a loss for words. My soulmate being Spider-Man and all that —God I really hope you're a teenager." 

He carefully watched her every moving muscle. Still, he can't grasp the instant she faced him. For once, Peter felt as if someone were looking right through his mask and into his eyes.

The words sunk in and he felt his body heat up. "No! No! Don't worry! I'm... I'm not some creepy-old-man, I swear! I go to Midtown —ah! Shouldn't have said that. Forget I said that. Mr. Stark would dissect me if he knew I said that." The girl couldn't stop the laughter that crawled through her lungs as she stared at the hero's wobbling arms. "Karen, no! Delete that footage! Oh my God, Mr. Stark cannot hear that."

"Karen?" She managed through giggles.

Peter stared at her amusing raised brow, her smile reaching the eyes. The sight made him smile too.

He somewhat regained his calm composure after Karen erased the footage. "Artificial intelligence built-in the suit."

"Did you develop her?" He couldn't fail to notice the spark in her eyes the moment he mentioned the AI.

"No, uh, Mr. Stark did." He almost experienced a hard attack when Karen announced to Spider-Man a message from Tony Stark which said he was on the street under his apartment. "Oh, God, I want to stay here and get to know you but right now Mr. Stark needs me."

A pang went through his chest at her disappointing stare.

"Listen, you're not supposed to know who I am. So we'll just have to get to know each other this way." He pointed at his mask with both pointer fingers. "We'll make it work — I think."

"Can you tell me at least your name?"

"Sorry." He hugged her. 

"I'll swing by your place when I get time. See ya, (Y/N)."

In a blink, he was gone. Spider-Man didn’t even need to ask her name, she was sure that he even knew where she lived in an instant. A shiver ran through her spine.

(Y/N) doesn't know how she managed to stay on her legs for so long without trembling. But the moment he disappeared, she instantly laid in the on the cold floor. The sky was still blue. Her brows knitted together but then relaxed and closed her eyes. 

This is unfair... How come you get to know my name but I can't get yours.

A smirk painted on her face as a light bulb lit up in her mind. 

Spider-Man, you might think you’re smart and mysterious. But the joke’s on you, I’m smart and mysterious too. 

*******

It was too quiet in my apartment, the atmosphere more stuffy than usual. The dirt on the floor indicated that a person was here. On guard, I walk into the living room. The breath in my lungs got kicked out and in less than a second, I was on the floor with someone choking me. 

A normal person would be scared in my place. But I am not an average girl. My situation is self-explanatory and it takes just one name: Jessica Jones.

Jessica taught me no mercy, Jessica forced me independence, Jessica trained me to take care of myself, better said: Jessica’s small group of Defenders beat the crap out of me — which made me tough. 

Jessica took me in after my parents’ death and she’s taken care of me since then. The other Defenders appeared later on. In the beginning, Jess taught me self-defense and sometimes she’d break some of my bones by letting her real strength slip through. 

“It’s how it is in the real world,” she’d say. “If you’re lucky, of course.” And the moment I’d hit the floor, she’d kick my obliques ready to kill. “If it’s an average day… they won’t hesitate.” She’d kick again. “That’s why you won’t hesitate either.”

The Defenders weren’t around for long. Still, I learned many things from them. Every one of them had their own style to teach and none was better than the other. Jessica taught me to endure the pain; Danny (Iron Fist) taught me to control my inner calm; Matt (Daredevil) taught me to concentrate; Luke taught me to manage my strength. Actually, Luke let me hit him as hard as I wanted so I had a human punching bag.

Jess never wanted me to live with her —she made it very clear. The moment she was sure I could manage, she got me an apartment in Queens and told me to enroll at Midtown School —a nerd school. I thought she was kidding and scoffed at the idea, but her lack of humor seemed obvious. After I went through Jessica’s stuff (once... on several occasions), the reason she wanted me to go to Midtown became clear: an offer to attend the school personally written by the principal. I ignored Jessica and enrolled in Queens Metropolitan High School.

But discovering that Spider-Man, my soulmate, goes to Midtown creates a twist in my life. Guess I’ll have to put up with the nerds for some time. 

Transferring really seemed quick and simple given that it’s the school’s department that carries out the process. But then again, we’re talking about nerds. It took me less than a week to get all the papers right. And since nerds like everything neat, I could start on Monday.

I had really been pushing my feelings to the back of my head. But what am I actually going to do after I find my soulmate? Improvisation was my go to plan. 

Anyways… what was I doing again? Oh yeah! Getting strangled.

Jessica’s face came into perfect view and her look betrayed intent to kill. She was between my thighs, her grip on my neck firm. It only takes her six seconds to make me unconscious. I don’t let her. My body switches to muscle memory at this point. 

Cross grip.

Shoulder-blade.

Foot on hip.

Turn.

Boom. 

Forward thrust with hips.

“Shit!” Jessica hurriedly skidded from me. “Why’d you break my arm for!?” We both knew it didn’t hurt as it should. And instead of pain traveling through her voice, it was indignation.

I scoffed, “you had worse.” I waved my hand dismissively before plopping on my sofa. “And I broke your elbow, not your arm —you’re the one who taught me.”

“Not that,” she grimaced.

Jess settled casually right next to me. I glanced at her elbow, knowing damn well she wasn’t going to get it treated properly —neither of us cared.

“So you’re finally listening to me.” I knew what she meant, Midtown. “Don’t want to admit it? Alright.” She stood up, her broken elbow long forgotten. The cork-board on the wall catches her attention. “You’re still into this?” She plays with one of the strings. She trails her finger across the string that’s different than the rest. “What does Spider-Man have to do with any of this?” I forgot Jess was able to recognize the colors on the board, all of them. Jess still loves Luke and it shows.

“The string’s blue.” Her body turned faster than I could imagine. 

“When did this happen?” To ever understand what Jessica meant, you always had to look at the big picture. It was annoying at first but it helped to analyze the bigger picture in everything else.

“Like a week ago. I don’t know who’s under the mask... yet.”

“Yet?”

“The only thing I know right now is that he’s enrolled at Midtown.”

She scuffed, “figures.” Her gaze shifted back to the board. “And Spider-Man’s connected to Tony Stark in what way?”

“I don’t know but it’s obvious that there’s some connection.”

She stared at the center of it all: a picture of me. “A piece of advice: don’t do anything that I would.”

“Yes, mum.” Mockery. One stare was enough to know she wasn’t a fan of it. 

I didn’t matter who she was, I wasn’t planning on listening to reason anytime soon.

[sceawere]

another time pt.28 | alfie solomons

dun, duN, DUUUUNNNNNN

“Alfie won’t let me go and see him at the jail. That means he got beat up, right?” you asked, head resting on the back of the chair as you slumped down.

“Probably, yeah. Punched and sporting a right shiner at the least” Rachel agreed, and your sigh turned into a groan, reaching up to wipe at your tired eyes. You’d barely slept since the arrest, since the delivery. It’d been nearly a week and you weren’t feeling any braver.

“How’re the businesses doing?” she asked, and you hummed “That a good hum or a bad hum?”

“They’re ticking along. I’m apparently good at this. Plus- “you sat up and drained the tea you’d been ignoring, grimacing when you realised it was tepid. You wiped off your mouth “Alfie has an ‘in case I get locked up’ protocol, which…kind of does a lot of the work for me. I’m basically here to make sure it’s working and shout at people when it doesn’t”

She smiled at you, tapping your hand. You turned it over, holding her in your grasp.

“This is why I do nothing” she explained, and you scoffed.

“That’s because you’re smarter than I am, clearly” you picked up your plates and moved to the sink “Have you been to see-?”

“No. We don’t do that” she explained, and you nodded, even with your back to her.

“They have to sort out a trial soon, or let them go, so…not long now until we know the next move” she continued, and you nodded again.

“Here, I’ll do them” she pushed her chair back when you stared down into the sink without doing anything for too long. The wood skidding on the tile and she sidled up, knocking you out of the way lightly. You breathed a laughed, nodding softly as you walked back over to grab your jacket.

“Go provide for the family, Mrs Solomons. We’ll have your tea ready when you get back” she winked over her shoulder to you, and you smiled, waving as you exited the too-empty kitchen.

The whole house was too quiet. Bucket wasn’t her normal self, skulking about. Pickles was constantly whining and curling up in Alfie’s chair. You all got on with it but if the boys didn’t come home soon, you were going to go up the wall.

-

“Overnights” one of Alfie’s faceless men passed you the papers as you entered the bakery. He kept pace as you forged ahead, plopping yourself down in Alfie’s chair, and pouring over the figures.

“You’re…Benny?” you asked, dragging the end out as uncertainty settled in you.

“Yeah, miss” he replied with a chuckle.

“Sorry. There’s so many of you, and it’s dark in here, and everyone’s- “you fluttered your hand around “But you’re Benny, now. I know that”

You looked back down at the paper.

“What happened with the last delivery?” you asked, noting the lack of check on the list.

“Tire blew out. It’s fixed now, they went out with it this morning. Stuck an extra crate in to cover the cracks” he explained, and you nodded.

“Everything’s…ticking along fine then” you decided, dropping back in the chair.

“I’ll…get to the crates” he nodded towards the factory floor and you hummed. He was still in the doorway though, as you wiped a finger over your lips, staring across at the picture on the desk of Alfie’s mum and dad “Miss?”

You lifted your head, meeting eyes with the young man.

“Yes, Benny?”

He paused, mouth opening and closing.

“Spit it out, I’m not the big man, I won’t clap your ears” you joked, and he laughed, nodding.

“I was here. When you were- “he pointed out towards you, his cap folded in his hands “away that night”

“When I got clinked up?” you elaborated with a soft smile, and he bounced a brow. He shoved his hands down the pocket of his overalls.

“Big man was going mad. Shouting at everyone. Phone didn’t get put down long enough to go cold again. You’re handling it better than he was” he shrugged with a smile, and you laughed.

“Yeah, well. He’s a soppy git” he replied, eyes dropping again.

“He’ll be out soon” he insisted, and you lifted them, meeting his gaze.

“How old are you, Benny?” you asked.

“Seventeen” he explained, and you gave an audible ‘ugh’. He laughed, and then frowned.

“You’re a baby, and you’re all sweet, and…you work in a dungeon” you looked out the grubby windows to the floor, men already rolling barrels around, even at this early hour.

