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themanip · 4 years

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late nights

SUMMARY — you and bang chan are both equally as stressed out. your solution? sleep with each other. boom, problem solved.

PAIRING — bang chan x reader WARNINGS — mentions of stress and mental health problems, unprotected sex, soft!dom chan, mentions of kinks, really soft, really cute smut basically, crying (not sexually), sad thoughts, angry and frustrated emotions, angsty GENRE — heavy angst, fwb, coming-of-age kind of, smut, romance, porn with a hint of plot WORD COUNT — 4.9k, i got carried away my bad

“How do you deal with stress?”

Chan’s question wasn’t ill intentioned by any means, and as you both sat in his studio, you pondered on whether or not to actually answer truthfully. “I mean, you’re the leader of two more trainees than I was, and navigating as a girlgroup is much more difficult than boygroups,”

“Do you want the honest answer, or the more appropriate answer?” you crossed your legs, Chan’s couch feeling quite comfortable. He stared down at you for a moment, the height of his chair offering him that leverage.

The room was quiet, the lights were dim, and the entire environment was soothing. “Well, honest, of course. No point in me asking if it’s a fib, no?”

You nodded, blowing a puff of air out of your nose thoughtfully. “Truthfully, I use sex. It allows me to physically and mentally drain myself, and I sleep really well after getting fucked. It allows me to refresh the next morning, and my stress, at least physically, is diminished.”

You didn’t look at him until you finished talking, and his face was blank. Once you two locked eyes, he sputtered out, “Oh, I—”

“This is why I offered two options, Chan,” you laughed, and at the lighten of atmosphere he giggled a bit too. “I didn’t mean to, y’know,” he stopped, and you nodded lightly. “I get it, but as of now I don’t do it much anymore. I usually just let out my anger or stress during dance routines or working out but it doesn’t work the same, and sometimes I deliver moves too harshly while dancing.”

“Why not?”

You were unsure what he was referring to, and you crinkled your eyebrows. “How come you don’t do it anymore if nothing else helps the same way?” he asked softly, his eyes swimming with genuine concern.

“I’m a lot more conservative with my body, I just have to trust someone. It’s hard to get to know a guy without them immediately wanting to jump into a relationship. You can’t really do that in what we do, and the second I start to trust a guy things go haywire. I just really have to have a good friendship to have sex, I guess.”

The entirety of the conversation, Chan’s cheeks were turning peach. Even in the dark, dim light, you could see it. “I understand, it’s a very tangible thing. Just giving yourself to someone like that without a basic relationship, platonic or not, is important depending on how you view relationships,”

You nodded in response, and a silence fell over you two. There wasn’t much to be said, but for some reason you decided to blurt out. “If you don’t know how to deplete stress, I suggest it. Just the no strings attached part, because otherwise things get messy and stress becomes inevitable. Just try it sometime, Chan. If you don’t like it, then consider it a learning experience,” you shrugged, and Chan pursed his lips.

“I mean it doesn’t sound like a bad idea, per se. I just don’t know how I’ll casually ask someone to have sex. Most women just run off the moment I mention it, and who knows if they’re even into the same things I am? There’s just so many things to be unsure of.” His chin was now laying on his thumb, and his pointer finger was laying above his top lip. He was deep in thought.

You stood up, which cause Chan to unexpectedly flinch, and he watched you with careful eyes. “Chris, if you ever feel like you need a de-stresser, you know where to find me. Nothing will be weird unless you make it weird. Or we can always just talk, either way, I’m here. I have to go before Sumna comes and drags me out of here, but seriously. Whatever you need, no strings attached. Nothing leaves this room,” you mentioned softly, and his eyes widened at his English name. It’s rather rare you used it, so he pondered the specific use of it in this scenario.

“Thank you,” he muttered simply, and he watched you as you walked out. Was she being serious?

Chan and you had not talked in a few days. Whether it was a crazy schedule, you embarassing yourself, or him not knowing how to approach the situation, you didn’t know. All you did know was that you missed your friend.

You and your bandmates had a hectic schedule today, and as the leader, you’d had to sit in on a meeting with your manager and JYP’s public relations manager. Apparently, Dispatch had caught one of your members, Lanzi, out doing something with another k-pop idol. Dispatch had only obtained two pictures of it, but it was clearly legible on who they were, and what they were doing.

The cost to get those pictures thrown out was much more than JYP would have liked, so she had to sit and get chewed out. Instead of being angry at Lanzi, she became more angry at herself. She had talked to them about things of this sort, but clearly not well enough. It was her job as leader, and she failed doing so.

After a three hour long meeting, you were absolutely exhausted, mentally at least. And now, just after that, was choreography practice. You’d just learned the choreo a few days before, so for the most part you had it down. As lead dancer, you also had to make sure everyone else in your group understood that too.

So, thirty minutes into practice, when none of your members seemed to be latching on, you sighed. Your entire job was to simply lead, and do well. Somehow, you couldn’t manage to do that. Once more, you started the choreography, and told your girls to simply stand back and watch.

You had a slight tone, but you needed them to understand that rhythm is just as important as the real dance moves. Your entire body was covered in sweat, and you were growing more frustrated by the minute.

The way your body moved was no longer elegant, just harsh, angry strokes of somewhat rhythmic actions. You did your best to do it just as you were shown, but the overwhelming anger and emotion in your body was just more than you could handle.

Little did you know, next to your bandmates, stood Hyunjin and Chan. They had come to ask something, but instead found you dancing your angered heart out. All stopped and stared, and Chan could only focus on the way your hips contorted, the patterns your hips followed.

As the music stopped, you turned around, and your eyes widened at the visitors.

“We can leave if you’re busy, Hyunjin-ah just wanted to ask if he could borrow the studio tomorrow, and I wanted a word with you, if that’s okay,” Chan asked, and all of your bandmates went silent, expecting you to take the lead of the conversation.

“Hyunjin-sunbaenim, the studio is yours whenever you need it. Let me know what time, and Chan-oppa, would you like to talk now?”

Hyunjin bowed, and gave a quick thank you before heading out of the room. “Yes, please. If you’re too busy, no worries,” and you looked at your girls and told them to head back to the dorm. You were done for today, no reason to beat a dead horse when clearly today was not a good one to get skills in.

“Can we talk in my studio?” Chan came closer to you, almost a whisper, and you knew this was going to go one of two ways: he was going to fuck your brains out, or he was going to let you know that he did not think of you in that way, and to please never discuss things like that with him again. You don’t think you could handle either, at least not today.

“Yeah, let me grab some other clothes,” you said softly, rubbing your forehead in anxiety. Chan quickly started to mention something, and you shut him up quick. “I don’t—”

“Chan, I’m getting new clothes because I am sweaty and tired, nothing else. I will meet you in your studio after I am changed,” you sighed, your hot knees feeling good against the cool floor of the choreography studio. Your duffle bag now wide open, you grabbed an oversized long sleeve shirt and a pair of loose jeans.

You also reapplied deodorant and some perfume so you didn’t smell like you lived in a sewer, the amount

As your girls were long gone, you felt free to change in the studio. Your clothes quickly fell to the floor, and you were now in more comfortable apparel that is not drenched in sweat. Dreading this conversation with Chan, you swiftly collected your things and moved them to the corner to come collect after you spoke to Chan and was ready to go home.

Guiding your way to Chan’s studio was a walk in the park. The amount of times you’d go in there to talk to him, or for him to let you hear what he’d been working on, was countless. You two had budded a beautiful friendship, and he had been somewhat of a rock. He had always been so sweet, so loving. And you’ve possibly ruined it because you couldn’t think of anything other than sex when trying to guide him through dealing with stress.

Your eyes almost welled at the thought. You couldn’t cry though, not now. So, as you stood outside of Chan’s recording studio, you held your breath for a moment and looked up, letting the tears vanish.

A soft knock sounded, your knuckles rasping at the door. The hallways were silent, and you couldn’t hear a single thing from inside Chan’s studio. Your own heartbeat pounded in your ears, and you tensed as you heard footsteps leading up to his door.

He opened the door, his face showing no clear emotions. He didn’t seem angry, but he wasn’t too happy to see you, either. His hair was clearly ran through by his hand, blonde tufts falling back towards his ears. His makeup was done to perfection, light brown tones covering his lids.

He wore a simple outfit, a loose black hoodie and dark blue sweatpants. He’d changed from earlier, his black ripped jeans now nowhere to be seen. “Come in, you can sit anywhere,” his voice was always soft, even though he could be fuming, his tone would never soar.

“Chan, I just want to say I’m sorry,” you muffled out, plopping down unconventionally on his couch. “I just, I don’t know why I said those things or did that,” at this point, you just didn’t want him to think differently of you. He was the closest thing you had to a mentor, and he was an amazing friend.

If you lost him, or ruined your relationship, you don’t think you could ever forgive yourself.

You pulled your knees up to your chest as he took a seat in his chair, staring expectedly at you. Silence followed, so you continued, unsure of what he was expecting to hear. “I just don’t like you being stressed, and the only way I know how to cope with things is kind of like that, so I figured maybe you could too, and then I offered, and I feel like I just fucked things up between us. I.. just I’m so sorry.”

At this point your eyes had clouded up, and your voice had cracked multiple times. The day you’d had just piled up, and your exhaustion was visible. Chan’s eyes immediately softened, and he felt bad. He wasn’t mad, he just didn’t know how to approach the situation.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, and he stood up from his chair and joined you on the couch. At this point, you’d started full on crying. “I ruined our friendship, and now I’m sitting here crying so you’re gonna feel too bad to be honest with me about what I did wrong,” you were now sniffling hard, and your chest was dense you were surprised you could breathe.

“No, love, that’s not it, I promise,” your heart pumped blood a bit harder at his nickname for you, and he placed a warm hand on your back. “I came here to ask if you were okay,” his tone was now nothing but soft and supportive, and he continuously rubbed your back. Warmth spread throughout your entire body.

“I heard about the meeting, and everyone kept discussing how stressed out you were today,” in the dim light once more, his eyes glowed. They were so soft, so sweet. His entire aura was just warm, loving, and nothing was more assuring.

“No matter what happens between us, you’re my friend, and I care about you,” he smiled softly, “Nothing would change that, unless you like, stabbed me or something,” he laughed soulfully, and you laughed with him. He pulled you closer to him, your head now leaning on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Chan. I just didn’t know what to do, and today has been really shitty,” you smiled, and let your head fall even closer to his chest. His thumbs ran circles around your back, and he held you close. “It’s okay, I understand. Trust me,” a warm silence encased the entire room, and as Chan now cuddled you warmly, your face was now red at the reality of the situation.

“Do you feel a bit better?”

“Yeah, I just needed someone to remind me of how things are and to keep me grounded,” you sighed, and Chan’s thumb was now no longer rubbing your back. His hand had stilled, and all you could hear was the heartbeat from inside Chan’s chest. He was so broad, and the expanse of his torso provided a very comfortable pillow.

“I wasn’t offended, or taken back or anything when you offered, you know that, right?” Chan spoke out of nowhere, the rumbling of his chest vibrating intensely. “I wouldn’t have known, I tried my best to ignore you in case you never wanted to speak to me again,”

A small laugh came out of Chan, and his chest pushed your head a bit. “No, in fact, I think I’ve thought about it a little too much.”

You pushed your head off of him at this point, and resuming your position before he sat on the couch. You pulled your knees back up to your chest, and looked at him. “Really?”

“You said you wanted to have sex with someone you trust, and I feel the same way. It’s really hard to come by good people with good intentions, and you also happen to be beyond gorgeous. Why would I not want to?”

With cheeks now flushed red, you giggled. School-girl giggled, specifically. You had no idea how to take this compliment, but then the realization hit you. Christopher Bang just said he wants to fuck you.

His face also turned a deep scarlet, and he looked down, waiting for a reaction. “Mr. Bang, the things you say. So scandalous,” you both laughed lightly, and you hummed in response to the silence. “If we decide to ever do something, it’s important we talk about it first,” you mentioned, and now the conversation went from light-hearted to a bit more serious.

“Of course, but in what way?”

“I don’t know, what kinds of things do you like? I can’t promise I can pertain to everything, but there’s no harm in trying. Especially if it happens more than once,” you clutched your legs, and Chan leaned forward a bit, his elbows on his knees as he stared ahead.

“Uh, well,” he laughed, and covered his hands with his face. This was the Chan you liked, who could make any situation, no matter how dark, seem light and easy-going. “It’s not really,” he started, beginning to look at you, then stopping himself, “I don’t know. I never usually talk about it like this,”

“Well, how about this: I tell you what I like, and you tell me what you’re willing to do. Just because I like it does not mean you have to do it, but if you enjoy it too, its mutual pleasure, yeah?”

Chan simply nodded, now mesmerized by you. His face completely tracked yours, and you sighed. “I have always loved your hands. I really, really like if you’d put them around my neck, if you would ever feel so kind. I really love being praised, I love being called a good girl, things like that. My favorite foreplay is just making out, I’m just a big softie, but I can take rough if that’s what you like. I’m a big pleaser, and I want to make sure you’re taken care of and get some pleasure out of this,”

Chan nodded once more, and his fingers instinctively wrapped themselves around his rings, twisting and turning. “Your turn, Channie,” you smirked, and he leaned back, a smile crowning his face.

“Well, I really like being soft and intimate, I like any position, bonus points if I see your face,” he smiled, his cheeks burning scarlet. He clearly did not talk about these things often, moreso just played them out in the midst of a high and never spoke of it again. But he and you both knew how important communication was, so he continued.

“I have played around with being called Daddy, but I’m not sure, and if you’re not comfortable with it—”

“If I am that uncomfortable with something, I promise I’ll tell you. Besides, that’s really cute. Rolls right off the tongue, right Daddy?”

He visibily shivered, and you smiled. “I—uh, I like if you’d run your fingers through my hair, not too hard, but like soothingly, kind of? If that makes sense. I also like it if you’d verbalise when you’re, uh—”

You knew where he was going, so you leaned close to his ear and finished his sentence for him. “Gonna cum? Oh, it would be rude not to,” you laughed gently, and you saw the last of Chan’s patience snap like a rubber band.

His hands grabbed your face sternly, yet somehow gently. “Do you want this?” he asked, the lust obvious on his face. Despite any previous conversation, he needed verbal consent to continue, and it would make him feel most okay with doing this.

“Yes,”

The room was now silent, anticipation filling your entire body. You’d come in here crying, and you couldn’t help but hope you’d leave the same way; just a different type of crying.

He pushed you so your back was now flush against the couch, the headrest leaning your upper torso closer to him. “Tell me to stop, and I promise I will, alright? The second you tell me to,” he was now looking you dead in the eyes, above you. Your legs were spread open, and his entire body was in the valley of your abdomen. Both of his arms were on either side of you, perching himself up.

“Chris, just kiss me already,” you whined, and he laughed wholeheartedly, before dipping in. The first kiss was hesitant, exploring new territory. His lips tasted like vanilla chapstick, and the first few were light pecks. It took only a second before he took the initiative and added his tongue to the mixture.

You rarely ever used tongue, most of your hookups barely even kissed, which is why none of them compared. Kissing was your weak point, it was a vulnerability. And Chan did not abuse that power once.

“Is this okay?” he mumbled against your mouth, your exchanging saliva now making more than your mouth lubricated. “Fuck, yes,” you moaned out, the amount of times he would kiss you now making you weak.

His hands dragged softly, and held themselves at your jaw, a classic sweetheart. His thumb was against your cheek so softly, the pads gracefully rubbing across the expanse of your cheekbone.

Everything about this was so domestic, so warm. His kisses were so soft, and full of love. There was no rush, no push to go any farther had you or him decided not to. His warm hands on your face made you purr on the inside, and when he pulled away, he had looked more beautiful than ever.

You had no intention of mentioning the wetness that had gathered between your legs, until Chan was staring at you, and momentarily his eyes widened. “Shit,” he cursed, looking around rapidly. “We don’t have a condom. I’m clean and everything, but we don’t have to continue if you don’t feel comfortable,”

“I have an implant, and I’m clean too. I just want you, if you want me too.”

Chan had no other qualms about it, and he attacked your face in sloppy kisses. “Here, can we switch positions, my arm is hurting?” he asked awkwardly, and you laughed with your entire chest. It was a normal question, but the way he asked so ashamedly, as if it was something terrible.

“Sit up straight, let me get on your lap,” you said softly, and he did as he was told. It was only then that you saw the bulge in his sweatpants, and you forgot that he actually had a male appendage, and from the looks of it, he was either girthy or long. Or both.

As long as he knew how to use it, you’d be fine.

He grabbed you by your hand to help maneuver you, and now your entire weight was on top of Chan. As you finally sat your hips down, he groaned. “Oh god,”

You took his face in your hands, and started kissing him again. At this point, you didn’t want him to be respectful anymore. His hands did not waver from your face, and so you took it into your own hands. Grabbing them both, so soft and calloused, and placed them as discreetly as you could, onto your hips. Moreso your ass, but Chan didn’t know your intentions.

His hands pushed your hips forward, now rutting against his hard on. His lips and yours were now in a frenzy, drenching each other. It was still pretty slow, nothing fast paced, just more intense.

He broke the kiss, and his hands now edged at the bottom of your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asked, breathless. His lips were now swollen and puffy, and his pupils were blown wide.

You nodded softly, no words needed to be said. He quickly hauled the oversize shirt above your head, and groaned harshly when he realized you had no bra on. His first instinct was to latch his mouth onto your nipples, sucking softly. A moan left your mouth, and with nothing to hold onto anymore, your hands found his hair.

Still rocking back and forth, your panties were probably soaked at that point. So much foreplay had you almost throbbing, and you couldn’t wait much longer to have him inside you.

“Chan, please,” you moaned out, and he bit down on your nipple gently. “Only since you asked so nicely,” he added, and he told you to stand up. You did so, easily willingly, yet you loved the way he spoke to you.

It was almost a request, a plea. There was no power imbalance here, simply one trying to find another. He was so gentle, in everything he did. You wanted to drown in that feeling.

He pulled your jeans off without a hitch, and eyed your lace panties hungrily, slightly thankful you’d changed earlier this evening. His fingers grasped the sides, pulling them down your legs. You were now completely bare, and he was fully dressed. This was a problem.

“Not fair, your turn,” you pouted, and his eyes were fixated on your naked body. It felt odd, having him see you like this, but you couldn’t complain. Your arousal was now tainting your inner thighs, and Chan could probably see it too.

He rid himself of his hoodie and his shirt at the same time, and you finally got a full view of him shirtless. This man was absolutely ripped, and you had to hold in a gasp. His arms were lined in protruding veins, and his abs were impeccable. You worked out, but not in your wildest dreams would you ever be able to maintain that nice of a physique.

It wasn’t until he pulled off his pants, and painstakingly after, he patiently pulled his boxers off. God, did he have a pretty cock. A bit longer than average, slightly girthy, and it made your mouth water just thinking about it.

Your first instinct was to pop down onto your knees, but as you were on your way down, Chan grabbed you by the arm. “Not this time, please, I need you,” he whined out, almost painfully.

As you were on top of his lap, you were careful not to let him inside you yet. You figured he could decide when to do it, and you squealed when he let one hand slide from your face, down to your throat. His fingers, covered in rings, squeezed gently. He coaxed another moan from you as he let his fingers glide down the valley of your body, and found itself on your clit.

His movements were slow, but intense. His fingers glided over your folds, picking up some of your arousal, and placed all of his attention onto your little nub. Small pinprick moans escaped your mouth, and you began to tilt your hips in an attempt to get more friction. “Fuck, you’re so wet,”

Some noise semblant to a mew tried to leave your mouth, but his fingers tangled themselves around your neck further, leaving the sound trapped in your throat. “Are you ready? Or do we need to get you a bit more warmed up?” he asked softly, his mouth now next to you ear. His voice was dark, and husky.

“God, I just need you inside me,” you whined, and his hand let up on your neck, and he grabbed his cock harshly. He pumped it a few times, and spread your lips, and lined you up.

“Beg,” he said simply, and even if you tried to sink down, he now placed a hand on top of your hips harshly. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. “W—what?” you asked, breathless.

“Beg, I want to hear you beg for me to fuck you,” he repeated himself, and looked down at you mischeviously. You two were face to face, and his cock was still in his hands, and your lips spread wide open for him to see. “Fuck, please,” you whined, and to no avail, he didn’t budge, “please, daddy, I just wanna feel good,”

As soon as the name sounded from your mouth, he pushed inside of you. The stretch was amazing, it was slightly painful, but it felt like nothing on this earth could amount. His entire cock filled you out nicely, and the lewd sound of him smacking against you was filling the room.

His hands laid at your hips now, piling into you like his life depended on it. His balls were smacking against your ass, and the harsh thrusts stimulated your clit. Everything was so intense, the way he filled you so deeply, you could feel him in places you didn’t know he could reach, and you felt like you’d burst apart the seams.

Shameless moans spilled from your mouth, and Chan was in your ear, grunting like a man starved. “Such a good girl, fuck, for me,” his groans were so animalistic, and the way his hands would hold you steady.

His fingers traveled down to toy with your clit, and he never stopped fucking you. Your fingers started to tangle within his hair, and his lips attached themselves to your neck, sucking, finding anything to latch onto.

The second his fingers started rubbing your clit numbly, you knew that you were going to cum soon. Everything he did just felt so good, you were just a hole the second he started fucking you.

“I—I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum,” you breathed out heavily, and your legs started shaking. “Please, can I—please cum?”

“Yes, cum for me,” he breathed out in a husky tone, and it wasn’t long until you felt your thighs start to involuntarily shake, and the feeling inside your abdomen welling up. “I’m so—” you were cut off by your orgasm rushing over you, Chan’s fingers never stopped stimulating your clit.

