#spent a number of hours polishing up the handles today.

[eviltext]

finally finished (?) (pending approval) this vase model. steps under the cut.

2. carve vase out of plaster (the act is something resembling a cross between woodcarving, throwing pottery and billiard). let that thang dry

2. carve vase out of plaster (the act is something resembling a cross between woodcarving, throwing pottery and billiard). let that thang dry

3. cover in shellac (ough rhe smells) thrice for protection. because plaster is brittle and absorbent, shellac prevents chipping (to an extent) and oil stains from the plasticine. i did a shitty job at this.

4. fix up any parts you fucked up in the carving stage with plasticine (i messed up the base).

5. make handle out of plasticine using a paper cutout as a model.

6. make mold of handle with plaster (not shown). i fucked this one up as well because we haven’t learned how to make multiple-part molds yet and i went in way over my head.

7. use mold to make handles. all four of them, since the first perfect model was used to make the ugly mold and was destroyed in the process.

8. use paper cutout models to perfect the handles.

9. attach handles evenly to vase.

done.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Trust In Me ~ PJM [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.2K

PAIRING: Jimin x reader

GENRE: established-relationship, angst, fluffy ending, mentions of family and being raised by grandparents instead of mother

As you walked down the staircase of your house you placed earrings into your ears, calling out for Jimin to come out.

"Jimin, we're going to be late if we don't leave right now." You cried out as you walked into the living room to find him standing there in his practice clothes. Frowning at him you looked him up at down, today was supposed to be the day he had managed to get off work.

"I thought you got the day off," You whined slipping your shoes on as you looked at him. Jimin felt his stomach begin to churn as he looked at you and lied. Right to your face.

"I got called in again."

"But it's my Grandmothers 90th birthday...We were going to the meal." You reminded him, he had promised you weeks ago that he had gotten the day off and was going to be there.

"I got busy Y/n, I'm sorry." he walked towards you but you ignored his attempt at a hug. All it seemed as of late was that he was busy. Hardly home, always out until late hours of the morning and when he was home he was acting odd. Jittery whenever you asked him how his day had been, on edge whenever you told him that you were going to clean up the house. It felt as though he was hiding something. But you and Jimin had been together for almost 6 years, there was no way he would do something stupid. 

That you knew of.

"I know baby, I'll make it up to you," He promised as he attempted to reach for you but you moved away from him. Grabbing your bag and looking around for your car keys.

"You've been saying that for weeks Jimin" You knew you were probably overreacting. You knew what his lifestyle was like. You had been living it for the last six years but that didn't make it easier. 

"I'll make sure Seojun is following you." He told you as he looked outside. The world knew about your relationship which meant you travelled almost everywhere with a personal guard. Seojun was there to make sure you weren't trampled by paparazzi or Sassengs in the street. There wasn't anyone out there right now but he knew it wouldn't be long until someone was around.

"Thanks." You mumbled turning to leave when he took your hand in his, pulling you closer to him so that you were chest to chest with one another.

"You can't forget this." He placed a gift bag into your hand. The present you had gotten for Grandmas birthday. Something that the two of you had been planning on giving her for almost nine months.

"This is from both of us. I can't give it to her without you." You looked into the bag at the wrapped-up box and Jimin sighed.

"She'll know I'm sorry." Without a word to him, you walked out of the house with the bag. Climbing into the car more pissed off than ever that Jimin would leave you to go to a function like this alone. 

Jimin stood watching you leave and biting down on his lip. It was never his intention to hurt you but this was something he had to do in secrecy. Grabbing his phone scrolling through until he found the name, "Seojun 2" and pressed the call.

"Can you meet me at the house?" He questioned as soon as the other line picked up.

"Sure. Shall I order pizza for when we're done?" An excited female voice asked as she got happy to hear Jimin calling her so early in the morning.

"Of course how could I ever say no when you get so excited like this?" He chuckled grabbing his bag and keys before heading out to his own car. Throwing a bag into the boot before climbing into the front seat, 

"Make sure you bring protection this time, I'm not having a repeat of last time. We got in such a mess!" She grumbled at him as she began to think back on all of their times together. 

"It wasn't my fault we were in the mess." Jimin scoffed as he began to start up the car and put his phone onto the stand, 

"I think you'll find that it was your fault. You're so messy," She complained,

"I never hear you complain until the next time we see each other. I'll see you soon. Make sure you're ready, I want to start right away." He laughed before getting ready to end the phone call,

"So eager Mr Park."

"Only for you." He teased playfully. Hanging up and beginning his slow drive.

"Happy birthday Grandma," You whispered as you walked into the small restaurant your family was hosting in. A small family-run restaurant that had been in the mall for almost 12 years. Your whole family had been going there for years, your grandmother insisting that it was the only restaurant she would ever eat inside of.

"Thank you, dear," She looked behind you and you knew what she was looking for. Grandma happened to be Jimin's number one fan.

"He couldn't make it." You whispered as you put the gift bag down onto the table of other gifts and looked back at Granny who seemed to be upset.

"Why?" 

"Because he had other things to do." You shrugged it off giving her a quick peck on the cheek before going to find you both a drink. 

The truth was you had no idea where Jimin was. It seemed that he was always busy lately and it was beginning to bother you. You had no idea what he was so busy with. There was no comeback coming up and they weren't filming any dancing videos for their channel.

"Your grandfather used to get like that whenever he was hiding something." Your mother's voice sounded from beside you. Anger boiled up inside of you as soon as she felt the need to insert herself in your business when she was never really much of a mother anyway. Not to you at least.

"He isn't hiding anything." You hissed at your mother. She'd never liked you and Jimin together. She never liked you with anybody now that you came to think about it.

"All I'm saying is, he's a very handsome young man. He could have anybody he wanted." She smirked at you, you knew what she was thinking. The moment you had bought him to meet your grandmother your mother had begun flirting with Jimin. Doing anything she could to get his eyes on her.

"Thanks, mum." You grumbled sarcastically before walking away to go and join your grandmother who was opening her gifts. Your brother begging to go first as she picked up an envelope.

"That one's from me!" Your brother yelled excited as your grandmother began to tear it open, frowning and staring over at him as she slowly pulled out what was inside.

"Retirement home flyers?!" You cried out looking from the flyers and back to him as he nodded his head clearly proud at what he had gotten her. 

"Granny needs somewhere she can live," Granny wasted no time in rolling the papers up and smacking him with them playfully until he pulled out a small box.

"This is your real one," He whined as he gave her the box. She pulled it open, 

"It's Granddads old medals. I had them polished and cleaned." She began to tear up before hugging him tightly. Practically making his eyes pop out from his head as she thanked him over and over again.

"Mine next," You whispered pushing the box towards her. Something you had been keeping quiet for months, scared in case she hated it.

"It's from me and Jimin,"

"Who isn't here," Your mother laughed before your brother jabbed her in the side.

"Shut up and sit down. I don't see you with a date either." Grandma shut her up, taking the box from you carefully and smiling up at you. 

Pulling the box open she began to tear up once again, tears beginning to roll down her face as she saw the snowglobe sitting there. 

"A snowglobe for your collection," You smiled as you picked it up to show her that there was a small model of her old home. The one you had spent most of your life growing up inside of. 

"Y/n how did you do this?" Your brother gasped as he moved closer to get a better look at the house. It was almost an exact replica, all it was missing was the porch swings.

"I found someone online who can make custom globes, Jimin and I went to the old house we got pictures." You explained as you shook the snowglobe for your grandmother.

"It's still standing?" She gasped looking up at you with widened eyes.

"Barely. It was practically withering away while we were there but the artist managed to capture everything it used to look like." You smiled remembering the day you took Jimin. It was almost 9 months ago, the two of you went for a road trip to go and find it, You'd almost cried seeing it so dishevelled and abandoned. The inside was terrible with broken glass on the floor, burnt flooring. The inside joinery was exposed and all of the wiring and copper had been stolen. You and Jimin had sat together for a few hours talking about how much the place meant to you and how much you wished you could have saved it.

"This is amazing, thank you." She left a giant kiss on your cheek and you smiled as she began shaking it and showing it off to anyone that was looking at her. Like a child on Christmas.

"I'm glad you like it, I'll text Jimin." You smiled before going to go and find a drink which you had intended to do before. 

Sitting by the window you looked out at the people that were doing their shopping. The party seemed to be dragging by slowly since Jimin wasn't with you to help lighten the mood up a little.

"You're daydreaming." Grandma laughed as she fed you some more mozzarella sticks. Practically piling your plate higher each time. She claimed that you never ate enough when she was around and would always give you more food than you could possibly ever handle. 

"Sorry, are you enjoying your birthday?" You questioned as you looked at her, she nodded her head. The whole family seemed to have spoiled her, which she truly deserved for everything she had done in her lifetime. 

"It's been fun besides your mother, I swear she thinks I'm suddenly going to drop down dead." Your mother had been questioning her about the will all day. It came as no surprise that she only came around sniffing for money.

"Nope, you're going to live until 190," You teased as she shook her head at you. Taking your hands in hers and squeezing them softly making you look at her as she took on a serious look.

"You were always my favourite." You shook your head and scoffed at her,

"Granny..." You said slowly hoping that no one around you was listening to the conversation.

"I'm serious...When I do go everything will be going to you Including the silver. Make sure you hide that from your auntie Gina." She grumbled looking over at Gina who was eyeing up some of the gifts at the table. She was always sly about it but things magically disappeared whenever she was around. 

"What about mum?"

"What about her? She gets nothing." You sighed before looking back out of the window. Your grandmother had practically raised you in that old house while your mother did nothing but party and not come home until 4 am only to sleep until 4 pm and start all over again. 

"What about my brother-" You stopped yourself from speaking when you caught a glimpse of someone in the distance. It looked like Jimin. 

"He gets to have Grandpas stuff, he always loved to look at it." You nodded as you continued to look over at the couple walking around together. Arms linked and ice cream in their hands. It couldn't have been Jimin. 

Could it? 

"I'm going to get some air," You whispered as you excused yourself from the restaurant and headed out of the door. Keeping your head down just in case it was Jimin. 

"What are we doing?" Seojun asked as he finished off the slice of cake he was chewing. The family had been feeding him mass amounts of food since he had been standing by the door for most of the duration of the party.

"Going to see if that's Jimin," You whispered looking up at him as you pointed over near a shop. It was like his whole demeanour changed as he stared over in the direction you had pointed in. 

"Seojun?" You questioned when you noticed how weird he seemed to be.

"It's not him." He mumbled,

"You barely even looked."

"It's not him." He told you again as he tried to usher you back to the restaurant but you got out of his grasp.

"I'll go over there myself and see-" You didn't need to go over yourself, the girl began laughing loudly and you turned to look. Jimin was standing there, the small tattoo on his left wrist a giveaway that it was him. The date of your anniversary was tattooed there. 

"Y/n! We have more cake!" Your grandmother yelled from the door but you felt too sick to move. Everything was still going over in your head. Did you confront him now or later?

"You should do this later Miss Y/l/n, you don't want to ruin the party," Seojun whispered as he began to pull you into the house. Frantically texting Jimin to alert him that you had seen him out with another woman. The other woman he had been hiding from you.

When Jimin walked through the door that night he expected you to be asleep. That maybe you had calmed down from everything you had seen earlier but he couldn't have been more wrong. You were sitting and waiting for him surrounded by cups of coffee. It was clear you had decided to wait up for a long time for him.

"Where have you been? And don't lie to me because I asked the boys." He swallowed the lump in his throat. Maybe there was a chance that he could get away with all of this.

"I was out with a friend,"

"A girl?" You questioned. Not angry that he was with someone else but angry that he felt the need to lie to you about it.

"Yes. She's just a friend." You got up and walked over to the cupboard. Pulling out an overnight bag and throwing it down onto the floor. If she was a friend then why did he have clothes packed up in a bag, looking as though he was planning to leave you?

"A friend you sleepover with at an undisclosed location?" You pulled the bag to show him everything that you had found inside of the bag. 

"Y/n, it's not what it looks like." He stuttered out as you began to show him everything that was in the bag.

"So you just have spare underwear and clothes packed up for nothing?"

"It's not what you think it is, she's just a friend." He assured you trying to reach out to touch you but you backed away from him.

"If lies keep spewing from those lips then I am walking out of that door." You said coldly before kicking the bag towards him. Jimin sighed looking down at the bag and then up at you. It was time for him to come clean with you but there was no way you were going to believe him unless he showed you.

"Let me prove it...Let me show you where I've been doing, what I've been doing." You looked at him before nodding.

A quiet and agonizingly slow car ride later and you were standing at the house. The house you had grown up in. 

"What are we doing here?" You questioned looking over at the house and then to Jimin who got out. The house was still falling apart except now there seemed to be a giant skip outside with rubbish inside of it.

"Follow me." He whispered not wanting to wake anyone else up on the street. It was almost 3 in the morning no one wanted to be woken up.

Following after him, you frowned as he walked into the house. Although the outside of the house was still falling apart the inside was all-new. The exposed walls were patched up, fresh paint all over the walls. Furniture in the place it had been in when you were younger. New flooring was put down to replace the burnt patches that had been left by squatters.

"I've been doing this...I wanted it to be a surprise for you but you saw me so I had to show you." He told you as he walked further into the house showing that everything was as you remembered it to be. A fireplace was put in place where your Grandmother used to sit and read you bedtime stories. 

"I got everything from old images you'd shown me. Your brother gave me old photo albums so I could match everything." You were tearing up as you walked around the house. Everything looked to be exactly the same as your childhood home.

"The second floor isn't finished yet, Sooyoung and I were going to get started on it." The name of the girl he had been with, you turned to look at him.

"Sooyoung?"

"The girl you saw me with. She's Seojun's sister, she's a decorator." Your mouth formed an 'O' as you looked around at everything. Seojun had told you about his sister almost a million times but you'd never seen her before.

"Jimin this is perfect,"

"I wanted you to have everything you wanted...I know how much this place meant to you." Saying nothing you walked into his arms and hugged him tightly, kissing his chest. You couldn't believe you let your head run to the fact that he would cheat on you. Jimin would never hurt you and you knew that.

"I'm sorry I called you a liar."

"I'm sorry I hid it from you...I wanted it to be a surprise." He laughed weakly as he rubbed his hand up and down your back. Kissing the top of your head softly,

"I trust you Jimin. I really do...I was just scared. You'd been so busy and then mum said you could have whoever you wanted." He knew your mum would have something to do with the way you reacted so he shook his head. Promising you that everything was okay.

"I only want you." He whispered leaning down to kiss your lips softly. The start of the rest of your lives was going to happen in a house you had always dreamed of owning.

"This is our place?"

"It will be when we finish on the top floor. We have to way for a contractor to come out for that though." You smiled at him, kissing him once again. You were never going to get tired of kissing his perfect lips.

"Thank you Jimin, this is...This is the best surprise you could have ever given to me," He smiled down at you before bringing you into a real kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you deeper as you jumped up into his arms.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @taestannie @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​

[stiltonbasket]

Lxc has to give up coffee and other high-caffeine products during pregnancy and he is suffering. He loves coffee and strong teas. NMJ is giving them up too in solidarity.

this hc was too cute so i just had to write a ficlet for it ;-; take some soft nielan with a side of good friend song lan!!

__

Discounting last week’s cappuccino incident, Lan Xichen has been managing his cravings for coffee like an expert.

That isn’t to say that going without tea or coffee has been easy, though. Lan Xichen works in a law firm and gets less than six hours of sleep, most nights--he practically lived on caffeine when he first joined the firm, and most of his fellow attorneys still do. But his coffee intake was only one of several unhealthy habits that his doctor ordered him to stop to prevent any possible harm to his as-yet unborn son, and handling his largely pro-bono workload has been nearly impossible ever since.

“One day at a time, Lan Xichen,” he mutters to himself, while he prints out an email from one of his clients. “One day at a time.”

“Lan-xiong?” someone says from behind him, startling Xichen so badly that he knocks his favorite paperweight to the ground. “What’s wrong?”

“Liao-xiansheng just sent me an email,” Lan Xichen sighs, spinning around in his desk chair until Song Lan leans over and grabs one of the armrests. “Apparently, the records he has weren’t proof enough the last time he tried taking this to court, and he didn’t bother telling me about it before today.”

Song Lan winces. “It’s just one more hearing,” he says sympathetically. “Doesn’t your parental leave start two weeks from now?”

“That’s two weeks that I have to keep following all my doctor’s recommendations while dealing with the Liao case,” Xichen reminds him, while Song Lan drops to one knee to pick up the fallen paperweight. “And that means no coffee and at least eight hours of sleep every night.”

“I don’t remember the last time I slept for eight hours at a stretch,” laments Song Lan. “I never get to bed before midnight, and A-Qing always wakes me up before seven, even on the weekends. I’d have died if someone told me to stop drinking coffee.”

Lan Xichen throws up his hands in miserable agreement. “Exactly! And Luo-daifu even told me to stop wearing my heeled shoes, but I can’t exactly go to court without them.”

“How many inches do they give you, again?”

“Three,” he says dismally, extending one long, black-clad leg and staring at his polished leather shoes. He isn’t short in any sense of the word, but his natural height puts him at about two inches below Wangji’s and nearly four inches shorter than his husband, so he usually wears shoes with inserts out in public to bring himself up to a hundred and eighty-five centimeters. “And I can’t take painkillers for my feet until the baby comes, either.”

“I wonder if I was a good enough son, sometimes,” Lan Xichen reflects later that day, after returning home and taking a much-needed nap in his husband’s warm arms. “I hope I was, if having me and Wangji was this difficult for my mother.”

Mingjue brings out a comb and starts brushing Xichen’s long hair, carefully combing out the tangled ends before giving him a light massage for his shoulders. “I don’t think you and Wangji ever gave her a moment’s worry,” he says gently, leaning over to kiss Lan Xichen’s forehead. “Did anything happen today, sweetheart?”

Lan Xichen has to blink back tears at the tenderness in his voice, because even after sixteen years of friendship and three years of marriage, the depth of his husband’s adoration never ceases to take him by surprise. It shows itself most often in quiet moments like this, alone in their little house with no one else to witness their affection, and Lan Xichen sometimes wonders if his heart might actually burst with love from everything Nie Mingjue has ever said or done in his presence.

“My feelings are all over the place, that’s all,” he replies, with a watery laugh. “I know it’s supposed to be normal--but A-Jue, I spent my lunch break crying over coffee. Zichen nearly had a heart attack when he found me, I scared him half to death!”

Nie Mingjue only hugs him tighter. “You love coffee, though. And getting up early, and eating soft-boiled eggs, and everything else Luo-yisheng told you to give up.”

“Those things don’t matter, since they’re for the baby,” Lan Xichen reminds him, snuggling closer to his husband’s side. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you gave up drinking coffee, too. You gave your loyalty card to Huaisang, didn’t you?”

“Has it helped?” Nie Mingjue says earnestly, taking Lan Xichen’s breath away all over again. “That I haven’t been making it at home or drinking it when you’re not here?”

Lan Xichen is almost ashamed to admit that it does help. He’s had to cope with most of the changes that come with having a baby on the way, so sharing a little of the burden with the love of his life means a great deal to him, even if it seems like it shouldn’t. In fact, Mingjue has been following a healthy diet for the past seven months as part of his efforts to make sure that Lan Xichen eats well, and he even changed his sleeping schedule so that Xichen could get as much rest as possible: or at least as much as his career allows, considering the number of clients he takes.

How did I get so lucky? Lan Xichen wonders, as Mingjue’s lips brush over his cheek. What have I ever done, sweetheart, that you love me as much as you do?

“It does,” he confesses, after a brief, comfortable lull filled with sleepy kisses. “I’d never have been able to do this without you, my heart. Any of it.”

[duskroads]

Angie build update for the Donna cosplay Part 2

Part 1 Part 3

Ok so I probably should have updated this some time last week considering how much got done on this last week but I just did not have time til now.

This is probably gonna get long because of that so here’s a readmore

So last week I was visiting my family and it ended up being me and my dad working on this in his workshop for the most part (there’s other parts than just the above picture that didn’t take the whole week).

The picture above is the frame that I built, Dad has a ton of coat hangers that I stole both for this and for the arms and legs. 

The ones he has are this yellowy brassy colour from the drycleaners and I was like, perfect I can just use those they’d work really well colour wise for her joints. But dad pointed out that the colour was just a coating and he was worried that it wouldn’t do well in the oven, one heat test involving a meat thermometer and a very large heat gun he has for lighting his barbeque we found that while it looks fine in the heat, it get soft so it rubs right off afterwards. Cue me sanding a whole lot of coat hangers down.

The main thing that we were working on while I was there was the mechanisms for puppetting the head.

(See when Dad takes a photo he bothers to clear the space before hand lol)

The handle sits inside the bottom of the frame with the aluminum pipe we’ve been calling her spine goes up to just under the head, the fiddly bits beside it slot into the front of the pipe and go up the tube (they’re flipped over so it’s easier to see the moving parts).

The sideways Y shaped thing controls the up down movements of the head with my middle and ring fingers, it’s attached to the thick wire behind it with some springs you can’t see from this angle so the head’s resting position is more neutral. 

The piece above it opens and closes the mouth using the piece of fishing line it’s tied to.

I can turn her head back and froth by just rotating the entire spine.

We also got started on the bits that live inside the head.

Sadly we did not get a chance to finish either the controls or the head pieces before I had to leave, partially because the mechanisms were having more hiccups than we expected, and partially cause we just ran out of time. Dad thinks that the wire he was using is bending inside of the tube which might be what’s causing our issues. He’s going to finish it on his own and mail me the parts when he is done.

This means I can’t work on the head until I get those parts but I can start sculpting the rest of the body.

Before I left I also made hair for her. @cinnacorn taught me how to do this (she learned it from a number of doll repainters but hextian in particular, she says that his custom ursula doll video details it best) 

But you take Yarn, unravel it, put in around something in a larks head knot, brush it with a wire brush to really break it apart (if you’ve got a really heavy duty wire brush you can get away without unraveling it first, but if you’re blending colours it’s easier to space things out better if you unravel it), hit it with a straightening iron, trim off the knot, lay it flat on a silicone mat, put some hot glue at the top, while still hot use the edge of the mat to wipe away the excess glue, when it's dry trim away the excess,

Then do it 80+ times over the course of 6 and a half hours with two people working on it (thank you again Ele) to get enough for your giant doll head.

I’m using a light sage green and a grey brown to get that ‘this maybe was blonde once’ look, where it’s more streaky is going to be layered over so it blends better.

It looks super great and if you used colours that were closer together and actually styled it, it totally would look like a person’s hair. However this is a technique that clearly was meant for smaller doll’s heads, not ones as large as I’m making. As it is I ended up needing a bandaid halfway through cause the wire brush was eating the skin on my thumb from pushing the yarn through.