“It’s not so bad. Don’t have to work weekends, keeps us in bread and milk” he shrugged, and you smiled.

“You got a family?”

He smiled even bigger, and you were glad that you stopped to talk to Benny today. You needed his light, his softness, in amongst the shit of the week.

“Yeah, I uh, I look after my little brothers, so…I mean my dad as well, you know. But he’s old and can’t work so well, so- “

“You’re a good boy, Benny. And I’m putting an extra shilling beside your name” you decided, pulling the ledger over.

“Oh, no, Miss. You can’t” he protested, but you scowled up at him “I mean, not that I’m telling you what to do, nor nothing”

“No, because I own the company. Technically. While Al-while my husbands away” you corrected, deciding it sounded…more…proper.

He sighed a little, hands scrunching his cap, and then smiled.

“Thanks, Miss”

“Yeah, don’t go telling anyone though, because then I’ll have a queue from here to the half-street looking for pay rises, and I need there to be something to give back when the boss gets out, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, no. I won’t” he agreed.

“It’s just nice to do nice things sometimes” you explained “Especially when not so nice things are happening”

“Yeah, no, yeah. That’s right” he agreed again, and your smile grew.

“You with me Benny?”

“I’m- yeah. Yeah, miss” you laughed at his repeated answer, rising from the chair.

“Fancy earning that extra shilling?” you asked, pulling your coat off the back of the chair, and pulling it on “You can drive right?”

-

You rolled the ring around your finger as you looked through the contract, trying to divert the nervous tension that refused to leave your body.

“Take out that last line, and we’re good to go” you finished, passing the paper back to the supplier.

“I can’t do that” he shook his head, and you blew the air out of your nose.

“You can – you won’t – but you can” you continued, and he wiped down his jaw.

“Mark it down to five” he offered, and you frowned “Four, then”

“Three” you insisted, and he sighed. You shrugged “I have to make payroll, too”

“Add a half and push the deliveries back to the afternoons” he held out his hand, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah” you agreed, shaking on it.

“You’re easier to do business with than the other ones” he laughed.

“Yeah, I’m a real softie”

“I’ve had a gun pulled on me twice” he continued, and you paused.

“Wow”

“Yeah”

“Sorry about that” you said, and he shrugged.

“Business” he explained, and you rocked on the spot.

“I…suppose. Talking of those, I have to get back to them, so- “you gave a wave, and shuffled out to where Benny was guarding the car.

“All sorted?” he asked as you tore a pen cap off with your teeth. Pencils. Why were there no pencils in your pockets? Trying to fountain pen a contract on the move was no good.

“Uh-huh” you agreed, plonking yourself down into the seat. You spat the cap out, catching it, turning your legs into the car as Benny ran around to the other side. Your eyes ran over the words, making sure you’d made the right notes, and didn’t realise that he hadn’t gotten in until it was too late.

“Miss” his voice broke through your concentration and you turned your head to him. He was stood just outside the door, hands raised. There was a gun to his throat.

Your lips parted, and you raised your hand to grip the door frame, backing out of the car slowly.

“Kaye, come on, he’s a kid” you argued, throwing the contract down on the seat and palming the pen.

“In the van” the detective – ex-detective – nodded towards the van that had pulled up behind your car a ways, hidden with the other supply trucks so you hadn’t noticed it standing out. You swallowed. No secondary locations.

“I will once Benny drives off, safe” you bargained, and he scoffed.

“He’d be under orders to go straight to Alfie’s men and tell them who you were with. So, no, he stays with us” Kaye returned, and you licked your lips, hand tapping at your thigh as adrenaline built in your spine.

“Ok. Ok. Put him in the van, then you know he won’t run, and then you can put the gun down, and I’ll get in behind him. Look- “you started walking towards it, slowly.

He motioned to Benny to follow you and you took a clean breath, trying to pour oxygen into your aching lungs. Once Benny was inside, he was safer – you were scared if he tried to make a break for it you wouldn’t be able to stop Kaye before he got a shot off.

Kaye walked you both up to the edge of the van, making Benny open the door. A door. Not canvas. No rolling out onto the road once he drove off. The back was cut off from the driver’s seat with a partition, so there was no strangling him as he focused on the road. Your ideas were running out fast.

Kaye knocked the gun into the back of Benny’s neck and the boy grunted, crawling up into the van as you breathed heavy. Kaye stepped back so that he could point the gun in your general direction – Benny would have to pass you before he could get free anyway, so this way he was covering all his bases. You gave a groan as you got in yourself, hating that you couldn’t see a way out. You considered popping the cap of the pen, driving it into his throat, but you were sure his trigger finger was going to be quicker than you having to swing your whole body around with any significant force.

And so, you were stuck in the back of a van, with a poor boy, and not an idea in your mind.

-

Murder wasn’t the first order of the day. That seemed comforting, at least. Kaye had said in his call that he was protecting you, that he needed you for something. You hoped that something wasn’t anything you’d watched a film about during your horror marathons but when he marched you into what could only be described as a mad scientists’ basement, that seemed inevitable.

“Love what you’ve done with the place” you whispered, trying to scan the scene as you squinted into the low light. The door creaked shut behind you, and he clicked the lock, pocketing the key. And then you heard the clink of the gun as it was placed on a surface. One step forward.

He flicked the lights on and you scoffed a laugh, swallowing it quickly as you considered not angering your captor.

“Wow, this is all very Twelve Monkeys” you muttered to yourself, seeing the giant whatever the hell machine in the middle of the room, and Benny frowned.

“There are monkeys?” he asked, eyes swinging around, and you sighed, holding his shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay. It’s alright. He needs me for something”

“Yes, I do” Kaye said, flickering about with things on the table. He turned after a moment, turning a wheeled chair around and sending it off across the room “But you- “

He pointed towards Benny, and then the chair.

“I don’t need at all, so sit there”

Benny eyed you carefully, and you felt so bad for bringing him out here today. You motioned over to the chair.

“Go on” you prompted, and he scuttled off.

“Right, then. What’s the motive? Let’s not piss about” you shoved your hands in your pockets, handling the pen again. You still had the stick-it-in-the-throat option and now his gun was away, chances were more positive.

Kaye smiled, dropping into his own chair.

“1st January 1967” he said, and you moved your head slightly.

“That’s…a while off” you answered, not sure what the hell he was talking about.

“In both directions, for me” he nodded, and you paused.

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit.

“There it is” he pointed up to you “Look at your face, there it is. You’ve got it. Finally. I have been…waiting for you to realise for so long”

You swallowed, gripping the pen tighter. He was one of you.

“You know what this is?” he asked, lifting from the chair. You tried to regulate your breathing, but it was picking up, and your feet refused to stay still. You threw a look over to Benny, who was frowning, eyes flying around in confusion.

Kaye moved over to behind the desk, lifting a container within a container off the shelf. He held it out before him, a little vial in a sealed glass box, like a sand timer.

“Looks like Mercury” your voice broke when you spoke again, fear twirling through your spine, weeping into the cracks in the column.

“It does. But, no. Caesium” he gave the little vial a shake “It’s how they define a second. The year I was born, actually. 1967, the International System of Units used Einstein’s proof of the speed of light as a constant dimension of the universe to set the time of a second against Caesium. Gives atomic clocks their accuracy” he explained, and you might have found it interesting, were you not fucking terrified of what this meant.

You had to be there when Alfie got back. He promised you wouldn’t disappear. Kaye lowered the vial, setting it onto the desk.

“My mother, she loved time. Her father was a clock maker and she used to tell me about how much she loved watching him work. How he set everything in order. It was our ‘thing’, you know? You have one of those with someone as a child?” he asked, and you nodded “Ours was time”

“She gave you the Caesium?” you nodded towards the vial, trying to…ingratiate yourself. Whatever it was you did to make kidnappers not kill you in a mad scientist basement.

“No, I had to find that on my own. You only come through with what you have, you know that” he replied, and you gave another peek to Benny.

“How did you come through?” he questioned.

“It just happened” you decided that playing dumb was not a good strategy and so here you went.

“Where?”

“The club” you replied.

“When?”

“When did I land, or when- “

“When are you from?” he questioned, calm as day. He’d had this conversation before. He’d met others of you.

“2018” you admitted, feeling sorry for Benny who was trying to process all this and probably wondering if he’d been drugged or something.

He laughed, eyebrows rising.

“Wow. Yeah” Kaye nodded, looking unsure for the first time “2018. Of course, time carries on”

“When…did you?”

“12th July 1985” he revealed, and you blinked.

“Wow” you agreed, and he nodded again. You swallowed, trying to wrap your head around everything. He was not 18 anymore. How long had he been here? He must be…mid 40’s, early 50’s?

“You were…you were Benny’s age” you nodded towards the boy, trying to pull him into to you ‘see we’re lovely, please don’t kill us’ plan. “God, that must have been hard. I know…I know it was very confusing for me.”

Kaye turned his head, emotions back in check, mask fully placed.

“Is your mother still alive?” he asked, and Benny looked to you, then back again when you nodded. He looked unsettled at being addressed. The reminder that this was real, and he was conscious probably wasn’t welcome.

“No, sir” he lowered his head, and Kaye hummed.

“Mine, either” he delivered, curt “She died when I was 14”

“I’m sorry, sir” Benny replied, looking like a child. You wiped away the tear that had broken through, trying to draw attention back to you.

“You’ve been here a long time” you addressed Kaye.

“I wasn’t here, at first” he explained, leaning back in his chair. He had his legs crossed, his hands together neatly. He looked like he was having a casual chat, and it made you sicken.

“First it was 1842. That one was fine, actually. Then 1683, not so fun. The 1400s were hell. I got stuck in a loop around the mid-1700s for months. Turning up here was a breath of fresh air” he rattled off, and your stomach dropped through the floor. He caught your expression. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen to you unless you make it”

“What do you mean?” you asked, sounding as much of a child as Benny.

Kaye motioned towards the big machine you’d referred to when you first entered.

“I was trying to get to the right time. Then I was just trying to get home. It’s never worked quite right” he explained.

“You built a time machine” you deadpanned, and the fact that the particular fact seemed silly to you, when you yourself were a time traveller, hit you quick.

“The plan was, go back, get mum, stop her from dying. Simple, really” he laughed, and you managed a reactionary scoff yourself on instinct.

