#the perfect employee of the day portrait

[virgothozul]

I am so doomed

[rboooks]

Can you write a dead on main? Something with a bookstore au please!

Now that I know the ship names, you bet I can! I'll try my best to get through the ones I got requested in the past few days.

Jason liked bookstores.

They were a safe haven for him as a child, even when the fancier ones chased him off when he became a street kid. He adores the various series, the smell of books, and the quiet of stores. Often he thought that they were a small pocket to escape reality.

He had always known he could escape between the pages when everything had been terrible.

Maybe that's what lead him to this store even if it was a bit odd.

It was out of the way by the old docks that Joker used to run, thus making it condemned to the rest of the populace.

An old warehouse turned into a three-story bookstore. The entire first floor was aisles placed in side-way lines with the main counter as its center. The second floor had cozy reading nocks, plush futon couches, pillows, and blankets, complete with a small cafe. The rule was that anyone could take a book off the second-floor walls to read for free.

Employees asked to be informed if any food or damage was done to the second floor since the second book only had one copy of each. The owner would pull one off the bottom floor shelves to replace it.

The final floor had various reading rooms, but Jason loved that each room was based on a book. The room was professionally decorated to the point it left visitors feeling like they actually stepped into the world of the book.

Sculptures, playable settings, phenomenal little details the hard die fans could spot, and even sound systems playing sounds that sounded like the world. Jason could only compare it to Disney World or universal studios. The fact that people could rent the rooms for an hour for only fifteen dollars made them much more popular.

The third-floor rooms- ten in total- would rotate between series after a few months. Hence, the rooms were always different, but inside them were recommended books with the same kind of theme that was always the perfect recommendation, or maybe people just wanted to explore a room of their favorites.

Jason had visited the strange little bookstore with Tim after his brother had gone on a date with Bernard there.

Tim and Barnard had rented the "Hogwarts common rooms" room for three hours. Jason had been amazed by how real the four standard rooms looked, how there were even dragons spitting fire in one corner, moving portraits, a sorting hat ceremony, a small teddy bear decorating corner, and even a wand building second. All for only fifteen dollars. Tim had practically been glowing when he came home with his Ravenclaw bear and his own wand.

And maybe Jason is a huge Harry Potter fan; perhaps it was one of the first things he boned with Tim over, so maybe his brother had taken him to have an experience that he compared to the first time Bruce took him to Universal Studios.

Then he ran into the owner while one of the employees had been helping him pick runes to have burned into his wand.

Jason started to come back for an entirely different reason.

"Hi, Jason!" Elle says when she sees him climbing the stairs toward the third floor. She's the store's co-owner and has gotten to know him on a first-name basis due to how often Jason has visited the store in the past year. If they made a reward points system, Jason knows he be the highest one on the chart.

She's sitting at a table that is decorated like a galaxy. The books for these quarters' room themes are on the table's surface, all with a door key under them and a clipboard for the various hours.

Jason's eyes land on Pride and Prejudice, and his heart leaps.

"Hi, Elle. What's the wait time for door seven?"

She smiles, flipping the clipboard to the time slots. "The Ball at Netherfield Park has a lot of openings today. I got a three, four, six, or seven. When shall I fit thee dance card in milord?"

Jason laughs and checks his phone, ensuring he doesn't need to do anything for a while before saying. "Three will be fine. It's only thirty minutes. I'll go get a coffee while I wait."

She nods, writing his name down for three. She then passes him some disclosure forms he has to sign, forgoes the long-winded explanation of the rules, and sends him on his way, promising to send him a reminder text.

"Just so you know, Ball at Netherfield Park comes with a unique costume option. Five extra dollars to go through our costume section, and you can dress up like Mr. Darcy for a full hour."

Jason shakes his head though it's a very tempting offer. "Thanks, Elle but I'm okay with my street clothes today."

The other shrugs and checks her nails- their asexual theme today, he notes- before nonchalantly commenting. "Too bad. Danny really wanted someone to cosplay with him. Jane Austin's books are less prevalent in Gotham than we thought, and he's been dying to wear his Mr. Bingley outfit. I thought you like to, so I told him to come over when you arrive, but I can text him to cancel-"

"Five dollars, you said? For the full outfit or just like a coat?" Jason ignores her smug expression and quickly places a twenty on the table.

"Full outfit. What do you take us for?"

He glares at her just as the man of the hour himself runs up the stairs. Danny Fenton, founder, and co-owner of Ghost Zone Reads. He's in a light blue Regency period man coat that makes his eyes pop. A pair of white pants that hug his hips and thighs in all the right places, black knee boots, and a black gentle top hat.

Jason's knees go weak at the sight of him.

Danny's face is flush from the run, but his whole face lights up when he sees his sister and her guest. "Jason! I'm so glad you choose the Ball at Netherfield Park experience. I can't wait for our dance."

"Dance?" Jason chocks. Elle chuckles.

"You can't experience a Ball at Netherfield without the ball part dingus." She waves a hand at her brother. "Told him Dick canceled on you, so he offered to step in."

Jason never even mentions Dick to her but he's not about to call her out on her lie. She's doing him such a big favor.

"I always wanted to go to a Jane Austin ball!" He says instead, mentally wincing at how lame he sounds. Thankfully Danny's eyes only light up even more as the other man starts explaining the instructional videos installed in the ballroom mirrors so they can learn the real moves of Contra Dancing.

Jason falls just a tad bit more.

(Elle watches with a fond smile as Jason and Danny get lost in Austin's most significant works. She quickly texts her allies in Wayne Manor under the table. This is a big step in the "Make us in-laws" operation; the Fenton and Wayne children started a few months back. They were all tired of watching Danny and Jason dance around each other. Damian's idea to use Jason's favorite author was working fabulously.)

[bitter69uk]

In Memoriam: pioneering scene-maker of early UK punk, a muse to Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren as well as filmmaker Derek Jarman, and the original one-woman Sex Pistol Jordan (née Pamela Rooke, 23 June 1955 - 3 April 2022) died on this day two years ago. If the 1970s London punk subculture had an “It girl”, it was Jordan. Her confrontational sense of style and intimidating demeanour made Jordan a natural employee selling kinky latex bondage wear at Westwood and McLaren’s outré SEX boutique on London’s King Road in 1975. As Jon Savage recalls in his definitive 1991 punk history England’s Dreaming, it was a perfect fit. “(Jordan) was a living advertisement for the new shop, having turned her own body into an art object.” I treasure my sole fleeting encounter with her in 2012 at the book launch party for Punk’s Dead by Simon Barker. Jordan was holding court, surrounded by admirers, in front of one of Barker’s portraits of her. I approached and she graciously autographed a postcard for me. To do it, Jordan turned me around and wrote it against my back, gripping my shoulder with her free hand – which melted my punk heart! Jordan was truly a woman and a half. Fun fact: a besotted John Waters admitted he used to keep a photo of Jordan pinned to the bulletin board above his writing desk for inspiration. 

[iforimaginary]

I’m not entirely sure how large the market for Jonelias fanfiction is at the moment- however I am working on a few brisk one shots soon to be posted on Ao3. I’m fairly new to Tumblr but I thought I’d post a brief snippet of my work in case it manages to reach a wider audience!!

Extract Title: Bleed Magic

Extract Type: Trailer

Extract Length: 637W

Extract Status: Complete

Extract Warnings: Suggestive Undertones

The shabby door of Jon’s office (if the poorly refurbished remnants of Gertrude’s leftover furniture could even be considered anything remotely adjacent to an ‘office’) opened suddenly.

Suddenly- but not at all harshly… if anything, it was handled with a surprising amount of care compared to what The Archivist was acclimated to. It wasn’t Martin’s joyful barging in with a cup of tea or Tim’s reckless intrusion with misfiled statements. It was novel and for some nameless reason, mildly frightening.

“Elias.” Jon eventually stated after a few painfully awkward moments of silence, with a barely present note of surprise carrying itself weakly through his voice. The acknowledgment could hardly be termed a greeting. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he followed up, sarcasm palatable in his tone. Jon reflexively began scolding himself for his lack of professionalism but as he lowered the recorder placing it on the chipped wooden desk, he realised he couldn’t find it within himself to genuinely care.

The older man leaned against a filing cabinet with a positively filthy smirk as his piercing eyes scanned Jon’s frame. To the untrained observer his expression would perhaps signify civility, charm and refinement but The Archivist knew that look all too well as to be so naive to assume it boded anything other than trouble. It made him feel bare, splayed naked before something he couldn’t even hope to challenge. Returning the favour, he let his own gaze loose, drinking in the portrait before him.

Elias rarely looked anything short of picture perfect.

His cotton shirts were always starched and ironed to the standards of 60s business fashion magazines, his trousers were always sharply creased in parallel by the undoubtedly skilled hands of dry cleaning clerks, his embezzled tie clip never needed any adjusting, his ever-so-slightly heeled Oxfords never needed any polishing and his gracefully greying style never needed re-touching at any point in the day. He looked entirely too expensive to be standing amongst the filth of Jon’s office, he looked entirely too expensive for Jon to be able to afford.

However The Archivist would be lying if he tried to convince himself he didn’t find his superior attractive, if only to a minute degree. He did however dare to advise himself it was simply because extreme care for hygiene and aesthetics quite often equated to physical attraction in most.

“Simply paying visits to my employees.” Elias finally broke the stalling silence, seemingly deciding he was done undressing the exhausted man before him with his eyes, his voice smooth and not too unlike a well made roast drank on a gloomy Sunday morning.

Jon had the curtsy to turn his dingy office chair away from the confines of his desk, now fully facing his tailored employer.

This was redundant.

If there ever was a living manifestation of ‘Time is Money’ that creature would be positioned right before him. Elias Bouchard didn’t stall, he didn’t waste his breath on frilly dialogue decorations, he pounced straight to the point and made his wishes abundantly clear… if he wasn’t out for amusement that would breach far beyond appropriate for a boss and subordinate relationship, that is.

Jon saw straight through his veiled bullshit, of course he did, and he was pretty sure Elias saw through his own bullshit too. The Archivist leaned back and with one swift move got rid of his glasses, placing them gingerly on the desk’s surface, folded.

“Don’t pretend to be coy, it suits you terribly…” he spat.

[leiawritesstories]

Prompt idea!

Rowaelin is already married and Rowan comes home one day to see her crying bc they just got their wedding pics back. Rowan sees them and notices he's like, visibly crying in all of them (puffy red eyes) and assumes aelin is crying bc she's upset the pics are ruined so he's all apologetic etc but she just is crying bc it's such a strong reminder of how much he loves her and she loves the pictures so much.

well now I'M the one crying. here, have a quick lil drabble :D

word count: ~800

warnings: absolutely none

enjoy!!

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

Ever since their wedding seven weeks ago, Rowan and Aelin had grown used to coming home to find each other working on dinner or taking a nap on the couch, since both of them worked exhausting jobs. Rowan worked in product design at a tech company and was forever having meetings with his design team, the engineers, and his company's horrid boss, Maeve, who did her absolute best to claim all the credit for her employees' work. Aelin was a junior lawyer at a large firm, and she was often the one to bear the load of compiling briefs that the senior partners passed down to the younger ones.

Often, Rowan would come home to find his wife stretched out on the couch with a barely-touched glass of wine, her having only been able to take a few sips before sleep claimed her.

Just as often, Aelin came home to find Rowan sprawled facedown on their bed, sometimes even still wearing his shoes.

Soon enough, one would wake the other up with soft kisses and the occasional teasing touch to coax the sleeping one into wakefulness with the promise of dinner. And dessert.

As newlyweds do.

That night, Rowan pushed open the door heavily, the string of foul oaths he needed to direct at Maeve slipping out as soon as the door was locked behind him. He kicked off his shoes and dropped his laptop bag on the low shelf behind the front door, undoing the top few buttons of his dress shirt as he headed for the kitchen. Gods, he needed a drink.

He was halfway through putting the whiskey back in the cabinet, glass in his hand, when he heard Aelin's unmistakable sniffle.

"Fireheart?" His brows creased as he rounded the corner into the living room, immediately concerned. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," Aelin murmured, her gaze directed down into her lap.

Rowan glanced down to see her iPad in her lap, their wedding portraits up on the screen. "We got our portraits back?"

"Yeah." She glanced up, flashing him a soft, bright smile. "We have our wedding photos, Ro."

"Let me see?"

She patted the cushion at her side. "Sit down, love."

He settled in next to her, placing his drink on the side table and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into his side, propping up the iPad and swiping slowly through the images.

Aelin couldn't keep her tears at bay as she swiped through the photos--gods, she still cried thinking of how perfect and beautiful and wonderful and perfect the day had been. Every little thing from the gorgeously decorated venue to her dream dress to the man standing at the end of the aisle had been complete perfection, and she couldn't keep from being emotional when she woke up every day to the remembrance that Rowan was her forever.

As if her thoughts summoned his touch, his thumb brushed against her cheek, wiping away the stray tears. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she sniffled. "Just...gods, Ro, look at us."

He gazed down at the portrait on the screen, the two of them half-facing each other, eyes locked, Aelin beaming up at him with one hand on his chest. The emerald wedding ring on her hand sparkled in the light, almost but not quite matching the brilliance of her smile. He beamed back down at her, arms looped around her waist, the joy on his face only enhanced by the slight redness around his eyes.

Wait.

Shit.

That was probably why she was crying.

"Gods, Fireheart, I'm so sorry," Rowan groaned, wishing he could just slap himself.

It was her turn to throw a quizzical look. "What? Why?"

He pointed to his swollen eyes. "Hell, I ruined all our wedding portraits with my stupid emotions and gods, I feel so bad for not having had more self-control and--"

"Rowan." Aelin placed her fingertips over his lips, stopping his rambling apology. "Buzzard, you didn't ruin anything."

"But I'm crying in our wedding photos?"

She chuckled softly. "Ro, my love, I promise you didn't ruin anything." She slid her free hand into his, tracing the lines of his tattoo on his skin. "I promise."

He didn't look entirely convinced. "We're going to display these photos forever, Fireheart..."

"And your emotions only make it all the more evident how much you love me."

Well, that little statement momentarily stopped him in his tracks.

"Aelin," he whispered, throat tightening. "Really?"

Setting aside the iPad, she cupped her hands around his face, smiling softly. "Yes really, my buzzard. I love you so much."

"I love you more, my Fireheart." Gods, but he was crying--again--as he kissed her.

She grinned against his lips. "You're an old sap, love."