I also got fabric for both Donna and Angie, some from a shopping trip and some from my mother’s stash. (Some of that lace trim is in a Zellers container, which for those of you who aren’t Canadian, Zellers was a chain that closed in 2013 so that was a fun find)

Mom also has a stash of nail polish she uses as a craft supply. Me: Hey mom do you have any dark purple nail polish I can steal Mom: yeah it’s on the bookshelf in the guest room Me: Oh.

(90% of it is drug store stuff so not as expensive as you would think but still, that’s just the purple)

Mom also gave me a crackle paint that I need to experiment with so that’s going to be exciting.

I got home Sunday night and I spent most of the yesterday wrapping the frame in chicken wire.

I now hate chicken wire.

Today I managed to get two coats of the clay on the front and one on the back (need to do them half at a time cause it doesn’t fit standing up in my oven)

Still a few more layers to go, I need to bulid up her upper torso a bit and her shoulders need a lot more on top of them, I should have put more chicken wire there but I was worried about interfering with the spine. I have a piece of the tube to use as a mock up to make sure I don’t do that, but it’s a lot easier to break away the clay when it doesn’t have the wire in it.

I know her hips go really wide here but most of that’s going to be under her dress and I need that space to put my hand, and also so she can have a wide enough base to sit when I put her down.

I might close up her back a little bit more but the farther I go the less I can turn her head. It’s a trade off cause the fabric’s going to be tight on the body and then have just empty space there so it might be more noticeable if I leave it open. Still thinking on that one.

I’ve also cut to length and bent the coat hangers that will go inside her limbs but haven’t got any clay on them yet. A few of them I can get one loop on right now but the rest are going to have to wait until I’m putting it all together.

I did this by wrapping it around a giant nail that my dad and I found in his workshop that we cut down so I could put it in my suitcase, and then put it into a block of wood so I could clamp it to my table.

Then you use some pliers to bend the longer end of the wire so the circle is more aligned with it then wrap the shorter end around it a few times and trim it. I also filed down the sharp point where I cut it cause I’m worried about them catching on her clothing.

This is all fairly easy to do now, we will see how it is when I’m trying to do it with the rest of the limbs already on the wires.

Anyways that’s where I am for tonight, I have the rest of the week off so hopefully I’ll get most of the sculpting done and maybe (maybe) start sanding and varnishing it as well.

[codyfernmorelikedaddyfern]

KILLER QUEEN - DUNCAN X ROYAL FEM!READER // PART EIGHT - END

Read it all here.

Description: A short visit to DC brings Duncan to getting a little revenge on his uncle Bill and the way he spoke about (Y/N). But isn’t it a little too late to erase the app?

Warning: You look beautiful

Word Count: 2322

Gif by @codyfernsource​

“She comes in here with her royal attitude, she expects us to kneel and kiss her boot and you don’t see a problem with it, Annie?!” the loud voice of Bill Shepherd rang through his hotel suite. The older woman only rolled her eyes at her brother, watching him lose more and more of his temper. “I thought you said Duncan was only meant to publicly appear with her?! Not bring her home to meet Claire Fucking Underwood!” he continued, slamming his first against the table before raising it, an accusatory finger pointed towards his nephew.

Luckily, (Y/N) had not been present for this outburst and Duncan was somewhat thankful for it. He was used to Bill’s degrading vocabulary towards him but hearing the older man speak the way he did about his Brit caused something sour to pile on the back of his tongue. “I can’t believe you managed to find him someone dumber than him, Annie! I can’t believe she went!” the Shepherd patriarch stomped around, arms flaying up and down. His nephew opened his mouth to speak but was quickly shot down by the other man. “And what exactly did they discuss?! Were you even there or did you blank out and stare at the wall at the idea of what you’ll have for your next meal?!”

With a loud shout from Annette, the tension broke off instantly. “Bill, I will not tolerate this any longer. (Y/N) has been nothing but accommodating and, according to Duncan, she is now a very valuable ally” like a proud lioness, she spoke while standing in front of her cub. With a swift movement, she motioned for her son to leave, eyes still trained on Bill. Quickly glancing over her shoulder and noticing the absence of Duncan, she inched closer to her brother to whisper. “I know you know nothing about love, Bill. But I’m not sure Duncan will allow you to speak the way you just did about the girl he cares a great deal about any longer” his brows furrowed at his sister’s words, his head twitching to the side with surprise. “You are as much of a coward as you are blind to not see that this is much more than us getting the Windsor in our pocket, this is now about Duncan and her” Annette spat before storming out, meeting her son in the hallway and then stepping in the elevator with him.

“I was ready to punch him square in the face” they young man admitted through gritted teeth, fist still clenched. The reassuring touch of Annette  as she rested her hand on his tensed shoulder brought Duncan's anger to a still. “Is she staying with you at your apartment?” she softly asked before earning a nod from him. A small smile pinched up his lips whilst he scratched the stubble of his cheek as they made their way down to the parking lot. “I think you should go back to her and relax before your interview later on” her face turned into a gentle smile before he could nod one more, walking towards the large SUV to carry them back to his apartment.

Still tangled in the white bedsheets, (Y/N)’s body gently warmed up to the embrace of the sun grazing her skin. The smell of polished furniture, fresh linen and waxed hardwood floor gently tickled her nose as she stirred in Duncan’s large bed. Then the sound of the front door and a few exchange of words came to her ears and she slowly sat up to look at the alarm clock. It had been years since she had slept past 7:30 and her sleeping in was definitely blamed on the jet lag. Slowly, she heard the door creak open, the sight of Duncan igniting the smile blossoming on her tired face. In the heartbeat it took for him to notice her looking back at him, awake, his somewhat frown matched her expression and that same heartbeat seemed to falter slightly. Strolling across the room to seat right at the edge of the bed, his smile only grew brighter as she silently rested her head on his lap, wrapping her tired arms around his waist.

Shoes kicked off and the covers thrown over his taller frame, the American settled next to (Y/N) below the covers, arms looped around the small of her waist. And a quick cuddling session turned into hours of simply laying there, pressed against one another in comfortable silence. A hand carding through the (Y/H/C) locks of the duchess and the quiet sound of breathing filled in the room whilst they basked in the feeling of nuzzling against their lover. Duncan cleared his throat, reluctantly breaking the comfort of the moment.

“I'm scheduled for an interview at the Shepherd Hall in a little over an hour” the brunette groaned before pressing his face deep against the crook of his girl's neck. A low whine fell from the woman's lips before she looked over at him with a frown. “Thought we were meant to spend today together?” her voice mumbled, pulling the covers up against her exposed breasts. A quiet snicker passed Duncan's throat at the sight of the expression on his girlfriend's features. “I promise, after it's over, I'll be right here, making sure that Her Majesty has her fill of DC for a few months” the man whispered, intent on fulfilling his promise.

And just like that, he was out the door, black high neck loosely tucked in a pair of his black slacks, jacket ever so slightly flowing behind him. Thought clouded his mind. He didn't have a lot of time to make it right. 11:42 was when he stepped into the office. 11:47 was when he entered his password in the computer he had spent days, weeks, months working on, clammy and shaking hands caused by the stammering of his heart hitting the keys.

If Bill was being such a prick, so would Duncan. And especially when it came to the the woman he loved. Love? Duncan thought. “I guess it is love, then” he whispered in the next heartbeat. The annoyance of getting rid of such a large amount of work was upsetting but fucking his uncle over was much more tempting than anything else right now.

11:52 was when the coding in progress popped up on his screen.  “Control, shift, home” were the words he breathed, pressing the keys from his keyboard. And then Delete was pressed. No more code, no more app. No more app, meant a sweet revenge on Duncan's part. He watched the pages of data get swept away with a satisfied smirk dancing along his lips. A loud knock pulled him out of his trance, Seth opening the door. “They're here” he announced.

The Shepherd's bachelor stood from his seat, watching the last of the page erase before he could shut down the computer. “I'll be with them in a second. Tell my mother I'll be down in a couple of minutes, will you?” he looked at his colleague who's only response was an anxious looking nod.

(Y/N)'s phone buzzed with a similar notification. “Get on WVDC, the interview is beginning now and be on shortly after we record it”. But the quiet and gentle snoring convinced her other wise. It's only when she heard the loud ringing of her phone that the Duchess woke up. 6 missed calls, one from an unknown number, 5 from Annette. Her blood ran cold as she watched her screen light up once more with the name of the Shepherd's mother. Picking up the call, the shaky voice of the older woman brought tear to the (Y/H/C). “They took Duncan away, (Y/N)”

The slow clicking of her heels reverberated through the long halls. Just like her first meeting with Duncan, she was late. Mainly due to the long conversations that has just happened between herself, her father and the cause of the problem: Clair Underwood, the president of the United States of America. Hushed conversations rang to her ears as she was striding towards the door. “Let me handle this” (Y/N) gently asked Annette whilst making her way to the guard about to press the door open.

The mop of brown curls turned to look at the Princess, cheeks flushed and tears dried on the stubble of his cheeks. Duncan thought about standing up. He allso thought about running to her. He thought about burring his face in the crook of her neck in shame, perhaps to cry once more. But he just sat there. And it broke her already aching heart as the door banged closed behind her petite frame.

A sigh pushed past the man's chest. The woman looked at him, standing as tall as she could above his seated form. His blue gaze danced across her. He was afraid. Afraid of what looked like to be the anger she carried. Afraid of what she was going to do or say to him. Afraid for his own heart to break. Afraid of her. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of hurting him, however, because he spoke first.

“I'll ask my mother to book you the first flight to London. Luckily, you've not unpacked anything yet so you're pretty much ready to go” his head bobbed with a nod, eyebrows knitting together. Duncan swallowed the tightening lump in his throat, regret already flooding through his bloodstream. “We can't have Her Majesty publicly seeing a convicted felon so I guess it's time for us to break the contract. It was a pleas-”

The stinging of the loud slap she delivered to his cheek interrupted the speech pouring out of the man but luckily, it brought some clarity to his thoughts. A couple of seconds passed and (Y/N) looked at him. “Are you done talking shit now?” she simply asked. To think she was angry before clearly was an understatement on the brunette's part because the horrified expression on his girl's face spoke for itself now. A heavy sigh fell in the room. “Why are you here, (Y/N)?” were the words he whispered, his heart heavy.

Arms crossed over her trembling chest, the Duchess took in a deep breath. “I spoke to my father. And I spoke to Claire. Either you carry on your sentence, this is over before it has really begun and you serve your time in jail.” The blue of her boyfriend's gaze reached the (Y/E/C) of hers whilst she settled in the chair in front of him, legs crossing one over the other. “Or you come with me now. We go back to London as prison time, exiled from the States”

A snicker shook the man, quickly replaced by a laugh. “And why exactly are you trying to help me?” a shit eating grin on his lips, clasping his manacled hands on his laps. The petite frame of the Brit leaned closer across to him, lips parting as she spoke. “Because I'm in love with you, Duncan” were the words she whispered. And he watched them roll off of her tongue, his eyes transfixed on her mouth. “So I'm going to repeat it. Either you come with me, the charges are dropped and we work things out or you stay here and get comfortable in your cell”.

His only response was to close the distance between them, his lips chasing hers. Duncan felt (Y/N)'s mouth curling up against his. “Luckily, I didn't unpack anything either” his voice murmured before diving in for another kiss only for a small hand to press him away. “So you're really not going to say it back, you dickhead?” a smirk painted her lips.

And just like that, she woke up enveloped in the arms of the American every morning for the next three years. The alarm rang later on that morning of August, a sense of excitement building up in their stomach as they got ready for their day, meeting with her brothers and her father in Kew Garden. After spending a week together on a romantic trip in Bali, speculations rose in the tabloids. And it was dressed in an elegant deep green jumpsuit matching Duncan's impeccable suit jacket, that the Royal put the rumours to rest.

“You highness, this way please? Bring your left hand forward?” the man holding the camera asked. Duncan's hand draped on the waist of his girl. The park was empty for the occasion, the lovebirds obliging the photographer's demands as he snapped pictures upon pictures. No, the Duchess was not pregnant. At least, not yet. It's with a simple letter that everything was laid to rest, accompanied by some of the many pictures of the pretty ring she now wore.

"His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales is delighted to announce the engagement of Princess (Y/N) to Mr Duncan Shepherd.

The wedding will take place in Summer 2021. Further details about the wedding day will be announced in due course.

Her Royal Highness and Mr Shepherd became engaged in London earlier this month. Princess (Y/N) has informed Her Majesty The Queen and other close members of her family. Mr Shepherd has also sought and received the blessing of myself for their union.

The couple will live in Nottingham Cottage at Kensington Palace."

That's how, the next morning, the front page of a magazine wrote about the news. Duncan was halfway through his cup of coffee when he looked up and watched (Y/N) read the same newspaper he just had filed through. He looked at her with a cock of his head, her gaze meeting his with an amused chuckle. “What?” the Brit chuckled. “I guess I love you” the brunette responded, rolling his eyes and faking annoyance. And with another soft smile, Duncan crowned the princess with a kiss on her forehead. “No, I'm sure I do, Mrs. Shepherd” the American finished before walking past his girl.

______________________________________________________________

Killer Queen squad :  @welcometothelioncage​ @nathidfc​, @dark-mei-rose​, @littledemondani, @fckinsupreme, @littlegirlsdontplaynice, @leatherduncan, @michael-langdon-appreciation, @with-dandelions-in-her-hands @nickiechao11, @miss-diamonds, @radioactivegirlsworld @idespac, @psychobitchtess, @hplotrfan, @tea-party-at-wonderland, @langdxn, @wroteclassicaly, @hecohansen31 & @blakewaterxx​

[undertaker1827]

Heyyy can I request Ciel, Sebastian, and Undertaker with a female S/O who trains really hard and just completely destroys their body most of the time? Like maybe she does it so she can defend herself and be a little badass!!

OMG I’m so sorry this took so long, I really loved writing them!! Life is so busy!! Also this is my first Ciel fanfic so I hope he’s not too OOC. Again I’m so sorry, hope you enjoy!

-

Ciel

The young earl was briskly walking through Phantomhive Manor, trying to find you. He checked all of the rooms where you usually were, but you weren’t there today. That was when he realised. You were training. Again.

It wasn’t that he minded your training, in fact he approved greatly, given how dangerous the world was. It was just how you went about doing it. It was nothing for you to reappear after hours of your favourite pastime nursing a fractured wrist or with an added limp to your usual stride. Ciel let out a sigh of frustration. Truthfully, he wasn’t frustrated at all, just concerned for your wellbeing. Not that he would admit it to anyone else.

The earl’s cane and shoes tapped rhythmically on the superbly polished floors as he made his way to the back of the mansion. Once outside, he rounded a corner to the place which had been designated as your training area. He took a moment to observe you before approaching.

Your hair was pushed back from your glistening forehead and your eyes glinted in the sunlight. Blood was running down the side of your face and a tear in your trousers allowed a purple bruise to shine through. You were fiercely staring down your opponent, a DIY training dummy. The remains of its brethren were littering the ground at your feet.

“Y/N!” He called out, just as you swung your sword to decapitate your target. The perfect kill shot completed, you spun to face him, sword held in a defensive pose. You spun and twirled it a couple of times when you saw your audience.

“Hey Ciel!” You smiled and made your way over, embracing him despite his protestations, then turned to look at the damage you had done to the ‘enemy army’. “Not bad for a day’s work, huh?” You joked, turning to face him only to be met with an even more serious expression than usual. You slowly raised an eyebrow, attempting to work out what was going through his mind.

“You have got to stop doing this to yourself.” Well that wasn’t what you were expecting. When you asked what he meant, he gave around ten minute’s worth of monologue on how although fighting skills and defence were incredibly important and useful things to have, it wasn’t worth putting your body through so much to get them. Whilst you disagreed vehemently with this point, you dialled your response down quite significantly. He was showing that he cared about you, after all; that was no cause to be angry. Especially considering how often (or less so) he outwardly showed that kind of emotion.

You loved your work though, you truly enjoyed it and thought it was worth every scar. Besides, the best fighters are the most awesome people, everyone knows that. In light of this, you knew full well that you wouldn’t be giving up on this fighting any time soon and as of yet, you still dreamed of the day you could put it to good use.

-

A few hours later, you had made your goodbyes and were on your way back to your own home. Your brisk pacesjad just left the manor and made it onto the street when you sensed something flying towards your head. Within seconds, you had twirled to avoid it and unsheathed your sword to use it as a counterbalance. As you spun to face whatever had almost hit you, you were met with the barrel of a hand gun. The guy holding it seemed quite young and fairly inexperienced when it came to what he was doing; his hand was trembling slightly and his eye was fixed on the gun, not you. You smirked.

Before he could react, you flicked your sword up underneath his gun so when he fired it out of reflex, the bullet soared over your head. You gave a punch to his jaw with the other hand, then used the sword to knock the gun from his grip entirely. You hooked a boot behind his knee to throw his leg forward, simultaneously throwing the heel of your palm into the vulnerable part of his shoulder to floor him. With a boot planted firmly against his chest and the tip of your sword resting at his throat, you took a moment to think back over what had just happened.

You still help this pose about a minute later when butler and earl rushed down the drive in hot pursuit of whoever was firing bullets. They stopped abruptly on seeing it was you who had apprehended the assailant.

“My, my, Lady Y/N. All those hours spent training do seem to have paid off, wouldn’t you agree, Young Master?” Sebastian commented, eyes flicking from you to Ciel, who was standing flabbergasted, mouth agape.

“What’s the matter?” You questioned, a glimmer in your eyes, “You just realised why you should worry less and encourage me to train more often?”

Sebastian

Sebastian had finally managed to get away from the Young Lord for long enough to address the situation at hand, that being the fact that you were training. He fancied he could smell your blood all the way from the manor. The demon was all in favour of you being able to protect yourself, especially given the inevitable danger likely to arise from the fact that you were with him. However, your method of doing it meant he felt he had to check up on you regularly.

It took him barely any time at all to get to your house, whereupon he let himself in with the key you’d entrusted to him (he wouldn’t dare break a lock on your door or window, despite his rush) and walked straight through to the outdoor area where you spent so much time. Sebastian opened the back door gently, not wanting to startle you. As it was, you were so enthralled in your expert workout regime that you didn’t notice his arrival. This being the case, he spent an appreciative few moments watching you in your element. Your face was slightly flushed from the extended period of exertion. Your workout clothes glimmered and every muscle tensed as you made your way through a DIY obstacle course of barrels, water, wooden planks and anything else you could get your hands on. It was after you finished this latest round that you felt someone watching you. You grinned when you realised who it was, rushing over to Sebastian and telling him how much you’d missed him. The demon’s arms locked around you immediately, but he soon pulled away.

His crimson eyes flashed as they ran over your body, taking in every injury, however minor, and calculating how best to help it heal, how long you would take to fully recover. Far too long for the demon’s liking. You raised a hesitant eyebrow at the staring which quickly wilted again when he met your gaze. He sighed gently, running a hand back through your hair as his eyes stayed fixed to yours.

“You should be more careful,” he murmured quietly, holding eye contact to gauge your reaction. You gave a lopsided, playful grin.

“Oh I’m sorry,” you replied with a sarcastic lilt, “I thought you were the one who said this was a good idea~” Sebastian couldn’t keep the smirk off his lips.

“I believe I did, didn’t I... Well it simply wouldn’t do for me to change my opinion now, hmm?” You pulled the best posh and proper stance you could manage.

“I’m afraid it would not,” you mimicked, to a light shaking of his head.

“On a serious note, though, humans can die from the most inconsequential of injuries. I have seen plenty fall from wounds you likely wouldn’t even notice you had obtained.” You nodded, conceding his point.

“But you know I’m going to carry on like this, right?” You confirmed, having no intention of giving up your favourite thing.

“Oh I’m well aware. I just wish you to know that I intend to be here to clean every wound and heal every injury.” You smiled. You could never help but feel privileged when you were exposed to this softer side of Sebastian, as though you were one of a very small number who he allowed to see it. You truly appreciated the trust he put in you.

“Thanks, love,” you replied, “I’m glad.” Instead of answering in words, he rested his forehead against yours, only for you to feel his gloved fingers curl around the handle of your sword, over your own hand. You the smile brightened your face by its own will, you had no choice in the matter. You took in every minor detail of the demon, the way the sun sent ethereal streaks through his pitch black hair, how his crimson eyes seemed to glow. One day, you thought, you fully intended to fight by his side, once the opportunity presented itself. Something was telling you you wouldn’t have to wait too long.

Undertaker

You knocked on the door of the familiar funeral parlour, waiting for its owner to let you in. When he did, Undertaker curled a gentle hand around the back of your head, the other arm wrapped around your comparatively small shoulders to draw to you into his chest. You closed your eyes and hugged him back, hard, having not seen him for over a week. Work had been too busy for you to get away.

“Missed you, love,” the mortician murmured into your hair, breathing your scent in deeply. You smiled happily.

“I missed you too,” you said replied, squeezing your arms again to reinforce what your words. He did the same in return. Without letting go, you both stepped back into the shop, Undertaker kicking the door shut with the heel of his boot. You moved to one of the many coffins on the shop floor, him sitting down and pulling you to rest on his lap. You huffed out a laugh, moving one hand to weave it through his hair. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, tilting his head to the side so that his bangs split over one eye. You stared into it intently, gaze locked and finding yourself unable to look away, as was always the case when you saw his eyes. He knew full well the effect they had on you, meaning he made sure you always did.

After a few more moments, the mortician suggested making tea for you both. You stayed in the front room, but it only took you a few moments to decide he was taking too long.

When Undertaker walked into the front of the parlour on hearing the noise of something breaking, he hadn’t exactly been expecting to see you using his candles, positioned in various heights and places, as target practice. Apparently, to refine to your skills, you had set the candles alight and were neatly separating the burning wicks from the wax in which they were secured. He didn’t mind in the slightest - the room wasn’t exactly what you would call regularly cleaned and death was lurking everywhere anyway. However, he knew from the millisecond that the foot you were going to use to propel yourself from one of the coffins started to slip that he was about to have some excellent teasing material.

As you started to fall, dagger extending from your palm in a doomed attempt to save yourself, Undertaker stepped calmly forward and wrapped a precise arm beneath your ribs, bringing your rapid descent to a halt before you could land awkwardly on the very coffin that that had caused you to trip. To make matters better (for the reaper) you had let out an incredibly uncharacteristic squeak as he rescued you. The grin had already suffused his features as he hauled you back upright and into his chest.