“Yeah, sounds…oh my….” You stepped closer to the machine, before the thought that it might…work hit you and then you scuttled back.

“My mother used to tell me stories about the Fates. Do you know them?” Kaye rose from his chair, walking to your side. You edged away, not wanting to be within reach of him. He exuded that same energy you’d felt in the first interrogation. A static, a sense of dread.

“Mythology, strings” you shook your head to explain all you remembered. Your heart was so strong in your chest, you wondered at how it hadn’t fractured a rib yet. The pulse surged though to your fingers, your skin tingling.

“They controlled the lives of humans from birth to death” he pulled a line apart in his hands, creating a timeline in the air “with strings that they would weave”

He regarded the timeline for a moment, before snapping his hands together. You jumped, and gasped, stepping back again.

“Fuck them. I tore up their strings. I built a machine, like my grandfather, to move time where I needed it”

You checked on Benny again who, though he looked like he was about to puke, was holding it together quite well.

“You’re trying to go home?” you asked.

“I need you to tell me everything you know. Everything you remember. We can fix this. We can go home. We can…change everything” he turned his head to you, and you swallowed under his gaze.

He flew off in a moment, making you gasp again, and you motioned to Benny to roll his chair a little closer to the door. You turned around to where he was at the desk, eyeing the gun where he’d perched it on the edge.

He grabbed another chair, rolling it over to before you, gripping the back in his hands.

“Tell me…exactly what happened. When you came through. What you did, what happened around you, what you felt” he asked slowly.

You stayed silent, watching him carefully. His eyes began to squint and flicker the longer you held your answer, until he slammed his hand down on the desk. You jumped, closing your eyes to settle yourself. You heard his grunt, and then he was pacing when you opened your eyes again, trying to calm himself down.

“I’m trying to help you, don’t you understand that?” you turned back to you, frowning, incredulous at your silence “I can help you go home!”

You flicked your eyes to his, mulling over the words.

“I’m already home” you spoke, and he froze. It took a few moments, you weren’t sure how long, but it stretched on enough to make you shiver. Then he began laughing.

“It’s hard, I know. I know. I convinced myself so many times to just…give up. But then I realised what I had here- “he motioned to the machine, staring through you with wild eyes “I have to get back. I have to…I’m going to change everything”

“Kaye…I’m not going anywhere” you tried to explain. He stilled at your words “I don’t want to get stuck in the 1700s, or have to endure…I just, I want to go back to my home, with my family…here. Today”

He deflated, eyes hollowing out. Then nodded. There was no way you convinced him like that. Something bad was about to happen. You eyed the gun, your breath rising again.

“They were all useless, too” he said, and you frowned.

“The others. I found them. There’s…so many of us. People just- “he snapped his fingers “out of thin air. I found as many as I could. The detective thing was a good gig. You get so many resources. You can look into whoever you want, just- “

He laughed.

“Just spin some line and I could find whoever I needed. But they…they were weak. They were ‘happy’ to just…be. I thought you were different. You had fire, and you…”

He gave a sad smile to himself.

“But you’re useless, like the others” he explained.

“Kaye- what happened to the others?” you asked, your voice small. How far was the gun? Two steps, three? Could you make it before him?

“The Fates turned their strings from cradle to grave” he repeated his earlier sentiment and you let your breath go.

“But you tore up their strings” you replied “They’re dead. You killed them”

“And you’re useless, just like the rest” he stepped out, towards the desk, and you flung yourself forward.

[noahbradley]

A few notes on signing fees, artists, and GPs

My price sign at GP Bologna kicked off a bit of online discussion on signing fees for artists at GPs and I wanted to address a few points. And by that I mean, “rant like a madman about it.” I’ve been meaning to talk about this stuff for a while now. It seems like as good a time as any, particularly since my signing fee is going up to $3/card in DC next month. You, as a player or fan, know what a signing fee means from your side of the table, but here’s a little glimpse of what GPs mean for us, the artists.  

We (mostly) pay for our own travel and accommodation.

We almost never have anything paid for us any more. The lucky artists will get their hotels paid for, but never their travels. I’m not getting my hotel paid for in DC, but I will be getting it for GP Richmond. If an artist flies to a GP, they pay for the tickets. There are a few exceptions with the bigger name artists, but I’m sure as hell not famous enough. Trust me, I’ve tried. If we drive and accommodation is cheap, then this might mean we only spend about, say $400 (DC will cost me $500 for accommodation, plus gas to get there). If we fly and the only accommodation options are expensive, it’s not surprising for this to hit $1000. We have to bring quite a lot of product to bring and sell, so flying is a further pain/expense.

There is a huge cost to not painting for 5+ days.

3 days of GP and 2 days of travel and that’s a large chunk of time taken out of our working life. There ain’t no paid vacation in the freelancer life, so for me to attend a GP, I need to earn a week’s income. If I don’t earn at least as much as I could from painting during that time, I should (and will) just stay at home and do my job that I love. My income is always directly tied to the time I put into it. If I’m not working, I’m not making money. This applies on a smaller scale at a GP, too: if I take a break to go to lunch, I’m not making money during that time. It’s part of the reason I almost never take a lunch break at a GP. Yes, if you have an assistant you can have them sell while you’re gone–but it’s not free to have someone else there taking care of things. Nor is it free to provide them with travel and accommodation expenses.

Buying inventory is a pain.

Inventory is expensive. It is not uncommon for us to buy $1k+ worth of prints, playmats, and canvas prints for a show. We have to appropriately estimate and then purchase the inventory we need for every show. Too little inventory of the right pieces, and we lose out on sales (it’s rare that people want to buy any ol’ print–they want to buy that print). Too much inventory, and we have this next problem.

We sit on unsold inventory.

We buy product before we know it will sell. And guess what? Sometimes it never does! Sometimes a piece is incredibly unpopular for whatever reason and nobody wants print/playmats of it. There ain’t no returning that stuff. It’s just a loss for us. I’ve spent thousands of dollars on products that will very likely never sell. And before someone suggests it: sure, I could mark the prices down to something incredibly low in an effort to get rid of them. But if I market myself as the Wal-mart of the artist world, why would people bother paying the higher prices of my other work? I don’t really want people showing up at my table looking for a bargain. I’d rather them be there looking for me and my work because they like it.

Sharpies are not free.

Those little fuckers die fast.

We pay higher taxes.

There’s this great thing known as “self-employment tax” which is a nice way of the government saying “fuck the self-employed.” It’s a tax tacked onto the top of my annual bill that makes sure I pay just a little bit more since I did the insulting thing of not having a full time job at a corporation. It’s super fun.

Health insurance

I can get great health insurance if I pay for it. But no, no one will provide that for me.

We pay credit card processing fees.

It is a 2.5% + $.10 fee on all transactions. So if you buy $100 worth of product, I pay about $2.60 to make that happen. No, it’s not much, but hey, it’s an expense and it does add up.

Sometimes there will be a dud GP for an artist.

The universe conspires against us and decides that at a particular GP we will make less than half of what we usually do. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. It just happens.

Many artists are barely breaking even at events.

These are the artists still smiling when you come to their table, despite being deep in the red for the event. They’ve lost hundreds or even thousands of dollars to be there and are doing their best to put on a good show for the fans.

The one guy you’re not incredibly nice to will be the one who tells everyone on the internet.

Three long days of yelling over speakers in a convention center to have conversations with hundreds of strangers isn’t relaxing for the stereotypically introverted artist. And trust me: that one time you slip up, let go, and go a little quieter than usual? That one time you’re not too talkative or give them short answers? They’re going to make sure everyone hears their tale of woe. They’re going to do what they can to let everyone know “how much of a dick _____ is because when I saw him he _______.” The strain of busting our asses to make fans happy all day only to hop on reddit and see the only comment about our attendance be “I don’t know, he seemed pretty rude to me” really sucks.

Your ideas for how to improve our business at GPs are probably wrong.

You’re welcome to share them, but try to realize that we do this for a living and we’re not particularly dumb. I know it seems like maybe if I signed for free I would sell so many more prints and playmats that I would have more money! But I won’t. I’ve tried. And trust me, I love having more money and happier customers/fans. That sounds great. I’ve tried a lot of things and I’ve talked to tons of other artists at events to find out what they do. I’ve heard the failures and successes and the way I do things is the best way I’ve found to make GPs both a fun and profitable experience. I don’t think I know everything, but I do know a fair bit about this stuff.

Yes, we still love coming to GPs.

Even despite all of these factors and issues, we do our best to overcome them and we do often make a good profit there. We like being there, we like the fans, we like interacting with y’all, and by and large, GPs are a blast. We all want to keep coming to GPs.

Signing fees are good for artists (and good for fans, too)

When I first introduced my signing fee at GPDC several years ago, I knew I had found something great. It removed the awkwardness of the looming tip box–players never knew how much to tip. It also meant that I didn’t have to stare down a stack of 100 cards with the hope of maybe earning a few bucks (yes, plenty of people did that). When you remove the awkward, nebulous nature of the interaction, you leave room for both parties to chill out and have a good conversation. Sure, money is changing hands, but nobody needs to be a dick about it. Since I’ve introduced my signing fee, I’ve enjoyed GPs a lot more. They’re more consistently profitable for me. That makes me happier and less stressed. Here’s how signing fees have been from my experience: Free/tips - Misery and tendinitis $1/card - Good $2/card - Great $3/card - ?

I don’t need to sign every card in existence.

I know signing fees scare away some people. Hell, I know writing this little rant will scare away some people. But I’m not in the market to please everyone and sign every damn card with the name “Noah Bradley” on it. I’d rather love signing the cards for people who really like my work and/or the card it’s on.

  So there we have it. Just a few things to consider the next time you question why artist’s have signing fees. I hope you found this enlightening. I’ll see y’all at GPDC next month. <3

[epfcrental]

Just How To Paint With Acrylics: A Detailed Advise

Like any kind of craft, knowing exactly how to painting with acrylics takes a little bit of opportunity to master as well as entails plenty of experimentation as you bent on your method.

From a short explainer on what acrylic paints are actually and just how they vary coming from other paintings to a full step-by-step overview that'll walk you through the method from starting to finish, stick to us and also your next art work stands by at the end of this particular article

Just What Are Actually acrylic Paints?

