#what do you MEAN it's possible to remove a full set of nail polish in under two minutes

[eugeniedanglars]

i forget the details but you know that post where a person was explaining to their therapist how they really hate doing some task because of the annoying process involved and the therapist was like "why don't you just [extremely simple alternate way of doing things]?" and the person had never realized they were allowed to do it that way? yeah i just had that moment where after years of using a shitty non-acetone nail polish remover just because i happened to already own the bottle i finally realized i could just... buy regular nail polish remover. and guys? it turns out nail polish is way easier to remove if you use acetone

[n0toverit]

huge vent feel free to ignore

okay day is now becoming kinda bad day esp with everything that’s happened recently i haven’t worked in like two weeks bc quit old job to go to new job bc i got a car which is literally everything i worked for at old job like saving 550-650 per check so i could get a car and then i got in an accident so i have no car which is the whole reason i went to new job interview and got the job that o was so happy and so excited for and now i have no car so i got all used to having my own time and doing things in my own not asking if i can be dropped of here or if i can be brought there i could just do it on my own and i was able to see bf twice a week instead of once bc he wasn’t the only one driving all the way to me and back every week but now i get more info on new job just to find out my kinda ex friend at this point that works there told me ppl wear jewelry and have their nails and lashes done blah blah so i give myself a fresh set of acrylic nails this past weekend, i would have had lashes but that was the day of the accident just for the email to say no perfume/cologne, no jewelry whatsoever (rings of any sort, earrings, bracelets,watches) no makeup, no hair or eyelash extensions, no acrylic nails or nail polish, and above all that said that if you violate any part of the dress code you’ll be sent home and have training rescheduled for the next week which mine was already rescheduled bc the class i was supposed to be in on the 5th got too full so they moved me to the 12th now i have to remove a basically full fresh set of acrylics and take off all of my jewelry including my ring from my boyfriend which means the most to me i literally cried the one day i forgot to put it back on a couple weeks ago after washing my cat and then take out all 3 sets of earrings i have and possibly lose the 3rd holes entirely that i only got making sure with that friend that i would be able to wear at least just regular plain earrings and not have to take them out and she said yes they shouldn’t say anything so not only was i basically fully lied to but i have only a few days to figure out what to do with all my stuff idk if they’ll let me in with clear piercing retainers or not i’ll have to see how they look cause i’m not sure if i’ll have my hair up or not this is all so disappointing and upsetting with the fact that i’m pretty sure all week i’m gonna have to uber home too cause they’re doing it on a tuesday when my regular schedule has me off from sunday -tuesday and alternating wednesdays i’m happy i have the job and it’s a better working place than the last job i had especially since i know i won’t be doing 3diff ppls jobs and playing manager through the week but i wish the stupid accident didn’t happen and my stupid friend wasn’t so stupid if i can even call her a friend at this point we had this not rlly huge but idk falling out argument whatever that she complains how she feels like i don’t want hang out with her anymore or that i spend all my time with my bf who i’ve only been able to see 2-3 times a week IF IM LUCKY but normally once a week on tuesdays for over a year but she thinks i spend all my time and days off with him when he lives 45mins away from me or that i don’t wanna hang out with her when she leaves me on seen and delivered for weeks and at time and she thinks it’s like a hehe oopsies i did to that didn’t i like it’s so annoying and irritating i’ve actually fully stopped talking to her bc of it she said she was gonna be better about it and she hasn’t changed anything so i just stopped talking to her fully because it’s sad and annoying esp seeing as we were best friends since we were like 10-11 and now she just pretty much lies or pays so little attention and practically ignores me everything g is so upsetting recently i just wish i still had my car and never made that stupid appointment and that i had better friends when at this point my only friend is my boyfriend if he even really counts and maybe one other person but we can’t even really hang out now cause i don’t have a car anymore

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

How about a major nsfw scene where they are walking around the castle, just talking, but end up in the dungeon, if ya know what I mean ;)

@krispytidalwavesheep This is the fic I was talking about from your ask!

Warning: NSFW

“...And you’ve contacted the florist? Will the flower arrangements be arriving by tomorrow?”

“Yes, my Lady,” you say, pushing your glasses back over your nose as you check over your checklist for the hundredth time that day. You and Lady Dimitrescu had been going over the preparations for the ball tomorrow all morning. She had followed you around as you walked the length of the Castle, making sure everything was perfect for the occasion. The parquet floor has been swept to perfection, the windows polished, the banisters a riot of flowers.

