#unfortunately no time to update chapter art

[megamanrecut]

Mega Man Recut, Season 3: A Mega Star is Born, Part 1

"So who's Bass?"

"A bomber robot, like Proto Man and I, built by Dr. Wily."

"Another bomber robot? Only if Wily built him, I bet he's pretty ugly, huh?"

"Well…"

…'Ugly' wasn't how Mega Man would describe Bass…though Bass's design did have Wily's trademark flair for drama.

Read more on Ao3 or Fanfiction.net

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 6 | M

Title: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Nel's here for the week and you couldn't be more excited!! Jungkook's another story though...

Warnings: M, fluff, smut, swearing, drinking, pining, angsstt, slight boundary pushing (not sexual), unwanted/ unneeded overprotectiveness, jealousy, lying, [reader eats bacon and eggs but it's not specified what kind or where it's from, just bacon and eggs, so whether that means veggie, vegan or normal is up to you], intentional pissing off of Nel, a little spat between major characters, sex as a plot device.

Mature warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 6,945

Release Date: April 20, 2:00PM

A/N 1: 6 months later and we have chapter 6! slow updates, but they will be written and they will be posted. I have no plans to abandon this, I just, very unfortunately, have a bit of an outernet life now. So not a lot of free time to be creative which I hate. But it's here!!

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Mature Warnings: Consensual sex x 2, both reader with Nel and JK with Ady -> sorry not sorry cuz it's plot sex. We got us some: kissing, protected sex (as we should), missionary, fingering, oral (f. rec), tiny bit of groping (consenual), multiple orgasms, loud sex, like annoyingly, sex as a terrible coping mechanism (imo), fantasizing.

Bouncing lightly from foot to foot, you’re buzzing after finally receiving the text you were waiting on a few minutes ago.

Nelly <3 [10:10pm]: Landed. See you soon 😘

He’s almost here. He’s almost here!

Just a few more seconds until—

The gates slide open. A flood of people in a mixture of sweats and business casual wear with luggage of all sizes and neck pillows walk through. You hold up the sign above your head with both hands, a smile that could outshine the sun plastered on your face, and search.

Where is he? Where is he, where is he, where is he, you think as you scour the bodies filing out of the automatic doors. You can’t see him. He’s none of the nameless faces that pass you by as they find their family, friends or rides. 

Is this even the right group of people? What if his luggage got lost and he won’t be out with this group. What if he got taken aside for some reason, and now he’s being held in some dusty room being asked a bunch of stupid questions he doesn’t know how to answer? What if he’s fig—

But then there’s a gap in the crowd, and the boy you’ve spent the last half decade of your life with comes into perfect, crystalline view. His lips pulled taught, teeth beautifully bared as he sets his sights on your sign high in the air, then down to you.

And you're running. 

You’re running and dodging and swerving until you’re jumping into Nels arms as he abandons his suitcase in favour of keeping you both up right. He buries his face into your neck, holding you so tightly you think he’ll never let go. And that’s just fine with you as you hold on just as tight, taking in a big breath of him too. 

He smells like airplane and coastal breeze and most importantly, home. 

Nel smells like home.

A muffled, “Ohhhhhhh, I missed you,” greets your ears, and you melt into him even more if that's even possible.

“I missed you too,” you say, pulling back and kissing him. You don’t really care if there’s an audience or not right now. Not when Nel’s here, and he’s in your arms, and he’s yours for a whole 9 days and life is as it should be once again.

He releases his hold slightly, but your arms don’t leave his shoulders. The sign still clutched, now crushed and crinkled, in one hand. 

“Car?” he asks, a kiss to your nose.

“This way,” you lead, releasing your hold.

Luckily, his suitcase is small, so he forgoes rolling it, instead gripping the handle at the top and carrying it in one hand. Your own reaching for his other and not letting go. He’s going to have to peel you off him if he wants space right now. 

Nel’s wearing his usual fall attire; a dark green school sweater that has ‘ECAD’ written over the chest in a large, academic looking mustard yellow font, regular old blue jeans, and dark brown lace up boots. His short, dirty blond hair's covered by a hat you’d gotten him as a highschool graduation present, and his ocean blue eyes remain as gorgeous as they were the day you met. 

Passing through doors to the outside and back to lot J, you hop in the car as he puts his bag in the trunk.

“How have you been? What’s new? What’s not? Tell me everything,” he asks as he climbs in and sits beside you, hand finding yours again. 

Never gone for too long. You relish in the comfort and happiness that alone brings you. 

He’s finally here. You finally have him back.

“I’m great. Yuri’s still Yuri, classes are only a little more challenging this year, but I’m still at the top of them,” Nel slips in a ‘not surprised’ and you smile brighter as you continue. “They’re already telling us to start brainstorming ideas for our thesis show next year,” you have no idea what you’re going to do, but you’re working on it. “Campus is the same, dorms are the same, the cafe’s the same. Though, they have the egg tarts I like in more, which is awesome for my taste buds and terrible for my bank account.” 

Vivian stayed true to her word, and now they had the tarts in every week. 

“I can only imagine,” Nel jokes.

“Uhhmm, what else…” a thought pops up, and you guess you can tell him. It doesn’t reveal anything the whole world doesn’t already know. “The prince is dating Adaline Dupree.”

His eyebrows raise, remembering, “Oh yeah, that’s right, the prince goes to your school now.”

“Yep.”

“Have you met him?”

Is he seriously not completely shocked at the prince dating Adaline? You only bitched about her to him all the time.

“Uhhh… yep, once or twice, I guess.” 

You hate it. You hate lying, especially to Nel. You hate it so much, but it’s for the greater good. It’s to keep the peace. But that doesn’t stop the burning feeling in your chest nor the roil in your belly.

“The day he arrived Yuri dragged me down to see him speak. She made us sit front row because Yuri,” Nel nods, knowing exactly what you mean. “He had everyone assemble to hear why he was at school and tell us not to treat him like a prince. He wants to be able to study without his title getting in the way.”

You hit your blinker, making a one handed left turn. 

“Makes sense. Is he nice at least?” Nel doesn’t sound at all suspicious, and why should he? You’ve never given him reason to not believe you at your word before. Never lied to him before.

Fuck you hate this so much. It was so much easier when he was 5000 miles away. But now that he's right beside you? This week may end up being more difficult than you thought.

“He was very princely. Tried to kiss my hand like he did like every other girl there, but I made it a handshake instead. Figured if he wants to be treated like everyone else, I would liste—Oh!” you laugh before you can even get the words out.

“What?” he asks, intrigued but confused.

You can barely speak coherently. “You should have seen Yuri’s face when I called him Jungkook and not Prince or Your Highness...her eyes nearly fell out of her head,” tears are starting to form from laughing so hard. “It was great.”

“He didn’t mind?” Nel asks and you shake your head. Yuri’s face that day will forever be seared into your brain for whenever you need a pick-me-up. 

“No, he was grateful actually. I was the first person that had addressed him like that, the way he’d asked to be.” Stopping at a red light, you're finally regaining yourself.

“Well,” he squeezes your hand, “you always were good at first impressions,” and looks at you so softly you can’t help but smile into the kiss you give him. 

He remembers that school art fair just as fondly as you do. 

Nel pulls away first with a thought. “Is Yuri with us this time?” 

Yuri hadn’t been able to go home last year, her parents too busy on a work trip, so she stayed back and kicked it with you two, but also gave you your space when needed.

Lots and lots of space.

“Nope! Parents welcomed her with open arms this afternoon, I’m sure. They’re all on some tropical island down south. She’s bringing me an ocean bottle though, so I’m excited for that. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to add a new one.”

Everytime you travelled somewhere with a beach you got a glass bottle and filled it with half sand, half water, added in some shells or rocks and labelled it. Instead of towels, keychains, or magnets, you did ocean bottles. They lined a shelf in your room back home. 

You probably have at least fifteen of them by now. Your mum likes to travel and make sure you experience the world around you, not just your little corner of it.

“Oh that’s great babe! I know how much you love those.”

“Yeah, it is.” You lean your head on his shoulder, basking in his presence for as long as the light remains red. 

He’s here. He’s yours. 

You only have to do this for a couple more years and then you’ll be together all the time. God you can’t wait. But you are nothing if not disciplined. 

And it’s going to be so worth it in the end.

The rest of the ride to your dorm goes by quickly. 

Some more red lights, some more kisses. You point out the same things you always do on the way back, and Nel acts like it’s the first time he’s seen them, just like he always does.

His hand never leaves yours over the center console. 

Soon enough, you find yourselves flopping down on your bed. Bags, jackets and shoes, scattered. Nel pulls you into him, his head on your pillow, yours lying on his chest. True peace settling in for the first time in months.

“I can't wait until we’re done school and I have more than four and a half months with you a year,” he sighs.  “It’s not enough. I want more. Need more.”

“Me too. But good things come to those who wait.”

“Yeah…I’m just really sick of waiting.” 

“Me too,” you repeat in a yawn. 

Nel’s breathing slowly evens out as you lie there, content to be in your arms again. And you look up to see his eyes closed, warm exhales brushing over your face from his nose. 

You can’t blame him for being so tired. He’d had an early morning exam before flying out, even brought his suitcase to it so he could leave the second he was done. Then, the flight alone was ten hours, plus travel times to and from the airports was about an hour each way, and the wait time before boarding was another two. 

Shit, he’s probably been awake for around eighteen hours straight at this point because he’s also the type that can’t sleep on planes no matter what he tries. 

Oh, Nel...Of course he’s exhausted.

Giving him a squeeze before getting up, you take off his socks and jeans carefully, then tuck him into bed as much as you can. You’d try the sweater, but it involved too many working parts and you didn’t want to wake him, so you figure it’s best to have the window open tonight instead. 

Grabbing your phone, you tiptoe to the bathroom and do your night time routine. It’s not an overly complicated one, just brushing your teeth, washing your face and a simple 3 step skincare routine of cleanser, toner and moisturizer. Short and sweet, but it does the job. 

Halfway through brushing, you do your friend due diligence and send Yuri a ‘back safe’ text, just like she’d sent you her own ‘here safe’ when she’d landed.

You spit and rinse, moving onto washing your face and applying cleanser.

Teeth clean and face moisturized, you sneak into your room again. Nel's still out cold. 

You sneak out of habit—your mom wakes at the sound of a pin dropping. But absolutely nothing could wake Nel now outside of his mother’s voice and his morning alarm. It’s a talent of his you’ve always been jealous of.  

Removing today's clothes and tossing them in your overflowing hamper—reminder to self: do laundry—you slide on your pjs and climb into bed beside him, plugging in your phone and setting it down. 

A thought pops into your head and you pick it back up, shooting a quick text before you can think twice. 

You [11:26pm]: home safe

It pings not seconds later.

PJK [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso  PJK [11:27pm]: glad ur home safe

Your heart beats a little louder at the nickname, and you chalk it up to the excitement still in you at having Nel here and being tired. 

But you sleep better that night than you have in a long time. 

A short, repetitive, rhythmic vibration. 

Picasso [11:26pm]: home safe

Jungkook is still standing in the same corner by the wall, Adaline somewhere in the crowd in front of him dancing with her friends. She asked him to join her, but he declined. He doesn’t need to see himself more than half drunk and dancing on the cover of tomorrow’s news cycles. Not to mention his security team would shut the party down the second a camera flashed.

His guards are carefully stationed throughout the house, all dressed down in casual wear, a few with empty cups in their hands. One is watching some sort of beer pong like game in the corner, another is mingling with some guys over in the kitchen. Three he can’t immediately see. And he knows his head guard is outside in a black car ready to get him out at a moment's notice.

Nobody can tell they aren’t here for the party, not unless they’re sober enough to notice watchful eyes continually making their way over the crowd as the night goes on. 

Your text woke him from the stillness he’s adapted from standing so long, trying hard not to draw attention to himself. 

You were home safe. Home safe from the airport. Home safe from picking up Cornelius. 

Your boyfriend. 

Cornelius, your boyfriend. 

He doesn’t acknowledge his teeth grinding.

You were home from picking up your beau but even then, you’d texted him to let him know you were back on campus safely. To let him know you were okay. 

It’s the first thing that makes him smile all night.

So he sends back, a bit to quickly: 

Me [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso Me [11:26pm]: glad ur home safe

Because it means something to him that you deem him close enough to send a ‘home safe’ text too. 

That you want him to know you’re back.  

Want him to know you’re safe.

Whether you know it or not, your safety means a lot to Jungkook, so that little two word text makes his heart lurch. 

He needs to leave. 

He needs to get out of this fucking house and back to his dorm. He came, he drank, he observed, he fulfilled his boyfriend duty.

That’s enough for him. 

He shoots Adaline a text that says he isn’t feeling well and gets out as fast as he possibly can, dodging bodies left and right and doing his best to hide his face. 

Once he’s out, security team in tow, the cooling midnight air does him some good. 

“Someone make sure she gets back to her dorm safe,” he says in their general direction, brain too muddled to be polite in this exact moment, but it’s nothing they haven’t seen before. 

This is going to be such a long week.

He can’t wait till it’s over. Till he doesn’t have to share anymore. 

He was never very good at it anyway. 

The smell of bacon wakes you. 

And toast, and…

Eggs? 

You think, at least. Since when do you have bacon? Or eggs? Toast is a given, it’s part of your life’s blood.

Opening your eyes, you blindly reach for your phone, successfully unplugging it and bringing it to your face.

The screen is too bright but you suffer through it, squinting.

9:27am. 

9:27? 

You slept for ten hours!?

You can’t remember the last time you slept more than 6 consecutively, aside from recovery nights, and even then it was fitful.

Nel comes in with two plates, his full with a very Eastern breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. Yours with two pieces of toast, lots of bacon, a bit of eggs and some fruit. Where did he—?

He smiles at your confusion, “You have a cafeteria that sells breakfast food, you know.”

You know that.

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because the look on your face says otherwise.”

You flop back down and pull the pillow over your head, mumbling incoherent nonsense. You rarely used the dorm cafeteria for breakfast. Much preferring the greenhouse cafe or simple toast and juice that you can make in your dorm.

He chuckles. “Two breakfasts for me then, okay, if you insist,” Nel moves to leave but you screech, uncovering your face.

“Noo! I want it. Please, sweet nutrition,” he hands the plate over when you sit up, arms out stretched, and you dig in. 

After a piece of bacon, you ask, “How long have you been up?”

Nel’s sitting with his legs crossed at the end of your bed, munching away, “Long enough to get changed, grab my wallet, get food and come back.”

The bacon is really good. You’ve never been so glad he knew you so well as you grab another piece from the dwindling pile.