Before we study how to painting along with acrylics, it's important to initial cover what acrylic painting is as well as how it differs from various other media.

acrylic paints are actually generally pigments suspended in a water-soluble acrylic polymer media that becomes waterproof when dry. The perks of teaming up with acrylics versus other media types is that they are fast-drying, quick and easy to tidy up, possess low smell, and are highly pigmented, implying the different colors could be very daring as well as lively.

Materials Needed & The Very Best acrylic Paint Brands

The bare-bones basics for acrylic painting include a scheme, a scheme blade for mixturing, brushes that are actually noted as approved for acrylic painting, a canvas, a wiper or even newspaper towels, and after that cleansing soap as well as water for cleaning. An easel will definitely also can be found in convenient.

Like everything, you'll locate there are actually varieties in the high quality of materials available to you. As a newbie, Webster advises sticking with lower-cost or "trainee level" products versus "professional quality," taking note that you can even request a fine art store clerk to aim you in the correct direction.

Acrylic-Paints

You'll perhaps carry out greatest acquiring a 24 or 36-piece collection of paints, which you can quickly find on the web or in craft retail stores. It is actually likewise an excellent concept to obtain a couple of bigger pipes of paintings you truly like or presume you'll utilize often, in addition to, a big pipe of dark as well as a large cylinder of white paint which you are going to undoubtedly utilize a whole lot for blending as well as foundation work.

Acrylic Paint Brushes

For brushes, Webster claims to certainly not swamp your own self. Lots of craft pupils and performers center too much on a sizable choice of brushes. Purchase a number of really good brushes and also you are going to appreciate the expertise much more than a gigantic overwhelming collection or even an economical set you will certainly see in the plastic bags at Michaels or the craft retail store.

Canvas & Easel

At the start of your acrylic painting adventure, it's best to get a pack of acrylic-approved canvass panels. Either prime them on your own or even make sure they're keyed for you. Primed canvass boards are white and will have tags like three-way keyed gesso. Buying a less expensive collection similar to this will definitely permit you to trying out concepts and principles without worrying you are focusing on a canvass.

An Easy Beginner's Resource On Just how To painting With acrylics

There's some room for adaption in the listed below bit-by-bit overview, acrylic art work needs to usually comply with the same style. This is actually because, as stated over, acrylic paintings aren't as fixable and also adaptable as canvas or even oil paintings.

Set Up Your Art Work Terminal

Find a relaxing space at home or even outdoors, then set up your easel and also items. Put your canvass on the easel, place a cloth or paper towel near the scheme, and put your combs in a sturdy mug near the combination. Each of these must be placed in positioning to whether you are left-handed or right-handed. If within, you'll desire to deal with the flooring under you along with a tarpaulin, an outdated carpet, or garbage bags.

Method as well as Explore Your Products

The primary step in grasping an art form is to become familiar with your media. For acrylic art work particularly, that indicates receiving a sample of just how the painting uses, how promptly it dries out, how it bents on your canvas of selection, and exactly how it blends with other shades. You may even experiment with other items that affect all the above.

We carry out have a handful of actionable suggestions for techniques to engage in and experiment with acrylic paints. Each job is actually relatively short and will boost your self-confidence and capacities as you continue:

Example all your acrylic paint colours on a canvass to receive a sample of just how promptly they dry, their opacity levels, as well as exactly how they relate to your canvass.

While you do this, feel free to integrate a few of the changing products Griffin discussed above to observe just how it affects each swatch. You can likewise experiment with exactly how water influences the uniformity and also opacity of the paints. If this action confuses you, get customization products for eventually.

Develop a straight incline coming from dark to white, and also one more with two matching shades-- including red to blue, or yellowish to green. This are going to definitely aid you obtain a feel for how the paints mix along with each other.

Conceive Your Paint and/or Generate a Draft

Before putting brush to newspaper, you'll likewise want to contemplate your art work. This could be as simple as thinking about what you desire to generate as well as having a vision in your head, or it might entail taking the time to strategize your art work along with a mild pencil or charcoal.

[sapphicalexaandra]

Impossibility Is a Kiss Away from Reality (12/15)

Pairing: Jace/Alec

Rating: E

Summary:  A chance encounter might finally help Jace and Alec get some answers.

Notes: Chapter 12 of Sense8 AU. So this chapter kind of got away from me length-wise, but hopefully it's still enjoable ;)

Parabatai

Alec woke up to a warm sensation that was not entirely unfamiliar. After all, already far too many times – definitely more than he would ever admit – he had woken up with Jace in his bed, curled up next to him, sometimes on top of him.

This was new nonetheless. They were both naked, for one. And, this time, when he opened his eyes, Alec didn’t hesitate to hold Jace more tightly to himself, placing a few kisses on Jace’s messy hair. With no more doubts or fear clouding his mind, Alec could almost dare to say that he felt...happy. So. Damn. Happy.

What did it matter that it shouldn’t be possible?

And when Jace started moving, moaning lightly as he stretched, raising his head to look up at Alec, Alec couldn’t resist immediately pulling him in for a kiss. He was welcomed with upturned lips and a hand softly caressing the side of his face.

Alec let his other arm circle Jace’s middle, tuning on his side until they were chest to chest. The kiss deepened, as their legs tangled together under the sheets.

“Mhm...good morning,” Jace said, grinning against Alec’s lips.

“Good morning,” Alec replied, caught between embarrassment and utter...bliss. But the latter easily won, as he returned the smile and rested his forehead against Jace’s.

“So... that happened,” Jace put in teasingly, even though it was clear that his wonder was also genuine.

“Yep,” Alec agreed, feeling heat rise to his cheeks, as he remembered what exactly had happened.

That, however, also spurred him to draw Jace closer towards himself, and let their morning erections get acquainted with each other.

Jace gasped just like he had done the night before, his deliciously pink and plump lips forming an o as he raised his eyebrows in surprise. Then he leaned forward until he captured Alec’s lips in a far more heated kiss, which Alec responded to all too eagerly, while he felt Jace’s deft fingers trace his back, making him shiver. And Alec was about to roll them over...when his alarm went off.

“Nooo, you have nowhere to go,” Jace whined, locking him in his arms.

Alec chuckled, whining internally, too. “It’s my first day back. I can’t be late,” he reluctantly said.

“What time do you need to go in?” Jace asked, now positively pouting.

“Seven.”

“What time is it now?”

“Five thirty.”

Jace smirked. “Well, that’s plenty of time to me.”

“No, it’s not. No, it’s not, Jace,” Alec stressed as Jace still wasn’t budging at all. “I need to take a shower, then hopefully eat something, and it takes some time to get to the station...”

“Well...” Jace only tightened his hold more, tantalizingly brushing his lips against Alec’s, which Alec couldn’t bring himself to do anything about. “You forget the weird paranormal shit going on, you could do all that while...”

Jace pushed Alec onto his back and moved to straddle him all in one motion, and they were now in Jace’s apartment, the bright light of day inundating the entire room.

Alec was already sold, but he couldn’t not try to put up a fight as Jace pinned his arms on either side of his head and started making his way down his chest with his mouth.

“Don’t you need to be somewhere, uh?” he said breathlessly, “It’s well in the morning here.”

“My shift starts this afternoon, so you won’t get off that easily...”

Alec couldn’t hold in a whimper as Jace’s tongue slipped out of his smirking lips to flick his nipple.

Oh, but if Jace really thought he could win that easily...

Jace let out a yelp as Alec used all his strength to roll them over and pin him to the mattress. “Well, then, if I can really have it all, I will have fun my way.” The velvety voice that came out of him surprised even himself.

Jace attempted a smirk, but it was far weaker than before. His eyes were so clouded by lust that Alec could feel his own cock hardening even more as a result. Then Jace merely dropped his head back in defeat, and Alec attacked his neck straight away, starting to suck a bruise right onto it. Jace cursed under his breath, his legs firmly wrapped around Alec, as they rutted intermittently against each other whenever the ache became too intense.

Alec left the first spot only to give his attention to another one further down Jace’s throat, then over his shoulder...until he was tracing his mouth and tongue all over Jace’s chest and shoulders, whispering raucously as he encountered multiple tattoos, “You’ll have to tell me all about them at some point.”

“Yeah, anything you want,” Jace breathed out around a moan, and Alec could only chuckle.

Jace was truly a canvas, filled with lines, shapes and colors. By the time he reached Jace’s stomach, Alec had almost forgotten his main goal for how entranced he was by it all.

Almost. Jace’s panting and pleased sounds heightened as soon as Alec spread his legs wider and looked up at him from in between them. Jace’s eyes barely looked focused as Jace glanced down at him, his mouth now permanently opened.

Alec was thinking to make him suffer a little bit longer...but, in the end, he realized he had already done that a bit too much, hadn’t he? So he wrapped his lips around Jace’s cock, and gave him everything he wanted as Jace thrashed wildly under him, fucking into his mouth with intoxicating abandon. And when Jace reached his climax with one last shout, Alec swallowed all of it, only vaguely wondering how the hell he was able to taste Jace’s cum.  

“Satisfied?”

They were in Alec’s shower, and Jace was leaning heavily against one of the walls, chuckling as he still tried to slow down his breathing.

“Don’t be so cocky about it,” Jace shot back, but his eyes were still tellingly closed, his lips parted.

Alec smiled fondly as he soaped his body.

Until Jace abruptly recovered and pushed him against the opposite wall.

“No, no,” Alec tried to say as his lips were caught in a bruising kiss, “we had a deal, I can’t be late.”

“So I should just let you go like this?” Jace asked him sultry, taking Alec’s erection in his hand – at which Alec couldn’t hold in a whimper – as his teeth grazed Alec’s throat. “What kind of selfish person would that make me? You had your fun, now it’s my turn. And you really think you’re gonna resist for long?”

Alec wanted to express his outrage at that smug assumption, but Jace swiftly dropped on his knees that very moment, and Alec was left speechless staring down at the sight of Jace’s mouth a few inches away from his cock, as Jace’s hand was already pumping it lightly. Jace even blew air on it to stress his point, and Alec’s attempt at biting down on his lip to stifle any other sound didn’t work at all. He even whined in protest as Jace averted his attention from where Alec wanted it to be, to trace his tongue over Alec’s tattoo.

“You’ll have to explain this to me, too,” Jace said.

“What’s there to explain? You know all too well that I like shooting with a bow.” Alec’s hips had already started moving impatiently against Jace’s hand, as Alec tried tugging at Jace’s hair to push his face somewhere else.