As you are walking, you turn a corner and suddenly find yourself in an unfamiliar corridor. You turn to Lady Dimitrescu, a question forming on your lips. Suddenly, you hear a guttural growl, and find one of the Moroaicǎ bearing down on you with a Claymore. A scream rips from your throat as you cover your eyes, bracing for impact. It doesn’t come; instead, you hear the slash of metal slicing flesh. You open your eyes and find Alcina standing before you with her claws extended. The Moroaicǎ’s head rolls forgotten on the floor.

Alcina immediately runs over to you, cradling your face in between her large hands, running her thumbs along your cheekbones. “Darling, did it touch you? Are you hurt?” Concern is evident in her golden eyes.

“I’m fine, my Lady,” you say, feeling your face go scarlet at Alcina’s ministrations. “Really.”

The truth was the two of you had gotten rather close over the past couple weeks after the manthings’ attack on Castle Dimitrescu. You had even shared a couple nights together. When you saw Alcina’s muscles ripple as she severed the Moroaicǎ’s head from its body, you remembered what it was like having those arms wrapped around you and you felt your core heaten with desire.

Alcina smiles and kisses the back of your hand. “Come along, pet,” she says, taking your hand in hers. “Surely there won’t be any preparations needed for the dungeon?”

She turns to go, but you suddenly find yourself rooted to the spot. She looks at you in confusion.

“My, Lady,” you say slowly. “I know that we’ve been intimate…”

Alcina chuckles. “Whatever made you think of that, dear?”

You blush further but press on. “When you make love to me, my Lady,” you continue. “You’re always so gentle with me. As if I’m a fine piece of china and you fear I might break.”

Alcina puts her hand under your chin and tilts your face up to meet hers. “And do you not like the way I touch you, ingeras?” Her tone is mild, but her aureate eyes are alert and you find yourself unable to break away from her intense gaze.

“No, my Lady,” you whisper softly, holding her hand in place to your cheek. “I rather enjoy it. But there are times when I wish you would be...rougher with me.”

Alcina’s eyes are half lidded with desire. “And is now one of those times, pet?”

You suddenly find it difficult to breathe as you whisper, “Yes.”

She moves in suddenly to kiss you but you quickly sidestep out of her reach. She chuckles low in her throat. “Feeling a bit of a tease tonight, are we?”

You dance your way back to her, taking her hand in yours and leading her to a set of manacles chained to the wall. “Now just what are you planning?” she wonders, an amused smile playing at her carmine lips.

Taking the manacles in your hands, you clasp them over your Lady’s wrists. Then you pull the chain running through them until her back is flush against the wall, her wrists chained above her head. You turn your back to her but feel her eyes upon you as you turn around in the middle of the room.

Without once breaking eye contact with Alcina, you slide your hand up your skirt and slip two fingers into your core. You know your own touch cannot possibly compare to your Lady’s but it is so worth it to see Alcina’s mouth fall open in shock, her golden eyes burning with jealousy that she is not the one touching you, that it is not her fingers buried in your core.

As you increase the pace of your thrusting, you spot the Moroaicǎ’s discarded Claymore and get an idea. You take it and slash open the front of your dress. You rest the tip of the sword over your collarbone and press in slowly until blood begins to pour down your chest, settling between the valley of your breasts.

Alcina is snarling and railing against her bonds. Her teeth are bared, fangs glinting in the torchlight as she struggles to break free. You feel your climax building as she growls in frustration, spittle flying off her lips.

You hear the sound of metal screeching as Alcina finally breaks free of the manacles with a snap. Within seconds, she has crossed the distance between the two of you. With another slash of her claws, she rips the rest of your clothes off, like they were so much tissue paper. Holding you flush to her body, she runs her tongue over your collarbone, greedily lapping up any leftover blood.

Alcina pins you to the wall, slapping your hand away before sliding her fingers into your already dripping cunt. She does not maintain the pace she usually uses. Her movements are faster, more hurried this time. You rock your hips in time to each thrust, but soon find it difficult to keep up.

The two of you have made love plenty of times before this, but this is one of the few times you’re actually getting fucked.

She leans down and intermittently darts her wicked tongue into your core, stroking your inner walls, alternating her thrusting between her fingers and her tongue. Her nails bite into the curve of your hips as she holds you in place. You wrap your legs around her waist, leaning your head against the wall as you feel your orgasm getting closer and closer.

“Is this what you had in mind, slut?” she hisses, nipping the shell of your ear with the tip of her fangs. “I hope you’re prepared for what comes next.” She gives you a manic grin as she slips another one of her fingers into your core.

You choke out a gasp as the extra digit is added and Alcina gives you a satisfied smirk. “This is what our stretching sessions have been about, dear,” she cooes. “Come now, I know you can take it.”