“You slept well then, too? That’s good, I’m glad. You needed the rest.”

“Having you around always makes it easier to fall asleep,” he nudges your knee with his elbow.

Even after five years he can still make you blush.

“I know the feeling.”

You two fall into step, starting your weeks in advance prepared plans, the rest of your day passing quickly. 

Too quickly. 

And so does the next day, and the next, and the next. 

All of your activities are going great. The zoo, picnics, study dates, restaurant dates, historical, artistic and architectural museum tours. Even a swim at the school’s indoor pool, and there’s plenty more to come. 

Things slip back into being easy, just as they always have been with Nel, ever since that first day back in tenth grade. 

He knows you like the back of his hand and predicts your moves before you make them, just like you do for him. 

You know his favourite foods, and where he prefers to park when driving—always avoiding open curbs—you know his dream travel destinations, and who his favourite musicians are. You know his favourite pencils to design with and his favourite pencils to shade with, that he always put on his right sock first, then right shoe, then left sock and left shoe. You know that his drink order is an iced coffee with two cream and two sugar, that he prefers loose shirts over fitted ones, and that his favourite colour is orange.

It’s a pretty orange too, not just any orange. You wonder if it’s anything like Jungkook's–

Wait. 

You search your memory for the information, going through favourite foods, drinks, music—all discussed previously, because you know their answers. But colour?

Nothing.

How have you never asked what Jungkook’s favourite colour is?

Isn’t that usually one of the first things people ask when they’re trying to get to know one another? Funny. Guess you’ll have to inquire the next time you see him. 

Anyways, just like you know everything there is to know about Nel, he knows everything about you too, including your routines. 

Which is why at twelve noon every day, he starts getting ready to go to the greenhouse for your afternoon study session.

Including today.  

Your week’s already half over and you hate it. Time always moves far to fast when all you want it to do is slow the fuck down. 

You only have five days left. Five days.

You’re lucky the greenhouse cafe is open during break, some places on campus are required to stay open for the students who can’t make it home, but greenhouse chooses to. 

As you and Nel turn the corner you see a familiar figure sitting in his old spot at the back of the patio. The same hat, mask and hoodie, now paired with a leather jacket on top due to the weather starting to cool down.

You can tell Jungkook wasn’t expecting to see you by the way he stiffens before those all too familiar brown eyes of his meet your own. Which is fair, your schedule shifts a bit when you’re on break, he isn’t used to you being here at twelve on Wednesdays. 

But as quickly as he sees you, his gaze is back on his laptop, like he never saw you in the first place. 

Like you asked him to do. 

And a sharp pain stings inside your chest.

When you and Nel get to your table, he sits in the seat opposite to where you always do, leaving where Jungkook usually sits beside you, empty. 

A part of you is grateful for that, though you can’t figure out why and table that self discussion for a later date. 

Setting down your things, you ask Nel if he wants coffee. He answers yes, like always, and after a quick visit with Viv, you're pulling out your chair and setting down your cups. Your back faces Jungkook. It’s a small mercy you can’t see him. Maybe you can forget he’s here and actually focus on your work. 

But it’s also exactly because of your position, that you can’t see as Jungkook subtly watches you over the rim of his laptop while you and Nel talk quietly and study. 

Nel can though. 

It feels weird to ignore him. To pretend you don’t know one another when for the better part of the last seven weeks all you’ve done is talk, hang out, study or a mixture of the three, every day. 

When having him sit behind you and not beside you feels so wrong and so foreign. 

But this is your own doing, you caused this. So you need to suck it up and get used to it. 

This is exactly what you asked for all those weeks ago. The perfect solution to your problem. 

No one can know. 

Not Nel. 

Not anyone. 

But fuck, if it didn’t absolutely suck in practice. 

Setting some of your books out around you and on the table Jungkook usually uses, you dig into your business homework. Having a major and a minor are great for job prospects, on paper, and in practice after you’ve completed them.

But getting them? It takes years of hard work and dedication with no distractions. 

None.  

You spend almost every free moment you have doing homework or practicing, trying to get ahead, trying to stay on top.

…Trying to beat Adaline. 

But you just use that as fuel for your drive to be better. To be the best. 

Competition is healthy. Especially when you’re winning against the rich brat who’s used to getting what she wants. 

Not that you're petty.

Ehh…You are. But only a little bit. At least you can admit it.

Nel gets to work as well, the sunlight from his spot is great for drawing. He’s working on a rough version of his thesis project that’s due at the end of the year. He has to have multiple completed renderings as well as a scale model, and he’s been brainstorming since last year about what he wants to do.

Currently, he’s drawing up an airport, trying to design so that it’s not confusing and complicated for first time users. 

However, his occasional swearing and muttering to himself makes you think he’s having a tough time with it. 

You try not to laugh, but a small giggle slips out. 

“What,” Nel asks, a little distracted.

“Nothing.”

“No really, what’s up? I could use a laugh right now,” he insists, eyes on you at first. But then something behind you steals their attention every few seconds. 

Someone. 

“You just…you still make funny sounds when you're frustrated with a drawing. It’s endearing.” You reach to place your hand on his knee, trying to gain back his full attention. 

Ignore him, Nel. Please ignore him. 

“Yeah...” he exhales. “I guess airports are out,” his hand covers yours quickly and you hear a faint chair screech from behind you. Nel doesn’t miss it as he says. “But I do have a much bigger appreciation and understanding for all those who came before me,” pupils now unmoving from their target behind you. 

Fine. 

You’ll acknowledge it. 

“Is everything okay? You keep looking at something? Is there an animal or…” You know what he’s looking at, but go so far as to turn anyway, playing up the ‘confused girlfriend’ role. But Nel squeezes your hand, stopping you. 

He leans in, placing a fake mask of serene on and lowers his voice. “That guy keeps looking at us, moreso you. And he looks pissed off.”

Fuck, think of something.

Anything. Anythi—Oh!

You lean in too, so close your noses almost touch. “He’s probably just upset we’re talking. The greenhouse cafe is usually a quiet place to work,” good enough, you think. That’s believable, right?. “It’ll be fine. Let’s just ignore him and get back to work.”

You place a quick kiss on his lips but Nel isn’t letting up on his unnecessary vigilance. But then again, he doesn’t know that Jungkook is the opposite of a threat to you. So you reassure him, in your own way.  

“Babe, seriously. If you’re going to be all protective or whatever, don’t. I come here everyday when you're not here and I’m still alive and unharmed. Go get a sandwich or a refill to get your head off of it and say hi to Viv. She’s still here, and I’m betting she remembers you. You’re kinda hard to forget.” 

You can tell Nel’s about to reject the idea when you insist. “I’ll be fine, Nel. Promise. Three years and not a scratch on me.” 

He sighs through his nose, but relents. 

Placing his drawing pad on the table, he gets up, but not before placing another kiss to your forehead and mumbling, “Scream ‘cumquat’ if you’re in danger and I’ll come running, okay?” 

You laugh outright at that. “Will do.”

You watch him as he goes, and the second he’s inside, you’re racing for your phone, typing at an astounding speed.

You [1:45pm]: Didn’t your royal upbringing teach you not to stare so blatantly!??? Nel caught you

You hear a quiet ping from behind you followed by a small exhale that sounds more like a disguised chuckle. 

PJK [1:45pm]: Yes.  

You [1:45pm]: So you intentionally got caught?

PJK [1:45pm]: Maybe

You [1:45pm]: Shithead

PJK [1:46pm]: Rude

You [1:46pm]: You deserve it

PJK [1:46pm]: I know. I’m just making sure he’s treating you right.  PJK [1:47pm]: and trying to see if he acts differently when he knows he’s being watched. He’s very protective you know 

Jungkook saw the second Nel noticed he was watching you. 

His posture changed from easy going to on alert. His hand went so quickly to yours on his knee and his public displays of affection increased significantly. 

It was pathetic, really. It went above a normal amount of protection. Nel was claiming his ‘property’, making sure Jungkook knew not to touch. 

And the nasty look Nel gave him as he entered the cafe—gratefully still unrecognizable in his disguise—was another silent way to say back off, stay away, and don’t try anything or you’ll regret it. 

It was a red flag in Jungkook's mind. A small one, but it’s still there because his efforts are completely unneeded. After five years together, Nel should know that you can handle yourself. 

Hell, Jungkook knows that and it’s only been two months. 

You [1:47pm]: yes I know he is, and I already told you he treats me well because he always. Does. Not just in public or under watchful eyes  You [1:48pm]: and since when does my boyfriend of half a decade need your ~princely~ seal approval?

He ignores the small jab. You only ever brought up his title when you were mocking or upset with him. And he knows that in this case it's the latter.

PJK [1:48pm]: Since now PJK [1:49pm]: And it’s not that I don’t trust you at your word, but I usually like to decide for myself

That has you reeling. 

Where does he get the audacity to think he has any say in or about your relationship? Your very solidly built, five years strong, healthy, happy relationship?

Because he’s the Prince? You’re pretty sure you established on day one that you didn’t and still don’t give a fuck about his birthright. 

If he thinks he gets an opinion on any of this he’s got another thing coming the second he asks you anything about Adaline again. 

You’re in the middle of typing out a paragraph explaining all of this when another text comes in.  

PJK [1:49pm]: Because I’ve seen far too many women in love who are blind to certain things PJK [1:50pm]: And far too many hurt in the end because of it. 

You pause. Fingers frozen mid swipe.

Blind to what?

How many women did he know that were in love but missing something about their partner? Surely there couldn't be that many. Right? 

But this was Jungkook you were talking to, he’s lived numerous lifetimes already. That fancy birthright of his you don’t care about having given him far too many life experiences to have at his age. And they’re only going to increase from here.

So instead of hitting send and cursing him out quite spectacularly, you stop and think for a moment. 

What did he see that they didn’t? 

That you might… not?

You’re a decent judge of character if your record tracks. And it does. 

So your curiosity gets the better of you as you delete your rage paragraph and settle for a simple two word question instead. 

You [1:50pm]: Like what?

You can see that he’s typing out a response but the bell on the cafe door rings and you put your phone down. It buzzes with his response a few seconds after. 

You’ll check it later.

Nel takes his seat again, and you notice he has his sandwich, but also that he’s moved his chair and starts sketching from the new position giving him a direct eye line with Jungkook. 

You internally scoff at that. 

Nel has always been protective. But he was raised that way and you don’t mind too much. You don’t expect him to change his core values for you, just like he never expects you to change yours for him, even when a couple of his are just the slightest bit overbearing. 

But that’s part of a relationship. Give and take and compromise. No one person is going to be perfect for another. It’s healthy to have differences. 

That being said, Nel doesn’t change positions for the rest of the hour. Even as Jungkook packs up and leaves, Nel eyeballs him until he’s out of sight. 

That night while Nel is brushing his teeth and you're lying in bed, you check the text from Jungkook. 

PJK [1:51pm]: Like if they’re getting treated the way they should be or if they’re settling for the best they think they can get or for the first guy that showed interest. The one who hasn’t grown up even though time has passed. The one who’s holding her back by not setting her free

You stare at your phone. At the text. At his words. 

And dismiss it. 

You aren’t one of those women. 

You know yourself. 

You know what you deserve and how you should be treated. You didn’t settle, you just happened to find your love at a young age. That’s something special and rare and should be protected. And Nel has most certainly grown up as time passed. 

Jungkook is being ridiculous for absolutely no reason. Surely he’ll have seen that today. Seen how Nel loves you, treats you how you deserve to be treated, holds you up. Supports you. 

You’re confident he’ll be eating his words soon enough.

Finished brushing, Nel comes back to the bedroom and snuggles up behind you and you put down your phone. 

He cuddles you for a minute before placing a kiss at your neck. Then another. And another before he’s mouthing up your neck, and sliding a hand up your thigh and to your waist. It pauses on your stomach with teasing caresses, before dipping lower and lower, beneath the fabric of your sleep shorts, and under the elastic of your underwear. 

A small moan sounds in your throat at the touch. His fingers meeting your folds and the sensitive bundle of nerves at their apex.

You wanted this. 

Need it. 

He’s grown, you think; as a finger slips in you and you gasp at the stretch, legs opening wider for him. A second finger plunges in and you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every thrust. Just like you can feel a bulge forming behind you. 

You know what you deserve; as he uses them to scissor you open, making sure you’re ready. You roll over, now on your back with Nel over you as he pulls your shorts and underwear down to get better access, your own hands removing your shirt.

You’re not settling; as Nel moves down, tongue making a couple swipes at your entrance and you hiss in pleasure before he’s reaching over, grabbing a condom from the nightstand drawer and sliding it on, length hard and dripping at the sight of you bared before him. 

Nel wasn’t the first guy who’d shown interest, just the first you’d said yes to; and he slides in. Both of you moaning at the snug fit.

“Fuck...” he says and you nod, agreeing, before pulling him down into a deep kiss.

He eases into a slow, steady rhythm that has you breathy and his abs tensing. 

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need to erase these past two months without him, and take enough to last for the next two. It’s never enough, but you try. 

“Faster baby,” you beg, “Please…faster.”

Nel isn’t holding you back. Jungkook doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. 

Nel picks up the pace and you start moaning, louder like you know he likes. Likes to hear he’s doing a good job. He’s grabbing your breast and sucking in a nipple, tongue swirling and you're bringing your hips to meet his with every thrust. 

It feels good. It always feels good with Nel. 

He was your first everything. First kiss, first intimate touch, first love. 

Only love.

And he makes you feel good with that love. That touch. His kiss.

He makes you feel safe, inside and out. 

Jungkook can go eat grass. He doesn’t know your relationship. Doesn’t know the first thing about it. 

“There, right there!” you whine as Nel hits your sweet spot once and you arch. He tries again but misses, continuing faster, his peak coming quickly. 

Jungkook can never understand what you two have. What you two have built in these five years. The understanding and security that comes with it. 

He’s being an unrightfully opinionated ass on something he knows nothing about and— 

Fuck! Why are you thinking about Jungkook? You’re having sex with Nel. You shouldn’t be thinking about anything or anyone other than that. 

Than him. 

So why can’t you get what Jungkook said out of your fucking head?

“Ahhh… oh fuck. I’m cumming.” Nel’s hips stutter, his face contorting in pleasure as he releases, filling the condom.

You kiss him passionately to rid yourself of your princely plagued thoughts, the ones filling you with unwanted and unnecessary doubt. You want them gone, gone, gone. Nothing but Nel in their place. 

And you slip an, “I love you,” in between kisses for good measure. 

Jungkook could never understand. 

Nel kisses you back just as hard, dramatically slowing his thrusts, drawing out his high for as long as possible. 