He wouldn't even dream of denying it.

~~~

TAGS:

@charlizeed

@cretaceous-therapod

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@nerdperson524

@fireheartwhitethorn4ever

@morganofthewildfire

@rowanaelinn

@wesupremeginger

@stardelia

@shanias-world

@mybloodrunsblue

@swankii-art-teacher

@wordsafterhours

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@violet-mermaid7

@holdthefrickup

@goddess-aelin

@rowaelinismyotp

@dealfea

@irondork

@elentiyawhitethorn

@live-the-fangirl-life

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@chronicchthonic14

@lovely-dove-zee

@sweet-but-stormy

@hanging-from-a-cliff

@jorjy-jo

@rowaelinrambling

@thegreyj

@silentquartz

@backtobl4ck

@throneofus7

@elizarikaallen

@llyncooljones

@booknerdproblems

@julemmaes

@earthtolinds

[artbymaranda]

Doggust 2023 -Day: 6 -Breed: Great Dane -Name: Corduroy -Story: Corduroy lives on an estate with his best friend Argyle. They get lavish toys, treats, beds and are cared for around the clock by their owner's employees. While Corduroy enjoys it, Argyle thinks this paradise is too good to be true. Argyle suspects their owner of criminal activity and wants to find the truth. Corduroy just wants Argyle to be happy, so he goes along and tries to find clues to help ease Argyle's suspicions. (Dog espionage anyone?)

This year for Doggust I am making one dog character a day (or reviving an old character) from the official Doggust prompts. Dogs have always been one of my biggest inspirations. From the vastness of the breeds, the expressive features and their amazing antics, they are the perfect subject to draw as a cartoon! Pet portrait commissions are open!

[mindcrowned]

ryan. • bodyclaim. • headcanons. • isms. • threads.

BASIC INFO

full name — Ryan Estrada(-Takashi) age — forty-four (january 19th) gender — cis male, (he/ him/ his pronouns) orientation — homosexual former occupation — teacher super power — power mimicry (lowkey rogue-like..ish) hero name — hoshii  weapon — dual long scimitars katanas clothing style/ uniform — casual, fitting, nerdy / dark modern-y

PHYSICAL INFO

face claim — Pedro Pascal hair — brown / eyes — brown height — five foot & eleven inches build — kinda like a T, broad shoulders, muscled torso, slutty waist (it be thin ok), tho he has decently thick thighs, too but not insanely so scars — a few, but the only prominent ones are long strides across the backs of his thighs tattoos — he has a portrait of his (deceased) daughter & husband on his chest, right above his heart piercings — nipple piercings oops special characteristics — he’s broken and angry at the world, which translates into silence & bitterness

PERSONALITY

alignment — true chaotic neutral positive traits — protective, loyal, strong-willed, caring negative traits — bitter, short-tempered, stubborn hobbies — kenjutsu, cooking, avoiding people, spreading bitterness

MEDICAL INFO

mental — ptsd (watched his husband and child die), negative attitude physical — when he was younger, he got his shoulder dislocated and one of his older sisters thought she could pop it back in. she didn't and broke his shoulder. he can't life his right arm as high as the left one still, but only few know phobias — claustrophobia, haphephobia eyesight — wears glasses / contacts dominant hand — left hand drug use — nop alcohol use — occasionally diet — lived as a vegetarian because of his husband, but when he died.. he went back to a normal semi-healthy diet

SEXUAL

kinks — tba anti-kinks — tba sexual preference — bottom switch

BACKGROUND

birthplace — houston, TX (born) parents — (biological parents unknown) / Maria Estrada-Takashi (step-mother) & Asahi Estrada-Takashi (step-father)  siblings — 2 older sisters who were also adopted by the Estradas; Amelie & Sorayja Estrada-Takashi education — education degree (to work as a teacher) notable skills — he grew up with a lot of japanese traditions/culture including tea ceremonies, calligraphy and the art of kenjutsu

BIO

(child abuse mention, murder mention, child death mention)

on a cold january morning in a small town not too far from houston, a young policeman named ryan mccormick found a little bundle of linen on the steps on his way to work. due to being a heavy smoker, the young deputy-in-training tended to enter the station through the back door & therefore the little boy wrapped abandoned the night prior was saved from spending more hours in the cold. thankfully. mccormick took the newborn to the hospital as swiftly as the old police car would allow, but thankfully houston had been blessed with somewhat decent temperatures, so the newborn would be okay. they said. 

that was the first & last time ryan would ever see his savior, but not the last time he’d be reminded of his existence. the nice employees from the foster care office contacted by social services picked him up after a weekend at the hospital and he was named after his savior. little king. he was thought to take over the world in a quick stride, because as a newborn babe his little smile enchanted everybody who was blessed enough to be present for it. 

the first family that contacted adoption services to meet little ryan would take him home with them, but only for a few months. he was brought back with the explanation that something had to be wrong with the child, because he never cried, he never screamed, he never even cooed. clearly, a well-behaved little boy couldn’t be normal, they thought. as a six month old little boy already rejected by one stats-wise perfect couple, his chances for an early adoption decreased rapidly with every passing day, especially because most couples were looking for younger children. babies. ryan, unfortunately, was running out of time only a few months after he was born. 

when he passed the twelve-month mark, he was taken over by another foster care office - one that handled children, not newborns. his photo was sent to every couple looking to take care of a child, though unfortunately for him, the only interest was shown by an old couple eager to temporarily give foster care children a loving home. they weren’t looking for long-term responsibilities. a few months outside the sterile rooms of the facility would do him well, they thought. 

elise & archibald johnson could be described as the most stereotypical sixty-plus year old farm-owner couple america had to offer. flags decorated not only the front of the house, but the back, too & little ryry would spend the next eight months with them. longer than anticipated by pretty much everybody & maybe they would’ve actually kept him longer, but archibald’s health began to deteriorate suddenly, so they could no longer look after the little boy. 

cue, another few months with only sparse human interaction & yet, with a roof over his head & food a regular occurrence, some would say ryan was lucky. he was three years old when the next family decided to give him a chance. lucy & thomas jackson. houston simply has too many children in the social service system to ensure a stable & proper development for each & every single one, so ryan .. wasn’t quite as vocal as he should be, but the jacksons were patient & gentle - if firm in their approach with him, so the little boy soon developed an almost chatty attitude. 

until this day, nobody knows why the jacksons returned a four-and-a-half year old toddler, but they did. by then, ryan had reached that age of he’s not longer utterly adorable & actual work, which was the reason he spent another year on the waiting list & at this point in time.. ryan began to understand what happened around him & of course one would wonder why other kids came & went, but not you. although that took another year to develop. almost six years old, ryan was once again sent to live with a family with three other foster kids to learn social etiquette. 

not a good year. 

ryan was returned with a broken arm, scars covering the backs of his thighs & a black eye. clumsy child. the next couple was somewhat different, because they’d wanted to adopt a child for a long time, but they didn’t qualify before & they didn’t have the funds for a newborn, so a six year old was the best they could do. it was fine with them. in their care, ryan discovered he wasn’t normal. except for being stronger than a child should be, the couple found… well, something else was wrong with the little boy in their care. sometimes when he touched them, not only would he scream & flee, but sometimes they’d feel their energy … drain rapidly. ryan was eight years old when these mishaps messed with the peace in the johnson household. it wasn’t until he was nine that he found the words to speak about what he was experiencing. thankfully, he had yet to meet another superhuman, because touching them would surely have sent the confused little boy into a frenzy unlike anything the johnsons ever experienced. a few months later, ryan was … once again, in his old room at foster care. 

how he knew? 

he felt it. the issue that caused his return to the facility this time was … not dealt with. he was left alone to fend for himself in a world that knew no mercy for a confused little boy’s struggles. so, besides knowing nobody wanted him, he also had powers to deal with. 

school in the foster care system.. was okay. ryan knew most of the kids in class with him, so there was that. he might’ve made friends even, but due to images flooding his mind whenever one of the other boys jumped him to play, he ..retreated. he’d sit in the front of the class knowing only few would dare, he spent breaks in his room & generally stayed away from other kids. of course that was noticed, but he wasn’t hurting anybody, so they left him. once ryan learned to read.. he had only very few reasons to leave his room, ever. 

he was eleven when the next foster family took him in. it didn’t go well. back in the residential foster care - a group home for school kids really. a new room, which ryan didn’t like at all. it was shared with three other boys. none of them respected his urge to keep distance between him & them. the worst two years of his life yet. he’d have taken the abusive rednecks from when he was four over this. he was the youngest in the room, definitely the nerdiest - as they called him & when he was prescribed glasses? life, as he knew it, was over for him. the bullying was .. tolerated by the caretakers in the hopes of turning the quiet little boy into a normal, more social child. safe to say it did the opposite. 

ryan found safe places at the facility where he could spend as much of his days as possible for the next few years. his powers grew, but not in a good way. he felt himself change whenever the boys grabbed him or pushed him down to play stampede on his back. their thoughts echoing in his own mind, loud & clear like they were telling him of all the cruel things they yearned to unleash upon him, the pictures of …memories that definitely weren’t his still flooding his mind uncontrollably when they did, too. he had no way to control it, no way to escape the daily onslaught. 

seriously, worst years of his life.

a few weeks before his fourteen’s birthday, he’d meet the owners of his … well, semi-forever home. he was so grateful to get out of that group home, he cried the entire four hour drive to his new home. well, not quite. he passed out halfway through. the house he woke up was the biggest & most beautiful one he’d ever seen. he had his own room. his own room. he knew this was what people called paradise without ever having seen anyplace else. 

this time, though - everything was different. maria & asahi estrada-takashi sat him down & spoke with him, thinking that surely - he was old enough to be treated like an equal, at least ..closely to it. they explained that - so long as he wanted to, this would be his home. they heard of his struggles & unbeknownst to him, had been to visit at the facility where they witnessed enough to know they had to get him out. he wasn’t the only foster child at the estrada-takashi household. he shared it with two older girls who’d soon be his sisters - officially. a year after taking him in, the estrada-takashi’s officially adopted him. 

ryan finally found a sense of normalcy. he expected them to send him away once they found out about his powers, but they didn’t. instead, they brought him his very first pair of gloves. he wore long sleeves most of the time anyway, so that pretty much made him as immune to accidentally getting touched as possible, but - even though his sisters teased him mercilessly, they respected him enough to not force anything on him. to get the young teen out of his room & books more, he was sent for hobbies that allowed distancing as much as possible. ryan was sent to learn how to ride & responsibility was taught by him taking care of the horse on three days of the week, too. besides that, he was trained in the art of kenjutsu to strengthen his body & calligraphy to exercise his mind while teaching him patience & that his urge to chase perfection in everything he did wasn’t a bad thing. 

turned out he had an unexpected talent with the katana & actually found joy in practicing with it. it was all for fun. ever since he had the stability at home & a loving family to back him, he was doing much better & oftentimes left his room to socialize. after an incident at school, they gave him a somewhat exceptional permission to wear his gloves at all times, even during pe. sure, that didn’t exactly help his image in school, but he’d never been very popular. he’d always been told he wasn’t pretty & even his sisters sometimes teased him about his looks - they didn’t know that’d been a recurring happenstance & he .. never told them, so ryan went to school with only one goal in mind. 

survive. 

he had exceptional grades & graduated with flying colors, but due to his rather questionable upbringing & a lack of interesting bullet points on his resume, community college was as high as he’d go. which was where he met the potential love of his life. he fell fast & unbelievably hard. lucky for him, it only took a few weeks of hopeless pining for his classmate for him to be noticed. one would think with how quickly their love bloomed, that it would die out in spectacular colors not long after. but it didn’t.

victor lavine was his soulmate, it seemed. even when ryan explained the gloves & his strange powers, their love didn’t diminish - if anything, it burned brighter despite the obstacles ahead. intimacy. touch still being an issue for ryan, they took things slow. very slow. up until the point that there was nothing left to see when ryan & victor’s skin touched. there was one grand rule, though. an ultimatum victor left ryan to think over. 

me or your powers. 

admittedly, it wasn’t as severe an ultimatum as it sounded, there was no cure for superpowers, but victor - as one of the many people afraid of superhumans, would give true love a chance only if ryan abandoned his powers & the institute. he’d been in contact with them for a few months before he met victor & had been debating giving up his studied to live in a place that was more suited to the likes of him, where he’d learn to control his powers. before he met victor… that sounded pretty good. after, though? not good. the institute had been quite ..convincing. the unwanted child. with a story like his, ryan would surely draw attention to himself & that was what they wanted. attention, positive media, likes. desperate to be seen, to be loved, to be accepted, ryan chose love. 

& he wouldn’t regret it for a long time. he became a teacher, as did victor. they managed to get into the same school afterwards. again fueling ryan’s conviction about them being soulmates. life was good. they moved into their own place soon a lot of states over, not the biggest house, but with decent income on both sides, they lived a comfortable life. moving to the big city had a lot of perks, but also ..not. more people meant that occasionally, ryan would run into other people like him, which … he felt before he saw them & it was during a car crash that he discovered he could ..absorb other superhuman’s powers. in a way. he had no idea how it worked at the time, but when a woman pulled him out of the wreck bare-handed .. by his neck, he felt his body freeze against his will & in her memories he could see why. 

she was like him, but not quite. he didn’t tell victor about her when he got home that night. instead he experimented with his powers every now & then with the help of their dog. well, victor’s dog. they married a few years later & a few years after that, they saved a child from foster care. violet. 

she was three years old at the time & would change their lives forever. she brought a light into their home that neither knew they were missing before. they were the perfect little family & they continued to be for a handful of years. life was sweet & fulfilling & for the longest time ryan thought he was going to grow old with victor by his side, violet would be living her own life one day, but she’d always come visit them, because she loved her fathers & knew what it was like not to have any. 

but life as he saw in their future wasn’t meant to come true. not in this life anyway. ryan had been stuck late at school for a teacher-parent evening with a group of very concerned & incredibly chatty parents, so when he came home around eleven pm, he found the door ajar. inside… the sight that awaited him.. would haunt him until the end of his days, surely. 

he found his home in shambles, blood spatters scattered, but most prominent was a drawn-out puddle leading into the kitchen, which was where he found his husband in a puddle of his own blood. he’d been beaten & stabbed repeatedly while trying to protect their daughter. ryan found whiskers - their dog, dead in the yard afterwards & violet’s lifeless body was discarded in the living room. victor had tried dragging himself towards her, but ended up stranded in the kitchen. 

ryan… had been practicing. very low-key, but he still had a telepath’s powers on quick-dial. he’d been curious to find differences between them, but he never thought that’d be what helped him find out who broke into their home. victor fought. oh, he fought. ryan couldn’t tell if it had been the fear or the dying that caused for an almost violent reaction to his very clumsy tries at getting faces out of his husband’s head. 

the ambulance was too late & the cops? they found nothing worth their time. meanwhile ryan… had three faces. as a widower with nothing left to lose, ryan set out to find them, find out why. find justice vengeance. he found them, eventually & he dealt with them...accordingly. he also found out the truth. 

it was coincidence. 

it wasn’t a planned assassination, it wasn’t someone he upset, it wasn’t someone who might’ve had it out for him. it wasn’t. these guys had seen their pretty little house, their cars & the suits they wore to work & thought they could make a fortune. with victor’s car at the repair shop & ryan’s at the school, they thought their time had come, only to be surprised by a dog & two very much alive humans at home. it was a coincidence that cost ryan everything. 

now, he could’ve let that be the spark needed to pull him down the rabbit hole of villainy, could’ve let that be the catalyst to unleash his wrath upon everybody potentially crossing paths with him. but he didn’t. instead, he reconnected with the institute. they had double the story now, because the gruesome murder of a loving husband & daughter had made it to the eight pm news across social media. 

broken-hearted & hardened by the sheer violence of life, ryan … returned to the institute - partially in the hopes of getting a second chance, but most of all? he wanted to find purpose again. because without his family .. life felt empty. he was but a shadow of his past self, the teacher cracking the worst dad jokes at the kids in class for a few giggles & to lighten the mood had lost the light in his heart. he’s not the stereotypical hero anymore; he’s short-tempered, eager to punish criminals solve crime, only barely semi-social these days & keeps the world at an arm’s length (including his teammates), he’s quiet & definitely not going to be a shining beacon of attention on social media on his own accord, but they knew his story would sell well regardless & paint Paragon Incorporation in a bright-as-fuck light.

the good samaritan & the mourning husband+father. a love story written in the stars, surely the world would agree?

[thetstandsfort]

My main nuggs (and those who I haven't remembered for a long time... and just a rundown of my LC playthrough)

When I first played LC, I got two employees who I grew in love for. Asera and Kobenri.

Underneath Asera's Today's Expression mask, they just have a tired expression including a stubble (thank the Wellcheers crew). Asera is calm, collected, works dilligently and fights alright. I envision them hating work since they just rule at it.

Kobenri, a custom employee, is kind of similar to the Kobeni she was based off. Scared shitless, but can fight a really good fight. Later she became a Twilight wielder, contrasting with BongBong's Paradise Lost.

Asera was also an employee who died thanks to Portrait of another World linking them with someone who was working with Justice Bird. It also marked my first big reset, as I had some unfortunate abnormalities close together.

Also going through my screenshots, it comes to my attention that Kobenri once got selected for Baby Duty.

So, first reset. Installed some mods to make custom employees free. Here's Mari.

Mari... I forgot everything about her.

Anyways, later on, Kobenri reached Quintuple V

Ain't that nice? Way later she did decide to smoke thanks to Freischutz giving her an E.G.O. gift.

But then, way later, when Kobenri was wielding [CENSORED] and wearing Mimicry... a legend was born

BongBong, an agent of chaos, a creature beyond our comprehension, maybe even a humanoid abno in disguise. I really like her, unfortunately, she doesn't get the spotlight yet

However, one employee who I mocked when I was building the facility is the one named Xavier.

Xavier looks... in my honest opinion, a bit ugly. It's thanks to Wellcheers, but even despite that, he slays magical girls, pulling the Queen of Hatred out of hysteria multiple times.

Meanwhile BongBong was wielding the Magical Bullet, causing some days to take some trial and error.

About Asera, they got covered by [CENSORED]

Same went with Kobenri, but with eyes.

So after taking care of Asiyah's problems, I restarted again.

This is where the nuggetsplosion happens

Yes, BongBong got misspelled, but the rest is here, including some not-so important custom nugs. A lot of them were from DMC, Evangalion, Yakuza, Genshin Impact, but all misspelled in a little way.

We also have my girlfriend, who looks more like Zato-1. I love her to bits, but she's not really an "OC", I would say. She's just along for the ride.

Waay later, after Tiphereth got ice cream, Chesed got coffee and Gebura did the facility in, I created Chiyo-Chan

From Azumanga Daioh, I created her as a disposable employee, although she sticked by my side for a long part of the game. She even went through Hokma's little tantrum, which was easily contained by repressing the urge to press space.

Still, Asera got killed again.

After this, I did another reset, got BongBong's name correct and decided to finish this game, going for all the other abno's left. So while abusing time and trying to lure three birds and a plague doctor

So. as my main blorbo's (if I use this term correctly), we have Asera, Kobenri, BongBong and Xavier. It's time for my final one.

Born with a bit of an unfortunate name and sent to the team with a weird sephiroth, here's my final blorbo: Poussey. While Asera knows their shit, Poussey does not and does not care. She can punch, kick, and turn you into a book before you can say that I'm referencing the wrong Project Moon game.

After getting a lost paradise, I restarted for the final time.

Remember when I said I had some DMC characters? Dio was the replacement for one of the characters, and has a keen refusal to die ever since. KiKi is supposed to be the perfect rival of BongBong, but it did not work out. But other than Courtney, the rest just had to be made on my own.

As for BongBong being an agent of chaos, I mean it.

BongBong and Kobenri are also a thing.

Their relation even made them sprout wings (Note, whitenight was not available at the time, thus the console was used. I regret nothing.)

I erm... ran out of screenshots. Boo-womp

So, after LC, where are they now?

(the other floors have nothing of note)

They are loyal parts of the Library, Xavier still has to be pulled from somewhere, but we might be able to find him in no time when the writer actually plays Ruina further again for Pete's sake.

Thank you for reading to my inner machinations of my mind, I hope you enjoyed my coverage of LC a bit using the hook of nuggets.

[vanilladaises-rp]

Hyunjin drabble??

i know this is super random but i found this in my notes and i have another and i just figured i post them. The reader is kinda me since i do like art and hyunjin is hyunjin and I’m a terrible artist. anyways enjoy!

tw/none just really fluff

⊹ ੈ♡ — — — — — — — — — — — — — — ₊˚ ‧₊ ๑ ˎˊ˗

It was hard trying to balance both school and work as a struggling artist, it gave you little to no time to work on your new piece. Although working at a cafe for androids made you feel warm and happy to know they had a safe space to hangout despite it being ran by humans, you dreamed so deeply of becoming a well known artist, having your own shop and maybe an exhibit. Unfortunately, there was just one problem. You were completely terrible at art.

It’s true school has helped you get a bit better but it’s taking longer than you hoped, any chance you got you practiced hard on your lines and shaping to prep your picture for paint. You’re drawing was pretty good, but painting is where you stumbled, your blending always looked poorly done and the paint was either spread incorrectly or very blotchy, and you.always.made.accidents. It angered you so much how clumsy you were and lately it’s gotten worse all because of one man.

Hwang Hyunjin. You’d been dating him for the past four months, and he may be the sweetest boyfriend you’ve had, but also the most talented one as well. Hyunjin was perfect at everything you wish you were, painting, drawing, portraits, landscapes you name it. Art was actually how you both met:

On a rainy Friday morning, you headed to the supplies store to purchase a new easel and some brushes. It was quite empty surprisingly, just a few people here and there, you already gathered your needed supplies but decided to skim the store a bit since it wasn’t very crowded. Looking through the shelves you noticed there was restock on the color you’d been needing for the past month, but just your luck it unfortunately was on the highest shelve.

With no employees nearby and you being too shy to ask for help, you’re only option was to step on the bottom shelve and reach for the top one, which seemed like a well thought out plan before, but you completely slipped and fell on the ground harshly. You groaned in pain, but before you could get up an employee ran towards you, kneeling down to check for injuries, “Are you alright? He asked meeting your eyes, which made your breath hitch.

You sat there completely frozen with wide eyes, shocked at how perfect he was, his eyes, nose and lips. Everything about him was breathtaking and it immediately made you flustered. Hyunjin noticed, and thought he probably startled you, “oh um I’m sorry” he slightly bowed, backing up to give you some space, “if you would like assistance from another employee, I get i-“ “No!” you shouted a lot louder than you wanted, “I mean yes I’m okay, thank you for checking” you smiled softly, mentally slapping yourself for making the situation awkward.

“I would love your help, thank you” you said getting up and gesturing to the color you needed, “Ah good choice, you’re lucky because this one is always sold out” “sold out” you both said at the same time, making him smile with you and hand you the bottle, making your hands come in contact, “My name is Hyunjin, I’m kinda new to the area but it’s nice to meet kind humans like you” he said with a soft tone, making you frown as you thought about what horrible things humans have said or done to him.

Shaking yourself away from your thoughts, you offered him another sweet smile and extended your hand, “ It’s nice to meet you as well, Hyunjin. My name is Y/N, thank you for helping me” he was hesitant but nonetheless shook your hand, both of you getting lost in each’s eyes for a moment. Hyunjin had asked If you could show him around after his shift, and you instantly agreed. After that day you two became inseparable.

Hyunjin knew you were shy about your art and never pushed or pressured you to show him, but he had no idea how hard you were struggling. You never told him because it was embarrassing and you were afraid he might laugh or judge you. Your friends at the cafe always ensured you how much progress you were making and encouraged you to keep trying, but with each assignment it got harder and harder.

Hyunjin had arranged a sweet date for your 6 month anniversary, you thought it was a bit cheesy but he insisted it was an important milestone in a relationship, so you eventually agreed after all his convincing. You wanted to surprise him by finally showcasing your work to him, deciding to do a watercolor picture of the two of you. There was a pic your friend snapped of you two kissing and it was your favorite, the lighting, angel and setting was perfect, you just couldn’t wait to show him.

It was a stressful two months but It had been your best piece yet. Though there was some flaws, it looked exactly how you pictured it. You had just finished getting ready and decided to add a little glitter to the details, making the picture pop more but you accidentally spilled the whole bottle on it, which made you instantly break into tears. Hyunjin was supposed to be over in a bit so there was no way of salvaging it and you couldn’t start over, so you just sat there in your art room crying until he came knocking on your door.

“Doll? Are you there?” he asked after a few knocks, arms full off snacks, gifts and games for tonight. Hyunjin didn’t want to barge in, but you weren’t responding so he took the spare key you gave him and unlocked the door. Hyunjin walked in and placed all the stuff on the coffee table after closing the door, “Angel?” he called again, his body becoming more tense as he heard little whines, immediately following the sounds.

The cries lead to your art room which he wasn’t allowed in, “Y/N? Are you in here?” he knocked, making sure to get permission from you first before entering “Um y-yes just gimme a sec jinnie, I-I’ll be out in a bit” you stuttered trying to muffle your sobs, “Doll, you’re crying. What’s wrong?” he asked, more worried now that you won’t let him in, “I-I ruined everything . . .” your voice cracked, letting more tears fall, “What? Honey, no you didn’t, you could never ruin anything” he paused, gripping the handle to the door “I’m gonna come in okay?” he announced with a slightly shaky voice.