You moaned out harshly, slumping towards him, unable to control yourself as one of the most harsh orgasms you’ve ever had washed over you. Your entire body started to seize, and you clenched around him harshly. He continued to fuck into you, sucking into your neck, and he starting fucking into you faster. He was definitely close, “Where-”

You cut him off, still under the shock of your orgasm, “inside me, please,” you begged, and he fucked into you once more, even harder. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,”

He lived up to his promise, as less than a few seconds later, his warm cum spurted inside of you, and he still rutted his hips, begging for more friction. He stroked into you a few more times, now drained of energy. He placed a soft kiss onto your neck, and whispered, “Thank you.”

You got up, and put your shirt back on over yourself, and Chan pulled his boxers and sweatpants on once more. A thought rose over you on whether to leave or not, but you knew Chan would be a skinship type of guy. He would probably have a drop, and not be used to just casual hookups like this.

“Do you want me to stay?” you asked softly, and a large part of you hoped he would say yes.

“Please.”

#bang chan #chris bang #christopher bang #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz #stray kids #cb97 #3racha #smut #angst #fluff #skz angst #skz fluff #skz fic #bang chan smut #chris bang smut #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst

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purplerose244 · 4 years

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Thoughts journal Ninjago season 13!!! 🤩🤩 (3/4)

I am enjoying the season A LOT. The reveal has been thrown already, everything seems to be leading towards something special about Rock Mom and I couldn't hope for something better!! I know Lou will be back so I guess a flashback?... I'M SO EXCITED 💕💕

Alright, let's start!!

DUNGEON PARTY!

Side note, we're past the season and no Nexo Knights reference. Me sad, but me not quitting like ninja!! 💪💪

Korgran of METALONIA?!?! WHERE KARLOF COMES FROM!!! Oh you just love to feed me with good throwbacks, now do you Ninjago crew 😍

Plundar the thief, yeah, the attire gives it away although it is nice. And Fungus... huh... well that explains the mushrooms on the hat I guess 😅

Yep, there we go, a party of adventurers, the DnD situation promised 👈👈 He said loot, I saw a 20 faced dice, nice nice

In these recent seasons adventurers just won't like to do adventures for one reason or another, first uncle Powers, now these guys? I mean Ninjago is in danger every freaking time and you risk your life at every step and there's a new formidable villain every like five seconds but... huh... what was my point again?

THE ANIME STYLE IS BACK 😂😂 Oh boy I can tell we're in for a train to crazy town

I'm thinking this dude looks a lot like He-Man... of course he does, the HECK, am I noticing this just now? 😑

I do agree with mister Korgran's father reluctance about talking like that (I saw too many anime characters like that 😂), but Karlof uses the third person too. Either it's common in Metalonia, or there's a general lack of education there 😅 (I LOVE METAL BOY I MISS HIM 🖤🖤)

Talking axe that doesn't talk, nice 😂

Okay... okay, I need a moment

This is too cute. I know her head is a bit too big but LOOK AT THEM 💛🤍💛🤍 Has Chompy never grown?... wait he did got big that one time... okay... okay, never mind

Well that's a pretty nice party, you got your barbarian, your magic user and your rogue. Kinda misses a healer but still... tomorrow I'm doing a DnD session with my friends and I wanna sound like I know stuff 😂

I just noticed that I haven't seen hidden trap doors like that since Chen, the ABC of villains right there my friends 👆

So the King didn't become evil just because of the skull, he actually wished to obtain it and use the dark power. I get that he wants to defend the city but he is basically remorceless about everything else, so he is guilty. Also DRAGON ABUSER 😡

Poor Vania, but she overcame her Skylor situation very quickly. Proud 💛

There we go with the encouragement, you go Rocky!! We have a crazy Skull dude to turn into dust!! 👿👿

Wait, a promise he made a long time ago? Rock mom?

DUNGEON CRAWL!

ROCK MOM!!! YAAAASSS!!! FINALLY SHE'S HERE!!! 🖤🖤🖤

Oh holy FSM, my heart 💔

MY HEART HURTS SO MUCH. Cole as a kid, Lou is back, Rock Mom IS SICK AND WILL DIE, all the drawings, the picture of them together 😭😭

I cannot, freaking, this kid doesn't want his mom to be sick and he's gotten into troubles at school and she wants him to fight and be strong and right and SHE HAS HIS SAME EYEBROWS 😢😢😢😢😢😢

This scene was really heartbreaking, such a genuine situation with a kid that wants her mom to be fine and proud of him 🖤

Just looked at her VA and it's Erin Matthews 🤩 So first I'm counting it as a Nexo Knights reference just because MACY AND ROBIN ❤🖤❤🖤 Second, wasn't "the mom" going to be voiced by Jillian? Is it... is it Maya? Is she coming back? MAYBE NEXT SEASON??? NYA SEASON?!?!? 🤯🤯

Oh, we're moving on? So... so there's still the stuff about Rock Mom's past to uncover, still unsure if she was the one of the blades for the two tribes

PLUNDAR WE DO NOT DISRESPECT COLE INTO THIS HOUSE VANIA MY GIRL YOU ARE SPEAKING FOR ME TOO 💪💪

The connection between Cole and his mom is the earth itself, I'm loving this concept so much. It's true that he never found himself this deep into his element before, the Caves of Despair were mines but never this deep. This really is rock bottom... HECK YEAH

Well Cole...

Welcome to the colored eyes because of elemental power ninja team!! 💚❤🧡 (without counting the forbidden scroll moments) I LOVE WHEN IT HAPPENS!!! I'M GETTING SO PROUD AND EMOTIONAL!!! I'M PROUDOTIONAL!!! 🤯

Aww, Cole saving his son sensei, very nice. They did save each other a lot 🤷‍♀️

This place reminds me a lot of the Fire Temple where Kai got himself into trouble in season 1 but then saved Lloyd, one of my favorite and most memorable episode of the show... I'M TOO NOSTALGIC RIGHT NOW LET'S MOVE ON

NEVER MIND COLE IS TAKING CHARGE LIKE OLD TIMES HE IS FINALLY THE LEADER AGAIN I'M GONNA CRY ROCKY I'M SO HAPPY YOU DESERVE THIS 🖤

Wu's spinjitzu!! Always nice to see it 😊 And yes Adam is a good boy, and for my arachnophobia is a little freaky saying it 😅

Ah, good Plundar, Cole needs all the appreciation of the world because HE IS SUCH A GOOD PERSON AND AMAZING WARRIOR AND I LOVE HIM AAAAAA

This is probably my favorite episode for now, got Rock Mom, got elemental powers, got a lot of Cole in all of his glory: the leader with a clear smart mind able to lead even strangers, with big heart for what's important 👏👏

I feel like this season is giving him glory, I'm curious about how it will end!!

GRIEF-BRINGER

Okay I know it's the name of the dragon... and it gets me a little antsy 😅

Back to the munce! Still doing as good as ever I see! 😅 And lol, you can't blame Nya for not being nice Jay! Although she is kinda best friends with Ronin who double crossed her multiple times... okay, I see your reasoning Bluebell

There we go, Nya making them listen. I honestly could have seen her just grabbing one of them and make them fly through the the room, still cool though 😎

Back to the geckles! Also doing as good as ever! 😅 These little purple guys are so dang cute, seeing my flame babe trying to lead is so PRECIOUS, and even more PRECIOUS is Zane giving him support... and a rock in the face 🤍🤍

Gotta say

I'm more and more fascinated by their culture 😂😂

Aww little Gleck, everything had started with him after all... wait... HER NAME IS LILLY?!?! ROCK MOM HAS A NAME!!! AND SHE IS GILLIE/MILLIE!!! I KNEW IT!!! 🤩🤩

I think I saw the name somewhere, didn't think it was actually her. I always headcanoned her as Gaia, but Lilly is a very sweet name too 💕

It is pretty nice that even though we as viewers didn't know what happened to Lilly, the ninja knew. It's obvious, they've known each other for so long, but still. It feels nice to see this 😊

Oh-oh, Skull dude is up to something... and he said the title 👈👈

Zane keeps being the sweetest thing ever created, le cute dude 🤍🤍 Never thought I'd see Tin Can and Hothead discussing about lies while two slugs race each other...

I don't know if it's the new animation but the armored suits look CRAZY GOOD, the metal and the details are awesome!! I approve the suits of this season 👍

Pff, they are talking down his sister, if he knew they would be literally toasted 🔥

HUG HUG BEAUTIFUL LEGO HUG!!! And she lifts him up, omg the Smith siblings are back and they are so CUTE 😍

Yep, only he can talk down his sister... and possibly be annihilated right after 😅

Oh, the dragon that almost destroyed the two tribes... OH THE DRAGON THAT ALMOST DESTROYED THE TWO TRIBES!!! 😱😱

NO GUYS DON'T LEAVE LLOYD AND ZANE BEHIND, THEY ARE THE MOST PRONE TO SACRIFICE THEMSELVES 😭😱😭😱😭😱

The cringe Kai, the cringe never leaves you alone you beautiful idiot ❤

I cannot believe the animators managed to make Lloyd's LEGO hair swoosh, I must applaude them 👏👏👏 Also POOR BABY ON THE GROUND GIVE HIM A VACATION FOR CRYING OUT LOUD

Well aren't things getting even more complicated 😅 Where is Cole? We need season superstar pronto!

MASTERS NEVER QUIT

Awww, major throwback to the show's most famous motto right in the title! NINJA NEVER QUIT!!! LET'S GO THEN!!! 🤩

The upply team! With the lava beast back... I could easily make comment about how it could be a representation of Cole's feelings since it's LAVA with EARTH and FIRE, and he is running from them... I'M JUST RAMBLING MOVING ON 🖤❤🖤❤

Cole misses the Caves of Despair maybe, he wants to have a round with the carts like in Possession 😂 Was that why he knew it was going to work eventually? That would be histerical, especially since back then they all almost fell into the lava 😅😅

The Heart of the Mountain? Secret temple of the masters of Earth? Possibly hidden in Shintaro? Spinjitzu Burst? Wu, let me ask you this... just in case... is there... perhaps...

IS THERE SOMETHING YOU SHOULD'VE TOLD US??? 😡😡

He is definitely and officially old, only reason why he keeps forgetting to warn people about stuff 😑 I mean, it's not major like with Morro or Aspheera, I guess it's an improvement?... kinda?

So you learn spinjitzu burst if you're surrounded by your element, that sounds pretty awesome! I wonder how it could be with all the others, this can open up kinda like a quest for the true potential but with different places and lots of OP powers and I'M INTO IT 🤩🤩🤩

Okay season, I get it

YOU WANNA MAKE ME CRY 😭😭 I love this aztec vibe, so cool and appropriate she looks STUN 🖤

I didn't expect this much introspection about Cole, I thought it was going to be kinda last minute like with Jay in Prime Empire. I'm so thankful it's not like that, freaking yes. YES. GO COLE BURST OUT!!

... okay, take your time sweetie, no rush. The other ninja are just going to be fried but eh, happens all the time 🤷‍♀️

VANIA MAH GIRL 💕 I understand Wu, I mean the guys kinda learned all they needed already back when they started to train Lloyd. Ever since then, they had been not master and students, but just family. And you always need family, no matter how far you go 🖤

Awwww, Wu! You got your own development too! 👍 So nice to hear "ninja never quit" again, can't be too sure but it's been a while 😍

Let's hope the guys are doing fine resisting while Team Cole arrives 😎😎

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war--lords · 5 years

Note

Consider this: Magnet, but it going both ways with MC and her suitor. Everyone is staring at these pair of hot damn 'are they models or something someone catch me as I swoon' but they're both so 'secretly-in-love-with-each-other-but-everyone-can-see-it-so-what's-the-truth' that they never realize it? Fangirls and fanboys are instantly turned away because damn how could you even think to contest with MC/Suitor? THEY'RE NOT OFFICIAL BUT DAMNIT SOMEONE MAKE THESE TWO KISS ALREADY--

Okay so brownie points to you, anon, because this is the exact scenario I pictured when I put Magnet on the trope list.

(This turned out differently but I hope you can still enjoy it!)

Masamune x Fem!Reader

High School AU

A knock on the door interrupts you while you read yet another error-riddled report, a job far too annoying to be dealt with in the early morning before homeroom.

“Come in,” you call, fiddling with your pen.

“Senpai,�� a scrawny young man enters the room with a look on his face that can only be interpreted as guilty, “I’m so sorry I’m late, I wasn’t aware that—”

You stand up from your seat, ushering him to come in as he stumbles upon his words. You close the door as you listen, picking up stuff like “first day” and “sophomore” and, a popular one, “sorry”. Gesturing to a desk on the left of yours, facing the other side of the room, you fix him a cup of water from the drinks station.

“Calm down,” you say as soon as it’s clear that he has no plans of stopping. “You’re not late, you’re early.”

That seems to stun him. You offer him the cup, which just slips into his hands like he’s not fully aware of it. He’s no longer catching his breath.

“—but you’re already here?”

“I come early on days when there’s a lot of work—it’s been a couple of weeks since the start of the new school year, which means there’s always something for me to do.”

“I see,” he answers, still sounding far-away.

“Did you eat breakfast?”

“Y-Yes, uh, I’m sorry for bursting in like that!”

“It’s okay. Your name?”

“Sasaki! Sasaki Fumio. I’m the new council member—the Vice President was the one who recruited me.”

“Ranmaru did?” You nod receptively. “I must’ve been unavailable at the time. Well, make yourself comfortable. The previous treasurer is going to be here anytime soon for the handover.”

“Thank you, kaichou!” Sasaki bows deeply, and you shoot him a symphatetic smile, somehow hoping that he’ll catch your unspoken message: you don’t have to be so formal.

As the sophomore familiarizes himself with his new workspace, you return to the report you were reading, struggling to figure out where you left off. At the back of your mind you wonder why the student council’s office in this academy is at least half of the size of its faculty office.

Then you glance at the mountain of folders to your right—ah.

That’s because there’s so much work for you to do.

♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️

Ranmaru might appear as a soft, effeminate boy that laughs at all your jokes, but he can be quite ruthless while doing his job. Right now he’s barraging you with a series of requests from the student body.

“The tea ceremony club asks for your permission to employ a mascot for their recruitment drive.”

“In what form and how big?” You try not to scrunch your eyebrows at the possibilities in the answers, minding your steps as you walk through the hallway from the council office to this crime scene Ranmaru is supposed to brief you.

“Tea bowl,” there’s an unsure pause as Ranmaru matches his pace to yours, walking beside you but looking straight ahead, “…big.”

“Give them the go ahead but restrict their movements to outside the school building.”

“Morning, kaichou!”

“Morning!” You reply back to whoever it was, but never stopping in your tracks, leaving behind a trail of giggles from a bunch of students.

“There’s dispute between the male and female volleyball teams about practice grounds that they’d like you to mediate.”

“What about the faculty advisor?”

“Nakajima-sensei is on paternity leave and won’t be back anytime soon.”

“Good for him, but I think we need to check if the club needs a sub for that. But I’ll mediate.”

“I’ll let them know.”

“Also, don’t you think it would be fun if they can just play against each other to settle the debate?”

Ranmaru laughs—he always has a way to make you feel good about yourself without being dishonest in the very least. “That way we can attract an audience to come and watch.”

“And we sell the tickets?”

“It’ll be nice to have more money for our own recruitment drive,” Ranmaru shrugs, playing along. The two of you arrive just outside the shoe lockers by the school entrance, and in front of you is a sea of students, walking your way, trying to get to class.

“Why is it so crowded here?”

Ranmaru points ahead to the source—a recruitment drive right in the middle of the paved path leading towards the building. There’s a makeshift booth and a queueing crowd. You can’t tell from which club. The only way is to move closer.

Ranmaru leads you towards the front where you can see a sign. Once you’re on the other side of it, you see that it reads

A hug and a kiss for new members! ♥️

“It’s home ec,” Ranmaru supplies, sheepishly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He studies your face as you sigh.

“It’s always home ec.”

You dread the steps you need to take to get to the point of the problem, even with your extremely capable second-in-command having your back. The truth is that the home economics club president has a way of addressing you in ways that make you forget yourself and the responsibilities of your position.

Though it might be true that at the end of the day you both are nobody but regular people, you’d rather not venture into the dangerous things he might rope you in.

“Always the crowd-pleaser, aren’t we, Date-kun?”

The tall form standing in front of the booth takes notice of you, his good eye immediately zeroing in on you.

“If it isn’t our very own student council president,” he says lightheartedly. “Did you finally decide to join home ec?”

“Unfortunately no,” you say, shrugging. There’s nothing particularly cold or passive-aggressive about your exchange with Date Masamune—it’s almost routine. Dare you say, though, it’s almost… fun.

“Too bad. There’s no next year, you know, because we’re graduating and all.”

“Why are you selling your body for the love of strangers, Date-kun?”

He barks out a laugh, head thrown back and hand cupped against his mouth to muffle the sound. The other home ec members are laughing, too. Clearly he’s taken aback. He sighs, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, while you and Ranmaru look on, amused.

“Sorry, I certainly didn’t see that coming,” he says, calming down. “But hey, the more the merrier, right? Aren’t you proud of seeing the academy hosting such a popular club?”

“I would, if only the circumstances aren’t as seedy as this,” you sigh, once again inspecting the a hug and a kiss sign, painted in scandalous hot pink. Not appropriate for extracurricular activity. The queue now looks absolutely embarrassed, the many girls visibly squirming, covering their faces, while the boys feigns interest in the beautiful blue sky above.

“Why even go this far?”

“Well, you know how I’m never satisfied no matter how successful the club has become?” He grins. “That’s why.”

“I doubt you’ll successfully obtain quality leads this way. They’re primary interest is certainly not your cooking courses.”

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes and you automatically feel a physical response: your feet, planted firmer on the ground as if scared that he’s going to sweep you away. A foolish fear, you note, but one that’s entirely possible. There’s no telling what he’s going to do next. You’re made aware of the heart beating in your chest.

“Oh-ho,” he smirks, and circles you once, like a predator around prey. “What are you suggesting, kaichou? That the home ec club is a secret sex den?”

He whispers the last part only for your ears to hear, but even without knowing his exact words Ranmaru reacts, taking a step forward. You stop him with a look. You can handle this.

“You’re not even blushing,” Masamune says, almost in disdain, but now he’s a little close, peering into your face, searching. From your peripheral you see the crowd finally dispersing, not wanting to be caught up in trouble.

“That’s because I’m considering it a possibility.”

He laughs again, softer this time. There’s a smoldering heat rolling off of him, whether it’s his presence or his actual body heat, you can’t tell, but you’re definitely feeling it. You acknowledge this uncomfortable tension, but force away the thought that it might be sexually charged. Of course, Date Masamune is one of the most popular and attractive students in the academy. But that’s that—it’s natural for people to be physically attracted to others. Nothing more.

Right?

“You just lost me a lot of members,” he says, not even looking around him. He keeps staring at you.

“For good reason. Your tactics can be reported to the faculty as indecency and the principal will definitely be involved,” you’re not actually definitely sure about the principal bit, they could always just let him off with a warning since he’s quite a star student in his own way, but no mind. The truth isn’t always a good weapon for intimidation.

“It’s all completely consensual.”

“I understand that part,” you rebuke, sounding harsher than before. Of course it’s consensual—they have full liberty, partaking in the queue. “Consensual doesn’t mean appropriate for school grounds. At least not in our culture.”

He ruffles his hair. He hates the feeling he gets when you scold him for real, as if you’re disappointed in him somehow.

“I want you to know that it’s all in good fun.”

“I’m sure it is,” you soften a little. He’s a boy on the cusp of being a young adult. You understand because you’re just as human. “I’m merely doing my job. And part of my job here is to tell you what to do next.”

He lets out a dejected sigh. “Fire away, ma’am.”

You shoot him a glare at the nickname.

“The home economics club recruitment drive is to be put on hold under the direction of the student council until you’ve submitted a new recruitment drive plan that does not involve hugging or kissing new members, even at their own discretion—and once that’s done, you need to stick to that plan. No more improvisations in the name of good fun.”

“Okay,” he shrugs.

“I’ll even accept the same plan as you’ve previously submitted.”

“Yeah.”

“You better pray that all the chatter about your fun booth doesn’t reach the faculty. If that happens, it’s out of my hands. You do know this, right?”

“Yeah.”

It’s your turn to sigh now, a mix of fatigue and relief. “Plan by the end of today, on my desk. I’ll wait for you.”

“Okay.” I’ll wait for you. Coming from you, that sounds especially nice, he thinks.

“You better stop fooling around, Date-kun. You said it yourself—we’re graduating next year. I’m just saying maybe it’s time for you to take it more seriously.”

There’s something about the way you said it: as solemn as it is severe, that inevitably shakes the one-eyed boy in his core. Out of all his head-butting with you, you’ve never sounded this serious.

He just hopes it isn’t disappointment in your eyes.

You turn around, walking back to the building with Ranmaru following suit, leaving Masamune and a handful of other home ec members standing around the walkway, their booth abandoned and prospective members gone.

♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️

“Whoa—”

He opens the door to the student council office, only to find you standing right beyond it, ready to head out. You look as startled as he is, taking a few staggered steps back to avoid collision.

“You okay?” He asks.

“Yes,” you answer. “I thought you weren’t going to show up.” Again, there’s that discomfort in Masamune’s gut at the thought of you leaving. Did he seem like a person to go against his word like that, just letting you wait for the whole day for something that’s not going to arrive?

The orange sky lights up the room, burning it with orange hues of the sunset. He watches as your silhouette walks back to your desk, the sun stabbing shadows of you on the floor. He follows you and hands you the report. You opt to not take a seat, standing in front of him as you read through the two-pager.

“Looks good,” you say after a few moments. “The same as before.”

“Didn’t want to put my secretary’s work to waste.”

“Wise choice,” you say, offering him a smile as you leave the report on your desk. “Let’s go home. It’s going to be dark soon.”

And as he walks behind you, watching your back as you cross the room, something turns in his mind. There’s a sense of urgency, the kind that he’s not constantly chasing, the kind that is too important to miss. So before you have the chance to reach for the doorknob and walk away, he tugs at your wrist to stop you.