“I love you too.”

Jungkook doesn’t know anything. 

Nel groans into your lips when it becomes too much and pulls out. 

Removing and tying off the condom, Nel goes to the washroom to throw it out and starts the shower he knows you’ll be joining him for when you're done. 

A routine you’re all too familiar with. 

One you created. 

He knows you need a few minutes to get yourself off. 

You’ve never been able to cum from sex with a partner. No matter how hard you tried. No matter what you did. 

Most would think Nel wasn’t a good lover or wasn’t trying enough, but it was through years of constantly trying anything and everything that you learned you just…couldn’t. 

No amount of fingering or oral or penetration from your partner could make you orgasm. 

So Nel knows to wait for you in the shower as you finish yourself off, your own fingers making quick work of it, because you always could for some reason. 

It isn’t your ideal situation, and it isn’t anyone’s fault. But it works. You both get the intimacy you crave and you accepted a long time ago that you were just one of the unlucky few. 

Screams fill Jungkook’s ears as a hand finds his hair and nails rake against his scalp. 

Adaline isn’t a quiet receiver. 

“Ohmygod!” She shouts for the twentieth time. “Yes! There…so goo-oohhhh,” the last syllable turning into a loud moan. 

He’s holding her downwith a forearm by her pelvis, mouth full as he brings out her third orgasm of the night, juices flooding his tongue. 

He’s working out earlier frustrations and proving a point to himself in this fucked up version of self therapy. 

He shouldn’t be. 

But he does.

Has to.

Seeing you today with Cornelius spurred feelings within him that he didn’t know he had. Sure, there were bits and pieces of something stirring he refused to name, but today? 

They were in a whole different ballpark. Different than anything else he’s ever felt before, brewing inside him, bubbling up to the surface even though he’s been trying his best to pop them and shove them down.

Anger? 

Feelings he doesn’t want to have. 

Jealousy? 

Does have. 

Wanting you to look at him the way you look at Nel?

Can’t have. 

Not for… 

He admits he provoked Nel because he could. Dick move, but it was because Jungkook knew just by looking at him that giving you any form of attention would piss him off.  He seemed the type. 

Overly possessive, overprotective. 

Overbearingly so. 

Suffocatingly so. 

Because Nel knows how lucky he is. That you chose him. That you still choose him. 

He knows he has to keep others away. 

Knows he isn’t good enough for you, holds you back. But keeps you anyway.

The selfish prick. 

So Jungkook eyed you up and down, leisurely, and for as long as he wanted. Purely out of the need to prove to himself he was right about his little assessment of your boyfriend. At least that’s what he told himself. 

Was it childish and unnecessary? 

Yes. 

But he was right. And that felt good. 

He could see in your posture and your hushed words you didn’t want Nel’s protection, didn’t need it, and that Nel ignored that wish of yours. Did what he wanted to instead of respecting your ability to make decisions for yourself. Bulldozed your opinions. 

It pissed Jungkook off. 

He’d left a little while after sending you that text to read, but you never did. At least not since the last time he checked. And so he’d made plans with Adaline the second he was out of your earshot. Calling her up and setting a time for what’s currently taking up his primary focus. 

Because even though it was Adaline underneath him, for the very first time, that’s not who he imagined it was. 

Not who he just dragged a fourth orgasm out of with his fingers because he could. 

Because he would. He would be so much better. Give so much more. If only… 

Fuck.

Jungkook stands and drags his cock over Adaline’s entrance, whacking it against her clit a couple times before running the tip through her folds and pushing in. He hisses at the feeling. At who he was sinking into in his head, splayed out in front of him. Skin glistening with sweat mixed with arousal. Mouth open, slack jawed in pleasure. 

Adaline moans loudly and it dissolves his visual. 

His tattooed hand moves to hold her hands above her head, the other silences her mouth. 

“Quiet now,” he whispers, low and deep. A bead of sweat dripping off his brow, hair sticking to his neck and temple.

He intends it to be sexy for her, but in reality, he’s just sick of hearing her. It’s ruining his mental image. Not that she’ll ever know that though. 

To Adaline, this session is all about her and making her feel good. 

But constant screams and loud, pornographic moans aren’t appealing to him in the slightest. They're taking him out of the mood. Making him soft. 

Once or twice when it’s genuine? Sure. But the constant assault she loves to give his eardrums? Not even a little bit.

He sets a fast, rough pace, and Adaline’s eyes roll back in pleasure, screams finally subsiding in white hot bliss, replaced by bitten lips and smothered whimpers.

He is going to prove this point to himself over and over again. All night if he has to. 

And he has to.  

To get whatever it is he’s feeling for you out of his system.

To keep his sanity. 

To forget. 

And while it’s Adaline’s name is on his lips when he cums. 

It’s not the name he repeats in his head like a prayer. 

Chapter Seven: TBA

A/N 2: Thanks for waiting for this chapter. I'll try my best to have 7 out as soon as I can get it. I promise.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[fernlessbastard]

I haven't been online for a while due to lack of time, as well some personal issues, but I just want to say that i obviously don't condone all of the abuse William Gold made Shelby endure. I stand with Shelby, and anyone who does otherwise, unfollow me immediately.

In regards to the characters Wilbur and Quackity from dream SMP, I have absolutely no idea what to do about it all. They've felt more like my characters ever since the end of their direct interactions on dsmp anyway, and frankly almost all of the content I've produced of them is significantly more so based off of me and my partner (however "cringe" that sounds), so it's a difficult situation for me. I won't be deleting any of my posts or art. I don't know what I'll be doing with all of the content I've made but haven't posted, which includes a couple chapters of the Losing Face rewrite. I might turn cQ and cWilbur into actual original characters. I've been thinking about doing a complete redesign either way - the only immediate issue I have is the names, as I can't think of anything that'd fit. If I end up figuring it out, I might try to turn the rewrite of Losing Face into an original story, but that's gonna be very difficult, considering the context needed for the story is Dream SMP lore. The fic is also structured around William Gold's song, which I'll have to obviously change too, if I end up doing anything with it.

If any other tnt duo artists have any thoughts regarding how to tastefully handle this, I'd appreciate it, as honestly, I can't say I'm not still hyperfixated, unfortunately.

For now I'll most likely just see how the situation develops, and decide when my personal life is less of a mess. This whole shit show has hit a little too close to home with my current issues too, so I'll be frank, I don't think I'll be posting anything, regardless of whether it's tnt duo or not.

Anyway, stay safe everyone, and let me know what you think about how i could figure this pickle out

Update: as of now I've decided I'll most likely just keep on creating content of the characters which have belonged to the fandom for years now. The situation with my fic is more complicated, since not just the title is named after the song Losing Face, but also each chapter is named after the song's lyrics, and each of those has been carefully fitted to represent the plot of the chapter. I don't think I feel comfortable with that anymore, and I will have to rework the pacing to fit a different song (I haven't yet decided what song exactly).

[kurtsascot]

Ugh, As If!

read klueless, a klaine!clueless au, on ao3!!!!

HQ Version of Cover Art ; Art Ref Image

Summary: It’s 1995. Kurt’s a senior at McKinley High, and he’s looking to lose his virginity and get his love life in order before he goes off to college.

Unfortunately, Blaine, the pretentious son of Burt’s ex-wife, is in Lima to intern for Burt’s congressional reelection campaign, and Kurt is stuck dealing with him until the election is over.

Art: alice / @warblercore @mistyintherivers

Rating: M*

Key Tags: enemies to lovers, but its more like, oblivious idiots to lovers, kurt’s more oblivious than blaine, romcom shenanigans, 90s slang, humor, virginity, falling in love, forced proximity, first time*, pining, hurt/comfort, fluff, slowburn, kind of ?, internalized homophobia, period appropriate homophobia but like…as little as possible, klaine endgame

Soundtrack (updated as chapters go live)

closeups under the read more !!

[cameron-s-gaskins]

Bit of an update on chapter 2 of ‘Sam Tyler Doesn’t Exist,’ unfortunately I’m running a bit behind, and I don’t think it’s going to be done when I wanted it to be :( A lot of real life stuff going on, but I should have some more time to work on this soon. Don’t worry, it will get done! The line art is done, with the exception of a few of the more difficult panels, and I’m working on color now. Hopefully just a few more weeks. I added some pages, so it’ll be 14 pages, instead of the originally planned 10.

But here’s the first page as a bit of a teaser preview!

[ashensgrotto]

Never Had A Friend (Like Me) - Part 3

Original art piece by pfbatakopd on twitter (Used only for Header. Do NOT REPOST ORIGINAL ART)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (You Are Here)

YandereSoulmate! AU:

Part 1 (Am I Feeling Love?)

Part 2 (Protective)

Part 3A & Part 3B (Poor Unfortunate Souls)

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto X F!Reader

Word Count: 9,105

Synopsis: A chance for redemption comes in the form of a wish…

Author’s Notes: Ok, here we go. I received an anonymous message in my inbox for the next part of the Yandere!Soulmate series and I was actually going to work on it - but with the arrival of GloMas, working on the next part of ‘Raison D’être,’ wanting to finish “Weren’t You Aware, Angelfish?”, AND the holidays, time got away from me and I forgot about Scarabia’s segment for a short while. 

However, because you all seem to enjoy this and want to know if the tako has redeemed himself - I figured I would work to get this part done. Now, warning - Pompefiore’s part is going to take a bit of time to complete because I will have to wiggle my way through my memory bank and replay a few parts of it (which is approx 76 chapters in length for those players who haven’t made it that far into the game yet) since I’m working so deep into Ignihyde’s chapter right now (which is a doozy - I’m still in chapter 67-tower 1, oof help).

This one is also going to be split into three parts - I promise it will not be a long wait for the second & third parts as this is my Christmas gift to all of my readers <3

Thank you all for your continued support!

Notes: Last part of 'A Friend like Me'!

Pompfiore's part will take some time to go through - I'm likely going to be busy up until the second or third week of January, hence I will be taking a short Hiatus from Yandere!Soulmate AU to focus on a few other projects. I will also be updating Raison D’être in the next few weeks after the holidays have passed.

Thank you everyone for your continued support and I will see you in the next story!

Warnings are as follows: yandere behaviors, manipulation, imprisonment, & hypnosis

***

Can your friends do this? Can your friends do that?

Can your friends pull this out their little hats?

Can your friends go - POOF!

***

Azul shook his head as he pulled himself up off the ground after landing, brushing himself off. He took in his surroundings, noticing that he still seemed to be within the Scarabia dorm, but unsure of where. Sands still surrounded him from all angles - making him feel more like a mer out of water than anything else - and a noticeable chill hung in the air, cold enough to make out the fiat traces of one’s breath as it hung in the air. Azl’s eyes shifted around as his mind began to refocus. Where was he? And… where were you?

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)!” he spun around before hearing your grunt as you pulled yourself up from under a pile of sand and fur.

“Owww…” Grim clutched at his head, his eyes screwed shut as he moaned softly, “I really can’t catch a break around here…”

“I feel that…” you sigh, sitting back on your knees, gripping your lower back as you wince in pain.

“(Y/n)! Are you alright?!” Azul moved quickly, his breath coming out in pants as he knelt beside you, his gloved hands tilting your head up to examine you. 

You were covered in sand and were shivering from the cold, your teeth chattering as you took in deep breaths. Your face had a cut on the forehead and your eyes seemed a little hazy, dazed from the landing. You steadied yourself against Azul’s hold, the warmth of his gloves warming your cheeks.

“I’m alive… barely. It felt like he knocked us into next week and then some.”

“It would appear that he flung us some distance. Are you two alright?”

“Fine - given that we were knocked to the ends of the earth,” you answer as Azul pulls you up with Grim in your arms, “Where’s Jade? Floyd? Kalim?”

“Over here, shrimpy!” the tuba voice of Floyd spoke a little ways away as he approached, his arms wrapped around himself, “Brr! It’s seriously cold here. It’s like we’re under the ice floes or somethin’.”

You feel a shudder rattle through you as Azul wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close to keep you semi-warm under the covering of his overcoat. The temperature here was noticeably different from when you were in the Scarabia dorm - it would seem that at the edge of the desert dorm was freezing like the inside of an icebox. 

Jade was crouched beside Kalim, the ex-headwarden of Scarabia, rubbing his forehead as the others approached, “Where am I?”

“Good, you’re awake,” Jade sighed in relief, “I believe we are at the edge of the dimension that contains the Scarbia dorm.”

“So… Jamil literally did send us to the ends of the earth,” Grim chirped in surprise, before glowering, “When we get back there, I’m going ta let ‘im have it-”

“How, though?” you asked, “We don’t have any carpets, or brooms.”

“And with this cold, I doubt Kalim and (Y/n) will last long out here,” Azul nodded in agreement.

“It’ll be a slog,” Floyd shrugged, “but walkin’s our only way back.”

“Floyd,” Azul growled, “we spent quite a bit of time in flight before we landed here. It could take hours - wait, more likely days at this rate - to trudge back on foot. And… I can’t take another minute of you with that voice. I’m tearing up the contract and annulling it.”

“O-oh c-come on, Azul,” you shiver, trying to be light-hearted, “H-he’s h-having f-fun.”

“Having fun, my ass, (Y/n),” Azul grumbled, “That voice is annoying me - even more so than his normal one. Back to the old voice, Floyd.”

“Aww… but I like bein’ all baritone.”

A snap of his fingers and the contract disintegrated, leaving Floyd clearing his throat as his normal voice returned to him.

Kalim let out a soft sniffle then, “Jamil… I trusted you.”

“Hey, you cryin’, sea otter? Your tears are gonna freeze over, ya know,” Floyd asked.

“It’s all my fault…” Kalim sobbed a little harder, “I drove Jamil to the brink without realizing it. The real Jamil would never do such things! He’s a good guy… always helping me… giving me a shoulder to lean on… and… and…”

Azul rolled his eyes. Before he could open his mouth however -

“Isn’t th-that the a-a-attitude r-right there what d-drove him to th-the b-brink?” you asked, your voice shaking still from the cold.

“Wh-what…?” Kalim looked at you in awe.

 “Yikes, (Y/n) - you do go for the jugular sometimes…” Grim spoke up from his spot.

“I’m with shrimpy on this,” Floyd agreed, turning toward Kalim, “Sea otter, you’re… TOO nice. It’s kinda grating.”

“Grating?”

“Yes,” Jade nodded in agreement, “If I were betrayed in the same way you were - I’d lash out with a torrent of unmitigated verbal abuse to break them down mentally, then bind them and drag them beneath the waves. The way you blame yourself and to excuse Jamil’s behavior is… a tad galling.”