You were too sadden to object, letting him enter as he saw everything. All your projects you spoke about spread around the room which made him smile. Hyunjin thought they were beautiful and was shocked you were so shy about them, “p-please stop starring like that, I-I know they’re ugly and so is this one” you said with hurt and anger, starting to crumble up your anniversary photo. Hyunjin was shocked by you sudden change of mood, but he couldn’t get a word out before you interrupted.

“I-I know I’m not as talented as you Hwang Hyujin, b-but that doesn’t mean you can just stare and laugh at my h-hard work!” you yelled making him flinch a bit. Your sobs kept coming, making you unable to speak any further so you threw the paper and fell to the ground. By your words, Hyunjin could tell you were insecure about your work and that you may have taking his reaction as if he was more amused than impressed, “Baby, that’s not what I’m doing at all. If i’m being honest, I think your work is beautiful, it’s rare and unique” he assured you, taking a seat next to you, scooping you up in his arms,

“I was staring because I was impressed, and completely stunned that you kept them hidden” he explained himself which made you look up at him with puffy eyes, “R-Really?” you asked barely above a whisper, making him smile and nodded, “Yes really, and I don’t think I’m more talented than you, I have flaws as well, art is subjective babe. What seems ugly to you, may be appealing to others” he explained rubbing your arm soothingly. Hyun smiled and lifted your chin for a kiss, “I hope you can be more open about your work with me, and maybe we can even teach each other things and we can have cute art dates” he chuckled “And I really believe you’re an amazing artist y/n, just don’t forget about me once you blow up” he winked, placing kisses all over your face. “Now, show me this picture you “supposedly” ruined” he asked.

Although you still weren’t happy with your work, with the help of your supportive friends and lovinf boyfriend, you’d soon with the help of your friends and loving boyfriend, you know you’d soon learn to love your style and become more comfortable with it.

[queen-of-writing-bad-things]

Henry Danger Reader Insert | Captain Man x Reader: SEASON 5

Episode 17: Holey Moley

Ray Manchester was not an intelligent man. Or at least, no one ever claimed he was. 

He had street smarts, the knowledge to beat any guy who crossed him to a pulp, and a fiancée who claimed he had his moments of intelligence. Still, on the whole, his employees would say that he was a doofus. Famously so. 

Therefore, when he herded them to Junk-N-Stuff, they weren't surprised when a grumpy, tired, old delivery man dropped off a shrouded painting. Ray's new baby and the second most beloved thing in his life.  The first was (y/n), of course, who raised her eyebrows at the grotesque picture because she hadn't imagined anything so big when he'd said he wanted a portrait of his team. 

And what's more, he wouldn't let anyone see it until they got it down to the Man Cave when it could be displayed for all to marvel at, so that's what they did. 

In a long struggle that the hero didn't lift a hand to help, Schwoz (y/n) and Charlotte lifted the painting into the elevator, grumbling about how heavy the damn thing was and how he'd threatened to kill them if it got snagged or bumped. 

Finally, it was in, so all they had to do was get it back out again once they'd descended, which was easier said than done with a cack-handed, heavy-footed idiot guiding them, who for the entire trip down refused to take his hand off his sweet girl's butt. 

"Lift with your backs! Always lift with your back and your neck!" He advised them as they came out of the elevator carefully. Schwoz was out first after Ray, and then Charlotte and (y/n) took the other side, uniting their strength since the younger girl couldn't hold the picture on her own. Why their boss couldn't help was a mystery, and her arms were beginning to tire, much like her friend's patience with her lover. 

"What does that even mean?"

"Doofus, you're meant to lift from the knees, not your back!" The girls complained as they shuffled out of the elevator and ignored whatever poor advice the man had to give. No way were they going to tear a muscle or slip a disk for him. 

"We're here on a Saturday morning for this?"

"Keep your core as loose as possible!" Whatever Charlotte had to say, Ray ignored it because he had two things to worry about; his beautiful painting, which promised to be perfect, and his precious girl, who he'd promised not to go overboard. Something simple, elegant and understated; a masterpiece that would match their decor and not insult her eyes whenever they had to look at it. So, being a simple, elegant and understated man, he went with that theme and tossed it in the trash. 

"Don't tell me what to do with my core," Schwoz hissed and placed the painting on the floor before his spine snapped. Ray could hang it wherever he liked, but he'd finished for the day. That man was so ungrateful, and he felt that (y/n) would scold him for being annoying. 

"Am I gonna have to do this thing myself?" Ray asked indignantly, hand on his hips as he frowned at the trio. His sweet girl would never frown back—not much anyway, not when he looked so cute in his little zip-up hoodie—but his helpers were very unimpressed. Did he not see them breaking their backs for some dumb thing that he claimed to be a modern-day Michelangelo?

"Yes!" "Go ahead!" They said enthusiastically, ready for a break. As if Ray would give them one. 

"Well, I don't wanna. Now, take off the sheet so I can see it!" He commanded, earning a few more grumbles since he was barking so many orders and rudely. Schwoz and Charlotte looked at (y/n), hoping for her to say something because she was the only one Ray would listen to, but she was way ahead of them.

"A please would be nice, Raymond. Manners cost nothing," she chastised him, and to the others' satisfaction, he looked down in shame for a second. Her motherly scolding always worked because he never wanted to be anything but the perfect lover in her eyes. They pulled away the cotton sheet covering the painting as he humbled himself. 

"Dear god above..." (y/n) breathed out, not knowing what to say, good or bad. It was...interesting, very over-the-top, very abstract, very...Ray. To her embarrassment and slight repulsion, the scene depicted a stormy sea with dark clouds and a shining moon beaming its light down onto the subjects of the oil painting. 

They just happened to be Ray, drawn as a centaur from Ancient Greek mythology; half man, half horse with a lightning bolt in his hand as his hooves reared above a shoreline rock. 

In front of him was (y/n), drawn like a Grecian Goddess in a flowing white dress and her hair curled and pinned in an elegant updo from a bygone age. Her hand was trailing his chiselled abs as she wistfully looked over her shoulder across the raging sea, clearly the beautiful lover of the epic hero. 

Around them, and she swore this was the worst feature, were Jasper, Henry, Charlotte and Schwoz, flying through the air since they were meant to be angelic cherubs. And if that wasn't weird enough, they each had an electric guitar and seemed to be cheering for their holy leader as he bathed in the moonlight for some reason. 

Oh god, she couldn't stare at this for the rest of their lives; it would have to be thrown on a bonfire because it was tacky, ridiculous and distasteful - Ray to a tee. 

"Turn it on, please," he went on, remembering his manners this time. Schwoz looked unsure; he'd seen (y/n)'s horrified expression turn to confusion and didn't want her to know that the painting had a hidden feature that would worsen her hate. But the boss had given his orders, so Charlotte flicked the hidden switch. Schwoz was right—it did get worse.

A high-pitched squeal came from the back of (y/n)'s throat, so high that probably only dogs could hear it, and she wasn't aware that it was coming from her; all she could think about was how excessively hideous the painting was now that the sky and moon were illuminated from hidden wiring behind the canvas as the golden frame twinkled, and not only that. Ray's eyes flashed red, and a halo appeared above Goddess (y/n)'s head, depicting her as his guardian angel in a symbolic gesture that was sweet yet embarrassing. 

"Best two hundred thousand dollars I ever spent," Ray sighed, looking at his painting with pride and adoration. It was everything he'd asked forward; his followers were surrounding him, the legendary hero, and his sweet girl looked every bit as pure, beautiful and regal as she did in real life—the only one he'd want if he were set to rule a kingdom after a long and bloody battle. 

"Whoa!"

"Did he say two hundred thousand?! Please, tell me he didn't say two hundred thousand!" 

"How much?" His helpers and lover exclaimed, blinking when he let the extortionate price slip from his lips. It was a masterpiece; they didn't come cheap, and he knew they loved it. How could they not?

"Eh, you got me. It was three hundred thousand!" The man pretended to whisper, but they all heard him clearly, including (y/n), who wasn't sure if he was fibbing or telling the truth. If it did cost that much, she would indeed be having a heart attack in the next hour because that was a decent chunk of their crimefighting budget blown on something she now firmly hated. Or maybe he'd dipped into their savings a bit, too; did he not know they were saving for a wedding?

"Ray, please tell me you're joking," she said nervously, walking over to grab his hand and look him in the eye. She trusted him, but it wouldn't hurt to make sure. 

"Aw, you're so cute, darlin'," Ray grinned and pinched at her cheek as he took in her serious face. She had nothing to worry about; he had everything under control, and they were financially sound, so after kissing her cheek firmly but sweetly, he looked at the wall next to the elevator and decided it was the place for his prized painting to go.  "Now, let's hang this beast of a masterpiece!"

"Does it have to go there? I mean, not that I don't like it, sweetheart, but—" the woman said hesitantly as her doofus left her side and took a hammer and large iron peg to the wall. It would have to be sturdy to hold the colossal frame, and whilst she didn't want to upset him, she didn't fancy seeing that horror every time she came down from the sprocket, when they were making out on the couch, or heading out for a mission. 

"Hammer strike!" Ray yelled, bringing the wooden mallet down on the metal peg to make the first chip. He was listening to her, of course, but wanted to get started as he did the listening thing. 

However, when the hammer made the first dent, something mysterious happened; the rock crumbled like sand, revealing a cavity in the wall that led to a strange and ancient tunnel. Ray stepped back in wonder and worry, looking at his sweet girl as if he'd done something wrong and needed her comfort, but she was just as stumped as he was. 

Gingerly taking a few steps forward with Charlotte and Schwoz, the four of them curiously peered into the hole and observed the long, shadowy tunnel, complete with stalagmites and stalactites and wispy cobwebs. They hadn't realised that a tunnel connected to the Man Cave. 

"Call Henry... On the phone," Ray instructed his helpers dramatically, which earned him a few weird looks, but they understood the message. He refused to let them get any closer because they couldn't go off galavanting without his young sidekick to experience the fun. That was why he was shielding (y/n) from the darkness of the shaft because he wanted to wait for everyone to arrive, certainly not because he was protecting her from the unknown horrors lurking around the bend. 

Rolling her eyes at her boss' apparent behaviour, Charlotte took out her phone and looked for Henry's contact. From the way he dragged his curious fiancée away from the "danger", he wasn't exactly being subtle, but (y/n) didn't mind, not when he smothered her with distracting kisses instead; again, Charlotte rolled her eyes, waiting with the dialling tone for her friend to pick up before she was sick. 

"Hey, Charlotte. What's up?" Finally, he answered. 

"Okay, so Ray wanted me to call you—"

"Don't tell Henry! It's a surprise! Tell him to bring bagels!"

"Tell Henry to get here now! Tell him to hurry up, or you can tell him about the painting!" Schwoz and Ray shouted, spooking her into silence as they gave her arbitrary commands. The cave news was secret until he came to see it for himself. He needed to hurry up before they all died from curiosity, or Ray died from watching his sweet girl venture off alone. But, of course, she could brag about the god-awful painting; that was the whole point of it. 

"Did you get any of that?" She wondered if any of their jumbled orders made it through the speaker clearly for her friend to comprehend. 

"They want me to come to work with a painting of bagels?" Henry repeated what little he'd heard, which had only been about Schwoz feeling hungry and Ray wanted to show off. It left the boy confused since he'd never been given such a strange task before work, and it sucked to end the laser tag match between him, Jasper and his dad for something so random. 

"Just get down here, okay?" Charlotte told him before hanging up, trying to convey that what was going on was a lot more serious yet fun than something dumb painting—something someone should've told Ray. It was as if the man couldn't decide what to focus on; his lover, the artwork, or the tunnel, so he settled for a routine of glancing at each, although only once got frequent kisses to the forehead as a muscly around wrapped around her waist. 

"Schwoz. I want every inch of these tunnels scanned and mapped out before we go in. To be on the safe side," he said to the genius, who nodded and gave a quiet "aye" before walking off to go and get the necessary equipment. 

His order made Charlotte look at him curiously because nearly all the time she had known him, the girl had never considered Ray Manchester a cautious man. Usually, he was the first to go charging in head first, going where no man had been before because he had to be the best; first place in everything. 

But as he turned to smile at (y/n), she understood his caution. Yeah, he showed her the painting and bragged about it a little bit, but even then, he did so quietly, lost in her attention as she listened with the patience of a saint. He didn't want to go in because that would mean leading her blindly into danger, and the best husband didn't leave his beloved wife to face creepy crawlies and ghouls for the sake of exploring. 

No, he was going to wait for his handyman to map out where they could go and where they couldn't; it was safer that way, and he wouldn't have it any other way where his precious girl and, secretly, his family were involved. 

Maybe Ray Manchester was an intelligent man, after all. 

~

Henry stepped out of the elevator, followed closely by Jasper, who technically Ray didn't invite to come, but as Captain Man's most loyal fanatic, he came down anyway. Laser tag was fun, but whatever had caused such a stir was better; hell, the trip was worth seeing the hideous painting, which continuously glowed while Schwoz had been busy piloting his drone. 

The boys thought it was fantastic--probably a testosterone thing--and they grinned as they took in the epic scene, grimacing when they also saw its owner kissing his future wife. 

"All right, what's the surp--hey man, your painting came?! That looks sick!" Henry exclaimed, ignoring how his eye twitched for a second as his boss ate (y/n)'s face. He could see the genius across from them, doing something with some VR goggles and remote control, but paid no attention to it. The artwork was better. 

"Whoa! Am I a floating baby angel?" Jasper asked happily, seeing himself immortalised on the canvas as one of the guitar-playing cherubs. 

"Playing guitar!" Ray noted with a smirk, his arm wrapped snuggly around his sweet girl as she rolled her eyes. Only her doofus could combine neoclassicism with modern abstract themes. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! Ray's painting is amazing, but that's not important right now. What's important is--tunnels!" she told the boys, feeling smug when they returned a confused expression. They had no idea what she was going on; they didn't know that Charlotte ran along with Schwoz's drone for some reckless solo exploration, despite the adults' protests, nor that Ray thoroughly planned to explore the entire system once Schwoz created a map. They knew nothing, only that the couple were excited for some reason. 

"Hmm?"

"Tunnels!" Ray reiterated in a silly, high-pitched voice before removing his arm from his lover's shoulders so he could show his sidekick and helper. "Check this out, you guys!"

"Whoa..."

"Wow!" Henry and Jasper breathed out as they turned to see the gaping hole in the wall, leading to god knows what. It was mysterious and a tad weird, considering that no one knew about tunnels in the Man Cave to have tunnels before, so Henry shared his boss' excitement; Jasper, however, was a little sceptical. Had he stopped playing laser tag for this?

"What's so exciting about tunnels?" he asked, imitating Ray's voice, much to his quick anger. This kid, honestly, what did his sweet girl see in him?

"Get out! Just leave if you're gonna ruin this!" he snapped, causing Jasper to pale at his boss' sudden outburst. (y/n) rolled her eyes and settled her hand on the man's shoulder to remind him to calm down. If Jasper didn't see the thrill in uncharted tunnels, they'd have to show him, not bully the poor kid, who floundered to apologise to the man-child leader.

"But I was just asking you about--"

"So, we were just gonna hang that sick painting of me and (y/n), right?" Ray said to Henry, ignoring whatever Jasper had to say, much to the boy's annoyance. The woman gave him a sympathetic look and glanced at the painting; god, it was awful, but it was her fiancé's tribute to them as a couple. "But when I went to hammer the spike into place, this hole opened up and--tunnels!"

"Wow..." Henry grinned and poked his head into the cavity to try and see down the shaft," where does it go?"

"The question is, Henry. Where does it go?" Ray repeated, trying to sound intellectual, even though he was merely saying the same thing as Henry. Intonation had nothing to do with it, but Ray's temper rose again when his most annoying helper tried to highlight that. 

"That's what he said--"

"Strike two, buddy!" he said firmly, holding up two fingers that made Jasper knit his eyebrows together. What would happen on his third strike? He didn't know why Ray forced him to play some childish, time-out game, but a shrug from (y/n) told him not to worry; after all, everyone knew that she was the true boss of the Man Cave. No one else could bring Captain Man to his knees the way she could, even if he were the respected leader. 

"Schwoz is figuring out where it goes right now. He's got a drone in there mapping it all out," she explained, unaware that as she spoke, Ray looked down at her fondly and kissed the top of her head before he realised what he was doing. Sometimes, the urge was too strong, but Henry and Jasper ignored it, diverting to watch Schwoz piloting his drone, albeit with smirks on their faces. 

"Wow, there's a lot more tunnels than I thought--" Henry noted, glancing at the screen next to the genius, which showed lots of red squiggles across a residential map. Each squiggle represented a tunnel, some of which were dead ends, but others went on for miles and miles and miles, as Schwoz was about to tell them.

"Look out! The drone is coming back!" he shouted, and the group near the tunnel entrance pulled back to allow the whirring device to float back into the main room. Ray's arms encircled his girl's waist, keeping her close to his warm body, leaving her gently smiling as Schwoz collected the drone like an eagle returning to a falconry master. 

"Good girl," he told the machine strangely, bringing a few puzzled looks from his friends as they gathered around, but they let it slide. It was one of those Schwoz things they'd all learned to accept. 

"I think that's Swellview," Jasper said as he studied the tunnel map on the screen. The tunnels were fascinating, but he was more curious about the streets above them; one that looked like the one where he went to school, the one with his favourite pizzeria, and the one where he lived. There could be no doubt that the squiggles ran underneath the entire city. 

"Ugh--strike three! Where'd that hammer go?!" Ray grunted and trained as he heard the boy's brilliant but irritating deduction. He didn't care if he was right; Jasper's should be seen but not heard, or preferably not seen, so the man reverted to whatever sport-like game he was playing, although the rules didn't make much sense. 

"Doofus, wait! I think Jasper's right!" (y/n) gasped, calling out for her lover as he stomped off to retrieve his mallet. Squinting at the monitor, she discovered that those streets were undoubtedly similar to the ones they walked every day. It was confirmed when Schwoz changed it to an actual map of Swellview with the tunnels overlaying in blue. 

"He is! The tunnels run underneath all of Swellview," Schwoz nodded, gesturing to the board so everyone could see that the boy, infamous for being a dunce, was correct for the first time in his life. 

With a smug smile, he turned to Ray, arms folded and face set in stone as he waited for an apology from his now silent boss. The man looked sheepish, and his fist clenched around the hammer he'd lowered from above his head, ready to strike; he hated being wrong, but the kid had him against a wall, threatening him with the wrath of his sweet girl if he didn't give in. 

"Two and a half," he conceded, giving the boy a sour face for making him look like an idiot. 

"There's no such thing as a half strike," Jasper stated, making (y/n) roll her eyes as he ripped the argument open again. It was like he wanted her doofus to be pissed off by walking into it repeatedly - Captain Man did not like insubordinate weirdos who'd haunted him from the day they'd met. 

"Now, you're back to three, chief! One more strike, and you're in the penalty box!"

"What sport is this?" the boy cried, confused by all the strange rules. Why was it four strikes and not three? Where did the penalty box come into it? This wasn't football, and the teen felt that Ray was making it up as he went along, so he did the only thing he could. 

He turned to (y/n) and used his best cute Curly puppy-dog eyes to come and save him from her big, bad, bullying lover. 

"Leave him alone, Ray. And give me that before you hurt yourself or someone else," she told him firmly, pulling the hammer from the hero's hand, albeit with some residence that earned him a daring glance. She gave him her hand in replacement, which he gladly held as they returned to the monitor, studying the tunnels after a split-second respite to lock lips. 

"These tunnels..." Henry mentioned, ignorant to his lovesick boss and friends behind him, " they run under my house, school, all fourteen locations of Nacho Ball..."

"So, who built these things?" Jasper asked, wondering who would go to the trouble of digging so many tunnels, so well that no one noticed. Maybe it was one of those things that had happened centuries ago, as if the passing of time left them forgotten and disused as people stayed above ground, never thinking about what could be beneath them. 

"The question is, who built these things?" Schwoz reiterated that much like Ray had done earlier, trying to sound cool when all he was doing was repeating, as the best friends shared a tired look. 

"And the answer is...I don't care! Let's take a tunnel to Nacho dang Ball!" Ray replied, throwing caution to the wind now that Schwoz had confirmed that no Oogie-Boogies lurked around the corner. He held on to (y/n)'s wrist tightly and pulled her excitedly toward the tunnel's entrance, Jasper and Schwoz closely following them as they whooped happily. 

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" However, Henry was not so animated. As he watched the others hurry, slowing down only for the heroine to deposit the hammer on a workbench, he had a thought. 

"What? What? What?!" Ray asked tiredly, sighing at how he'd had to stop short before even stepping foot in the unknown territory. It was safe as far as he knew; that meant he was free to take his beloved fiancé to Nacho Ball and buy whatever her tummy desired, as per his tradition, whenever they went to the fast food joint. So, Henry telling him to wait was unthinkable, appalling, and downright rude, considering they'd already waited for him. 

"Guys, we can't just go running into tunnels! I mean, we don't know who built these things or who could be hiding inside. (y/n), I'm surprised that you're going to let Ray drag you in there!" the boy exclaimed and gave the woman a disapproving eye that rolled off her like water on a duck's back. 

"Nothing came up on the drone's scans. And hey, people are always telling me to live a little, so this is me living!" she replied, brushing away his comments since he'd been calling her an eighty-year-old woman trapped in the body of a thirty-two-year-old from the day they'd met. He'd told her to enjoy her youth and go out instead of staying home and working in the company of teenagers and a man-child. Now that she wanted to do something fun, he was telling her off. 

Rude. 

"Y'know, where's Charlotte?" the boy asked, feeling one-sided, so he looked for his calm and rational friend, who'd been notably absent in the few minutes he'd been at work."If Charlotte were here, she'd be crossing her arms and saying; mmmm, I don't know about this, guys. And then, (y/n) would generally agree with her like, yeah, Charlotte is so right. Ray, stop being a doofus and kiss me--"

His silly, mocking voice got him a pointed stare from the woman, who opened her mouth to argue against his words. She did not sound so...Karen-ish and resented how he so accurately predicted one of her interactions with her lover, which was annoyingly true to how she scolded him - affectionately and warmly with no real telling off at all. 

"You guys!" But she never got to snap back, not when a very excited, almost rampaging Charlotte poked her head from the cavity with her arms full of takeout food, "These tunnels go to Nacho dang Ball! Come on!"

"Or she'd say that," Henry murmured, shocked by the girl's sudden appearance and disappearance. He'd never seen her so unhinged and carefree. He took a moment to overcome the shock as Ray grinned, pushed his sidekick to the side, and pulled his equally giddy girl along with him. They and Schwoz and Jasper disappeared into the underpass, and Henry scrambled after them. 

He wasn't missing this for the world. 

~

The tunnels were creepy. Really creepy. (y/n) wasn't sure if she liked them as her doofus pulled her down one route and another. 

It was dark, understandably, with worms falling from the ceiling to make her jump if the hanging vines didn't when they felt like a dirty hand on her shoulder. The air was earthy and damp, the ground beneath her feet solid but squishy, and at times the walls felt very close as they oozed water raining from the surface. 

She stuck close to Ray's side, not liking how she suddenly developed slight claustrophobia as the excitement dulled on the brief journey from restaurants to theme parks. 

There were roots, too; they seemed to hold the mud around them stable, which the heroine decided was worth tripping over every five seconds, but dirty knees weren't what bothered her. She could swear that gleaming eyes were watching their every move in the holes, nooks and crannies that lined the tunnels or even right behind them. 

Maybe her nerves and the unconscious fear stemmed from humanity evolving to live on the Earth and not beneath it, but her tummy felt funny. And it wasn't from the mountain of Nacho Ball Ray bought her. 

"This underground air is great for my skin!" Schwoz noted as they walked from their last fun-filled stop. It must've been (y/n); no one else seemed bothered by the spookiness of the tunnels, so ignoring her anxiety, she agreed and continued hugging the elephant plushie that her fiancé won for her at Six Poles Over Swellview. 

"Yeah, I was gonna say that. You look great!"

"I know!" Schwoz said smugly, stroking his smooth cheek as he marvelled at how the close, stagnant air gave him a free facial. 

"I could not have been more wrong about these tunnels!" Henry chuckled as he sauntered next to Ray. The latter obtained a free, comically large Stetson and two stickers for doing his bit for society after popping up at a county vote. His hand slipped into (y/n)'s back pocket, keeping it there as they strolled since he thought her ass was one of her fifty-best features and loved to remind her of that. 

"You were so wrong!" 

"I was! I was wrong!" the boy agreed with his boss, although he floundered upon seeing where his hand was. No matter how much she swatted him, Ray wouldn't budge, so (y/n) gave up trying in the end. 

Oh, well. It was much better to focus on how happy Ray was after winning her the elephant anyway, especially since all the other boyfriends tried and failed to impress their dates at the water gun shooting range. And, of course, being Captain Man had nothing to do with his prowess or arrogance as the stallman proclaimed him the victor. 

"It takes no time to get anywhere when you're going in a tunnel!" Jasper grinned, recalling how they completed their city spree in the remainder of the morning since they didn't need to worry about stop lights, traffic or other people. 

"Yeah, if we took surface streets, we never would have made it to Nacho Ball, Six Poles Over Swellview, the movies, and another Nacho Ball," Charlotte said dreamily, recounting all of the adventures they'd had in such a short space of time. 

"Plus, Ray voted!" (y/n) added proudly, looking back at her doofus, who hated leaving the Man Cave and didn't understand politics, so getting him to the polls in person was tricky. With the excitement of the tunnels, however, he found the process much easier and enjoyed the reward of a kiss. 

"Twice! In the same election," the man replied, glancing at his stickers briefly as he remembered the officials not noticing the same goofy man coming and going twice. It had been a wild ride, and he was grateful they'd experienced a carefree, entertaining morning together where they could relax and not work. He was even more thankful that he'd had the opportunity to do everyday couple things with his sweet girl, like eating way too much fast food, going on the love boat ride at Six Poles, and making out for the entirety of the movie. 