For you, it’s a quick succession of blurred actions, and you find your back pressed against the wall. He’s right in front of you, the tips of his indoor slippers touching yours, and you can feel his breath on your skin. Yours is caught in your throat at the sight of his arresting eye, staring at you with formidable intensity. He’s so close.

Your lips open, and you think you’re going to say something, but your voice fails you.

“You know that thing you told me earlier?” His voice is a rasp, low and secretive, even though it’s just the two of you in a room lit by a setting sun. He senses your silent question.

“You told me that maybe it’s time for me to take things seriously.”

You can’t bring yourself to reply—your wit abandons you, and you fear that any attempt to speak is not going to work. Your throat and lips feel dry.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” he slips his arm around your waist, “that there’s one thing I haven’t taken seriously.” His grip is the right amount of firm and gentle. Heat creeps up your cheek, and you’d blame it on the glaring orange sun, but he’s too smart for that.

His other hand very cautiously reaches out for your face, and when they make contact you somehow fight the urge to lean your weight against his touch. You know this feeling, but you dare not give a name to it.

“The way you looked at me this morning makes me think that you think I’m a mistake.” He sees you visibly surprised at that. “I want to prove to you that I’m not.”

You gasp when he presses his body against you, the warm concrete wall behind you letting you feel your own pulse. His nose touches yours and your lips are but an inch apart. He’s waiting.

“I’m,” you swallow, voice slightly cracking, “I’ve been… considering the possibilities.”

You see his eyes light up.

“And it wasn’t my intention. Earlier, I mean. To make you feel like I’m disappointed in you. It—It’s just something I blurted out.”

His arm around your waist settles you in his grip. He’s getting impatient.

“Let me prove it anyways.”

You can only nod.

He sighs, moving to your jaw to plant a preemptive kiss on your skin, and you shudder when he whispers against it.

“I never noticed how badly I wanted to kiss you.”

Then, with precision and ease, he tilts his head, pressing his lips against your slightly open ones in a deep kiss that knocks your breath away. You instinctively grab his uniform shirt for solace, not trusting that your knees are able to support you. But he’s so snug against you there’s no way you’re going to fall—he’s pursuing you, kiss after kiss, the exchange a series of giving and receiving. You let out a sigh of his name—Masamune, not the usual “Date-kun”—and he feels like he’s losing his mind. His other hand now ventures to the back of your head, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You take turns nipping and tugging at each other’s lips, yours more coquettish to his boldness.

“Ngh, ah,” you moan as he slips his tongue in your mouth, just as you think it’s not going to feel any better. There’s a warmth between your legs, one that he anticipates and encourages, because he has his knee there, letting you rest against it. You feel pleasurably faint.

He lets out a guttural noise when he pulls his lips away from yours, as if reluctant to trade the taste of you for air. You hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears and his heavy breaths mingled in with yours.

He catches you licking your lips, now rosy, glistening, and absolutely swollen, and it’s like he crumbles all over again.

“One more,” he sighs, “do you allow it?”

“Yes,” you reply as breathless as he, and he wastes no time kissing you. His lips are noticably more gentle, his tongue taking the time to map you out, his teeth dragging slowly across your lips leisurely. You’re melting against him, powerless against his wiles, and he welcomes it, letting you grip his collar to bring him closer.

He breathes your name against your mouth and you let out a small whimper—it sounds like music to your ears in a way that you don’t know you needed.

In the waning sunlight, the two of you share one, two, three more kisses in an empty student council office, with him boldly venturing new grounds: your jaw and throat, the skin underneath your school uniform. His knee between your legs, the sensation that he leaves after pulling away from what surely will become a love bite. By the end of it, the two of you are disheveled and the sky is half-indigo. For a moment, nobody says a thing for fear of breaking the spell.

“Let me walk you home,” he finally says, and you’re delighted to find that the spell isn’t broken.

#masamune #masamune x reader #au #reader insert #Female reader #imagine #scenario #imagines #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #cybird #date masamune #Darling Anon #1.5k

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beetlefursuits · 4 years

Text

Why Your First Fursuit Commission Was a Disaster! (or How to Prevent it)

Being approached by a stranger asking you to be THE fursuit artist they have chosen can make you feel AMAZING and eager to say YES!

Out of all the artists out there, they picked you!

The immediate assumption is that you can knock that project out and get some money in your pocket, while filling out your portfolio, gaining some experience, and having some fun!

But pause a moment, step back and think “Am I ready for this? Is this the right client for me? Do I even WANT to do commissions?”

Before you jump into business with someone, consider the following list of reasons that this project (or this client) might not be the correct fit for you.

Six Tips For Success in Choosing Which Fursuit Commissions to Accept (and which to avoid!)

#1. Will I ENJOY Doing This Project?

Is this REALLY something you want to make?

When a new project crosses your eyeballs and you get that excited glow, you can immediately imagine how great it will be to show off the finished product in your portfolio.

But stop and REALLY think about the project you are considering, break it down into every aspect, every small detail that you will have to source and buy materials for, that you will have to construct and sew and cut and sculpt and paint, and then decide how jazzed you really feel about building it.

300 rosettes (you realize only after counting each one) will look amazing but consider sewing each one and how does that make you feel. Sew a test spot just so you can time yourself and feel it out.

Those cool markings? How will you do that? By machine? By hand? Do you have the fur for it in stock? Does it even exist and do you know where to find it?

How will you do the long hair to get that particular shape? Does it have Spikes? Horns? Both? What will they be made from? Have you done it before? Does that prospect of making something new excite you? Or do you feel dread?

If you are not starting it immediately, consider how interested you will still be in a few weeks or months once that initial glow has faded, the deposit has been spent, and what’s left is a pile of materials and the prospect of a lot of hard work.

If there is an aspect of the project that you do not like, consider that future clients will see this work and assume it’s the type of project you wish to do again.

#2. Am I CAPABLE of Completing this Project?

Building a commission is NOT like building a personal fursuit.

With a personal project, you do not need to discuss your ideas with others, you do not need to stick to a reference or plan, you can cut corners with sewing or final finishing, etc.

A commission requires a lot of back-and-forth discussion between the artist and the client. You have to consider the opinion of someone else. You need to accurately size it to a person you have never met and who cannot try it on during the process. Everything has to be finished and durable and clean.

Following are 4 quick tips to consider if you’re ready to accept client work:

Do you know how long it takes (roughly) to build a (non personal) fursuit?

Have you already made and sold artistic liberty/artist-designed/premade projects? When you are starting out, this is how you decide on your pricing and deadlines. It’s not good to enter into an agreement with no idea what to charge or how long it will take you!

Do you have a dedicated work space/guaranteed amount of time available?

Fursuit making takes a lot of space (Huge awkward foam rolls to store and fur to spread out while you pattern/cut. Duct tape dummies awkwardly starfish out their arms and legs all the time and don’t help at all with the sewing) and it’s much easier to work on commissions when you separate life and work areas.

If you currently have other major obligations besides fursuit making (such as work, family, health, and school) which already take (or have the potential of taking) most (or all) of your available time, then it might not be the right time to take full suit commissions. Artist-designed projects and smaller projects will offer more flexibility for unpredictable and limited time—and energy.

Are there a lot of new elements to the project that you have not done before?

Some things may look easy and then when you start building it you realize that it’s much more involved than you expected. This can be a huge drain on your time, your money, and your motivation (which just compounds those first two issues).

An example could be a character with 3 tails. It’s just 1 tail(X3) right? But will they all fit correctly together? Do you make and attach them as one tail or leave them separate? Will they bounce or sit weirdly? Do you now need to make a new ‘side tail’ pattern so they splay out in an appealing manner?

Or say you take on a particularly tall client and you suddenly have to research and develop all new larger hand and foot designs as your current ones do not fit them or the padding you normally make looks too small now and needs to be remade larger.

These are all aspects worth considering. To prevent taking on more than you can handle, my suggestion is to take on no more than one new aspect (that is preferably no more than 10-15% of the project) on each commission that you’ll need to research and develop. You will probably go over time and over budget on these new processes at first (as you gain experience you naturally find ways to craft things quicker and easier) so it’s best to not knowingly take projects that you do not yet have the skills and/or experience to fulfill.

Can you take criticism?

Paid artistic work invites criticism. Sometimes something you make does not work out. You loved it and the client hates it. Or it doesn’t fit. Or it fell apart. That is all part of learning and growing and trying new things. Can you take the corrections, make it right, and move on?

If you feel that you currently cannot emotionally/mentally/physically handle potential setbacks/obstructions/times where things just don’t go your way; stick with non-client projects that are easier to control and fit to your schedule (premade suits. ears and tails. fursuit props.) and revisit commissions further down the road.

#3. Is the Client Displaying Red Flags?

Knowing which clients to turn away is a valuable skill.

As your business grows, it pays in your time, resources, and sanity to know when to refuse a commission (or when to cancel a commission) and to do so as early and gracefully as possible.

If you watch for situations like these, you can focus on cultivating happy, excited, and RESPECTFUL clients who love your work and your preferred artistic style. Not those who try to cut corners or denigrate or manipulate you for their own goals.

Here are 6 ‘red flags’ to consider when picking or accepting client projects.

The client complains (a lot) about their previous artist(s)

Simple, constructive, and legit complaints are one thing (the client says “Artists tend to get this marking wrong so here is how I really want it.” or “My last artist used these materials but it broke so can we try something else.”)

If instead the client immediately gossips about/trash-talks previous artists to you, it shows a lack of social boundaries and the high potential that they will then trash-talk about you/your work in the future.

Poor Quality Reference art.

This one is not a deal-breaker as long as it is not paired with an uncommunicative and/or demanding client.

If the client wants a “sly grey wolf” then we may proceed as long as we both understand that it will be my personal version of that idea and might not match what’s in the clients head.

If the very specifically-desired concept involves complex unclear markings, specific tattoos that are not consistent across the reference, the client’s desired fursuit and the reference do not match, a blurred photograph of a scratchy OC reference, etc; IE ANYTHING you cannot make heads nor tails of.. then ask them to clear this up with a favorite reference artist first and get back to you.

(And If YOU are your favorite reference artist, make sure to charge appropriately for the extra service!)

The client is a child or cannot/will not prove their age.

Children cannot be held to a contract in the USA and most fursuit artists require their clients to be over 18 (many are starting to ask for proof such as a photograph of a legal ID). You may choose to proceed with the project but the contract, payment, and all discussion needs to go through the child’s legal adult caretaker.

A client who micro-manages you and/or your work through constant criticism, proposed changes, or ‘redlines’ of your work.

These clients (though generally well-meaning) are honestly hell on the self-esteem. The occasional suggestion or constructive criticism (as mentioned earlier!) can be very helpful in determining the angle to take on a project or future projects.

But CONSTANT red lines and complaints and ‘suggested changes’ to your work (that they keep suggesting because they don’t even KNOW what they really want from you) means that NEITHER of you is going to come out of it feeling very happy about the art. Cancel and refund them and move on. I promise that it’s worth it.

The client disagrees with the quoted price/requests a discount/attempts to change the commission parameters.

“No” is a complete sentence.

To elaborate on that further; not everyone who asks for a discount is like this but be warned that there ARE potential clients who look for bright new fursuit makers, with the intent to jump on them early and obtain a new commission at a low price by (knowingly or unknowingly) taking advantage of the artist’s inexperience.

I am going to give a fictional example of this situation to show how insidious it can be:

You are still unsure about fullsuit commissions but you say on social media that you’re thinking you could try a head? An acquaintance says yes! Me! PLeeeeese. They seem excited so you agree for an introductory price. This new client chats a lot and seems friendly.

Could they get feet?? Feeling on-the-spot you agree since they’re ‘friends’. You’ve not made feet on commission yet so you underestimate the difficulty and under-charge. The client seems happy tho. They discuss a few changes they want to the head (that they’re sure they mentioned in the initial quote). Maybe you forgot??

This all takes some time and meanwhile they show you some reference art they just got done of a different character and ask to move the commission to this since you don’t have THAT much done yet. Also how much for hands?? They find you at a con and offer to buy you a drink. You restart the work.

A few more rounds of these (or similar) behaviours. The client starts to complain how long it’s taking. Maybe they drive other potential clients away with their actions or threaten an artist beware on you. And eventually you realize you’ve been manipulated and bullied into taking on a complicated fursuit that you had no intentions of making and have very severely undercharged for. Not fun!!

Instead of this situation coming to pass, hold your ground in the beginning and refuse to ‘add’ to a commission or to change a commission after it’s been paid for and/or started. This muddles what you’re working on and allows the client an opportunity to keep changing things forever. (instead treat the add-on as a brand new commission to be started only after the current part is finished and paid for)

Do not entertain those who think you’re not worth the price you’re asking for. Do not give ‘friends discounts’. Friends want to see you succeed!

Other artists warn against working with them.

Get to know other fursuit artists! We are usually happy to vouch for good clients and warn about any particular issues you may experience with others. Sometimes there are issues that prevent one artist-client relationship but can be managed within another and eventually other artists might recognize which clients to refer to you (and you to them).

If you are wondering how to start this type of discourse, there are public groups on Facebook or considering joining a fursuit artist’s Patreon and/or Telegram chat! Many fursuit makers have one (or both) of these with various mentoring tiers.

As an example, all of my patrons are given a link to join my Telegram chat where you can share your work and receive critique from a like-minded audience. At higher tiers you can join my Discord to share and chat in real time.

If there is a fursuit artist that you admire, ask them and see what they offer!

#4. Do I Need The Money?

Fursuits are maybe NOT quite the jackpot they might first appear to be

Fursuits are deceptive. It sounds like a great deal to gain several thousand dollars in one simple cheque, but, if you are not careful with budgeting, if you undercharge, or under-estimate how long it will take; you can find yourself falling into a state of using future projects to pay your current project materials, shipping, taxes, etc; as well as your regular life expenses like rent, car, insurance, utilities, loan repayments, etc.

The simplest practice is to prevent this entirely right from your first commission! My suggestion is to first take on smaller projects with a quick turn-over. This keeps you flexible to increase your prices or change your practices as needed. Then when you have enough savings to keep yourself afloat (so that you will not need to dip into your fursuit deposit money even if things don’t go exactly on schedule), you can take larger projects with longer turn-around times and higher price-points.

If you do find yourself in a situation where you NEED the money immediately; the issue is that you will be much more motivated to take on more difficult clients, less fulfilling projects you don’t really like, and overall accepting a worse deal for you for the reward of immediate payment (which then exacerbates the issues by giving you more work for the future and then pushing you further into the hole). Sadly, getting out of this situation can be very difficult.

Sparkle Kreations writes:

In my earlier business years, I found myself in a deep hole; I struggled financially day to day, I had over 80 clients on my list, and I was overwhelmed by the amount of work to be done. There were solutions, all very challenging decisions laid out before me. One path was the one most recommended, was that I go out and get a full-time job as I slowly refunded everyone on my list (a viable decision, advised to me by furry and non-furry alike) while I continue living and paying my living expenses. Another path was that I completely close off all large commissions, only taking on a few quick/small commissions to keep a bit of income flow, closely budgeting every dollar that I spend as I worked on my queue and knocked out my commissions until they were all complete. So I chose a hard path to regain my business name; I started by being completely honest with all of my customers and offering refunds if they chose. I then worked 6-7 days a week/8-10 hours a day, for about 5 to 6 years. I watched my budget closely, avoided going to conventions so I could instead refund customers. I now run a successful business that is financially stable, with a comfortably-sized queue, where myself and my assistant comfortably work a 5 day/35 hour work-week.

Finally, keep in mind that what really matters is not the $$$$ on the cheque but actually how it distills into $/hour. An artist is limited by the hours they are able to put into the work and a sexy $$$$ fursuit deposit might not actually gain you more in the end than several smaller $$$ projects with quicker overall turn-around times. Track your time and choose the most profitable options to promote and pursue.

(For much more on the physical realities of running a business, read my previous blog article “What I’ve Learned From The Past Decade Working as a Professional Fursuit Artist”)

#5. Can I communicate effectively with others?

Good communications are key with all client-artist interactions.

Can you stay calm, be professional, and set expectations? Poor communication (on either artist or client end) can easily snowball into angry clients and artists, stress and anxiety, emotional withdrawal from your work, misunderstandings, and even artist bewares.

There are several important aspects to communicating effectively:

Can you stay calm and professional even when the client is combative?

At some point, you will have a difficult client. When this happens, you need to stay professional and work through the issues with them. If you cannot agree then you might need to part ways. You must do so with the grace and assurance that you did everything possible to fix the situation. If you think “Taken out of context, will this screenshot look bad?” And the answer is “yes,” then you need to step back, collect yourself, and rewrite your reply.

Can you set expectations?

As the artist, you can choose your commission methods, but you need to be VERY CLEAR to the client what those methods are, what your expectations are (for them and for you), and how the commission process will proceed. Before you take any clients, figure out what you what you want out of the commission process. Do you want to take on clients for money? For the satisfaction of a job well done? For the social challenge of managing an artist-client relationship? Or the artistic drive of working to a specific goal and schedule? Aka WHY do you want to take commissions??

If you have not developed your own drive and are not familiar with your own commission process then you are not ready to move a client through that process

Are you ready to directly and clearly (and repeatedly if needed) communicate your policies to a client through the design, payment, construction, delivery, potential changes or repairs of the commission?

If you need payment by X date or they’ll be dropped from the queue, you need to inform them of this. If they have an issue with the work you did (and you need them to ship the item back asap so you can fix it before their warranty runs out), you need to inform them of this urgency and what failing to act by the deadline will result in.

Don’t leave it up to the client to know your policies. Your policies/procedures should be on your website Terms Of Service (TOS) that you had the client read and agree to, but a little refresher (plus a reasonable and clear deadline, if applicable) allows everyone to move on informed and aware of the consequences.

Do you have a method to communicate with your clients and be available for them to discuss issues with you?

I’m not saying be available 24-7 (an important self-care aspect is having certain hours of the day and/or the week to yourself without any work concerns) but if the client has an issue, how will they communicate that with you so that you can respond in an effective and timely manner? Do you prefer Telegram? Email? Twitter? Decide how you want to conduct business matters and let clients know where/when to contact you.

Do you have a method to update your clients and ask their opinions?

Depending on how you like to work, you do not need to ask a client’s opinion on every aspect of the build. However, showing your work and giving updates on the progress will make the client feel happy and secure in their commission choice.

One easy method for updating that I like is to keep a Trello board of projects where the client can always see the current progress of their commission. Telegram is a popular group chat client. It’s nice for sending pics/videos to clients and the ever classic email is perfect for initial quotes and longer back and forth discussions.

Can you always be honest with your clients?

It’s hard to run an entire business by yourself and you might promise too much or underestimate how long something will take or you life circumstances change and you now have less time to work. When these things happen, you need to be honest and transparent to your client. Explain the issues you are having (in simple, appropriate terms), apologize, and try to work with the client on a solution.

If you are going through some things that might affect work or deadlines, let them know. Keep in mind though, this doesn’t mean you have to share ALL of your struggles if what you are going through will not affect them. Just share what you feel they need or deserve to know.

#6. Do I have other artistic or personal goals right now?

Are commissions even right for you?

If you have other things that are important in your life right now, it’s perfectly acceptable to focus your time on them instead of commissions.

Depending on your stage of life, you might still be in school. Or have a family. You might have another job or a hobby you enjoy. You also might just have other artistic goals that existing commissions do not fit into right now. People love your canines but you want to try cats instead. Or cosplay.

Or you don’t know what you want to do yet but agreeing to a many-month long contract is not that.

The desire for quality fursuit work from reputable artists is high;

if you are active in your community, your peers might try to convince you into taking their project.

It’s great that they love your work! But if the project is not in the direction you wish to go, does not offer enough money in compensation for sacrificing something else you want to do instead, or you do not feel like you can dedicate the time needed, it’s okay (and probably necessary!) to say no!

The ultimate goal in taking client commissions is to have them bring you MORE satisfaction and fulfillment than they take away; Be that in monetary, social or artistic terms.

Figure out your personal drive in being a fursuit artist. Create and run a thoughtful, intentional, and passionate business; whether you decide to take on 30 clients, 1 client, or zero clients.

Above all, have fun with it! Bring those characters to life without losing your own.

#Tips #Health&Wellness

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kalosophia · 3 years

Photo

The Alphaeus — Chapter 3

SOC. Thank you, I will. For it appears to me and to anyone who knows you but a little, that you have in your life acquired some ample wealth, at least sufficient to satisfy your desire for it. Is this a fair statement, Alphaeus?

ALP. It is as fair as it is true.

SOC. And would you say that this attainment of sufficient wealth has resulted in your condition of being happy?

ALP. I would say this, as it is also as fair as it is true.

SOC. But do you think that if you were to increase this wealth that your happiness would increase likewise?

ALP. I have already stated that I have sufficient, and that I have satisfied my desire for wealth, and that I am happy with what I have acquired; so that I do not desire more, and care not whether it may add any small increment to my happiness – for I am content, Socrates.

SOC. It maybe that you are, Alphaeus, and in that case I commend you; but consider this.

ALP. What is it that you bid me to consider now?

SOC. To what degree your happiness is dependent upon the preservation and maintenance of your wealth.

ALP. That is an unworthy consideration, Socrates; and you would be wise, Telamon, to dismiss it along with me. For I am happy, both in myself and with what I have acquired, and this no sane person can deny.

SOC. Strenuously asserted, my friend; but if I frame the consideration within a question, perhaps it will appear more palatable. Do you consider that your happiness, in this respect, is dependent upon the preservation and maintenance of your wealth?

ALP. Your question is no more palatable than it was in its previous disguise.

SOC. But it is a maskless question, and only requires some appropriate reply.

ALP. Then I reply that my happiness will be but little or not at all affected by some limited lessening of my wealth.

SOC. And if the lessening of your wealth is considerable, and very much so, would this have any effect at all upon whether you are happy or otherwise?

ALP. As this will never happen I can make no intelligent reply. For what is not possible is hardly worth contemplating.