“Galling? Really? Kalim asked this as if it was a compliment, “But… Jamil would never betray me…”

“News flash; he did,” Floyd shouted.

“A-And the w-way he w-was m-making you out to be the b-bad guy and get you expelled is even m-more nerve-wracking,” you explain, “H-However… I d-do understand why Jamil d-did it.”

“Huh?” Kalim and Grim looked at you in shock.

“Allow me to explain,” Azul adjusted his glasses, “Kalim - you carry yourself like a goody-two-shoes, laughing off conflict with a flippant word or two. Those remarks, however, are barbs on the skin to those that are calculating and twisted - Jamil and myself being prime examples. They might seem like nothing, but to us - it makes us go crazy and push harder to see you reach your breaking point.”

“And w-when you d-didn’t, Jamil t-took alternative m-measures,” you finish.

“You seem to really know the inner workings here, (Y/n),” Grim commented, looking up at you.

“T-Takes one t-to know one,” you answer, looking at Azul.

“I would argue, though, that in Kalim’s case,” Jade spoke, clasping his hands behind his back, “that it might be simply a case of naturally innocent disposition.”

“So… what you’re saying is… that Jamil’s… a bad guy?”

“Extremely,” everyone says in unison.

“In that case,” Kalim stands, resting his hands on his hips, “I’d better get back fast! I have to punch Jamil and yell ‘Traitor!’”

“You ought to make him march to the oasis and back ten times,” Grim growled, his ears falling behind his head.

“That, and we’ll need to bring him to his senses fast,” Azul agreed, “If we don’t, his magic reserves will run dry and his life could be in danger.”

“And thus that puts us back where this whole conversation started,” Floyd grumbled, “How’d we get back? Walkin’?”

“If there was a river, we could swim back,” Jade commented, looking around, “Though, it appears the rivers here are all dried out.”

“So, lack of water is the problem?” Kalim asked with a knowing smile.

“Of course,” Azul answered, “Floyd and Jade can easily outpace brooms and magic carpets for that matter when they’re in their true forms. However, we can’t exactly restore a river - even my own magic wouldn’t be able to -”

“Maybe you can’t, but I can!”

“What?!”

“‘Oasis Maker’!” your eyes widened, “Kalim! T-That’s it!”

“What do you mean?” Azul asked, looking down at you, “I thought Grim said it was only a glorified waterspout.”

“‘Oasis Maker’ allows me to produce an enormous volume of water with just a smidgen of magical power,” Kalim explained, “If I make you a river, you can get us back to the dorm, right?”

“T-that’s… your signature spell?! That’s insane!”

“It’s pretty useless when you have running water, though,” Kalim shrugged.

“Some countries don’t HAVE that sort of infrastructure!” Azul shouted, “Great Sevens, Kalim! Your power would make you nothing short of a HERO to those people! That’s… that’s… ABSURDLY marketable!”

“Azul!” you smack his cheek light, returning him to the task at hand.

“Kalim, if you would oblige us?” Jade asked.

“Of course! One river coming right up!” Kalim smiled, closing his eyes as magic began to encircle him, “Then water you shall have… and I’ll make it cool and refreshing for you! Respite in the scalding sands, a never ending party. Dance! Sing! Oasis Maker!”

***

The dorm was still cloaked in darkness by the time the group returned, sneaking into the lounge.

The students of the Scarabia dorm all encircled Jamil, who lounged before them in the headwarden’s chair as he ordered the students about, each of them still entrapped in a puppet-like state.

“The good thing is that he hasn’t gone too far to the point of no return yet,” Jade commented, looking over the banister before turning to the group, “Azul - do we have a plan?”

“We’ll have to snap Jamil out of his trance as you’ve done to me,” Azul answered, “But we also need to get close enough for both Kalim and (Y/n) to reach him.”

“Huh?” Grim asked, “What do you mean?”

“I agree, it would be too dangerous for (Y/n) to get involved with this,” Jade answered.

You looked over at Jamil, a feeling and the same urge slowly growing within you.

“You feel it, then?” Azul asked you softly.

You turn and give him a slow nod, “I do.”

Azul huffed - he had little choice in the matter. He turned to the others, “Here’s the plan - (Y/n) and Kalim will take this side of Jamil while Jade, Floyd, and I distract him. Grim - I’m expecting you to form a barrier to keep unwanted guards out of the way.”

“No worries, Azul,” Grim gave a mischievous smirk of confidence, “Grim the Great is at your service!”

“Do you think we’ll be able to pull it off?” you ask quietly.

“Trust me, angelfish,” Azul winked, “You know what to do.”

The group split, hiding themselves among the crowd of students, slowly inching forward toward Jamil.

“Haha! That’s it… go on,” Jamil’s twisted voice spoke as he sat back in his chair, closing his eyes, “keep singing my praises.”

“I never realized what a gallant figure you cut.”

“You oughta LIVE on a throne…”

“Your intelligence is beyond compare.”

“There’s royalty, then there’s you.”

“You look so strong and powerful!”

“Jamil, Jamil, he’s our man, if he can’t do it… GREAT!”

Jamil bolted upright at the sight of the five exiled students standing before him, “Wait, it’s YOU?! I sent you to the ends of this dimension! How did you get back so fast?!”

Kalim stepped forward, a hand in front of you while Scarabia’s headwarden staff was clutched in his hand, “I filled a dry river with water and we swam back.”

“Not that it was a cakewalk,” Floyd growled, “I’ll tell ya - I’m pretty worn out!”

“Tch,” Jamil tsked darkly, “Now I see… you used Kalim’s signature spell. And here I’d written it off as a worthless gift only good for watering plants or filling a pool.”

“Heh - you clearly don’t appreciate Kalim’s power for what it is then,” Azul shrugged, gripping his cane tighter.

“Jamil - I now see what you’ve thought of me all this time. There can be no question now - you are a coward and a traitor!” Kalim shouted, “Face me in combat! I’ll win back the housewarden seat you’ve stolen from me.”

“You accuse me of stealing?” Jamil stood, the overblot power growing around him, “You’re the one who stole everything from me! Now you shall witness my true power! Cower before my might! Phenomenal… cosmic… power!”

A fire bolt was flung and everyone ducked as the puppet dorm launched forward.

Grim blew a wall of fire up, preventing the students from getting involved and kept his guard up should any of them attempt to bypass the barrier. Floyd and Jade shot forward, pens at the ready and spewed fire and flora at Jamil’s attacks, Azul following close behind. Kalim worked from the side, keeping you behind him as he waited for his opening.

Azul dodged an attack, gritting his teeth, “Sevens! How much power has he been hiding all this time?!”

“I refuse to give up!” Kalim shouted, a wave of water mixing with Azul’s ice shield forced Jamil further back, the overblotted vice warden now taking on the defense. 

Suddenly, Jamil’s power made everyone lose their footing, the group falling to the ground, “You little fools… you thought you could defeat the most powerful being on Earth!”

“Jamil! Snap out of it!” Kalim begged, looking up at his friend-turned-enemy, “You have always been powerful! You don’t need that darkness to prove otherwise!”

“You don’t understand!” Jamil shouted, “You always had to be the best! You always had to be better than me! I could never outdo you! I. Wasn’t. ALLOWED. TO! I was FINALLY going to be free… to be number one…”

As Jamil raised his hand, a figure darted to him… and another resounding ‘smack!’ echoed in the room as Jamil fell back.

“Jamil!” Kalim rushed forward, but was held back by Azul.

“Kalim! Wait!” Azul shouted.

“Azul? What’s going on?” Jade asked as he and Floyd watched on.

You stood before Jamil - eyes locked on each other as tears suddenly began to appear in Jamil’s eyes. 

“Jamil…” your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, “I’m so sorry you had to endure that life… to be forced to hide your true self behind the pretense of incompetence, to always be… second-rate. I know that pain of wanting to be number one, too. Life… has truly been unfair to you - but this is not the way to fight back. You fight back… by simply being you - show your true strength in your magic… in your abilities. Then… you’ll get the recognition you want and deserve.”

Jamil’s features shifted before them, an arrangement of anger, frustration, fear… and sorrow. He bowed his head and the darkness slowly receded from his form.

Azul and Kalim moved quickly - Azul to your side and Kalim to Jamil’s. Kalim leaned over Jamil’s form as the vicewarden slowly reawoken.

“Ngh… Where am I?”

“Good,” Azul smiled as he sat with you at Jamil’s other side, “You’ve regained your senses.”

Kalim started to sniffle before large fat tears rolled down his cheeks - the regained housewarden pressing his face into the carpeting as he cried Jamil’s name, “I-I’m so glad you’re alive… so so glad…”

“Must you always be so dramatic?” Jamil sighed, sitting up, “I’m fine.”

“I… I never knew… how miserable you were all this time *sniff* *hic*. A-All this time… I never knew *sniff* just how much I put you through… So, l-let’s just stop. We can stop holding back on account of our social status.”

“Um… what?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly as Kalim explained - relieved that the two could act as rivals for the spot of number one and - to be equals. Azul arched a brow at you in silent question.

“Azul - mind if I talk to you?”

“Not at all, angelfish.”

He followed you out into the hallway, away from mischievous eyes as you took a breath and gave the headwarden a small smile, “First and foremost - I want to thank you for your help. I know that it normally isn’t like you to poke your… tentacles in other people’s businesses unless there’s a deal to be had.”

“(Y/n),” Azul gave you a smirk, resting his hand on your shoulder, “If you recall when you first came here, I said I would take responsibility for you.”

“You also promised to get me home,” you reminded him.

“Yes - I did. The point I’m trying to make here is that… regardless of if you’re in Octavinelle or not, I will still want to protect you - to make sure you’re safe,” Azul answered, “Have I not done just that? Does this not prove that I’m more than willing to at least be there when you need it most?”

You let out a sigh and nod, “I suppose so.”

Azul nodded, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, “(Y/n), I want to be there for you, to help you… will you at least allow me a second chance to prove that I’m more than what I appear?”

You look at Azul wearily, your gaze shifting a bit before meeting his eyes again. 

His sea blue eyes, framed by the semi-rimmed glasses, still held a possessive desire within them - however, hope also burned within. He could have turned you away when you had initially asked for help, he could have ensnared you in a bubble - take away your voice - or even turn you into a mermaid again… and yet he didn’t. As you looked into his gaze, it seemed all Azul wanted… was another chance.

You let out a soft sigh and nod, “I think you should, and I believe you do. I would prefer to rewarm myself back up to you - which means I would like to stay in Ramshackle with Grim.”

Azul nodded, as much as he wanted to argue. He needed to get you to trust him again - which meant he would have to work extra hard to earn your favor again, “Very well. If you would like - I would be willing to help give you a few things that would help with the accommodations greatly. Whatever you wish, I will make it happen.”

“And what will you get out of it?” you ask, already knowing that Azul was looking for something.

“Your time,” Azul answered with a smile, “To be honest, the students of Octavinelle miss working with you. I know the headmage has you running ragged with janitorial duties, but if you could work a day or two in the lounge - I will consider it more than enough payment.”

“And, during my shifts, you’d be able to talk with me while we’re working.”

“Correct,” the headwarden nodded, “Does this seem like a fair deal to you?”

You nod in agreement, “More than, thank you.”

Azul offers a gloved hand, which you took with a shake.

The first steps to amending the bridge were in place… as well as the first steps toward an unknown trap.

[senlinyu]

Hi Sen, I apologize in advance for the intrusive questions 🙈

I Remember you had some health issues last winter, so how have you been?

I know you've got a lot going on with you moving house, {please forgive your wicked greedy fans} , did you find inspiration/motivation to write some of LTDI or it more a matter of lacking time?

Take care 🤗

Hey, I am doing... pretty well. Last year I started forcing myself to prioritize my health more. I have a very bad habit of pushing myself to the limit and ignoring warning signs and then collapsing and getting incredibly sick for weeks or months, and I decided last year that I need to stop doing that. Alternatively I also sometimes push myself so hard I end up with burnout. And sometimes I do both at the same time, which is the most fun. Anyway... at the ripe old age of thirty something I figured I should stop killing myself for the sake or art, or social expectations, and it kind of had to happen cold turkey.

There has been a lot going on lately but I have been pulling out LTDI's next chapters and working on them. Unfortunately one of the issues I'm trying to get resolved currently is all the illegal sales, LTDI has already been listed even though it's not even finished and ngl, it's hard to push on and press towards the finish line while knowing that the instant I get there, I'm potentially going to see listings propagating across the internet. So one of the things I've doing over the last several months is communicating with the OTW's legal scholar to figure things out, and that's been another thing that's been really eating into my fandom/hobby hours.

However, even though that's not altogether taken care of, there's still quite a few chapters left before LTDI is complete, and life is settling down, so a February update is very high on my list of priorities and so is trying to get to point of having a semblance of a semi-regular update schedule so people at least know what to expect.

I really appreciate everyone's patience with me. <3

[soft-girl-musings]

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 5 (Something's Gotta Give)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N, brief mention of past injury, spanish translation at end (courtesy of @queerponcho, thank you beloved)

wc: 3.4k

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

chapter summary: immovable object? the unstoppable force would like a word.

__________

As far as peace offerings go, it’s not the worst.

At least, that’s what you’ve told yourself as you stand outside your neighbor’s apartment, your fist failing to close the distance and knock. In one hand you hold a plate of pastries you’d bought earlier. Hopefully it’s enough.

Before you can raise your hand again, the door whips open. 

Leah Mendoza, ever the force to be reckoned with, stands with arms akimbo and eyebrow raised. “Quit shuffling your feet and come inside, nena.”

You oblige wordlessly. Crossing the threshold, you immediately feel the warmth of her apartment embrace you. Not that she’s escaped the chill that plagues your building; Leah is an artist, and every flat surface serves as either canvas or easel. Most spaces are covered in surreal portraits and near-magical icons, her handiwork displayed as a gorgeously chaotic gallery. Sunlight streams through gauzy curtains to feed sprawling plants and attempts to warm the richly colored rug beneath your feet.

You leave your shoes at the door and hold out the platter, smiling sheepishly. “Hope you still have a sweet tooth.”

“It's been so long, I'm surprised you remember.” Despite her playfully icy tone, Leah’s expression warms as she peeks at the pan de mallorca you hand over.

“...But I suppose going five blocks out of your way for breakfast makes up for it.” She nudges you with her hip before escorting  you to the kitchen.

“Look what the cat dragged in, Caro,” Leah calls out to the seating area as she pours two mugs of coffee. You see your other friend’s smiling eyes light up at the sight of you.

“Ohhh, it’s been ages!” she squeals as she rushes to your side, tackling you with an enthusiastic hug.