"And guys, it's not even noon!" Henry reminded them. Underground, day and night didn't exist, so it felt strange to emerge in the city again to discover that only fifteen minutes had passed since their last activity. It was so unbelievable that no one noticed their surroundings--or who was watching; they were too concerned about their incredible find. 

"We should stop calling these tunnels and start calling them funnels! Am I right?! 'Cause, of how much fun they are!" Schwoz laughed, raising his hand as if he were taking a vote, only no one was in favour. His suggestion was cringy, and the boys looked at him weirdly as he did, which left the girls to cautiously and curiously peer around the cavern. 

It started when a draught of air passed their ankles, and it was cool enough to make them shiver and look in the direction it came. That's when they saw it. It wasn't a lot, just a flash of some unknown creature, but enough for them to grow concerned as the black sliver disappeared further into the tunnel. Some might have ruled it down to their imagination, a shadow born from the creepiness of the place, and carried on their merry way, but the girls couldn't ignore what they'd seen. 

Shadows don't make noises when they creep, and nor do they leave footprints. 

"Uh, Ray?" (y/n) mumbled worriedly and tugged on her lover's sleeve as Charlotte took a few hesitant steps down the shaft - where the shadow went. He paid no attention, too caught up in Schwoz's stupid pun shit to hear her fearful voice, and her sleeve tugging caused him to wrap his arm around her shoulders; it was a comfort, but nothing more. Not the support she wanted as they started walking again towards it. 

"All I know is that there is absolutely no downside to these tunnels."

"None!"

"At all!" Henry and Jasper quickly and wholeheartedly agreed with their boss, throwing their heads back with joy as they celebrated their find. Ray didn't think anything of it when his pretty girl glued herself to his side; the tunnels were cold, and her t-shirt wasn't doing much to stop that, so he made a mental note to give her his sweater around the next corner, but--.

"GUYS!" Charlotte snapped harshly, and the boys wondered what she was so bossy about as they entered the next clearing, only to stop dead in their tracks at what they found. 

The laughter died as they entered, forming a huddled group. Ray stopped their movements and glared at the scurrying, whiskered creatures gathering in front of them. He tugged (y/n) behind his back, distrustful of those imps and everything they'd ever done to make their lives miserable, but she wanted to see. She was a superhero too. 

They had dirty, brown fur from the crowns of their heads to their navels, where the dense hair gave way to ragged knee britches made from hessian. Long, pale shin bones ran to dirty feet that replaced shoes with a small fur lining that revealed pointed toenails half the length of their sharp claws. 

Weak eyes narrowed, and pointed snouts curled upwards to show animalistic snarls at the intruders, who had so rudely intruded on their home. Amongst them, one wore a small tiara glittered in the dim light of the candles, but there was nothing royal about these beasts. 

"Mole people!" Schwoz gasped as he instantly recognised the creatures as they gathered in their dozens. How could he not recognise them? They'd haunted the Man Cave for years and even managed to blow two up, which still embittered Ray a month later. 

"Oh, look. A downside..." (y/n) gulped and hugged her elephant and doofus tight. They were hilariously outnumbered, and those tunnel-digging claws looked sharp, so the group felt trapped as the Mole People cornered them. Honestly, this was why she preferred to stay at home; she'd never once been hounded by snivelling rodents whilst binging her favourite romcoms, kissing her fiancé and eating pizza. 

"Looks like a bunch of Mole People, dude," Henry hissed in Ray's ear as if the man couldn't see what was in front of him. He stared at the creatures in shock, disgust and fear, marvelling at their existence because he'd written them off for most of his life as bedtime stories. How wrong he'd been. 

"It is a bunch of Mole People. The same ones that blew up the Man Cave," the hero replied, glaring at the horde who'd destroyed his home. Granted, he'd been partially at fault too, but he wouldn't admit that not when he could blame them. 

"Yeah, but that was only one Mole Guy, doof. This is, like...a bunch of Mole People," (y/n) whispered, eyeing each Mole as they waited for something. She didn't know how to describe them; were they a pack? A herd? A flock? A school? A labour? She knew Ray did not like them, which was a mutual feeling. 

"Mole People are everywhere!" the head Mole declared, the one in the tiara and long, hessian skirt, in a squeaky, aggressive voice that caused her companions to squawk their agreement. Their incessant squeaking made shivers run through the team's bodies; no one knew if they would attack, given that they didn't look too thrilled to have visitors. 

"My mom always said that Mole People would sneak into my room at night if I didn't eat my dinner," Jasper told his friends quietly, recalling how the creatures were part of Swellviewian legend but nothing concrete. Just another nightmarish tale to make children behave like the Bogeyman or Krampus. 

"She's right. We do."

"Seriously?" Charlotte and the others gasped as the Mole Leader confirmed Jasper's story, making them think about how many times a Mole Person could've crept into their house without anyone knowing. That knowledge alone was enough to rile Ray up. 

"Look!" he started, standing taller as he shielded his lover and family and met the eye of the head Mole, "I don't care what anybody does in Jasper's bedroom. What I do care about is your Mole People are in our tunnels. Now, get out of here!"

"Your tunnels?"

"Yeah!" the man nodded as the tiara-wearing Mole scoffed at his self-centred assumption that their home was free and up for grabs because it was quiet, dusty and next to his Man Cave. 

"Our Mole Fathers dug these tunnels centuries ago!"

"Well, we found them hours ago. So, that means they're ours!" Ray replied rather meanly, causing his sidekicks to cringe since he was acting like a total gunch. (y/n) didn't fancy getting in a fight with the Mole People, not when they already looked bizarre and creepy, so she reached out to pull her lover back and apologise to the sand scurriers for getting in their way when Schwoz opened his big mouth. 

"Yeah, 'cause that's how America works!" he sneered at the Moles, and the others immediately reacted to his embarrassing faux pas. They stuttered out apologies, promising that most Americans didn't think like that anymore and wanted to move on before Schwoz the idiot said anything else rude and uncalled for. He was technically trying to excite his boss, and as a foreigner, he didn't understand how inappropriate his poorly placed history was, but that wasn't what upset the Moles.

"Get out of our tunnels!" the Mole Queen cried, ignoring the funny little man's words to get rid of them at once. She had every right to tell them to go away; after all, they were there first, but Ray didn't see it that way. Her exclamation was challenging, and he took off his comical Stetson as she glared. 

"What if we say no?" He asked defiantly and gave the hat to Jasper before taunting the Moles. "What are you gonna do about it, Hairy Underwood?"

"Well, I could tell you, but I'd rather leave you in the dark!" the queen cried, her sugary voice turning sour as she lifted her arm to signal her command. Instantly, the candles and lanterns extinguished, plunging the tunnels into pitch blackness that left the Man Cave team screaming in panic as fur brushed against their arms and legs in a stampede that made them question what was happening. 

A fight broke out; (y/n) didn't know whose hand grabbed hers, but it was too rough and forceful to be her doofus. Hence, she punched in that direction, hitting something soft and squishy as another body collided with hers. Ray was lost in the crowd, hearing Henry and Jasper scream as he wrestled with something until Charlotte had the bright idea of turning on her PearPhone's torch. It wasn't much light but enough for them to see what was happening.

Henry gasped as he saw the Mole on top of his head, repeatedly trying to get it to cave in as he looked down to see (y/n) hugging his leg like a limpet, holding on tight since she'd sworn that it felt much more prominent in the dark, much to her embarrassment. Schwoz had climbed onto Charlotte's lap with his legs swung across hers, which caused her to grimace as he cosied up to her. And Ray...he was fighting bravely--against the wrong side. 

"Why...won't...you...die?!" he grunted with each swing of the elephant plush that his precious girl dropped in the kerfuffle. He'd trodden on it at one point and picked it up to use as a weapon against the lump he bumped into--that lump being Jasper, who was lying on the floor and taking every pathetic hit from his confused boss. 

"Stop hitting me!" He snapped, and Ray recoiled as he recognised his face. No snout, claws, and fur--that was a Jasper, not a Mole, so he quickly stopped hitting and helped the boy up. "Oh...sorry. Your face is very Mole-like in the dark."

"Get off me! (y/n), you're not helping this situation!" Henry groaned as he shook the Mole off his shoulders after a small struggle and looked down at the crouching woman with a raised eyebrow. Was his leg that comforting?

"I...thought you were Ray?" she said nervously with an embarrassed laugh, which Henry returned with a slightly sick look as he helped her to her feet. If the lights hadn't come on, what would she have done? That didn't bear thinking, and he quickly started pushing her towards her lover before she began to hug anywhere else. 

"Please, never say that again," he murmured, and they merged with the group, (y/n) returning to Ray's side as he glanced at her and the kid to ensure they were okay. His hand trailed her cheek, and she nodded twice to tell him that apart from a few bumps and bashes, she was unharmed and eager to turn her phone torch on. 

"What is wrong with you?!" Charlotte angrily asked Schwoz, who, unlike the woman, refused to budge from his limpet-like state and stayed sitting on the girl's lap.

"I'm afraid of the dark," he replied sheepishly and stared at his phone as it illuminated the space and chased the darkness away. Schwoz felt so shy that he didn't see Ray return the elephant to (y/n), who blushed in the shadows when he delicately kissed her knuckles to soothe his heart; she was alright, he could see her again, and his prize for her was still cute and squishy if a little dusty. 

"Well, there's light now!" the girl snapped, referring to the beams coming from everyone's phones that showed the tunnel in its entirety and the Mole People huddled on one side of the room. 

"Sometimes it's just nice to be held," Schwoz smiled, appreciating the feel of someone's arms around him since he had never received many hugs. God knows his lady action was few and far between. However, his crawling need for attention was too much for Charlotte to handle when his face buried into her neck as if they were recreating a Ray-(y/n) couch-special, so she pushed him off her lap with a firm shove. 

"All right! Time to mash up some guacamole-y!" Ray growled, annoyed that the Mole People had tricked him like that, possibly endangering his family and the light at the centre of it--his sweet girl. That was unacceptable for him, and he stormed forward to grab the first freak he could and snap it in half when (y/n) looped her arms around his waist and pulled him back. 

"No--no, Ray! Stop! Everybody, just relax! Okay? Calm down!" she shouted, pushing herself before him so he'd stay away from their enemies. The Mole People halted their charge, and Ray didn't dare throw a punch out of fear that he'd accidentally hit her--that would break him. His chest heaved as her palm rested on it, keeping him steady as his heart thumped underneath her fingertips, ready to guide him through a battle should those miscreants put a foot out of line. 

"Ah! Terry, turn the lights down!" the Mole Queen groaned with her subjects as the combined light from the phone torches and relit lanterns made the critters squint and defensively curl up. They appeared to shun brightness like actual moles, which probably came from hundreds of years of living underground where the sun would never shine. 

"That's mole-like it," she sighed as the lights dimmed to a level that was easier on the eye for those with night vision, and the team kept their phones close now that they were the only things allowing them to see. 

"Now, why can't we just share the tunnels?" (y/n) proposed once everyone calmed down and she heard and felt Ray growling at the notion. She gave him a stern look, and he simmered down, willing to give peace a chance whilst the Mole People were amicable. 

"Yeah, there's gotta be a way for both of us to use these," Charlotte agreed, thinking that with a bit of negotiation, everyone could use the tunnels without any fighting or arguments. 

"Well, you could pay a mole tax," the leader suggested, much to the group's confusion. They didn't understand what she meant by a tax, although the smarties deduced that it probably involved some fee. 

"What?" Ray said, outraged at the notion of paying for the tunnels' usage when they were on his doorstep. No one told Captain Man where he could and couldn't walk, certainly not a pathetic, lowly Mole Person. 

"You pay us money. Every week  And we let you use the tunnels," the queen said, and her subjects nodded enthusiastically. That didn't sound too bad, although Ray's fury was growing by the second, and he wasn't sure if his sweet girl was enough to reign in his temper. The situation called for kisses and a quiet moment with just the two of them, but he couldn't have that. All because of the damn Moles. 

"Okay, how much?" Henry asked, wanting to hear the price before they agreed to anything. The tunnels were cool but not worth anything excessive, so they watched curiously as The Moles huddled together to discuss what they thought was fair. 

"Yo, okay, while they're talking--" the boy murmured to his boss, hoping to have a mini pow-wow whilst the Moles were busy since it had been a hot minute since they'd swapped opinions, but surprisingly, they didn't take long to agree. 

"We've made a decision!" the leader announced as she poked her head up from the huddle, and Henry faltered. There went his talk out of the window, and he remarked on how swift they'd been with their whispers and bartering. The Mole People didn't mess around, and he appreciated that; waiting around was tedious. 

"You can use our tunnels if you pay us...ten cents!" she told them, and the other Moles chattered at her offer. It must've been a lot of money for them, or maybe, they believed that the world's money was worth a lot more than it was, like in the olden days when ten cents paid for a lot more. The team blanched at the measly offer, thinking they were insane for giving the tunnels away like that, but they didn't complain or try to show their shock too much. 

"We...accept your offer," (y/n) told them in a calm, diplomatic voice that hid her internal fluttering. She knew Ray wasn't the type to negotiate without involving his fists, so with her hand in his, she accepted on behalf of the Man Cave with her friends in agreement; the hero always insisted that what was his was hers, making her the "other boss" once she became his wife if she wasn't that already. Hence, it was official, even if he didn't like it. 

"Great! Pay us now!" the tiny creature demanded harshly, stunning them at how she'd gone from sweet and friendly to a ruthless businesswoman in half a second. The question was, who had the right money?

"Now? Uh...I don't have any change. You guys got any change?" Henry turned to his friends, who immediately began patting down their pockets for their wallets. 

The teens had nothing, preferring to go cashless since they were modern and hip like that with their cell phones; Schwoz had no money whatsoever and had been going off freebies all day; (y/n) had a few ten-dollar bills and two twenties, enough to get them to Six Poles and possibly another Nacho Ball, but no coins. That left one...

"I've got ten cents!" Ray suddenly announced, loud and brash just as he always was. His friend looked at him sceptically, wondering if he meant that or if he was being coy in front of The Moles. The man paid for everything (y/n) wanted and, despite her insistence that she'd brought her purse, flashed his card and bills whenever the opportunity arrived. Did he mean it?

"I feel like you don't," Henry mentioned, analysing his boss' stony face and how his gaze didn't leave the ones he didn't trust. Just because he was the leader didn't make him responsible, and the boy felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as if he could sense the man making a terrible decision. 

"Sure I do," Ray replied, although he could look anyone - not even his sweet girl - in the eye when he did. He patted his pocket and took a step forward, sidestepping his fiancé after wrapping a gentle, warm hand around the back of her neck and squeezing as he walked past - a comfort she loved but also made her suspicious. 

"I've got ten cents right here in my pocket. Why don't one of you Mole People, who blew up my Man Cave, walk your little Mole feet over here and get it?" he suggested and whilst the Moles didn't get his passive aggressiveness, the others certainly did.

"Raymond, please don't do this right now," (y/n) hissed to him, holding onto the crook of his arm as if she could hold him back. Right now, he wasn't her adorable doofus or the man who stole her heart, he was the man-child who came with that, and she flustered at how embarrassing a situation he was creating for them, more so when a tentative Mole stepped forward to collect their debt. 

"That's right. I'm reaching into my pocket and pulling out a nice--"

"I'm begging you," she pleaded tiredly, rubbing her eyes as he slid his hand into his pocket and tightened it into a very visible fist. She didn't need her fancy degree to guess what he was about to do, and her temples tensed in what she knew was a developing migraine as he ignored her for revenge instead. 

"Shiny--"

"Oh, dear god," she whimpered, hiding her eyes through open fingers, not wanting to watch but unable to look away as the unsuspecting Mole got closer and closer. Ray smirked, ecstatic that the miscreant had fallen for it and was nearly within reach as his family grimaced behind him. He'd show these underground freaks what happened to those who blew up his home and almost took his precious future wife and friends with it. 

"Fist!" he shouted, and as the Mole cupped his hands for the payment, Ray yanked his out of his pocket and slugged him across the snout. 

It was a hard, powerful punch, strong enough to throw the small creature halfway across the cavern as his people gasped and squeaked at such an atrocity. They tittered about how the uplanders could do such a thing before Ray became vicious and rampaging, aiming for any Mole that dared cross his path, so they scattered for the safety of the tunnels they knew better than anyone else. 

"Ray, what are you doing?!"

"Raymond! Ray--oh, for god's sake!" His beloved fiancé sighed as he ran off to chase the Moles and possibly beat them up if he managed to catch them. Her exasperated stare met Charlotte's, who sympathetically patted her on the back as they waited for him to return. She knew the heroine loved him, but sometimes, his stupidity made it hard to see why - didn't she want to strangle him at times?

"You believe that stupid Mole guy thought I had a dime in my pocket?" Ray laughed as he sauntered back to the group, who, apart from Schewoz, shook their heads at his reckless behaviour. (y/n) did want to strangle him at times, which showed when he went to kiss her, only to be met with her cheek when she turned her head at the last second. 

"That was not cool!" Henry exclaimed as Ray's face fell for a minute. His girl's disapproving, almost disappointed expression wounded him, made his heart hurt more than he cared to let on, and made his childish act falter for a second before he pecked her cheek again and kept smiling. Punching a Mole guy wasn't a big deal; he could make it up to her later. 

"You just made enemies with the Mole People over ten cents!"

"Who cares? We won! And again, zero downsides," he smirked and donned his funny cowboy hat again. His eyes flickered to (y/n), and he held out his hand for her tentatively, wondering if she'd take it since he'd upset her; it wasn't looking very likely. But, to his surprise and the others, she did; not in the giggly, teenage school girl in love kind of way she usually did, more like straight-faced and stern as she began to pull him in the direction of home without so much of a second glance. 

"Y'know, it astounds me that you genuinely think you're right," she muttered as they briskly walked toward the exit, and she prayed that the Moles were in hiding long enough for them to make it out alive. Ray pouted, dragging his feet as she kept her eyes looking straight ahead, and behind them, the boys smirked. 

Watching a man take on a bunch of Mole People was entertaining, but seeing him get dragged off and scolded by a woman half his size was more so, especially when the mere thought of her attention and love left him crawling for forgiveness. What a simp. 

~Later, midnight, Ray and (y/n)'s bedroom~

*implied spice, but nothing explicitly mentioned (it's tasteful, I promise)*

Ultimately, she forgave him. How could she not? 

Upon their return to the Man Cave, Ray, the teens and Schwoz all laughed about how hilarious the fight had been and how they'd worried about the pesky critters seeking vengeance. 

When they thought about it, the whole thing seemed silly; the Moles were both physically and socially pathetic, so they'd probably stay hidden in their home for the rest of time now that they knew Captain Man wasn't afraid of dishing out some pain. And it was that fact that comforted them enough to brush away their concern and crack open a few sodas. 

A couple of hours passed, and (y/n) was still tight-lipped with her doofus, who kept trying to make her smile with stupid jokes and ridiculous pranks on Schwoz. He hated how she played stubbornly, holding her arms folded and staying separate from the festivities. All he wanted to do was drag her to the couch and snuggle as their family relaxed, hung out and nibbled the remaining Nacho Ball - so that's what he did. 

As he figured, (y/n) couldn't escape when he slung her over his shoulder, marched to the couch and locked her in a tight embrace, so she resigned to resisting his devilish charms and good looks as each laugh bubbled in her throat and then disappeared. In the end, he wore her down, making his lover laugh at his Mole Queen impression so much that her sides hurt, meaning that when Henry, Jasper and Charlotte left, they ran in the elevator to give them some privacy. 

Schwoz bid them goodnight, too, mumbling something about returning to a repair he was in the middle of, so the couple dimmed the lights and returned to their room. In between soft sheets, their hushed words and gasps pushed any thought of the vengeful glare of the Mole People away, and they found themselves far too busy to care about blocking the tunnel entrance as Ray rocked into his sweet girl and drowned in her pleasure. 

He made it up to her as he'd promised, and they fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms as they did every night, whispering their endless love before drifting off into a dreamless, undisturbed sleep. 

And then, the clock struck three. 

It was dark-- as pitch black as usual for three AM-- and (y/n) drifted in and out of consciousness as the minutes ticked away. Everything was hazy, dulled by exhaustion, and the only feeling grounding her to the waking world was Ray breathing hot air past her head and the gentle thrum of his heartbeat under her ear. Its rhythm was enough to lull her back to sleep, and she almost did, snuggling into his embrace to return to proper slumber when she heard it. 

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. 

The weirdest noise. Rationally, her brain thought nothing of it, writing it down as her imagination or the pipes and walls settling around them, and anyway, she was too tired to make a mountain out of a molehill. So, she ignored it and squeezed her eyes closed whilst inhaling deeply, determined to get some shuteye before work in the morning. But it didn't stop.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. 

Once, she could write down to chance; twice, and it could be a coincidence, but three times was a persistent, nagging problem and her mind refused to let it go. The more she thought about it, the more she woke up, thinking with tired cells and foggy synapses that it was odd because the sound sounded like something scurrying around to an awake person. 

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. 

Scurrying around. Scurrying around. Scurryin--dear god. Suddenly, she felt wide awake, and her eyes flew open as her senses sharpened to analyse what little she could make out. There was no light, so her eyes were useless, but in their absence, her ears opened up; there it was again - the sound of feet pit-pattering across the floor and...nails clacking together. Not something she'd hear in her bedroom. 

It was probably nothing, but her mind wouldn't rest until she checked--just in case--so she sat up on her elbows, drawing a few mumbled groans and whines from Ray as his subconscious recognised that the one who belonged in his arms was no longer on his chest. She stayed close, and his arms readjusted to her new position to limply hang off her bare body as his breathing evened out, and he returned to normal sleep, unlike his sweet girl. 

Squinting, the woman tried to make out the shapes of the room in the darkness; there were the doors to the closet and bathroom, the dresser, the vanity unit, a twitching figure, the hat stand, the shoe rack, the--

(y/n) gasped in terror as her eyes darted back to the small, spherical lump shuffling around the space at the foot of the bed, and she fumbled for the light switch on the wall by her bedside table. One flick of the switch illuminated the room, rousing Ray from his slumber with a confused grumble as the light revealed what was in their private bedroom - and it frightened the living daylights out of her. 

Her scream pierced the early hours of peace as a Mole Person - a real, genuine, fanged and clawed Mole Person - looked up at the petrified woman and snarled at her as she clutched the bedsheets to her naked chest. 

Ray woke with a start, jerking and sitting bolt upright as he panicked at her cry. He searched her face for injury or fear and felt his heart lurch and arms tighten around her when he saw her wide eyes, clammy skin and colourless pallor. Adrenaline outweighed his exhaustion, and he followed her gaze until he spotted the Mole, growling and pressing her body into the mattress as he loomed over her and prepared to rip its Moley head off for sneaking into his Man Cave in the dead of night. 

"What the f--" he spat in a sleep-heavy, gravelled voice, which drew a mischievous chuckle from the creature as it rubbed its rough hands together. The dark glint in its eye made the shaken heroine shiver and whimper, so it swiftly skipped out of the room before Ray could fling the blankets off and lunge across the room to squash it underfoot - for a reclusive species, they sure as hell knew when the mischief was over, and it was time to split. 

The Mole guy ran out of the door, much quicker than Ray as he leapt out of bed and flew to the door, stopping when he saw that it had booked down the corridor, heading for the getaway tunnel, and all in the two seconds it had taken him to move. Ragged breaths fell from his lips as he watched the inky dot disappear, and then, the past thirty seconds hit him. 

A Mole Person had broken into his bedroom and wreaked havoc judging by the half-open drawers across the room, and not only that; it had been his sweet girl who'd woken up to its mean eyes pinning her to the pillows from the fear they instilled. 

And as he stood there, leaning against the doorframe as the adrenaline peaked and his tiredness crept back in, it occurred to him that he was as nature intended, as bare as the day he was born--a fact he'd not noticed when the need to protect his sweet girl drove his every instinct. 

Oh, his sweet girl. He turned to her, and his shoulders sagged when he saw her flushed cheeks and watery eyes; no doubt her nerves were shot after such a rude awakening, but as she took in the magnificent sight he made, every muscle pulled tight, ready to fight without a stitch on him, her eyes widened for a different reason. 

"Ray..." she called, and all the air left his chest. Soft strands of hair fell around her face, framing it against the backdrop of the gaunt visage that came after such a shock, and he couldn't help but rake his eyes away from her beautiful profile to look elsewhere. 

The corner of cotton she'd used to preserve her modesty went slack against her chest since it was just them in the room now, and he melted at how she felt safe enough to let her guard down. The soft curve of her naked breast peeked from behind the fabric, so perfect and artisan that it reminded him of a marble statue - beautifully sculpted to be worshipped as flawless art imitating life. Only she breathed, lived, felt, quivered, and gasped for him, the man practically on his knees. 

He said nothing and closed the door, locking it in case that crazed, furry varmint returned to plague them again before gingerly walking to the bed. Her soft, concerned eyes watched his every move as he knelt on the edge of the mattress and climbed the length of the bed, his body engulfing hers with nothing more than a cotton sheet to separate them. 

His warmth brought the feeling of safety and reassurance, and when her shaking hands held onto his shoulders to keep him close, Ray couldn't help but swallow her whimpers with a kiss. He was gentle and slow, more concerned with her comfort than his need to soothe his anxiety that she'd come this close to harm, but when she begged for him to go faster and harder, to love her more and replace the worry with bliss, he couldn't say no. 

He'd never say no when he curled around her to keep any other horrors away and promised to keep her safe between hot groans and gasps, not when she, the woman who meant everything to him, welcomed the love he gave her.

In the middle of the night, it was one hell of a downside. 

~The following day, Junk-N-Stuff~