“My, my love,” he giggled, one eye partially visible and locked with yours, “I guess you could say you’ve fallen for me!” Unable to contain himself further, the mortician burst into raucous laughter, clutching you to him even tighter as a result. Of course, attempting to escape was futile, which you knew by now anyway, so you did your best to allow the very amused yet vaguely embarrassed effect of your failure fade whilst he was still distracted. It went off quickly, as Undertaker’s laughter was nothing if not infectious. In no time at all, you had joined in and we’re both falling about together.

With the laughing fit mostly over, you managed to flip the dagger around and the sharpened blade away from you both so that you could embrace Undertaker properly in return. This time when you looked at him, you could see both vibrant green eyes looking playfully back at you. You raised a hand to comb it back through his bangs, pushing them further to one side, intending to just stay quiet for a minute. In fact, seeing his whole face just made matters worse as the giggles that had been hastily hidden resurfaced in mere seconds. Again, you couldn’t help but do the same and before you knew it, Undertaker had jumped up.

“You should’ve-” he gasped desperately for air, “Should’ve seen your face, love!!” He was practically cackling at this point, watching you with your face in your hands and your shoulders shaking as you wheezed. You glanced up as you heard him step again, only to fall backwards with tears running down your face as he did an impression of your fall from greatness.

Hours later, and decidedly later than you had intended, you were both curled up in the back room together, still laughing about the day’s events.

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

The girl from the Prophecy - One

Geralt of Rivia x Mage!Reader

Story Summary: In the world of mages, Witchers and monsters there is a prophecy about a young sorceress, a heir of the one and only Jan Bekker. The one to subject the ‘Force’. The one to control all the Chaos. But it’s just a prophecy after all. An old one and well forgotten.

Chapter Summary: Living alone in the house in the middle of the forest was always quiet. Until Geralt of Rivia and his very loud bard-friend decide to stumble at the swamp near your house.

Story Warning: Possible spoilers from books and games! Swear words, angst, fluff, possible smut, Witcher-like violence.

A/N: So this idea has been in my head since I read the book (which was around 10 years ago), but because the Witcher community was almost non-existant I decided to never post it. But now that Netflix series came out, I can finally post this story. I am super excited. Because I read those book and played the games in Polish I do apologise if some wordings aren’t right (sorry, English isn’t my mother tongue)

I hope you all will enjoy this little story <3

You were used to being alone. You lived on your own since you were seven. The walls of your family house were the only thing that surrounded you all day. The walls, your bow you used to kill the animals in the forest and the teenage boy that always came here to pick up lotions for the people in the town. The villagers. You went to the town once after your father killed himself. It was a week after you buried him by yourself at the little lake he used to love so much. You were tired, hungry and sad. A kid left alone in this world. You did not understand why your dad hated you, why he left you alone. And so you didn’t understand why he always forbade you to go to the town. But you understood it quite quickly that day. 

The way they looked at you. Their whispers and hissed words directed at you. They hated you. They despised you and for some bizarre reason, they feared you. It did not matter to them that you had the money for food. No one wanted to talk to you. No one even cared to help you. They called you a WITCH. There were even some that believed you were the one who killed both your mother and father. You remember coming back home that day and cry yourself to sleep that night. 

But you decided not to give up on life and follow the steps of your father. You took the bow that belonged to your mother and taught yourself how to use it. While cleaning their bedroom you found some books and scrolls and spent your free time reading. 

Before your mother died she read you a lot. She taught you how to read. She told you stories about the world beyond the village and the forest you lived in. She used to tell you about a beautiful power you had inside of you and how she would help you to master it one day. She gave you a necklace one day and told you to never take it off. She even showed you basics of hunting. Until one day she got sick. You remember your dad sitting next to her bed all day and night until she gave away her last breath. Your mother was a strong, beautiful and kind woman. She knew what she wanted in life. She knew what she wanted for you and wasn't afraid to put the most bizarre dreams and adventure plans in your head. But she wasn’t able to fulfil any of the promises she gave you. 

Before she died your father was a nice man, who worked at the stable in the village. He loved horses and always told you stories of them, promising to take you there one day, to meet his friends, as he called them. Another unfulfilled promise. 

You remember this kind man who made you this awful porridge every time you were sick. You remember the man that loved your mom with all his heart. You remember him, even when he changed. After your mother’s death, he changed. The way he looked at you was similar to the way the villagers looked at you that day. He ignored you, only giving you food. He didn’t speak. He went to work very early in the morning and came back at night. 

A night before he killed himself he came back from the town completely drunk and dirty. He looked at you in the same way as he did since your mom died and spoke to you, the first and the last time since the love of his life died. 

“I tried to love you. When you were born and your mother told me you had the same powers she did, I knew she would be able to teach you and hide it from the villagers… But someone found out about her and you. Have you got any idea how hard it is for me to go to this damn place and hear about the Witch I live with? God! How I wish it was you who died and not her. I see you reading those damn books this woman left behind and all I want is to slit your throat in the middle of the night. But I can’t, you know why? Because you look just like her!” You remember the tears in your eyes and your little heart, breaking into million pieces because the only person you had in this world hated you. “You are nothing and will be nothing. The villages hate you because you are a Witch. I go to sleep every night afraid you will kill me in your sleep. But I’m done! I’m done with you and with all those idiots in the village. I can finally go and see your mother! I curse you! You will never be loved and you will die alone! ” You didn’t understand the meaning of his words until the morning when you find him at the kitchen table with a knife on the floor and a slit throat. You remember not screaming, unable to move. You stood there for what seemed like hours and looked at the dry blood on the kitchen floor. 

It has been 10 years since that day. And nothing changed. You were still living alone, away from the villagers. You did, however, try to learn from your mother’s books. You were able to use some of the magic you learned to help the animals in the forest that needed your help. You were happy to be able to heal them. You were a Witch, but at least you tried to use it for a good purpose. You avoided the village, getting your own food from the forest and water from the lake a mile away from the house you lived in. 

By accident, you met a boy, no older than 8, five years ago. He was swimming at the lake with his four years old sister. He didn’t seem to be afraid or disgusted by you. You gave him a pie you baked for yourself, and since that day he was your mediator. You were selling different kinds of ointments and creams thanks to him. He would take it from you and sell it, saying to everyone it’s from the village next to yours. No one questioned him how he got it. But were happy to buy them. You gave him food and 10% of what you earned and he never turned you on. 

You were used to the monsters in the forest. There were some from time to time. Normally some Drowners that were coming out from the lake. You read about all of the possible monsters and always had some silver with you. Your arrows had a bit of it in them. 

You knew the flow of the air and the energy in the sky when the monster appeared. But today, it was different. There was something else in the forest. No… someone else. 

Quickly, you took your bow with you, with that little dagger you always carried around, put your hood on and left your house to examine what was wrong. 

So many times you tried to fight the feeling of not caring what would happen to the villagers. But you couldn't. You quickly realised that you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if something happened to anyone while you could have done something. So you played the role of the saviour without no-one realising it. 

Your steps were cautious afraid to scare whatever, or whoever was there. Your bow ready for action. Possibly needed spells already memorized in your head. You didn't care if you died, but it did not mean you wanted to die. 

You stopped, hearing grunts and squicking of what you assumed were drowners. Your hand squished the bow and you took another step, holding when you noticed a huge man, with incredible white hair and a sword that in normal conditions would get your eyes to shine with curiosity. He was standing there alone, fighting all those monsters. And to your surprise, he was doing quite alright. You frowned noticing the black orbits. Witcher. 

You never saw one, but you read about them enough to know that this man in front of you should be able to handle himself. 

"I wouldn't come closer, my lady!" You turned, pointing your arrow between the eyes of the man that just came standing near you. You frowned seeing his colourful clothing. 

"Who are you?" You asked quietly, not lowering your weapon. Just because he didn't seem like hurting you didn't mean he wouldn't. 

"Julian Alfred Pankratz, but you can call me Jaskier my lady. A bard. One and only who shares the adventures of Geralt of Rivia!" Saying it he showed to the man who was fighting right now. "You must have heard of…"

"Why are you not helping him?" You lowered the bow and turned to the fighting man. It must have been your imagination but it seemed like he became slower. 

"Geralt of Rivia does not need my help", your hand moved a bit when the Witcher hissed with pain. The monster did not seem to lower in numbers and his energy did not seem to grow. 

You waited, trying to ignore the whispers from Jaskier near your ear. The man - Geralt - seemed to lose energy faster than you expected. He must have been hurt somewhere vital. You took a deep breath and secured the hood on your head. You could not sit and watch a man die on your watch. Not when you would be able to help him. 

Not thinking of the consequences, you mumbled the words of the spell and invisible barrier appeared around the man, at the same time he fell on the floor. The drawers turned towards you, the moment you threw them away with your magic. Raising your bow, you killed three of them and while the others approached you raised your hands in front of you and whispered. 

"Henenaa fireaoth kerelanth!" The bright light came out from your hands and the monsters in front of you dilacerated into pieces. 

"Fuck!" Jaskier shouted in disbelief when you stood there, breathing a bit faster than you liked. You closed your eyes when this weird voice in your head came back. It always happens when you used a stronger type of spells. "You are a mage! Fuck that was amazing!" Relaxing you turned towards the Witcher who was lying unconscious on the grass. Ignoring the bard you kneeled in front of the white-haired and checked his pulse. Alive. Good. You looked around and sighed. It was dangerous to heal him here in case the drowners would come back. 

"Sir Jaskier", he shut up hearing your formality. "Your friend seems like a heavy man. I live nearby, would you be kind enough to help me to bring him to my house. I should be able to help him there." The bard nodded and helped you to raided Geralt to his feet. He growled but didn't say anything. Apparently, he wasn't fully unconscious. You glanced at the drowners bodies and promised yourself to come back here and ran it up, after taking care of the Witcher. 

**

You found out pretty quickly that the bard was a talkative man, that had no boundaries. He spoke of Geralt, of the adventures, the beautiful women he came to see and wish to see more. Despite it being tiring, you enjoyed hearing him talk. When you're so used to leaving alone, the voice of another human is always pleasing. 

"I was able to heal his most vital wounds. When he wakes up, I'd like him to take a bath and clean the blood out, before I put him back to bed." You mumbled making Jaskier shut for a while. “The bandages should last till he wakes up but the wound on his thigh worries me…” You weren’t accustomed to a half-naked man in your bed, but the clothes he was wearing were sticking enough to his body due to the mud and water. “He seems to heal pretty well by himself, so probably I shouldn’t worry.”

“He lived through worse”, Jaskier joked, sitting in front of the fire that you kindled to help the Witcher sweat whatever possible toxin could travel through his body. 

“Yeah, I can see that.” You mumbled looking at the enormous amount of scars plastered on his body. You could only imagine the number of monsters he had to fight in his entire life. It saddens you to see that, but also, you could not help but think of the chunk of adventures he lived and feel a bit jealous. “Stay here for a while, please.” The bard looked up at you when you started to head to the doors. “If he wakes up, please make him drink what’s in the cup, there.” He nodded and you smiled a bit, thanked that he was willing to help. They may have a weird relationship, but this annoyingly talkative man truly cared about the Witcher. 

Taking your bow you came back to the river and collected what could be useful to make any potions. Drawners’ bodies were full of important ingredients and if they were already killed, you weren’t the one to pass on the occasion to pick it up. You took the man’s swords that he lost during the fight and was about to walk back home when you heard a shuffling in the forest. Your bow ready to attack, but you lowered it, when a horse came out, moving his head around, almost as if looking of its owner. A small smile appeared on your lips and you slowly started to walk to the animal. 

“Hey, beautiful!” You whispered, stroking its magnificent mane. “Do you belong to the Witcher?” It moved its head, pushing you a bit. You chuckled at its reaction, almost as it understood you. Well. Even if it did not belong to the men you left at your house, you wouldn’t say no to some company. After all, animals were always better for humans, at least to you. 

*

To your surprise, the Witcher did not wake up before you came back. What’s worse Jaskier has fallen asleep and he was snoring. Not annoyingly, but still. You were able to make your own bed for Geralt and some extra sleeping for Jaskier and even start preparing some food for the three of you when you heard voices in the next room. 

“She said you need to drink that”, you watched from the door how the bard tried to make his friend drink whatever medicine you left for him. “Y/N!” He finally exclaimed, noticing you. He stood up and walked to you, gesticulating with his hands. “I told him to drink it, but he’s as stubborn as…”

 “Who are you?” Your eyes landed on the Witcher, who was gazing at you, almost as you were an assassin sent to kill him.

“I’m Y/N.” You started, slowly walking towards him. “I live him and you, dear Witcher stumbled across some awful Drawners.” You smiled softly at him and took the cup that he put away just seconds ago. “I tried to make it drinkable, so please take it.” He stared at the liquid inside of the cup and with a growl, he drank it all in one go. 

“What am I doing here?” His tone a bit less offensive now as he was during the previous question. His low voice bringing you shivers, that ran through your whole spine. 

“We saved your life, Geralt!” Jaskier chimed it, apparently unhappy to be left behind. “Ok, fine, she saved your life.” You chuckled quietly when Geralt raised his brow. “I did help carry your heavy ass in here…” He grunted, crossing his arms at his chest. 

“You did indeed.” You answered, making him smile at you. “You were fighting Drowners, and as impressive as it was, you were outnumbered. You should think of a better companion next time.” The Witcher smirked and poor Jaskier gasped offended. “I was able to stop the bleeding and take care of your major wounds, but the one on the thigh is still making me worry.” You repeated what you said to the Bard not so long ago. Your eyes travelled down seeing how the blood managed to soak through the bandages. 

“You used magic…” You froze, hoping that he would not remember it. You already asked Jaskier not to tell anyone. “Two spells at the same time.” He looked you in the eyes and frowned. “You’re the Witch the village is talking about.” He noticed how the little happy sparkles disappeared from your eyes. Your shoulders collapsed a bit and you started to nervously play with the little necklace around your neck. 

“Is that why you were so near my house?” you asked. Your voice low and flat. “You got a job on me? Kill the awful Witch from the woods?” The gravelly sound of your voice made Geralt frown. Yes, he did hear stories from the villagers about the awful Witch that lives near the swamp. But none of those stories seemed to be real when he has an opportunity to see you in person. 

“What if I do?”

“Geralt!” Jaskier hissed, but one look from his friend and he piped down. 

“Tell me, Y/N, what if I did get a job to kill you?” He looked at you waiting for your answer. You didn’t look frightened, nor like someone who was about to kill him. not after you spent so much afford on keeping him alive. 

“Then I guess I wouldn’t stop you, Witcher…” His eyes widened just a bit at your open surrender. You looked up and smiled sadly at the man. “But there is something that tells me you don’t plan on ending my life just yet.” With that, you took a fresh bandage and started to walk to the last of your room. “I will get the bath ready. Some warm water should help with the herby medication I put on your wounds.” And with no words, you left the two men behind. 

“That was awful, Geralt!” Jaskier hissed at his friend, looking at the now-closed doors. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“She’s a mage. A good one.”

“Well, yeah! She helped you with the Drowners.” the bard rolled his eyes, still feeling sorry for you. 

“No girl with powers escapes Aretuza.” Jaskier frowned, remembering Yennefer mentioning something about it once or twice. “She’s too ordinary looking, which means she wasn’t taught there…” 

“So...She’s really a Witch?” The Geralt hummed and shook his head. That necklace you had. It interfaced with his necklace. There was something different with that necklace. Something mysterious about you as well. Something that Geralt for sure wants to find out. 

[archariio]

“Five Years in Hell”

This is a first draft of a potential chapter one. Subject to change. I am looking for any and all feed back if anyone feels so inclined. I’ve never really put my writing out for people to read. Please be honest about your thoughts good, bad or both. And please forgive me for it being messy, it is a first draft after all. I have written up to about chapter 6, so if anyone would like to see more after this I’d love to get some feedback on it :) 

Chapter 1

            Arramiir spent her last three years of life wanting nothing more than to join the Wyvern Riders. And after three years of training off of a swordsman in her home town she felt she was ready to apply.

           “Here,” her teacher handed her a tightly sealed box. “You’ll need a few things.” She placed the heavy bread loaf sized box into her satchel of holding. “When they ask for your admission fee, you give them that box.”

           “Admission fee? How much is it?” She had no intention of putting her mentor out this way.

           He laughed in the deep hardy voice she had come to love hearing. It reminded her of her dad back home. “It’s nothing compared to the amazing woman you are going to become.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled soft and sad. “The road you’re about to go down is paved with difficult choices and even more difficult obstacles.” While he spoke the young woman clad in cheap chain shirt armor looked around the town she had come to love so much. As small as Dorandale was, it had become her home. “when you return…” He trailed off a moment. “If you return here, you won’t be the same person who left. Not by a long shot.” His voice grew a bit louder as he failed to hide the pride he had for his student. “But don’t let that stop you from becoming the greatest adventurer, warrior and protector you can become. I assure you, whoever and whatever you are five years from now, pass or fail, you will have a home here when you return.” Water welled up in his eyes before a few stray tears escaped. He pulled her into a tight hug. “I love you Arra.” He squeezed her tighter. “Please come back safe.”

           She embraced him back just as fervently. This was a big step, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it. “I love you to Jaryan.”

           After a another half an hour of filling her enchanted satchel that could hold roughly a storerooms worth of things, also a gift and beloved treasure of Jaryan’s family, with enough food to last weeks, her sword, a dagger, some basic survival and climbing gear, a healing draught for emergencies, she didn’t bother asking how much he had spent on the potion, she was sure he’d shrug it off. But she knew they cost almost twenty gold! That was two months of pay for most people. After a few more hugs, she was off.

           The carriage ride to the academy was going to take a couple days, it’s fairly remote. And on the way their she couldn’t believe all the things her mentor had prepared. All of it together must have cost over a hundred gold pieces. He must have been saving to send her to the academy for two years and then some to have that kind of money. Suddenly the extra orders at the forge and all his late nights began to make sense. She felt determined to be worthy of all that work.

           The young sword wielder clutched the bag and her sword, now in its scabbard on her side, tight to herself. “I won’t let all the time and money my teacher spent be a waste.” She squared her shoulders, for herself as the carriage was empty. “I’m going to be a Rider.”

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

           When she finally arrived almost two days later, the place was rather underwhelming. It looked to be a notably large manor house inside a fairly wide clearing in the woods. Two beautiful fountains out front, a couple flower beds and a paved walkway. But as nice as it was Arra felt a bit disenchanted. The legends about this place are monumental in scope. She hopped out of the carriage and grabbed her bag.

           “What’s the matter?” A girl who looked to be a couple years younger than Arra, maybe nineteen or so, made her way over to the new arrival. She wore finely made studded leather armor and had a number or beautiful and ornate daggers adorning her person. “You look confused.”

           Arra ripped her eyes away from the lavish weapons and armor, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about her old hard-leather shirt. “I don’t know, I guess I just thought it would be bigger.” She gestured to the small mansion in front of her. She looked back to the girl. “I’m Arramiir by the way, but you can call me Arra if you like.”

           The girl brushed a long strand of jet-black hair behind her ear which was hidden by her cowl and gave Arra the most welcoming smile she’d ever seen. “My names Kyla. It’s nice to meet you.”

           Kyla reached a hand out, and without thinking Arra shook it and smiled. Something in the back of her mind was trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t hear it well enough for it to matter. Before Arra could get her wits about her, Kyla began again. “I’m a third year. I’m here to vet people for enrollment. Me and my party that is.” The unerringly attractive girl looked around a moment, even going as far as to walk over to the carriage and peek inside. “By the way, where is the rest of your party?”

           “Party?” A rush of anxiety slammed into Arras chest. “Um… I…” She couldn’t form words, especially not when she looked into Kyla’s eyes. The same brown as rich chocolate with little green flecks. Stop looking at her like that! Arra chided herself.

           Luckily Kyla interrupted before she had to answer further. “Oh, okay.” She smiled a wicked grin. “So you plan on being a solo adventurer.” The roguish girl’s gaze changed a bit, now examining Arra much closer. Studying her up and down. Her eyes seemed to linger on the chain shirt and the odd handled sword on Arra’s hip. “Very few solo adventures ever make it in. I’m excited to see what you’re made of.” Kyla winked as she walked off to greet other new arrivals. Leaving Arra with her cheeks flushed and her head spinning a bit.

           Arramiir found a shady spot away from all the commotion under a cherry blossom tree. She had a passing thought that cherry blossoms didn’t grow here. And also they shouldn’t be in full bloom. She scratched at the tree. “It’s real.” She murmured to herself in amazement.

            The sun was low in the sky, night would be falling in a couple of hours but Arramiir was far to tired to consider rest. Propping her sword against the tree she sat down and tried to take in some information about her hopefully future classmates. Her teachers words rang in her ears like a calming melody.        No task looks surmountable in the beginning. But information is the most powerful tool to cut it down to size.

           With that in mind, Arra steeled herself and breathed through the anxiety that threatened to turn into a full blown panic attack. She needed to cut this down to size. So she looked out over the crowd of roughly fifty other hopeful applicants.

           Sadly, this proved to be unhelpful. Because all she was learning, was that she was astronomically outmatched.

           Someone eventually came over to ask for her admission fee, and she pulled the box out of her bag and handed it over. The woman collecting the entry fees opened the box, her eyes glowed a moment and began to move incredibly quick as she dug around in the box. “Excellent.” She smiled as she shut the container. “All five thousand gold accounted for. Welcome to the initiate program.” By the time she finished her welcome she had already taken a coin pouch from another student and began the process over again.

           Five thousand gold pieces… Arra slumped back against the tree. Where did my master get that? What did he do to… no. He obviously put a lot more on the line for me then I thought. If I get caught up in that now, his sacrifice won’t be worth it. And having regained her composure Arra pulled out a small black book and made a note to pay the entry fee back as soon as possible. It was listed next to over two dozen other debts she would pay back in the future. One day.

           After a few more hours the remainder of the hopefuls arrived. Some by carriage, two by flying mounts that Arra didn’t recognize and the majority by teleportation circle. The more people who arrived the more self-conscious Arra became about her weapon and gear. 

           Luckily the growing dread got a thousand times worse when the head of the guild arrived. He didn’t arrive to the sound of trumpets or the winds gailing around him. Honestly the young woman wouldn’t have noticed had she not been watching the manor house like a hawk since they arrived. He was a remarkably unremarkable man to the casual observer. Human, mildly handsome features, brown hair and eyes, the picture of average. As he strode out into the middle of the gathering crowd, everyone keeping a respectful distance while he walked, it became clear he wasn’t carrying any obvious weapons or gear. Just a black shirt with polished buttons and the guild insignia. And a black ring on his right hand.

           When he spoke his voice was loud enough to be heard by every student present. Arra suspected it to be a spell. “Welcome everyone!” He sounded so chipper. “As those of you who have been spying on the guild already know,” When he said this a number of faces in the crowd, mostly clad in leather armor hung their heads. “my name is Archariio.” He gave a polite bow. “And I will be your headmaster during your time here.”