Caroline Ngo, the youngest of your trio, has always brought a much-needed energy to your time together. When she and her parents moved in, you and Leah decided to adopt her into your early morning ritual of coffee and gossip. As her rosy cheeks beam up at you, you’re (a bit selfishly) grateful that she’s delayed her college applications by a year. You’re not ready to part with your other baby bird just yet.

Still, you pry yourself from her grasp. “Something tells me you had an early start on the coffee.”

“Maybe,” she drawls as she saunters away. Leah passes you a steaming mug, prepared just the way you like it.

The three of you sit, sipping and smiling as the room grows brighter with the sunrise. Leah regales you with the results of her latest art show; Caroline badgers you for updates about Mauricio, dimpled cheeks flushed as she speaks. For a few moments, everything feels like it used to.

Leah finishes her pastry and turns to you. “So, ‘Ms. Songbird’. How are you?”

You shrug, dismissive. “Oh, you know. The usual.”

“No, I don’t know. You haven't been around for us to see your ‘usual’.” Leah's voice is measured, but she’s clearly frustrated. “Can you tell me the last time we've heard more than a ‘good morning’ from you? Or were together for longer than an elevator ride to our floor?”

You chuckle nervously. “Goodness, maybe… August? September?”

“June.” She sips her coffee before setting it down. “Are things really so busy at work that you can't spare a moment for us anymore?”

If only you knew.

“I'm sorry, ladies. Truly. But things have been picking up at the lounge, I've even had to get outside help–”

“Ah yes, the altar boy lawyer.” Leah shakes her head. “I thought you were done with him.”

“‘Done with him?’ Leah, he's my friend.”

“Oh, I recall. So good a friend that he lets you ice his bruises and clean his cuts.” She crosses her arms. “So good, he's even bringing new friends with the same scrapes to your door.”

“The other night was an emergency–”

“How long are you going to run around with that kind of crowd?” Her voice bites. “Believe me, I know my share of the nightlife. But every time you bring home some broken man, a load of trouble seems to follow.”

This is not where you saw the morning going. “I thought we were spending time together, not berating the company I keep.”

“Please don't be upset,” Caroline pleads, taking your hand from her seat on the floor. “We miss you. You haven’t been home in weeks,” she laments. “At least, not for more than a couple of hours.”

You shift in your seat but give her hand a light squeeze. “I've missed you, too.”

“Then do something about it.” Leah gets up, crossing the room to distract herself with more coffee but then doubles back to look you in the eyes.

“You know my gut is never wrong, nena. And I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't speak my mind.”

You brace yourself as she continues. “You can spend your nights hiding behind your Songbird persona and running the lounge, but don't be surprised if the cage you're building around yourself is locked from the inside.”

With that, she turns on her heel and heads back to the kitchen, leaving you and Caroline in silence.

Slowly, Caroline slides into Leah’s empty seat, her hand still on yours.

“... I always liked your stage name.”

You don’t say anything, instead letting your eyes trail through the patterns on the rug.

She scoots closer. “Leah’s just looking out for you. Like always.”

“I know, Caro.”

You feel her head rest on your shoulder. Tough love has always been Leah’s strong suit; as hard as you are on your boys, it’s bush league compared to your friend.

Caroline’s next words are low, whispered just loud enough for you to hear. “I know that man you were helping.”

You look down at her, dumbfounded. “Really? You know Jake?”

She sits up, eyes wide again. “Well, not technically. I never learned his name. But when he was leaving your apartment, I recognized his face.” Her small smile grows as she speaks. “There were days I’d stay out late after school, and I’d catch a ride from him sometimes. He’s really kind, not like some of the other cab drivers.”

Concern suddenly sweeps across her face. “Is he going to be alright?”

You think back to the morning he left your apartment: his bruises, your stitches, the blood that still stained his coat…

His hand on your hand, your face…

You don’t feel your fingers grazing the apple of your cheek until you hear Caroline giggle. Your hand drops to your lap as your face warms. “He’ll be fine. If he wised up and saw a real doctor, that is.” You shrug, reaching for your coffee.

“You care about him,” she teases.

“Oh, come off it,” you huff, nudging her leg with yours.

“And he obviously cares about you!” She squeals, lowering her voice when Leah turns her head toward the noise. “I saw him leave your apartment, but he stood there for ages, staring at your door.” Her grip on your hand grows unbearably tight. “What happened that night?”

You’ve been asking yourself the same question from the moment he left you standing in a bloodstained gown, your apartment colder without him. Since then, there hasn’t been a moment where you’ve been free from the memory of his face.

“I did him a favor. And… he may have done one for me, too.”

__________

Jake Lockley is man enough to admit when he’s been beaten.

In this case, he's absolutely won over. Head-over-heels, and at your mercy.

Maybe years from now, society adopts stricter rules for how soon you should call on a lady. Even today, some would advise against showing your hand too early. Some men wouldn’t want to seem too eager, too desperate.

But Jake Lockley is not a liar.

If “desperate” is the word for the incessant drumming in his chest each time you come to mind; if it’s what has him cutting corners and driving recklessly, ushering customers along at double the pace so his thoughts can return to you; if it’s why his palms sweat and nerves ache at the memory of your face that night, that morning… then Jake Lockley is desperate.

It’s hardly been a day and a half since he left your apartment, cold and injured. The suit stitched him back together in seconds; the only ache that remained was at the thought of you. You, who scooped him off the pavement and took pity on him. Who stained your hands with his blood to make it stop. You, who set his skin on fire with the smallest touch and had him convinced he would burn with or without it.

Screw the three day rule. He has to see you.

Hot under the collar, Jake now sits at the bar– your bar, long before normal business hours. Next to him is Matt, whose face hasn’t untwisted from the wry grin he’s had from the moment they met up.

“It’s like a jackhammer,” he chuckles into his glass, dodging Jake’s backhand swing.

“Can it, Murdock.” Jake’s hand returns to his own drink. Downing the rest, he raises his glass to the bartender. “Top me off, Mr. Manalo.”

Teddy obliges with shaking hands. He scoops up the bills Jake slides his way before dashing off. The two men had asked for privacy, and he’s determined to stay in their good graces.

Jake knocks back the new drink, swiping the excess from his lip as Matt’s laughter grows louder.

“You really need to calm down.”

“That’s what this was for,” Jake retorts, shaking his glass so the ice clinks against the edge. It’s doing him little good, though; from the moment he snuck in here that stormy night, he knew The Paper Moon as an extension of you. Even with the house lights up and nobody onstage, the lounge makes his heart race as quickly as if you were right beside him.

Matt claps a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be alright, you’ve been through worse.”

“Yeah,” Jake snorts. Matt’s quiet for a suspicious amount of time. “What’s on your mind, Murdock?”

“What’s on yours?” Telltale concern creeps into his voice. “How are things up there lately?”

Jake smirks, the expression not reaching his eyes. “Oh, you know. Loud… and quiet, in all the wrong ways.”

“Seems quieter than before.”

“Yeah?” Jake cocks an eyebrow. His mind doesn’t feel quieter, not the way it should. Khonshu’s been on his ass more often, doubling down when his thoughts dare to drift to anything besides the mission at hand. The god throwing a tantrum has become one of the few guarantees that remain.

“I mean it,” Matt reassures him. “It’s like night and day from when you returned stateside.” 

Jake stirs the ice in his glass, tempted to hop the counter and refill it himself. It takes everything in him to repress the memory of “before,” to not think of the bloody business in El-Alamein. To forget when the occupancy of his mind dropped from three to two.

“Must be the good old American soil.” His sneer drops as he considers his next words. “... or the fool of a pro bono lawyer I managed to snag.”

“Maybe,” Matt says. “Or it could be the little bird that's caught your ear.”

Before Jake can respond, a pair of footsteps cross onto the stage behind them.

He turns to see you and Mauricio, backs to the house, talking in rushed succession as you survey the stage. You’re in a blouse and trousers, your movements easy and unrehearsed despite the growing exasperation in your voice. 

“Maurie, I don't care how Leo feels the lights bounces off his new mustache wax, unless he can't follow my cues he's staying stage left. And–”

“No days off for you, are there?”

When you turn you see Jake, hat in hand and standing a few steps from the bar, as if he’d walked toward you but stopped halfway up the aisle. You can’t place the look on his face, but you're nevertheless pinned under the gaze of his now-healed eyes shining up at you.

“JAKE!” Mauricio startles you when he shouts, leaping off the stage to clasp hands with the older man.

“Hermano,” Jake chuckles, pulling him into a quick hug before letting go. “¿No te andas metiendo en problemas, eh?” 

“¿Parece que tu eres el que anda causando problemas, ey botero? ¿De dónde salió esa cicatriz?" Mauricio leans in, examining the pale line running through Jake’s eyebrow with awe.     

“Ah, just a scratch.” Jake shrugs as he brushes past him to approach the stage and offers his hand as you step down. You accept, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight tremor in your grasp.

“Leave the man alone, Maurie,” you chide, nodding your thanks and holding back a laugh. As much as Caroline fawns over you, Mauricio seems to do the same to Jake whenever their paths cross. It helps that he plays along.

As the three of you walk back to the bar, you notice Matt dial in to something and smile– far from his normal reaction. 

“I’m afraid I can’t offer you more than another drink, I have an appointment with Matthew this afternoon.” You cross over to your friend, whose smile only grows as you draw closer. But you brush it off, still focused on Jake.

“Actually,” he starts, his hand sliding into his pocket, “I was hoping to cut in on your consult time for a moment. That alright with you, doll?”

Matt clears his throat. “Mauricio, can you take me backstage? I should start unpacking this file.”

The drummer perks up. “Sure! But the band’s getting ready to play some poker… you feel like teaming up again? We can split the pot like usual.”

“Even better,” Matt grins. “Lead on.”

He gathers his portfolio and walking stick to follow. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear you could see a moment of panic flicker across Jake’s face.

It’s replaced in a flash with his usual smirk. “Sure you want to risk your pocket change, Matty?”

“If all my clients paid like you do, I'd be out of a job.” He collects himself and follows Mauricio’s footsteps, turning to Jake and mouthing “jackhammer” with a hand to his chest when he’s behind you.

Their footfalls fade and it’s just the two of you at the bar. You take a seat, drumming your fingers on the surface to soothe your nerves. Jake sits beside you.

“You look better.” You notice the scar Maurie was talking about: his former head wound is free of your haphazard stitches, instead healed into a light dash through his dark brow. “But I told you that would scar.”

He shakes his head, brushing his fingers past the spot. “I kinda like it. Gives me an edge,” he chuckles. Maybe Khonshu hadn’t healed his face the way he normally would as some sort of lesson. Joke’s on him.

“How did… I mean, you look really good, how did you recover so quickly?” Now that you’re closer, you realize there’s no sign he was hurt just two days ago. If not for his scar, you could pass that night off as some sort of dream.

“You told me to see a doctor, didn’t you? Looks like I’ve got the best one around.” 

You eye him, not sure what to think. “... yeah, alright.”

Your fingers drum the bar again. Maybe that night knocked all of Jake’s suave confidence from his head: when he’s not speaking (something you’re still not used to), he looks like a child about to lose his lunch. For all his urgency a few minutes ago, he’s taking his sweet time getting to the point.

Finally he sits up straight and takes something out of his pocket. “Here. For you, morena.”

A small black box slides toward you, stopping at your restless fingers. You raise an eyebrow quizzically, a familiar warmth spreading across your cheeks.

“A present? Didn’t take you for the ‘holly-jolly’ type.” You pick up the box, feeling its velvet casing and fighting back a smile.

“Nah, not really a Christmas guy myself. But I figured you could use a pick-me-up.” Jake crosses one arm along the bar, propping his chin in his other hand as he watches you open the box.

Inside, you see a delicate gold chain with a charm fastened to its middle: a small bird with its wings spread, intricate designs etched into its surface.

“Oh my…” You look back at Jake, who seems to have been holding his breath as you examine your gift. 

Your slowly unfolding smile is all the reward he could ask for, breathless laughter pushed from his chest with relief. “For the songbird,” he casually declares, relief mixing with pride at your reaction.

You take the necklace out and hold it to the light. “It’s beautiful,” you sigh. You undo the clasp and try to put it on yourself, but your fingers can’t seem to make it fasten.

“Allow me,” he says quickly, standing to move behind you and assist.

You feel his hands take over and drop your own in your lap. His knuckles brush the back of your neck and it takes everything in you not to shiver. The smell of smoke and spice dances on your senses, pulled away all too soon when he moves to stand in front of you.

“There,” he breathes, eyes going from the pendant draped below your collar to your eyes. “Looks perfect.”

Your fingers grasp the cool metal as you nod. “Looks perfect.” 

Silence falls again. You’ve come to hate the sound of nothing when you’re with him.

Jake’s the first to break it. He sits back down, his next words like a punch to the gut. “You know, now that I’m not driving Wesley around… I won’t have to take up space at your back table anymore.”

“Oh. No, I suppose not.” You toy with the charm around your neck. “So is this… goodbye?”

“That depends,” he says cautiously.  He turns to you, eyes swimming with the same unfamiliar mix of emotions from before. “Do you want it to be?”

Your fingers leave your neck as you meet his gaze. “Don't say you're going all soft on me, cabbie.”

“What if I was?” He leans forward, and for the first time you don't back away.

“Cards on the table: I haven't stopped thinking about you.”

That makes two of us. You bite your tongue to let him continue.

“Morena… would you ever want to get out of here? Just you and me, call it a truce or a… a date.” A smile plays on his lips before his brow creases. “I won't badger you after today, just… one way or another, put me out of my misery.”

The wings of the charm feel heavier with the weight of his confession. Hand to your heart, you feel the bird again, this time with Leah's warning running through your mind.

“I suppose a truce wouldn't hurt.”

When he smiles, wider than ever, you see the charming gap in his teeth. And you smile, too.  You both laugh, the heated stress in your nerves turning to effervescent relief.

You could spend an hour like this. But when you hear shouts of frustration and a bilingual litany of choice words echo from backstage, you know you have to go put out a different fire.

“I should make sure Matthew isn't in trouble,” you sigh, standing to straighten yourself.

“If I know Matt, he's the one causing the trouble.” Jake stands with you, desperate for this moment not to end but anxious for your next answer. “So when can we–”

“Sunday night,” you cut him off, starting to back away toward the stage. “I'll figure out how to slip away, but meet me under the sign at 9.”

You move to rush toward the stage at another outburst, but Jake's hand catches yours yet again.

“You can't keep doing that,” you groan, yet with a smile still on your lips as he tugs you back toward him.

“You're the boss,” he hums, pressing his lips to the back of your hand– the gesture all too routine, but you're ready to admit you've missed it.