Jace both swatted Alec’s hand away from his hair and held him still, before tracing a finger from the tip of the arrow to the base of Alec’s cock. “Why does this point at your dick, uh?”

Alec huffed. “Oh c’mon, it just looked better like that, I hadn’t realized the irony, okay? Can you please hurry up now?”

Jace glanced at him bemusedly, before, rolling his eyes, he finally did as he was told.

“Fuck,” Alec gasped as his head smacked against the wall, and the only thing he could do next was lock his fingers in Jace’s hair and let himself go under the frantic attack of both Jace’s mouth and hand.

After, as he leaned heavily on the wall trying to come down from his climax, Jace rose to his feet and kissed him on the mouth. Tasting himself on Jace’s tongue was even more surreal.

“Don’t tell me you’re not happy now,” Jace teased, as they laid on Jace’s bed.

Alec, on top of Jace, buried his face against Jace’s neck, snorting. “Shut up. Go back to sleep now, will you?”

But they were kissing again a moment later, languidly, sweetly.

Until Jace smiled. “Sleep? How am I going to sleep after all of this?”

“The same as I’m going to work after this.”

Jace whined again, and Alec couldn’t resist capturing Jace’s pouting lips with his. Indeed, they needed to stop, or Alec would never be able to focus. But it was all so perfect now. Still crazy and impossible, yet Alec could not bring himself to regret giving in to Jace the previous night. Because, for some reason, he knew that they would figure everything out. He believed it.

In the meantime, they’d simply enjoy getting to know each other from across an ocean. Their connection might be inexplicable, but it was undeniable. Mentally, physically, emotionally...Alec had never found someone he had immediately locked with on all these levels. And, like Jace had said, when something so good, so rare, happened, you shouldn’t let it go. Alec would not let Jace go.

Well, he’d have to, shortly, for the day. Alec tore even his projection-self away from Jace with one last kiss on the cheek, before he put on his uniform. It always felt like some sort of ritual, when he did that. As if he was turning himself into someone completely different, separate from himself. In a sense, that was true. Officer Lightwood had to be something far better, far bigger than Alec ever was.

“Can you promise to not...distract me while I’m at work?” Alec asked the mirror.

Jace immediately appeared in it, standing behind him – so he could see Jace in a mirror, even though nobody else probably could...

Alec stopped his musings as soon as he both saw and sensed Jace wrap his arms around his middle, Jace’s head nodding against his back. And Alec was suddenly caught unprepared by the flood of emotions that started flowing in him. Outwardly, a smile was the sole indication of it, which seemed so small compared to the entirety of what Alec felt for the image reflected in the mirror. Taking Jace’s hand and placing a kiss on it was still only another fraction of it.

This was truly...so much. He’d met Jace only a few weeks earlier...how could it be possible? How could Alec be feeling all of this?

When Jace kissed his shoulder blade Alec was no closer to an explanation, so he could only express his jumble of emotions by turning around and fiercely kissing Jace one last time. Jace was clearly surprised by his sudden vehemence, but he recovered quickly, holding onto Alec’s neck as Alec raised him off his feet.

After putting him down, their eyes met, and unspoken words seemed to be spelled out in the space between them. Jace opened his mouth, and Alec’s heart was thumping in his chest as he waited for...what?

But Jace merely closed his mouth, smiling brightly. “Good luck on your first day back, Officer.”

Alec smiled back. “Thanks.”

Leaving the house, Alec felt...different. He couldn’t really describe it. It wasn’t because of the sex – at least not entirely, because having sex with Jace was surely something else. It left a soothing feeling in him that he had never quite felt, at the same time that it ignited a want in him already demanding to be met again.

But that was not the reason why he felt so good. He could only think...was that what making a decision for himself felt like? He acknowledged the risks, he accepted the countless problems that could derive from it, but he was also embracing a myriad of positive aspects. Jace.

Jace was all the positive aspects he could ever wish for.

And he arrived at the police station with a positive attitude. He couldn’t deny that he had been nervous like all hell to go back to work, having lied to everyone about what had been happening to him, afraid to mess up again because of it... But it hadn’t been Jace’s fault, had it? This had been happening to Jace as well, and now that they were at least aware of the situation, had made some peace with it, and could control it in some capacity, it didn’t need to be a potential catastrophe ever again.

Alec wouldn’t let it be. He would do his job as efficiently as he had always done.

The morning did go well. Him and Lydia got in their car and went on patrol through the city, handling every situation thrown their way with their usual sharp collaboration and firm but kind approach. Alec was glad Lydia didn’t ask him anything about last night, because that would surely distract him. But he had already known that he could always rely on his partner to reserve every topic for their respective slots.

“Ugh, I need to ask. Izzy wants to know, very insistently, how your night went,” Lydia said, as a matter of fact, as soon as they seated themselves in their favorite diner during their lunch break.

Alec rolled his eyes, trying to cover his embarrassment. “Right...sorry for abandoning you two.”

Lydia smirked. “No problem at all. Needless to say, Iz was thrilled when she saw you leave with that guy. But I don’t really care to know the details, you know, so just tell me if you had a good time so I can report to the lady and be done with it.”

Alec snorted. It was only typical of his sister. And, indeed, there was no way in hell he was ever telling anyone the details. “Yes, I had a good time. She can rest her heart.”

Lydia chuckled. “Good. Now, let’s please order cause I’m starving.”

“Oh, yes, please.”

When their burgers finally arrived, there wasn’t much more opportunity to talk, and Alec quite liked it this way. Him and Lydia didn’t need to fill all the silences, since they were always companionable.

It left time to think, though. Memories of the night before and of that morning kept coming back to him and filling him with a buzzing feeling that he hoped wasn’t too visible. Even if it was, Lydia wouldn’t exactly comment on it, so he wouldn’t even know.

He didn’t care anyway. He was truly too giddy to care.

Another thought occurred to him. As Alec picked up his phone and started typing in the browser, his heart was positively about to jump out of his chest.

Jace Herondale.

And there he was.

*

Jace entered his shop, cleaned up the shelves, reordered a few items, then he finally put the open sign outside and seated himself on his spot behind the counter. All with an unrestrainable smile on his face.

Even Simon had to comment on it when he arrived. “Hey, mate...why are you glowing?”

Jace laughed. “I’m not. Shut up.”

Simon arched an eyebrow, his lips quirking upward. “Did you get laid? I thought you went home alone last night!”

“Well...not exactly,” Jace admitted.  

Simon surveyed him even more carefully. “Wait, are you...seeing someone? For real, not just a hook-up?”

Jace shrugged, but the smile that was still not leaving his face kinda gave him away.

Simon whooped. “Finally! Who is it, who is it?! Wait, boy or girl? Tell me everything.” And he leaned on the counter with a maniacal look in his eyes.

Jace chuckled. “Calm down, cowboy. This is not Gossip Girl. Get a grip, mate.”

“C’mon, pretty please? I’m you bestest mate?” Simon pouted.

Jace rolled his eyes, as worry cursed through him. This was not something he could tell, right? Yet, if him and Alec were going to make this work, he couldn’t exactly leave his friends out of it forever...

Still, a paranormal communication with someone half the world away would only make them believe he was more of a lost cause than usual. Jace had a feeling they would say it was his way of ‘coping’ with Valentine’s release from prison.

No, he could not tell the truth, ever. Since Alec was a real person anyway, Jace just had to say that he had a long-distance relationship with someone he met on the internet. It was a common thing nowadays, right? He’d suggest the idea to Alec and define the details with him later. In the meantime...

Jace smirked crookedly. “It’ll be a surprise. Just give me some space, will you? It’s still kind of new and I don’t need meddling friends in the mix.”

Simon let out a long-suffering sigh. “Ugh, fine. But you must promise me I’ll be the first to know!”

“I promise,” Jace said honestly. When a thought occurred to him, and he turned more somber. “Hey, where is Clary?”

“She’s doing a photoshoot for someone slightly famous,” Simon answered. “She’s all excited about it!”

Jace nodded. “Hey, do you think you could, you know, tell her that I’m sorry? About what I said the other day?”

“Nope, you’ll tell her yourself.” Simon looked at him rather sternly.

Jace lowered his gaze. “I don’t know if she wants to see me.”

Simon stretched out a hand over the counter to clap his shoulder. “Of course she does. And none of us are saying you weren’t right, Jace. We know it’s much harder for you, but we just want to be there for you, you know? Don’t push us away, whatever is going on with you.”

Jace nodded again, managing a small smile. “I know, you’re right. I won’t, or I’ll try not to.”

Simon smiled back, but he had to go help a few customers after that, so the moment couldn’t be prolonged. Jace felt better anyway. He could almost dare to say that practically all things in his life were falling into place; a feeling he wasn’t really used to, but that he wouldn’t mind getting used to. It almost resembled...happiness.

That thought brought him somewhere else, and he had to curse himself mentally, since he had promised Alec he would not disturb him at work... Thankfully, though, he found himself in a diner, with Lydia, looking perfectly orderly in her uniform, sitting in front of him.

Jace’s eyes fell down and he saw a phone in his hands...with his own face on it?

“The Mortal Instruments,” Jace then heard Alec say from his new spot standing next to him, looking down from over his shoulder.

“What?” Lydia said.

Alec raised his eyes towards at her. “It’s a band. Ever heard of it?”

Lydia shook her head.

“Oh, oh, what am I seeing? Are you googling me, Alec Lightwood?” Jace couldn’t refrain from asking, a smirk playing on his lips.

Alec glanced at him from the corner of his eye, biting down a smile. “Shut up.”

“What? Why, should I know it?” Lydia sounded outraged around a mouthful of her burger.

Alec flinched slightly. “No, no, Lyd. I’m just talking to myself.”

Lydia shrugged, resuming to eat with much gusto.

“So...you still have doubts?” Jace couldn’t mask the concern in his voice.  

Alec leaned his back on the counter of the shop. “No, of course not. I just...I need an outside perspective, you know?”

Jace internally sighed in relief. Externally, he grinned. “Oh, I know. I googled you ages ago.”

“You did?” Alec asked in surprise.

“Yep. Took you long enough.”

Alec rolled his eyes, before looking down at him more forlornly. “I was an even bigger idiot, then. Jace, I’m so sorry...”

“Hey, it’s okay, Alec. Really.”