Following the traumatic incident of the Mole in their bedroom, Ray found himself determined to keep her close the next morning. They showered together, ate breakfast, dusted the main room together (although his mind and hands were on other things), and all because he saw how she peeked around every corner before entering a new space. 

Without a doubt, the Mole Guy spooked (y/n). Of course, she was strong and courageous, annoyed by her topsy-turvy tummy, and she hated how her hands trembled when she reached for her toothbrush as Ray shaved. 

She didn't fear the Moles, not in the slightest, not when they jumbled up her clothes in the wardrobe, and certainly not when she'd faced real monsters and villains like Drex or The Toddler. Her fear came from the uncertainty of something lurking around the corner; her nerves hated jump scares, and the idea that the pointy-nosed creatures could be hiding in dark rooms or behind furniture made her shaky - something her lover hated to see. 

He thought it wasn't right in their own home and vowed to reassure his sweet girl until Schwoz completed a full sweep of the Man Cave. In the meantime, they snuggled and laughed and worked side by side until his super special delivery came. 

His beautiful painting needed more light--as if (y/n) didn't hate seeing it without a massive spotlight making the oil paint sparkle. And whilst he was reluctant to leave her side, the damn thing was so big that Charlotte and Jasper couldn't manage it independently; they needed someone to dictate their movements to avoid breaking it. 

So, off he went upstairs, leaving his precious girl with Schwoz on her insistence that nothing would happen to her. She was in the Man Cave, the safest place in the city, and he'd only be a few minutes - what could happen?

"Not again! You're doing it all wrong!" he whined to the teens as the spotlight scraped against the wall for the fiftieth time. It cost a lot of money to buy, and he'd hate to see it break, so their clumsiness brought out his crabby side. 

"What are you talking about?" Charlotte asked indignantly and put the light down to save her strength. He was in a foul mood, and after hearing (y/n)'s tale about being visited in the dead of night, she understood why but hoped that he'd be a little more polite even with his anxiety high at leaving her to polish downstairs. 

"You two know nothing about art," he snapped, leading to an argument about right and wrong. Charlotte and Jasper argued that they were doing their best to help and that if he thought he knew better, he should do it himself. After all, looking at that monstrosity he'd ordered, he didn't know much about art either. 

"I've had enough of these Mole People!" Henry shouted as he appeared in the back room, stomping in and bringing another dark storm of a mood with him. He threw his empty coffee cup on the ground to make a point, silencing the bickering three as his yelling interrupted what they were "discussing".

"Not now. I got this big spotlight to show off my painting. I'm moving it down to the Man Cave," the man told his grumpy sidekick, who, like him, had experienced one hellish night thanks to the Mole People, and his lack of sleep resulted in a similarly prickly attitude and dark eye-suitcases. Henry wasn't impressed, but Ray was so proud, gazing at the light with almost as much love as he used when looking at (y/n). "Best eighty-thousand dollars I ever spent..."

"How much?!" Charlotte gasped after hearing his dreamy sigh. Her eyebrows flew to the ceiling at her frivolous spending of money and how relaxed he was about it; (y/n) would surely give him a stern talking to when someone let slip the secret. 

"All right, you got me. It was ninety-thousand, so don't tell (y/n)!" the hero grinned. The teens weren't sure if he was joking as he reached to the side to pick up a massive sack of batteries, which he gave to Charlotte, "but it includes this bad of four hundred double-A batteries it takes to power this baby!"

"Listen!" Henry butted in, exasperated that no one was listening to him when he'd experienced the Moles' revenge firsthand. "Dude, there were Mole People in my living room last night!"

"Mole People are the worst!" Ray laughed at the boy's pain, earning him several dry looks, one since it was no laughing matter and two because he'd been in a parallel situation. He didn't laugh when (y/n) was terrified in the bed last night, clinging to him for comfort as her heart pounded in her chest, so Jasper and Charlotte didn't know why he was laughing. 

"Didn't you have Mole People in your bedroom last night? And they freaked (y/n) out?" the girl asked flatly, and the laughter ended. Henry gave him a questioning look, at which Ray sighed and looked pensive for a few seconds as if he was thinking about how he would handle his explanation. Henry's inconvenience was funny but seeing his sweet girl lose sleep was awful and not the same. 

"Yeah, but that's different. Y'know, she gets nervous, and it's not like they'll come back now they've had their bit of fun," he replied with a slight shrug, his bounce and mocking tone retreating as the serious conversation crept in. He didn't joke about her fiancée's safety and comfort, so as they stepped into the elevator with the spotlight, he felt confident they'd done everything to scare the Moles away. 

"Everything is oooo-kay!"

But it wasn't. The trip down to the Man Cave was fairly pleasant since he pressed that no clawed beings had appeared after the first incident, so no one suspected anything wrong. They chatted about everything and nothing, taking extra time to mock their boss for his excessive spotlight choice before stepping out with their heavy load. 

With the batteries and light in tow, Charlotte and Jasper barely had enough breath to live, let alone laugh, and Ray distracted himself by ensuring that it wasn't bashed or nudged on the way out. Henry shadowed him closely, mithering about how the Moles needed to be dealt with and taught a lesson, something his boss wasn't interested in at that moment. 

"All right, so what are we gonna do? I can't have Mole People in my house!" he asked as he followed them out of the elevator, eyes on Ray, who watched the other teens with equal attention. 

"See? This is why I refuse to negotiate with tunnelists," Ray replied causally and fiddled with his light as Jasper deposited it in the middle of the room whilst Charlotte dumped the hefty bag of batteries against the couch. They were so busy that no one noticed how poor Schwoz was in a pickle across the room, fighting for freedom because he had seen things.

Strangely, he was sitting on his tool cabinet - the one he dragged around when making repairs - and was restrained by several earthy, root-like vines circling his body, pinning his arm to his body. A torn rag gagged him, making speech impossible as he willed them to look at him, not because the vines felt like thorns poking through his overalls but because someone was missing. 

"Uh, Ray?" Jasper said hesitantly as he was the first to notice the captured genius and immediately knew that the boss had to know, even if he didn't like to be disturbed. 

"Yeah?" he replied, ignorant to what was happening since he was in his own happy world, fiddling with his light before he pointed it at the painting. It was strange how he hadn't noticed its disappearance or how (y/n) had wandered off somewhere, but all he thought about was how he couldn't wait to show her. So when he looked to see Schwoz inconveniently tied up, he wasn't best pleased. 

"Quit messin' around, Schwoz. We gotta light my painting!" he told him, thinking that the weird, flaxen twine was his idea of a joke or that he was crying for attention when they needed to focus on the greatest masterpiece since Van Gogh's Starry Night. Charlotte trotted over to help slide the gag from around his mouth, and as she did, Henry noticed something peculiar. 

"Uh, where is your painting, dude? And come to think of it, where's (y/n)?"

"Huh?" Ray frowned at the boy's question, wondering what he meant by it. The painting was right where it had always been with his sweet girl; in the Man Cave, safe and sound, where he'd left it and her. But as Henry looked around, he knew that assumption wasn't valid because the unmissable painting was gone, and the Goddess depicted in it too. 

"Where is your painting, dude? And where's (y/n)? She's not here," the boy repeated, and as Ray glanced around the room, he realised he was correct. The artwork had been next to the elevator, and he couldn't believe that he hadn't noticed its absence, but he couldn't forgive himself for not sensing his lover was gone. 

Of course, she wasn't there to greet him when they came down, and if she wasn't with Schwoz, then she must've disappeared. After all, the Mole frightened her, so she wanted to seek comfort in someone else's company whilst he was gone. Knowing that he hadn't realised something was wrong made a heart-string snap as he frantically began to look around the room. 

"The Mole People stole your painting and kidnapped (y/n)!" Schwoz revealed sorrowfully as Charlotte removed the gag. He gave Ray his most sympathetic look as the teens froze because they knew that whilst he liked his painting, he loved his darling girl even more. 

Ray looked from his handyman to the gaping hole that led to the tunnels, which The Moles had extended by chiselling two thin lines at the top and bottom to fit the picture through. Those dirty, low-down, no-good freaks stealing a man's painting was one thing, but kidnapping his lover was unforgivable, especially when he'd nearly lost her once and swore never to let her go again. 

The teens just hoped he didn't explode from the scarlet flush rising from underneath his collar. 

"Those Mole People just crossed a line," he growled, feeling nothing but pure hatred towards the mischievous beasts as he pictured them gagging, tying and forcing his sweet girl to enter the tunnels; oh, she must've been so scared, and the thought of her sobbing in the darkness as those imps taunted her made him see red. The painting was nothing, but she was everything. 

"Oh, but they didn't when they went into my house?" Henry scoffed, miffed that he cared about their antics now that it affected him, but he cared too. (y/n) was a sister to him, and he feared for her safety with the Moles since no one was friends, but when she was threatened, Ray turned into his hard-head, overprotective mode. 

"No."

"So, now that you're personally affected, you're gonna help solve the problem?" Charlotte asked, also concerned for the friend that named her chief bridesmaid, but dear god, the woman's fiancé was so pigheaded at times. 

"Yes," Ray replied huskily, willing to do anything if it meant having his sweet girl in his arms again. 

"You want me to cancel your eleven-thirty couple massage?" Schwoz asked slowly. Ray requested the massage when he saw how stressed his darling girl was that morning and thought that surprised her with a spontaneous, private pampering session would be enough to soothe her nerves. He never imagined it would have to be cancelled for something like this, but if necessary, he'd do it. He'd do anything for (y/n).

"Yes."

"There's a ten-dollar cancellation fee," the genius advised, knowing how frugal Ray was with his funds. He loved to spoil his lover, and with his money, not the bursary the city gave Captain Man for crimefighting, he'd paid over one hundred bucks to book the appointment when the wedding still loomed over him. What would she say when he inevitably brought her home?

"Then, no," the hero quickly changed his mind, much to his friends' amusement. He didn't want to cut corners, but every cent counted towards making his wedding day the best experience he could for the woman who deserved everything. It was okay; he'd march in there, demand her return, cut down anyone in his path, and have her home in time to ease her worries with warm oil and lavender-scented candles.

"I'm off to get my wife," he growled, inhaling deeply before releasing a deep battle cry. His helpers looked at him strangely as he yelled, clenching every muscle in his body until he reached a climax and took off running. The hero disappeared into the tunnel, leaving them alone since he had made up his mind - the only thing that mattered was retrieving the person stolen from him. 

Henry paused for a second, baffled by the man's rash, reckless charge into the unknown. (y/n) was a tough girl, and he didn't doubt that if she was in trouble, she could take care of herself. But he ran after Ray all the same, desperate to ensure that he didn't do anything stupid or offensive as his comically long scream continued to echo down the shaft as he kept running and running and running. 

Deep in the tunnels, a person might assume that, after her kidnapping, (y/n) would be in grave danger. However, being marched away from her home wasn't all bad. Well, being prodded by sharp claws and being called a giant land walker was slightly insulting, but apart from that, her time with The Moles was pleasant. 

After tying Schwoz up, they'd demanded her as a ransom, arguing that the hulking, hairy man who'd frightened them didn't care for money, jewels, land or power so that they couldn't use those against him. However, following their brief mooch around the Man Cave - their mission in the dead of night - they figured he was particularly fond of the fancy drawing in his stone cave and even more of his pretty lady friend. 

So, she was taken along with the painting and went willing to avoid their pointy teeth and possibly rabid bite. Their throne room was deep underground, a hidden sanctum in the centre of all the tunnels and where she was placed before the queen, who told her that land walkers should be seen and not heard. And preferably not seen either, but that was unavoidable. 

Sitting on a small, uncomfortable tuffet in front of the queen and near the oil painting, (y/n) waited for rescue, praying that Schwoz was okay and the others had discovered the truth - and that she didn't die of boredom in the meantime. Small talk passed between her and the Mole Queen, but it quickly died when the heroine realised that she had no fondness for those who stole her tunnels, so things went quiet--until Ray, of course. 

Suddenly, he charged into the throne room, still crying at the top of his voice, so they heard him before spotting him. She grinned at the thought of being reunited with her doofus and noticeably sat straighter as he athletically sprinted past the Mole group. It amazed everyone how he could run and not breathe for so long. 

"We've been waiting--" the Mole Queen smirked, ready to battle with the strange man, whether with fists or words, and she had her speech perfectly planned out...when he kept going. Ray didn't stop when he ran past the Moles; in fact, (y/n) felt confident that he didn't notice them or her as the dirt blurred from his speed, leaving her, the queen and her subjects bitterly disappointed and confused. 

"That was weird, right? Did he not see us?" the leader asked, turning to her people and the flowery-smelling woman sitting at her feet. She was his mate, the one he'd defended fiercely when Maurice snuck into their hibernating quarters to investigate and annoy them. He'd reported that the male nearly ripped him to pieces if it wasn't for his light-footed escape, so maybe she had an answer. 

"It's difficult for him to see anything when he gets excited," (y/n) told them with a nervous smile and breathy laugh since she made her lover sound like a Labrador and was thankful when the Mole Queen left it at that. No one ever understood Ray's oddness, and she figured his enemies would understand even less why she picked him out of the other seven billion land walkers on the surface. 

"Should we go get him?" A Mole Guy asked, to which his queen shrugged and (y/n) shook her head.

"No, he'll work it out eventually," the woman replied and twisted the engagement ring on her finger as they waited for Ray to realise his mistake. 

The way the light caught the diamonds fascinated the critters, and after kidnapping her, the Mole Queen offered her a single tunnel in exchange for the pretty shiny thing. It was a fair bargain, but one (y/n) refused respectfully once she'd pretended to think about it. All she told them was that it was more precious to her than any of them could imagine, and she wouldn't give it up for anything except a wedding ring. 

"Sorry about that! Didn't see you that first time," Ray unexpectedly announced as he stumbled into the cave again. His eye had caught the soft pastel colour of his lover's dress, and the scent of her perfume decreased once he moved away, so he knew he'd made an error. "Hey, sweet girl--you okay?"

"Yeah, doofus, I'm fine. The question is, are you okay?" the heroine replied, less concerned about how worried he must've been after finding her missing and more about how he wheezed after each breath. Running and shouting like that took his breath away once, and seeing her sitting and glowing like an angel in the candlelight stole it twice. 

Ray wanted to answer; he really did, but his body begged for oxygen before it allowed his heart to love, so he doubled over and panted as Henry jogged onto the scene. 

"They've got your painting! And (y/n)!" the boy exclaimed as he skidded to a halt and saw the bizarre picture next to his friend, who gave a little wave to show she was unharmed. Honestly, Ray hadn't even seen the painting until she mentioned it; his priority was finding his precious girl and bringing her home, although the artwork was lovely too. 

"I know--how are you not out of breath?" the man asked his sidekick since he could barely gaze upon his lover, let alone inspect his masterpiece for scratches. His eyes just wanted to stay shut as his lungs burned. 

"I just didn't scream the whole way here," Henry told him as if it was child's play, and technically, it was. Ray was a child, and it was a wonder how, as a superhero, he hadn't worked these things out before. 

"It was for dramatic effect!" Ray argued, his breathing slowly evening with each ragged inhale he took. He turned to (y/n), happy to see her smiling after such an ordeal, and when she smiled in return, the rest of the room disappeared. 

"And it worked," she added with a smirk, challenging his smouldering gaze with a naughty glint in her eye that left Henry grimacing and the Moles confused. What did she mean by that? All they knew was that the scary man seemed to soften for a moment and took a step closer to his lover as if an invisible string had pulled him along. 

"Now, gimme back my fiancée and my painting, Hairy Poppins!" he demanded, reaching to pull (y/n) into his arms as he stumbled closer, and she stood up. She looked delighted to be reunited and welcomed his touch once their foreheads connected in an intimate embrace that the Mole Queen tolerated for a split second before realising that the girl and painting were under her jurisdiction now. 

"Ah-ah-ah! One more step, and we'll tear your beloved female limb from limb and your painting to shreds!" she threatened, ordering her Mole guards to brace their claws against the canvas and drag (y/n) from his arms. 

Ray didn't have time to hold onto her and sucked in a sharp gasp as their claws pressed against his girl's throat and cheek. Of course, she wouldn't be hurt, but even so, he didn't call their bluff, and he wouldn't dare risk a pretty hair on her head nor a square centimetre of his painting. 

"Oh, my sweet girl--don't you touch her! Or it!" he whimpered before growling, itching to rip that clever grin from her snout, but he kept his nerve. One wrong step and they might act on that threat, and with her eyes bleeding into his with fear hidden behind them, he couldn't bear to see either scratched, so he took a step back and returned to Henry's side. 

"Listen," the boy started, willing to negotiate on his boss' behalf since he was better at it and unwilling to see all hell break loose if the painting was damaged, or worse, (y/n), "what if we promise never to use the tunnels again? Okay? Will you give us our friend and painting back and stop coming into our houses in the middle of the night?"

"No! We no longer trust humans! Not since your friend broke our last deal," the Mole Queen replied and narrowed her gaze at Ray, who shuffled from foot to foot awkwardly. Yeah, that hadn't been his best idea and seeing his lover in such a vulnerable position made him feel guilty. 

"He said he had a dime in his pocket, but then, he punched Terry!" one Mole reminded them, pointing to his friend with a large, purplish bruise on his nose. His voice was so crabby, insulting and accusing that Ray didn't care for it, and even though it had ended in chaos the last time, he found himself eager to deal out some just-deserved pain. 

"You know, I feel really bad about that," he told Terry in a tone that would sound genuinely remorseful for most, but to those who knew him well, it was seriously fake. (y/n) knew how he sounded when penitent and apologetic; they'd been down that path many times before. She knew that his eyes got glossy, and he never knew what to say, so the words were always choked and punched, not smooth and concise as they were now. 

"You know, I feel like you don't," Henry turned and eyed him suspiciously. 

Like earlier, he felt that his boss was playing dumb, not because he knew how the man behaved during an actual apology, but because he knew that Ray Manchester never apologised to anyone. No one but (y/n) (y/l/n) had that privilege and maybe sometimes his helpers, but certainly, not a Mole Person, which went against everything he stood for. 

"But I've actually got an apology right here in my pocket," he went on and stuck his hand in his jean pocket, much to the exasperation of his sidekicks and the annoyance of the queen. Seriously? The same trick again? Please, as if they were all that stupid. 

"Oh god, Raymond..."

"So, if you come a little closer, I'll give it to you," the hero promised the small, naive Mole, who shuffled toward him against the advice of his friends, who squeaked that they could not trust the human. Oh boy, he'd give it to him all right, and it made (y/n) sad to think about how her enraged doofus was taking advantage of his trusting nature. 

"Terry! Don't fall for it again! What is wrong with you?!" the Mole Queen snapped and sighed at her gullible subject, who hung his furry head in shame and walked off after recognising that the man was playing him for a fool. He scurried back to his friends as Henry calmed his boss, quietly promising they'd figured everything out, but not with a fight. He hoped. 

"So, how are we gonna fix this? Huh?" he asked the crowned Mole, who didn't need time to think since the monarch had plotted her revenge down to the last detail.

"I'll tell you how. The Mole Way," the lady Mole replied, and the others started whispering and tapping their claws excitedly at her suggestion, which sent a shiver down Ray's spine. She sounded mysterious, piquing the hero and sidekick's interest in this so-called Mole Way. 

"That does not tell me how," Henry said, fishing for more details before the queen went on. 

"One of us fights one of you!" she declared, much to Ray's delight; he immediately began lumbering up for a brawl, rolling his shoulders and jogging on the spot as a warm-up for the fight for his sweet girl's return. And the painting, of course. 

"Winner gets the tunnels, the girl, and the painting. Loser goes home and cries to his mama."

"Okay, sure. Fine. Whatever," Henry conceded and ignored the giggling Moles around him. He became more interested in who the heavyweight hero behind him would punch so he could phone an ambulance in advance. After all, he wouldn't stop until he obliterated every Mole for toying with the woman who held his heart. "Who's Ray fighting?"

"No, no, no, not him. We're scared of him," she said, glancing at Ray, who smirked at the idea of intimidating the Moles so quickly--how it should be, in his opinion. "We want to fight you."

"Yeah!" The Mole People around the queen started cheering and jeering at Henry, who frowned and stared at her majesty with wide, shocked eyes. Him? Why him? Why not the man they hated?

Henry made for a much weaker target than his boss, who was a walking mountain on muscle hellbent on revenge; the kid was puny, so the creatures didn't see him as such a significant threat. They would be surprised when he let loose his Kid Danger skill and power, something handed down from the one they feared, so the boy wasn't nervous but more raring to go. 

"Okay, sure. Fine. Whatever. Who am I fighting?"

" You sure about this, kid?" Ray asked him, worried about whether he could take some bare-knuckle slugs because he was still a mere sidekick, not the experienced, thick-skinned fighter he was. And they were fighting for his fiancée and his painting, so it was Ray's duty to go into battle and not to send him in as a human meat shield. But Henry was adamant. 

"Dude, I got this. I mean, they're Mole People," the teen promised and gave the couple a solemn, firm nod to show that he would do this. (y/n) meant so much to him, and hey, they couldn't be that bad. 

"You will fight...our champion!" the Mole Queen told him, making the fight seem ominous from how she hyped their corner, but Henry still didn't worry. Even a champion Mole sounded pathetic, and in his head, he imagined some small, defenceless creature that had won a few scraps in the past, which would impress their queen but not a human. 

"Swole Mole! Swole Mole! Swole Mole!" Every Mole started chanting, even the queen, which, by royal standards, was slightly uncouth. The trio waited awkwardly as they waited for this champion. They sounded pretty excited, but they couldn't work out what they were chanting, let alone why he was so good. 

"What the hell is a Swole Mole?" (y/n) pondered aloud and looked to her lover to see if he had any ideas, but like her, he was clueless. However, their questions were answered when a grunting Mole emerged from a narrow tunnel, clawing for his opponent, who shrank back at the sight of him. 

That Mole was, without a doubt, Swole. His muscles bulged underneath his hairy arms, and foam gathered around his mouth when his teeth gnashed to sink into Henry; the only thing stopping him was the crisscrossed chains across his chest and two other Moles holding him back. The crowd cheering seemed to entice and rile him up to the point of savagery, at which point Henry drew the line. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! You never told me you had a Swole Mole!" he exclaimed, accusing the Mole Queen of telling him some kind of white lie--trickery, in other words. He gulped as his beefy opponent released a war cry, his fists curled into solid lumps that could probably dent steel, perhaps even give Captain Man a run for his money. 

"Oh...are you scared?" the ruler mocked, which Henry could deny all he wanted, but she saw through him. Even in the darkness, he looked so pale and twitchy and constantly looked back to his leader for reassurance, not that the man could give him much since he wasn't fighting. Not so tough now, huh?

"No!... Actually, I am very scared," the teen privately whispered to Ray, avoiding (y/n)'s eyes since he didn't want her to worry, but in truth, he debated chickening out. On the one hand, he didn't want to be pulverised, but on the other, he knew the man would never forgive him if he didn't do his bit to save her, which was about to get a lot harder. 

"You will also have to fight--blindfolded!" the queen giggled and held up two rags to be tied around both fighters' eyes. For Henry, it would mean losing arguably his most valuable sense, but for the Swole Mole, it didn't make much of a difference. They lived in darkness and were specially adapted to it, giving him yet another advantage on home turf. 

"Oh, come on!" he grumbled and threw his hands up. Things had gone from bad to worse and then to abysmal as Ray put a hand on his shoulder with a stoic expression. 

"Looks like you're gonna have to fight, kid," he said softly and tried not to break when his sidekick gave him a betrayed look. He didn't like the sound of an unfair fight either, and he knew that he was asking a lot of him, but it was for the best of reasons. In his head, his sweet girl would always be the best of reasons. 

"Don't make him if he doesn't want to. I can look after myself, Raymond," (y/n) said sternly, and her doofus pouted at her refusal to be saved. It wasn't that she was stubborn or averse to being rescued, but more like she hated to be the one everyone made sacrifices for, so if Henry didn't want to fight, that was fine. As she said, she wasn't weak; somehow, she'd escape the Moles' snare. 

"But--"

"No buts! I don't want to see him get hurt because of me. We'll work something else out," she instructed them, and from the sharp edge in her voice, Ray typically would've left it at that. However, for the first time, it wasn't good enough, so he turned to his sidekick, willing to beg and grovel for one brief moment. 

"Ray..." he sounded so unsure, torn--in pain--as if he was pulled in different directions; one aside to think selfishly and make a hasty retreat before the two handlers lost control of the rabid Mole, whilst the other called out to his mercy, reminding him that this wasn't any friend they were talking about, this was (y/n). The friendliest, kindest, loveliest girl on the planet. The elder sister he never got. 

"Please, kid. She means everything to me," Ray whispered, his voice cracking as tears sprang in his eyes from the mere thought of losing her so foolishly--and Henry couldn't take it. He patted his boss's hand as it lay on his shoulder and released a long sigh. His heart had won, and he refused to see two lovers torn apart for something so stupid or his friend wrongfully incarcerated. 

(y/n) blinked as the kid ordered the assistant moles to blindfold him, taking their rough treatment on the chin since he knew they would always treat him poorly and the Swole Mole like a king. The heroine couldn't believe he'd do that for him; neither could she believe that her lover, whose pride was as big as entire states, had pushed aside his stubbornness and said the P-word. 

He never said it to anyone else but her, and it melted her heart to know that he took her safety that seriously and valued his sidekick more than he let on. Henry was one in a million, and although he never said it, Ray adored him, as proved when he helped him tie the knot and leaned close to his ear. 

"Thank you," he whispered, and the boy could swear his hair stood on end. No thanks or ta or something as nonchalant as that, but a genuine, heartfelt thank you that came from the heart as he held onto the kid's shoulders and faced him in the right direction. The Swole Mole was ready to go, pulling at his chains as Henry cracked his knuckles. 

Showtime; time to save Ray's soulmate. 