He releases your hand and dons his cap, tipping it to you. You laugh again, a rich and easy sound he'd never tire of hearing. You bow slightly and dash backstage, with Jake's voice calling to you as you leave.

“See you Sunday, Songbird."

__________

“¿No te andas metiendo en problemas, eh?” - Not getting yourself into any problems, eh?

“¿Parece que tu eres el que anda causando problemas, ey botero? ¿De dónde salió esa cicatriz?" - Seems like you’re the one causing troubles, hey cabbie? Where did that scar come from?

note: in-universe Jake is Guatemalan and Mauricio is Cuban; as a non-spanish speaker, please let me know how i can improve in the future!

A/N: i've missed these two!! this chapter was a doozy but i'm so happy to have gotten back on track. i won't say PPP is on hiatus (we never had a promised release schedule) but after i take a wee break from writing, i'm set on finishing my Moon Knight Bingo prompts before 4/30 + starting on my OI fanzine entries (!!! exciting times). but if inspiration strikes before i finish, i certainly won't complain.

ty for reading!!

tag list: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mercurysjoy, @importantnightwerewolf, @cupidysm, @queerponcho, @nerdieforpedro, @fandxmslxt69, @shadystarlightgentlemen, @lunar-ghoulie, @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[genericpuff]

Heya!! just wanted to say I'm totally in love with your work and with how are you rewriting their story, I'm so happy I found this.

Is just... idk how to put it but I used to like LO when I was younger and kinda binged it in a couple days, y'know? Now I'm re-reading it as I'm older and I'm like "wtf is this". Might sound silly but is kind of a heartbreak, something I used to like and now I just realize how... not good is it in reality.

So reading this makes me really, really happy. Your work is amazing and is dripping PASSION and love from it and I just love that.

Also- on another note: i read in a couple of chapters that there's a discord?? for some reason the link doesn't work, do you happen to have another one? or is the discord closed for now?

Aaaahhh thanks so much! (｡・//ε//・｡) I feel like every time there's a new update a new flood of people discover it and idk, it just makes me really happy to see so many of y'all enjoying it, I'm having a really great time making it and seeing all the great feedback and reception and comments just makes it even more fun <3

I can definitely share that feeling with how it feels now to go back and reread LO, it's just not the same anymore. I wasn't even that young when I picked it up (grand scheme, yes, but not compared to the folks who picked it up when they were in high school, I was well out of college by the time I started reading it, so like... early-to-mid 20's?) but I was still admittedly pretty naive at the time and rarely noticed the red flags from the start; and when I did, I just brushed them off or went "I'm sure Rachel has something planned for that" which, unfortunately, she never really did in the long run (it took until the trial arc for me to go "oh god I don't think Rachel planned this out" and that's when the rose-colored glasses started to fall off lol)

I made Rekindled for exactly that purpose, to recapture that magical feeling of reading LO for the first time, just like it was for me and many others who shared the same experience back then. It's also really gotten me out of my stubborn ass comfort zone, I've learned so many new art techniques making it and the plot that I chose to go with is one that I adore writing because it's not far from the stuff I normally write (the original foundation for the Act of Wrath plot was the biggest one I wanted to retell because so much of it resonated with me as someone who's written plotlines similar to it in the past).

We do have a Discord! Just note that I always set temporary memberships to invites so pick yourself out a role as soon as you have access otherwise you'll get kicked after a bit ;0 Hope to see you in there!! Thanks so much again for the kind words ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

[steamberrystudio]

31/12/2023 Devlog

Hey everyone! Time for the bi-weekly tumblr update for Steamberry stuff! Except I skipped one because I can't remember why.

I half-wrote it but I think I just wasn't feeling up to finishing and posting.

I haven't been doing extremely well health-wise lately but still powering through.

Summary

Finished writing Chapter 5.5 (the new chapter in WSC)

Finished editing Chapters 6, 7, and 8 of Asher's path

Finished all the profiles for the GS lore book

Have started wrapping up the "side stories" and additional content for the GS lore book

Ramble

Okay so in my last update I was in the middle of editing chapter 5 and was nearly to the start of chapter six in editing Asher's route. I finished up chapter 5...

At that point when I was looking ahead, I started feeling like I wanted to add in a transition scene to move between Chapter 5 and Chapter 6.

As I started plotting out this scene, one of my ideas took on a life of its own and I realised that it might be better to interject a new, fleshed out story incident that would allow me to slow the pacing as well as flesh out the setting and universe a little more. This incident would also let me tie into some earlier events and connect them to something that occurs in chapter 6, also foreshadowing the chapter 6 incident.

Ultimately, this became too much to call a "scene" and I decided to branch it off into a supplementary chapter (IE a chapter a bit shorter than the others and meant to be released along with another chapter.)

Then that chapter ended up being 30,000 words.

So that happened.

After finishing that I went on to finish editing chapters 6, 7, and 8. I am currently on chapter 9. I only have a few more chapters before I'm finished editing Asher's path. As always, during my edits, one of the main things I do is flesh things out.

So obviously the word count has grown from that (and, you know, the 30k extra chapter I invented).

Currently the word count is 468,000 words.

Other Stuff:

I have received several new BGs and a new BG sketch. BGs are continuing to come in at a fairly steady pace.

I now have all the BGs for The Ophelia and the artists are working on other locations finally. OwO

I've also been, here and there, doing small tweaks to the sprites, small additions and fixes.

Gilded Shadows:

As I mentioned, I finally got through all the character profiles. There are so many more characters than I remembered in this game.

Then I got halfway through and realised that I forgot five. And had to insert them, which...meant rearranging pages, which is a pain in the butt. However, that is now complete.

What I'm working on now is finishing up some of the short stories and drabbles I have planned or partially written out and getting them into the lore book. 

As well as gathering any other content. The lore book is currently about 350 pages. And I am really hoping to wrap it up soon.

Upcoming Weeks:

Next couple of weeks I will be trying to wrap up the lore book and wrap up editing Asher's Path.

When I finish editing Asher's path I'll be moving on to finish drafting the end sequences for the four remaining characters. I'm starting to have an idea of where the word count is going to end up but will have a better idea for sure when Asher's edit is complete.

I have written over 100,000 words since mid-August, just plugging away and trying to hit at least 1000 words a day.

I hit my year end word count goal of 466,000 words for When Stars Collide but unfortunately did not finish the draft because the draft has grown in size.

But I am really hoping to finish it early next year so we can fully move into phase 2 of When Stars Collide.

I am also hoping to get the final KS stuff resolved for Gilded Shadows early next year as well (the lore book, art book, and some residual art and stuff).

For now, I shall just keep plucking away at it until it's all done.

And that is all for now. I will see you all next year.

[tervaneula]

Hi! I'm Terv, welcome to my blog!

How to turn off "Best stuff first" so you'll actually see my posts

Here's some handy-dandy info about my stuff. Might heavily edit this later because I'm nitpicky like that lmao, but anyway, here we go!

Art tag: tervdraws Writing tag: tervdrabbles Personal tag: it's terv

Leonardo/Usagi tag: leoichi

AO3: katterv Pillowfort: tervaneula Bluesky: tervaneula

Commissions: Closed Ko-Fi: tervaneula Redbubble: tervaneula

❌ Do not repost or edit my art and writing! ❌

Trans Rights

A little piece about fandom etiquette

My blog is a tcest & apritello & aprileo free zone.

Latest NQK update

Chapter 15: Bonds

A list of my ROTTMNT related fics under the cut. Most of them are illustrated! 💜

General [9/?]

help me believe (that i'm your brother) (G)

The road to recovery has been long but finally, the brothers are well enough to introduce Future Boy to one of the most comforting of habits - the turtle pile. Unfortunately, Casey has some doubts about his place in their family.

please don't be a hero (again) (G) (part 1 of a series)

Donatello needs his coffee. Leonardo finds him first.

lean on me (i'm strong enough) (G) (part 2 of a series)

Leonardo needs to get better, be better. If not for himself, then for Michelangelo - his baby brother shouldn't worry about him as much as he does.

you make me proud, little brother (G) (part 3 of a series)

Raphael worries and Leo's quip goes wrong. However, it leads to an emotional turnaround neither of them saw coming.

a lesson in trust (G)

Leo feels guilty for getting Raph caught by the Krang and refuses to let go of that burden. His big brother isn't having it anymore.

not quite kintsugi, but close (G) (ongoing)

The plan is simple. If all else fails, Michelangelo will make a time gateway for Casey to undo what Leonardo, in his youthful arrogance, started all those years ago; it will require sacrifice, but they are ready for it. Until the moment comes, of course. Or, in other words - what if Future Leonardo and Michelangelo both end up in the present with Casey? Kintsugi (金継ぎ, "golden joinery") is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise. (Wikipedia)

repeat until death (T) (Major Character Death)

A companion piece to Chapter 7 of not quite kintsugi, but close. Leonardo doesn't want to let go. In the end, as long as Donatello is concerned, he never did.

Cold Feet (G)

Leonardo is enjoying his lazy morning… until a certain human teenager disrupts his peace.

some boys do lay eggs (T)

Leonardo is just about to fall asleep when the weight of a body thuds against the side of his bed, startling him awake, but not awake enough to shake him out of the heaviness of near slumber. “Whassit,” he mumbles, sticking his hand out from his blankets and feeling about until his fingers touch the edge of a hard shell. Ah, he recognises the shape – it’s Leo. “...are we boys?” 

sleepless (G)

Leo is so, so tired and goes to his dad. Splinter thinks up a plan to put into motion in the morning - but it seems that he's already helping.

Leoichi (Rise x Usagi Chronicles) [6/?]

with friends like these (G) (part 2 of a series)

Meeting up with his old friends and introducing his new boyfriend to them certainly hadn't been in Yuichi's plans for the day - but it turns out to have been a welcome surprise later when it helps him realise something important about his own feelings.

make your home in me (E) (part 4 of a series)

Click the link to read the summary!

world's end boyfriend (T) (AU)

Leonardo lost Yuichi to the apocalypse almost exactly five years ago. It's now been a year since he, Michelangelo and Casey made their impossible portal trip to the present day, successfully preventing the Krang invasion this time - so imagine Leonardo's surprise when his little brother tells him that they're going to rescue his mate. They only have one chance.

and just like that (T) (ongoing) (part 1 of a series)

What was supposed to be a simple shopping trip to the Hidden City turns into an embodiment of a romcom when Leonardo runs into an unfamiliar white rabbit. Or more accurately, the rabbit's dining table.

soft bunny, warm bunny, little ball of— uh oh (G) (part 3 of a series)

Leonardo feels so lucky. He has the world's softest boyfriend who doesn't mind being treated like a giant teddy bear! Too bad it made him forget something very important.

breathe (and let go) (M) (part 5 of a series)

Leonardo needs a break from his… everything, and Yuichi is always more than happy to indulge him.

cracks never healed (they can heal now) (T)

Their plans for a nice date go awry when Leonardo and Yuichi run into a giant rampaging robot. It's swiftly dealt with, but not without a price.

well worth the wait (G)

Hana has been worried about her adoptive father's new relationship. Yuichi puts those worries to rest.

And that's it! For now. <3

[wheredafandomat]

For Better or For Worse

Chapter 1 Next Chapter Series masterlist

Loki x female reader

18+ | this fic will contain adult themes, smut, swearing, angst - I’ll continue to update. Please be aware that there may be triggering themes in future e.g. loss of child. Please do not proceed if you may be triggered.

“Well bloody get on with it.” Loki cursed, his voice echoing through the grand room as he ran his fingers through his hair. There were few things Loki disliked, one of them being having to spend time with his family, more so his brother considering that now he’d never have to see his his father again. Gently patting Lokis shoulder, Rose looked pointedly at Miss Walters who was yet to open the sealed document sitting in front of her.

“Apologies but I’m just waiting for one more person.” She answered, Lokis brows furrowing in confusion as she spoke.

“One more person? What? We’re all the old fools ever known.” Loki scoffed.

“Loki.” Frigga interjected.

“Have I lied?” Loki shrugged.

“Loki.” Thor spoke warningly as Loki continued to ramble.

“Unfortunately I cannot begin as there is another name here.” Miss Walters cut in, the room falling silent.

“Who’s?” Loki ventured.

“Oh apologies for my tardiness.” You spoke, sauntering into the room as Loki stiffened, his jaw clenching.

“Oh you’ve got to be joking.” He murmured.

“Thank you Miss Walters” you smiled at the solicitor before turning to Frigga and making your way to her “Frigga” you beamed, kissing each others cheeks before your attention was stolen by Thor standing to his feet with open arms. Practically running, you jumped into his embrace before kissing his cheek, unaware of Lokis glaring. “Thorr.” You grinned as he put you down before you finally, finally acknowledged Loki. “Loki” you spoke venomously as if the name burned to recall “and you must be his new bed warmer.” You smiled at the woman sitting next to him.

“Excuse me?” Loki spoke for her.

“I’m joking, it’s all in jest” you lied, holding your hand out to her “lovely to meet you.”

“And you are?” She questioned, looking you up and down.

“No one.” Loki answered for you at the same time as you said “his wife. Well, ex wife” you explained “we didn’t quite work out, you see, Loki has a little problem in the bedroom department and he just left me completely unsatisfied and then there’s the greasy hair and the—”

“Alright that’s enough” Loki cut in harshly before quieting his tone “my mothers present y/n and that was one time, only the once.”

“Apologies.” You smiled curtly before taking your seat for the reading of the Will.

You mainly focused on your new manicure as the Will was read considering you didn’t nor were you expecting to hear your name. You assumed anything you would have been left was taken out after the divorce, although, that wouldn’t explain why your name was still there. You focused harder on your nails as Lokis apparent girlfriend rubbed his shoulder reassuringly, occasionally pecking his cheek whenever another asset was left to Thor. You kept trying to keep focus on the expensive art decorating your nails but your eyes kept venturing to Loki. You didn’t know what to expect considering you hadn’t seen him in well over a year but it wasn’t this. He looked eerily the same, it hurt even more that he did. Last night you found yourself almost praying that he looked different, maybe shorter hair, maybe his style had changed, maybe he just carried himself differently but no, no, this was the same Loki, the one you fell in love with, the one you married, the one you lost.

“My final asset, being my estate, is to be left to y/n y/l/n.” Miss Walters read, instantly catching your attention as your eyes flew up to hers.

“W-what?” Loki questioned, outraged as he stood to his feet before turning towards Frigga and Thor. “Mother? Surely he couldn’t have made that Will with sound mind, there must be a way to contest it.” He insisted.