           Everyone stood in silence now. The moment they had been training for arrived. Arra felt like a child standing among soldiers and assassins and wizards in this clearing in the middle of nowhere. What was I thinking?

           “So allow me to explain how this is going to go.” The headmaster continued. “There are roughly a thousand of you here today. That many? This is a problem we face every year. Because our facility only accepts thirty potential future guild members per year.” The crowd erupted in shouts and protests.

           “What you mean thirty!” followed by more, “I paid my fee! I’m supposed to be here!” Was the most common complaint. Arra simply kept her back to her tree and tried to process this new information. She would have to be in the top three percent to be admitted. The only thing keeping her from taking this opportunity to leave was the question of how to explain to her master, friends and family why she was back so early.

           Before she was able to give running away to live out her days in the forest to much thought, the headmaster shushed the crowd with a wave, a winning smile and then continued. “So we have devised a very simple method of seeing who among you are the best candidates as quickly as possible. A little mock exam pre-test if you will.” He seemed far to pleased with himself and that made Arra nervous.

           “The rules are simple. I’m going to teleport you all into random places in the forest within a few miles of here at designated starting spots. You will be stuck in place until everyone is in position. As soon as you are freely able to walk off of the starting circle, the game has begun. You have one objective. Get inside the manor before thirty other students do.” He gestured to the building behind him. “Most of you have already arrived with a proper three person party. I will remind you that if a member of your party doesn’t make it in, and place in the first thirty, they will not be admitted with you.” This seemed to unsettle almost everyone present.

           “So it’s a race?” A girl about Arra’s age spoke up. Judging by the robes and wand belt she was a caster. And one look at her slim red tail that matched her crimson skin confirmed she was a teifling. Her horns seemed awfully small though.

           “Exactly!” The headmaster clapped his hands together. Seeming pleased that everyone understood. He turned to leave so the magic teachers and students could begin the teleporting process. But he stopped before entering the door of the manor to turn around and address them once more. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to mention something. My third year students will be hunting you. I asked them to not kill any of you if they can avoid it. But things happen.” He shrugged and turned back around. “I mean, you all know what you signed up for.”

           Arra slung her bag over her shoulder and strapped her sword to the small of her back.

           No. I most certainly didn’t know. She took a breath to bring her senses back to the here and now. But I’ll be getting in there. I didn’t train for three years to be stopped before I’ve even begun.

           A teacher who the young woman hadn’t noticed until now touched her forehead and the smell of magic filled Arra’s nose. The world flashed. Suddenly the silence of the forest and the weight of being alone were the only things keeping Arra company.

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

           The young sword fighter took a few deep breaths. The sun was all but down. She guessed they did this on purpose. Third years? We’re being hunted by other students? Why? What was he talking about the possibility of them killing us for? Who is going to tell my master if I die here in the middle of the forest?

Stop! She shouted in her mind. Now wasn’t the time for those questions. She was taught better than this. She reached a hand forward off of the stone cirlcle she was standing on. It looked like a teleportation circle, same as she had seen a thousand times. But something wasn’t right about it. Her hand hit a wall made of nothing. A shield meant to keep them trapped.

           Arra knelt down to examine the rune work. She was no mage, not by a long shot, but she knew draconic, and some of the symbols were pretty close. She ran her finger over the carved stone. The symbol for moon. Or sun? She wasn’t sure. “This is useless.” She mumbled to herself looking through her bag for some other means of escape. The explanation was a bit of a blur. All she really remembered was get to the building before thirty others do. The rest of it she just heard the blood rushing in her ears. “First test is probably escaping this damn thing.” There! She found what she was looking for. She pulled a climbing spike and hammer out of the climbing gear in her kit.

           The spike lined up on the rune just right, she brought the hammer down. There was a crack almost like lightning when the stone cracked. Arcane energy exploded from the plate as the enchantment broke apart. The pulse of energy sent the unsuspecting girl hurtling through the air. In the half a second before she smacked into a tree Arra did what she could to brace for the impact.

           Crack!

           Her head smacked into the wood. Light danced in her eyes, and a loud ringing dug into her mind, preventing her from thinking clearly. The world slowly began to go dark. No… She could physically feel the consciousness leaving her body. The weight of her limbs increasing with each passing moment.

           She was able to process one last thought before the last of the world faded away.

           At least unconscious I’m not enough of a threat to warrant killing.

           Mildly comforted by this thought, she had no choice but to let go, finally allowing her eyes to shut…

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.14

Hunk drove a very hyper Pidge home. Letting her mix flavours had been a bad idea, Pidge talking the whole drive home so fast that Lance was surprised she was managing to drink her slushies in between her words. Promising his best buddy he’d fill him in the following morning, Lance felt a little awkward as he let him and Keith into his empty house. His beloved bronco wasn’t back yet, Shiro extremely lucky Lance didn’t have his phone number to hound him about taking care of his baby girl. Hovering at the base of the stairs, both men stood their awkwardly. Lance feeling weird as he knew he needed to say something, but wasn’t sure what that something was. Playing it safe, he opted for an apology. Keith’s life had been thrown in turmoil, just like Lance’s, and the man clearly missed his brother, something Lance couldn’t make better for him. Maybe if they’d met when in college, he and Keith could have been friends. Keith’s anger clearly stemmed from trauma, his repeated fixation on thinking he’d been turned very clearly said that. Lance had the feeling is had something to do with whatever happened to Shiro’s partner, but he wasn’t in the position to pry.

“Hey. I’m sorry we dragged you out. I know I was kind of a pushy, and you can probably put that down to my people pleasing personality, but I hope some part of tonight was enjoyable. It’s no easy, or fun, being on the outside, but Hunk and Pidge are good people. I’m not just using them to blend in, it was never like that. They’re both special to me. I know we’re like strangers and it’s awkward as hell living together, but I think after tonight I like you a little more than I did. I don’t think you’re a fundamentally bad person, and I’m not going to push you to talk to me. I guess what I want to say is, that I swear on Blue I’m not in the habit of hurting people. That doesn’t mean much coming from a vampire, because honestly, most of us are huuuuuuge douche canoes. But as long as you’re under my roof, I’m going to treat you like an actual human being, and not as “Keith the hunter”. I don’t know how many times I can apologise for being what I am, but I’m too much of a coward to off myself. I thinking part of my emotional growth was stunted from being turned... and, well, yeah. I’ll let you head to bed or whatever. If you can’t sleep, help yourself to whatever. I would prefer you stay out of my office for the sake of my clients, but I know you can get in there anyway... yeah... anyway, I’m headed up to bed... I’ll see you in the morning”

Lance’s undead heart leapt when Keith opened his mouth, only to fall when Keith closed his mouth and looked away. He’d probably said too much again. He was trying so damn hard, and he wasn’t exactly sure why it even mattered. Until Shiro came back, both he and Keith were left in limbo... Lance still kind of hoped that Shiro leaving Keith with him meant the older hunter wasn’t about to come for his head in the middle of the night, and that some time apart would make it easy for Shiro to see his brother was very much the human idiot he’d always been.

“How old are you?”

Lance nearly dropped the remnants of his slushy in surprise. Strawberry hadn’t been the smartest choice. Pidge had teased him about looking like a vampire for having red around his lips, and all over his teeth. Honesty was best when dealing with people in trauma

“I’m 44. In human years”

“Okay”

That was it. The limit of Keith’s vocabulary for the night. The hunter trudging towards his room, leaving Lance to walk up the stairs to his own. Stripping down and changing for bed, Blue let out a rumbled purr as she came running into his room and leapt up onto his bed to wait for him. He really must look like the lamest vampire Keith had ever met. Just a lonely vampire and his cat, living in the middle of nowhere. It was a good thing Lance didn’t mind being lame.

*

Lance’s dreams were horrible. He’d woken half a dozen times unable to escape the feelings flowing through his body. His teeth hurt, cutting into his lip as he huddled against his bedhead. He felt flushed with fever, arm aching as if he’d broken it. The skin had healed over the wound, but it itched so badly Lance wanted to scratch until it bled. Shivering and sick, he’d fallen back to sleep around dawn, waking with a throat feeling as though clogged with his death soil. Blue hadn’t left him, though that might not have been her choice given the door to his bedroom was closed, instead of slightly open so Blue could come and go as she pleased.

Showering only made Lance feel worse, he couldn’t get the temperature to cooperate and nearly tore the tap handle off it’s fitting trying. He ended up feeling like soggy cardboard, all wet and useless, as he towelled off and peered in the least cracked slither of mirror left. Today was definitely a day for make up. No amount of blood was going to bring back colour into his dulled skin. Being the youngest, he’d spent many a time as his older sister Rachel’s model. Mami had beaten her arse red on more than one occasion when Rachel had tried using nail polish as eyeshadow... his sister not the most skilled person to be giving anyone a make over, but his other sister Veronica had grown out of all of that kind of thing by the time Rachel had gotten old enough to be right into all frilly girly things, leaving Lance to be her victim repeatedly. After he’d turned, all of that had stopped. Initially his Papi would gently send everyone away from him, until his Mami took him by the ear and reminded him that though different, Lance was still their baby boy. When he’d been older his Papi apologised, but he never knew how good a vampire‘s memory was, that those days still stayed with Lance no matter how many years had passed. Today was not the day to be looking like a movie extra in a budget film, his whole face felt choked as he smeared his foundation on, before giving his lips a quick coat of waterproof lipstick, though humans had never really got the recipe for that right. Continuing his morning routine, he dressed as nicely as he could shirt wise, then opted for sweats on the bottom. It wasn’t like his conference call was going to be worried about his lack of proper attire when his shirt looked professional enough.

Coming downstairs, Lance darted through to his office, teeth aching all over again as he opened a bag of blood, messily drinking down the contents like he hadn’t been fed for days. Coran had said to expect a low, but this was nearing ridiculous. He wasn’t in any fit condition to entertain Keith with half hearted fighting, let alone provide legal representation to the clients trusting him in. Spilling blood across his laptop came as the final straw, Lance sinking to the floor where he balled himself under his desk, to scared to call Coran, and too scared to sit up and human. Instead he remained hidden there until his laptop started to ring, letting him know he’d spent a good three hours wallowing rather pathetically.

Before the family court, the matter took all of 15 minutes. Lance speaking smoothly, as he bounced his left leg, hands digging into his sweats hard enough that his nails had ripped through. Things would have been different if he’d known he could jump in his car and straight up to Platt, instead of this horrible feeling like he was a prisoner in his own home. The little voice in his head mocked him for not being able to pick up his phone and call Coran, paranoid over how Keith would act if Coran came running because he couldn’t keep his shit together. He didn’t want to die. Not while his Mami still lived. He didn’t want to break her heart, or prove the rest of his siblings right. He didn’t want Coran to be hurt, not that he thought Keith had the power to take Coran down... it was just... sometimes words left a wound that even the deepest blade was left dull in comparison. Keith was lashing out, hitting that target without aiming, like being caught in a spray of bullets. Coran didn’t deserve that with all the good for Lance and those like him. For Keith’s sake, Lance needed to keep all this shit secret. The hunter had signed up for his head, not his sob story.

Leaving the office, Lance headed into the kitchen. Keith at the kitchen bench trying to figure out the coffee machine. Dropping the pod in his hands, the hunter picked it back up without saying anything, but he didn’t need to. Lance knew how weak and pathetic he was, he could see it reflected in Keith’s brilliant eyes. Wordlessly he went to the cupboard, pulling out a can of wet food for Blue, Keith taking half a step away from him as he did. It stung. The not so covert action rubbed him the wrong way, not that he’d say so out loud. Pulling the ring tab back, Lance stubbed his toe on the counter as he reached for Blue’s dish. The act bringing tears to his eyes as he finally broke. Sinking down to the floor, he was showing Keith the most shameful side of him that he humanly could.

“Do you take sugar in your coffee?”

The question hung in the air, Lance’s face hidden behind his hands as he wept.

“Lance, do you take sugar in your coffee?”

Keith had said his name. Without any malice or prompting... he didn’t understand why

“I take three usually”

Why was Keith talking to him?

“Shiro says it too many, but I like three. You seem more like a one person”

“A one person”. Keith, who didn’t even think of him as human, was there in his kitchen calling him a person

“Am I really so useless that you’re wasting time on me?”

Lance regretted the harsh tone in his words. Wiping at his teary eyes, he looked up at the hunter to find him looking down on him

“Well you’re practically an animal, but... I think maybe I don’t hate you as much as I should”

Laughter bubbled up, Lance not blaming Keith for stepping back as his tears turned to laughter

“You can go fuck yourself if you’re going to be like that”

Lance’s laughter sobered, the vampire sniffling loudly. Okay. Keith was acting “Keithy” again, he could understand that

“One. Two if Pidge and Hunk are here”

Keith took a moment before a silent “oh” of realisation formed on his lips, turning back to the coffee machine as he tried to fit the pod in properly

“I... I have nightmares too”

Lance cringed. Asleep he hadn’t been able to consciously hold back. Keith had probably heard him screaming the house down, now taking pity on his undead arse

“I heard you calling for someone... friends or something. You we’re really fucking loud”

“I’m sorry”

“Who were they?”

“People who don’t matter”

They didn’t matter but that didn’t mean they weren’t always on his mind

“Nyma and Rolo?”

Lance shuddered at their names. They’d parted so long ago that it didn’t feel fair he should be forced to remember them

“People you don’t want to meet”

“I gathered from your screams. Are they the ones who turned you? Or were they friends?”

“I don’t want to talk about it”

“You say vampires never forget, does that mean you remember what happened with them?”

Lance shook his head quickly

“I don’t want to talk about it”

“So they sired you?”

Lance put his hands over his ears

“Shut up”

“If they did...”

“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!”

Screaming in anger, Lance hated Keith in that moment for pushing. Nyma and Rolo had been his friends. The keyword being “had”. He was allowed to have things he didn’t want to talk about. Those two were in his past, not is future. Letting his head dropped back, it smacked against the cupboard without enough force to be satisfying. He wanted to hurt. He wanted to break something. He wanted to tear himself out of his own skin. Nudged with Keith’s foot, he shot a look of rage up at Keith, the hunter holding out a cup of coffee

“Drink this. Shiro said he won’t be back for a while, but he was sending someone out to watch over you until he could be”

“I don’t need watching over”

Taking the coffee cup, the handle snapped before Keith had let go completely. Pulling the mug back, the hunter cut his hand on the protruding porcelain at the bottom. Hit by the smell of Keith’s blood, Lance felt all his senses come alive with the need to feed. Both their eyes widened as they met, both in fear over the situation. Keith feared Lance was about to maul him, as Lance feared how good Keith’s blood smelt.

Lance did the only thing he could do. He ran. Keith left staring as he bolted from the kitchen, his hand snapping through the bottom of the staircase railing as the grabbed it to use his momentum to get up his stairs just that little bit faster, tripping in his rush, but pushing himself on faster in the same heartbeat. Reaching his room, he slammed the door behind him, dragging his dresser over to barricade himself in. He hadn’t needed his phone in the office, so left it up on its charge station. Snatching up the device, he copped a glance of his reflection, disgusted at the sight of himself. His hands shook as he unlocked the device, calling the only number he could, Coran. With first ring, he found he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t run to Coran for help. He couldn’t tell him there was something still wrong with him. His phone thrown in disgust where the force shattered the device on impact, and dented the floorboard it’d hit. He didn’t know what to do, but he did know he was a mistake.

[fandom-necromancer]

1024. Part 2

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

[Part 1]   [Part 3]   [Part 4]   [part5]   [part6]

Work went on as usual. He had too much to do to worry about anything but his cases and at home he was far too exhausted. Only his commute to work and back left him with time to think. Seeing the tower lurking in the distance while waiting for the light to turn green didn’t help either. This android had struck something inside him, the one part that had caused him to become a police officer in the first place: His sense of justice. And everything about that unit confined to x square metres of a public lobby screamed at him to do something about it. He had tried to convince himself time and time again that this wasn’t his business and that he should forget about some damn android that still lived better than some humans out there and that every machine that wasn’t out here was one less to worry about.

Still he stood at that junction and thought about the Connor-lookalike. I don’t know anyone. I was told I was dangerous. I like to imagine what they do once they left. I would love to meet new people and see the world, but I can’t. ‘It’s not your phcking problem Reed!’, he cursed at himself in the empty car and accelerated a bit to hard once the light was green. ‘It’s not your damn problem. Since when do you care about a phcking machine? Cyberlife built these plastic shits, so they should know best how to handle them, right? Shut up and drive home!’

Gavin sighed while sorting his case files. All he had to do now was waiting for a warrant, so his work hours seemed to stretch endlessly. But for now, his shift was over, and he spent the last half an hour to organise his desk and look busy. ‘I have to get some spares from Cyberlife, Hank. There is something wrong with my upper arm. Nothing major, but I want to make sure nothing happens when we are out there.’ Connor’s voice always felt like grinding on his nerves was its initial purpose and Gavin grumbled something under his breath. ‘Okay… Are you sure it’s nothing major?’ How could someone be that worried over a damn tin-can, Gavin wondered. Sure, Hank had always been a huge sap, but really? To him it felt like crying over a broken car. You just repaired it and that was the end to it. ‘Yeah, I’m certain. I just wanted to tell you, because I will be late to dinner today. But that’s fine, start without me.’ ‘Can’t you contact Markus?’ ‘Unfortunately not. RK800. Cyberlife has the monopoly on these spares. But it’s fine, I’ll survive. Just feels weird going back there after what happened during the revolution…’ Hank laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Should I come with you?’ ‘No, no need to! I’ll manage.’

‘I could get them.’ Gavin had spoken before thinking about it and now stood next to their desk being stared at as if he had just declared to marry Connor. ‘You… what?’, they both spoke simultaneously. Phck. Well, there was no going back now, was there? ‘Hey, I just live near the damn thing, okay? That’s all.’ ‘Gavin, you sure you didn’t hit your head today?’, Hank asked. ‘I mean, it’s unlikely with your height, but you just offered to help Connor.’ ‘Hey, phck off, okay? Thought you wanted to have your damn tea-party at home. But fine, forget I said anything!’

>Maybe that’s his way of apologizing for how he behaved during the revolution Hank. The Lieutenant read the message on his screen, whilst Connor was already on his way to follow Gavin. ‘Reed!’, he called and the Detective turned with a deep scowl on his face. ‘I would greatly appreciate it if you could get them for me. We planned this dinner for a long time and-‘ ‘Hey, spare me the details, what do you need?’, Gavin interrupted, hoping no one would see them. ‘Oh, I… I just reserved them, it’s for Anderson and this is the number.’ The android fetched a note from their desk and scribbled a twenty-digit number onto it. ‘Thank you a lot for this!’ ‘Yeah, whatever. Don’t make such a fuzz.’

Gavin regretted it already, driving over the bridge towards the tower. Connor wouldn’t leave him alone now, thinking he suddenly had a change of mind about the android. Like hell he would ever stop hating the phcking tin-can. No, this was only one trip to stop his raging thoughts every time he drove home. Meet the android, ask more questions about why he was imprisoned and then get on with his life. Easy as that.

He went up to the reception handing over the paper with the number and telling the receptionist why he was there. Of course, he was told to sit down again, because the package had to be fetched from the warehouse first. Gavin instead walked past the reception again and searched for the RK900. Although he was actively on the lookout for him, he was surprised again. ‘Detective Reed! I didn’t think to see you again.’ As Gavin turned to look at the android, he found him positively delighted. ‘Err… Yeah, just here to pick up some spares for the precinct, you know?’ ‘Of course. The reception is right there if you-‘ ‘Yeah, already was there. I have to wait for the package to arrive.’ ‘Oh.’ The little LED at his temple flickered yellow. ‘You came to… speak with me then?’ ‘I guess so.’ ‘That is… I don’t know what to say. What do you want to speak about, Detective Reed?’ Gavin stepped from one foot to the other, before speaking up again. ‘It’s Gavin, okay? You don’t need the full title.’ ‘Thank you. I was never on first name basis with anyone before.’ ‘Did you know anyone’s name before?’, Gavin asked deadpan. ‘… No.’ ‘Phck, that’s phcked up.’ ‘I… I don’t understand, I’m afraid…’

Gavin sighed frustrated with his own feelings. ‘Fine, tin-can, why do they think you are dangerous?’ ‘I’m a killer.’ Gavin laughed loudly. This naïve idiot? A killer? ‘Oh, that’s a good one, plastic! Come on, for real, why do they keep you here?’ The RK900’s eyes darted around in confusion. ‘I… just told you.’ ‘Bullshit. You aren’t a killer. I met enough of them in my life to tell you that. Did you feel exceptionally murderous towards anyone who ever entered this tower?’ ‘No! Of course not! I don’t wish anyone harm!’ ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought. You aint a killer, toaster.’ ‘But that was my intended purpose. Before I was deviated. I am still able to use this programming.’ ‘Yeah, well, I can harm others too, doesn’t mean they keep me locked away somewhere.’ ‘It is better like this!’, the android emphasized and this was the first thing told with anger. Or was this just frustration? ‘It is better like this and they know best what to do. I am content with this. I have to. Please, don’t try and convince me otherwise, alright?’

Gavin shook his head. Couldn’t that android see he lived in denial? But he kept quiet. ‘Reed? Detective Reed to the reception please.’ That was fast. ‘Err… have to go again. It err… was nice talking, I guess.’ ‘Yes!’ The android was quick to take a step towards him, before seemingly realising what he was about to do and stopping himself. ‘I’m sorry for being that harsh.’ Harsh? God, that android really had never met a human before, had he? ‘Don’t worry about it, tin-can.’ ‘Erm… Detec- Gavin? Will I… Will I see you again?’ The toaster avoided his eyes saying that. Gavin felt extremely bad about leaving already. ‘Yeah. Sure.’