"Fight!" the Mole Queen shouted above the yells and whoops of her keen citizens, who, if they used it, would've bet all their money on their man. Even without his sight, the Swole Mole's footing was so much better than Henry's, who plodded around the cavern--"ring"--like a drunk man on his way home. 

He was lost, utterly out of his depth, and failing from the get-go as he took two swings in the direction he could hear the Mole breathing, only to miss each time it sensed the movement in the air and ducked. His whiskers meant he didn't need to see, and with the boy blind, the muscular fighter took his chance, swinging at Henry's shoulder with immense power. 

He groaned upon impact and swore his bones crushed after the effect, resulting in him bending over to stave off the pain. 

"Try using your other sense to fight! Like, feel or smell!" Despite his best efforts, Ray suggested from the sidelines, which wasn't particularly helpful. The queen refused to allow him near (y/n), who watched through her fingers as Henry shuffled across the dirt and fought terribly, so he was as close as he could get. But it wasn't enough. Nothing would be, not until he got to hold, kiss, and love her again. 

"I can't smell punches, dude!" the sidekick replied roughly, throwing his fists through the air, hoping he'd hit something, only to come up empty each time. He only felt the Swole Mole land an uppercut to his stomach, causing crippling pain to spread through his intestine and him to keel over to combat it. 

"Can you feel him?" Ray asked dumbly, unsure whether to ask since the kid looked busy, but he did anyway. Maybe his other senses were sharpening or something. 

"Yeah, I can feel a lot of them," Henry groaned, and as he slowly got to his feet, he got the sense that Kid Danger had met his match. No matter his move or tactic, the Mole outsmarted and outmanoeuvred him, resulting in a one-sided pasting. 

"I'm in real trouble here! This Mole's too swole!" he called to Ray, (y/n) or anyone who might be willing to help as he took a few more swings in his target's general direction. He dodged every time, and as Henry floundered, the Mole took him down to the ground in a rough body tackle with his friends clapping and cheering and Ray throwing his hands up in despair. 

The Mole respectfully climbed a couple steps on the queen's throne, nudging (y/n) on her tuffet on the way past, which made Ray growl lowly in his throat. However, the situation worsened when the warrior jumped from the throne and landed on top of Henry, flattening him like a pancake as the impact settled in his poor, bruised stomach. 

He rolled off to leave the sidekick groaning on the floor, and Ray looked around nervously as he fought every instinct to jump in and help. 

"I think your painting will look great in our tunnels. And I'm sure your lady friend will be happy staying with us...forever," her royal highness mocked Ray, who immediately became defensive as he thought about the prospect of forever. No, they were meant to live happily and grow old into retirement, married and forever in love. Leaving her here was not an option, and (y/n) wasn't too keen either. 

"No, she won't! I love her, and she belongs in the Man Cave!" he growled and nearly stormed up to meet the queen's eye as she smirked. Deep down, he knew that she was trying to get a rise out of him and that it would be best to not react since he could see by (y/n)'s unamused face that she wasn't eager to live miserably for the rest of her life, but he couldn't help it. The idea of someone coming between him and his happily ever after made him feral. 

"Yeah, and his painting wouldn't look good in here. The lighting is terrible," the woman piped up, speaking in a dry, sarcastic tone as she turned around to give the ruler her most unamused face. Of course, she didn't care for the painting or whether it looked good; for all she cared, they could keep it and leave her to go home with her beloved doofus, who she had no intention of leaving. 

"I can take care of that." A mysterious voice suddenly announced, and everyone whipped around to see Charlotte standing there smugly with Jasper and Ray's fancy new spotlight by her side. Their presence trapped the moles from escaping, and shortly, they'd use their greatest weakness against them because after witnessing a fragment of Henry's fight, they knew the heroes needed the cavalry. 

"Ready?" Jasper whispered to her, his finger on the switch to illuminate the light since they figured the Moles wouldn't hate anything more. 

"Light 'em up!" the girl nodded, eager to see the critters scatter so her friends could escape, and Jasper did as she said. 

The result was instantaneous; the spotlight reminded her of a collapsed sun as the previously dark clearing became bright and sunny--the sort of environment the Moles despised. They shielded their eyes and squealed, including the queen, who quickly hopped off her throne to try and get somewhere dark, which made for a fantastic result, yet it wasn't what Ray focused on. 

Despite the chaos, he'd instantly turned to check on his sweet girl, wanting to make sure she wasn't hit or hurt, but the sight in front of him stole his breath away. She was sitting next to the painting, so both caught the light most perfectly; the picture shimmered under its rays as a halo appeared around (y/n) and caught her eyes to make them glow. A goddess more beautiful than the art next to her, and she didn't even know it. 

"Doofus, what's wrong?" she asked, seeing his awestruck, gormless face and watery eyes, and for a moment, she thought something was seriously wrong--wrong enough to forget how that damn light hurt her eyes. 

"You're beautiful..." he breathed out, and she didn't know how to react. He was wonderstruck and utterly entranced by her and how the painting boosted her beauty. Her form in oil paint was gorgeous, and he loved how it looked, but he loved her more, especially when she took her chance to sneak away from her seat and reunite with him. 

"Dork," she giggled and practically jumped into his arms after crossing the cavern without the fear of The Moles looming over her. They made a sweet sight, sharing brief, fleeting kisses that would've been longer had they not been overexcited to see each other again. His hands trailed down her waist, keeping her close as he pecked her temple, forehead, nose, cheek--anywhere he could since his enemies were retreating. 

"What's happening?" The Swole Mole asked, but when he lifted his blindfold, he wished he'd kept it down. The light blinded him immediately, and he recoiled so much that he fell to the ground, seemingly pinned by brightness and the pain it brought. 

"Hey, Hen!" Jasper sauntered up and patted his best friend on the shoulder, thinking nothing of it. In his mind, the danger had gone for his friend, so his guard should've been down, which sadly wasn't the case. Henry felt the tap and assumed the Swole Mole had returned for round two, so he turned and swung his fist, hitting Jasper in the jaw with all his might. 

It would've been impressive had he actually hit the right target. 

"Yeah! I got him! I defeated Swole Mole!" the sidekick yelled as he pulled down the rag around his eyes to see his enemy groaning on the floor. Charlotte shut off the light, and Henry didn't realise that it had been that which took him down. Ray and (y/n) separated, taking their eyes off each other for a moment to giggle at how pleased he sounded, although Jasper lying on the floor was a pretty big clue. 

"Actually, Charlotte just blinded everybody with Ray's OTT spotlight," the heroine replied, happily staying in her lover's arms as she teased him for buying something so extra and expensive for one purpose. If only she knew that he preferred to see her in the light than the painting, even if exquisite brushstrokes owned a tiny part of his heart. 

"And you punched Jasper," the girl added, gesturing to the boy whose face now felt particularly sore. Henry couldn't believe it; he could swear he'd sensed the right person--Mole--thing. 

"Oh, sorry, man. Your face is very mole-like in the dark."

"Right?" Ray agreed with the boy, having had that brief experience earlier. His hand patted (y/n)'s butt as she thumped his chest, trying to keep his jokes in check that failed when he kissed her neck and ignored the warming. She'd let it slide, just this once. 

"But hey!" Henry grinned, eager to get them to cut it out before he threw up, "we got our tunnels back!"

"Yeah!" his friends cheered, realising that he was right. The tunnels were theirs again because, with the spotlight, they seriously doubted if The Moles would try any tricks again. The light was their power; with it, they could get around the city in no time, unchallenged, not to mention that they'd quashed The Moles' attempts to ruin the Man Cave's harmony. 

"And my painting, but more importantly, my darling girl," Ray added, causing (y/n) to look up at him with a broad smile and bring him in for a short but sweet kiss. The kids smiled at that, happy to see him content again and their friend safely in one piece, even if the longevity of the smooch made them grimace. 

"All right. That's kind of cool...

"Sure," they replied, nodding politely since they didn't want to encourage their already touchy-feely relationship, but deep down, nothing was cuter. They embodied what every couple dreamed of being; in love, happy and totally devoted to one another. One kiss couldn't hurt. 

"Look, why don't we celebrate by putting (y/n) down and taking our tunnels to Nacho Ball?" Henry suggested, and his boss pulled back with a pouting frown that made (y/n) chuckle. He let up, though, too happy to be mad for long, readily agreeing with the others since it had been an entire day since he'd bought his sweet girl some takeout, and he was getting itchy. 

"Wait--" Charlotte said above their raucous noise, not because she was a party pooper, but because the Swole Mole was still lying on the floor, semi-conscious after going one round with the collapsed sun. "What should we do with him?"

"Ah, leave him. He's gotta go home and cry to his mama!" Ray taunted the Mole, spitting out the last word, so it stung, which felt satisfying for a split second until the savage animal lashed out. He didn't like what the human insinuated and didn't lie there and take the mockery of him and his people without a fight. 

"Mole People never cry!" he growled in a demonic voice, echoing what his counterpart had shouted when they blew up the Man Cave. In a similar reckless stunt, he crawled to a boulder and lifted it like a hatch, revealing that it wasn't real; the inside was hollow and hid a red lever that reminded (y/n) of those in cartoons that blew up dynamite. Oh, god...

"If we can't have our tunnels, no one will!" he screamed and pushed the lever down, much to the group's fear and confusion. They had no idea what it did, but they didn't have to wait long to find out, making a pretty good guess as the tunnels began to shake to quiet rumbling noise. 

"What is that?" Ray asked lowly, although he didn't want anyone to answer. He wanted silence so his ears could pinpoint the noise, which sounded like a lot of booming noises coming from deep under their feet--and it was heading upwards, downwards, any direction, it was coming. 

"What's going on?"

"Should we, like, run?" Charlotte suggested, feeling uneasy since no one answered Henry. She couldn't explain what was happening, but the noise didn't inspire her with confidence. Her brain told her to run, and she was going to listen unless everyone else argued against that, which looked unlikely as the ground began to quiver underneath them. 

"They're blowing up the tunnels!" (y/n) gasped as dust fell from the ceiling, and if she didn't hate the heavily enclosed space before, she definitely did now. Being buried alive was not her idea of fun, and she grasped Ray's hand out of comfort and the drive to tug him to safety; the protective instinct worked for both of them. 

"Let's get outta here!" Jasper shouted, edging towards the exit with his friends and (y/n) herded them in that direction. They were her priority; after all, she was meant to keep them safe as their employer, but she couldn't--wouldn't leave without Ray, who, for all his love for her, wouldn't leave his art behind. He'd paid too much for it; in his mind, staying back was feasible. 

"No, not without my painting!" he argued, earning many flabbergasted looks since the kids thought he'd be more worried about (y/n). The truth was, he knew she was a competent superhero, and with Henry by her side, she had enough protection to make it out safely, meaning he could focus on the final piece of his heart left behind. 

"Who cares about the fucking painting, Raymond?!" the woman snapped, beckoning him to leave before the dirt ceiling came down on top of them, but he steadfast refused, taking offence at her tone. 

"I do!"

"It's ugly as hell, and we have bigger things to worry about, so stop being a doofus and let's go!"

"No!" Ray shouted and folded his arms, much to her frustration and anger. She knew he could be a child, but she didn't think it would go this far, just like he never thought she'd call his second baby ugly. And when Ray got angry, he got stupid, and when he got stupid, he got mouthy, and mouthiness meant he said stuff he didn't mean or asked for things he didn't want. 

"Look, if you're not gonna help me carry it, then--then just leave me here!" he told her harshly, waving her off with a screwed-up expression that would be more apt on a toddler's face than a grown man's, so she didn't let his blatant dismissal get to her too much. 

He didn't want to leave him alone; after spending half the afternoon trying to get her back, he wanted nothing more than for her to stay, but he knew she wouldn't. He was being difficult, and right now, there was no time for an argument - her priority was the children, not soothing his hurt ego. 

"You don't have to tell me twice! Come on, guys!" she replied, taking one last good look at him as if she was committing the image of him to memory before she ushered the teens back down the tunnel to the Man Cave with nothing more than a wave and blown kiss. He hated seeing her go and cursed his stupid heart when his arm reached out to try and coax her back. 

"Huh... I did not think they were gonna do that," he mumbled, having thought they'd at least begged him to think it through. His sweet girl departed because he'd asked her to--no surprise there, and the only comfort he could find was by catching the kiss she blew and holding it to his chest as the rumbling increased. 

As he glanced at the painting, the situation went from bad to worse as the roof began to crumble, causing a boulder to land on his head at a tremendous speed. Ray fell to the ground with a throbbing skull, alone and dizzy since his friends and lover didn't know what the tunnel was like now they'd left, nor that he was in grave danger. 

All they knew was how (y/n) fussed them after they made it out alive, ensuring they were well enough to drink hot chocolate as she went out to Nacho Bell alone. Ray could've joined, but he had to lie in his bed the way he made it - and it was a long, painstaking lesson for him to learn. 

~One week later~

Well, technically, it was painstaking for everyone. 

After the collapse of the tunnels, the Man Cave team waited patiently for Ray to appear, thinking that he'd quickly return since the paths were now blocked by loose dirt and stones. 

The first afternoon trickled by and was filled with fun and laughter for everyone as they waited for his bad mood to wear off. They sat, drank, talked, and played video games, comforting (y/n) when she asked if they should form a search party. 

It's been a few hours, (y/n). He'll come back, they said, and she believed them. 

That night, she went to bed alone, trying not to fret when the clock struck midnight--a full ten hours since she'd seen him and not a sign everything was okay. It was a challenge getting to sleep by herself after spending many years wrapped in his arms; the bed felt too empty and cold, and none of the pillows was as comfortable as lying on his chest, so for most of the night, she tossed and turned whilst any sleep she did get was patchy and troubled. 

Don't worry about him, (y/n). He can take care of himself. He'll come back, they said, and she believed them. 

Another twenty-four hours passed, and there was still neither sight nor sound of him. The heroine served lunch to keep herself busy, making her own pizza and a batch of her famous oatmeal-raisin cookies to feed the hungry army that was Henry, Charlotte, Schwoz and Jasper, who seemed unaffected by their boss' absence. 

Maybe it was just her. Perhaps she was too attached. After all, it had barely been two days, yet she was worried and didn't know what to do with herself. And that was only the start of things. 

Even if it has been a while, you know he'd never leave you (y/n). He'll come back, they said, and she still believed them. 

By day four, she'd let the first few tears fall. Charlotte had tried to comfort her, saying no man was worth crying over, but she couldn't help it. The painting was heavy, yes, and moving it alone was a massive challenge, but surely, it didn't take ninety-six hours. 

Twelve of those ninety-six had been spent trying to fall asleep, which hadn't been bad when she thought he was still pouting, but with the seed of doubt planted in her mind and the assumption that something had gone wrong, the task felt impossible. She closed her eyes and could see him standing in the tunnel as she told him she didn't need telling twice before running off; how she wished she'd handled things differently. 

Perhaps if she'd begged a little more, he might have come with her, or possibly if she'd helped him with the painting, they'd have all made it out in time. Whatever she could've done, she wished she'd done it because the alternative of staying awake in bed, dreading he was trapped or hurt or lonely, was almost too much to bear. 

Come on, (y/n), cheer up. Any day now, he'll come back, they said, and she had to believe them. 

There was no alternative. 

Day six dawned, and she rolled out of bed after another sleepless night to mope about the Man Cave and trudge after Henry to answer the mercifully few calls that came through. Captain Man's absence was peculiar for the press, but they didn't push it; Miss Danger's gloominess put them off as she did the job, stopped to mumble a few words and then walked off. 

Nothing held the same spark as it did before Ray went missing, so she lost her chirpy cheerfulness, the optimistic, half-full glass outlook she always had on life when he was around. She cuddled Colin, listened to the teen's problems, fixed a few things with Schwoz, and as she drifted off in thought each time, they worried about her, despite saying to keep her chin up. 

She cuddled Colin a little too tightly when her thoughts grew dark. She couldn't listen to someone else's problem and give meaningful advice when she already had one of her own. She kept electrocuting herself when rewiring the computers. And she wasn't getting any better. 

He's in love with you, (y/n), there's no doubt about it. That alone will keep him going. He's coming back, they said, and she wanted to believe them. 

A whole week without Ray Manchester in the Man Cave, and to look at (y/n), you'd think there'd been a funeral. She didn't smile, laugh, or joke with the others, who carried on as normal with their usual wacky festivities since someone had to keep things going. As they had fun, she sat glossy-eyed and stared by the dirt pile, waiting and praying for a hint of his return. 

"This is so much better with real lasers!" Jasper laughed as he, Charlotte, Henry and Schwoz played laser tag but with a much more painful consequence should they get hit. 

Charlotte couldn't help but agree and fired at Henry as he crouched behind (y/n), who'd become a point of cover for anyone dodging the lasers since she was sitting on a chair, refusing to move, and only got grumpy should they hit and distract her from her moping. 

They knew it was terrible because the dirt had been spilling out onto the Man Cave's floor for days now, and yet she still did nothing to clean it up, which, had she been her usual self, would've irritated the hell out of her. 

Henry couldn't help but worry as long ago, he'd promised Ray that should anything happen to him, he'd take care of her, and couldn't say he was when she picked at and pushed away her food, stayed up half the night and cried every ten minutes. 

"Hey, wait--cease fire! Cease fire! Cease fire!" he called to his friends, who held their lasers and crawled from their hiding places, wondering what they were breaking for. 

"What?" Charlotte asked although she had an inkling in her stomach about what worried him. 

"How long has Ray been gone?" the sidekick asked, saying that name in a hushed voice since the slightest mention of it could send the woman into a meltdown. She'd snap her head to them with hope-filled eyes, thinking they had some news for her, only to find out that it was a false alarm and she was still without her soulmate. 

It had been a blur for them, but for her, it felt like a lifetime. 

"About a week," the girl replied solemnly and glanced at her miserable friend sitting by the dirt pile. It's where she felt closest to him and, as such, refused to budge in case she missed something. 

"Should we be worried?"

"He'll be fine. He's indestructible!" Jasper replied, thinking his friend was referring to their boss. Even though he'd been caught in the tunnel collapse, it wasn't like Ray would suffocate or be crushed, so he was likely still alive. But he wasn't who Henry was worried about--or at least not for those reasons. 

"I'm not worried about him! What about (y/n)? She hasn't eaten or slept properly in days..." he said, and they all looked in the heroine's direction. She didn't even realise they were talking about her or that she was crying a little bit, just a few tears rolling down her cheeks as she tried to cling to hope that kept slipping through her fingers like sand. 

"What can we do? We've tried talking to her, distracting her, and bargaining with her, but she only wants Ray. And he's not here, so all we can do is...wait," Charlotte shrugged and gazed at her friend with soft, sad eyes. She pitied the woman, and her heart went out for her since she was pining for the man she couldn't live without and yet found herself living without him. 

"Resume fire!" Jasper suddenly cried and began firing his amber lasers, much to his friends' outrage since they were experiencing a tender moment and woefully unprepared. How sneaky of him. 

(y/n) ignored the maelstrom of hellfire as she sat patiently on her chair, feeling numb save for an aching in her chest that started the minute she knew something was wrong. Even if the others thought it was crazy, she'd give it one more day and start digging with her bare hands - anything to find him. The one thing she couldn't understand was how one person could make her hurt so much.

"Come on, you can't just--stop guarding!"

"No, you stop guarding!" Henry and Jasper yelled to each other as one strafed between (y/n) and free space whilst the other ducked behind a glowing column near the tube. Jasper couldn't fire if (y/n) was in the way; she was depressed enough as it was, but all was about to change. 

As (y/n) stared off into space for the hundredth time that day, beneath the soil, sand and stones, Ray tunnelled his own path to make it home--and home for him wasn't a place. Seven days away from his sweet, precious, darling girl had driven him half crazy, and he shifted tonnes of dirt with his bare hands to get back to her, just as she had thought about doing as she waited and waited and waited. 

"Tunnel punch!" he shouted to keep himself in high spirits, which was muffled by the wall in front of him but enough to make it through to the other side. His fist collided with the rocks, and they slid down the heap like a landslide, which, at first, (y/n) didn't pay any mind to since it seemed like another one of her dreams. 

As the laser war raged on, Ray clawed through the rubble, holding his breath so very fibre of his being burned for oxygen until he made it through and emerged filthy but alive. (y/n) was the first to spot him, blinking several times as his fluffy hair poked out first, followed by his hands, face and shoulders until she could confirm that it wasn't a dream. He truly was in front of her, alive and well, if in need of a hot shower and good meal. 

"Ray...oh my god, it's you! It's really you!" she whimpered, bursting into tears again as she jumped from the chair so quickly that the combination of the speed and a week of improper meals made her stumble. But she resolved to make it, so she scrambled to him on her hands and knees, not flinching when the rocks dug into her skin since her hands were reaching out to touch him.

"I'm oooooooooo-kay!" he announced in a voice that was much happier than he was feeling. The exhaustion and anxiety from the fear of being trapped in there forever were catching up to him, but for now, he enjoyed the feeling of her fingertips on his face and how she looked at him as if he was a figment of her imagination. Her too, huh?

"And look, sweet girl! So is my painting!" he told her proudly as the kids played. It wasn't much because, in the end, the frame broke when the earth collapsed on it, meaning he'd only managed to tear a small scrap away from the canvas for a keepsake, but it depicted the best bit. 

He'd chosen the few square inches with himself and his lover, just enough to get both of their faces since he'd wanted a portrait of them, so that's what he'd take. And in the dying candlelight, as he crawled through the now narrow tunnels, her angelic face kept him going. 

"It's beautiful, doofus," she choked, unable to hide her tears as she spared the shred a glance to make him happy. She'd had a lot of time to think, and calling the painting ugly was one of her biggest regrets, so from now on, the bit he'd salvaged would be revered, anything to spare her poor, bruised heart from any more strain. 

But, it didn't last. They didn't know who fired the lethal shot, whether it be Schwoz or the teens, but Ray felt heartbreak for the fiftieth time when a rogue laser hit the canvas and instantly burnt a hole in the middle. As it smouldered, the gap grew until his face, and part of (y/n)'s was gone entirely, ruined forever, and he deflated. Literally deflated. 

His shoulders sagged, and his bottom lip trembled because he'd gone through all that effort to save that memory, but now it was gone, and that sucked. 

"No!" he cried and watched the scrap drift to the floor after letting it go, where it continued to burn a bit longer. He didn't know what to do until an idea wandered into his head, which he pondered for a moment as (y/n) nuzzled into him, released a shaky breath and threaded her fingers through his hair. 

In theory, he could dig back down and go retrieve some more. It was feasible; hell, he could organise a mining party and bring the whole painting back for restoration since, with the right equipment, it couldn't be that hard. The more he thought about it, the more he considered the idea, working out a plan of action in his head that sounded doable, although he'd have to ask Schwoz about blasting the dirt out of the way. 

It nearly became a reality, and he was almost ready to get up and go when a quiet voice called out to him, stilling his movements and taking all of his willpower to get up and leave. 

"Don't go," (y/n) pleaded quietly and clung to him like he would disappear again. She didn't care if he was filthy or if the dirt got on her rumpled, unchanged pyjamas because she hadn't bothered to get dressed for the last two days. Even in her best dress, she wouldn't have cared, not when he was holding her close in person, for real, and not as a figure in her dreams. 

The thought of letting him go again terrified her, and although being deemed clingy was one of her biggest fears, she couldn't bring herself to release his dirty shirt. 

"'M not going anywhere, sweet girl," Ray promised, forgetting all his foolish plans to go back and grab what he could of the painting; he had something much more important to take care of. 

He tightened his arms around her and kissed her temple once, telling her it was okay. The road back to her had been long, difficult and dangerous, but he'd done it--he'd do anything to hold her like that as she sobbed into his neck to let out a week of stress and agony. Even as he knelt in waist-high rubble, he was completely comfortable and didn't move until she was ready. 

Call him a simp, under the thumb or just plain soppy; he wouldn't mind. (y/n) was worth it, worth staying instead of risking the collapsed tunnels again, all for the sake of a painting that, now he thought about it, was really fucking ugly. 

He had her, not a painted goddess but a real one. A goddess who'd chosen to love a mere mortal like him, and he was on his knees worshipping her because she was perfect - life imitating art.

[3dcrystalgiftco]

6 Unique Corporate Anniversary Gift Ideas to Celebrate Professional Bonds

Selecting a corporate anniversary gift is more than just a customary exchange; it's an opportunity to celebrate professional relationships and express genuine appreciation. Whether the recipient is a long-time colleague or a recent addition to your team, finding the perfect gift that encapsulates your gratitude and commemorates your shared journey can be a rewarding challenge.

To make this process more meaningful and straightforward, we've compiled a list of unique corporate anniversary gift ideas. These gifts not only convey gratitude but also inspire and celebrate your collective professional voyage. Join us as we explore these thoughtful and distinctive options.

1) A Mental Oasis: Relaxing Brain Games

In a world overflowing with digital distractions, a gift that encourages a mental retreat is a precious find. Consider gifting a gamebook filled with captivating puzzles and trivia challenges. This thoughtful gesture is a delightful way for recipients to engage their minds during breaks, fostering cognitive agility and making the most of their leisure moments.

2) A Personal Artwork: 3D Crystal

A 3D crystal gift is an artistic masterpiece that marries elegance with personalization. It's a stunning and exclusive present that is certain to occupy a special place in the recipient's heart. Choose from various shapes, such as a 3D crystal photo rectangle or a cut corner diamond. Engrave it with intricate detail using a cherished image, whether it's a portrait of the recipient, their beloved pet, their family, or their spouse. This exquisite piece will adorn their workspace, serving as a daily source of inspiration.

3) The Gift of Knowledge: E-Reader

For colleagues or employees with a passion for reading, an e-reader is a splendid gift that effortlessly combines technology with the joy of literature. Load it with motivational and career-oriented books authored by renowned experts, granting them access to a wealth of knowledge for personal and professional growth.