SOC. Yet even with the great, this type of occurrence has proved possible, so imagine, if you can, this very considerable reduction of your wealth, and what effect upon your happiness may be produced.

ALP. You are impertinent, Socrates, and dominated by envy, thinking only the poor, such as yourself, can be happy; though this happiness is without choice or effort, and is clung on to like a crack in a cliff-face.

SOC. Is the mere thought of such a reduction in your means sufficient to produce some effect?

ALP. It is not the thought that is affecting me, it is you, and your dog-like gnawing at old bones.

SOC. Forgive me, Alphaeus, for the hungry love to gnaw. But, if you will, let us leave behind the subject of wealth, and consider some other of those few desires of man, and which you say that you have satisfied. What then of your health, and your happiness regarding its condition? In a similar manner, would you say that a considerable reduction in your good health would have any effect upon your happiness? Or do you say that this also is not possible, and, therefore, not worthy of consideration?

ALP. With the wealth that I possess, I shall be able to mitigate any bad effects of ill-health, in as much as it is possible; and the rest I shall bear as contingencies of life. Hence my happiness will be but little disturbed, save as it is for any man facing his expiry from this life.

SOC. But what, then, do you say now to this? How would the happiness of any man be affected if he is reduced to poverty, his health has failed, his power has no influence, his family disowns him for failing in his duties, and his good reputation has been turned upside down, and he is known only as poor, sick, powerless and alone? Do you still say that you would be happy, when all these desires, having been fulfilled, are then become unsatisfied and raw?

ALP. Fie on you, Socrates! What man could remain happy if all these things were removed, or whose desires were never satisfied in the first place?

SOC. What man, indeed, Alphaeus? But I have spoken of extremes, and it may be that the middle ground is safest. Suppose we find the man that has sufficient wealth for his needs, together with sufficient good-health, and power, and good family, and a good reputation though it be not broad or well known; is this the man, then, who is truly happy? And though he should lead a quiet life, and disturb none, and be a friend to many, will he thus be truly happy? Or will his happiness also be at risk, from the decrease or increase in his satisfaction of those universal desires you have nominated?

ALP. This man would be happy in his own manner, and to the degree that his desires have been fulfilled; and this is the same as I said at the first, before you began your minute dissection.

SOC. But were he to verge to one extreme or the other, would his happiness be altered accordingly?

ALP. That it may be, for these desires unsatisfied lead to unhappiness, and satisfied to the desired degree will produce happiness.

SOC. Then do you now say, that the desire to satisfy these desires to a desired degree is the pathway that leads to true happiness?

ALP. I do.

SOC. But what, if each of these desires is unfulfilled, is it then possible for a man to be happy?

ALP. This would truly be a sad man, Socrates, who cannot satisfy his desires at all; and in him that natural desire to be happy would be all but impotent.

SOC. That may well be, Alphaeus, but at this point we cannot be certain.

ALP. But we can, Socrates, we can! For where will you find the man who does not desire wealth, and power, and health and family and reputation? Can we find him anywhere, or is it only you?

SOC. As I am still unsure of what true happiness consists, and how it may be attained, whether I have these desires or not, or to what degree they are useful or otherwise to this attainment is but of little value. Yet come, Alphaeus, and see if we can summarize what you say and teach. Is it that the desires of men are few in number, and are capable of being satiated and satisfied for so long as they are being fulfilled; and that the more they are fulfilled the happier that man will be, and that the less these same desires are fulfilled the happiness will be proportionately less? Is this what you propose to us all?

ALP. It is.

SOC. And that true happiness is only true for so long and in so much as these desires are fulfilled and satiated?

ALP. Again, I do say so.

SOC. But is not something that is true always true? Or will it only be true sometimes and for some periods?

ALP. You tell me, sagacious Socrates.

SOC. I will, as it appears to me, and that if something is sometimes true it is also sometimes not true; but if something is simply true it will always be that which it is.

ALP. And so what now? Where is this leading?

SOC. It is leading to the distinction between apparent and true happiness; and that the former appears and does not appear, but the latter simply is what it is. And further, that it is the path to the former which you sell and teach, but not the path to the latter.

ALP. It is ever your way to bring those down who possess more of anything than you, I well know this; and I not only teach the way to happiness, but also how it may be attained, maintained and retained, and it is true and happiness and true happiness – nothing more or less, and that is an end to it!

SOC. It is well, Alphaeus, that you are sure of what you do. But, if you would indulge me, please answer me one or two more questions.

ALP. I will do so if the time allows. What say you, Telamon? Shall we stay a while longer?

TEL. I do not know quite what to say at this moment, for this conversation is now resounding in my mind. But yes, Alphaeus, it would be good to stay for a little more time.

ALP. Then we will, Telamon, for your sake if not for mine. What is it then, Socrates, that you now wish to ask?

SOC. Only this, in the first place; would you say that there is a limit to what any man may desire?

ALP. Yes, there is; and it is the limit that a man imposes according to his ambition.

SOC. But that in itself, the desire will not naturally limit itself, but will desire to add to or supplant that which it has already successfully obtained?

ALP. That is probably so, Socrates,

SOC. And is it probable that the more a desire desires, and the more it obtains what it desires, that it will thus become stronger and more powerful?

ALP. That, too, is probable.

SOC. What then, is it that the more powerful and stronger the desire becomes, the more difficult will it be for anyone to impose a limit upon it?

ALP. That is so.

SOC. And do you teach each of your followers what is the appropriate limit for their desires?

ALP. I do not, for that would be presumptuous and meddling.

SOC. Then do they set their own boundaries according to their ambitions, and in so far as their desires are still capable of being limited?

ALP. They do.

SOC. But you do not teach how desires may be limited, whether gentle, or vehement, or greatly powerful?

ALP. I do not, and I know not of anyone who does.

SOC. That may well be so, Alphaeus; but you are in danger of releasing a certain Ate’s dragon for yourself, for your followers and for us all.

ALP. I know exactly what I am doing, Socrates, and you would do well to remember that in the coming weeks. But what is this creature of which you now speak, and have brought in from some obscure place?

SOC. It is a tale from an island very much west of here, and one that I heard early in my youth; but to tell it may take more time than you will allow.

TEL. Time is not yet pressing, Socrates, so please relate this tale if it has any bearing on this invigorating discussion.

SOC. And you, Alphaeus, is this your wish also?

ALP. If Telamon wishes to hear this story, I will wait patiently along with him.

(to be continued)

— Guy

#Release Thyself #The Alphaeus #Ancient Greece #Philosophy #Telamon #Alphaeus #Guy #Happiness #Human #Socrates

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pixs-pinings · 4 years

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Aster the Chaotic 1

So. wrote a fic about the fankid. Their name is Aster and as you can see by the title their personality is going to be a treat.

Pix should've known Aster was going to be like this.

Even without the influence of Fiora and, admittedly, herself, Aster was naturally very, very curious. Aster asked questions, Aster tried to climb on top of the fridge to see what was put on top of it, Aster felt things in their hands and learned only to be more investigative as they found out about various parts of the world and how social interactions worked...

When Aster had managed to climb on top of the fridge and had to be floated down by Melia's ether, Pix should've known that wouldn't be the end of it.

But she didn't.

The pink-haired high entia was the only one in the house, and so she was the one currently dealing with the many, many scrapes and bruises Aster somehow obtained today. When questioned as to what happened, Aster sported a toothy grin and yipped, "secret!"

Pix was unsure on whether to tell Aster not to get themselves hurt for a prank or to respect their privacy and leave the issue alone. Either way, Pix was letting a water ether construct rub over Aster's scrapes. It brushed them away and left only the grass stains and cuts on their clothes behind. Aster sat mostly still, only fidgeting a little with their hands in their lap as Pix dealt with the damage done by... whatever Aster was doing.

Pix's own curiosity won out. She drew her water ether construct away from the last (visible) bruise, fading away as Pix looked into the blue eyes of her child.

"Aster," Pix sighed, "were you doing a prank?"

Aster's eyes widened slightly, and their smile grew before they managed to go back to just regular grinning. "I said a secret, mom! Mum told me that was real important!"

Of course Fiora said that. Fiora loved to tease at times, and Pix knew the signs. The fact that Aster brought it up was a tell...

Pix had a very bad idea.

"Aster," She leaned back in her chair, "Part of keeping a secret is to minimize— keep down what you tell others. What you did there, with telling me what Mum said..." She flapped a hand in the air. "It confirmed that you're pulling a prank."

Aster frowned. "It did?"

Pix was at least a little thankful Aster learned how to take responsibility for things they did from Melia. They were showing that, so it wasn't like Pix was being irresponsible with teaching them this.

Pix nodded, both to herself and to Aster. "You see...."

Pix... was at least partially responsible for the teenager Aster became.

---

Aster was still small enough to ride on Fiora's shoulders, though they had outgrown being able to be lifted by her wives. Aster held their arms on Fiora's head, flapping them like wings and claiming that Fiora was definitely a High Entia, yep, just look at these totally real wings!

Aster's giggles betrayed the fact that they were playing up an act. Fiora and her wives taught them how to be at least a little dramatic, at least.

Aster glanced up, and the flapping stopped. "Oh! Mum! That's uncle Dunban!" Their hands lifted from Fiora's head, and from the shuffling she heard, Aster was bringing something out of their pocket. Fiora would've looked up to see, except that head was currently being used as part of balancing the child, so she didn't.

"You want to talk to him?" Fiora asked, smiling. "I've never caught him by surprise, but it's still nice to try."

Aster nodded— Fiora felt the nod through the legs on her shoulders. Fiora approached her brother, who was talking to the local weaponsmith about something...

"Uncle Dundun!" Aster shouted, suddenly, and Fiora froze as something flew towards Dunban's face.

For Dunban's part, he spun around and caught it in his good hand. He turned the caught item towards him, then paused as he registered what he was holding.

It was his watch that he had lost last week, unable to find it even though the whole family was looking. The engravings on the sides, the formerly shining silver metal turned dull with age... it was his, even if it was also covered in dirt right now.

"Wh— Where did you find this?"

"Well..." Aster trailed off. "... it was buried near the beach!"

Dunban's eyes narrowed. Fiora narrowed them as well, even if Aster couldn't see her face as well.

"The beach?"

Aster shrugged. "I found it there."

"I... well, thank you." Dunban nodded, an easy smile coming to him. "It's good to return something lost to the original owner. I'm going to clean this up when I get home." With that, Dunban turned back to the weaponsmith, continuing conversation.

Aster was basically vibrating on Fiora's shoulders as she walked away from her brother and continued through the market. Once Fiora was a few paces away, Aster cheered, "I surprised him, Mum! I did it!"

"You did! Good job!" Fiora smiled. "The surprise is always the best part of teasing others, that split second of shock..."

Aster leaned on Fiora's head, and the full homs leaned her head a bit to accommodate. The child laughed, this time one of nervousness. "I wanted to make him dig for it, but Mom made me think twice."

Fiora paused.

The watch was covered in dirt, not sand...

"You wanted to make him dig?" Fiora questioned. "With one right arm? How were you going to do that?"

"That's what Mom said!"

Fiora felt like she was mostly to blame for this.

---

Melia sat down in her office, breathing a sigh of relief. The measures she had suggested months ago were finally being put into practice, and the reestablishment of spread out towns would help with the overpopulation in the current unnumbered Colony.

Training was going well, her people were doing fine...

There was a knock on the door, and Melia looked up. The knock was from lower down on the door, so it was...

"Aster, you can come in." She called. After a moment's pause, Aster opened up the door, blinked at the lack of stacks of paper on Melia's desk, then continued to one of the free chairs. They looked a little nervous.

"Aster?"

"Mother," Aster asked, hands clasped together and pressed on their lap, "Mom said I need to ask you if I wanted to learn to use ether. Please?"

Melia smiled, turning to her desk to grab a few piece of papers from a drawer. "Well, of course you can! We'll have to test you for how much ether you can use right now..."

Melia quickly remembered that this was the child that somehow made a pitfall right outside of their house, and Melia stopped. She turned back to Aster, taking on her responsible mom voice. "Aster. What're you going to use ether for?"

Aster sighed. "... I don't like lying to you guys." Aster pressed their hands a bit tighter into their lap. "I wanted to use it to make a friend fly, and then maybe try some mini fireworks, or obstacle courses..."

Melia took this in with a stare. After Aster trailed off, Melia put a hand to her chin. "Make a friend fly, you said?"

"I don't like seeing them sad!" Aster threw their hands out, palms spread wide. "And Ivonna, she has big head wings, but she said she can't because they're unbalanced, but she's always wanted to fly..." Aster pressed their hands into their lap again. "I wanted to do something to help."

"That's admirable." Melia smiled, and Aster's nervousness seemed to fade away, replaced with their own smile. "Helping out a friend any way you can... I find that to be a great strength."

Aster was about to speak again, but Melia held up a hand, face sliding back to neutral. "However," Melia added, "I know you, Aster, and I know you could cause damage with an unanticipated ether blast if you tried to use it too early."

Aster sighed, but they were still smiling. Melia felt a bit of stress leave her shoulders. That was good.

"Did you tell Mom about this?" Melia questioned next, and Aster's face went through a complicated series of emotions.

"...Only the pranking part." Aster admitted, a little sheepish. "I thought she'd teach me a little for that..."

Melia was very, very glad that Aster had at least learned to seek out the appropriate way of learning things first. She did not want her child to blow themselves up with a failed fire ether summon.

Melia hoped it wasn't presumptuous to say she was the one who taught them.

#melfiopix #my writing #self ship #Aster the Chaotic #behold. a tag #self ship fankid #self ship writing #i dunno tags!

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ohdaim · 4 years

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conflagrate wip

“Did you knot the end?”

You grumbled and checked the length of the thread, finding the end of it in a terrible wad. “Yes.”

Ignis sat on the other side of the table, crossing his arms unhelpfully. “Knot it again.”

“I’ve sewn before. I’ve got it.” His shirt was resting between you on the table. You slid one of your arms into a sleeve to straighten the fabric from the inside. “Trust me.”

“It isn’t the same as your things. That’s--”

“Your uniform, I know.” You pouted at how annoying he was being. He’d never asked you to mend anything for him before, so you’d been flattered. You were beginning to regret saying yes. “I’ll sew a hideous button onto this thing if you keep it up.”

“Defacing government issued attire.” He tutted at you with a shake of his head. “I thought you were sheltered before we met, but tonight’s choices paint you in a far different light.”

You huffed but couldn’t come up with a response. Things had gone so well while you’d been out, but the majority of your focus had gone toward Ignis. His long state of quiet, how close he was when you fought—Prompto hadn’t been wrong in pointing out that Ignis tended to stick by you—and his sudden snap out of it into playful behavior at your expense.

“Talcott mentioned you gave him some of your beer the other night,” Ignis continued when you were quiet for too long. “I’m not genuinely concerned, but he is still rather young.”

Stitching the gap in his sleeve closed, you let out a soft laugh. “He’s smart. He got us here fine.”

“Clever or not, he needs appropriate guidance.”

You understood what Ignis meant, but you hadn’t agreed to that. You’d watch Talcott’s back like you would anyone else’s. He was free to make his own choices.

“He thought we were romantic, you and I.” You tensed after saying it. Your fingers came to a stop, the needle pinched tightly between your thumb and forefinger.

Ignis didn’t make you sit in that discomfort for long. “An easy assumption to make, given how much time we spend together.” His arms loosened, and you felt his knee brush yours under the table as he shifted in his seat. “I’m more surprised he would understand the nuances of romance.”

Sending a look over your shoulder toward the closed bedroom door, you asked, “Is that why you brought him on, as a buffer between us?”

You didn’t know where you were finding the nerve to voice this. Maybe you wanted to pick a fight because you were tired. Maybe you wanted to hurt more because missing Gladio and being confused over Ignis wasn’t enough. The timing had been too perfect. Talcott had joined your party after you’d come onto Ignis. It wasn’t the first time you’d considered it.

Ignis didn’t bite, instead getting up to stretch his arms back. You watched him roll his shoulders, startled when he seemed to look down right at you.

“Do you ever wonder if we’re predisposed to living multiple lives?”

Oh, a complete change in subject. Okay… fair.

You gave the sewing more of your attention, falling into a rhythm. “Feeling philosophical all of a sudden?”

“Humor me.”

“Well… what do you mean?” You glanced up to see him reaching into a cabinet for a large bowl. “I don’t know if you’re talking about reincarnation or overlapping lives in one lifetime or…” Or something completely different.

“For instance, we’re living our lives here and now. Darkness and hardship surround us and drive us forward.” He put the bowl on the counter and began to gather ingredients from different parts of the kitchen. “We rely on each other and arrange our priorities in ways we hadn’t imagined before.”

“Before the darkness.”

“Precisely. I directed all of my concern and love toward very few things prior to this. Things that are now unreachable.” He assembled the ingredients, cracking an egg into the bowl along with a splash of sugar. You were curious but didn’t ask what he was making, giving more thought to what he was saying. “Back then, you had your own life. You existed, but not in the realm of my limited world view. Never would I have guessed you’d become paramount.”

You pulled the thread taut, reaching the end of the rip. “Wouldn’t you say your view is more limited now?”

Like you hoped, he laughed. It was quiet, breathy, and music to your ears. “You’ve changed. I can’t imagine you calling me ‘sir’ the way you had when we first met.”

Grinning to yourself, you finished tying off the thread and cut it. Holding up the shirt in the light, you pulled the sleeve right-side-in to admire your work. Not perfect, but Ignis wasn’t going to see it either way.

“I think I get it. About the multiple lives thing, I mean. But aren’t they just phases?” You followed along with a finger where the cut was now sewn together, hardly noticeable. “When you’re a kid, you want to be a chocobo, but when you grow up, you realize that’s not possible, so your new dream is to raise them instead.” Folding the shirt, you put it on the table and faced him. “The world changes, people change, and strangers become special.”

“Hm.” He stirred the contents of the bowl and slowly nodded. “Aspiring toward the impossible does seem a juvenile effort.”

Curiosity getting to you, you stood up and leaned over the bowl to look inside. A murky brown mess stared back. You changed your mind and sat back down, content to wait for the end result.

“Sure,” you said, unsure of where he was trying to go with any of this. You weren’t prone to this kind of discussion. You didn’t ever ponder the meaning of life. Life didn’t have a meaning. “But that doesn’t mean it’s a waste of time. You learn from it. That-- That’s the point.”

Ignis grew quiet, pouring the contents of the bowl into a pot. Once the burner was on, he turned toward you, keeping one hand on the spoon he used to stir. His other hand was on his hip, which you knew meant this conversation wasn’t over.

“What if…” He pursed his lips, then began again. “Say there’s a concoction, or the possibility of one that could turn you into a chocobo, but the instructions to obtain it are unclear? Would that extension of your previous life be a waste if you’re unable to piece together the clues?”

You sat back against the wall and poured your gaze over him. He’d changed into a t-shirt after his shower, and his hair was all over the place. He was wearing gloves, but his feet were bare on the linoleum. You liked Ignis, but these were sounding more and more like the ramblings of a very tired man.

“I don’t know.” You rested an elbow on the table, your chin in your hand. “That depends on the person. How much they really want to achieve the impossible.”

The bedroom door slid open, and Prompto stepped into the small space, an unknowing disruption. He looked at Ignis and slid a hand under his shirt to scratch his stomach. “What are you making?”

“Pudding. It’ll be ready by morning.”

Prompto smiled sleepily. “Nice.”

He shuffled into the bathroom and shut the door. You pretended you couldn’t hear him going, closing your eyes to instead focus on the ambient heavy metal music and the slow boil of the pudding.

“Is there a point to all of this, Ignis?”

He stirred the pot, remaining quiet until Prompto meandered back into the bedroom, sliding the door closed.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t know if I can bear an alternative to the impossible.”

You opened your eyes, following his movements as he turned off the burner and poured the pudding into another, larger bowl. When it was covered and put in the fridge, he unceremoniously placed everything in the sink without washing any of it. It was unlike him, but you were relieved to see it.

So normal after that very strange string of consciousness.

“That’s why I’m here,” you found yourself saying. Reaching across the short distance between you, you took hold of his hand and squeezed. You didn’t know what the hell you were saying; you were just as tired. “I’ll help you achieve the impossible. I promise.”

His fingers curled over yours, the corners of his mouth raising slightly in the barest of smiles. “Don’t lie.”

You squeezed his hand harder. “How dare you. I’m being sincere.”

Pulling his hand out of your grip, he chuckled.

That was the end of it, his amusement dampening the heart it had taken for you to be supportive after all the nonsense he’d spouted. He retook his seat and skimmed his hand over the tabletop for your recorder. Plugging in your earbuds—he knew you hated hearing your own voice more often than not—he put one in his ear before saying, “You’re right. Talcott was initially a buffer.” He put the second one in and rested his elbows on the table, slotting his fingers together to rest his head against them.

You ran your hands down your face and let out a heavy sigh. After all that, he was shutting you out. That was fine. He wasn’t making any sense anyway.

#ignis/reader #ignis scientia #ffxv fanfiction #self insert #daim writes #this was so fun to write even though it's literally just one long conversation #idk how this is going to be received #still a draft but i'm proud of it #big part of me worries it's too boring #she and ignis keep dancing around each other #and it's becoming PAINFUL #don't mind me i have nowhere else to share my writing haha

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vfdbaudelairefile13 · 4 years

Text

Chapter Fifty-Six:

The One Where Klaus Performs a Cranioectomy

Violet hesitantly walked into the Library of Records glancing around at the wreckage that Esme Squalor had created. Her heart sank in her chest as she glanced over at the emergency exit door that she had tried to escape out of only to find herself in the arms of Count Olaf. She shuddered remembering how trapped she felt in the man’s arms.