-

Life went on. The warrants had been granted, the bad guys caught, cases closed, and new ones dropped on his desk. Connor surprisingly didn’t bother him more than usually after he had dropped the package with the spares on his desk. He still thought about that RK900 at the tower when he drove past the bridge and well, it had just become another part of his routine by now. There hadn’t been another opportunity to drive to the tower, until Tina came up to him one time after work. ‘Hey, you live near to Cyberlife, right? Could you do me a favour? Please? Pretty Please?’ ‘What is it, T?’ ‘You know that reception android?’ ‘Yeah, barely.’ ‘Well, I know her a little better and… Let’s just say I would like to know her even better than that…’ ‘You got a crush on her? Why does everyone I know fall for a damn toaster?’ Tina smacked her hand on his wrist. ‘Hey! She is beautiful! And clever and funny and… and she makes the best muffins, the best! You know I can’t resist that!’ ‘Yeah, fine, what can I get your android girlfriend? A third arm?’ ‘Oh shut up, will you! She’s not my girlfriend yet… She just complained about her joints becoming worn by now and that she has to buy some new lubricant soon…’ ‘T, that’s something you can buy anywhere, it doesn’t have to be Cyberlife-branded’, Gavin sighed. ‘Hey, idiot, I want to land it with her, okay? Only the best for her! I’ll pay, too, I just don’t know the first thing about it and…’ ‘And what?’ ‘There are rumours going around that you want to polish your image towards androids a bit.’ She elbowed him in the side. ‘Didn’t know the great Gavin Reed would stop being and asshole and try playing nice.’ ‘I’m not-‘ Gavin froze. Shit, that wasn’t really the rumour, was it? ‘I’m not playing nice.’ ‘Whatever you say…’, she chuckled. ‘Now will you do this for me?’ ‘Of course’, he sighed. ‘You’ll have it tomorrow morning.’ At least he could use this to keep his promise to the android.

-

‘Gavin! You came!’ The smile on the android’s face was sickening. And strangely suiting him. ‘I promised, didn’t I?’, Gavin half-snapped. ‘More spares for the precinct?’ ‘Just lubricant this time. Our receptionist complained about stiff joints.’ ‘That’s very nice of you.’ Oh, phck. He had worked hard so no one would find one thing on him to call “nice”. So, he shrugged it off. ‘Yeah, I guess.’ ‘Well, what did you want to speak about?’, the android asked then and Gavin realised he didn’t really have anything he wanted to know from the RK900. But why was he here then? Not to let the silence stretch too long, he threw the same question back: ‘What do you want to know?’ ‘What do I want? Oh. Err… What is being a Detective like? What is your favourite place in Detroit? Are there a lot of androids in your precinct? How do stars look like? Is the ocean really that big? How-‘ ‘Okay, stop, please. That’s… a lot of questions’, Gavin chuckled. ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘No, don’t apologise. Just. One after the other, shall we?’

-

Gavin smiled mindlessly, putting the can of lubricant on his kitchen counter to take it with him tomorrow. The android had hung on his lips the entire time, near childlike in his simple questions. But as he had told him more about police work, he had proved to be very intelligent and it was evident what he lacked was experience, not intellect. Gavin would never admit it, but he regretted not to have more time.

The rumour Tina had told him about had spread through the precinct and more and more androids came to him asking for small favours. Gavin didn’t like that new development, but it gave him more opportunities to meet the RK900 and that was what really mattered in the end, didn’t it?

So far he had smuggled in a deck of cards to play and show the android tricks, they had talked about anything the android wanted to know more about and Gavin in turn had begun talking to him about what bothered him. Someone at work annoying him to no end, his cat being sick and getting better, Tina having less time for their bar nights because of her new girlfriend. Without realising they had become friends and Gavin still denied those thoughts to get to the surface. He was just getting parts for the precinct and while waiting he had nothing else to do than kill the time with conversation.

‘Gavin! More spares to get?’ ‘Dunno, does Thirium count as a spare?’ ‘Probably… But can’t they just get that delivered?’ ‘I guess. But that costs extra and takes longer. Easier for me to come and get it.’ ‘I see. Well, what do we do while waiting?’ ‘I got you something. Trust me, you’ll love it!’ Gavin was just as excited to show the tin-can as he was to see it, but he would kill anyone who would say that to his face. ‘Come, let’s sit down.’ They went to the small wall encasing the plant area and sat down. Gavin took out his phone and opened his gallery. ‘Here. This is my cat.’ He handed his phone over to the android who held it in his hands as if it was made of gold. ‘Your cat?’ ‘Yeah, I have one. Love these little shits.’ ‘Are they as soft as they look?’ ‘If they let you pet them? Yes.’ ‘Wow.’

Gavin leaned in to flip to the next images and the android took them all in as if they were some impossible wonders. The human changed to the next folder showing him pictures of him and Tina in some bar, the park across the street, his car, pictures from way back when he had been younger and on vacation with his brother. The android was fascinated by all of them and surprised Gavin by hugging him when he was called to the reception. Immediately he stepped back and apologised: ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. But I’m just so happy. I never thought to see this, and you made it possible! Thank you.’ ‘Hey, don’t worry. I gotta go! See you soon!’

It wasn’t that soon, unfortunately. Gavin often thought about visiting the android just for him, not pretending to just go because of spares or something. But work kept him busy. The last months a lot of protests had shook the city: Androids protesting about Cyberlife’s conditions. New Jericho had unveiled just how the company treated their customers. The homes they sold them severely overprized were dilapidated, infested with mould and at the edge of decay. Repairs for rare models cost far more than those for more common ones, leaving several androids walking around damaged because they couldn’t afford it. It was injustice and a violation of their rights. Had they been human, someone would have acted far sooner. The police were out to stop these protests from becoming violent and mostly they didn’t. But as always, there were groups who had no qualms using force. Gavin jumped from one job helping out to the next and his own cases were still waiting for him. It had been a month of him not driving up to Cyberlife tower and he hoped the android would be patient with him. He would make it up to him, he swore to himself. He didn’t know how yet, but he would.

Exhausted from a day of standing next to his colleagues watching over peaceful protests and added overtime to do his own job, he let himself fall on his bed. He would just lie here for a while, before getting up to take a shower. Just lie here a bit and maybe… taking… a quick nap…

But of course, his phone stepped in between him and his much-needed rest. He picked up the buzzing brick of disdain and grumbled into it: ‘Reed here.’ ‘Gavin?’ That had him immediately sitting in his bed. ‘Tin-can?’ ‘Yes.’ There was some noise in the background Gavin couldn’t really place. ‘How did you get this number?’ ‘As you showed me the pictures. Sorry. I should have asked. But…’ ‘What is it? Why is it so loud over there?’ ‘That’s why I’m calling you. There are… people out there. They stormed in and… And I don’t know what they want, I hid. I hid in some… broom closet I believe. I don’t know what is going on and I’m scared. What if-‘ ‘They won’t hurt you, I’m on my way! I’ll just call the DPD for backup and then I’ll be there, okay? Stay where you are.’ ‘Thank you. But what if I do something? All this talk about me being dangerous…’ ‘Hey. You are not dangerous. Let me tell you that. Just stay there and don’t make a sound, okay? I’ll be there. I’m already out of the door now. Fifteen minutes!’ ‘Thank you Gavin. I don’t think I was ever scared like this.’ ‘And you won’t be again, trust me. I’m on my way!’

[>next part]

[fireproofkings]

The making of a sweater series

Part 1 || Part 2

Two things before we start: First, this is a long one and it has a few photos so buckle up if you’re reading. And second, I apologize in advance for the state of my nails in any of the pics, I know they are incredibly awful, but I promise I’ll do them tomorrow.

If you know me, you know I am the worst at keeping up with things, and if not, the fact that I have 7k drafts can give you a pretty good idea.

Last Saturday (July 11th) I went out and bought everything just as I expected, but while I was out shopping, Louis decided to attack us.

That’s one of those things you will always remember what you were doing the moment the news hit. I was buying all the supplies to make Harry’s sweater when Louis announced he was finally free.

My phone was blowing up, and when I went to check why, all of my group chats were screaming, and the lovely Ed (@literlarryreal) was sending me long voice notes telling me all the thoughts she has and let me tell you, it was a ride.

Yes, I cried in public and no, I am not ashamed to say it was not the first time I have done so with something Louis related.

Anyways, getting back on track, I spent way more than I was expecting to, but it’s alright lol. I am confident it’s all going to be worth it.

Under the cut you can find a summary on everything that happened this week with the process, and more pictures of Jack, my dog.

Here’s everything I bought that day. The quantities are exactly what is in the pattern in JW Anderson’s website (plus an extra colour I bought but then found a better match for, which I might use if I run out of any colour). I did end up finding everything, but I had to go to a few different stores to do it. There’s kind of a shortage due to the current situation and the fact that these aren’t essential goods.

I wanted to start that same Saturday, but I decided to finish that scarf I was making before, just so I wouldn’t have to go through all the trouble of changing needles and storing it away where it would probably get messed up, so I finished it and here’s a photo of it:

I ended up doing an infinity scarf, and have some yarn leftover, maybe I’ll do a hat or something like that in the future. Yes, those are my PJ’s don’t judge me.

Then I procrastinated starting the actual sweater for all of Sunday and Monday (12th and 13th). That’s something I tend to do, if you haven’t noticed.

One thing I hadn’t thought of as particularly hard, ended up being something out of my nightmares (I also tend to over exaggerate, if you’re reading this, you’re really getting to know me lol).

That green square is incredibly awful.

The pattern itself isn’t that difficult, but if you have to undo some lines it completely falls apart and you have to start over. This happened to me like three times the first time I attempted it.

Usually it takes me half an hour to 45 minutes to do one square, this one took literally two hours and a half. But it was so much easier and quicker the second time around. Putting in a lifeline and doing tallies in a notepad every time I finished a line helped a lot.

Jack did end up making it better. Even if him laying directly on top of it made it difficult to work.

On the other hand, the black and red jacquard squares were something that had me slightly worried. The technique is kinda confusing and is very easy to mess up if you are not paying attention.

The first few lines I did wrong, but then I learned how to do it properly and while the handling of the multiple strands of yarn is difficult, you get the hang of it pretty quickly.

But then, horror struck.

I realised that for some reason I was doing the squares 12cm long and not 14cm like they are supposed to be. So that panel was going to end up being 6cm shorter than the others in total, which doesn’t seem like much but was definitely going to show.

Here you can see the mess. I had to undo basically two whole squares, since the first one was 14cm (I really don’t know what was going on in my brain) and the second one, which was a jacquard pattern one, could be continued, but those two squares cost me about a whole day of work.

I was so frustrated I decided to stop for the day and take a long hot shower.

I came back to it the next day and Jack made it all better (can you sense a pattern -no pun intended- here?).

So, to wrap it up:

They are lined up in the way they go in the completed sweater. The little notes on top help me keep track of which one is each of them. The numbers in blue show the order in which they were done.

The first one was pretty easy except for the green square I talked about before, I started that one on Tuesday (14th) and finished on Wednesday (15th). That same day I started the second one which I finished early on Thursday (16th), it was really uneventful which I appreciated a lot, apart from my pointer finger hurting from pushing the needle, so I decided to invent some kind of protection with tape and silicone, which failed extremely, because it rides up and falls off.

Here you can see my failed attempt at some kind of protection for my pointer finger. I basically need a thimble, but I can’t find one online.

Maybe the uneventfulness of panel number two was to make up for the absolute nightmare that was the third panel that I had started that same day, the one I talked about being 6cm too short. It threw me off the loop for the rest of the day, which meant I only finished it late on Friday (17th) and by then I was too tired to do anything else.

Yesterday, on Saturday (18th) I started the fourth one, but I didn’t have the energy to work that much, and today, Sunday (19th), I haven’t done much more than a couple of rows.

By this point I have 3 completed back centre panels and another one 3/4 of the way done. I just have that 1/4 and the two side panels (that include shoulder shaping) left to finish the back, and then I have the front, sleeves, cuffs, collar, ribs, and button band to finish the knitting. Then it’s all ready to sew together.

Just as I did with last post, I want to close this off with some pointers for what is coming, just to keep myself on track and look back to later:

This week I want to finish the back and leave it all ready for sewing when I’m done with the rest of the knitting.

I have to write for a fic exchange I wish I had started earlier but I’m still confident on the time I have left, so that will be my priority, and not knitting.

I start classes again on August 3rd and I hope to be finished by then (with both the sweater and the fic lol), I am kinda confident I will be able to do it since I’m kind of 1/3 of the way through, so if I keep the same pace, or an even better one, I’ll be able to make it.

Something I’m not looking forward to is doing the shoulder shaping, I have no idea how to.

I have been worried the yarn I bought isn’t going to be enough (it might be just my anxiety talking), but I think it’s going to be okay since I am nearly 1/3 of the way through on the squares with one of the colours, but I haven’t gone through that amount of yarn yet.

I have made the executive decision to not do the tassels with the left over yarn and to sew the panels and ribbing together right sides together (so the seams will be on the inside) to give it a more polished look, but this might change in the future.

I’m starting to see it take shape, even if only the back, and I’m really excited!!!

If you want to see the other posts in these series go to the top where the other parts are linked or go to the tag here.

[argylemnwrites]

Five Stages

Character: King Liam

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu) referenced

Book: The Royal Romance (The Royal Romance Books 2 and 3, The Royal Holiday, The Royal Heir, and beyond)

Word Count: ~1700

Rating:  PG

Summary: There probably isn’t a framework for handling your best friend and the woman you love falling for each other, but that won’t stop Liam from trying to work through it all.

Author’s Note: Something about watching Drake and MC be all lovey-dovey in The Royal Holiday got me thinking about how unrealistic it is that Liam just apparently got over all his pain and heartbreak off-screen. I know Liam is a stoic, reserved man, but I just wanted to explore how I envision his internal healing process progressing.

Denial

For the sake of his mental health, Liam had chosen to ignore a lot of things over the past week or so. In some ways, it had been surprisingly easy. Not that Liam had anticipated needing to cope with a rejected proposal, but if someone had asked him last month how he would cope with Riley Liu rejecting him for his best friend, he probably would have thought it would have been harder than he’d found it thus far. 

Part of the way he was handling it seemed fairly healthy as he was able to shift some focus towards being happy for one of his oldest and dearest friends. Still, somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he knew he was ignoring many little signs of their relationship. The looks they’d shared on the train back to the capital. The way they’d hung back from the group on the way from the beer garden to the palace. Her hand on his shoulder as she invaded his personal space with ease at the bar off to the side of the dance floor last night.

Granted, some things Liam had seen were harder to ignore. His hand low on her back as they left that same bar and attempted to sneak out of the ball without drawing attention to themselves. The fact that when they returned to the ball, they both looked slightly less polished and put together than they had before. The way the two of them held hands and cozied up to each other during the fireworks. And of course, Riley and Drake had both independently stated that they loved the other. But the mind could rationalize with amazing efficiency to protect itself. So, even in light of all of those moments, Liam had found himself able to forget about the realities of Drake and Riley being together. And then, the assassins last night had nearly completely distracted him from this topic. At least until this moment. 

There were a lot of things he could ignore when it came to Drake and Riley. The ring on her left hand as his best friend announced they were getting married just wasn’t one of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anger

It was probably fitting that Liam had first felt an intense rage in regards to Drake and Riley in Lythikos. He got the feeling that Olivia would have almost been proud if she had known, most likely telling him that it was important to keep a fire burning inside your soul to stay alert and focused, as well as warm in the frigid climate. And now that they were back in Lythikos for the holidays, Liam felt some of that anger work it’s way back into his mind.

Watching Drake and Riley flirt and tease each other was still irritating. He didn’t want it to be, and he intellectually understood that newlyweds were going to radiate an aura of giddy love. He just couldn’t help but resent it a little, just like he had back when they were here during their engagement and he’d been forced to be their relationship’s number one champion, pretending that it wasn’t obnoxious to watch them cling to each other on the dance floor, his fingers tracing over the strip of skin across her midriff left bare by her dress. When he’d had to announce time and time again that he was happy for them when he was well aware of the fact that they had just snuck out, unable to keep their hands off each other until the end of the ball.

Did they think that the fact they hadn’t immediately jumped into bed together made it alright that they had lied to him? Because they seemed to act like the fact that they “resisted” their attraction for a few months left them above reproach, that their actions weren’t at all a betrayal. Did they want a prize for not having sex initially? Did they not understand that an emotional affair was still an affair?

Part of him knew that viewing their relationship as an affair was disingenuous. After all, he and Riley had never been an official couple. There were other women during the social season, and after that there was Madeleine. But then he would see them hand in hand, lips against each other’s ears, undoubtedly whispering sweet nothings, and he just felt the irritation and rage rise in his chest again. Wasn’t it enough that they had each other? Did they really have to throw it in his face?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bargaining

Liam felt a bit foolish. He’d spent so much time and energy thinking about how Drake and Riley’s relationship impacted his own romantic life, but he’d never considered the practical impact their relationship would have on his own relationship with Drake.

He had gotten very used to Drake being around, his presence a comfort in times of stress and strain. It wasn’t that he took Drake’s friendship and support for granted, but he was just used to having it. But right now, they were on their honeymoon, and Liam didn’t know who to talk to about the pressures Auvernal was laying on him. It just felt bizarre not talking to him about the situation as it was evolving, but that obviously wasn’t an option at this time.

As he thought more about it, he realized that this was going to become more and more common going forward. For so long, he and Drake had been one of, if not the most important person in each other’s lives. But now Riley held that title without question for Drake. Liam could never hope to compete, and it was only going to get worse when they had children.

He knew he still had things to work through when it came to Drake and Riley. He knew that he was still processing his mess of emotions when it came to them. But he swore he was working on it, that he was getting over her and moving on. He just would have to try harder, though. Because he couldn’t risk losing them both. He wanted to go fishing with Drake when he needed to escape for just a few hours. He wanted to joke with Riley at council meetings. He wanted to be “Uncle Liam” to their children. He just needed to keep them in his life in some capacity. If he could make that happen, well that would be enough. He was sure of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Depression

Liam was lonely. That was a fact. He might be the most important person in the country, but that didn’t change the reality that he didn’t have anyone who saw him as the most important person in their life. He was publicly needed, personally all alone.

Leo called more often these days, inviting him on trips that would undoubtedly be filled with high-stakes gambling, Cuban cigars, expensive liquor, and even more expensive women. But Liam wasn’t up for that. He wanted the comforts and affection that came from long-standing love, not a temporary distraction. It wasn’t even really about not having a romantic partner, although that was certainly part of it. It was more about how isolated he felt, disconnected from literally everyone around him. 

He wanted someone to confide in and discuss his investigation into his mother’s death. He wanted someone who could comfort him as delving into his memories dragged up old pains and horrors. But instead he kept that all to himself, his feelings his alone to deal with as his time with his friends was focused on their lives. Olivia had her investigations. Maxwell had his novel. And of course Drake and Riley had impending parenthood and all that entailed.

Riley’s pregnancy seemed to be everyone’s focus these days, from the general populace to their entire social circle. And while Liam knew it wasn’t rational, he could help but feel alone and blue while everyone else moved on to better and brighter things. Drake and Riley just represented his separation with such profound clarity. His best friend and his ex, in love, married, and expecting a child, moving forward with their lives and leaving him behind. He knew he objectively led a blessed life. It just wasn’t what he craved most.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Acceptance

Liam smiled as he took in the sight around him in the palace’s private lounge. Olivia playing bartender, refusing to serve Drake whiskey until he drank a glass of Malbec, a sly smile sliding across her face as Drake scoffed and groaned while picking up the wine glass. Maxwell grabbing the baby from Riley’s lap, insisting he needed to teach his godchild some dance moves, the air filled with Riley’s laugh and the charming giggles that can only come from an infant who is completely delighted. Hana slicing a cinnamon apple cake she had made herself, all part of the perfectly simple birthday party she’d organized for him.

He had spent so long chasing things. Being a perfect ruler, the type of king that served the common man and the noble with care. Securing the country without repeating his father’s paranoid mistakes. Balancing foreign diplomacy with internal strength. But today, just for a few hours, he felt at peace, calm and content with the love of those closest to him.

Because love took on many forms, and the platonic love that surrounded him was absolutely something worth being grateful for. Just as he had worked to define the type of king he wanted to be, independent of his father and his legacy, he had worked to define what it meant for him to have personal connections, not just royal ones. And a low-key “commoner” birthday was just one way to embrace all the good things in his life.

Of course, he still hoped for a romantic partner, someone to share his life and with whom he could start a family. But wanting more didn’t mean he couldn’t celebrate what he had right now. He had gained enough perspective and experience to see that. Twenty-nine had been rough, and thirty hadn’t been much better, but painful times were not indefinite. Liam had no idea what thirty-one would bring, but he was hopeful. All he could really do was take it one day at a time.

Tags: @dcbbw @mfackenthal @yaushie @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley–walker @thequeenofcronuts @notoriouscs @butindeed @octobereighth @ao719​

[doubledeaky]

Art Deco

John Deacon x Female!Reader Smut

A/N: Hi, everyone! First, apologies for the lack of consistent updates for “See What a Fool I’ve Been.” The third part will definitely be out Monday or Tuesday. Until then, here’s some Freaky Deaky to tide you all over. This was inspired by @captain--americanna‘s post of this particular photo of John! Thank you for the inspiration dear! Ok, hope everyone enjoys! As always, feedback is very much appreciated! -m:)

Summary: You’re a fresh face on the Queen crew lineup; your main tasks - get all four of them from one venue to another in an orderly fashion, preferably sober, dressed, and ready to play. As the 1974 tour quickly approaches, you find yourself falling for a particular bassist. During their first show, John bares it all in a beyond extravagant outfit and you can’t control yourself any longer. Much to your surprise, neither can John.

Word Count: 6,176 words (oh my)

Warnings: some cursing and sexual content (18+ only please!) 

You were struggling to keep up with the suited man walking briskly before you, clipboard in hand. Your heeled feet ached under the quick pace, but you forced your legs to carry your weight at a speed that almost matched the man’s. This particular man was the tour manager for a particular rock band, that particular rock band being Queen. Despite the burn of your muscles, excitement reverberated from every corner of your body as the pair of you neared the recording studio that housed said rock band. While you were excited, you were also beyond nervous, terrified even. Being hired as a personal assistant and stylist for an up and coming band was honestly a dream come true but now that your dream had become reality, your stomach flipped violently with anxiety. You were nervous for a number of reasons. First, you were afraid that the band wouldn’t welcome you or that the five of you wouldn’t connect and you’d lose the job you so yearned for. Second, the idea of having to be in the constant company of four guys was daunting; you had no brothers growing up. You hoped you’d figure out how to handle them quickly. Third, you were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to handle the demands of the job and get the boot.

You picked at the black polish covering your nails as the man with the clipboard finally halted his unnaturally quick pace and gestured for you to take a seat. You sat and looked up at him expectantly as he flipped through the large stack of papers and forms on the board. He furrowed his brows and for some ungodly reason, the action had your body tensing. He looked up at you briefly before bringing his wrist up to study his watch. He cleared his throat and folded his arms, clipboard hanging loosely under his suede-clad arm.

“Alright, here’s the deal. Your job is to dress them, get them to gigs at a reasonable hour, and keep them happy. Easy enough, right?” He laughed quietly, looking down again at his clipboard and raising his brows. You nodded, a little unconvinced by his last statement but still remained polite. He looked up at you for a verbal answer and you nervously coughed, nodding again.