“Wait,” Alec suddenly said, outstretching a hand to stop Jace from getting up from his seat. Then Alec’s fingers went to touch his neck.

Jace looked down at Alec’s arm in confusion. “What?”

“I did this. This love bite.”

Jace placed his own fingers on the spot, feeling it. “Yeah. I saw.”

“Incredible,” Alec whispered.

Jace opened his mouth, about to echo the same sentiment...

“Jace, who are you talking to?” Simon called out from one of the shelves.

Jace didn’t give himself time to freak out. He quickly picked up his phone and placed it over his ear, pointing at it so that Simon could see.

“Oh,” Simon mouthed, before he winked and looked away.

They both let out a big sigh.

“So, Mortal Instruments is the name of your band? Not bad...all poetic and shit,” Alec said with a grin.

Jace rolled his eyes. “Shut up. It is a dope name, you heathen.”

They chuckled. When they stopped, they didn’t break eye contact. And Jace could only think that being able to stare all he wanted at Alec’s smile, a smile that reached his eyes, forming crinkles all around them, made everything better. Alec looked back just as intensely, so that Jace knew what he would do before he did it.

Alec leaned forward and brushed their lips together. Jace closed his eyes.

“Now you’re distracting me at work,” he whispered teasingly once they broke apart.

“There’s no one here,” Alec pointed out, looking around.

Jace stuck out his tongue at him. “Way to rub it in.”  

“Oh, I didn’t mean...just, you know, why do you work here if your grandmother gave you money? You could be doing anything you want.”

“This is what I want,” Jace stated firmly. “I couldn’t live with myself if I slacked off. I need my independence, while still following my dreams."

Alec nodded. “I admire you for that, you know?” he told him softly.

Jace had to avert his eyes. Of course, Alec would be one to make him blush.

He still had the phone against his ear. Jace was about to put it down...when he had an idea.

“You say you need an ‘outside perspective’, uh?” He handed the phone to Alec. “Type your number in it.”

“What? Jace...” Alec took the phone and stared at it, confused, before he complied with a sigh and handed it back to Jace.

Jace pressed call, bringing the phone to his ear once again.

“What are you doing?” Alec asked, his eyes wide.

“I shouldn’t know this number, right? See what happens.”

They were back in the diner, and Alec’s phone started vibrating on the table. Alec stared at it a few long moments. Then he picked it up, and handed it to Lydia.

“Lydia, can you take this for me, please?”

Lydia arched her eyebrows at him, but she answered the call. “Hello? Who is this?”

The double sound of Lydia’s voice, as Jace heard it both in the diner and in his phone, was surreal. “Uhm, hi...I’m Jace, is Alec there?” Jace said, suddenly feeling nervous. This was shaping out to be quite the turning point...

“One second, please,” Lydia covered the speaker to whisper rather forcefully at Alec. “It’s some guy with a British accent. Alec, is he the one you picked up last night? Why don’t you want to talk to him and, most important, why are you involving me?”

Alec blinked his stunned look away. “What? No, it’s not Dick...wait, I mean...”

“Seriously? That guy was called that?” Lydia snickered, and Jace had to cover his own speaker to laugh as well.

Alec glared surreptitiously at him – “Not sorry,” Jace mouthed bemusedly – before turning back towards Lydia. “No, of course not. I just can’t remember his name...but whatever, give me the phone, Lydia!”

Still laughing, Lydia gave him back the phone. Alec didn’t talk into it straight away, though; he merely stared at it again.

“Does that mean you’re not seeing the guy of last night again? I forgot that Iz wanted to know that, too,” Lydia asked him, turning serious. “And who’s this Jace?”

Alec didn’t look at her. “No, that was just... Please, Lydia, don’t mention Jace to Izzy, I need to work some stuff out first...”

“Alec, are you saying you have a boyfriend?” Lydia whispered, as a smile broke out on her face.

Jace grinned fondly as he saw Alec turn a bit red. “I thought you didn’t want to get involved?”

“Not in your one-night stand, no! But I’m invested in your happiness, am I not? We’re family. Know that I’m so happy for you, Alec.”

Even Jace, who didn’t know Lydia that well, could hear the genuineness in her voice, so he could understand Alec’s bashful smile all too well. And he almost thought he could feel Alec’s relief and joy to have Lydia’s unabashed support. On second thought, maybe Jace did feel it.

“Even though I don’t understand why you had a one-night stand, then?” Lydia continued.

Alec sputtered a bit. “I just...it’s complicated, okay? And I really need to take this, now. Please, please, don’t forget to not tell Izzy.”

“Okay, okay.” Lydia waved him off. “Go. You have twenty minutes, tops.”

“Thank you. You’re the best.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, even though she was smiling, as Alec got up and exited the diner. Jace followed him.

Outside, Alec brought the phone to his ear. “Hi,” he said into it, almost shyly.

Jace could understand that, too. If he had thought it was all so surreal before, it was nothing compared to this. A voice he had only ever heard in his head had clearly come out of his very real phone.

“Hi,” he said back, suddenly breathless.

“So, I think we have enough proof,” Alec stated casually, and Jace knew he was not casual at all.

“Yeah,” Jace agreed.

“I don’t know what to feel, to be entirely honest,” Alec admitted, lowering his tone, “this means we need to start more in-depth research, and I don’t even know where to start. Who to ask without being considered crazy.”

Jace nodded, placing a hand over Alec’s shoulder, rubbing it softly. “I know.”

“It’s also a relief.” Alec looked tentatively at him. “To know...that I haven’t been falling in love with a fantasy.”

Jace stopped breathing altogether. Something felt stuck in his throat.

“Falling in love?” he echoed.

Jace didn’t know why he was so surprised. He had been the one trying to get Alec to be more upfront about the situation, hadn’t he? And a part of him did rise at the word, as if another piece had found its right place in his life...

Love. Was that what that feeling was? But, again, what else could it be?

It still felt like too enormous of a word. Scary. Dangerous. His fath-Valentine had drilled into him the dangers of loving someone, both via his teachings and with the way he had left a barren wasteland in Jace’s life, in Jace’s heart, after he had revealed himself for who he really was. Jace had tried to turn that around all these years...and it still didn’t seem as if he had succeeded. Jace had not been able to love someone without hurting them at some point or the other. And Alec...Alec was the last person he wanted to do that to.

Jace was only glad, then, when he was spared a prolonged confrontation by Lydia, who hurriedly came out of the diner to tell Alec, “Robbery in an apartment in Brooklyn. We’re the closest, let’s go.”

After Alec sent him one last glance, Jace blinked back into the shop.

*

Why had he said that? What kind of hit to the head had caused him to say that? After a few weeks of flirting, sexual tension, and denial, he had come up with that word? It didn’t feel like a lie, but...ugh, why was he like this? The day before he had ignored Jace completely; doing this today was literally... He needed to slow the fuck down.

Alec put all that in a box at the back of his mind as him and Lydia reached the robbed apartment.

“Ah! What a swift intervention, thank you very much,” the man who opened the door greeted them with. “Magnus Bane, pleased to meet you. Come in, come in.”

“Hello, Mr. Bane. I’m Officer Branwell, and this is my partner, Officer Lightwood. What is the situation here?” Lydia said as they started following the man inside.

“Please, just call me Magnus. And, oh, well...”

He showed them a living room that was entirely upside-down.

“Do you know what has been stolen from you?” Alec asked, surveying the room critically.

“Nearly every valuable thing in the room, all my paintings, my antiques...the collection of a lifetime,” Magnus explained with a pained sigh.

“They were all just lying here, in the open?” Lydia put in, clearly skeptical of the man’s judgment.

“I know what you think, but I have high security all around. A few hours ago I was out, I got the message about someone entering my apartment, and I arrived here a few minutes before you. Nobody in sight, and it’s the middle of the day. Any idea how they managed it?”

Alec and Lydia shared a dumbfounded look. Weird, indeed. A master heist in broad daylight?

“Let’s start simple. Who do you think would’ve known about and had an interest in your valuables?” Lydia asked.

“I’m a fortune teller, I receive people here every day. Anyone of them could’ve done it,” Magnus replied.

“Do you have a list of your clients?” Alec demanded.

Magnus nodded, and he went to retrieve a notebook from a cabinet, handling it to Lydia.

“I’ll skim through it and report the names to the station,” Lydia told Alec.

“I’ll look around,” Alec said instead.

“Wonderful!” Magnus’s outburst made them both startle. “Anyone wants tea?” Magnus then asked in a cheerful tone.

“Uhm...no, thanks,” they both answered with strained smiles. What a strange man he was, for one.  

Alec spent the next half-hour inspecting every inch of the apartment, photographing and cataloguing everything that was out of place. An unusual case, Alec mused, but if they managed to solve it, it would only benefit both him and Lydia. After the shooting-disaster, they needed a win.  

He was trying to focus his phone on an upturned chair on the bedroom floor, when Jace appeared in his line of sight.

Alec bristled, looking around to make sure that nobody was near. “Ja-what are you doing here, I thought I told you not to distract me at work?” he said in a forceful whisper.

“Sorry! But you know I can’t really control it sometimes,” Jace said, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Yeah, okay, you’re right. Now go, though.”

Jace looked around instead. “Woah, what happened here?”

“A robbery.”

“Cool.” Jace roamed the entire room, before he glanced back at him. “Okay...I’ll go, then.”

Alec merely nodded, an inexplicable lump having formed in his throat.

Jace kept lingering. “Hey, about earlier...”

Alec shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Forget what I said, really.”

“But...”

“Jace, it’s okay.” Alec put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s figure this out first, what do you say?”

Jace hesitated another moment, before nodding, a tentative smile on his face. “Yeah.”

“I’ll see you later,” Alec said, returning the smile.

“Later,” Jace echoed.  

Alec’s gaze kept being fixed on the same spot even after Jace left.

“Your parabatai has any useful skill to help solve the case?” Magnus’s voice came up from behind.

Alec froze, rapidly turning around, only to take in the sight of the other man leaning casually against the doorframe. Alec’s eyes were wide open. “Uhm, excuse me...what?”

What had Magnus just said? Some weird word... And he couldn’t have heard them...had he?

As Alec felt on the brink of a full-blown panic, Magnus simply replied, “Oh, don’t worry, you don’t have to hide with me. I know.”

Alec opened and closed his mouth a few times. “You...you saw Jace?”