4) A Touch of Nature: A Plant Gift

Introducing a touch of nature to the office environment goes beyond aesthetics. It enhances air quality, elevates moods, and fosters productivity. Opt for an indoor plant that's low-maintenance and resilient. For those with a profound affinity for nature, this gift holds significant meaning. Present the plant in a personalized box, accompanied by a heartfelt message, transforming it into a refreshing and meaningful addition to their workspace.

5) Daily Gratitude: Gratitude Journal

The practice of gratitude holds the power to bring about positive transformations. Starting each day with a sense of thankfulness sets a positive tone. Gift them a gratitude journal, a remarkable tool for daily introspection. This journal encourages them to document the things they're grateful for every morning, cultivating an appreciation for life's simple and genuine sources of joy.

6) Workspace Elegance: A Desk Accessory Set

Elevate their workspace with a carefully curated desk accessory set. This set, whether it comprises a memo holder, pen cup, letter tray, desk pad, or a business card holder, not only adds style to their desk but also enhances their work environment. Opt for a modern and sleek design in colored metal mesh or indulge in a touch of luxury with leather.

In Conclusion

The choice of the ideal corporate anniversary gift transcends mere formality; it's a heartfelt expression of gratitude. Personalize your gift by including a heartfelt message, perhaps a handwritten note, expressing appreciation and acknowledging their invaluable contributions to the company's growth. These gifts, coupled with your sincere words, become tokens of genuine appreciation, strengthening the professional bonds you share.

[amanda-hildebrandt]

The Mona Lisa Steeplechase

Some people train to run a marathon. I trained to see a work of art.

The portrait of a Florentine silk merchant's wife hides in plain sight, locked inside bulletproof glass, buried beneath centuries of grime, blurred by the glare of its own myth. Maiden viewers exclaim over how small it is, and it is. The painting has been cut down at some point in its 500-year history, but this is not the source of the surprise. The image is so familiar, so dominant in the canon of Western art, it is natural to expect it to monopolise an entire wall in this palace-turned-treasure-chest.

The Mona Lisa should not be famous. It has been stolen - Picasso was a suspect - trash-talked by Mark Twain, psychoanalysed by Sigmund Freud, sprayed with red paint, attacked with acid, the subject of unlikely theories - it's Leonardo in drag! - and parodied by surrealists, one of whom dispensed with the missing eyebrows debate by giving the sitter a moustache. These things, rather than its artistic innovations, are what give the painting its pull.

Over nine million people visit Lisa Gherardini Del Giocondo each year. In peak times, it's as if a mosh pit has teleported en masse to the compact Salle 13 in the Louvre. It is close and quarrelsome and punctuated by disorienting bursts of camera flash.

On my first trip to Paris, I did not intend to share her with anyone.

Planning such a feat involved maps, conference with a friend with knowledge of the museum layout, advance tickets, secret entranceways, and a carefully plotted path with no margin for error. In 1911, Vincenzo Perruggia posed as an employee and walked out of the Louvre with the Mona Lisa tucked under his smock; stealing the canvas appears to have required less effort than viewing it without being trampled by happy-snappers. To achieve this, I would have to run.

So began my relationship with the treadmill. In the weeks preceding the trip, I became acquainted with a novel form of self-torture called tabata. I perfected my knowledge of fast-twitch and slow-twitch muscle fibres. The gym manager was evangelical about whey protein.

Come the day, my route was committed to memory. Alarms were set. Websites double checked for changes in traffic conditions, in viewing access. I fronted early at one of the more obscure entrance gates and, when it opened, I ran. Through the underground ticket hall, dodging queues and Dan Brown fans posing beneath I.M. Pei's pyramid. My fast-twitch fibres fired me up the stairs. Flights and flights of stairs. Along a long tangle of corridors and, finally, to Salle 13.

Three minutes. Save for the gallery guards, my training and plotting won me three precious minutes alone with the Mona Lisa. The crowd barrier keeps viewers at an exaggerated distance, so yes, it was smaller than I expected. But close up, it's easier to see what makes the painting a creative revolution: Leonardo's use of oil rather than egg tempera; his unusual placement of a portrait subject within a landscape; the misty, sfumato effect produced by the careful layering of tiny brushstrokes. It's a magnificent work. Yet the colours we see are not the colours Leonardo painted. The viewing conditions are average, and the very idea of the Mona Lisa has grown so large, it's almost impossible to leave Salle 13 satisfied, even for those who walk in with no conscious expectation of cracking a half-thousand year-old enigma.

There are more interesting, more accessible, works in the Louvre: Caravaggio's wry 'Fortune Teller'; Ghirlandaio's 'Old Man and His Grandson'. The quiet, spontaneous appreciation enjoyed before these pictures is what's missing from the Mona Lisa experience. The great shame is that it appears the lady herself, seated alone above the landscape, craves that same quiet.

(Image: Wikimedia Commons)

[headshotsphotograph3]

Corporate Portraits Brisbane

Corporate Portraits are used in a variety of contexts including LinkedIn profile photos, business proposals, and company websites. They convey a sense of professionalism and encourage great first impressions.

Getting professional corporate photography is the best way to introduce your team to your audience in an era where physical interaction is less common. Professionalism

A good corporate photographer will understand the importance of professionalism when photographing your staff. They will use the right backdrops and clothing to create photos that reflect your company’s image. They will also take a few test shots to ensure that the lighting and other elements are correct.

The photographs they take will then be used for various contexts, including website and brochure images. They will help to establish a sense of professionalism and reliability in the minds of your customers.

In an era where customer interaction is less, it is important to make a great first impression. Corporate portraits Brisbane are a great way to do this. They will give potential customers a glimpse of your employees’ personalities and help them to connect with you. They will also establish a strong brand identity and help to attract talent. A high-quality corporate photo can be the difference between a successful business and one that fails. Representation

Corporate portraits are a great way to market your company’s brand image. They project professionalism and inspire trust in your customers and clients. You can use them for your website, LinkedIn profile, and business proposals. They also promote your company’s values and ethics.

A good corporate headshot should include a plain background and smart business clothing. This can be a suit, a shirt and tie, or overalls for lines of work such as construction or manual labour. It is important to have a consistent look across all of your photos, so that your brand image remains unified.

Williams Management is a boutique talent agency that represents Australian actors and presenters. It works with both emerging and established artists and is open to all genders, ages, and ethnicities. It also provides opportunities for its talent to work internationally. It has studios in Brisbane and Melbourne and nurtures US alliances and talent. Reputation

In this day and age, a company’s reputation is essential for its success. Corporate portraits are a great way to build a positive reputation in the eyes of potential customers. If a customer sees a picture of you that was taken with a smart phone, they may be skeptical of your business. Therefore, it is important to invest in a professional photographer for your team.

Corporate portraits are typically taken on a plain background and include smart business clothing. This can be anything from a suit to overalls if you work in construction or other manual jobs. Regardless of your industry, the photographs should reflect your personality and your line of work.

Whether you need a headshot or full body image, Renee can create images that capture your best attributes and will leave you with the perfect photo to use on your LinkedIn profile and website. She will also retouch your photos to remove blemishes, crows feet and bags under the eyes. Employer branding

When you’re looking to attract and retain talent, you need a managed employer brand that promotes your business as an attractive workplace. Corporate portraits can help you achieve this by projecting the right image to potential employees.

These portraits are often used on LinkedIn or as team photographs on a company website. They can also be used in brochures and other promotional materials. In most cases, the subject of a corporate portrait will be wearing smart business clothing. This can include a suit, a shirt and tie, or even hi-vis clothes for construction workers.

As a professional actor headshot photographer, Renee has photographed hundreds of agency represented actors and performers. She is well aware of the importance of a good first impression in a highly competitive industry. She works with each client to ensure they look their best and produces a range of images. She also provides retouching services so that your blemishes are invisible to the viewer.

[parasit-kind]

3. prada womens autumn/winter 23-24 communism realness

i was perusing my twitter timeline and browsing through the shows at milan for a/w 2324 when i noticed a tweet regarding prada’s new collection and its “ode to communism”. alas, i scrolled past the tweet very quickly and now i have no idea what it actually was talking about or said, but!!! it has gotten me to think about this collection and its relations to mid 20th century communism, especially, as i see it, communistic propaganda posters.

i will highlight the motifs i notice in these three particular looks. 

look (1): very formal, white. conservative sleeves and neckline. reminds one of a 50s nurse. here can be seen the throwback retro inspiration of the collection. she’s a utilitarian, sexless female employee. the dress almost looks as if it is not meant to look nice at all. that’s because its not: the purpose of a uniform is function, not form. the dress certainly has many functions. its free with movement, and carries many pockets. it looks quite comfortable really. what struck me severely was the reflection of soviet nurse uniforms onto this garment, but of course, such was the traditional hospital garb in the soviet era, not only for the ussr, but in general internationally. yes, it’s a retro piece. however, the very plainness of it, the lack of embellishment or accentuation of the female figure of any kind is what makes it so perfect in communist idealism: a woman is equal to a man. a woman works, just as a man. why should she be more striking than anyone else.

look (2): here the motif is very militaristic, almost exactly an aviator’s uniform. the get-up is indeed quite unremarkable, save for the shoes, but i will get to those in a moment. as for the shirt and pants, it’s masculine, but in a unisex way. the female body is still not emphasized, even with the high-waist of the trousers. she’s still made to appear very boyish. she’s still a woman in a male way, a genderless way. it’s as if she were distributed a military-regulation uniform, a size not tailored, perhaps not even her own. just another shirt and pants, that what her male counterpart would receive as well. the shoes, however, caught my eye in this show. at first glance, they seem quite “avant-garde”. they honestly reminded me of the current cyber trend, but after analyzing the actual decoration on the shoes, i noticed the flowers. really, without the heels, she would look like she had rushed out in a boy scout uniform, but the heels add the femininity. was it needed? as a styling choice, very much so. with the theme, i must also admit, it reflects the soviet women’s obsession with pretty things, especially flowers. soviet women were very natural and simplistic, a mix of life on the countryside and in the city. on the ussr recognized holiday of international women’s day, it was warranted to gift women flowers.

look (3): this look returns to the retro aspect of the show. come on, the collar? the v neck? it looks like she just crawled out of a 70s family portrait. here i think is important the dull palette. this prada show actually showed a very controlled color variation, save for a few garments, but here, again, the “pop of color” is a very desaturated mint(?) under layer. she, once again, looks very genderless. androgynous, i do not believe describes this, because the garments, to me, clearly have gender, but when worn on her, they seem to lose it, or it becomes mixed. i can no longer tell if they are women’s or men’s wear, that sort of idea. i’d like to add that it even looks like the uniform of a young pioneer, worn out of age.

i’ve lost a little bit my thesis that this collection has something “communist” about it, so let me collect my thoughts. in the soviet era, there was the idea of equality for all, but not in the association that we have the phrase today. it was more so, everyone is a worker, everyone must contribute. there were no exceptions for woman or man, and so here is very much reflected the equal ideology. of course, there was the opening with male models in skirts, but i think that is a bit of a given in the fashion industry today. however, absolutely boring (and i mean that very positively, considering my love for prada) clothing, i would argue, is not. everything is trying to spiral more and more into discord, no? that’s the trend, despite niche movements like “scandi style” and “minimalism”. no, those trends still intend to compliment the wearer and present some sort of accent. this collection truly featured boring clothing, in every sense of the word. the garments were dull, genderless, unsexy, old, untailored, too big and too small. but really, this is the perfect depiction of equality. no one stands out. look again at the three looks i focused upon in this analysis; does any one protrude against the others? not really. they’re all absolutely equal. i suppose this is prada’s response to the equality zeitgeist. a little bit championing the soviet narrative, but i do agree. it’s inoffensive, in fact, it’s the type of equality that people hate. this is either prada’s response to the influencer trend of distinction, or prada themselves being distinct within the industry. 

whatever that answer may be, it’s most certainly a soviet futuro fantasy, a utopian society of tantamount individuals. the clothes are practical, not tailored to a specific body, but rather to an amorphous group of similar sacs of skin and flesh. it’s clothing not for a person, but for a group.

>parasitka პარაზიტკა

p.s. i would like to also comment on the setting. those red beams, the color is very reminiscent of the red pigment used in soviet propaganda posters. they really frame the models, their characters, don’t they?

[wintbuffalo]

Vienna presbyterian church

#Vienna presbyterian church full

#Vienna presbyterian church registration

#Vienna presbyterian church windows

Because Hsiao-Wei’s family is from Taiwan and flew over for the celebration, her brother served as an unofficial translator during the speeches - which made for lots of laughs.Īfter the food, toasts, socializing and cake cutting, Hsiao-Wei disappeared to change into a Taiwanese-inspired exit outfit that was absolutely beautiful and fun! We spent more time wandering around the reception as the bride and groom enjoyed time with all their friends and family together in one place, then enjoyed a fun bubble sendoff to end the afternoon. Our MissionBecoming Like Christ: We experience personal transformation through Jesus Christ.Together: We live out our. Everyone moved out to the tent in the backyard for beautiful music from a string trio, a delicious lunch, and beautiful toasts. The historic house had a personalized and fun cocktail hour set up, featuring Taiwanese/American flags, a donut display, colorful cupcakes, and photos of the bride and groom and their family all around the room. At the end, the bride and groom got to pause at the back of the chapel to ring the church bell in celebration which was super fun!Īfter some brief family portraits, we moved just down the road to Hunter House for the reception, which was pulled together by the amazing Moriah at Detail Savvy Events. The ceremony was fairly short but still focused on their Christian faith and beauty of marriage with readings and some words from the preacher before the vows and exchanging of rings. Please join us Sundays at 9am, 11:15am and 6pm. Head over to Vienna Presbyterian Church for their Treats & Tunes event, where kids can safely collect candy and other goodies from the decorated cars.

#Vienna presbyterian church windows

It was filled with light thanks to the big windows and light interior, and a cozy size that made everyone feel like part of the ceremony even from the back of the chapel. Grace Presbyterian Church (OPC) is a Christ-centered church in the Tysons Corner area of Washington DC. The historic chapel at Vienna Presbyterian Church is a simple but beautiful space. While I’m more traditional in usually preferring the excitement of waiting to see the bride and groom’s reaction to seeing each other at the wedding ceremony, this was the perfect example of when a first look is just the thing the couple needs to stand ready and proud at the altar, and it was beautiful to see just how much Wei and Paul love each other and were ready to go into the chapel after their first look. It was a sweet moment shared between just the two of them, obviously calming nerves and reminding the two of them of the reason for all the hustle of the day. Located in Vienna, Va., the church serves. Get the inside scoop on jobs, salaries, top office locations. Established in 1871, Vienna Presbyterian Church is a group of Christ-centered community members serving people. Presbyterian Churches Churches & Places of Worship. Located in Vienna, Va., the church serves through. The day started at the chapel, where the bride and groom each finished getting ready before a quick first look. Find out what works well at Vienna Presbyterian Church from the people who know best. From Business: Established in 1871, Vienna Presbyterian Church is a group of Christ-centered community members serving people. Salaries, reviews, and more - all posted by employees working at Vienna Presbyterian.

#Vienna presbyterian church full

She holds a bachelor's in Political Science from Indiana University Bloomington, with abundances in Jewish Studies and Russian and Eastern European Studies, as well as a master's degree in Foreign Affairs from the University of Virginia also her thesis examined the prospects for Saudi regime stability.Not many couples choose to host a morning wedding and lunch reception but my June was full of them! Hsiao-Wei and Paul decided to keep their day centered on the ceremony, with a wedding at the historic chapel at Vienna Presbyterian Church and a simple but beautiful tented lunch reception at Hunter House at Fairfax County’s Nottoway Park - two of the most simple but elegant, classic wedding venues in Northern Virginia. See what employees say its like to work at Vienna Presbyterian Church. In 1999, she graduated from Granville High School.

#Vienna presbyterian church registration

Please see Enrollment for registration information. Louis, Missouri, was born on June 15, 1981. From Business: Established in 1871, Vienna Presbyterian Church is a group of Christ-centered community members serving people. Welcome to Vienna Presbyterian Church Preschool Join our wonderful preschool community for the 2022-2023 school year We have a few more openings for students in our 3s programs. 2Josh White, Vienna Presbyterian Church Seeks Forgiveness, Redemption in. Harf, 41, a native of Granville, Ohio, and the daughter of Jane Ax Harf and James E. Facing the Church's Complicity in Sexual Abuse and Misconduct Ruth Everhart. Liberal political commentator for the Fox News Channel and former Deputy Spokesperson for the United States Department of State

[j-j-ehlby-writes]

Photographer’s Dream (t.h)

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: ~7.7k (whoops)

Summary: The reader is a highly sought after celebrity photographer. No one knows her true identity. She gets a call to shoot her ideal client of her dreams, who just so happens to be a man she’s admired for years.

Warnings: Fluff (but is that really a warning?)

A/N: Another oneshot that took over a year to write... finally dwindling my WIP list down.

My Masterlist

“Another fabulous photoshoot makes its debut by none other than the famous mystery photographer herself-”

I exit out of the Gossip magazine’s Instagram story and go back to searching.

There’s another photoshoot coming up and up and I need to find some inspiration for it. There’s not much time and for once, I don’t have anything planned. No theme, no wardrobe, no style of portrait in mind- nothing. It’s like my brain has taken an unauthorized vacation.

I’ve photographed some of the biggest celebrities Hollywood has seen in the 21st century. From Lady Gaga and Beyoncé to Meryl Streep, Justin Bieber and Post Malone to Robert Downey, Jr. and Barack Obama. I even got hired to shoot a couple of the Kardashians. Name a celebrity, I’ve probably taken their picture.

My rise to fame was unconventional. I had started taking pictures of some of my friends, editing them, and posting them. Somehow they caught the attention of Hollywood. They loved my anonymity and how I dressed in a different disguise with every person. No one knows what I truly look like. My career blew up from there.

When I got the call for next week’s job, I almost had a heart attack. I’ve never been more nervous for a shoot before. Hence the total brain fart on creativity.

How do you capture perfection?

Because that’s what he is.

I’ve wanted to take his picture for years but was never given the opportunity to until now. Every idea I ever came up with before now has either been overdone or was too wild. He’s a simple man on the outside with a complicated/complex mind. How do I translate that through a couple of pictures?

Not only do I have to come up with what to do with him, I have to ask designers for wardrobe options for him AND for my disguise for the day. Casual or dressy? Suit or tux? What color? Pattern or solid? There are million different combinations out there! That’s only suits! Casual could be a nightmare!

I step away from technology and breathe.

In and out…

In…

And out.

If I had known doing this could have caused me anxiety, I probably wouldn’t have said yes.

But if I said no, how would that make me look? Awful! There was no way I could have refused possibly one of the nicest and most kind-hearted men in Hollywood.

I know no matter what I decide, I want him to love the finished product. No, I need him to love it.

After sending a quick text to my publicist to contact his team for opinions, I focus on what I could go in. My walk-in closet holds all of my choices for hair. Black bob? Blonde pixie? Beach waves? Red curls? So many options.

My phone starts ringing from the other room.

“What’s up?” I answer to my publicist. She’s the only one who knows me inside and out. Well, she kind of has to. It’s technically her job to know after all. But it’s more than that. She wants to know me in depth. She’s been more of a friend than an employee, and I’ve appreciated it more than she realizes.

“You want his opinion on the shoot?” Her surprise isn’t hidden at all. Yes, it’s strange for me to want the client’s input. I am usually very on top of everything and don’t give anyone else any say. But this guy is different. I want him to enjoy the whole experience, from beginning to end. His opinion means the most to me.

“Yes?”

“Can I ask why? You’ve never wanted anyone else’s opinion- oh my gosh! You like him!”

Yep. I’ve had the biggest crush on my now client for many years now. A hopeless infatuation with a man who would never look at me the way I do him. My friends back home try and say, “You don’t know that for sure, he could surprise you,” and “maybe he needs a woman like you,” and everything else friends are supposed to say. I brush it off and try and change the subject.

When I told them who my next client was, they were beyond excited for me. A million questions were asked to which I had no answers.

A few days went by before we heard back from the client’s team. They were no help at all. Their client said, “Whatever she has in mind will be alright with me.”

…

Bupkis.

The hours following that phone call were spent researching all of the photoshoots he had ever done to eliminate any possible duplicates. All of them were so incredibly sophisticated. He’s almost always in a suit no matter what the concept. He looks immaculate in suits so that’s no surprise at all.

So the question is do I continue the trend or change it up?

My brain immediately says yes to the latter.

Well, more like screams it.

With that, everything comes together in my mind. I call my manager and let her know the plan so she can start making whatever calls she needs to make to get everything together. I breathe a sigh of relief. Finally.

I’m sure this will be exceedingly different for him. It will definitely be out of his normal realm of photoshoots. Although he did something similar in one of his movies, this will be a lot more fun since he doesn’t have a script to go by or follow any directions. The more I think about it, the more excited I get.

The day finally comes and I could not sleep the night before. 50% nerves, 50% excitement. I get to meet the man I’ve been crushing on for years.

I’m setting up my camera when my name was called.

“You haven’t given me your disguise,” my publicist says from the doorway with her phone to her shoulder. I thought long and hard about what disguise I wanted to use to meet this special client. Many ideas came to mind, they were picked and laid out on my bedroom floor for days. I waited for one of them to scream at me “PICK ME!” I wanted the “aha!” moment like I had when deciding what to do for this photoshoot.

But that didn’t happen.

“I’m not doing one this time.” I say back to her before returning to my task.

She hangs up the phone rather quickly before she was at my side. “Are you feeling alright?” She lays the back of her hand on my forehead as if she suspected I was running a fever.

I gently bat it away. “I’m fine, honest.”

“But you’ve never not had a disguise.”

“I’m aware.”

“So, why the sudden change?”

I sigh, “It’s not a permanent change. It’s just this once. Besides, he won’t know that. Like everyone before him and everyone after him, he will assume this”- I gesture to my very casual white long-sleeved t-shirt and cropped high-waist, light-wash mom jeans- “is also a disguise. No one will know any different.” She raises her eyebrow at me skeptically but she accepts it and goes about her job.

I’m informed when he arrives. He’s immediately off to wardrobe though so I don’t meet him yet. It gives me time to make any last minute adjustments before seeing him. After a quick chat with my tech guy, I start taking test shots to get the right lighting. He is fair-skinned so I don’t want to completely wash him out with the current white background. I’ll have to adjust again after… I make many mental notes as I go about my routine. All voices are drowned out as I get into it. All angles must be covered and adjusted. All bases must be covered. After a few back and forths, I finally step back and lower my camera (my tell for being done) feeling satisfied and confident enough to start.

My name draws me back to reality. “I’d like to introduce you to…”

I turn around to finally take in the God in front of me.

Tom Hiddleston.

The God of Mischief himself, dressed in a white V-neck and light-wash loose denim jeans. His long ginger locks are perfectly tousled and slicked back. He’s barefoot as I requested. I’d say he looks like a snack but the whole world knows he’s an entire ten-course meal.

“Wow,” he almost unwittingly blurts before recovering. He holds his hand out to me which of course I take. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m a massive fan of your work.”

“The honor is mine, really.”

And what an honor it is…

His hand is so warm around mine. I can feel it migrate all the way up through my arm, directly to my heart. His smile and his bright blue eyes are so welcoming, it’s impossible to feel anything else.

The clearing of a throat reminds us that we’re kind of just staring at each other. We retract our hands and get back to business. I explain to him what I want to do. As I do, he never looks away from me. If he does, it’s only for a second. He listens intently and enthusiastically. I have a difficult time getting through it all without stammering and stumbling on my words. His gaze was just so intense, it threw me.

My idea is a simple two-parter. Part one: He will be covering the large canvas behind him with paint until there is as little white as possible. Once that is dry, I will peel off a stencil I have on it to reveal the concept of the photoshoot. All while taking pictures of him. It will be messy, but hopefully it will be worth it.

“Feel free to use whatever method you prefer: brush, roller, hands. We have it all,” I conclude.

“Will you join me?” He asks as he steps up to the canvas.

The blood rushes to my face at his invitation. No one has invited me to help before. To hide the tinge of red in my cheeks, I bring my camera up and take his picture. It was the perfect angle. His body was facing the canvas, his right hand was resting on it and he was perpendicularly looking towards me. It was the best before shot I could think of. I already had the idea of having it black and white except for his eyes.

“If I have to,” I answer him before he begins.

The more pictures I take of him, I find out he did not have a bad angle. I already knew he didn’t, doing this only confirms it.

But as I predicted, he was too tame with the paint. He was deliberate with his strokes. Even though it was most a total turn-on to watch, it’s not what I was wanting.