“I’m afraid not.” Miss Walters answered for Frigga.

“This must be a mistake, she” Loki began, pointing at you “she has no claim to this house or this family for that matter.” He continued to argue, mostly to himself as you mouthed a wow before rolling your eyes, trying to hide your own shock. This was the last thing you expected.

After a while, Miss Walters began packing her things to leave whilst you stood and made your way to Frigga who was being very quiet considering everyone else present were all speaking. Pulling up a chair next to her, you reached into your bag.

“I know it’s nothing” you began, handing her a velvet box which she took gratefully, recognising the design before you hugged her properly. “but I thought you’d want it.” You spoke into her shoulder.

“Thank you dear.” She sniffled.

“I am so, so sorry for your loss and I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

“You’re here now. I’ve missed you.” She answered.

“I’ve missed you too.” You agreed. “And Frigga, I don’t plan on selling the estate, don’t feel you need to leave you can stay here.”

“She’s a bitch.” Rose chimed in as Loki watched your interaction with Frigga.

“Mhm.” He hummed in reply, unable to look away from you.

“Let’s go Loki.” Rose insisted, standing infront of him and blocking his view of you.

Once everyone had dispersed, you took it upon yourself to venture up to the east wing where you used to be when you were with Loki. You were unsure how it looked now and whether or not it had changed. You walked up the stairs, each step reminding you of a different memory before you turned down the hallway to the east wing. You smiled as you saw your old bedroom door, a little bit of paint scratched off near the top from when you banged a piece of furniture against it when you moved in. You opened the door, eyes scanning the room as you gasped a little, surprised that it practically looked untouched, the ghost of your memories still haunting the place. You stepped inside, fingers running over the dusty dressing table as your eyes continued scanning the room. When they landed on a photo album, you picked it up before taking your seat on the bed and flicking through the pages. Pictures of you and Loki filled each page almost bringing a tear to your eye as you ran your thumb over one of the glossy pieces of paper. You both looked so happy, you don’t remember the last time you were happy, truly happy.

You’re not sure when you laid down or when your eyes fell closed but the last thing you remembered was sitting on the same bed as you begged Loki not to go, not to leave and the heartbreak and betrayal that followed when he did go. Some memories were better left forgotten.

This gif has nothing to do with the fic it’s just funny to me 😂 - let me know what you’re thinkinggg, I’ve got a couple ideas for some fics so I think I’ll write some first chapters then whichever one gains a lil traction I’ll continue instead of just boring you all with something self indulgent 😂💓

Next

Tags

@mischief2sarawr @mcufan72 @lokisgoodgirl @lokiprompts @mochie85 @vickie5446 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 18

Here it is, friends! The promised update! A massive thank you to everyone who replied to my prior post. You guys are truly the best and y'all give me the desire to finish this story.

I'll confess, this chapter is short (by my standards). I also feel like its not up to my usual quality of writing, so please give me some grace as I step back into the world of writing and remembering how to use words.

Lastly, if I missed anyone who wants to be added to the new tag list, please let me know!

Words: 3900

Warnings: Violence (both graphic and implied), swearing, Ivar still struggles with feelings

Series Masterlist

The day of reckoning had come. 

A red sun rose that morning. The locals glanced nervously at the sky and muttered under their breath at the strange sight. But Ivar knew what it meant. A blessing on this day from the old gods. 

Everything had fallen into place far more easily than he anticipated, a blessing indeed. The manipulation, the lies shared to convince the traitors to meet with him, feigned ignorance to soothe any worry of their deceptive being known. It all dripped from his lips like poisoned honey, until it was too late. Until the door was shut and a gun was pointed at their heads. Then he dropped the façade and allowed his guile to show. Only then were the traitors introduced to the truth of their failed scheme….and become close acquaintances with his knives. 

It was a day for justice.

A day for vengeance. 

And Ivar relished every moment. 

*****

Amidst the dim light leaking through the few windows into the basement, the stench of dry, stale air, piss and blood permeated. 

Two men knelt on the concrete ground before their executioner. Naked, with their clothing scattered beneath them, cut from their bodies with artful precision. Arms outstretched as in the worship, yet thick rope bound them to this position. Not as devout petitioners, but as those in bondage without even a god able to save them. 

For Armageddon had arrived, led by a blue-eyed devil with a malicious smile and blood dripping from his knives. 

Studying the one still conscious, he casually wiped the traitor's blood from his knife with a clean rag, for he refused to miss a single moment of pain or despair that was to come. 

The trial of judgment had not truly begun yet. This was only the first act. 

A vibration from his phone drew his attention away momentarily as he checked the text. A smirk adorned his face as he replaced the phone in his pocket and returned his gaze to the one before him. 

"They are here." Ivar stated, "should I wake your friend? He's been unconscious for some time now."

The traitor remained silent, his eyes staring at the gray floor, even as blood slid down his skin like raindrops. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, almost as if in meditation. But Ivar knew better. The man was waiting. Biding his time. Enduring the pain until the others came.

Unfortunately for him, no amount of waiting would save him from what was to come. 

Ivar glanced over to the other man on the left. Before he had even been restrained, the man had pissed himself and was begging for mercy, crying out and spewing secrets and half-truths in the futile hope for forgiveness. At the first pass of knives over his flushed skin, he fainted. 

Fucking pathetic. 

At Ivar's command, buckets of cold water had been tossed on the sniveling coward to awaken him. He would not get away from his prescribed torment. Not that easily. Twice the man fainted while receiving his medicine. And twice Ivar had him painfully revived. This third time, Ivar allowed him longer in his brief respite. But no longer. 

The day of vengeance had arrived for those who betrayed the Lothbroks, and Ivar would see they were conscious for every moment of it. 

"Wake him up." 

At Ivar's command, his white-haired driver picked up the bucket at his feet and tossed it on the unconscious man. 

The man sputtered and gagged, returning to the land of the living and the land of his torment. Immediately he began whimpering, as if that could save him. As if anything could save him now. 

The echo of footfalls on the wooden staircase sounded in the basement. 

Ivar's smile widened as he met the pained but calm eyes of the traitor kneeling before him. "Better start fucking begging for forgiveness."

Ragnar came around the corner, followed by Lagertha and Bjorn. A gasp filled the air once they came into sight. A sound of recognition. A sound of disbelief. 

“Please! I'm sorry! He made me do it!” The coward began sobbing, his whole naked body shuddering at the strength of his cries and voice. “Please! I didn't–”

“Silence!” Ragnar roared, drawing close, eyeing both men. A predator inspecting the prey. His bright eyes glared at both men, focusing most of his anger on the one known to him. “You thought you could betray me?” He crouched before them, studying them, reading them. A devilish grin grew on his lips after a moment. “How'd that go?” 

He chuckled darkly as he stepped to the side, already knowing the outcome but here to watch the show. With a quick glance to the side, he gave permission for another to step forward and to hear the case. 

The coward continued to whimper but wisely made no move to steak. A pity really, Ivar was hoping to cut out his tongue. 

"Kalf?" Lagertha asked, coming closer. The initial look of shock faded away, leaving behind confusion and anger. A deadly combination. 

"Lagertha, there's been a misunder-" Kalf started to say but cried out in pain after Ivar hit him on the side of his head with his wolf's head cane. 

Ivar returned the cane to his side, leaning back in his plastic chair casually. "Tsk tsk. You do not speak unless spoken to." He shifted his gaze to his father's first wife. “All the evidence is on the table over there.” 

Lagertha followed the nod of Ivar's head, looking towards a table pressed against the wall. On it were stacks of papers, all the threads from the web of betrayal, cut and laid out to prove his betrayal. Every string, every conversation, every transaction, every knot in the thread. The damning evidence Ivar had been gathering for months. All there in black and white. 

With a resigned sigh, Lagertha glanced down to Ivar. “I believe you.”

Ivar nodded silently, shifting the cane from his left hand to his right, still encased in the damn cast. He had never liked Lagertha and she had never liked him. They tolerated one another but that was the extent, prefering to avoid one another's company in casual or public settings. Except when it came to business. There was an unspoken respect they harbored for one another in this one regard; and for her to take Ivar's word alone on this matter, furthered his respect for her. 

He did notice that Bjorn walked over and started leafing through the papers. Maybe his eldest brother was finally learning to use his half-wit brain. 

The fierce businesswoman moved to stand in front of her lover, seemingly uncaring of the splatters of blood and shredded clothing under her heeled boots. “Why?”

He opened his mouth, eyes full of hurt and hope, but before any sounds escaped, she cut him off. 

“Do not lie to me, Kalf.” She practically snarled, a she-wolf rising in fury, with no sight of a heartbroken lover. 

He gazed at her, tone beseeching. “I did it for us.”

Her hand moved so fast that even Ivar did not catch it until the loud sound of a smack echoed in the basement, followed by Kalf's grunt as his head jerked to the side. 

“If you did it for us, you would have included me in your schemes.”

Kalf worked his jaw before returning his gaze to his lover. “I planned on it, but–” 

Another smack reverberated in the air. 

“Try again.” Lagertha spat out. 

Ivar could see it. The moment Kalf's pretense swiftly crumbled. His face hardened, eyes switching from a hopeful innocence to angry slits. His body tensed as if preparing to fight back, to finally show some spine and no longer take the abuse. 

“I knew we could run the organization better. Make more money and be unstoppable. But I knew…I fucking knew you'd never leave Ragnar. You'd never leave his side because you'll always be his side bitch. So I did what I had to.” Kalf grinned but there was no humor. Blood darkened his teeth, giving him a monstrous look. “Does that make you feel better, baby? I'd have given you everything but you'll always run back to Ragnar. You never stopped loving him, you just got better at hiding it. What a fucking waste. I would have made you a queen!” 

Lagertha yanked out a pistol from the holster on her thigh and aimed it at Kalf's head. Hand steady. Lips in a thin line. Eyes focused on him. A she-wolf ready for the kill. 

Kalf chuckled darkly. “You won't do it, my love. You don't like getting your hands dirty.”

Ivar waited to see the outcome. Ragnar already commanded that Lagertha was to choose Kalf's fate. A fucking waste in Ivar's opinion but he relented. Hopefully he would be given the other one, an example needed to be made. Although the other man was only the accountant to scrub the books and try to hide the betrayal, not the mastermind that Kalf was, he was still involved. That was enough to earn his death. Preferably at Ivar's hands. 

But Kalf's death would be decided by Lagertha. 

Ragnar and Bjorn watched from the sidelines, witnesses to the impending justice against their organization and family. Holding a paper in each hand, fury coated Bjorn's face, understanding of the undermining that had been allowed to run rampant for too long, especially by one he trusted. With arms crossed and an impassive expression, Ragnar watched on. When Ivar caught his eye, he received a nod but returned his gaze to the show, waiting for his ex wife to make a decision. All the papers and what they represented were already reviewed by Ragnar as Ivar discovered the treachery.  

After a long tense moment, a gun shot rang out. Almost deafening in the small basement. Yet no one flinched. The sound as familiar as birdsong for those still breathing. 

Surprise and pleasure flooded through Ivar as the coward's head lolled loosely, brains blown out and splattered on the wall and floor. Payment for his crime painted for all to see.

Kalf jerked his head to look at his accomplice and then back to his lover, confusion and shock in the lines of his face.  

“You shouldn't have dragged Philippe into your mess.” Lagertha calmly said, replacing her pistol at her thigh. “Ivar, he's all yours. Do with him what you want.” She took a step back. “Good bye, Kalf.” Then with the poise of a queen, she turned on her heel and headed back up the stairs, washing her hands of her former lover and his demise. 

In the next moment, a hand landed on Ivar's shoulder. “Good work.” His father commended. He gave him one more fatherly pat before following Lagertha up the stairs. 

Ivar grimaced as he knew his father was following his first wife to help her blow off some steam. Something that happened but no one spoke of. 

A different set of footsteps came to his other side. As Ivar looked up at his eldest brother, a grimace on his own face at his parents, echoed Ivar's own sentiments. With a shake of his head, Bjorn looked down at Kalf who had gone suspiciously silent and still. 

“I thought she would shoot you…guess she thought that was too fucking easy for you.”

Kalf spat out a bloody mess towards Bjorn's leather shoes, eyes blazing and fresh blood trickled down his chin. 

“Have fun with that one.” Bjorn said. “And try to keep your cast clean. Fuck, you'll never get all that blood out.”

“I'll get a new fucking one. Fucking hell.”

“Fine.” Bjorn crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What are you going to do with him?”

Ivar shrugged, examining the man like a piece of marble waiting to be sculpted. “Cut off each of his own fingers and make him eat them?”

“That's disgusting.” Bjorn shuddered. “Don't take too long. We need you in Spain. We got a call on the way here.”

“What happened?” 

“I'll fill you in after your fun, but it sounds like you'll be there a few days.”

“Okay.”

The eldest Lothbrok son opened his mouth for a moment, then stopped to lick his lips before starting quietly again. “Have you…have you heard from her yet?”

There was only one her that Bjorn could possibly be referring to and it made Ivar's blood boil even as his heart shattered. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ivar seethed, fingering the head of his cane, wondering how much trouble he would get in if he broke Bjorn's shins by striking him.

As if sensing the impending violence, Bjorn backed away. “Call me when you're done here.”

Ivar grunted, still beyond pissed his brother would bring her up right now. 

“You know…my mom mentioned that Kalf had an almost irrational fear of fire.” 

At Bjorn's lazy comment, Kalf's head lifted to stare at Ivar, face blanched and eyes wide with panic. 

A truly ferocious grin appeared on the youngest Lothbrok's face at the pure terror radiating from the man before him. Even when his flesh had been pierced with Ivar's knives, beaten with Ivar's cane, the man had endured without fear. Oh, but the sweet scent of terror that radiated off him now…

Ivar barely heard Bjorn's retreating footsteps up the stairs. He turned to look at his driver, his long white hair tied back, highlighting his cruel scar on the side of his face. 

“Toss me your lighter.”

Pleas for mercy tainted the air, but not for long.

*********

As he stepped out of the elevator, it took all of his mental capability to keep his feet moving purposefully and his gait steady. His eyes were gritty and dry from lack of sleep, his body threatened to revolt against his restless mind and collapse in desperate need of rest. He refused to acknowledge it, propelling himself forward. After this one last meeting, he would allow himself to give in and seek the rest his body so desperately needed. 

Ignoring those scurrying around, he passed the several offices on the top floor of Ragnarssons Trading. The scowl he wore must have been fearsome for how quickly it made those plebeians scatter out of his way. Wise on their part. He was in no mood for empathy or kindness, traits he was not commonly known for anyway. He just wanted to fucking sleep. The temptation to stab anyone who tried to stop him was exceptionally high. 