“Right.” You said, giving him your most convincing, sugary-sweet smile. He nodded, giving you a tight-lipped grin. The man looked exhausted and you feared the boys in the room across the hall would chew you up and spit you out with no hesitation. In the five minutes the two of you had made brief discussion, you’d managed to chipped off three fingernails worth of polish and you chastised your frazzled nerves. He huffed as he placed the clipboard under his arm again.

“Ok, ready to meet your bosses?” He asked, extending his hand for you to take. You took it graciously, afraid your legs wouldn’t be able to properly hold your frame on their own. He led you to the room with a comforting hand on your back and gave you a genuine, reassuring smile as he reached to turn the knob of the door. Before he completed the action he looked at you and whispered an encouragement, noticing your panicked eyes.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. They’ll adore you.” He said, smiling sweetly. You returned it, his friendly demeanor reminded you of your dad and it was nice knowing he’d be around to bring reason to situations you would surely make unreasonable. He opened the door softly, knocking on it as the two of you entered.

“Boys? Are you all decent?” He asked, letting go of the door knob and standing straight with his hands folded in front of him. He gestured for you to come out from behind his tall stature and you did, cautiously. He laughed softly and patted your upper back in an attempt to shake the nerves from your form. A loud crash suddenly boomed from the far left side of the room, behind the sound-proof door funnily enough. The man beside you groaned and rubbed the bridge of his noise with his thumb and pointer finger. You tried to stifle your giggle with a hand over your smiling mouth. Then, as if they were all pressed against the door, four eccentrically-dressed men fell out into the control room. You widened your eyes and stepped back slightly, they were certainly different. They all groaned and giggled, squirming around on the floor like puppies. The man beside you cleared his throat loudly; which did little to capture their attention as they all continued to laugh, holding their stomachs and wiping tears. The man huffed.

“Boys, please. We have a guest. Can the four of you keep it together for more than five minutes?” He said, gesturing for them to get up from the floor and greet you properly.

“Terribly sorry, Gerry. It’s all in good fun.” The man with straight, jet black hair and lined eyes said as he got up and dusted off his white pants. The man beside you- Gerry, you noted- rolled his eyes and hummed disapprovingly. The black-haired man smirked, mischievous and childlike. You felt anxious again, you were certainly in for a wild ride with these characters.

“All right, all right. Enough pissing around. Boys, this is Y/N. You’re new stylist and personal assistant.” Gerry said, turning to give you a reassuring grin and gesturing for you to introduce yourself personally to the four of them. The black-haired man was quick to pull you into a tight hug. You returned it, a bit hesitant at first but his cheery energy somehow calmed your uneasy one. He pulled away and smiled, looking at you with an almost earnest admiration.

“Freddie Mercury.” He said, affirmatively, giving you a wide smile. You returned it, already looking forward to getting to know this enigma of a man. He held both of your hands and lifted your arms, holding you out before him at arms length and giving you a once-over.

“My, my. You are certainly qualified for the position of a stylist. Very chic, I love it.” He quipped, and you blushed under his gaze. He gingerly placed your arms back to your sides, stepping aside and turning to fiddle with the soundboards, allowing you to continue with the introductions.

The next man, tall and curly-haired, extended a hand out to you with a kind smile. You took it, returning the gesture and nodding your head politely.

“Brian May, wonderful to meet you.” He said, his voice smooth and soft, comforting. You smiled sweetly, and released his hand.

“Ditto.” You replied, giggling, and he followed, your laugh strangely infectious. He nodded and followed Freddie to fiddle with the soundboards, a bit more expertise behind the movements of his fingers. The next man was a bit shorter, blonde, blue-eyed, beautiful, and nearly shirtless. You couldn’t prevent the pink blush that dusted your cheeks as he placed a gentle kiss to your cheek, shaking your outstretched hand as he pulled away.

“Roger Taylor. Looking forward to having you around.” He flirted, sending you a quick wink and walking away to plop down on the couch, lighting a cigarette almost immediately. You nodded politely in his direction and you could tell he was pleased with your flustered state. You wrung your hands and turned to the fourth and final man. He gave you a kind smile and offered you his ringed-hand to shake. You took it graciously and admired his enchanting but classic appearance. You could infer that he was the black sheep among his band mates. Dressed only in a red flannel shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers. The only thing connecting him to the rock star look was his long, wavy brown hair.

“John Deacon, bassist. Terribly sorry you’ll be babysitting us for the next nine months.” He joked, letting his hand fall to his side after your friendly handshake. You giggled and he seemed pleased he’d gotten a laugh out of you, beaming with pride.

“I wouldn’t have taken the job if I couldn’t handle the likes of you.” You quipped, turning to point a painted finger in the direction of the other three, who all joined in on the easy laughter. You suddenly felt comfortable among these rockstars, something you thought would come with time and not on the very first day. You felt that welcome sense of giddiness fill your chest and for the first time since you’d been awarded the job, you looked forward to the upcoming months of touring Queen was scheduled to fulfill. You turned back to John and gave him a goofy smile.

“Thank you for your apology in advance. Now I know who I’m certainly going to like the most.” You said, mostly to him, but the rest of the room certainly heard and all adopted sly smirks. John looked down at the linoleum floor, flustered at your comment. He was also pretty sure who he was going to like the most over the next nine months.

***

The first date of Queen’s debut tour was quickly approaching and you were swamped in assignments gifted to you by the band, you were loving it. Creating and assembling extravagant stage costumes was awarding you with a passion you’d never experienced. You pumped out costume after costume in such an efficient manner and the band was blown away, especially Freddie. He often spent hours on end over your shoulder, watching you work in pure awe. Today was no different, Freddie was nearly perched atop your shoulder with his jaw touching the floor.

“My God, I have truly been blessed. Never have I seen a fellow designer have a vision so similar to mine. Not only that, you go beyond my expectations. You’re truly a blessing, Y/N” He complimented you endlessly and you couldn’t help but grow flustered, a wide grin stretched across your face. Freddie was now marveling at finished pieces hung on the rack across the room, begging to be worn and showed off.

“Thank you, Freddie. Don’t let me get a big head, my dear. These are your designs, I just so happen to bring them to life.” You said, trying to give him a subtle compliment and downplay the praise he’d just awarded you.

“Don’t be silly, darling. I could give you a simple noun on Monday and you’d have something incredible ready by Thursday. You’re truly a talent.” He said, refusing to allow you to deny the obvious talent in your possession.

“You spoil me, Mercury.” You quipped, focusing on the fabric being fed through the needle of your sewing machine.

“I don’t mind.” He responds slyly, grabbing a few pieces from the rack labeled “Freddie” and placing them over his bent arm.

“If you need me, I’ll be trying these lovely ladies on in the next room. Thank you again, dear.” Freddie called as he exited the room with a practiced grace. You smiled and shook your head. Freddie surely was an enigma.

Moments later, the door to the room opened softly but you didn’t notice, the whirring of your machine blocking almost all surrounding noise. John closed the door behind him and leant against it, admiring you in your element. Though he had trouble admitting it, over the last few weeks of tour preparation, he’d developed a small crush on the band’s on-call therapist and devoted seamstress. Like Freddie was to you, you were to John-an enigma. He admired your passion for your work. When he would run his hands over the careful beading of Freddie’s garments and notice the precise hand-stitching of the many jackets and vests Roger demanded of you, he knew you were meant to do this and you poured your heart and soul into every piece of fabric. He admired your patience and rock-solid tolerance of the band’s constant demands and immature antics. You never complained and did everything with a saccharine sweet smile, never failing to melt John’s heart. You were exactly what the band needed, a dedicated individual who could really take a beating but above all, a friend. You had really become a part of the group and your support of their endeavors and artistic visions was exactly what a young band like Queen needed. However, the thing about you that had John shifting in his seat from time to time was how drop-dead gorgeous you were. Despite humble beginnings, you had an effortless confidence about you and you weren’t afraid to let everyone know. John loved everything about you and the ache in his lower stomach was a constant reminder of his infatuation with you. John continued to watch you work until he shifted his weight and knocked over a heavy rack of clothes, sending it crashing loudly to the floor. He cringed as it landed, and you jumped in your cushiony work chair.

“Shit!” You yelped, turning back to identify the culprit. Your annoyed facade softened when you noticed it was John Deacon, infamous klutz. You rolled your eyes playfully as he stumbled to return the rack to its position, piling clothes in his arms to hang back up.

“Need some help there, my dear.” You joked, leaning your cheek against your hand. He looked up, obviously flustered and stuttered out an apology.

“Sorry, Y/N. Never been very good with not making a mess.” He laughed, still a bit embarrassed as he struggled to place the garments back on cushioned and velvety hangers. You laughed fondly and stood from your seat to help him. He watched you with concentration, noting which pieces belonged on which hanger. As you both worked to restore the rack of its clothes, John’s right hand brushed against your left as you both hung up a costume simultaneously. The shocks running up and down your nerves was enough to have you hastily pulling your hand away, slightly startled. John seemed just a surprised and he massaged his palm with his other hand after he let it fall from its position on the rack. You both remained quiet for a moment, your rapid breaths the only sound bouncing off of the peeling green walls. You cleared your throat suddenly, grabbing John’s attention immediately. You looked up at him and swallowed, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his red hot gaze.

“Did you need anything, John?” You whispered and John coughed, feeling a bit flustered and silly now.

“Um, no, no. The boys wanted me to ask if you’d like to get dinner. Our treat.” He said, nervously shifting from one foot to the other and biting his thumb nail with a nervous enthusiasm. You pulled his thumb from between his teeth and gave him a pointed look, quickly calming him with a smile. You nodded and laced your arm in his, grabbing your purse and locking your eyes with his surprised grey ones.

“I’d love to.” You said simply, guiding him out of the door and down the hall. He prayed you couldn’t feel his pace quicken as you laced your delicate fingers with his ringed ones. As you walked through the mind-bending corridors of the studio, you noticed none of the others boys seemed to be present. John noted your confusion and was quick to explain.

“They got a head start.” He said, gesturing to the empty parking spot that usually housed the band’s beloved van as the two of you exited the studio. You giggled sweetly and John’s heart fluttered.

“Well in that case, let me be the chauffeur. Least I could do for a free dinner.” You said, throwing a smirk his way. He nodded a bit too enthusiastically, like a child answering to the question of “More ice cream?” John laughed at his own nervousness and hopped into your car, the backseat filled with at least seven separate types of fabric, all in an array of different colors. You noticed his eyes scanning the backseat and laughed as you turned the key in the ignition, the car spitting then revving to life smoothly.

“Certainly don’t leave anything to the imagination, huh? I want everyone to know I make clothes for her majesty.” You joked, quickly peeling out into the busy city street. John laughed, his eyes bunching up and the gap of his teeth on full display for to admire. The two of you joked and gave each other the run-around the entire fifteen minute drive, laughing fondly and fiercely like old friends reconnecting. This difference was the prolonged gazes, lip bites, and adoring glances the two of you shared. John sat back against the window as a comfortable silence settled in the vehicle. His eyes scanned your regal profile, tracing the curves and slopes with the darting movements of his irises. You were truly a beauty; classic and modern with a killer personality to boot. John leant his head back on the head rest of his seat and bit at the inside of his lips, the next nine months were certainly going to be interesting.

***

The first date of Queen’s debut US tour was quickly approaching, just days away in fact and you could tell the four musicians were getting antsy. The flight to their first destination was today and you were more than excited to finally be in attendance of the breakout band, in America no less. Their first stop was a state you couldn’t quite recall the name of but you were excited, nevertheless, as you pulled into the parking lot of the studio to meet the band and attending crew. You first noticed John leaning gingerly on the west side of the band’s large tour bus smoking a cigarette, his suitcases resting idly at his feet. You smiled and yanked your key from the ignition, hopping out of your car with a childlike enthusiasm. John noticed this and smiled, walking over to help you with your luggage-ever the gentleman. You joined him at the trunk and gave him an apologetic smile as his eyes widened at the six suitcases stuffed in the small space, not including your carry-on.

“Got to look my best.” You giggled, hauling two suitcases out of the trunk, John copying your actions. He laughed and nodded, gesturing to the many trunks and racks of handmade costumes being loaded into a separate van.

“Understandable, considering you’ve intended to have us dressed to the nines for every show.” He joked and you nodded, a bit embarrassed. You had made an abundance of costumes-maybe enough for two tours, but Freddie insisted.

“So, you excited?” You asked, as the both of you pushed your four largest suitcases into the back of the cargo bus.

“Yeah, a bit nervous but I’ll be alright.” He said, giving you a sweet grin and following you back to your car for the remainder of your bags. You giggled, waving his words off dismissively.

“Nothing to be nervous about, love. You’ll all do fantastic.” You assured him with one of your famous, honeyed smiles and who was John to go against your better judgment. He nodded, grabbing the remainder of your luggage while you closed the trunk and locked your car; looking forward to the next nine months.

***

You were running about the backstage area frantically, preparing for Queen’s first performance in less than two hours. Three of the four of them were dressed, the outfits possessing a similar theme that created a unity among them-they looked like a band. You were doing last minute adjustments, making sure every detail was perfect and ready to be appreciated by the excited eyes of the crowd. After you gave the three of them the okay to relax and shake any pre-show nerves from their system, you looked around in confusion at the area surrounding you. Where was John?

You walked around, feeling dread settle in your stomach as each location you checked proved fruitless. You finally found him, asleep on the couch of the dressing room. You couldn’t stifle your giggle, shaking your head in disbelief.

“John!” You shouted, swatting his leg which hung off of the edge of the worn, leather couch. He stirred slightly but immediately fell back asleep. You huffed, a bit frustrated and antsy now, and shook his shoulders with enough force to wake him. He looked confused for a moment but when his eyes focused on your features, he smiled and yawned.

“God, John, I have no time for your sleepy ass.” You joked as you grabbed his designated costume from his personal rack. He laughed and sat up, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rode up, revealing his abdomen and the muscles of his arms tensed, then relaxed as they fell into his lap. You felt yourself blush but quickly shoved his outfit, still on the hanger, into his hands.

“Get dressed, goofy. Show time’s in thirty.” You said, moving to grab the makeup, which the entire band was sporting, from the vanity. John noticed this and furrowed his brows.

“Makeup?” He asked, cringing slightly.

“Makeup.” You confirmed, sending him a mischievous smirk. He groaned but continued to change, taking off his t-shirt and pulling the skin-tight vest over his torso. Your breath hitched slightly in your throat, was he really going to change in front of you? You busied yourself, fiddling with random garments and tubes of eyeliner. John proceeded to pull on the tight, jet black trousers and threw the silk kimono over his frame, shifting to study his figure in the mirror. He looked pleased with his appearance.

“Nice job, Y/L/N.” He commented, sitting back down to pull on his tall platform boots. You smiled, and turned to toss a bowtie in his direction. He looked a little confused as his long fingers fiddled with it.

“Put that on and then get over here so I can do your makeup.” You said in your best authoritative voice and John whined from behind you.

Do I have to?” He asked, lacing the bowtie around his throat. You turned and felt your body heat up exponentially as you took in his appearance. Nice job indeed, Y/L/N. You cleared your throat and held a chubby stick of eyeliner up to his face.

“Yes, sir.” You said, grabbing his shoulders and sitting him down in front of the bright lights of the vanity. He huffed and crossed his arms, clearly unhappy with the idea of having what looked like charcoal smeared near his eyes.

“Oh, stop, you big baby. It won’t kill you.” You joked, as you proceeded to line his eyes to the best of your ability, his twitching and constant blinking making it hard. As you applied an ash-grey shadow to his lid, the situation felt weirdly intimate. You could feel his breath fan over your chest and neck and he could feel yours wash over his face. You smelt like roses and tailor’s chalk and he smelt like coffee and adrenaline. It was intoxicating and it took all of your strength to push down the urge to kiss his pouted lips as you completed the envisioned look.

“All done.” You coughed nervously, bringing John out of his trance. He peered at himself in the mirror and laughed.

“I look like a proper dick.” He laughed, scooting closer to the mirror to further examine your work. You giggled and playfully swatted his arms.

“You look like a proper rockstar, Deacon. Now get outta here! You’ve got a show in ten.” You said, eyes widening as you glanced at your wristwatch. You ushered him out of the room, a roadie handing him his bass as you both neared the main stage. You quickly joined the four of them to snap a photo, the flash of the camera blinding them momentarily. You gestured for them to stay put and took a step back to look at your work, perfect. They looked absolutely incredible and you felt pride bubble in your chest, finally seeing your hardwork pay off. You waved them towards the stage with a wide smile.

“Break a leg, boys. I’ll be in the crowd, front and center.” They all nodded, waving and smiling your way as they took the stage; the crowd cheering widely. You walked into the crowd from the wings and politely elbowed your way to the section of people consisting of Queen’s staff, right at the front and to the far left. You took your place next to three friendly roadies and cheered along with the crowd. You sent John a smile, which he returned. The heavy rhythm of John’s bass joined the crowd’s attention and you witnessed pure magic for forty-five minutes. This was the first time you’d seen them perform properly and all of your suspicions were confirmed, they were beyond good.

You understood now the awe they held for you when you created costumes, this was their thing, the thing they were meant to do. You noticed your eyes focus on John much longer than anyone else and it had your entire body humming, unbelievably hot. This didn’t go unnoticed by John, who was trying desperately to shift his weight and cover his arousal with the body of his bass. You looked breathtaking under the purple light illuminating the room and John felt a hunger grow in his lower abdomen. He needed you and no amount of prior hesitation or doubts would stop him once his roadie took his bass from him. The shift in John’s demeanor wasn’t unnoticed by you, his eyes looked desperate and his lips were blood red from constant biting and picking. The show ended, the wails of the adoring crowd pulling you from your daze. You watched the four of them thank the crowd and disappear behind the heavy black curtain separating the people from the band. You were quick to follow them into the wings and then the dressing room, intending to congratulate the four. You knocked quickly and swung the door open with a big smile but only John was there, sat patiently on the same worn couch he’d been napping on a few hours before. You furrowed your brows and walked over to him.

“Where are the others?” You asked, tilting your head at him softly. He smiled, wiping the sweat from his brow with a rag. His eye makeup was smudged and his hair was mussed, he looked like a dream.

“They went for drinks. I wasn’t really feeling it, just wanted to chill.” He said simply, patting the spot next to him, beckoning you to sit down. You did and turned to him with a toothy smile, leaning your head against your hand.

“Enjoy the show?” He asked, taking a sip of water. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and the heat in your belly intensified. You nodded in response, trying to distract yourself from the arousal growing within you.

“I could tell.” He whispered, confidently bringing a hand to your thigh, squeezing gently. Your eyes widened slightly, but you didn’t stop him. He brought his face closer to yours.

“I saw the way you were looking at me. A deer in headlights, really.” He laughs, his warm breath fanning over your neck. You felt a whimper build in your throat as his hand continued to inch up your thigh, squeezing with increasing intensity.

“John..” You trailed off, gasping as his lips brushed across the swell of your collarbone.

“Do you want me?” He says into your neck, soft lips sending shivers throughout your entire body. You couldn’t stop the quiet moan that slipped past your lips and John grinned as his fingers gripped your hips.

“Yes.” You breathed, lacing your fingers in his hair, still slightly damp from sweat. John seemed pleased with your answer, attaching his lips to your neck and sucking softly, determined to work hickies into your delicate skin. You exhaled sharply, your body arching into his, breasts pressed flush against his chest. He continued to mouth at your neck and chest, fingers pushing past the material of your blouse. He removed his lips from your neck and looked into your hooded eyes, pupils dilated in lust.

“May I?” He whispers, eager to remove your top. You nod frantically, feeling suffocated by the fabric. John quickly peels it off of your torso, groaning at the sight hidden underneath.

“My God, Y/N.” He breaths, eyes wide and mouth watering. With a sudden burst of confidence, you hold his gaze and reach behind you to remove your bra and John’s hands tighten their grip on your hips, anticipating every movement. You unclasp and throw your bra to the side, brushing your hair behind you so John can have a complete view of your chest. He moans at the sight of your naked chest, hands coming up from your hips and over your ribs to cup them softly in his hands. His eyes flit up to meet yours in silent permission and you grant it with a delicate moan. He circles his lips around your left nipples, his hand kneading the other. The heat in your abdomen is nearly unbearable as he continues his ministrations. You moaning consistently now, breathy and full of want. John can feel the fabric of his pants grow uncomfortably tight and his legs are shifting in an attempt to relieve some pressure.

“John, please.” You breath out, your arm thrown over your eyes, hips bucking involuntarily. John removes his mouth from your breast, climbing up the length of your body to place a searing kiss to your lips. It steals the air from your lungs and your gasping when he pulls away to speak.

“Yes, dove? What do you need?” He asks, moving to undo your jeans. You moan out, the pressure of his hand on your lower tummy enough to send a shockwave of pleasure through you.

“I want you. All of you.” You say, mind clear enough to sit up and climb upon his lap. John is surprised by your sudden action but doesn’t complain, his hand making themselves comfortable on your hips and effectively grinding you against his hardening length. The friction has your mind spinning and a broken moan escapes the both of you.

“You have me.” He whispers, grabbing your face to pull you into a kiss, sloppy and full of want. You grasp at the material of his kimono, desperate to see him shirtless.

“Off.” You command softly and he complies, taking off his kimono and vest in one motion. Your lips immediately press against the hollow space above his clavicle, moving slowly up the column of his throat. He groans, the feeling of your lips and clothed core against his lap overwhelming his senses. You lower your mouth, kissing your way down his torso until youre above the hem of his trousers. His jaw is clenched tightly now, hands brushing hair from your face as you undo and take off his trousers, leaving him in boxers and smudged makeup only. You stand up with the intention to remove your own pants but you take a moment to admire him. Your eyes doing a slow once over along the entire length of his body. He’s reminiscent of a painting hung on the grand wall of a house with gilded pillars and crystal chandeliers, a stunning sight and it’s all yours. He seems embarrassed under your gaze and you smile dreamily at him, removing your jeans and returning to your position atop his lap. He groans, the idea of only two layers separating you beyond arousing. His fingers are dancing softly along the length of your arms and it only adds to the sensations your experiencing at the moment. You run your hands through his now dry hair, your nails grazing his scalp and his eyes flutter shut.

“You are so beautiful, John.” You whisper into his ear, your fingers brushing back his hair so he doesnt miss a word. He looks at you as you pull away, eyes heavy lidded and smile lazy.

“You’ll be the death of me, dove.” He says quietly, pulling you in for a chaste kiss while his fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear. You know what he’s asking and you nod as his lips press against the base of your throat. He removes them and stuffs them into the pocket of his trousers, which are tossed over the arm of the couch and he looks back at you with a smirk. You giggle and smack his shoulder playfully, the gesture reminding you of classic high school romance. You lean down, your lips mere centimeters from his.