“Ed? Is that really you!?” a friendly voice called out. Violet stiffened when she realized that a man was walking towards her hurriedly. She glanced back at her father who was slightly behind her. He was smiling towards the man and only shifted his gaze to Violet when he realized that she was looking at him. He gave his daughter a small smile and a quick nod to the head. The man walked over one of the fallen filing cabinets and smiled at Violet. “There you are, Ed! You’re so grown up!” the man said as he rushed to Violet and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Violet stiffened more at the feel of the embrace. The last time anyone had grabbed her in this particular room had been Olaf so she was feeling a bit uneasy as this stranger grabbed hold of her and held her. But unlike Olaf, the man’s embrace was warm and it made Violet feel safe. Like her father’s embrace had made her feel. Slowly, she eased into the hug and eventually even hugged the man back although she tried to turn towards her father to give him a look of confusion. “Ed...oh how I’ve missed you,”

Violet slowly released her grip from the man. “I’m sorry, but you must have me mistaken for...someone...else?” she said as she took a good look at the man before her. It was odd, he seemed familiar and recognizable but Violet could have sworn she had never met this man in her entire life. She had seen his face in pictures, though. Although, that wasn’t what had Violet confused as to why he was so familiar. When he glanced up at his face, she could see a weird mix of partial Sunny and partial Klaus. The man had the same eye and nose shape as her baby sister while the color of his hair, the way he wore his hair, and the glasses on his face had her thinking of Klaus.

The man smiled. “Oh no, you’re Ed.”

“Ed?” Violet repeated, confused as she glanced back at Lemony, who had the biggest smile on his face as he wiped a few happy tears from his eyes. “My name’s Violet,”

The man smiled again, he gave Violet a gentle pat on the back. “Well, L here tells me you’re an inventor,”

Violet smiled and nodded her head. Her father never wasted an opportunity to brag about her mechanical skills to anyone. They could be his closest friend or a complete stranger and Lemony Snicket would be yabbering on and on about his daughter’s inventive skills. “I am…” she said slowly.

“Well ‘Ed’ is short for Thomas Alva Edison...one of the greatest inventors...like you.” the man said smiling.

Violet nodded. “I’m sorry, you and I have never met...my name is…”

“Violet Malina Snicket,” the man replied, still smiling.

“How do you…”

“Well I chose your middle name,” the man explained. “And you and I have met before...you just wouldn’t remember it seeing as you were so little.”

“Wait…”

“I’m Bertrand Baudelaire,” Bertrand Baudelaire stated.

“But...but...you’re dead…” Violet whimpered. “So...if I’m seeing you...I...I have to be…”

“Sweetheart, we’ve discussed this.” Lemony said from behind her. “You’re not dead...we are. Your subconscious is trying to help you cope with what’s happening on the outside world.”

“What is happening in the…”

“Nothing we need to worry about,” Bertrand explained. “You’ll be safe soon,”

“But how do you…” Violet asked, confused. “How am I…”

Bertrand and Lemony looked at one another and smiled. Bertrand pulled Violet into a tight embrace when he had seen that she was crying. “Shhhh,” he said holding his eldest daughter close. “No need for tears. Everything is going to get better eventually,”

“No, it won’t,” Violet replied. “Olaf won’t stop until…”

“I knew the only downside of Lemony raising you would be you inheriting his pessimistic views on life,” a female voice said. Violet stiffened once more as she heard the click and clank of the woman’s heels. Even if these heels were normal and produced a different sound than Esme’s stiletto knife heels, Violet couldn’t help but cringe each time she heard the sound of the woman approaching. The woman carefully walked around a few of the fallen cabinets, glancing from left to right studying the damage that Esme had created. Violet tried her best to get a glimpse of the woman’s face but she was unable to. “You know...all of this for some drugs…” the woman muttered pointing to the damage. Violet cocked her head confused as the woman tried to step over one of the cabinets as Bertrand had a few minutes prior. Something in Violet made her retreat behind Bertrand as Lemony quickly walked up towards the woman and helped her step over the cabinet. Violet didn’t know why but the voice seemed vaguely familiar. A familiarity that Violet was unsure of until she got a glimpse of the woman.

The woman looked up at her with tears in her eyes. “My...my Violet Malina,” the woman said before rushing towards Violet and hugging her. The woman hugged Violet tighter than Lemony or Bertrand had which surprised Violet she didn’t believe that was possible. Violet recognized the woman’s face from every time she glanced either at her locket or in the mirror. The woman’s face was a near carbon copy of Violet’s own face except for the eyes and when she glanced towards the woman’s eyes she could instantly see that her brother possessed her eyes. The woman cried as she held onto Violet. “My baby girl…I’m so sorry,” she cried as her grip on Violet strengthened. Violet felt as though she couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t find it a problem because she was one hundred percent convinced that she was dead.

“Bea…” Violet began but stopped. It didn’t feel right to call this woman by her first name when there was a more appropriate name for Violet to call her. It was a title that Beatrice first obtained when Violet was born and Violet didn’t see an issue with her using it even if this was a dream and she had never met this woman before. “Mom?”

Beatrice released some of her grip from Violet to look at her daughter. Beatrice was rendered speechless but slowly nodded her head as she wiped her eyes once more. “Yeah...I’m...I’m your mother,” she said as she put her hand on one of Violet’s bruised cheeks.

Violet tried to keep a smile on her face as she wrapped her arms around Beatrice tightly and began to sob into the woman’s shoulder. Beatrice ran her fingers through Violet’s tangled hair, doing her best to gently untangle it in the process. “Shhh,” Beatrice cooed. “Mother’s here now,”

“You...I...I…” Violet cried.

“Violet...I’m so proud of you,” Beatrice cried, she glanced up at Bertrand when he cleared his throat. “Sorry,” she called out to Bertrand as she looked back down at Violet. “ We are so proud of you, sweetheart.”

“Proud of me?” Violet repeated. “For what?”

“For what?” Bertrand repeated incredulously. “For protecting your siblings, of course.” Bertrand stepped closer to Beatrice and Violet, pulling them into a huge embrace. He then glanced over at Lemony, gesturing for the awkward bibliophile to join the embrace. Violet felt a sense of belonging and safety as she felt the strong embrace of all three of her parents. But even though she felt safe in their arms, she began to cry, all of her emotions hitting her at once.

She glanced up at them, looking more so towards Bertrand and Beatrice as she slowly shook her head. “But...I haven’t...Sunny was still…Olaf kidnapped her... and...and Klaus is…he’s severely...traumatized...and...” she cried through her tears.

“None of that is your fault, Ed,” Bertrand explained.

Beatrice gently broke the embrace and knelt down in front of Violet. She placed her hand once more on Violet’s bruised cheek. “Vi...sweetie...your father is right,” Beatrice said. “ None of that is your fault. You selflessly took them under your wing the moment you realized who they were.”

“Well...I had to…” Violet explained, shrugging her shoulders. “Snickets take care of their own...and they’re my siblings,”

Her three parents smiled. “You selflessly took them in,” Lemony said.

“You sacrificed yourself for their safety,” Bertrand added.

“And...when you had the chance to escape...you got recaptured because you thought your brother was in danger,” Beatrice added smiling. “ That shows how big your heart is, Violet. It shows how much you love your younger siblings and how much you truly belong with them,”

Violet shook her head when Beatrice mentioned her belonging with her siblings. “I don’t belong with them…” she admitted meekly. “They…”

“Now, Violet, why wouldn’t you belong with your siblings?” Bertrand asked.

“You’re just as much of a Baudelaire as they are,” Beatrice explained. “You are my first born. You are my eldest, not Klaus. Klaus is our middle child, Violet.”

Violet nodded her head but continued to cry. “But...there’s...there’s this...invisible wall…”

Beatrice shook her head as she wiped Violet’s tears away. “There is no wall. There is no barrier. Klaus and Sunny are your siblings. If…if life hadn’t turned out the way it had...all three of you would’ve been Snickets and Baudelaires.”

“But...Olaf and Esme…and Mr. Poe…” Violet cried out.

Lemony gave a low growl as Bertrand’s facial expression turned sour. “Mr. Poe is...an incompetent buffoon,” Beatrice explained.

“But he’s in charge of Klaus and Sunny’s affairs…”

“He was the lesser evil of our two options,” Bertrand explained.

“Who was the second option?” Violet asked curiously.

Beatrice gestured to the destroyed library. “The bitch who did all this,” Beatrice explained. Violet gasped.

“And speaking of her,” Bertrand began as he, too, knelt down to Violet’s level. “Her and Olaf don’t understand how the basics of family work. You are our daughter as much as Sunny is,”

Violet nodded her head as she glanced up towards her father. “Are you sure this is a dream?” she asked in a low voice as he nodded his head. “Cause if it isn’t...and...I’m...down for the count...I wouldn’t mind staying here with you.” she admitted.

Beatrice and Bertrand frowned as Lemony sighed. “Sweetie, this is a dream and...eventually you’ll wake up and have to deal with whatever is happening in the outside world.”

Violet nodded as she looked back towards Beatrice and Bertrand. “You are everything I hoped you’d grow up to be,” Beatrice told Violet.

“L didn’t do a bad job at all,” Bertrand agreed.

Lemony groaned. “I wish you’d stop calling me ‘L’,”

“Well, I know how much you hate your name,” Bertrand explained with a smirk.

“I hate ‘L’ more than I hate my name,” Lemony informed. “And you know this,”

Beatrice rolled her eyes at the two men as they bickered but she focused her attention solely on her daughter. “I wish I could’ve seen you grow up…” Beatrice cried, her eyes filling with tears once more. “God, you would’ve made us so proud every day.”

Bertrand nodded as Violet jolted violently. “What’s happening?” she asked worriedly.

“You might be waking up,” Lemony explained.

“But...I don’t wanna leave you guys just yet,” Violet pleaded.

Beatrice sighed. “We would love to stay with you, too. But you’re needed, Violet. The three of you need each other to survive Olaf,”

“But…”

Bertrand hugged Violet once more quickly. “Can you do us a favor sweetie, can you tell Klaus and Sunny that we love and miss them,” he said. “Can you also tell your brother that we don’t blame him for anything bad that has happened to Sunny. We should have never asked him to make that promise,”

“If everything went the way you had planned...I would’ve been asked to keep that promise...right?” Violet asked.

Bertrand sighed and nodded slowly. “You don’t have to keep that promise either, Ed. It’s a truly unfair and impossible promise.”

“I wouldn’t call it impossible,” Violet said, shrugging her shoulders.

Bertrand released Violet from the embrace but gently put his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t want you thinking you have to take on that promise for your brother. We should have never made him promise that. I would prefer that the three of you promise to take care of one another...as a team.” he explained sternly but kindly.

Violet nodded slowly, her eyes filling to the brim with tears. Bertrand released Violet’s shoulders as Lemony hugged her. “You are stronger than he is, Violet. You’re fighting isn’t for nothing,” he explained. “He may have tiny victories...but you will prevail overall.”

“But...if…” Violet cried.

Lemony released Violet from the embrace and Beatrice grabbed onto Violet and hugged her tightly. “The three of you will take care of each other. I know it. I have no doubt about it. You have grown into an amazing young woman. You couldn’t make me prouder even if you tried.” Beatrice explained. Violet jolted once more in her mother’s arms.

Violet nodded. “Please don’t leave me,” she cried. “I can’t do this alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Beatrice explained, her voice shifting slightly. “You have your siblings.”

“But they left…” Violet cried. “Olaf said…”

“Olaf is a lying piece of shit,” Bertrand explained, although his voice shifted like Beatrice’s. It was as if Bertrand sounded younger...prepubescent, even.

She moved her head slightly to look towards Bertrand, who was becoming blurry. “ No!” Violet cried as she reached out for Bertrand as she continued to hug Beatrice. “ Dad...don’t go!” she called out. Her heart fluttered in confusion as Bertrand slowly shrunk down a bit, his face shifted a bit, becoming rounder. Violet had to blink a couple of times as she watched Bertrand slowly form into her brother. “ Klaus…?” she cried out, wrapping her arms around her mother tighter than before. “ No...no...you can’t be here. You can’t be dead, too.”

But the Klaus in front of her didn’t say anything as if he couldn’t see who was holding her in a tight embrace. Lemony sighed. “Sweetie, we’ve been through this…” he began. Violet turned towards him and watched as he was becoming more and more blurry. “...you’re...not dead…”

Violet reached out for Lemony, but Lemony didn’t reach out for her. “ Mr. Lemons! Please don’t go!”

Violet’s eyes filled with tears as her father was going in and out of blurriness. As if he was only half disappearing. Was she waking up? What was happening? All of Violet’s questions were hushed when she felt the woman holding her in the embrace begin to laugh. It was an unsettling laugh. “ Now...I wouldn’t say that…” her mother said, although at this point, the voice that came out of her mother’s mouth was not how she imaged her mother’s voice just moments ago. It was a snarling voice, a recognizable voice. “ It’s time to lose our first patient,” the feminine voice snarled before laughing again.

Violet released her grip from around her mother and watched in horror as her mother’s hair bleached down to blonde before her eyes. Her mother’s shoes turned into stiletto knives and her mother’s face turned from the one that smiled back at her every time she glanced down at her locket to the face of a woman who will probably haunt plenty of violet’s nightmares.

“ Mom! No...please come back!” she shrieked as she pushed herself away from the vision of Esme Squalor that was once her mother. “ No...no...no…” she panicked. She looked back at where her brother stood. He seemed angry, but he was silent. “ Klaus! What are you doing, get out of here, run!” she turned back towards where she had last scene her father. “Mr. Lemons...thank God you’re still here…” she started to say as Lemony once again began to slowly disappear and reappear but always staying blurry. “ No…no...you...not you, too!” she pleaded as her father merely cocked his head to the side and began to bellow out a cruel laugh. A laugh that Violet and her siblings knew all too well. It was a wheezy laugh. She fell to her knees crying. “ No...no...no…” From where she sat, she watched in absolute horror as her father’s pant leg shrank, becoming unable to hide his tattooed ankle. She glanced up towards his face. “ Mr. lemons come back!” she pleaded, reaching a hand out for her father as he closed his eyes and jolted back a bit. When he opened his eyes though, they were no longer dull and blue. They were green and shiny. The same degree of shiny that had been plaguing Violet’s life since the tragic death of her father and the same shiny eyes that had been plaguing her siblings’ lives since even before then. She watched in horror as her father’s silhouette turned into the silhouette of the man who would surely haunt her every nightmare. “ No!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “ No...no...no…” she glared towards Olaf. “ Bring him back!” she turned towards Esme who was still cackling. “ Bring her back! Bring them all back!”

“ Do it!” Esme screeched towards Klaus, who stood there confused.. “ Do it!”

Violet looked confused towards Klaus. “Do what?” she pondered.

“The best thing...for you to do...for our patient,” Olaf began as he, too, turned towards Klaus.

“Patient?” Violet asked worriedly. She looked from the two villains to her brother. “Where’s Sunny? Klaus...what’s happening?” she asked, her heart pounding. She glanced around and only now began to notice that the Library of Records looked vastly different. It was far too bright, every way she looked she couldn’t see anything but a very bright light. She watched as Esme took a step closer towards Klaus, she could hear the vicious sound of Esme’s knife heel stabbing the floor. Violet quickly stood. “ No! Stay away from him!” she pleaded.

“Is to remove her head altogether,” Olaf hissed.

Violet looked towards him with utter confusion. “Remove whose head?” she asked incredulously.

She looked towards Klaus, who looked up at Olaf and Esme, he seemed to be nodding. “ Klaus…” she called out, but he didn’t say anything. She glanced down at his hands and noticed that her brother was holding a long, rusty knife.

“There’s a chance…” Klaus began. Although Violet was confused. The voice that was coming out of Klaus’ mouth didn’t entirely sound like his. But his lips were moving perfectly to dictate what was being said. “...that the patient could die. ”

Olaf nodded his head. “Sometimes we make sacrifices for the sake of…protection...”

Violet shook her head slowly, none of this felt right. She was crying hard and trying her best to walk away from the scene that was unfolding before her. But it was like she was restrained. She might have been standing, but every time she moved her hands or legs, no movement followed. “ No...no…they said I wasn’t dead.”

Olaf turned towards Klaus. “Isn’t that so?”

“What do we do?” Klaus asked, his voice sounding more like himself. Violet’s head was spinning. Was she still dreaming? Was she finally dead? If that was the case why did her parents disappear?

“Before I make the first incision…” Klaus began. “This is a knife,”

“Well, let’s see you use it!” Esme screeched, although her voice was rough and wheezy like Olaf. “ do it! Do it!”

“ Do it!” Olaf barked. Klaus looked down towards the knife in his hand and then he looked at Violet for the first time since he had appeared in place of his father. He stood there, unmoving, just continuing to stare towards Violet. Olaf and Esme seemed to become impatient because they rushed over towards Klaus and began whispering to him. To violet’s horror and confusion, Klaus whispered back to them but as Violet watched on it didn’t seem as though Klaus was arguing with the two villains, but it seemed like he was agreeing with them.

“If...it means...leaving... Violet,” Klaus explained as Violet’s eyes widened.

“ No...no...no...no...you can’t leave me… ” Violet pleaded as the blinding light was beginning to consume the room around her. “ You son of a...you can’t leave me! Mom! Dad! Mr. Lemons! Come back! I can’t…” she whimpered as she felt herself slowly opening her eyes, feeling as if she had been consumed by the bright light that had once surrounded her in her dreams.

________________________________________________________________

Esme smirked as she held Klaus back every time that he tried to move closer to his older sister. Both Klaus and Esme watch as Olaf looked directly at Esme slowly nodding his head. Klaus looked from Olaf to Esme angrily as Esme smirked once more as she released her grip on Klaus’ shoulder with a slight push to get him to walk closer to his unconscious sister who lay on the gurney. He shuddered and felt his blood run cold as he glanced around slowly at the surprisingly packed operating theater. Klaus Baudelaire was well aware that operating theaters are not nearly as popular as dramatic theaters, musical theaters, and movie theaters, and it is easy to know why. A dramatic theater is a large, dark room in which actors perform a play, and if you are in the audience, you can enjoy yourself by listening to the dialog and looking at the costumes. A musical theater is a large, dark room in which musicians perform a symphony, and if you are in the audience, you can enjoy yourself by listening to the melodies and watching the conductor wave his little stick around. And a movie theater is a large, dark room in which a projectionist shows a film, and if you are in the audience, you can enjoy yourself by eating popcorn and gossiping about movie stars. But an operating theater is a large, oddly lit room in which doctors perform medical procedures, and if you are in the audience, the best thing to do is to leave at once because there is never anything on display in an operating theater but pain, suffering and discomfort, and it was for this reason that Klaus was surprised to see how many people filled the theater. There were rows of doctors in white coats who were clearly eager to see a new operation being performed. There were clusters of nurses sitting together and whispering with excitement about the world’s first cranioectomy. There was a large group of the Volunteers Fighting Disease who seemed ready to burst into song if needed. And there were a great many people who looked like they had simply walked over to the operating theater to see what was playing. He also noticed in the front row was the rest of Olaf’s vicious troupe. All of them glaring and smirking at him.

As he stepped closer and closer to his sister, he kept his glare on Count Olaf. Klaus gasped at how dreadful his older sister looked. When Olaf had mentioned ‘Sleeping Beauty’, he was referring to a fairy tale that you have probably heard one thousand times. But when Klaus finally got a good look at Violet, it looked nothing like a fairy tale. He shuddered when he saw his elder sister laying on the gurney, he noticed that this particular gurney was as rusty as the knife that Esme held, and its sheets were ripped and soiled. The middle orphan felt his blood slowly begin to boil when he noticed that she was no longer wearing her overalls but had on just a hospital gown, a hospital gown that was as filthy as the sheets. He looked from her, his full face of guilt and remorse.

Why didn’t he protect her? He knew the kind of danger she was in. Olaf had made his intentions with Violet very clear. He thought. He slowly walked over closer to Violet’s numb body noticing Violet’s two bruised cheeks even under all of her hair that had been messily thrown over her eyes so that no one would recognize her face from The Daily Punctilio. Except for her cheeks, Klaus noticed that the rest of Violet’s face was pale, as pale and empty as the surface of the moon, and her mouth was open slightly in a vacant frown underneath the anesthesia mask. He shook his head, holding back tears as he noticed that his sister’s wrists and ankles were tied to the corners of the gurney. Her fingers hung loosely over the edge of the gurney, her fingertips all pointing down towards the floor. Even her bare feet slumped over the edge of gurney, completely limp and lifeless. She was entirely helpless. He had never seen anyone so helpless before. He glanced up at the man who stood before him, who wore the biggest chilling grin. Sunny could feel Klaus’ chest rise and fall as he took a deep angry breath, but still somehow casually walked up to the man. Klaus looked from the sinister man to his older sister, who looked as though she had been dropped onto the gurney from a great height. Honestly, if it weren’t for the slow and steady rise of her chest as she breathed, it would have looked like she had not survived the fall. Klaus looked at her in horrified silence, Sunny pushing Klaus’ medical coat apart just slightly between two buttons so she, too, can get a peak at her sister and when she had, she gasped loudly, moving her fingers so that the jacket would obstruct her view from her sister once more. Klaus could feel Sunny shudder in response to the horrifying view. Klaus put a hand over where Sunny was, in an effort to comfort her.

Klaus glared towards Olaf and slowly turned to the audience. “Excuse me, ladies and gentleman.” he called out to the audience. “I must have a quick word with Dr. Medical-School, here,” Klaus hissed in his disguised deep British accent. Olaf looked at him confused and even Sunny gave a look of confusion from under Klaus’ medical coat. Klaus grabbed Olaf’s arm, pulling him close to the young boy’s face. “ Listen to me very carefully,” Klaus hissed in a tone that sent chills down his younger sister’s back even causing her to shudder. “ If you touched Violet in any way…” Klaus stopped speaking when Olaf merely smirked at the boy, Klaus watched the sinister bastard shrug his shoulders as if he had no idea as to what Klaus was indicating.

He pulled Olaf close to him once more, harsher this time, causing Olaf to bump into Sunny directly, forgetting for a brief moment that his sister resided in the front of his disguise. To focused on protecting his older sister at the moment. “ If you touched Violet...I promise you, you will have Hell to pay!” He hissed. “ No one touches my sisters.”