I instruct him to continue while I put my camera down, I pour some paint into one of the trays, dip the paint brush in it, and step up to him. I run my thumb over the bristles, creating a mist on the side of his face. The blue paint pops against his skin tone. I’m almost mesmerized.

“You need to loosen up a bit.” My voice comes out as a whisper. Don’t ask me why. “Don’t be so controlled. This is meant to be fun.”

“Show me?”

I take his brush and throw both aside. “Bring out the balloons.”

One of my assistants brings out one of the buckets of paint filled black balloons I had prepared for this scenario. I grab one, throwing it gently into the air as if to test it out. He watches me every move with an intensity I’ve seen multiple times in his movies.

Throwing it at the canvas is cathartic. Watching it explode into a bright orange over the green he had been painting with felt even better than I expected.

“Your turn.” I hold one out to him and wait.

He takes it, gently squeezing it before raising an eyebrow at me. I raise one back, challenging him to be very un-Britishlike and loosen up. Then with perfect accuracy, he launches it at the canvas. The balloon pops revealing a very vibrant purple.

“That’s a start.”

We throw a couple more before I decide to kick it up a notch. The blue mist on his face was looking a little lonely…

When his back is turned, I pick up a balloon and swiftly pop it… on his head.

The yellow paint drips down his back. His shoulders tense at the initial impact, but release again once I stand back, I have my camera ready for his reaction.

It was gold. Literally.

The paint had also dripped down his face and over his forehead, even down his nose. The yellow mixed well with his ginger hair, I couldn’t have picked a better color.

But the best aspect of the photo was his face. What I attribute to being the “Loki” smile was plastered across it. Now it will be immortalized forever with yellow paint dripping down his face.

“You have no idea of the war you have just started, darling.”

My heart skips at the simple nickname I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by. I take an “innocent” step back towards the bucket. “Did I though?”- I shrug- “maybe this was my intention?”

He smirks, “Game on.”

Twenty minutes later, we are both covered in paint. The canvas is complete and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Tom really does know how to let loose. He’s the reason I have paint in places no one should have paint. Our white shirts are splattered with all sorts of different colors. Our light-wash jeans are relatively unscathed minus a brush stroke or two and my entire left thigh being covered in red. Tom is standing directly behind me with his hand on my waist as we take a look at some of the shots I’ve taken so far. His neck has a very large white brush mark on the left side and his entire right side (including his face) is purple. I’m trying extremely hard to have a conversation with my editor about some of the pictures, but I can’t concentrate.

Tom’s proximity is both extremely calming and entirely too distracting. The paint is now mixed with his intoxicating cologne. His strong arm that was once wrapped entirely around my middle is just leisurely there like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I call for a break after I get through everything to let the paint dry.

I turn to him, “Now I’m giving you the option to stay like this for the next portion or to get cleaned up. There’s a bathroom with a shower just down the hall.”

“I’m quite alright. I think I’ll keep it.” He runs his fingers through his paint covered hair trying to settle it back to how it was before. However a small piece decided to be a rebel and not want to stay back.

I pull him in front of a white wall and grab my camera. “Close your eyes.” Again, my voice fails to come through. He does as I say. I play with the aforementioned piece of paint-heavy hair and place it directly in front of his purple face. Up close I see some red on his forehead with the blue mist on his left cheek. I’m thankful his eyes are closed so he can’t see the stupid smile on my face. I quickly snap a few more pictures, adjusting the angle a couple times before I had him open his eyes again to take a few more.

“You are a photographer’s dream,” I say while viewing them on the small screen.

“How so?”

Feeling bold, I run my finger over his cheekbones, “These,” then down his jawline, “and this,” before dropping it completely, “and it helps that you don’t have any bad angles. Every picture I take is flawless.”

He chuckles, “Well thank you, darling, but it helps to have an amazingly talented photographer who can capture such moments.” He wanders back over to our masterpiece and takes it all in. I snap a couple more pictures seizing the opportunity to look at his ass through the camera lens. “This is honestly the most fun I’ve ever had at a photoshoot.” He turns around as I snap a picture. “I’m not particularly fond of them altogether, but I’d do this again in a heartbeat.”

“Wow,” I bite my lip to stop myself from smiling like an idiot, “that’s some high praise I’m not sure I deserve.”

“Oh no, you deserve it all and so much more. I’ve seen your other work.”

I glue my gaze to my camera, slightly uncomfortable by his compliments. This is the reason I’m anonymous. I get awkward and don’t really know what to say. I also hate being the center of attention. That’s why I’m behind the camera, not in front of it.

He continues, “Your landscapes and water pieces are breathtaking. You capture the utter beauty Mother Nature has given us effortlessly. Every single time I see one of them I’m even more awestruck.” He finally looks back at me, taking in my unease. “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. I’ve been waiting to meet you and tell you all of that and how much I’ve loved your pictures.”

The blood rushes to my cheeks once more. He has wanted to meet me?

“I didn’t know what I was expecting, but you’ve managed to blow all of my expectations out of the water by a landslide. I honestly didn’t think this could go any better.”

The more he talked the more I realized he’s rambling. He’s fidgeting and shifting where he stood. If he were wearing his glasses I’m sure he would be fidgeting with them as well as running his fingers through his mane, rubbing his hands down his chest to straighten his shirt out and dewrinkle his pants. The usual poised, calm and collected man was… nervous?

What would he possibly have to be nervous about? It’s not like I’m anything special. I don’t do anything to contribute to society. I’m not a Nobel prize winner or a very well-known and respected actor in Hollywood. I’m just a small town woman whose hobby caught some attention. There’s no reason to be nervous around me. Unless-

No. No way.

When he noticed his rambling, he chuckles to himself and apologizes again and confirms my suspicions. “I’m sorry, but this is like me meeting William Shakespeare or Leo Tolstoy, I’m a big fan.”

“In all honesty, I should be saying all of that to you, I’ve been a fan of yours for years. You were number one on my list of people I wanted to photograph.” He looks away smiling. “So you essentially made my dreams come true. I don’t think there’s any way I could top that.”

“I can prove you wrong.” He locks eyes with me, all hints of shyness gone. Instead, seriousness with a bit of confidence takes over. And loads and loads of charm. He oozes charm from every molecule of his being. That alone gets me to ask-

“How so?”

Okay, maybe more than his charm made me ask, but my curiosity was piqued. If it meant getting to see him again after today, I’m all for it.

Before he could answer, everyone returned from their breaks. I step up to the canvas and test it to see if it’s dry enough. The slight give against my fingertips tells me it’s not completely dry but it’s good enough that it won’t run into the white of the outline of the stencil we’ve painted over.

My assistant brings over the black iron table and chair I want Tom to sit on for this next part and I’m back in work mode. I peel off the pre-taped X on the paint-covered floor for placement of everything. A few test shots were taken before the main stencil was removed. One after one, each feather of rainbow wings were revealed behind the crazy paint. Tom will be sitting in the middle giving him an angelic presence.

As I snapped pictures, my editor started experimenting with filters I might like and showing me for approval. There were so many photos that I will be obsessed with for weeks to come; that are so unbelievably perfect that this may be my favorite photoshoot I’ve ever done. The sharpness of his jawline and cheekbones are a perfect contrast to the background, especially when Tom is in black and white with the colorful backdrop. That turned into one of my favorite pictures of him.

I took so many pictures that I forced myself to stop, otherwise I would have gone for hours on end. I couldn’t help the disappointed look on my face when I knew I had to call “that’s a wrap.” I never wanted it to end.

“Excuse me,” Tom steps up to the tech desk, “could I ask for a few more?”

I look to my editor. He’s just as shocked as I am. “Uh, sure.” I turn back, “what did you have in mind?”

“Could I get a few with you?”

…

If my jaw could hit the ground and my eyes could pop out of my skull, they would.

For years I’ve avoided pictures being taken of me. Group pictures are my least favorite. I have no control over them. Selfies I can manipulate to make it look halfway decent. Even then those are few and far between. Taking pictures of others; showing them how the world sees them; letting them see the inner beauty instead of what’s on the surface. I try to do it with people and nature.

Never has a client asked for a picture with me as a part of the photoshoot. They usually ask afterwards which I have no problem with, mostly because I always have a disguise; I never look the same in every picture. But for someone I’ve admired for years, who has had photoshoots with gorgeous actresses, to want a couple shots with me? It’s unbelievable. Especially with me as I am sans a disguise.

I switch back and forth between my editor and Tom. He seems just as shocked at Tom’s request as I was. He’s been with me for my entire professional career, so he’s seen a lot. He’s been around when some of the most famous people in the business ask for a picture with the infamous mystery photographer. Not once has one asked me to actually be a part of the project in front of the camera.

“Oh, no,” I blurt turning my attention back to Tom, “I take the pictures. I’m not in them.”

“You have the tripod and your remote,” my editor speaks up, “it’d be easy.”

I want to send him a death glare for suggesting that, but I don’t. I scramble to come up with an excuse. “Yeah, but how will I know what they look like? It’s not like I can be the photographer and be in the picture.”

“I think by now I know your eye,” he comes back with completely obliterating my only valid excuse.

My brain tries to think of the positives that could come from doing this with him…

Reason #1: More time with him. If I agree to it, it would mean that much more time I get to spend with a man I’ve been dying to meet.

Reason #2: Taking pictures with him means I’ll get to be super close with him. I don’t know what kind of ideas he might have but I honestly don’t care. Being that close to him and his intoxicating cologne might just be enough reason to say yes to his request.

Reason #3: However slight, there is a chance to get some quality pictures. If he’s in them, they’re automatically going to focus on him and not me. “They” being anyone who might see them.

I so badly want to say no and let my fear of getting my picture taken take over, causing me to run out of this room. However, my desire to stay and spend time with Tom is stronger than my flight response.

Huffing, “As long as my face isn’t in full view…” my editor nods, I turn to my assistant, “Can someone please find my tripod and wireless remote?” I excuse myself to actually find out what my appearance looks like. I only have the smallest inkling based on my paint covered clothes.

The mirror in the bathroom revealed to be much worse than I was expecting. The dried paint is matting my hair into a rat’s nest. There is a rainbow of colors all over my entire person. Handprints from Tom are on my shoulder, back, and side. Splatters of orange and bright royal blue with smears of yellow are in the mix. In other words, I look like a disaster.

Why in the world does Tom want to have his picture taken with someone who looks like a clown barfed on them?

To make myself a tad more presentable, I do what I can to tame my hair at least a bit before going back out there. I don’t wash any paint off. That would ruin the whole thing. If Tom is going to stay the same then I figure I should as well.

My tripod is set up and my camera is already mounted by the time I come back out. Tom is patiently waiting for me and continues to wait while I adjust the aperture and lighting, taking a few test shots so neither of us get washed out in the process.

I turn to him placing my hands on my hips, “So what did you have in mind?”

“Here,” He gently pulls me to his chest. He puts my hands on his chest before wrapping his arms around my waist. His face is obstructing my view of the camera, his mouth just at my ear. My heart sped up at the close vicinity, my palms get damp- I have to tightly grip the wireless remote before it falls out.

My mind goes fuzzy for a minute at his proximity before I press the button. The flash of the camera captures the moment, I can’t wait to actually see it.

He squeezes my sides effectively tickling me. His baritone laugh fills my ears as he buries his nose in my hair. The flash goes off multiple times without me pressing the button. I bury my face in his neck as the flashes continues. I pull back slightly with my back to the camera still.

We lock eyes and suddenly everything else in the room disappears. It’s just us. His are filled with such joy at first, quickly changing to… intensity and intrigue. They sparkle in the light. The blues of his irises pop against his pale skin, ginger locks with all of the paint spattered everywhere.

He brings my right hand up to his lips, never breaking eye contact with me. He places a lingering kiss on my knuckles. I watch his lips completely mesmerized by him. The soft stubble around even softer lips brush against my fingers sending light tingles up my arm… or maybe that was just the effect of his lips alone. His beautiful, long eyelashes brush against his cheeks and linger for longer than a split second- his utter beauty astounding me the more time I spend with him. I’m actually anxious to see how these photos will turn out…

It takes my brain a few moments to register everyone else around us again. Stepping back from him almost felt criminal. The bubble we created popped as soon as our eye contact broke.

We take a few more before he insists on taking one of me in front of the wings. Instinctually I cover my face. When he shows me the picture, I’m amazed at how much I like it. He continues to snap a few more before I snatch my camera back. He throws his arms around my waist, pulling my back into his chest. I take a few selfie-like photos like that.

It’s then that his manager comes in, reminding Tom that he has another engagement to go to soon. Given that he’s covered in paint, he will need to shower before that. Which means he has to leave…

The way his manager is eyeing me in his arms makes me slightly uncomfortable. Tom seems to sense it as he lets go-rather reluctantly, I might add. He clears his throat after turning to me. “It was a pleasure meeting you.” Just like that he’s back to being the professional I know him to be. He holds his hand out to me.

“As I said before,” I slip mine into his, “the pleasure is all mine.”

He lets go and starts to walk away, but comes back, “Could I please have a hug? I’m a hugger.” Before he can even finish his sentence, I wrap my arms around his neck. He sighs in relief into the crook of my neck as his arms lock around my waist. “Would it be too much to ask,” he whispers in my ear before pulling back enough to look in my eyes, “if I could see the finished product before publication?”

My head quirks a little in confusion, my brows slightly furrow. It’s an odd request that I’ve also never gotten before. Most clients trust my vision and want to wait to be published to see the final product.

He must take my reaction to be offended because he rushes to correct himself, “No, no, please don’t think I’m being offensive, that’s not my intention at all. Please forgive me if I’ve offended you. I trust you; I trust that whatever you do will turn out brilliantly. I just…” He seems to get lost in thought or is trying to think through his words carefully before speaking again, “I’d like to see… you… again.” How shy he got within those last few words had to be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen him do. You could see the doubt in his posture- shoulders slightly slumped and yet his spine seemed to tense- as well as hear the confidence wane the more he spoke. It reminded me of a little kid who got their parent the best present in their opinion and nervously explained why they thought it was awesome, only realizing they may not have the same opinion. The dejection fills their entire being, I can see Tom wanting to crawl into himself and hide if I were to reject him.

Which I have no plans to do.

A smile slowly appears on my face at the realization of his words. He wants to see me again. He wants to see me. The butterflies in my stomach are set awry at the thought of seeing him again. I nod, “I think we can make that work.”

The smile that took over his beautiful features was one I wish I could have caught on camera. He hugs me one more time, kissing my cheek before he leaves.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind. Tom sent his personal contact information to my manager, we’ve been talking just about every day since. He posted an outtake on his social media pages gushing about how excited he was for his shoot. That alone floored me knowing how much he doesn’t use social media anymore. My website crashed with how much traffic it received from his fans wanting to be reminded of his pictures launching.

Speaking of his pictures, they were flawless. Absolutely flawless. That man does not have a single bad angle. Even the ones with me in them, he was perfect. I edited them only slightly- no photoshop. I pride myself on never using it to make anybody have a smaller waist or change someone’s skin to make them poreless a.k.a. unrealistic. Tom needs no photoshopping. It was the most difficult decision I’ve ever made when it came to picking the pictures to post.

However, I didn’t have to make that decision alone. True to my word, Tom and I set up a meeting to go over all of them once I was finished with “my magic” as he called it. He invited me to his house in London when he had a short break from filming. The idea was daunting but I was excited to finally see him again.

He sent a car to pick me up from the airport at my insistence. He wanted to pick me up himself- being the gentleman he was- but I thought it would be better if we weren’t seen together by anyone. Even if no one would be able to recognize me, I was paranoid. Thankfully he understood. He greeted me at the door as soon as the car pulled up. He welcomed me into his home as if we were old friends. He had cleared off his coffee table in his living room so I could set up my laptop, he offered me a cup of tea while I pulled everything up. He was the most hospitable host, always make sure I was comfortable before starting.

Every new slide he saw he had the same reaction, “Wow,” or “Amazing,” and “Each one just keeps getting better.” He was floored by what I had done. He repeatedly complimented my eye and my artistry. He says how he knew they would be great but every one of them has blown his expectations out of the water. I hated and loved all of his positive feedback. I loved it because he was someone I especially wanted to impress. His opinion meant more to me than anyone else’s. The only reason for hating it is because I don’t take criticism well whether it was positive or negative. And I was getting quite a lot of it from Tom.

We got to the last one before he turned to me, “Now, darling, you know how much I love those, but I think you know which ones I’m dying to see more.” He smiles close-lipped like he was begging for something while putting on the charm trying to persuade me to say yes.

I bite my lip and sigh before setting up the second slideshow I knew he would have wanted. This one I was even more nervous about. He would continually ask how these ones were going specifically throughout the last few weeks. He was just as anxious to see them as I was. Not knowing exactly what shot my editor was taking, if any physical characteristics of mine could be differentiated from any other person. It took everything in me that day to relinquish that kind of control. It also took an equal amount of restraint not to delete every single picture with me in it. Tom’s constant nagging stopped me though. He would know if I deleted one, or so he says.

“After this one, we have to pick the finals from the other ones.” I pass him my laptop to go through them himself before excusing myself to go sit outside. I was not about to sit through that one with him. I sat on one of his back steps and watched the gray clouds move across the London sky. I always enjoy coming here. Most people hate how dreary the weather is, but I love it. I feel most at peace when it rains and is overcast. I’ve thought about getting a flat here but I don’t know how difficult that would be.

It’s several minutes before the door opens behind me. “You can come back in, darling.” He holds his hand out for me to take as he guides me back in the house and over to resume our previous spots on the couch.

He sits with me facing the computer which has since gone dark. His thigh is touching mine completely as if he couldn’t bear to be even a hair’s breadth away from me again. He doesn’t let go of my hand as his elbows rest on his knees and I lean my chin against his shoulder.

He reaches with his free hand to wake up my laptop. One of the pictures pops up on the screen. It’s one of the ones he personally took. He managed to get my face before I covered it. Completely candid, which is normally my favorite kind of photo, except when it’s me as the photo subject. He squeezes my hand as he whispers in my ear, “You are so beautiful.”

Paging through some of the other photos of the two of us, he lands on the one that surprised me the most when I was going through them. My editor managed to sneak one of my full-face just before Tom kisses my knuckles. I was in such a trance that I didn’t notice anything outside our bubble. The only picture I could compare it to is the iconic one of the Duchess of Sussex during her wedding to the Duke. The love is extremely evident in her eyes in that moment, it was made clear to all she was marrying the love of her life.

He flips to one more picture. It’s of his face moments before mine. I feel his eyes on the side of my face as I stay glued to his picture. “I only hope you can see yourself as I do.” I spent hours staring at this one, willing myself to see something else other than what I saw: mirrored emotion. Everything I saw in my expression was directly identical to his. Softened eyes, relaxed jaw, mouth slightly ajar forming the most content smile… all I saw was admiration. Deep admiration for who he was gazing upon. My crushed-out brain wanted to call it something else but there was no way it could be anything close to that. Not that quickly at least…

“The fact that you’ve gone without your usual disguise twice now around me has not gone unnoticed. It has allowed me to see your outer beauty as well as your inner beauty through your art and through our conversations.” He stops for a beat. “I’ve found myself wondering after we say goodnight, ‘how did I get so fortunate to be able to see the beautiful, inspiring woman that you are when you hide it from others?’”

I should have known that if anyone could see right through me it would be him. He’s extremely perceptive and intuitive. He’s capable of seeing through layers and layers of walls built by people who don’t want to be seen. He looks deeper to comprehend more than people realize. He saw right through me during our first meeting, yet he still wanted to see more. He’s done so every time we’ve talked on the phone or Facetimed.

I’ve allowed it to happen. I didn’t know why at first. I don’t open up to many people in this line of work. No one really cares to know. From everything I had seen and read about Tom, I knew he was different. I knew I could be myself around him without any fear of judgment. I didn’t need to hide from him to get respect, like I’ve had to for every day of my career. Tom would never base an opinion on me until he met me. He’s nothing like the rest which is why I felt comfortable enough to let those walls down and continue to be myself. I can’t say I’m disappointed that I have.

“I knew you would never judge me, which is extremely rare especially in this industry. And…” My eyes drift away from the screen to meet his intense stare. I swallow down the lump that was forming in my throat. He squeezes my hand encouraging me to continue. His thumb is lightly rubbing the back, sending tingles up my arm. My next words only come out as a whisper, unable to trust my own voice, “…you were the only person I didn’t want to hide from.”

I can’t help but get lost in his gorgeous baby blues as they were locked on mine. The kindest soul lives behind those seas of blues. And right now that soul was questioning why I’ve opened my heart to him. The real question is “why not him?”

Confirming what I already knew, he huskily whispers back, “Darling, you never have to hide from me.”

Overwhelming feelings compel me to do just that so without giving it a second thought I close the small gap between us. It only lasted for a few seconds. My lips pressed to his until I came to my senses. He didn’t even have enough time to react. I pull back and immediately separate myself from him. The entire right side of my body goes cold, instantly missing the warmth his body brought me.

“I’m sorry.” I can’t believe I just did that. How could I have completely lost all composure and flat out kissed him? He is my client! I may have the biggest crush alive on him but I should show a little professionalism while we’re still working together…

He clears his throat, “It’s alright.”

“No, it really isn’t.” I stand, even though my body screams at me to sit back down. “You are my client.” I keep hoping by reminding myself of that it will actually sink in. “I should be professional with a client. Not making house calls or asking for input or breaking the one rule I made for myself…”

My golden rule: Don’t get personal with clients. Be friendly but professional. Give them a memorable experience and then let them go. Don’t get attached. All of this… for years I haven’t had a problem. Until him. He shattered every boundary I set for myself. I’m not faulting him; it’s not his fault at all. It’s 100% mine. I let it happen. I broke my rule because of who he is and my stupid crush on him.

A laugh erupts from me unexpectedly. I may or may not have lost my mind…

“And the worst part of it is I can only blame myself. I knew of my hopeless crush on you before I said yes.” At this point I have no control over what is coming out of my mouth. The filter or brakes I had before have all but evaporated. “You’d think that because of said crush I would have made doubly- triply sure I don’t get personal, that I used the best disguise I could possibly think of. But no… instead I let you see everything I’ve purposely kept inside for my entire career, maybe even longer.” I’m also well-aware that I’m rambling, however I can’t stop myself. “But I couldn’t help myself. You are just so comfortable to be around, even from the beginning. You were so easy to talk to and so kind, my walls sort of just crumbled.”

I groan at the memory of that day. Just with the way he looked at me in that one shot, it set all of my nerves alight, the butterflies in my stomach awry, everything in me screamed at how much it wanted him. “And the way you were looking at me… it was like you could see every part of me; like you could see right through me. Like even if I wanted to lie or hide, you could see the truth. You-” I finally get up the nerve to turn to face him, only to find he was already standing right behind me. He had the same intensity to his face as he did that day, except somehow even more so if that were possible.

His eyes are locked on my lips. My breath is lost as everything I said sinks in. I just admitted to having a crush on him. I could have backtracked and said I don’t anymore had I not just kissed him.

Only a beat goes by before he grabs my face and brings our lips back together. This time he places an open mouth kiss on me like I’ve seen so many times in his movies. His soft but firm lips move against mine like a man starved, like he could no longer hold back. His tongue gently pokes between my lips but is never too intrusive. The passion he puts into his kisses can be felt down to my toes. I never want him to stop, even when my brain is begging for oxygen. I don’t think I could love him more than in this instance.

One of his big hands cradles the side of my face, the other moves down to gently grip my waist before snaking around to the small of my back. He pulls me flush against him. Mine instinctually wrap around his waist and up his muscular back, exploring every inch I could reach, never wanting to let go.

“I see you, darling. For all that you are.” His already baritone voice takes on a whole new bass as he catches his breath.

He rests his forehead against mine as we both try and get our breathing and racing hearts back to normal. Once he’s ready, he kisses my forehead and pulls back slightly to look me in the eyes again. This time I see elation and satisfaction plaguing his features. “… and I’m falling in love with you because of it.”

I swear my heart stops in that moment. The shock of his words nearly knock my knees out from under me, I never dreamed I would ever meet him, let alone hear him say those words directed at me. But this isn’t a dream. This is real life. My real life.

Sighing in relief, I throw my head back, “Oh, thank you!” I stretch to my tiptoes to kiss him again. I wrap my arms around his neck as he sighs happily at the contact and giggles at me.

“Is it fair to assume you’re falling for me as well?” He secures his arms around my waist, keeping me as close as possible.

“Oh, honey,” I playfully scold, “I’m already there.” A smile stretches on his lips nearly making them disappear. “But don’t worry” –I brush my nose against his, letting my own happiness shine as brightly as his- “you’ll catch up.”

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~*~

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