“You don’t need to take them, love. You’ll be seeing a lot more of them after this.” You whisper, silky and beyond seductive and it has John whimpering softly.

“But if you’re going to take them, I’ll need something in return.” You quip, your hands raking down his chest to remove his boxers, his cock promptly slapping against his lower stomach. He groans as a slight amount of pressure is expelled from his body. Your hand delicately grasps his cock, pumping it slowly and your eyes study the micro movements of his face as you do. His eyes are squeezed shut, lip caught between his teeth, and brow brimmed with sweat. You kiss the space behind his ear, your hot breaths bringing him close to release at an alarming pace. He stops your movements and you sit back, confused. His hand grip your hips tightly, rubbing your wet folds against his length slowly, deliberately. You whimper, you nails pressing red, crescent moon shapes into the skin of his shoulders. He groans, his falling back against the couch. His eyes meet yours, his pupils taking up a majority of his grey iris.

“I need to feel you.” He growls, pulling your torso flush against him, your breast pressing against his upper chest.

“I’m waiting for you.” You say smugly, your cockiness melting as he slips into you, the stretch absolutely delicious. You both moan out, your head falling into the crook of his shoulders. After a beat, John experimentally snaps his hips up into yours and the high-pitched moan that escapes you encourages him, setting an intense pace.

“Look at me.” He growls, wanting nothing else but to see you fall apart over him. You meet his eyes, your hips instinctively meeting his in an age-old rhythm.

“John, I-I’m close.” You moan out, hands splayed across his chest. The sensation of him inside you, stretching you, brushing against all four walls is so intense it has you seeing stars.

“Let go, love. I’ve got you.” He whispers, leaning back to watch your features contort in pleasure, still maintaining a brutal pace and intensity. You cum, your walls fluttering against his cock and he’s absolutely in awe at the sight of you. Mouth agape, hair draped around your features, eyes shut in pleasure. John knows he’s close and you can feel it as you ride out your orgasm. You clench around him, hips still bouncing atop him. He groans, biting his lip with enough force to draw blood.

“C’mon, John. Cum for me. Let me feel you.” You whisper into his ear, feeling beyond sensitive as he continues to thrust up into. He cums with a long, strangled moan; his hands gripping your hips with a bruising strength. You both still for a moment, panting heavily, his cock still sheathed inside of you. He gently lifts you up and pulls out, you whimper at the empty feeling. His cum is pooling onto the couch and John curses, grabbing his t-shirt from the floor to catch it. You wince and giggle, leaning down to lay flush against him, your arms wrapping around his neck. His own arms rest atop the length of your lower back, fingers dancing along the soft skin. John is pressing soft kisses into your hair, the both of you waiting for your breathing to even out. After a few moments of stillness, John lifts his head to speak.

“We should probably get dressed. The boys are no doubt on their way back.” He laughs, pulling up his boxers as you move from his lap to stand up. You start to dress and you hear John groan from behind. You turn around to see him in his blue jeans only, holding his soiled t-shirt.

“Don’t worry, love. I have something for you.” You say, wrapping your arms around his middle as you take the shirt from him and toss it into the band’s dirty laundry bag.

“My God, you’re an angel.” He says, gratefully, pulling you into a sweet kiss. You giggle and pull away giving him a clean shirt from the rack across the room.

“I try.” You say smugly, beckoning him with your pointer finger to follow you out of the door. He smiles, not hesitating to fall in line behind you as he pulls the clean shirt over his head. He’s laughing like a child, giddy and without restraint as he wonders what you have in store. Now more than ever, he’s so looking forward to the next nine months.

-Thank you reading! Feedback is very much appreciated! -m:)

[kasienda]

Fanfiction Year in Review 2019

@floraone​ tagged me, but I was going to do it anyway! 

1. List of fics completed this year:

A Fight and Make Up (An Untitled UsaMamo Drabble) Superhero Survey (Miraculous Reveal) Last Wishes (Ladybug) Word Vomit (Sailor Moon Reveal) Kiss (Sailor Moon Reveal) The Sol of the System (Sailor Moon)

2. Number of words written:

In the year of 2019, I published 55,755 words in various stories. Not as many as last year, but under my circumstances I’m pretty proud of that number. (My 750words app says I’ve written 108k since May, but that’s not all fic writing. Though like 90% of it is. It’s also mostly not published though). 

3. Your most popular fic this year:

Last Wishes – I have no idea where this story came from. I was in a weird mood and it was haunting me and I had to get it out! And like Nightmares (and no other fic I’ve ever written), it came so easily. Wrote the whole thing in about three sittings. And apparently, it resonated with a lot of people (made a lot of people cry). And I gotta say, this Ladybug fandom is wild in that you can get like 100 kudos in a day! I’m way too addicted to that feeling. But in the Sailor Moon Fandom, my most popular fic this year was A Craving for Chocolate Milkshakes, which makes sense because really that’s the only story I’ve been somewhat consistently updating this year. Besides Last Wishes, everything I’ve published this year have been one-offs. 4. Your personal favorite this year:

I don’t know!! Why do you make me pick from my children?!

I’m insanely proud of the most recent update of Craving for Chocolate Milkshakes and the Fight/Make Up Drabble (maybe I should give it a name). 

Like, I’m so pleased with how these came out. But I also just reread Last Wishes searching for the review that touched me this year, and I’m kinda in awe. It’s just so amazing and powerful. And I’m crying! I’m not sure I believe that I wrote it. 

5. Your favorite scene:

This is an excerpt from Chapter Two of An Open Secret (which isn’t published, BUT I wrote it earlier this week so that’s 2019 right?!), which was supposed to be a one off for the ML Secret Santa Fic Exchange, and it grew into a multi-chapter fic! I just love it when that happens! “I have to tell her how I feel,” Adrien thought out loud. “Do you think she likes me?” 

“Aren’t you tired of letting Ladybug break your heart?” Plagg asked, floating lazily through the air.

“Not ladybug. Marinette!”

Plagg whipped around to hover behind Adrien’s shoulders. Sure enough, Adrien was pouring through Marinette’s Instagram feed, and not his Ladybug album. 

“Marinette? Since when? I thought Marinette was ‘just a friend.’”

“I did too, Plagg! But she’s been so different this week! She’s not nervous, and I think I love her so much.”

“What about Ladybug?”

“I’ll always love Ladybug, but she’s made it clear that she’s interested in someone else.”

Plagg was proud of himself for not laughing. 

“Do you think she likes me?” Adrien asked. 

Plagg rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you have to ask.”

“She doesn’t, does she? I mean, why would she? Why was she always so nervous around me before? Did she hate me?”

“You don’t give me enough cheese for this,” the kwami grumbled. 

6. A fic or scene that challenged you:

The Sol of the System was so hard! I was writing for someone else who seemed to really like Silver Millennium, and I love the Silver Millennium as past life baggage that informs current fears and behaviors, but as its own thing? I never really felt connected to it! And then, I tried to give it a sci-fi twist, which is also not my genre! And even once I had a concept that I thought I could do something with, I had no time to work on it!! Somehow, it magically came together. @tinacentury​ has a lot to do with that. (She’ll say that she didn’t do much, but she’s so wrong!!) So, does my husband for kinda taking the kids for the last day and a half before the deadline so I could just write! 

7. A line of writing you’re proud of:

In general, my use of parentheticals in the Fight Make Up UsaMamo Drabble makes me SO HAPPY! And I’m so sad that hardly anyone read this short!! One line doesn’t really capture the technique though, so here’s six and half paragraphs… (My husband is rolling his eyes so hard right now…) 

...

Mamoru watched her from his usual booth like he had everyday for the last week. He had no right, he knew it, but he couldn’t tear himself away. Usagi was light and he was a moth. She was morphine and he was a drug addict. It physically hurt to be in her presence when he couldn’t even speak to her, but it was somehow better than not seeing her at all.

He stared at the back of her golden head seated in a booth across the Fruit Parlor's dining room. They had progressed far enough into their break up that it was possible for them to inhabit the same room (well, a large restaurant in any case) without either of them bursting into tears or retreating completely.

But today, Usagi was stretching his tolerance. She had come in with a friend (a male friend). Though maybe friend was too strong a word as it was quickly apparent that the boy sitting across from his girlfriend (his ex-girlfriend) was an assigned partner for some school project.

But even if it had been a date with romantic intentions, Mamoru liked to think he could have handled it. He wasn't completely confident he could make that claim, but he wanted to be able to say it was true. Because, more than anything, he just wanted to see Usagi happy.

And if he had to stay away to keep her breathing, he couldn't be the one to do that. It would have been hard, but he would have forced himself to bare it, just as he had forced himself to break up with her (the best thing that had ever happened in his miserable life) so that she would be safe.

But that wasn't the situation. They were supposed to be working on the project, but the boy was too familiar with her. His head kept invading her work space, he slid closer to her so that their sides were touching, and he accidentally touched her too often to be coincidence. 

And again, it would have been fine (who was he kidding; he would have been a jealous mess) if Usagi welcomed the boy's advances. 8.  A comment that touched you:

I received this comment on my Last Wishes Fic. And spent two days and asked for lots of advice in how to respond. Then when I finally did, this person told me that this story helped them talk about how they were feeling about their loss with their family. Like guys, this isn’t why I started writing fic, but OMG it definitely keeps me going.

On a lighter note, I also kinda love it whenever one of my Sailor Moon followers comments on a Ladybug fic that I’ve written. Like to me, it’s the biggest compliment that they like my writing enough, that they’re willing to cross over to a different fandom for a bit. @beej88​ even crossed fandoms and genres for me. And whenever I’m sad about not getting reviews from my giftee, @floraone​ pops in with an essay and I feel like it doesn’t matter if my giftee never responds at all. (She may have done this twice without knowing how good her timing was… and for the record ONE of my giftees totally responded with gushing praise, so… I just gotta be more patient!)

And I especially appreciate @tinacentury​ for all the behind the scenes comments and encouragement and then also taking the time to comment on stories after the fact as well!!

9. Something that inspired your writing this year:

So, first off, my friends here have been so encouraging.

The Miraculous Ladybug Community – I’ve delved into a new fandom (blame my sister!). And man, I really like the dynamic of being in an insanely active fandom where the source material isn’t finished yet. It’s like working in a living breathing thing, and that’s so cool. Also, I get so many comments/kudos even being a pretty unknown author there and I’m very addicted to this validation. (Though I made a rec list!! I was so excited!! Thank you @alexseanchai​!!). It also makes me feel like a traitor to my Sailor Moon roots though…

750words.com – this is a little app that just made writing feel easy. It made writing a habit, and took off the pressure of getting it perfect! I feel like it’s taught me to write a lot faster and worry about perfecting it later.  This little app is what gave me the structure to keep writing when my life has been insane!

10. Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc)

I participated in two fic exchanges this year! I’ve never done this before. And I kinda love the experience of writing for what you think someone else would like. It forced me to write in a different headspace and write to a deadline, which apparently, I’m very capable of doing. And it definitely pushed me into writing things that are different than I normally write.

Also, that I wrote and published anything at all inbetween taking care of a medically fragile four-year-old and an infant who was born in March and going back to work this past September. (Writing has only become more important to me. It’s how I recharge and deal with stress, so I’m clearly not going to stop).

11. Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

So many!! Probably too many! (Like always!) - I really want to finish Chocolate Milkshakes and An Open Secret in like the next 30 days! (I promise nothing!) - I really want to dive back into Coming of Age and Invisible Wounds. Like I’m SO excited about where these stories are going! - I want to polish up like four Miraculous Reveals that are each like 80% finished, so I can get some momentum going on this series. - I want to go to the library every week for two hours for writing to maybe have a chance of reaching some of these goals.

And I will tag @tinacentury​, @overworkedunderwhelmed​, @beej88​, @mikauzoran​, @cassraven​, @laadychat​, @bubbleblower​ as an invitation to participate if you want to! Not a requirement! :) You can totally do it if you’re not tagged too! 

[connan-l]

Ciconia Phase 1 Ramblings

Well, it sure was a wild ride, but I enjoyed it quite a bit!

The whole thing was very Heavy and Intense and Long and a lot of stuff happened. I’m not sure I really digested everything yet, but I have Thoughts.

GOD I spent so much time writing all of this... At first I just wanted to make a short Twitter thread about it, but it ended up a lot longer than initially... 😔

Those are just some messy ramblings and I don't think I said any more new or interesting stuff than what other people have already said, but I still felt the need to write it down, so...

Ciconia spoilers for Phase 1 and the tips:

So I thought overall it was pretty good and interesting! As someone who didn’t play the demos, I went in completely blind, and it was a nice read. (As such the flood of Okonogi memes some time ago were kinda confusing to me at first lol.)

It was radically different from Higurashi and Umineko, but that was something I expected (Umineko was radically different from Higurashi, after all.)

I’m not sure if it’s going to hit me as personally as Higurashi and Umineko did yet, or even if I’m going to like it as much — I enjoyed Phase 1, and the story is really intriguing, but it’s not quite on the level of its predecessors for now. Then again, it is only the first part of the story so it’s a bit unfair to compare them now, and I remember I was far from being into Higu and Umi by just their first installments too. So I guess I’ll just have to wait for the other phases and see!

On a technical level, this is definitely ones of Ryukishi’s most sophisticated visual novels — with the big animations and sound effects during the battle scenes, of course, but also with the numbers of different backgrounds and the visuals for the Kizuna thing. The sprites are also my favorites from all of Ryu’s games, they have the uniqueness of his artstyle all while being more polished and with really pretty coloring. And the character designs are SUPER GOOD — the best of 07th Expansion works to me (well, I was still a bit disappointed in Vier’s design, though. I mean. She’s just Takano with a lab coat. You could’ve at least changed her clothes or something, Ryu.) The music was the only thing that was... pretty average. It wasn’t bad, there was a lot of neat OST in it... but there wasn’t really anything memorable either (Alright, except for Apocalypsis Ciconia II. This one was dope as hell and it gave me chills.)

I was pleasantly surprised by how good and compelling the worldbuilding was too, as personally I find this peculiar part of Ryukishi’s writing has always been one of his weakest points. I don’t know much about sci-fi stuff admittedly, so I’m not sure how that would be perceived by fans of the genre, but Ciconia’s world is still quite fascinating — the different factions, the technology and selcom stuff, the way childbirth is managed or the history of World War III, all of that was good. Although to be honest, some stuff felt kinda contrived too (like, sure, let’s say the entire history of WWIII is entirely erased, like that we don’t have to deal with the political issues of our current real world lmao), and I don’t know all of the histories of the countries mentioned, so I can’t really tell if some things were insensitive (for example, how Africa was “unified” by a single king felt a bit off to me, but, er... I don’t know...)

The more absurd elements like the conspiracy theories, the chivalric orders or the freaking ILLUMINATI KINGS were pretty hilarious, honestly. I’m... not sure what to make of them. Obviously none of Ryu’s stories were ever going to be realistic (and well, the entire premise of Ciconia is about children soldiers who have the strength of an entire army in one gauntlet, which is ridiculous enough), but knowing him I wonder how much of this is going to be played straight and how much of this is meta stuff. Especially with all the religious/spiritual references (the blue bodies of Evil Miyao and of the gauntlet girls alluding to the Hindu god Shiva, Seshat being a Egyptian goddess, etc.)

I have more mixed feelings about the plot, and especially the pacing. Most of it was okay, but some scenes were really dragging and redundant. Which, isn’t really something new with Ryukishi’s writing, but here especially with the political stuff and the long blocks of exposition it was... kinda boring and hard to focus on it, and after a while it even felt quite egregious. Some of those parts weren’t needed, or at least didn’t need to be that long. Especially given that after the first hours, there were not a lot of more peaceful moments that would give the player time to breath. 

Which is another one of my complaints: a lot of intense things happened, but the narrative rarely give you the time to actually digest those things, especially in the second part of the story. It often pretty much felt like “X event happen > Discussion of X event between the characters > Y event happen > Discussion of Y event between the characters,” and this without any breaks (with the exception of some exposition here and there in between, of course). The events, discussions and characters were interesting enough to more or less keep my attention, but it still felt like too much at times. Part of this may be volunteer, as it put a stressful and opressive feeling on the reader (God, the clock and quotes between each chapters stressed me out a lot lol), and after a while I really felt like I was kinda suffocating with all of this like the characters — but even so I think it would’ve been better to give us some pauses here and there. Which is something we could have had with, say, the tips. I thought it was a shame all of the sixteen tips could only be read once the main story was over, because the narrative could have really benefited from having them fit into the plot or in-between chapters, like in Higurashi.

Also, I know Ciconia wasn’t exactly marketed as an horror story unlike the other WTCs, but hoo boy, I think some of the sequences in it are honestly among the most gory and disturbing things Ryukishi wrote? I haven’t read Iwaihime or TRianThology, so I can’t really say for sure, but damn, those human factories really are big nightmare fuels...

Now, I think the most tricky parts and the ones who are gonna get the most criticisms are, likely, the whole political and military stuff. Ciconia is probably Ryukishi’s most political and provocative work so far, maybe on par with Rose Guns Days — not to say Higurashi and Umineko are not political, they definitely are, but here it truly is in-your-face. Which is not a bad thing, per se, but... let’s say it all depends on how Ryukishi handle and criticize all those stuff down the line in the other installments, when so far it’s been... meh?

Like, the whole military stuff, specifically, was... shaky, at best. The thing with fiction that portray militaries with soldiers as their main characters is that they walk a thin line between just portraying this thing and actively glamorizing it. The narrative was definitely critical of some of it (lol the whole massacre at the end was very obviously there for a reason), and I appreciate Ryukishi often makes a point in his stories to frame a problem with different persepectives... but the whole “healthy military balance” and “Walls of Peace” thing was still iffy, and I’m... unsure about how much of it is going to be criticized within the narrative in the end. Now, again, it is just the beginning of the story, and Ryukishi has always been good at presenting a thing at the start for later on tearing it down to pieces, so... I don’t know.

It’s way too early to decide what kind of themes and messages Ciconia is going to have, so here too I guess we’ll have to wait and see, but I’m just a bit wary given some things that were in RGD were... definitely questionable. Now I actually think Ciconia got to a better start than RGD, but... well. I’m also not really someone who know much about these stuff, so I’m not the best placed to talk about it, but it’s definitely something worth to be under scrutiny.

On the more positive side, there were times where some things felt really, really real, as well as pretty in tone with some of today’s social issues. Like all those news about the terrible things going on in the world and that a war can happen anytime, the military propaganda to recruit young people who “want to fly” in the army but who just end up killing each other, or the feeling that these kids have about how in the end they’re just powerless pawns  who can’t do anything used by selfish old men... I saw someone said Ciconia was basically Fuck Boomers: The Game, and... yeah. Yeah, that’s basicaly it lmao. All of the adults being assholes is not new in WTC or even in Ryukishi’s works in general, but here it was definitely a big theme. God even the whole thing at the end about how the planet is dying and that everyone knows it but people just don’t care about it... lmao, if that wasn’t directly referring what we’re living right now with climate change, I don’t know what is.

I just really loved too the way the game was sort of sold as this “cool sci-fi battle royal,” but in the actual story all of those kids are desperately trying to not kill each other, until the very end where everything just goes to hell.

I said it before, but there really was a huge feeling of suffocating and being powerless the more and more you reach towards the end, and the way everything culminated in this huge massacre truly sent shivers in my back. I know at some points I could really feel for the kids who were like “Well, fuck it, let’s just let all those awful people kill each other and the world get destroyed.” The final scene with the Christmas party was really powerful and also so uncomfortable to read, it was really well done.

Otherwise, if there was one work I wasn’t expecting to scream “LGBT+ rights,” it was Ciconia, but here we are I guess lmao. Honestly, that entire conversation was super neat, not just in a “Oh it’s great they acknowledge gay and trans people exist in a positive way,” but also because it really adds a lot to the worldbuilding. I remember some people talking about it when a similar thing happened in the comics of The Legend of Korra, and honestly more stories should do that, not just in term of representation but because, well, it’s just good writing to put this much thought in your fictional world. The conversation in itself was a bit clumsy (GAYS DON’T FUCK), but it also felt very sincere and a pretty believable discussion a bunch of teenagers with very different backgrounds could have on the subject (and I really loved the narrative acknowledge how different cultures and religions feel about those topics, without it being judgemental.) I’m also thankful it was here at all because of the, uh, gay jokes made about Miyao and Jayden early on that were a bit tasteless to me.

(Now it would be even more great if we could have actual canon gay and trans characters too. Ryukishi... please...... I beg you........)

And of course, the characters were also really good! 

It was so nice to have such a big diverse cast all constituted of likeable characters, and I was honestly impressed Ryukishi managed to handle it. That was something I was wary of when the game was first released, but in the end I think he did a good job so far. Of course, that’s only from my point of view, so I can’t say if other people found there were some things he did badly or that was offensive...

But personally, I honestly love all of the Gauntlets kids so much. They’re all so good and charming! And I kinda want to adopt them all lol.

I think my favorites for now are Miyao, Gunhild, Naima, Rethabile, Chloe, Koshka, Rukhshana, and Lingji... But like I said, they are all really good it’s hard to choose!

However... when it comes to their writing I felt Ciconia went in the continuity of Rose Guns Days and concentrated more on the plot than the characters, and that’s something that... honestly bother me a bit. I liked RGD, but Ryukishi’s writing is still at its strongest when it comes to very human, character-driven narratives, like Umineko and Higurashi. Like I said, I love all of these kids a lot, and some of them have pretty solid characterization and screentime... but in the end a part of me still feel like we didn’t really... get to know them much, if that makes sense? Even with the main ones, like Miyao, Jayden or Gunhild — most of their scenes were principally focused on the Plot Stuff, and not much about them as people.

I know there are a lot of folks who criticize the slice-of-life parts of Higurashi and Umineko, where there are lots of scenes of just the characters spending time with each other or goofing around and that don’t do much to advance the plot — and in a way I understand that, because yeah, some of these scenes can be pretty long to get through and drag the pacing. But personally, I always thought those sequences are very important. Even if some of them are admittedly unnecessary or are a bit too long, they’re really needed to humanize the characters and make you invest in them  — which was something that was a bit lacking in Ciconia. Basically I guess I’m saying the VN needed more slice-of-life stuff, and that rejoin with what I said earlier — that including some of the tips in the plot here and there instead of putting all of them at the end would have really helped with that.

Now, that said, again I’m aware this is just the first part of the story. I understand Ryukishi needed to have all of those exposition blocks and truly pose the basics of his story first and foremost. So I’m really hoping that after that he’ll be able to focus more on its characters  — especially on those who got almost no screentime, like the Yeladot Shavit and Cairo Squad girls. Having characters and human grounded moments is especially important in a story where war is a big focus like Ciconia.