Olaf smirked at the boy, a sinister smirk, laced with cruelty. Klaus didn’t know what the smirk meant. Olaf gripped his arm and leaned in real close to whisper a cruel response to the thirteen year old boy. “ Maybe I did...and maybe I didn’t. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Esme’s face lit up with an idea as she quickly walked towards Klaus roughly handing him the sharp, rusty knife. “Don’t forget this,” she hissed, smiling towards the crowd. She glanced back towards Klaus. “ You’ll need it.” As she began to remove herself from center stage, she glanced at a confused Olaf whose face was a mix of pure confusion and utter annoyance. He looked from the knife, that was now being held by Klaus. Then at Esme, who merely shrugged her shoulders at him. Olaf gave a low growl as he glanced around at the crowd trying to rewire his plan seeing that Esme had handed Klaus a weapon. A devious smirk was planted on his face.

He gestured towards Violet. “Well, hurry along, Doctor Faustus. The anesthesia won’t last forever.”

Klaus looked from the rusty knife in his hands towards his older sister and then to Olaf, who merely turned his attention to the crowd.

“I do hope she doesn’t wake up in the middle of the operation,” Esme called out to Klaus, as she grinned happily at the prospect of what she had just said happening. Klaus turned to her in utter disbelief as she glared at him. He looked down nervously at his unconscious sister completely unsure of what to do.

“Doctors, nurses, Volunteers Fighting Disease, gore fans, regular people, welcome to the operating theater of Heimlich Hospital! I am Dr. Mattathias Medical School and these are my associates,” he said gesturing towards an angry and confused Klaus and a bloodthirsty Esme.

“And I am Nurse Cassandra Ursula Terrific Elliandra…” Esme said loudly.

“And of course, the man who will be performing the operation,” Olaf interrupted rolling his eyes at Esme. “the marvelous Doctor Faustus.” He gestured towards Klaus. Klaus responded by giving Olaf a pleading look. His way of begging Olaf to stop this insane plot. He knew it was effortless but he couldn’t help himself. Klaus looked around the operating theater as it erupted in applause. He gulped and glanced down at the sharp knife that was in his hands. He couldn’t control himself but he began to shake.

“As I’m sure you’ve heard, a cranioectomy is a procedure in which the patient’s head is removed.” Olaf explained as Esme pushed to center stage a large mobile diagram. She waved to the audience as she pulled down one of the few slides and showed a detailed diagram of a human head. “Scientists have discovered that many health problems are rooted in the brainial area.” Olaf continued to explain. “So the best thing to do for the patient is to remove the head altogether.”

Klaus looked horrified towards Olaf as he spoke. He simply shook his head in terror as he glanced back down at Violet. Esme took the time to pull the diagram’s draw-string releasing it. The slides of the diagram rolled back to its initial state quickly causing Klaus to jump at the sudden noise.

“Now, a cranioectomy is as dangerous as it is necessary. There is a chance that the patient,” he began as he turned menacingly towards Klaus. “May tragically die during the operation. Leaving their enormous fortune up for grabs. But sometimes we make sacrifices in the name of advancement.” As he said this, he stepped closer towards Violet and stroked her cheek and even ran a couple of fingers across her neck causing Klaus’ anger to boil once more. “Isn’t that so, Dr. Faustus?” he asked in a braggy tone as he turned towards Klaus.

Klaus began to breathe heavily as he looked from Olaf who was standing next to his sister’s gurney and Esme who was blocking the nearest exit. He glanced around the operating theater looking at all of the people who were eagerly awaiting him to cut off his sister’s head. He felt his legs becoming jello as he held the rusty knife limply in one hand. He walked a few steps away from Violet’s gurney, away from Olaf, and he put his free hand over his mouth to hide the fact that he was talking and at the same time to echo his words in hopes of Sunny being able to hear him.

“Sunny...what do we do?” he cried helplessly. “I’m surrounded by people who expect me to saw Violet’s head off.”

Sunny looked up at Klaus, cringed when she remembered how Violet looked on the gurney, and then she took a deep breath as she tried to think of something...anything that they could do. “Stall?” she suggested.

The word ‘stall’ has two meaning, but as with most words with two meanings, you can figure out which meaning is being used by looking at the situation. The word ‘stall’ , for example could refer to a place where horses are kept, but Klaus knew at once that Sunny meant something more along the lines of, “We’ll try to postpone the operation as long as we can,” and he nodded silently in agreement. The middle orphan took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to think of something that could help him postpone the cranioectomy, and all at once he thought of something he had read.

When you read as many books as Klaus Baudeliare, you are going to learn a great deal of information that might not be useful for a long time. But then suddenly like a strike of lightning, or a grand piano falling out of a window, the opportunity arises to use the infromation gleaned from even the most unlikely piece of reading. “Before I make the first incision,” Klaus called out to the audience nervously. “I...I...I think...I think I should talk a little bit about the equipment I’m using.”

Olaf looked at Klaus unamused as he folded his arms across his chest. Klaus walked around Violet’s gurney towards the anesthetic machine making sure not to look at it and making sure to not make it obvious what he was planning to do.

In the case of Klaus Baudelaire, it was an obscure book from the Baudelaire library, The Complete and Total History of Knives. Klaus raised the rusty, sharp knife higher showing it off to the crowd. Knowing fully that his hands were shaking the entire time. “Th-this is a knife.” he explained.

Olaf rolled his eyes tiresomely. “We know it’s a knife,” he explained coldly to Klaus. “ Now let’s see you use it,” he hissed as he glared at the young boy.

Klaus glared back at the man nervously. “Any real doctor would never perform a procedure without explaining everything first. And we are both real doctors, aren’t we?” He looked pointedly at Olaf as he asked the question. Olaf opened his mouth to say something but instead gave Klaus a low inhumane growl. He frowned towards the young boy but took a deep breath smiling towards the crowd. He looked back at Klaus, who smirked back at him. Olaf took another deep breath and gave Klaus a toothy grin. “Keep it short, Doctor.” he ordered as he allowed Klaus to continue on.

Klaus took a deep breath before addressing the crowd once more. “The knife is the oldest surgical tool in the world. Early knives have been found in Egyptian tombs and Mayan temples,” he explained as he noticed that Esme was playing with her fingernails and already yawning and Olaf had turned his back to the boy to mouth something to his henchpeople. Klaus took this time to slowly back up towards the anesthesia machine. He reached it with no problem, glanced back at both villains, who were still distracted, and flipped the switch from ON to OFF. “Where they were used for ceremonial purposes, and mostly fashioned out of stone. Gradually bronze and iron became the essential materials in knives, ,although some cultures fashioned them out of the incisors of slain animals.” Klaus was surprised that even when fighting back a panic attack for the most part he was still able to infodump about the random things he had read in books so many years ago.

Fearing that it wouldn’t be enough to help his sister gain consciousness quick enough, Klaus leaned back as far as he can, still glancing between the two villains and unhooked the tube that connected from the machine to Violet’s mask. Violet shifted only slightly and only barely. It was so bare that Klaus hadn’t even noticed it. “There are many different types of knives,” Klaus said as he leaned back against Violet’s gurney as if he was trying to relax. Olaf turned towards the boy and looked at him confused. “Which I’m going to list for you now…”

Olaf growled again as he dropped his head in disappointment. “ Do you ever shut up?!” he hissed for only Klaus and Sunny to hear. Klaus smirked as he continued to slowly walk around the front of Violet’s gurney, holding the knife in his shaky hands.

“There’s the pen knife, the pocket knife, the drawing knife, the...the...the butter knife,” Klaus listed as he felt Olaf’s grip on his shoulder.

“What a lengthy explanation, ladies and gentleman!” Olaf yelled in annoyance as Klaus’ eyes widened again. Klaus shook his head slowly, looking towards Olaf trying one last time to plead with his eyes. “But it’s time for the main event!”

Klaus’ pleading eyes vanished into a glare as the crowd around him began to applaud. He looked around the room wishing that the audience could see through Olaf’s ridiculous games.

“Yes!” Esme shouted, obviously losing her patience with Klaus’ stalling. “I think all these lovely people will understand the process better once,” she turned toward Klaus, a face full of no emotion at all. It was a chilling face. It made Klaus’ skin crawl. “The head has been removed.”

Klaus looked to Esme with frightened eyes as he looked from her to his older sister. Violet moved on her gurney, ever so slightly. Her mouth opened a little wider under the mask, and one of her limp fingers stirred briefly. The motions were so small that Klaus noticed them. He gave a small smile. Could he keep stalling until the anesthesia completely wore off?

“ Do it!” Esme demanded.

“Yeah! Cut off her head!” someone in the crowd shouted. Klaus could hear a few more people in the crowd agree.

Olaf gestured towards Violet’s gurney. “ Do it!” he hissed. Klaus walked over towards Violet’s gurney.

His sister looked so helpless. He wanted nothing more for her to wake up and help him out of this mess. But as he stared at her, she only moved her hand again, just barely.

“Be-before I...before I can…” Klaus stuttered. “I...I…”

The crowd around him murmured in agreement as Olaf and Esme continued to chant ‘Do it’ as if that alone would make Klaus cut off his sister’s head. He looked back down at Violet with pleading eyes. “Vi...please wake up,” he whispered worriedly. He cautiously poked at his sister’s arm hoping that the slight touch would be enough to annoy her awake.

Klaus listened in horror as Olaf’s troupe followed along with Esme and Olaf’s chanting and soon the entirety of the Operating Theater was chanting alongside the villains. Klaus slowly turned in a complete circle, looking around at the audience and the two villains who were on stage alongside him. He was pleading with everyone in the crowd silently, even trying to plead with Esme and Olaf. Even Sunny, who the whole time had been doing her best to keep her anxious brother calm, was starting to shake and tremble at the overstimulation that was happening in the theater. The poorly lit room was becoming darker and darker as Klaus turned in complete circles as the noise around him got louder and louder. Olaf glared at him as he hissed for Klaus to saw off his sister’s head and Esme clapped and chanted as loud as she could. She seemed more eager for this to happen than Olaf was. Olaf seemed to have been going with the flow since it seemed as though Esme had changed up his plans a bit.

Klaus nodded slowly towards Olaf as he stepped close to Violet. He clasped the knife in both hands as he began to hold it up over his helpless sister. He could feel tears starting to stream slowly down his face as he studied her gurney and tried to think of any escape routes. The only one he could clearly see was the one Esme was still blocking. He looked down at Violet’s sleeping figure and wondered if he could make a very small cut on Violet’s neck, one that could merely wake her up but wouldn’t injure her in the slightest. He looked at the rusty blade, which was shaking up and down as his hands and body began to tremble from his fear and anxiety. He didn’t like being so close to Olaf at all, let alone with sharp tools anywhere near. He hated not being able to control the situation, he had tried to stall but Olaf and Esme had ruined any and all attempts at that. He hated the fact that the operating theater had become too loud and too over stimulating. So he couldn’t help but start to slightly fall apart. There was no way in Hell that he was going to actually saw off Violet’s head. Surely, Olaf and Esme knew this. Neither of them could truly believe that he would.

Was this Olaf’s plan? To make him surrender? To expose Klaus and Sunny to the crowd? Or was his plan to actually have Klaus murder his big sister? Klaus was so confused and that might be the thing that was upsetting him the most. He didn’t like not understanding something. Sure, Olaf’s plan rarely ever made sense but this one took the cake. What was killing Violet going to help Olaf gain? He has to want me to give in. It’s just sick mind games with him. He wants to know that he’s won.

Sunny took this time to take another sneak peek from inside her brother’s medical coat. It’s like the youngest orphan hadn’t learned her lesson from the last time she took a sneak peek because as she slowly pulled the fabric of the medical coat apart, she took her own look at a sleeping Violet and then gasped when she realized that her brother was now holding the knife over Violet. Sunny looked up at Klaus with wide, wide eyes. Thankfully, for the middle orphan he was unable to see the face Sunny was giving him.

The crowd around the two Baudelaires began to get louder and louder. Olaf even stepping closer and closer to Klaus demanding for him to cut off his sister’s head. Klaus was crying trying to get everyone around him to stop chanting. He turned towards Violet once more and noticed how her face flinched slightly. He could have swarn he heard a soft but desperate ‘no’ come from her mouth under the mask but he had no way of knowing for sure.

Klaus looked towards Olaf with a look of utter defeat and fear. Klaus bowed his head down as Olaf began to smirk. “I...I can’t do it,” he whispered, looking up at the ceiling. High above them was a swuare intercom speaker that he had not noticed before and teh sight of the speaker made him think of something. “ I can’t do it,” he announced depressingly towards the crowd.

“ Why not?” Olaf asked in a vicious but taunting manner.

Klaus swallowed, hoping he still sounded confident and not like a scared child. “I...I cannot perform this operation, there’s one thing thtat has to be done, the most important thing we do here at Heimlich Hospital.”

“And what might that be?” Olaf hissed annoyed.

“P-p-paperwork,” Klaus replied nervously.

Olaf looked towards the teen boy irritated and tired as the entire crowd around them gasped and agreed with Klaus. Klaus smiled and addressed the crowd. “We haven’t done the paperwork!”

“Paperwork! Yes, of course!” a nurse shouted happily.

“Somebody call Hal!” suggested a doctor. “He’s in charge of the Library of Records, so he can solve this paperwork problem.”

“I will! I’ll go get him right now!” One of the Volunteers Fighting Disease called out as she stood up from her seat. Klaus was unhappy to learn she was the one who had early been so eager to see him cut his sister’s head off.

“Just a brief pause, ladies and gentleman,” Olaf called out to the audience as they began to murmur amongst themselves. He angrily turned to Klaus, “ a minor interruption!” he hissed frustratedly. Olaf glared towards the disguised orphans and angrily sighed.

Klaus took this time to grab Olaf’s arm. “Let my sister go,” he hissed.

Olaf gave a low chuckle, Klaus gripped his arm tighter. “You only need one of us,” Klaus said as he looked down at where Sunny was and then once again at Violet. He took a deep breath. He looked from Olaf and then towards Esme, who seemed to be quietly debating what her next move will be. He closed his eyes, trying to blink his tears away. “...take me,” he whispered. “Just...leave my sisters alone.” The second the sentence left his mouth, Sunny punched him as hard as she could from underneath the medical coat which caused Klaus to grunt and heave over a bit.

Olaf smirked towards Klaus. “Why would I trade the... prettiest orphan for you?” he asked. “I mean...torturing you is... fun. But she’s…”

Klaus’ eyes went red with anger. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he interrupted.

Esme’s eyes glowed with another idea. She smiled towards the crowd, waving and smiling to them as she walked towards Klaus. Once she reached him, she grabbed his shoulders, purposely digging her nails as much as she could pulling him slightly towards her.

“Ow!” he whispered angrily, glaring at the sinister woman, who looked back at him with crazy eyes.

“ Clever boy, you may have found a way to stall but sooner or later the show will go on and there will be blood! ” the vile woman hissed into Klaus’ ear. Klaus could feel Sunny slightly tremble at Esme’s words.

Be Violet. Do the scary thing first and get scared later. He told himself as he took a deep breath, trying his absolute best not to react to Esme’s threat. He slightly turned towards her. She gave him a smile laced with cruelty and bad intentions. Klaus’ breathing was becoming uneven as Esme continued to stare at him with her crazy eyes.

“... unless… ” she said smiling.

“Unless?” Both Klaus and Olaf repeated simultaneously. Klaus repeated it with a strange mix of worry and relief in his voice. He didn’t know what Esme wanted but as he glanced once more at his sleeping sister, he knew that whatever it was he would have to give it to her. While Olaf’s voice was a mix of confusion with a hint of anger.

“You give me what I want,” she explained, still holding a firm grip on the young boy. Klaus looked at her with confusion in his eyes. She sighed angrily. “I will stop this whole operation, right now, if you give me the item that you three thieves stole from the Library of Records.” she explained.

“Why would we stop anything...the whole point of this is to…” Olaf hissed under his breath, through gritted teeth as he glared at his girlfriend.

“ It’s mine!” Esme hissed, interrupting Olaf and leaning closer to Klaus’ ear. “ Mine...mine...mine...mine.”

“You stupid bitch what the fuck do you think you are doing?” Olaf hissed under his breath.

Klaus turned from the two villains, who were on either side of him and towards the gurney looking at his bound and unconscious sister once more. He weighed his options. He wanted desperately to know what else was on that film and he had no intentions of ever letting Olaf or Esme find out what Jacques Snicket had said about a survivor of a fire. But if Esme was willing to trade Violet’s life for a measly film then he knew what he had to do. “...if...if it’ll save Violet...then…” he could feel Sunny nodding as if she was telling him he was doing the right thing as he reached into his pocket and took out the Snicket file. He slowly reached his hand into his pocket, Esme watched in sweet anticipation as he lifted the object from his pocket and handed it to Esme.

Esme began to squeal happily as Olaf rolled his eyes and threw his head back in annoyance. “Oh, at last!” she gasped as she began to kiss the object in her hand. Klaus watched the villainess with a look of pure confusion as she continued to cheer about possessing the Snicket file.

Esme’s cheering was cut short when her eyes widened with both anger and confusion when she realized that the object she was holding was not what she wanted at all. She held the film in her palm as she released her fingers from gripping the film. She stared angrily at the film. “This...this...this...this isn’t the sugar bowl…” she said in a monotone voice. She looked up at Klaus about ready to rip the knife from his hands and run him and Sunny through.

“S-s-sugar bowl?” Klaus repeated confused. “That’s...that’s the Snicket file,”

Olaf’s face lit up as he cocked his head. Before Esme or Klaus could react, he reached out and grabbed hold of the file. “The Snicket file? What’s this?” he asked as he turned it every which way in his hands examining it.

Klaus looked ready to cry. If he had known that Esme didn’t want the film and wanted a sugar bowl he would have given her anything else but as he watched Olaf’s frown turn into a grin, he felt sick to his stomach. Olaf didn’t even know about the Snicket file and now he has it. What have I done? He asked.

“ You…” Esme hissed as her crazy eyes formed a glare Klaus’ way. Klaus looked from the murderous woman to Olaf.

“Now let Violet go!” He hissed.

Olaf smirked towards Esme as he turned to face the crowd. “Ladies and Gentleman!” he yelled. “It has come to my attention that this man is an impostor.”

Klaus’ eyes widened when he realized just what Olaf was doing. The crowd gasped. Klaus looked towards Olaf with pleading eyes, shaking his head rapidly. Esme turned on yet another one of the bright lights, this one pointing towards Klaus instead of Violet, whose eyes were slowly starting to open. She was mouthing something but no one on stage was paying attention to the bound girl on the gurney.

“He is not a doctor at all!” Olaf explained, smiling wickedly towards Klaus.

“Y-yes I am,” Klaus cried. “You said so yourself,”

“He’s two children, neither of which have graduated from medical school!” Olaf said reaching out towards Klaus trying to rip his medical coat open. Klaus quickly turned away from Olaf, now facing Esme.

“I-I-in my m-medical opinion,” Klaus said nervously as he watched Esme lean down and grab one of her stiletto heels. She smiled wickedly at Klaus. “I believe these two have lost their minds.”

“Oh, we haven’t lost our minds,” Esme called out with a snarl, “But you’re about to lose your heads, Baudelaires!” she hissed as she swung her heel at Klaus’ medical coat, cutting it apart with ease. The harness that held Sunny was cut, too and Sunny fell to the ground with a thud!

“Sunny!” Klaus cried as Sunny rolled on her back examining herself. Esme’s shoe may have been sharp and long enough to cut through both Klaus’ medical coat and Sunny’s harness but as Sunny examined the front of her outfit, she learned that thankfully she was unscatched by Esme’s shoe. She looked up at her brother and gave him a thumbs up.

Olaf grabbed Klaus’ shoulder and turned him around for the whole crowd to see. “Oh my God!” Olaf cried in an exaggerated tone. “It’s that Baudelaire boy!” he roughly ripped the fake beard from Klaus’ face.

“Baudelaire?” a doctor in the crowd called out. “The same Baudelaire that’s wanted for kidnapping and murder?”

Klaus looked around the crowd and watched as the crowd gasped as they recognized both him and Sunny from The Daily Punctilio. The doctors, nurses, and spectators in the crowd looked at them in horror, only the Volunteers Fighting Disease, who believed that no news was goods news, did not recognize the youngsters.

“That is the Baudelaire boy!” a nurse cried. “I read about them in The Daily Punctilio!”

“He’s a murderer!” Olaf cried as Klaus glared at him. “He helped kill Count Olaf!”

“Who?” Brandon asked.

Olaf rolled his eyes. “He...He’s a very handsome actor,”

“I might not be a doctor but I didn’t kill anybody!” Klaus cried to the crowd, who were all glaring at him now.

“Wait! Weren’t there two murderous kidnapping orphans? Not one?” a spectator asked. “Where’s the girl orphan?”

Esme hurriedly stepped in front of the gurney, shielding Violet from view. “She’s...already in jail,”

“ She is not!” Klaus cried as he rushed up towards Violet’s gurney and with his free hand, he brushed her hair out of her eyes so that everyone could see that she was not Kit Litencoves but actually Violet Snicket. “ These terrible people disguised my sister so they could chop off her head!”

“No...no...no…” Violet pleaded, she slowly but frantically was moving her head, she was trying to move her hands but she couldn’t. Klaus looked towards his sister, who was slowly waking up. He couldn’t help but smile even if she seemed to be having her own panic attack.

“Violet!” Klaus cried happily. Sunny looked up at the gurney happily as well.

Olaf and Esme looked at one another and smirked. “Don’t be ridiculous!” Esme called out. “ You’re the one trying to cut her head off. Look, you’re still holding the knife!”

“ No...no...no!” Violet pleaded drowsily. “ Please...I’m…”

“See, the poor girl is freaking out. She thought she could trust you,” Olaf hissed.

“ I wasn’t trying to kill Violet!” Klaus hissed angrily as Violet was trying her best to escape. She moved her head slowly but frantically from side to side, slowly pulling desperately at her restraints.