“Is that his name? And no, I’m not like you, even though I’ve been rather initiated to your kind.”

A ringing sound started pressing against Alec’s ears, as his heartbeat picked up a furious pace. “My...kind?” he managed to let out, a rather strangled sound.  

Magnus finally seemed to take Alec’s confusion into account. He frowned. “Yes? Wait, you mean you don’t know?”

Alec almost burst out into laughter. “I don’t even know what there’s supposed to be known! So yeah, you could say I don’t know anything at all, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re saying that...that there are more like me and Jace?”

“If there’s...oh, boy.” Magnus glanced back over his shoulder, before he stepped into the room and closed the door. “So you’re really saying you have no idea?” he pressed on.

Alec had no idea how to face that situation, for one. Should he trust this man? Was this the first long-craved hint that would be able to bring them closer to an understanding? If that was the case, he hardly thought there would ever be a better occasion to get some answers...

Alec took the plunge. “No, no, I don’t. I have no idea what’s going on! I just know that, like, a month ago I started seeing this guy no one else can see, Jace, who’s from London, he’s in a band, he’s got this whole life going on, and I can not only talk to him, I can somehow feel him or, or sense him, and I know things about him that I shouldn’t, and, for the longest time – well, not that long, considering –  I thought that it was all just a fantasy, you know? That I was going crazy. But, apparently, Jace is real, I checked on the internet, I had my partner talk to him on the phone and she heard him! So he must be real, right? And yet...please, if you know anything about this, I’m begging you to tell me. Am I going crazy? Am I making this something that it’s not, just because I wish...”

“Hey, hey, calm down, listen to me,” Magnus took a few steps forward, but no more, as Alec flinched slightly at that. And, noticing it, Magnus raised his arms pacifyingly. “Yes, I know what’s going on, I know what you and Jace are.”

“And what...” Alec gulped. “What are we?”

“You are parabatai.”

Alec blinked. “Para-what?”

“Parabatai. An enhanced species of human, any two people that from anywhere in the world find themselves to be essentially one person, one soul. So no, you haven’t been going crazy. Jace is real. You two are connected in a way that transcends physical boundaries…you share emotions, thoughts, instincts, strength. You are bound together for life.”

Alec almost stopped breathing. He was finally hearing an explanation, or a confirmation, to what had been going on in his life recently...and he didn’t exactly know what to feel.

On one hand, this eccentric man was literally a fortune teller who no one in their right mind should ever listen to…yet, after how drastically Alec’s perceptions of reality and impossibility had changed in the past few weeks, everything that Magnus was saying finally, finally gave some sense to it all. As if a space that had been empty in his mind, was being filled with its exact fit. And Alec was caught in the weirdest form of relief.

While he tried to digest the words properly anyway, still quite unsure how to react, or move, Magnus regarded him with sympathy, “You said he lives in London, right? And that he’s a musician? You even confirmed for yourself that he was real, so why are you still doubting? Is he not here, right now?”

Alec reflexively turned his head to the left, and, of course, there he was again. Jace was looking at him with a glint in his eyes, which told Alec that he had listened to every word Magnus had said.

“Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Jace spoke, a corner of his mouth quirking up.

But Alec knew that he had never been more serious, which was confirmed when Jace stretched out a hand towards him with nothing but fire in his peculiar eyes. Alec could only be enraptured.

“We are one,” Jace whispered. Something like that could only be said in a whisper, even if no one else but Alec could hear him. Exactly because no one else but Alec could hear him.

Alec nodded, solemnly, and when he took Jace’s hand, he could swear he almost, truly, felt it.

“What I don’t understand...” Magnus went on, and they both reluctantly broke eye contact to turn towards him. Magnus was staring at Alec’s hand, which to him must’ve looked like he was holding...nothing. “Why are you just connecting now?”

“What do you mean?” Alec asked, as he tightened his hold on Jace’s hand, all his apprehension coming back anew.

Magnus gestured at them. “Parabatai are usually connected from birth. You shouldn’t have only been interacting with each other for such a short time. I have never heard of something like this.”

Alec shared a brief stunned, worried look with Jace. “You think we’re lying?” he demanded Magnus.

“No.” Magnus frowned. “I know liars when I see them. I believe you’re telling the truth. It still doesn’t quite explain your situation.”

Alec felt dizzy. If some questions had been answered, this posed a whole new set of problems. What was wrong with them? “But – do you have any theory? And, like, you say we’re an enhanced species of human? What does that mean? Is there some kind of...scientific explanation?”

“There is indeed.” Magnus started pacing the room. “A parabatai has a so called psycellium. It’s a psychic nervous system that ‘normal’ humans like me don’t have, which allows the two people to connect. From talking to each other no matter the distance, which is called visiting, to sensing what the other does, which is called sharing. You can even know each other’s thoughts, the more the connection is developed through the years. And that’s not all...there’s literally so much you don’t know, I can’t even begin to explain it. For one, you can visit even someone who’s not your parabatai, some other parabatai, although you first must see them face-to-face in your physical bodies for the connection to be formed, and you can never share with them... I’m sorry, I know that I’m blowing your mind right now.” Magnus chuckled.

Indeed, Alec’s head could’ve exploded any second. He glanced at Jace, and he was rubbing at his temples, repeatedly muttering bloody hell under his breath.

“Alec, are you ready to go?!” Lydia’s voice suddenly cut the air.

Shit. “I’m almost done, Lydia!” Alec called out, before lowering his voice again. “Magnus, I really don’t know how to thank you for this. I promise I’ll find out who stole from you, for one, but...do you think we could talk again? Could you tell us more some other time?”

“How does he know so much?” Jace wanted to know, arching an eyebrow.

“And how do you know so much about parabatai?" It wasn't lost on Alec that that was the first time he was ever saying the word...and he couldn't help but be surprised by how easily it rolled off his tongue. "If you don’t mind me asking?”

“Well, that’s a long story for another time,” Magnus said. “But, yes, I’m curious now, so I will help you get in contact with others like you. Tomorrow, deal?”

“Deal.”

Alec swiftly shook Magnus’s hand, before he started walking towards the door.

“One last thing,” Magnus urged him, and Alec turned back around. “You have ways to not let others overhear you talking to someone invisible, you know? When Jace is here with you, talk to him projecting yourself, too. You get what I mean when I say projecting, yes?”

Alec nodded. “Yeah, I figured that one out. And you’re right, that was already a major problem.”

“Good. Be careful, it’s what I say to you next. Both of you. Is Jace still here?”

“Yes.” Alec glanced at Jace, and he appeared apprehensive just as he felt himself to be. “I don’t think everyone might be happy to discover that such unusual people live amongst them.”

“That’s for sure. But it’s not only that everyone might not accept it; someone does not accept it. There are actual groups of people – especially one, they call themselves the Circle – who are aware of your existence, and their goal is to wipe you out, do you understand? So while you’re still tentative about this, you need to be extra careful not to let yourself be discovered. Don’t tell anyone, not your friends, not your families.”

They both nodded gravely.

“Shit,” Alec suddenly exclaimed.

“What?” both Jace and Magnus asked, alarmed.

“Damnit...I told my psychologist all about this,” Alec explained. He could’ve kicked himself for his idiocy.

“A psychologist, you say? Who is that, if I may ask?” Magnus inquired.

“Uhm...Gray is her name. Tessa Gray.”

Magnus did a double take. “You went to Tessa? And she didn’t tell you anything?”

“What?” Alec’s eyes widened. “You know her? She – she’s a...?”

“She’s an old friend of mine. Her husbands are parabatai. Will and Jem, they’re called. They work with her, you might’ve seen them at her office? Both dark hair, one is Asian.”

“I – what the...”

“So she did know! What the hell, why didn’t she say anything to you?” Jace expressed Alec’s thoughts, staring up at him with blazing eyes.

Alec gulped. “I saw one guy with dark hair, yeah. He looked at me funny,” he told Magnus.

“Mhm.” Magnus became pensive. “So what did she say to you, exactly?”

Alec rubbed his eyes, feeling suddenly very, very tired. It was all truly becoming too much. “I told her what was going on with me, and she asked me if it had ever happened before, what Jace’s reactions had been and the like. Basically, I was still in the denial stage, trying to get rid of Jace and all, and she told me not to draw my own conclusions and to ‘explore’ what my brain was trying to tell me. So she might’ve tried to encourage me to find out the truth? But why not just be upfront about it?”

Magnus seemed to be satisfied by that answer. “I get it. She probably didn’t want to spook you, if it’s all so new and you were in denial. Again, I’ve never heard of something like this, and she probably hasn’t either. She might’ve been testing the waters, on how to properly approach you.”

Alec looked at his feet sheepishly. “I did blow her off after one meeting. Maybe she would’ve told me if I’d gone more.”

“Still, quite rude of her,” Jace murmured crossly.

“Usually, the people who go to her are young parabatai trying to figure stuff out,” Magnus went on, “or ones who have lost their parabatai.”

“So she’s a shrink for parabatai?” Alec and Jace both asked in the same breath.  

“Yes...” Magnus frowned. “How did you get in touch with her, again?”

Alec blinked a few times. “My...my father gave me her number. He told me she’s helped him a lot...”

“Wait, do you think...?” Jace jumped in.

“That my father could be...?” Alec felt a sudden sense of outrage build up in him. How much did his father know?

“What’s his name?” Magnus asked.

“Robert Lightwood,” Alec said curtly, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

“Oh,” Magnus mouthed. “How could I have not connected the names?”

“So you do know him.” Alec almost couldn’t believe his ears.

“I’ve just heard of him...”

Alec crossed his arms, staring at Magnus, waiting for him to go on.

Magnus sighed. “I just know that he’s lost his parabatai many, many years ago, and he’s been going to Tessa. But only recently, maybe a year.”

“He sent me to her...” Alec started to say, “so he must’ve thought I was a parabatai, right? Yet, I have never mentioned that I was seeing something weird, and he’s not been around me enough to notice anything these past few weeks!”

“He’s your father,” Magnus stated. “He more than anyone should know why your situation is so peculiar.”

“I don’t think I ever even saw your father this entire time,” Jace put in.

“Alec! Where are you?!” Lydia called out again.

Alec flinched. “Damnit. I’ll talk to my father, okay? I’ll force him to tell me something, if I need to. I should really go, now, though.”