“You live!” 

“Fuck off.” Ivar grumbled, more out of habit than true ill intent. Well, if he tried to stop him, there may be some violence. 

Falling into step with him, Hvitserk looked smart in his gray suit, a clear contrast from Ivar's own rumpled jeans with t-shirt and leather jacket. “How was Spain? No, wait, you were just in Morocco. Or was it Turkey again?” 

“India.”

“Hmm…What I heard, you've spent more time in dungeons and airplanes than in a bed. Those bags under your eyes make you look like a zombie. Ah hell, when did you last sleep?”

Ivar grunted, annoyed with his brother's ceaseless chatter and the reminder of his lack of self-care. “Father in his office?”

“I think so. I was about to go for a late lunch. Want me to wait for you?”

“No, I'd probably fall asleep before the food came.”

Hvitserk chuckled but did not dispute the claim. 

The pair arrived at the door for Ragnar's office. With a quick knock on the wood and a following ‘enter’, Hvitserk opened the door for them. 

Ragnar sat at his large desk, an organized chaos to all the things upon it. Scattered papers and files resided in piles, along with a cheap, tourist paper map of Stockholm spread out and a bronzed human skull which Ragnar refused to admit if it was real or not. Ivar had always bet it was real. 

Torstein also occupied the room, standing behind the desk beside Ragnar, pointing at the laptop screen open in front of them. They must have been continuing speaking of logistics for a particular expansion of goods into Stockholm. 

At their entrance, Ragnar kept his gaze on the screen while addressing him. “I thought you were coming in tomorrow?”

“I can just as easily report today.” Ivar ungraciously plopped into one of the leather chairs in front of Ragnar's desk. He winced at the impact and the sharp pain shooting down his legs. With more care, he set his right hand, still in the cast, on the arm rest. 

At Ivar's audible pained inhale, Ragnar aimed his piercing gaze at his youngest son. “You look like shit.”

Ivar snorted. “The devil doesn't sleep and neither do I.”

That made Ragnar smirk and Torstein chuckle. From the other seat beside him, Ivar could feel Hvitserk's eye roll. Everyone knew that Ivar had been running himself ragged, anything to keep himself busy, which usually involved his face glued to a computer or phone screen or blood on his hands. Ever since Kalf's fall from grace and his fiery demise, Ivar had been cauterizing the wound left in the company…and reminding people what happened when they placed themselves on the Lothbrok's bad side. 

“Suit yourself. Tor, finish this and I'll make a phone call–” Ragnar spoke to his friend but Ivar tuned him out. 

He closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest as he waited. His father was not wrong. He felt like shit. Then again, he had felt like shit for the past three weeks now, ever since Kari had told him she needed space. So he focused on what he could do for the family business. Anything to distract himself from what his heart yearned for. During this time, he learned it was easier to feel physically shitty and move on. It was much harder to ignore and move on when his heart was fractured and bleeding her name. 

Eyes closed, his mind began to drift lazily like an autumn leaf, thoughts moving at a sluggish pace due to his exhaustion. He had tried to sleep in his car on the way here from the airport but sleep eluded him- still too wound up from the flight, too many cigarettes and too much caffeine. The trifecta of sleep deprivation. He never slept on planes, even on private planes, he could never relax enough. Especially when they flew over open water. 

A buzzing from his pocket jerked him out of his almost meditative state. Without opening his eyes, he dug around in his pocket and pulled his personal phone out. Only a few people had his private number, preferring to direct most of his calls to his work phone, which lay silent in his other pocket. 

“‘eah?” He mumbled amidst a sudden yawn. 

A hesitant but professional male voice spoke. “Mr Lothbrok?” 

“Huh?”

“Is this–ah, is this Ivar Lothbrok?”

His brain awoke on full alert at the implementation that a stranger had his personal number. “Who the fuck are you?” Those sluggish thoughts went into overdrive, trying to recognize the voice or how this fucker got a hold of his number. 

“I'm Nurse Olsen, calling from the General Hospital. A patient we have gave us your name and number as an emergency contact. My apologies for bothering you, we just needed to verify. Do you know a Kari Larsen?”

What racing thoughts died a spectacular death by crashing into a wall of shock and disbelief. 

Someone was calling him about Kari. 

As an emergency contact. 

From a hospital. 

Where she is a patient. 

A PATIENT!

In a strange form of whiplash, his brain went from a screeching halt in shock to overdrive of all the reasons she could possibly be in the hospital, each scenario worse than its predecessor. “Is she hurt?” He wheezed out, as his heart and lungs threatened to be strangled with the sudden fear that exploded within him. 

“Sir, I'm not allowed to discuss patients’ wellbeings over the phone–”

“IS SHE HURT?!” He screamed, the building panic in his chest rising higher and higher, suffocating him. 

His mind easily conjured her laying in a hospital bed, nurses and doctors swarming her like parasites, sticking tubes in her, cleaning up her precious blood, all in an attempt to save her. She laid there unconscious to her precarious position. Or maybe she was screaming for him. That was how they got his number. She needed him as she lay dying. 

He drew a ragged breath but it failed to relieve the painful pressure in his chest. Gods, if she died….he promised. He promised to take care of her. 

A new level of loathing sunk its claws into him, a demon from the darkest pits burrowed into his mind, taunting, tormenting. 

He had promised. 

And he failed. 

Again. 

“Mr Lothbrok, are you able to come to the hospital?” The nurse sighed before speaking again. 

“Yes.” He croaked out. 

“Excellent, what you can do is park–”

But the nurse's explanation was cut off as Ivar ended the call. 

Ivar stumbled to his feet, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady himself. The floor beneath him shifted and rolled like waves. Or maybe it was the demon cackling in his ears, messing with his equilibrium. Spots danced in his vision but he ignored them, pushing past. He had to get to her. He had to see her. Was his heart even beating anymore? His chest burned, each breath a struggle to take. As he tried to slip his phone back into his pocket, he realized his hands were shaking. Or was it his whole body?  

What exhaustion previously had taken root was brutally ripped out and replaced with a buzzing, paralyzing panic. 

“Ivar? What happened?” Hvitserk's voice broke through. His hands grabbed his younger brother's shoulders, saving him from falling in his unstable haste to move. “Ivar?!”

“I–I have to go to the hospital.” Tears welled in his eyes, that terror and panic finally having risen to his mind, strangling his rationality, constricting his thoughts until all he could think of was Kari and he failed. 

“What happened? Oh shit. Is…was that about Kari?” Hvitserk's eyes widened in horror. 

“She's there.” Ivar gasped, weakly pushing his brother aside, hands still shaking. ”She's there right now. I have to go– fuck, I've got to see her.” 

Stumbling, forcing himself faster than his crippled legs would allow, to escape the way his chest was collapsing even as he fought for breath, fought for each step. He had to see her. There was no other option. 

She had to be okay. His kitten. He refused. He fucking refused to believe she was dying, even as his mind continued to create horrific scenes. 

This was not how he wanted to be reunited with her. 

Hvitserk grabbed his arm, steadying his erratic pace. “I'm coming with you.”

Gratitude swelled within Ivar but the panic clogging his throat refused to let the words pass. 

The two rushed into the hallway, as fast as Ivar's crippled legs would allow. Hvitserk already had his phone out, calling Ivar's driver to have his car ready at the front for them. At the pounding footfalls behind them, Ivar glanced over his shoulder to see Ragnar following like an intimidating guardian angel. 

Ragnar snarked. “Hurry your ass up or I'll carry you on my back like when you were a boy.”

“You're too fragile, old man.” Ivar managed to retort. 

“Shut the fuck up, you little asshole, and let's go get your girl.”

As the three of them hurried out of the building, the same thought swirled like a growing storm in his mind. 

Hold on, Kari, I'm coming. Just please hold on. 

Tag List:

@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got

[romanceclub-lovers]

Romance Club news recap

⚜️ Kali: Flame of Samsara

✨Art : DIA

📌Height and year of birth of the heroes of the KFS✨

Basic :

⚜️ Deviya Sharma (1877), 164 cm

⚜️ Ram Doobay (1872), 189 cm

⚜️ Kamal Rai (1856), 193 cm

⚜️ Saraswati Basu, (1877), 165 cm

⚜️ Christian de Clare, ( 1870), 187 cm

Minor :

Radha 167 cm

Erith 183 cm

Amrita 162 cm

Vidya 170 cm

Raj 182 cm

Arhat 185 cm

Erith Thakur (1873) 183 cm

📌At this point in the story, Christian is 30 years old.

(There was already a post with their ages, but I decided to duplicate it by including Christian)

Source: Remy TG

Garden of Eden

♟️ Zodiac signs of the characters in the story "Garden of Eden"

♑ Seong-hwa is a Capricorn

♐ Castiel is a Sagittarius

♈ Lia - Aries

♉ Jin Doo-yeong - Taurus

♌ Dean - Leo

📌Anastasia Savina shared information about the date of birth of the heroes of the story “Garden of Eden”.

🔘 Lia - March 25

🔘 Castiel - December 7

🔘 Jin Doo-yeong - April 28

🔘 Dean - August 1

🔘 Seong-hwa - January 15

🔔 Anastasia Savina answered several questions.

📌Question: Why does Mi-yeon have such a strange reaction when she finds Luna and Castiel in the hall at the end of the update, even without taking the paid choice? After all, they were not close to each other.

Answer: Mi-yeon screwed herself up when she saw Cas and Luna in the same room and heard his words. There will be a little more clarification later.

📌Question: How old is the main character?

Answer: 22 years old.

Source: Anastasia TG channel

🧬PSI

📌Alexander Jester drew attention to the question of the possible depiction of Ivo Martin with a completely naked torso.

Question:

“...it turned out that everyone would like to see our Monsieur Martin’s chest in full. How do you look at the rendering of a model with a naked torso and hair in a ponytail?”

Answer:

Jester: "Hello, I heard"

Source: Jester VK page

Love Sin & Evil

Alexander Tepish admitted in his telegram channel that there won’t be many endings in “Love, Sin and Evil,” but it’s worth expecting a variety of endings.

Source: Tepish TG

W: Time Catcher

Art: Swamp Manor

My dear Onyxes 🐈‍⬛

Even though they are essentially the same character, in my head I see them more as brother and sister. Sometimes I really want to write an episode where they are together :)

Since the chapters are not rubber, the scenes are mostly identical, but I like to add small differences from time to time. Monyx, for example, is sad after kissing Nova, and Zhonyx is annoyed that she is being avoided.

It was quite interesting to think about their rooms. Monyx is a bad plant dad, although he tries very hard... while ZhOnyx’s plant never died. In terms of caring for my green friends, I’m closer to Monyx, unfortunately.

Source: Arina TG channel

[kirby-manga-translated]

It's Kirby Time Book 9: Coming Very Soon!

For like months now I've been promising I was going to do a translation of the 9th It's Kirby Time picture book, and it is nearly complete at last! I estimate four days MAX until it's posted on here.

But why did it take so long in the first place? Well that's partially because my attention was split between working on it and doing regular chapter updates, but partially because the art in this book is very pretty and I really wanted to do it justice when I covered up the Japanese text. Unfortunately for me, the art is also very complex compared to my usual fare and I'm not much of an artist in the first place. Ordinarily, the English text I put on can help cover some of it up, but the font I use for these books is really thin and barely covers up anything.

There were a few pages in particular that were especially time-consuming for me. Take a look at this two-page spread I just finished:

Gorgeous, right? All those raindrops falling past the leaves... Well, this is what it looked like before:

In order to cover up the script, I had to extend every single raindrop that intersected a piece of it. With a mouse. And occasionally a trackpad when I was doing it on my laptop. And then I still had to fill in the rest of the background as well.

Here's a gif comparing the two if that helps put it in perspective:

So, yeah!! That took a friccin' while!!! And yeah!!!! I'm basically just making this post because I'm finally done and I wanna complain about it!!!!!

For real though, the pages are looking great and because I've spent so much time making them look this good (yeah im tooting my own horn here but i earned it dangit), I'm actually gonna upload all the textless pages alongside the translated book. Not all of them are two-page spreads like this one, but consider this a little teaser for the full thing! Something to whet your appetite, if you will. Here's a link to it on Google Drive: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/19z8WLah-ZGES2jnyZOILJKc9kE75Wvs9?usp=drive_link

And if you don't think it looks that good or don't think covering up all that text sounds that hard,

well

uh

[aufi-creative-mind]

Updates about what I have been up to.

Things that are in progress!

Currently, my main focus is on completing the LU Spirits series (Formerly known as Farore's Spirits). It is my most ambitious personal project - 9 (12) part series - that I am undertaking by myself. I hope to finally fulfill a 5 year long promise to myself to give this series the artistic glow up that it deserves.

I am also part of the upcoming Denouncement of War: A Hyrule Warriors zine. So do check this out if you are a fan of the OG Hyrule Warrior games!

.

Things that I want to work on.

I plan to shift more focus towards my BotW-TotK Family and Legacy series. I have a lot of stories that I want to show to you all about Link's family and their individual character stories, Pre-Calamity, Post-Calamity and even present day BotW-TotK events. That includes fan fiction stories, including one I have started - Getting to Know You. You can read the first two chapters on A03 and HERE on this blog.

Chapter 3 is slowly being written out with a potential Chapter 4 planned as well.

I also have three folders worth of other Zelda concepts and stories that I want to show as well. Such as the pre-TotK Zelink sketches that I had impulsively made in the lead up to TotK's release last year. I might release them as soft sketches rather than fully rendered pages.

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Things that are put on hiatus...

I have been asked by several people about my LU: Sword's Reveal comic pages and whether I am continuing it. And unfortunately, I will have to put it on hiatus until further notice.

This is because I started that comic long before TotK's release. Specifically when Nintendo made that delay announcement with that teaser of the decayed Master Sword. And the hype that created. So I was originally running on that hype energy of the unknown then. And the other reason was that....I lost the original script for the comic. And what notes I was able to retrieve no longer reflects on what I now know from completing TotK and what have in mind for the story.

So I'm not abandoning the LU Sword's Reveal comic! But it will be some time until I am able to come back to it and rework on the script and the draft pages.

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Things that I am thinking of doing...

For those who may not know, I work as a liasion officer in medical accommodation for families with sick children. And as such, it does take up a lot of my time and energy - physically and especially emotionally - that I am unable to dedicate as much time to making art as I wanted.

I have been considering opening a Ko-Fi or even a Patreon account, but still unsure on how to go about it. I would love to hear your suggestions or feedback on this one!

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So if you've been able to reach this far into this update. Thank you so much for taking your time and wishing you all the good vibes!