“If you’re not murderers,” a doctor asked, “then why have you sneaked into the hospital in disguise and why were you hiding your kidnap victim?” she asked as she pointed at Sunny.

“Brother!” Sunny screamed out, pointing at Klaus. She then pointed towards Violet. “Sister!”

But no one listened to the toddler as another person entered the operating theater. “I think I can explain that,” said the person, it was a familiar voice. But Klaus and Sunny weren’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. In one hand, he was clutching the rings of keys that that three siblings had made from paper clips and Violet’s hair ribbon, and with the other hand he was pointing angrily at the children. “I’m glad to see that you are still here, although you all are a bit blurry. I thought for sure you would have snuck away after your prolonged and treacherous vandalism.”

“Vandalism!?” a doctor cried. “That’s terrible!”

“B-but…” Klaus cried out, backing up into Violet’s gurney.

“It was terrible,”

“Hal…” Sunny began but both she and Klaus were speechless. They both knew they had wronged Hal and that he had every right to be mad at them for tricking him, although Esme was the one who had actually destroyed his library, not them.

“Those two murderous kidnappers and their toddler victim,” Hal said, “pretended to be volunteers in order to work in the Library of Records.”

“They did?” Esme cried, feigning a fake gasp. Klaus and Sunny both glared at her. “You mean they’re murderous kidnappers and phony volunteers?”

“No wonder they didn’t know the words to the song!” Brandon cried.

“Taking advantage of my poor eyesight,” Hal continued, pointing at his glasses. “They made these fake keys and switched it with the real one, so they could sneak into my library and destroy any files about their crimes.”

“No...no…” Violet cried out, Klaus and Sunny doubted she was responding to Hal because she seemed to still be drowsy as if she had no idea what was going on still.

“Hal…” Klaus began as he looked back at Sunny and Violet. Sunny only hung her head in shame as Violet continued to drowsily whimper.

“I thought you three were my friends,” Hal cried.

“We didn’t want to destroy the file,” Klaus explained nervously. “We didn’t mean to destroy anything. I-I’m sorry...we...we tricked you. And I am so sorry about your library,” Klaus said in saddened tone. “B-but we’re not the real criminals here... we’re just kids...trying to survive.” He ran his hand through his hair nervously, glancing around the crowd to see if anyone was believing him. Unfortunately for Klaus, just like when Count Olaf had first accused him and Violet of murder, the crowd before him now looked like the crowd that he dealt with then, when he glanced around the crowd he couldn’t see one face that indicated someone was believing them or that they were on the kids’ side. Not even Hal. He took a deep breath. “The real criminals are…” he began as he glanced around the stage to notice that one person had snuck out when Hal had entered. “No...no…he...he was…” Klaus spun around in confusion. His eyes locked on the rest of the troupe and Esme but he couldn’t locate Olaf. “ Where’s Count Olaf?”

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ohyangchon · 4 years

Text

Raffle commission for @anchoram-fr of their OCs.

Congrats on your win!

Hester had been working out in the garden when she heard hooves not quite her own: but she ignored them, figuring it was just another one of those veterans riding up on their horses to speak to the nurses. She bent down, reaching for another weed before plucking them, tossing the stalk aside in a basket and glancing around- only to see a blur of yellow and red pass her by in a gallop, leaving her blinking in confusion.

“The--” she began, tapping one of her hooves on the grass (the speed of that horse’s movements would spook some of the more skittish veterans recovering there, and she didn’t like that) before carefully trailing out, skipping over the low fence to approach at a cautious amble towards the front entrance. Was she needed...? She could yell at them for being an asshole and disturbing the peace here, but she doubted that’ll go well considering her unique status. Instead, she watched with curiosity as the blur stopped: and her eyes widened in shock seeing a second centaur approach and lean down to speak in faltering whispers to the hospital director.

She sighed, folding her arms and giving the younger centaur a once-over. At first glance, he was a little too bright to have come from any of the tribes she would recognise, and not only so, he was dressed in a military uniform. Why would a centaur willingly serve the human military? Maybe he got drafted, the poor thing, Hester thought to herself, already writing a story in her head for this new centaur before putting her pot away, realising that she was still cradling it in her arms. A moment or two passed, and it seemed like he and the hospital director seemed to still be in some sort of stalemate about...something, so Hester wagered she should approach, at least to help translate.

As she clopped forth to stand next to the hospital director, giving her a nod of acknowledgement, she watched the younger centaur across her wheel backwards, startled by her appearance. Hester eyed the letter tightly clutched in the other’s hands and turned to the director, giving a small smile. “I’ll...take over from here?” she suggested, and the director nodded in response before adjusting her wireframe glasses and heading inside, leaving them both alone.

“Could I see the letter?” Hester began, trying to seem polite and figuring speaking their common language might be helpful (even if she...wasn’t even sure if he would understand...) but when he dutifully handed her the letter, she gave a curt nod of thanks and scanned it. Hm...that was a familiar last name it was signed off as: ah! One of the newer officers admitted to the premise. She gave a stiff smile, unsure of how to proceed before offering him the letter back, which he quickly stuffed into his chest pocket.

Hester began to walk, turning to check if the strange new centaur would follow, but he stood waiting, staring at her with a look that had bafflement written all over it. “Oh, sorry, skipped forth a few steps again, didn’t I?” she chirped, before jerking a thumb towards the garden, “It’s easier for us to get into the hospital proper through the garden. Please be careful though, I just planted some new crops in there, and we’re not exactly known for grace.” When he nodded and trotted behind her, Hester softened slightly seeing how obedient he was.

Poor thing must’ve been broken in or something, those humans who fought wars just couldn’t be trusted. Her hand unconsciously brushed against the scars on her left front leg, immediately growing more sympathetic. Maybe they already had something in common...but it was rude to ask on their first meeting, so instead she put on a smile and carefully crossed over the low fence to enter the garden and turning around for the other to approach.

“So...what’s your name?” she asked, the silence already beginning to bother her and looking to break the ice (at least in the mines she had company), “You can just call me Hester. Don’t worry about it, you’re in good hands here: the humans here are significantly better than where you would’ve come from, I’m sure.” He avoided her gaze, carefully crossing the fence before stumbling at his back legs catching it and skittering next to her, sheepishly ruffling his hair with an awkward grin. Hester tilted her head, and his grin dropped, breaking away from her gaze while seeming stiff again.

“My name...is Ikram,” he replied softly, a blush dusting his cheeks at his clumsy showing, “Thank you.” He poised to start following her, before a quiet crunch echoed through the originally comforting silence. Hester stiffened, her concerned stare turning into an annoyed glare as she shooed him- revealing a cracked pot under one of his back hooves. She threw her hands up in resignation (of course he crashed into the ones she’d just repotted), but when she saw the other hold his hands to his chest and seem overly apologetic, she softened and picked up the pieces.

Hester rolled her shoulders, sighing to herself. “You know what, us standing around means you’re just going to accidentally step on things,” she continued, walking him towards the shed and showing him how to avoid the scattered pots and vegetation in the area, “I may as well show you where I usually rest, and you can lay down for a bit while I figure out what your arrangement is. It’s...hm, not every day another centaur rides up here, basically.” She would say that this had never occurred in her months being here, and her hopes of having any members of her tribe had dimmed by this point: they were probably still working at the mines, and she sometimes wondered if she’d been wrong taking up this job and leaving them behind. Maybe someone out there had heard her prayers and sent her a sign that her family was well through this new centaur: or maybe she was just overthinking it.

When Ikram followed, carefully kicking the chunks of ceramics away and trotting quietly behind her, she shook those thoughts out of her mind and led him towards the house next to the garden, opening the double doors to lead him in. It was really just a refurnished barn, which she’d transformed into a shed in the meantime and added her own personal effects- woefully little, just a coat or two and a horseshoe shed from her mother, and she led Ikram to where she’d usually lay down, a small mound of old pillows and hay that she’d haphazardly thrown together as a resting spot.

She leant down to toss some of the pillows aside, before gesturing towards it to him. “Just rest first,” she suggested, and watched him dutifully lay amongst the pillows with an awkward air, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be right back.” As he sighed into one of the pillows, Hester took off towards the main building, looking for some answers in the meantime and hopefully puzzle out where Ikram was supposed to stay: it just didn’t seem appropriate for them to share a space, but at the very least the barn was big enough for them both.

-----

As she left, Ikram finally allowed himself to sag and recollect his thoughts. He’d been trekking for weeks at that point, with only a few pockets of time for rest in between, and it was difficult communicating with the hospital director who didn’t speak much Turkish. If that other centaur hadn’t appeared, he would’ve likely turned back and left: but she’d helped him and clarified so much that it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

He carefully shed the haversack he’d been carrying, rolling his shoulders to get the tension out and taking a stock check of his remaining rations before finally allowing himself to take a look around. The barn was surprisingly homely, and he smiled seeing the gardening supplies neatly stacked in a corner. Putting it away, he thought back to everything that’d led up to this point and sighed into the pillows again, gathering them into his arms before flopping into them.

It didn't take too long for him to feel the urge to get up again- to start marching- to do something. Staying put suddenly felt strange, and he needed to move...but his body refused to move, far too exhausted from the day’s events. He was safe here, he repeated the mantra in his head as he laid his head once more onto the pillows.

-----

Hester soon returned, carrying a jug of milk and some butter biscuits helpfully obtained from the hospital staff. She’d heard from the others that he’d trekked a significant distance, and figured he must also be starving: hence the food. Watching the other quietly resting, though, she sighed and placed them on the makeshift table she’d stacked from crates before stealing one from the plate, munching along while she worked (he wouldn’t miss it anyway!)

Seeing Ikram curled amongst her pillows, she rolled her eyes and chuckled, before her smile dropped noticing the open haversack next to him and gently closing it as she passed him. “Good luck, soldier,” she commented idly, striding over to pick up some mulch to stack on her back, “I think you probably deserve it after that trek of yours, eh?”

#my work #enjoy!#didn't really end up using your prompt but I think this is a suitably fluffy start if any

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angstmongertina · 5 years

Text

Words of Wisdom (minor Ethan Ramsey/MC)

Purposely posting for Father's Day because it seems very appropriate considering how much of a father figure Naveen is to Ethan, and a grandmentor to MC. In other words, I absolutely adore Naveen to bits, and I think he and MC are long overdue for a conversation.

I didn't think I'd have increased inspiration now that the entire book has ended and we have to wait who knows how long until book 2 comes out but hey, in the meantime, I guess I'll keep writing. So enjoy me continuing the spam the fandom? :P

AO3 Link

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She was not entirely surprised to be called into the soon-to-be Chief Banerji’s office after completing her rounds. After all, between his promotion and her return, there was plenty she suspected he had questions about, and the only true surprise was that he had recovered enough to maintain the stamina for such an extended visit to Edenbrook.

In retrospect, it should have been equally expected that Dr. Banerji would not be alone.

At his cheerful invitation, she entered, only to find him sitting at his desk, with an extremely familiar figure standing at his side. Ethan—Dr. Ramsey—froze as she paused in the doorway, his face appearing about as startled and awkward as she felt.

Dr. Banerji seemed entirely oblivious to the sudden tension, or at least would have been if not for the sly grin playing in the corners of his mouth. “Ah, Isabelle. Thank you for coming.”

Carefully avoiding the gaze of her now direct supervisor, she smiled, taking the chair he waved her towards. “Of course…” She hesitated. “Dr. Banerji? Chief Banerji?”

His answering smile was gentle. “I think you, if anyone, has earned the right to call me Naveen, my dear. I have been your patient after all.” She must have made a face; he laughed, warm and strong despite his lingering frailty and tinged with what was almost fatherly affection. “At least consider it outside of official settings?”

Before she could decide on a reply, he pushed himself to his feet and… Dr. Ramsey made a noise of protest, which he shrugged off as easily as he did the restraining hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine, Ethan. Now go on. You’ve been reinstated as well so I’m sure you have more important things to do than to hover over me like a worried hen. After all, thanks to you and Isabelle, I’m no longer on the verge of keeling over.”

His expression as stern as ever, Dr. Ramsey crossed his arms over his chest. “I believe I’ll be the judge of that. But very well.”

She stole a glimpse at him as he made his way around the desk and towards the door, his face oddly relieved, though it smoothed into his usual impassive expression when their eyes met, and she quickly looked away.

“Dr. Wang.”

She nodded, focusing her gaze just to the right of his face. “Dr. Ramsey.”

When the door closed behind him, she turned back to Naveen, who grinned at her, amusement and mischief dancing in his eyes, as he ambled his way to a coffee machine in the corner of the room. “Something to drink?”

She leapt to her feet, following him with outstretched hands. “Here, allow me, Dr—” He raised an eyebrow and she cleared her throat. “Um, Naveen?”

Dark brown eyes twinkled at her, both approving and gently admonishing. “I am well enough to get my own tea. And yours too, if you wish it.”

Somehow, it didn’t surprise her when he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and it wasn’t until she had been settled with her own fragrant cup that he relaxed back into his seat. “Now, where were we?”

“You asked to see me?” The question of whether he’d asked her to stop by knowing full well that he would have company in order to watch the theatrics, she swallowed with some difficulty, instead opting to take a small sip from her tea.

“Ah, yes.” Almost immediately, his casual expression turned serious, though his constant gentleness remained. “As a result of being thoroughly indisposed throughout most of it, I feel I am still a bit… behind on the full story of your trial. Dr. Olsen explained some details, including his involvement, during the drive but I would like to hear your perspective, if you do not mind.”

“Ummm… how much of it?” When he only gave her an encouraging nod, she took a deep breath, tightening her hands around the mug, and laid out everything, from the research to the theft and delivery of the drug. From Mrs. Martinez’s final fate to her friends’ support in the investigation and trial. Dr. Banerji was an attentive listener, exuding calm without judgment and only interrupting with the rare question.

After she finished, a silence fell over the room, one that she couldn’t bring herself to break, especially not to question whether knowing the full facts changed his opinion of her. Instead, she raised her cup, taking a sip of her now lukewarm tea, and resisted the urge to fidget as Dr. Banerji sat forward, expression thoughtful.

“Dr. Olsen mentioned being the one who told the Martinez family about your involvement, among various other… grievances he committed against you. And yet you accepted his help with little ill-will. Even he was surprised.”

Taken aback herself, she shrugged. “Our history didn’t matter when it came to a potential cure for you. Saving lives is far more important. And anything beyond that was his own choice.”

“And that is why he made the choice to support you in the end.” He nodded, seemingly to himself, and relaxed back into his seat. “Thank you. For both telling me everything and for your selflessness when you had far more pressing issues threatening your career than helping an old man. Your future patients are in good hands.”

“I should be thanking you.” She shifted slightly, then… “Do you truly want to leave the diagnostic team?” The words fell out of her mouth before she could snap her mouth shut, but he didn’t seem to mind, only steepling his fingers with a thoughtful expression.

“Would it surprise you if I said yes?” When she said nothing, he chuckled, but it was low, tired. “I loved my time leading the team, make no mistake, and I have no doubt you will find it a most rewarding experience. Being able to witness the trickiest cases, solve the toughest puzzles… It is an honor but…” He sighed, something resembling melancholy filtering into his voice. “I was too involved, too stressed, especially when I put my everything into it. In some ways, the irony is quite humorous.”

Drawing a breath, he sat forward, their eyes meeting, and the intensity of his gaze nearly took her breath away. “I loved it. I still love it. And I never fully realized how far I was until I physically could not maintain that life any longer. Only when I was staring death in the face did I notice how much of life I had missed. Now that you have given me a second chance, I have no intention of squandering that.”

Unsure of what she could even say to that, she only nodded, and he laughed again, more lighthearted this time. “I suppose you weren’t expecting such a heavy answer. My apologies for burdening you with an old man’s rambling.”

“No, it was very insightful to get your perspective. Just…” She hesitated, trailing off as she bit her lip.

He folded his hands around his mug and leaned back into his seat with a warm look. “You no doubt have more questions. Please feel free to ask anything else you wish.” There was something in his eyes, an understanding, as if he knew the doubt already lingering in her mind.

Encouraged, or perhaps emboldened, by his expression, she took a deep breath. “Why me? You already knew about the trial and there are plenty of strong residents who don’t have so much of a… reputation.”

Grinning, he shrugged. “Who else cured the sepsis?”

“That wasn’t just me. Dr. Olsen was the one who gave me the inspiration…”

To her surprise, he smiled wider. “And that is why you will make a brilliant diagnostician. Too many of us rely on only ourselves or those directly involved. And on one hand, it makes sense. Between patient confidentiality and our experience, we truly are the foremost experts in diagnosing tricky cases. But that also makes us incredibly insular. We must learn to branch out and reach out more, to trust others and obtain second and third opinions. I learned that almost too late. And Ethan…”

She straightened instinctively at the name, though she kept her face as impassive as she could. Thankfully, Naveen either didn’t notice or said nothing. “Ethan relies on me too much. There are few who could have achieved what he has done in ten years, but as a consequence, it kept him closed off from the world, from everyone outside of the team.” He sighed, though the sound was more affectionate than distressed. “I suspect Ethan has told you that I never married, never had a family?”

For a moment, she hesitated, but Naveen only chuckled. “It is hardly a secret, really. I decided very early in my career that I would focus all of my energy on my patients and that anything else, everything else, would be secondary. Ethan is the closest thing I have to family left, and while it is a rewarding life, it is also a lonely one. And now, I see him following much the same path. Or, at least, he would have been if not for you.”

“Me?” Her voice was more of a squeak than anything, but to his credit, his laugh was almost passably a cough.

“You. You brought him out of his shell, reminded him what it was to live for himself.” His eyes twinkled. “You called him out on his bullshit when he deserved it, and encouraged him when he needed it. And especially now that I am no longer able to keep an eye on him, now that he will be leading the team, I think he needs that more than anything else.”

For a moment, she hesitated, wondering just how much he knew, but when he said nothing else, she nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I can ask. Thank you.”

She shook her head, swallowing around a sudden lump in her throat. “No, thank you. For believing in me and giving me this opportunity and also for making Ethan the man, the attending, he is today. I can honestly say that I don’t think I’d be here otherwise, and I’ve already learned so much.”

His answering chuckle filled the room with warmth. “Perhaps, but I have no doubt you’ll have found your way here no matter what. This is your calling, Isabelle, and I don’t think anything could have kept you from it for long… except, it seems, the rambling conversations with an old man. My apologies.”

Grinning, she waved a hand at him. “No worries. It was… enlightening, to say the least, though I really should get back to my patients before Dr. Mirani comes looking for me.”

“I’m glad, and if he gives you any grief, feel free to place the blame solely on me.”

When he winked, she laughed and got to her feet. “And send him your way? I should hope not!”

He chuckled again, and she made her way to the doorway, though she paused when he called out.

“And Isabelle?” She turned to find him watching her with a mix of pride and understanding. “I do hope that you can take my words to heart as well. Please let me know if you ever have any questions, or just need to talk.”

Without thought, she raised an eyebrow. “Or want advice on the patients, no doubt?”

“Old habits die hard.” He grinned, suddenly mischievous, and raised his voice. “Oh, and please tell Ethan that I am still well, but if he must, he can come back in to check for himself, instead of just hovering outside the door attempting to eavesdrop.”

She twisted to find the man in question waiting in the hallway, muttering something that sounded impressively uncomplimentary under his breath, and met his gaze, laughing when he flushed. “Will do.”

It wasn’t until Dr. Mirani found her, nearly a quarter hour later, and commented on the unnecessarily chipper bounce in her step that she realized her face hurt from smiling.

#Open Heart #Ethan Ramsey x MC #Naveen Banerji #Ethan Ramsey #Play Choices #Tina writes stuff.#Tina plays Choices.#otp: worth any risk #Dr. Isabelle Wang

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not-all-that-chic · 6 years

Text

A Purple Haze

parts ⟨ prologue | yugyeom | youngjae | jinyoung | bambam | mark | jackson | jaebum | epilogue ⟩

wordcount | 5.3k

warnings | master/slave, masochism, thigh-riding, squirting, bondage

rec. track | ♫ ♩

After I get appropriately dressed with clean undergarments, I sit in the chair in front of his desk. I flip the book to its first page. Already, it's so intriguing. True to his character, the notes written are barely legible, ideas flowing from one section of the page of the other. Scratching my head, I try to decipher everything.

The Land of Wonder started off as nature until the Watchmaker came and created his tower. No one knows how exactly this happened. Then the ruins appeared. Who knows what came first: the Clocktower or the ruins. After the King of Hearts started to rule the north was under his control, but the Watchmaker never join-

I shut the journal, knowing it's useless to continue reading. There is some semblance of coherency, then it becomes lost in the jumbled thoughts. He writes just like he thinks: from one idea to the next. With a sigh, I put the journal back into his drawer, but then my eyes catch sight of something interesting.

It nearly slips out of my hands when I pick it up— from all the dust. I blow on it and then wipe the cover.

Tales of Wonder. Written by the Watchmaker.

This Watchmaker person... he must be important if he is mentioned by the White Rabbit so many times.

"Hopefully I can understand this one," I mumble as I flip it open.

Hello. If you are reading this, you are most likely a Wanderer, sucked through the portal of this land.

My eyes widen; clearly, this person knows a lot. The Watchmaker. Who is he? And then I wonder, am I not the first "wanderer" to come through here?

I go on.

I am the Watchmaker, the first resident of this land. I must inform you that this place is extremely dangerous. Once you have collected three keys, the risk only increases. The sequence of key collection is always the same. You must be cautious; none have collected the seventh key, as the (future) King of Hearts is cruel and evil.

I turn pale. The King of Hearts is the last Guardian.

Since the Duke of White created his kingdom, we have been in a sea of endless turmoil. To add to the fire, the Mad Hatter also included himself in the firefight. You see, for decades now, the northern and southern kingdoms have been fighting for control. Along with the Mad Hatter, we have been split and forced to choose sides, an impending war upon us.

I swallow. How did I remain oblivious of this all this time?