Now, on the characters themselves... 

Miyao was a really charming protagonist, and I love him a lot! He was so endearing to me during the whole story. He was instantly more likeable as a male protagonist than Keiichi and Battler, where it took me some time for them to grow on me — principally because, well, Miyao don’t have the shtick of sexually harrassing the female characters around him, which was profoundly annoying in the other WTCs. I loved his serious but caring and friendly personality, his friendship with Jayden and Gunhild and with all the other kids, and his anger against the adults trying to use him and the others. His relationship with his father too was interesting. His interactions with Evil Miyao were also pretty intriguing, even if I’m not sure yet what to think of him being a “murder program” or about what even is Evil Miyao. 

Now, the only thing I am on the fence about him is... his whole DID thing and Meow. Like, on one hand, I think it is neat to have a likeable protagonist with a named mental illness, and the narrative felt sincere on not wanting to present this as a bad thing and just a part of who Miyao is... but on the other hand, there were all the jokes made as a result of this, which made the whole thing pretty awkward to me. Furthermore, there’s the problem that this “CPP” thing is not really DID, as if I recall it doesn’t actually seem to come from any trauma-related reason, and is almost a made-up condition? It kinda gave me Kara no Kyoukai flashbacks, in which Shiki, the protagonist, also has an alter, but it is not as a result of trauma or anything — it has a fantasy explanation. And, I mean... An author taking an actual, real condition that a lot of people have to bend it at their will to fit a story isn’t super cool, especially if you’re going to make some jokes at its expense... The other kids calling out Jayden on how he didn’t act properly with Miyao about this was nice though. (Also, now that I think about it, did Miyao just... randomly told all of the other gauntlet knights about it? Wasn’t it said that “CPPs” were something most people didn’t like to talk about? It’s a bit odd.) Plus there’s also the fact Miyao is possibly a “program” and it adds another layer of not-so-great stuff... So I’m just really wary of how Ryukishi is gonna handle this going forward...

Those problems aside, Meow herself was... fine. She’s cute, but she doesn’t really have much going on for her. She and Jayden are dorks together and their scenes definitely made me smile, but their relationship still felt kinda shallow so I don’t have much feelings about them as a couple (like, it’s just that to me Miyao and Jayden have a lot more chemistry and have been friends for quite some time, so it’s just odd that he instantly decides to date Miyao’s sister whom he just met. And, also, he was definitely flirting with Miyao before meeting Meow, too.). It was also pretty jarring the way she just... almost disappears once the war stuff began, so in the end I had this disagreeable impression that she really was just here to be Jayden’s girlfriend, and not as a character on her own or to develop Miyao more...

Jayden was pretty neat too! He’s a character that could be “yikes” pretty easily, but in the end he really did come across as a awkward but kind teenage boy who may be clumsy at times but is still trying his best. In fact, I really wish Ryukishi had wrote Keiichi and Battler more like Jayden. It was nice in general that none of the guys in Ciconia acted inappropriately towards the girls (with the exception of Toujirou, I guess. The way he acted towards Valentina especially made me go “ehh dude please no.” Like I know the LATO girls are said to be older than the other kids so they’re probably 18 or something, but still, it was a bit ugh... But even then it wasn’t something that was too overt, so it didn’t bother me too much), because some of Keiichi and Battler’s antics towards the female characters was something that annoyed me greatly. Don’t get me wrong, I did end up liking Keiichi and Battler despite this, they’re both good kids at heart — but it’s possible to write horny teenage boys without them ~comically~ sexually harassing the girls around them, if you feel me? Aside from that, I like that the story made a point to show that Jayden is actually a pretty lonely and kinda socially awkward kid just like Miyao, and that’s why their friendship work so well. On the other hand, though, his character mostly only turned around Miyao and Meow, and so we didn’t get much of him as a person? Which is a bit disappointing as he is meant to be one of the main kids, so I’ll hope he’ll get more interesting later on.

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE GUNHILD, she really intrigue me! I wasn’t expecting to love her so much — for the most part I thought she was okay but nothing more... though now that I finished the story, she’s probably my favorite character for now? Her scene in the restaurant with her sibling, and especially the tips focused on her, really got to me. I loved her cool personality and her backstory was really interesting, as well as her relationship with Miyao and Jayden. She seems to honestly like and care for both of them, but at the same time resent them, and the way she obviously have a lot of pent-up anger towards the world and some self-hatred make her a truly compelling character. I’m pretty intrigued by Maya and her relationship with her too. She’s honestly one of the characters towards who I look forward the most, and I really hope Ryukishi will deliver on her. 

Chloe has definitely a lot of Rena Vibes, so of course I was going to love her lol. Although honestly for now I find her mostly... confusing. She’s obviously really fucked up (CHLOEVIL), and she made me pretty nervous during the entire story because there was this “Okay so when is she going to snap?” kind of tension with her. And her last scene with Lilja gave me chills... At the same time, her kindness and caring nature as well as her friendship with Koshka, Lilja and the  others felt genuine, so it was an interesting contrast. Other than that I wasn’t a fan of the running gag of Okonogi hitting her whenever she mess up (or do not mess up, for that matter)... Like obviously Okonogi is meant to be a Bastard, but the thing being presented as comical made me go :/ I really wish it’s going to stop.

Koshka was cute and also Extremely Relatable in a lot of ways (I, too, would rather spend my time playing silly games on my phone rather than socialize lmao). I love her a lot, and like Gunhild she really fascinate me. I like the fact that she’s meant to be an asocial, cold person but that at the same time it’s pretty easy to see glimpses of the affection she has for Lilja, Chloe or Miyao, and how she’s actually a deeply traumatized and angry teen. I’m pretty intrigued by what kind of “crime” she must have committed and how she ended up being an “equipment”... Not sure what to think about her super brain or the thing about her being some sort of “chosen one” lol. It sounds really shady.

For Lilja, I have to say I wasn’t exactly fond of her at first, but then the small moments we got with her where she obviously care a lot about Koshka and Chloe still got to me. That scene in the tips where she fiercely defends Chloe made me go “awww.” She really give me the impression of being the sort of person to hide her vulnerability behind a tough façade and her odd tics, and in that way she’s pretty similar to Koshka, which is how their friendship feel really special. The revealation at the end that she’s probably faking a lot of her personality and of her friendship with Koshka because it’s an assigment made her and her relationship with Koshka a lot more interesting to me, and I hope it’s going to result in a lot of compelling character stuffs.

Lingji was great! She’s pretty cool. I liked her optimism  and her will to do the right thing, and how that actually cover the fact she’s a pretty fragile and sheltered person. Her scene where she break down after her grandfather’s death is really illustrative of this especially, and where I really felt for her too. I think she’s the most interesting character in term of possible development. I quite enjoyed her friendship with Miyao too, but here again I wish these two had gotten more moments together. Like, how much more impactful the scene where Miyao kill her would have been if we had actually seen these two have some intimate moments before? But, oh well...

Aysha was really cool too, and I especially loved the way her sharp and down-to-earth personality contrast to Lingji’s idealism. The moment where she calls out both of her teammates was super good. Momotake was okay, and I love his intense admiration for Lingji (I’m a sucker for male characters really looking up to cool female characters lol)... but otherwise I felt he was honestly the most stereotypical character of the bunch — especially compared to Lingji and Aysha.

NAIMA IS THE BEST, SHE’S MY BABY I LOVE HER SO MUCH. She was my favorite before I even start the game because of her design alone (SHE’S THE CUTEST CHARACTER RYU EVER DESIGNED OKAY), and I wasn’t disappointed from seeing her actual personality. She’s not especially complex or anything for now, but she has a lot of potential. I loved her relationship with Naomi and Stan too — it kinda felt like two older siblings looking after their annoying youngest one reluctantly, but who still have a lot of affection for them. Also she’s such a little badass, I literally cheered out loud during that rescue scene or during the last battle scene where she screams she wants to protect all of her people. I want more of her in Phase 2 pleaaaase!

Naomi was really overshadowed by Naima and Stan, so as a result I don’t have much to say about her. I think she’s cool, and her backstory about how she apparently lost a lot of her memories and emotions is interesting, but again I can’t say much given we barely see her at all. Stanisław was a good boy, but despite the fact we see him a lot during the story, I... don’t really have a lot of thoughts on him? I liked his implied friendship with Gunhild as them being death metal buddies, but we didn’t actually saw them interacting at all, which was a shame.

Rethabile was the coolest character of the cast, I love her dearly! I like how she can be so adorable and such a dork but at the same time she’s probably the one who has her shit together the most out of all the kids. I feel she really has a good grip on politics and how the adults just want to use them compared to the others — which, well, isn’t all that surprising given she’s literally a princess. The scene with her brother’s death was pretty harsh, and I’m sad they didn’t really... put much attention to her reaction to such a traumatic event. I know the plot hadn’t time for that, really, but I feel even Lingji got more focus when her grandfather died, so I wish we had more of that with Rethabile too.

Ishak and Abdou... well, they didn’t really get much time for them either. They seem like nice dudes, and I really love their relationship with Rethabile, how they tease her quite a bit but there’s still obviously a lot of complicity and respect among them. So I hope we’ll get to know them more, especially on an individual level — as for now they were only present as a duo.

The LATO girls were... interesting too. I especially love Valentina, because she really give me Bad Bitch vibes and I love bitchy female characters lol. It’s pretty clear she has some Secrets and I’m really curious about her goals. As for Maricarmen, I thought she was mostly going to be comic relief like the Yeladot Shavit, but towards the end she actually showed some interesting depth so she did grew on me quite a bit.

And then there was just the teams no-screentime lol. Alright, I guess Suparṇa did get some time, and Rukhi is ones of my faves, but they still were really sidelined. I liked Sujatha, she’s such an uptight idiot, and her scene towards the end where she says she was aware that Miyao’s plan was doomed but still played along for Lingji made me kinda emotional. Rukhshana is the cutest and the greatest — I really liked her personality, how she can be extremely shy but then also completely goof around when she actually trust the people around her. And that moment at the end where she just say to her superiors to fuck off was glorious and one of my favorite scenes. Her relationship with Sujatha and Andry is adorable too. Andry himself was also... not present at all, but I really love the small glimpses of him we have seen, he’s pretty cool. I like how he sincerely seems to care a lot about his teammates despite his aloof character (him protecting Rukhi when their superiors try to hit her at the end was sweet.)

Still, Suparṇa wasn’t sidelined as much as Yeladot Shavit and Cairo Squad, though. I mean, I do like those girls — I adore Gannet because she’s cute as hell, Noor seems cool and Mariana intrigue me, but I can’t actually say much about them. Leah, Fatma and Stephania were also mostly comic relief except for one or two scenes towards the end. So I really hope Phase 2 will remedy to this, ‘cause I want more of these six, definitely!

I’m not sure I have a lot of thoughts about the adults characters quite yet — GERMAN TAKANO cracked me up, but she’s just as great as her Higurashi counterpart for now, and I always trust Ryukishi to write good Terrible Women. Especially Terrible Mothers, which is one of my personal weaknesses. Though I guess it’s not actually been confirmed she’s Miyao’s mom? It’s heavily implied, but we all know Ryukishi love to troll his audience so I wouldn’t put it past him that it is in fact just a red herring, but well, we’ll see I guess. 

Toujirou is obviously a bastard, but he’s an interesting one, and I have no fucking idea what is going on in his head. Like it’s interesting that on the one hand he seems to genuinely care about his son, but on the other hand he has no problem manipulating and screwing him over (and the implication of Miyao being maybe just a program is... ooof.) Okonogi was... a bit less worse than in the other WTCs, I guess? He obviously care about the kids in his own way, and him defending them at the end was nice... but I still can’t really feel anything but contempt towards him. He’s still a pretty bad instructor, and like I say, I’m really not a big fan of the way he treats Chloe at all, even if it’s meant to be “comical.”

The Three Kings mostly made me laugh to be honest, and they’re more plot devices than actual characters for now so I really don’t care about them (a part of me even wonder if they “exist” at all, because, you know, meta stuff). I absolutely LOVED Jestress on the other hand! I have no idea what’s the deal with her, whether she’s Lambda or whatever, but she’s really intriguing and her design is top notch and I want more of her. Seshat was so fucking cool and I don’t have much thoughts about her yet other than I wanna marry her.

And that’s pretty much it!

I’m not really good at predictions or at throwing theories around (sorry, Ryukishi), so I’m not sure what to expect for the rest of the story. I guess my only thoughts are that the moles are probably Gunhild and/or Chloe, but then they seem like obvious candidates, so I don’t know. I kinda suspect Valentina too, because, er, I do not trust her at all and she just have that traitor vibe. 

I really hope too that we’ll have time loops here again instead of a linear story because... well... I don’t wanna these kids to die okay... I also know that Ryukishi said Ciconia is only going to have four parts, and that’d make sense given how long Phase 1 was... but a part of me still kinda hope we’ll have a bit more... I guess it’s just that only four phases seems really little compared to the density of the story, and I’m really hoping he’ll have the time to develop well all of his narrative points and characters...

In any case, I think my thoughts on Ciconia for now pretty much get down to: it’s interesting and it has the potential to be a really great story, even if it’s far from being flawless and that I’m still very wary about how Ryukishi is going to handle some elements in the future.

But I’d definitely recommand it to people who love 07th Expansion stuff and sci-fi stories, and am very much looking forward to Phase 2!

[kiraawrites]

2MSS #3: Silken Guilt

Day 3 of the 2 Month Short Stories Challenge w/ @flyingfalconflower12

Word count: 1984

Constructive criticism welcome!

Putting my hands in front of the fire somehow made everything seem better. The night sky had engulfed the village; I could swear that I was the only one still awake. Tomorrow’s the day. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. The next day would be extremely important. My family had forced me to run for the chieftainship trial.  

“Maybe you’ll prove that we aren’t weaklings,” they said. “Maybe we’ll matter to others.”

I looked over the hunting gear that was lying on my lap. This day had been spent nocking arrows and shooting at the targets my father had fashioned for me. In my head, I ran through the motions. A deep breath. Arms out before me, a sturdy grip on the bow’s wooden body. An arrow ready to slice the air. An eye trained on the quivering target. Hunt the most prey and then I can be chief. It’s not that hard. Running a hand through my bushy hair, I walked over to my bed. The stars are beautiful tonight. Hope they grant me luck. Sleep blanketed me in thick darkness.

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

“Gareth! Big day today. How’s my boy doing?” asked my father as I stumbled out of my room. 

“I’m scared, Dad. I am.” 

“Don’t worry about it. Here, have some baked beans. I had to sell the eggs to repair the hole in Ayla’s bedroom yesterday.” 

He pushed the dish of beans across the rickety dining table. It’s the biggest day of my life and I’m having breakfast in a bowl that I can wrap my hands around. My sister was smiling sheepishly at me, her cheeks pink at having her name being mentioned. 

“Ayla, I’ve been hearing that you’re being bullied at school. Is that correct?” 

Her eyes turned a stormy grey as she nodded. Eyebrows creased, she answered, “They’ve been making fun of our house. I told them that I do my homework on the floor and they keep mocking me. ‘Look, Ayla’s worksheet is covered in orange dust because she does it on that ugly floor!’” 

I took her hand in mine and rubbed it. “You need not listen to them. People love picking on others and we’re just unlucky. But I’ll do my best today and make the rest respect us. Believe in me, Ayla.” 

A tear escaped from her eyes and dropped onto my palm. I cradled her head with my right hand and petted her hair. She was a mild sister. Mute when others laughed at her, wringing her hands together as she saw them overturn her chair and look through her school bag for the “poor people pencils”. These are the people I’ll provide for. I took my hands back and started on my breakfast. The beans were cold and mushy in my mouth, making my throat turn clammy. My father was watching us and now sat beside Ayla, putting her head on his shoulder. 

I finished up the last scraps of my breakfast and rinsed the plate with the water in the dishwashing bucket. As I put it on the kitchen rack to dry, I gazed at my family’s small cottage. The roof built with straw was torn in some places, fine in others. I remembered the burning sun that attacked us relentlessly as my father, mother and I were putting up that roof. My mother was heavily pregnant with Ayla then. She would pant and heave continuously but was the hardest worker among us. She never stopped (despite us begging her to do so). 

The spray paint vandalism had not washed itself off over the years. “Gareth’s a coward”, “F*CK THE FRUGS” and “move out of this place” were some of them. I could recall the first one fresh in my head. The school day had ended with the bell clanging, setting us free. I was the first to bolt out of class as there were no friends or parents to wait for; I had none of the former and the latter were wrapped up in farm work. Then came a shout from my back. Someone rammed themselves into my shoulder and spat into my ear. 

I glared at the figure beside me. “Whaddya looking at?” the boy shouted. At least four others were gathered behind him. My pulse in my throat, I sprinted out of there. My shoelaces were trailing in the air as my school bag moved up and down. They were light-footed and kept up with me easily. Trailing me all the way back home, I shut the door on them with the greatest strength I could muster. Sweat ran down my body and mingled with the tears that dotted my shirt. The click of a cap being taken off. The hiss of the spray paint running down the walls.

I shook as the boys painted my house with those red words of shame. Stuttering, I asked them to stop through the locked door. They burst into laughter. “Never erase it, or we’ll come for you again.” My father returned home half an hour after they had left. He glared at the fresh paint and gasped when he saw my bawling figure at the doorstep. Taking me in his arms, he kissed my forehead and told me that everything would be all right.

It was after that day when my father taught me how to fend for myself. We would box in the small patch of land behind our house that was not dotted with crops. I grew familiar with close-quarter hand to hand combat. It was the only thing I was respected for, as I could break apart brawls with ease. But the reality was undeniable: their taunts, now only with words, were still no less painful than before. 

-------------------------------- 

“All young men of Thellinde! Step right up to claim a taste of power and glory!” hollered a burly man behind the registration counter. 

Hordes of other guys from the ages of 18 to 25 were in the buzzing plaza that barely fit them. Each had their bow in hand. Some had it polished, engraved with their name or that of a lover’s. Mine was plain and fashioned from a fallen branch that curved enough to be a bow. I felt tiny. My head barely reached most of the men’s shoulders. Perhaps because I was 18, but it was not much of an excuse. Murmurs trailed me as I worked my way to the desk. 

“Are you really signing up, Gareth Frug? Run home to your farm. I think it’d be better if you never came here instead,” said Anthony Winter, flashing me a sceptical look. “My dad gave me this dagger. Neat, ain’t it?” 

It was more than neat. The handle was engraved with his full name and the silver blade was symmetrical. It glinted threateningly in the morning light. Without thinking, I placed a finger on it. 

“Back off! You dirty rat, I’ll make sure you pay for this,” he roared. Ashamed, I sprang back into the shadows. After signing up, I stayed away from him as much as I could. They gave all of us huge cloth sacks the size of our bodies. 

“Remember the rules. The man with the greatest number of prey hunted is the new chief. As the current chief, I look forward to meeting the new one after these four hours,” he said, puffing his chest out before the crowd. “If you want this silken mask, you shall have to prove yourself.” 

-------------------------------- 

The forest was neither dense nor sparse. Light easily illuminated its depths. I soon caught two rabbits, unaware as I snuck behind them. Those long ears have failed them. The wind seemed to encourage me; the breeze was gentle and whispered with delight. I grinned despite my own struggles, as I slung my catch over my shoulder. Minutes passed slowly as I crept through the forest, ears and eyes alert for any movement. 

It took just about an hour to ruin my mood. Anthony had spotted me and ran over with a smug smile on his face. His catch was heavy and near-bursting. It hung behind him like a trophy; he was an obvious front-runner of the competition. 

“Hey, peasant. Give me your bow.” 

I turned and shook my head, looking at him in confusion. 

“Mine broke. You know you’re not winning, so hand it over.” 

My eyes stung as I strode over, my hands balled up in fists. He raised his eyebrows in amusement as my smaller figure approached him. I spat, “Say that again. I dare you.” 

“You know you’re not winning.” 

“Idiot. I’m never giving this to you.” 

“To your detriment,” he replied. His arms encircled me as he forced me against a thick wooden trunk. My sack fell to the ground and the animal carcasses spilt out. His large palms seized for my throat, but I punched him in the jaw. His head spun as he backed away, drawing out his dagger. I lunged for it. Landing on him, I pushed his arm to the side.

We wrestled for the weapon. Prying it out of those huge hands was no easy feat. Rolling around in the fallen leaves, our limbs flailed about. At last, I grabbed hold of its handle. I was choking on my breath as I swiftly plunged it into his throbbing chest. He gave out, limp, beneath me. His tongue lolled in his mouth as his eyes rolled back. 

No. Did I kill him? Tell me I didn’t. Heck, the punishment for this is an exile. My family! What have I done? Blood rushed through my head as I gathered up his load. Might as well seize the dagger. I could sell it in some faraway marketplace. Just have to hide it. Racing away from the crime scene, I proceeded with my hunt. 

--------------------------------   

The four hours had passed and a cry of the bugle called us back. I tried to dispose of the guilt that had been haunting me but it only took deeper roots in my conscience as I struggled weakly. At the plaza, the other men seemed to have had the time of their lives. They beamed at one another, showing off their catches as a display of prominent masculinity. Names were read off as they counted prey. 

As I pulled up to have my bag — Anthony’s, actually — measured, I shivered. What if they can tell? Their approving nods comforted my aching heart. I returned to my previous position at the outskirts of the crowd, now unburdened by the remnants of the hunt. Except for the dagger. What if I accidentally left it in the sack? At once, I grabbed the pouch slung about my hips to check. It was there. Sighing, I turned my attention to the village chief. The silken white mask gave him the appearance of a ghost with a live body, his muscular arms twitching with excitement. 

“We have totalled the number of prey. A shocking feat, for this, has been the highest in centuries! Of course, there are some hunters still out there — too enraptured to hear our glorious bugle, I suppose,” his voice rang out among the hundreds gathered. “Let us announce our winner!” 

My throat tightened. I clenched the pouch tightly as I gritted my teeth.  

“Gareth Frug! An underdog of our society has proven himself. Come here, new chief!” 

If only they knew.

I stepped up to face the surprised audience, bodies still in their disbelief. The regular speech breezed through my lips. It was difficult not to break down from the crushing weight of wrongdoing. The chief handed over his silken mask to me tenderly. As I faced what was now my people for the first time behind this mask, I wept. 

“I am filled with the greatest joy. I have worked hard for this day. Thank you, thank you for letting me be chief.”

Taglist

@galaxy-charm @rhyseoshaughnessy

Author’s note

I’m so happy that I managed to write this much in a day! I didn’t get to do much else, but I did wake up pretty late so perhaps that’s why.