“Yeah, it’s better,” Magnus agreed. “Try remembering everything I said. Maybe you should go directly to Tessa, you know? She’s one of the few people I really trust, I’m sure she was only trying to help you. She, and her husbands, can explain things to you much better than I ever could.”

Alec nodded. “Yeah, probably. Thank you again, Magnus. For everything.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Magnus smiled as he waved him off, and Alec finally got out of the room and went back to Lydia.

“What the fuck, what the...” Jace was chanting next to him.

“I’ll get back to you after my shift, okay? Okay?” Alec quickly told him.

Jace nodded. “I’ll try to contain a mind explosion, in the meantime.”

“God, I know.”

A few hours had to pass before Alec could talk to Jace again. Him and Lydia had to collect all their data, and go back to the station to run it through the system. They didn’t come up with anything concrete, since none of Magnus’s clients seemed to have a criminal record. In the end, they had to postpone it all to the next day, since their shift was about to end. Alec didn’t mind going back to Magnus’s apartment, since he could talk to him more. No matter what he had said, Alec didn’t feel like going to Tessa again quite yet. It was all a big gamble, but Magnus seemed the more trustworthy, for the time being.

Either way, it was all a bit hard to process, to say the least. Alec tried as best as he could to forget about it as he finished up his work for the day. Contain a mind explosion, indeed.

He was making his way back home, walking the last block to his apartment after getting out of the subway, when Jace reappeared. He didn’t say anything for a while.

Alec’s parabatai. That word, for how new, felt strangely right. Yes, Alec felt almost like saying, Jace was his parabatai.

“I was thinking,” Jace finally spoke, “about everything Magnus said, obviously. And I mean, you’ll have to talk to your father, for sure, but what struck me the most was the bit about the fact that our connection was supposed to have been there since birth.”

“Yeah, that’s...” Alec stopped talking, rapidly making a projection of himself, so that he was walking both next to Jace and next to himself. “I can’t even wrap my mind around it. Why the hell...?”

“You know, ever since I was a kid,” Jace interrupted him, and Alec started listening attentively, “I’ve had this...sentence stuck in my brain. It always comes up at some point or the other.” Jace looked at him. “Get out of my head. Sounds familiar?”

Alec recoiled, stopping dead on his tracks.

“Yes, exactly,” Jace went on, “we’ve said it quite a few times, haven’t we? And I’ve been trying not to linger on the connection between these two facts of my life, since why should they have been connected...yet...”

They both turned around to face each other.

“That sentence feels like a memory that I can’t quite place,” Jace went on, “I don’t remember ever saying it, but the way I hear it in my head, it’s me as a child...screaming it.”

Alec breathed in, then out. “What are you trying to say, Jace?”

“What if we were connected before?” Jace voiced the thought filling the space between them. “What if we forgot about it? What if I...”

Alec’s eyes widened on their own accord.

“Imaginary friend,” he whispered the words before he could consciously think about them.

“What?” Jace echoed, frowning.

“Imaginary friend!”

[jeremystrele]

4 Big Ideas For Small Spaces

4 Big Ideas For Small Spaces

Interiors

by Sally Tabart

Sophie Bowers of Strutt Studios has made brilliant use of inbuilt banquette seating to maximise space in her tiny Kensington, Sydney apartment. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Making the most of wall space in the bathroom. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Sophie Bowers, founder of Strutt Studios Interior Architecture, fashion stylist Josh Climpson and their mini dachshunds Billie and Remi, at home in Kensington, Sydney. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Sophie has customised just about everything in her apartment to really let her design aesthetic and personality shine through. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Storage below the banquette seating – genius! Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Tailor-made furniture, With Sophie Bowers of Strutt Studios

In small spaces, a functionally driven, permanent piece of furniture is often the best solution to address the lack of space and lack of storage, and avoid an enclosed feeling.

There are three commonly used inbuilt furniture pieces. These include banquette seats or plinth lounges, fireplace and shelving units, and TV credenzas.

In small space design, you need to maximise the use of the walls. Therefore building in a joinery unit that can incorporate some or many of these seating, storing and displaying functions is a seamless way to get more from a minimal footprint.

Simple ideas like building storage to the ceiling will increase the perception of height in any room. Also consider incorporating feature handles or feet/legs to your inbuilt seating, this customisation is a great way to showcase your personality whilst allowing the bulk of the joinery design to remain simple, and thus not overwhelm a small room. Wall mounted shelving as a stand-alone feature or incorporated into a fireplace or TV storage unit is another way to draw the eye upwards, as nothing makes a space feel more enclosed than a cluttered benchtop or table.

The success of my own small apartment heavily relied on the spaces being dual purpose, and in the kitchen zone, an inbuilt banquette seat was the perfect way to achieve this. To create a minimal look, the junction at the kitchen and dining area is a very subtle detail with the waterfall stone seamlessly continuing from benchtop to banquette seat. This created a highly functional merge for us between the kitchen and dining, which often becomes the heart of the home, especially when entertaining. The inclusion of drawers below the banquette seat added significant storage, and by mounting the backrest cushion to the wall, a light and clean look was attained.

Considered and clever inbuilt furniture solutions prove bigger isn’t always better when it comes to a room’s footprint size.

See Sophie‘s home tour on TDF here. 

Alex Kennedy, who works in international development, lives in a tiny self-contained studio apartment in Carlton, designed by her friend interior architect Sarah Trotter of Hearth Studio. Photo – Eve Wilson. Production – Lucy Feagins.

The kitchen area in Alex’s apartment. Photo – Eve Wilson. Production – Lucy Feagins.

These days, Alex has a fold-out table where she’s had up 10 people over for dinner (which can be cleared away to make way for a mini dancefloor!). Photo – Eve Wilson. Production – Lucy Feagins.

Bits and bobs in Alex’s home. Photo – Eve Wilson. Production – Lucy Feagins.

Alex credits having a step-up bed space as essential to finding space in her studio apartment. Photo – Eve Wilson. Production – Lucy Feagins.

The bathroom area is divided from the living space by a division containing a sink, shelving + storage, offering a little more privacy. Photo – Eve Wilson. Production – Lucy Feagins.

Living Large In A Studio Apartment, With Alex Kennedy

Despite being an open studio plan, this apartment also has clearly defined spaces. For example, having a step up to the bedroom makes it feel cosy and separate from the rest of the house.

In terms of tips and tricks to make living in a small space work… don’t have lots of tall friends. Just kidding, I have lots of tall friends who at times have had to do a bit of limbo around the lights.

But on a serious note, I suggest not to over-design a space. Small spaces need generous storage, but I see a lot of houses are almost over-designed, and don’t allow you to grow into them organically, or allow for flexibility of use. I think it’s important to think about all of the different ways you might inhabit a space over time – it might go from being your home, to an Airbnb, to a studio. So, I think flexibility is key. For example, I have a dining table that folds out, so I’ve been able to have up to 10 people for dinner and then fold it back and move to the side to make way for a mini dance floor after dinner!

Over the last few years I have fixed up the garden and changed some of my furniture and household items that I know I will have for the rest of my life. I have a rule of not owning anything I can see in my space that I don’t find visually pleasing. This has meant I have had to implement a pretty strong policy with my family of not giving me household items for Christmas or my birthday!

See Alex’s home tour on TDF here. 

Melbourne-based stylist Lynda Gardener is an expert at styling small spaces, as evidenced by her boutique accommodation Room + Board! Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Stylist extraordinaire Lynda Gardener. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Lynda advises hanging lighting low next to the bed as a way to warm up a room, without compromising on floor space. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Lynda’s styling is proof that you don’t need to be a minimalist to successfully style a tiny space. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Lynda’s WOW furniture in this project is this round table, which she uses as a showpiece for her collections (as well as a dining table!). Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Styling a Small Space, With Lynda Gardener

I have always enjoyed working on small places, as they can be a challenge at the best of times! I always start with painting the space white. It creates a blank canvas and always gives an instant feeling of space and light. Always consider the entire feel from the moment you walk in the door and the flow of the space. Keep it to a few simple tones and colours – a natural/neutral or earthy palette does not date.

That being said, you don’t need to be a minimalist just because your space is small! Collections can still be included – they just need to be considered. I love to create walls of art, and feature a mix of old and new as it does not take up any floor space, and there is always a great feature wall to work on.  Or if you can have shelves, use lots of them to create a library to house not only your books, but also make displays for art and object collections! Get creative and hang functional items like brooms, and baskets from hooks on the wall – again, no floor space is sacrificed.

If the space lends itself, create a centerpiece that is the WOW in the room….for example in Room + Board, I used a large round table as a showpiece for my collections… foliage, books and so on as well as a table to eat around.

For a striking way to warm up a room, get creative and hang something special low (next to the bed, for example).

See Lynda’s accommodation Room + Board on TDF here. 

As a freelance writer working from a small apartment, Lisa Marie Corso has had this working from home thing down pat way before the rest of us! Photo – Eve Wilson for the Design Files.

Freelance writer Lisa Marie Corso with her treasured collection of objects, collected since childhood! Photo – Eve Wilson for the Design Files.

The living, dining and kitchen areas of Lisa’s apartment. Photo – Eve Wilson for the Design Files.

Lisa suggests whacking a tablecloth on the table for dinner to change up the vibe after computers go away at the end of the day! Photo – Eve Wilson for the Design Files.

‘In an apartment, I like having distinct ‘zones’, even if the dining and living area is open plan’, says Lisa. Photo – Eve Wilson for the Design Files.

Get in The Zone, with Lisa Marie Corso

In an apartment, I like having distinct ‘zones’, even if the dining and living area is open plan. The easiest way to do this is to shove a rug under a coffee table, and there you have, it: a living room. When your foot touches the rug, know you’re in the couch zone.

Working from home, aka the three words petitioning for a joint place in the 2020 dictionary, in a small space can be tricky. If you have a spare room, try your best to work there during work hours, and when you clock off, shut the door! It’s very easy to feel like you’re working where you sleep, so again, making some ‘zones’ might help you.

If your dinner table has pivoted to become your desk, clear it in the morning when you start work, and remove your work stuff from it when you finish. No, sliding your laptop across table does not count! I think throwing a table cloth on for dinner can really make you feel like it’s a new part of the day, and help you forget you just spent 8 hours Zooming on the same table.

See Lisa’s home tour on TDF here.