The northern Heart Court, the center Hatter Mansion, and the southern White Court. You must be able to traverse through this land, obtain the seven keys and leave. However, most who arrive here never are able to leave-

I slam the book shut. A cold sweat forms on my back.

"Why did you stop?" Jumping so hard, I fall out of my chair. Jackson is leaning against the desk, finger rubbing down the spine of the book.

"Jackson!" He grins when he hears me.

"Happy to see me? Hm?" His eyes glow an ominous color. This cat, so full of mystery.

"Yes."

"I appreciate your honesty," he purrs, sitting on top of the desk. For a long moment, he stares at me. "What are you waiting for? Come sit, Pet."

"I don't know if I want to read any more of that..." Jackson shakes his head after I sit down. My hands are in my lap as I shift my gaze back to the book.

"As much as it scares you, you must finish it."

"Why can't you explain to me instead?" His tail swings back and forth.

"My explanations are not as clear as Namjoon's."

"Wh-"

"The Watchmaker," he answers me. He points his finger at the book. "Come. Read it."

Nodding, I go back to where I left off.

With conflict like this brewing, there must be a weapon of mass destruction or breaking point. I am unaware of what the kingdoms are planning, but it does not bode well. There is nothing within your power that can stop this. Wanderer. All I can hope is that you can survive to leave this place. That you will not be here for the inevitable demise of the Land of Wonder.

A hand brushes my cheek. I turn to the Cheshire, who is somber.

"Tears do nothing."

"Jackson... Aren't you scared?" He places a hand on my head.

"Of course. However, no one can do anything. The Watchmaker and I can only watch as this place slowly crumbles." My gaze drops to my hands in my lap.

Why must something so terrible happen in a place so beautiful and unique? I thought it would be perfect here. Somewhere for me to have fun and go on.

"Is there nothing that can be done?"

"No. Unless the lost princess returns."

Now that is interesting. As of yet, I haven't seen or heard of any women aside from the Queen of Hearts.

"Who is that?" I tilt my head.

Strangely, the grandfather clock downstairs chimes loudly. Three times it rings.

He seems to mull over telling me until a wicked grin appears on his face again. His eyes still sparkle with sadness, but the ever Cheshire smile remains on his lips.

He hops off the desk and motions for me to get up.

"Perhaps I can tell you another time." Jackson pushes me out of the room and down the stairs until we reach the front door.

"J-Jackson! Hey!"

"Now now. Don't strain your voice yelling at me. I must be going now."

"Where? Where do you go? Why don't you stay?" I nearly stumble down the hill. Jackson only clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

Once again, I'm in the forest.

"I cannot answer that. What's a Cheshire without his secrets?" Just as turn around to give him a good tongue lashing, he's disappeared.

"What in the world! You-you!" I sigh.

Wonderful. I am alone again. And lost again. Well, I suppose being lost is a normalcy in this place. To think I have only collected two keys.

I know that the King of Hearts is the last Guardian. And that makes me chilled to the bone. I have heard only bad things about him. Is he as horrible as everyone says? Even the Watchmaker, who is so wise, believes he is evil.

How can someone villainous be a Guardian?

And a sudden— but enlightening —thought hits me.

Jackson said earlier that he and the Watchmaker must watch as the world crumbles. What does that make Jackson? Where do they stand? How can I possibly go on and enjoy this journey knowing this ever-present danger is looming over me?

The more I learn, the more questions I have. So far, none have been answered. This place is more than the peaceful, fantasy world I originally envisioned.

You will come to learn, nothing is ever perfect, Pet.

The first thing I hear is the melodious voices of who knows what. Everything seems to sparkle after the storm, the water on leaves looking like diamonds. This area of the forest is especially beautiful. Rich, green plants, and tall pines.

This is definitely different from the other forests, which were thick and full of trees. It exudes a welcoming and beautiful aura— if an aura could be described as beautiful, that is.

"And I could finally fly~"

I stop in my tracks. Quietly, I hide behind a tree. A few in front of me, there is a man surrounded by beautiful flowers. Flowers abnormally large, but I'm sure that's nothing out of the ordinary here.

"The rain can't touch us now~"

"Now~"

"Dee Dee deeeee~"

Blinking rapidly, it dawns on me that he isn't the only one singing; the flowers are as well!

I come a bit closer, enraptured by the music and his beauty. He notices me, standing straight up and giving me a most angelic smile.

His hair is a soft, bubblegum pink and he is perhaps one of the most attractive men I have ever seen. His attire is regal: an all-white ensemble with golden accents and golden lapels. Do angels exist in the Land of Wonder?

He bows— and I'm terribly caught off guard, so I stand there like a gaping fish —and I follow with a curtsy.

"Oh. You have manners. Those are difficult to find here. It's a pleasure to meet you. I am called Rose."

After I introduce myself, ever curious, I ask, "Is that your real name?"

"My personal name is Seokjin, but I would appreciate you refer to me as Rose, after all, you are no friend of mine."

Although it is true, it hurts to hear. Everyone thus far has been so friendly, so this is a shock.

"Do not be hurt," he chirps. Smiling again, he grabs my hand and places me on a rock. His arm flairs behind him and the flowers all sparkle to life.

My eyes glimmer with awe, hands clasped together.

"Would you like to hear my newest piece?"

"Yes. That would be nice." Just like that, he turns serious, adjusting his cravat. His hand sparkles and a stick appears within it.

"Huh-hum-" he clears his throat.

"Do not waste time." Another voice appears. When I turn my head, I spot another extremely handsome and regal man. Rose looks at him with contempt.

"Vile creature. You know I dislike your presence."

"Likewise," the man addresses him coldly. He looks to me, eyes regarding me with interest. Who is this man?

"You've anything to say? Or will you stare at my guest?" The newcomer waves him off and comes forward.

I rise from my seat naturally, his simple presence making me want to obey. He looks me up and down, then his eyes spot something hanging from my waist: my keys. His eyes change.

"Follow me." As simple as that, he stuffs his hands into his pockets and moves in the direction from which he came. Looking at Rose, I silently ask if I should. I'm unsure if I should trust him, but what really do I know? Neither of these men seems particularly kind.

Although he is disgusted by the man, he crosses his arms and says, "The parasite never shows interest in anyone. I suggest you do as he asks."

Nodding, I thank him and pick up my dress to follow the other man. He is silent and very slow as he leads me through the tall blades of grass. For a place where everyone is dressed rather antiquated, his all-black suit stands out. The only thing I find odd is his coattails which are so long they drag on the ground.

He suddenly stops and raises his arm high into the air. I begin to wonder why, but he shushes me. A purple orb appears in his hand, bathing the area in a lavender light. And amazing to behold, the grass before us parts. His long legs guide him through as I confusedly stumble after him.

When we enter the secluded area, I have to stop, the sight so breathtaking. We are in a cave of sorts, vines hanging from the ceiling. The sunlight that peaks through is filtered through a purple tarp— that he likely set up —that bathes the area in a rich, violet glow. In the middle, there is a mushroom with a purple satin sheet where he promptly sits.

A pipe of sorts appears in his hand, attached to a long cord and a bong. I've never seen anything like it in my life. And he smokes it, sighing as he does so. I feel confused by it, but say nothing about it.

"Who are you?" He takes a long drag, different colored smoke leaving his lips.

"My name is-"

"Who are you?" I'm taken aback.

"That's what I was about to-" his ears grow red as he leans forward, in my face.

"No. Who. Are. You?" The smoke comes out of his lips and on my face. I cough and ball up my fists. Why did he drag me here? To question me and not let me answer?

"Listen up...you!"

"My name is not you. It is Jinyoung. Learn to respect others."

"Respect! You say respect?!" I come up in his face and he leans forward with just as much fervor. Intimidated, I move back.

"The Caterpillar."

"Caterpillar?"

"I know why you are here." Furrowing my brows, I am now rapt with attention. How is that he doesn't know who I am but knows why I am here?

Then he pulls a key out of his pocket. My eyes widen as I look back up at him. He is suddenly removing his jacket. I blush furiously.

"Let's get on with it, shall we?"

"W-what?" He looks unamused as he stares at me.

"Have you not done this twice already? You should come to expect it. Now," he says as he unbuckles his belt. "Bend over so I can end this quickly."

I somehow feel like a nuisance. All I want to do is leave this place and finish Jackson's game, but I want to do it enjoyably. Is that not what it means to play a game? However, I hike my dress up. Jinyoung's tongue clicks.

"Do you not want to go home?" He voices my thoughts.

"Well, yes, but this is a bit..."

"Detached? Would you like more than just simple coitus?" When he puts it that way, it makes me feel desperate. I feel worthless. My legs shake.

"I don't know..."

"I would like to offer some advice." Jinyoung waits for me to nod. "Your heart is too kind. Do not let yourself be manipulated by the people of this land. Not everyone will be forthcoming with their intentions as I have been." I blink, his statement oddly comforting and wise.

"I will take that to heart. Thank you very much, Jinyoung." The sound of his disrobing stops. I wonder why, so I turn around, but his lips capture mine as soon as I do.

Soft, silky. My mind is invaded by a fog. They feel so plush and warm. My heart speeds up. This is much different from his attitude only seconds before. His arm wraps around my waist, hiking my dress up and placing a hand on my ass. He gives it a light squeeze and I moan into his mouth.

We separate, a thin string of saliva between our lips. Jinyoung's eyes are penetrating mine, looking at me with hunger.

"You are a beautiful girl. I would have loved to have been your first." A long, thin finger trails around my panties, playing with the hem. I gulp. He grabs my hair and pulls my head back before his lips meet my throat. His lips kiss up the column and I shiver, closing my eyes from the pleasure.

He knows what he is doing.

Jinyoung then places a hand over my heat. He does nothing, simply sits it there. The mere insinuation makes my imagination run wild. I moan, begging wordlessly for him to do something. When I begin grinding against his hand, he gets rid of it. Despite my whining, he doesn't relent.

"Strip," he commands. I feel shaken and stirred by his voice, rushing to do exactly as he asked. Once I'm naked, he looks me up and down. It's a bit humiliating to be stared at like an object, but it gives me a thrill I can't place. An all-knowing smirk forms on his perfect lips. His finger motions for me to come closer.

I eagerly place myself on his thigh. My eyes meet his, waiting for whatever he has in store for me next. I'm putty in his hands.

"You're so horny. Well, work for it." He leans back.

"W-what?" The Caterpillar rolls his eyes before he grabs my hips. He pushes me against his thigh, my clit rubbing against the rough fabric of his pants.

"A-ah!" The feeling hurts, but it's so deliciously painful that it becomes pleasure. This direct stimulus on my clit has me shaking.

I quickly understand exactly what he wants. Leaning against him, my fingers clench around his shirt as I press myself on his pants. A weak whine comes from my lips. This isn't enough.

My pace quickens as I grind harder and harder against his pants, but this can only do so much for me. I press onward, searching for my high. More. I need more.

He sighs and rolls his eyes, bored. "So useless. This can't get me hard."

He realizes that I need something else and clenches his thigh muscle. The feeling of his hard muscle on my wet pussy drives me crazy. There's nothing inside me and yet I feel so full. I rut against his thigh faster as he clenches and unclenches his muscle.

My clit is raw from my rubbing, but I can feel myself building, ready to burst. A little pain is nothing for the pleasure bound to come.

"Look how you make a mess."

"Oh, Jinyoung," I drag out his name as I watch the wet spot on his pants grow. It makes me feel like a mess, knowing I’m messing up his nice pants.

He suddenly grabs my hips, stopping me as he glares at me.

"What did I say about respect?" I try grinding again, unsatisfied by him ruining the moment. He keeps a hard— certain to bruise —grip on my hips.

"Call me Master and I'll let you go."

A bright red blush forms on my cheeks. The idea of calling someone that is so embarrassing, but I want to. I really don't understand this commanding effect he has on me. It makes me feel inferior, but I'm somehow turned on further, my pussy sopping wet and eager for him. I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Master... May I please keep grinding on your leg?" It takes a lot to say that, but I'm rewarded by his gentle smile and a peck to the lips.

"Such a good slave. So polite. Go ahead." I shiver. He releases his grip and my clit throbs once I return to my grinding. How do I look, so desperately grinding against his thigh like a bitch in heat while he remains so unaffected? Jinyoung grabs my chin and grazes my bottom lip with his thumb.

Then he slides at in as I moan and lick it. He smirks at this. That face is so damn hot that I feel it in my whole body. The idea of him sticking his cock inside of my mouth instead of his finger fills my head. My clit pulsates and I practically am sliding on his thigh from how wet it has gotten.

"Wouldn't you like to cum all over my pants? Get them dirty with your juices." Moaning so loud, his words egg me on further. If possible, I grind harder. My chest heaves with the labor he's putting me through.

"Oh god!" I feel like I'm about to cum. He knows it. Stars flicker in my vision as a knot forms in my belly. It's painfully close.

"I have something fun planned for you. If you hurry and cum, Master will make you feel even better." That’s my breaking point. With one last grind, my body trembles with the aftershocks of my orgasm. Something strange washes over me as Jinyoung rubs my back.

I feel whole.

"Did I do well, Master?" I lean against him, breathing hard.

"You did well, Slave. Why don't you go sit down on the mushroom?" Nodding, I obediently go to sit, my legs numb from the powerful orgasm. I nearly topple over.

When I glance over at him, there is a huge bulge in his pants. Well, I'm not the only one that was turned on. I managed to get him hard and it makes me proud.

He stands in front of me and commands, "Take off my clothes. Be a useful slave." Smiling, I reach over and unbutton his shirt easily. His body amazes me.

"Can I touch, Master?"

"Go ahead." My eyes sparkle as I run my hands over his built chest and abs. He's so handsome I feel breathless. I glance down at his pants and lick my lips. That's what makes me most excited. Although his beauty is a bonus.

"Master, can I suck your cock?" Jinyoung is taken aback by this, my expression so seemingly pure, the question sounding so innocent, but the intent nothing but filthy.

For the first time, he groans. It makes me so happy to have pleased him.

"What I would do to shove my cock down your throat."

"Why don't you?" He chuckles.

"Perhaps another time. I promised to make you feel good." My face erupts in a pink blush. I can say with certainty that I have never met someone so selfless. Yes, I realize it is sex, but he is so focused on my wants and needs that he has forgotten his own needs.

He acted so cold at first, but through sex, he has shown a softer side. Fuzziness bubbles in my chest.

"Thank you, Master."

"Turn around." Once I do so, I feel satin wrap around my wrists. It makes me a little nervous, but I'm sure he will treat me well enough. I can't help feeling such innate trust with him.

Jinyoung gently picks me up and places me back toward him.

"Have you done something like this?"

"Never."

"If you say 'Caterpillar', I will stop." I smile again and he returns it.

He lies me down on the mushroom and now I am at his mercy. His soft lips brush against mine. They're wet and mine are already bruised from biting them earlier. Jinyoung's tongue peeks out to rub against the small cut. I moan at the slight burn.

Everything has been an amazing mix of pain and pleasure, push and pull. It's satisfying to all my senses. Jinyoung pulls back and starts a trail of kisses down my chest before he latches onto my nipple. My hands are immobilized, under my body. I so badly want to shove my hands in his hair and bring him closer.

This teasing is making me horny again.

He circles my nipple with his tongue, sucking on it occasionally and releasing it with a pop. Jinyoung presses a kiss to the nipple and moves the other, giving it the same attention. His teeth come out and take the nub between them. It hurts a little, but in the best way.

This man knows exactly what to touch to make me feel good. I could probably cum now if he keeps this up.

His mouth migrates down to my belly. To my shock, he licks my belly button. That strange tickle has me arching into his mouth. He chuckles and god does that make me want him even more. I feel so desperate to touch him and make him feel good, too.

"You're moaning so loud. You're enjoying this a little too much." I hadn't even noticed I was moaning. All I can focus on is Jinyoung and his amazing tongue.

"Oh, Master please touch my pussy!" I can't stop the words from slipping, but as lewd as it is, I can't find a reason to care. We're in our own world and I just want him to make me feel good.

He removes himself from me and I watch as he removes his pants and underwear in one fast swipe. His cock is impressive and I wiggle, already imagining it inside me.

Jinyoung raises his hand and a purple object appears in his hand. It dawns on me as he grabs one in each hand.

My pussy has never been so wet. All these strange things, new feelings. None of these...kinks have ever occurred to me before, but now the idea of them is the only thing I can think of, so excited to try everything he has in mind.

He comes forward and gently attaches the nipple clamps to each of my nipples. It hurts, but I love it and I moan and buck upward, so desperate to get fucked now I probably seem insane.

"Oh, please Master! Please fuck me so hard I can't walk!" Jinyoung smirks and shakes his head.

"As pretty as you are when you talk, I'll need to do something about that."

Before I can ask, his hand materializes a gag. He comes behind me and sits me up, tying the ball gag around my mouth. I moan and lean against his chest, my ass brushing against his hard cock.

His hand reaches forward as his finger barely grazes my pussy lips.

Absolute electricity runs up my spine. My head lands on his shoulder.

"Look at my little slave. That pussy is so wet I could shove my finger in it and it would swallow it up," he whispers in my ear, his breath warm. I clench around nothing and moan, nodding. Saliva gathers around the gag, the image forming in my head getting me hot.

"I'm going to put a blindfold on you. Be good for me."

He gingerly sets it on my eyes and once he ties it around my head, I realize that I'm placing my full trust in him. It makes me nervous but also turns me on. I'm completely at his mercy, ready for him to do what he pleases with my body.

Jinyoung maneuvers me onto my back again. Then he spreads my legs. I feel myself trembling with anticipation. His weight moves around and then I feel something warm against my clit. What is that? His finger? His tongue?

"You smell lovely," he admits as he blows cold air onto my abused clit. It's soothing. I feel his hands reach up, running up and down my inner thighs.

I can practically smell my desire in the air. The feeling of his hands on my thighs is such a banality, but with Jinyoung, everything is more exciting and sexy and turns me on— I can't explain how good it feels.

His hands part my pussy lips open, but he does nothing.

"I can't wait to stick my dick inside." I practically sob, wanting no more than to tell him, "Do it!"

I hear something plastic opening and Jinyoung shuffles above me. A condom. Safety is extremely important and how very Jinyoung of him to have that foresight.

Instead of making me wait, the head of his cock rubs against my entrance and feel myself sag with relief of finally getting what I have been waiting for.

"Nod if you are okay." I do so and he gently shoves his large dick inside. My body arches off the sheets and he chuckles. He waits a few moments for me to adjust until I wiggle, motioning for him to go.

And Jinyoung starts off extremely slow, his thrust deep, but almost teasing. I have an odd feeling he won't be so gentle once we start.

He presses his fingers onto the nipple clamps, the pain shooting through me and I moan so loud it is bordering on a scream. Jinyoung laps at my neck and bites some spots hard enough to leave a mark. An especially deep thrust hits my g-spot— my eyes roll.

I throw my head back, not knowing what to do with all the sensations.

"Look at you. I wish you could see yourself, Slave. You look like so needy. I make you like this, hm?" His cocky tone shoots to abused pussy and he starts picking up his pace, pumping inside me at a merciless pace.

He grunts and I moan and pant along with him, his sounds bringing me closer and closer. With a hand, he sticks two fingers inside me, as if his cock wasn't enough. My heart is beating so fast I feel like it will escape my ribcage. His fingers curl and hit my g spot every time, building my pleasure beyond reason.

I want to use my hands and eyes, see him and feel him, but the uselessness of my situation is, in fact, more exhilarating. Jinyoung makes use of my gag and pushes the ball against my tongue, making me gag on my own saliva.

The same, white-hot feeling creeps up. And I feel it everywhere. From my numb arms to my chest to my legs to my pussy.

Jinyoung leans forward, pressing his chest against mine and groans, his thrusting wild now and I can tell that after all that teasing, he's near his end, too. His fingers move faster inside me, his thumb rubbing my clit as well as his other hand tweaks my nipple while he also sucks hickeys on my neck.

His goal is to destroy me.

And with a few more pumps, I scream from behind my gag and convulse, thrusting upward. The feeling is overwhelming and I feel like I'm nearly passing out from the intense pleasure. Something strange spurts out of my pussy, almost like pee. Jinyoung— after such a show cums with deep, guttural sigh.

He instantly peels the gag and blindfold off me, smiling down at me with pride. His arms keep him upright as he lets his cock go limp inside me. Jinyoung presses a peck on my lips. I sigh.

That was such a journey, not just sexually, but mentally.

"You squirted," he chuckles. Blushing, I close my eyes and look away. He then sits me up to untie my hands.

Jinyoung makes a blanket materialize in his hands as he wraps it around us. It makes me happy, to be treated so well.

"I would like to offer more advice before I give you my key. Once I give it to you, I must send you on your way." He rubs my back as I cuddle deeper into the blanket.

"Hm?"

"The next Guardian you will meet is the Mad Hatter."

Mad Hatter. I have heard that name. He is fighting against the Heart and White Court. But he isn't a king. Not in the traditional sense.

"From this point forward, everyone you meet has an important role in the endless tick of the Land of Wonder. We in the Deep Woods do not play a part in the war."

I gulp and nod. War. Again.

"Thank you, Jinyoung. This is the most help I've gotten." He sighs and shakes his head.

"Typical. Should you have any doubts, it would be a great pleasure to help. You are the first wanderer to be...different."

Then, the moment I have been anticipating: his key. There is a large bow on the key, almost taking up the whole key. The key itself is small, a simple rod with no teeth. From the violet bow, there is a golden chain hanging. At the top, the hole has a triangle shape with three holes.

He gingerly places it on top of my dress.

"You can stay as long as you please. I need to have a long rest."

"Jinyoung, can I ask one more thing?" He hums to show he is listening.

"Can you tell me about the Mad Hatter?"

"The Mad Hatter will be kind to you, but his kindness is for the sake of his pride."

He smiles and using some magic, makes the cave a bit darker. "Now, I suggest you rest before you continue. The Hatter mansion is far from here."

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