You’re riding three of her fingers now and she is continuing her thrusting at a relentless pace. The stone wall against your back feels cold and clammy even as you feel yourself breaking out into a sweat due to Alcina’s ministrations.

When you finally orgasm, your voice echoes along the dungeon walls as you scream out Alcina’s name. Sinking along the wall, you find yourself going limp in Alcina’s arms. You feel Alcina’s tongue rasp along your thighs as she laps up your juices. “How very sweet you are, draga mea,” she purrs. She looks up at you and you see her ruby lips are dotted with flecks of white. Holding out her hand imperiously, she proffers her fingers slick with your orgasm. “You should really sample yourself, dear.”

You take her hand in yours and gently wrap your mouth around each digit in turn, rolling your tongue around each finger, suckling at your leftover juices. You feel her golden eyes upon you as you remove your mouth from her last finger, your lips making a firm popping sound.

Alcina can see that you are happy but exhausted. She runs her dry hand through your hair, now snarled and full of tangles. “Looks like I’ve tired you out, my dear,” she says, kissing your forehead. “We should get you cleaned up. How does a bath sound?”

You smile at her and give her a chaste kiss on the lips. “That does sound lovely. Thank you.”

Alcina carries you through the castle to the Hall of Ablutions and if anyone is curious as to why the Countess is carrying you naked and bloody, they at least make sure not to ask questions. When you finally arrive at the bathroom, Alcina orders the bathroom attendant to draw you a bath and waves her off after the tub is full.

You step in and sigh as the hot water makes contact with your sweaty and clammy body. You lean your head back against the porcelain and enjoy the warmth of the water seeping into your bones.

“Is there room for one more, draga mea?” Alcina teases. You look up and see that Alcina has already discarded her clothes on the floor. You smile and scoot up a little bit to make room for her. Alcina settles herself behind you and you sit on her lap as she begins tenderly massaging your scalp with soap, getting rid of any leftover blood that may have made its way to your hair.

“Do you know why I am usually so gentle with you?” she whispers.

You turn back to look at her. “You tell me,” you return, smiling mischievously.

But Alcina is serious. She turns your face to her, rubbing a thumb along your jawline. “It is because you are precious to me. When I see that someone so kind and so pure as you would want to be with someone like me. A monster like me-”

“Don’t say that,” you say fiercely, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “Don’t even think it.”

“Even so,” she continues and you are shocked to see her eyes are starting to pool with tears. “The fact that you know what I am, what I am capable of, and yet you still choose to be with me means more than any words I could hope to express. You are precious to me, my dearest darling. You are a treasure. And I love you.”

You can hardly breathe. Technically this is the second time she has told you that she has loved you. But you are ready for it this time. You kiss her hard, weaving your fingers through her dark locks. You pull away and look into her fathomless golden orbs as you say, “And I love you too, Alcina.”

“Well,” she says, chuckling low in her throat. “After all the the times we’ve spent with each other, it's about time you called me by my true name.” You feel another chuckle ripple through her body as she moves to kiss you again.

[bonny-kookoo]

Under Your Skin (JJK x Reader) | 🔞

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Goth/Punk!Jeon Jungkook x Secretary!Shy!Reader

Genre: Tattoo artist!AU, Badboy x Sweetgirl AU, Idk what else

Tags/Warnings: Ultimate goodboy Kook, He looks grr but is actually sweet, shy reader, smol reader, Kookers is WHIPPED, Also a tease, Dom!Jungkook because how could I not, Sub!Reader, Babygirl!Reader, Its not heavy on the whole ddlg-stuff but yeah they be having some vibes y'know, don't come @ me don't I'm not forcing you to read it lol, anyways moving on, because smut, yes I mean it's my content, and yall nasty admit it, slight hair pulling, manhandling also only a little, oral (f & m receiving), praising, mentions of emotional and physical insecurities, but Kook be supportive so we good, back to the nasty, body worship yes pls, biting, fingering, because why not, protected sex because we keep it clean in this household, light-hearted sex, kook being a romantic goof, yeah I think thats it?

Summary: Jungkook looks like absolute trouble; like one wrong look could set him off, and turn him into an absolute murderer. But oh well, ever heard the phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover'?

A/N: you might have noticed me only putting one emoji up top. I have decided to from now on only mark my adult fics with emojis (which is basically almost every single one lets be real). Also; stop reading my fucking fics if any of the tagged/warned things make you uncomfortable. I'm tired of everyone clowning in my inbox telling me how disgusting ddlg/smut content is. You can't even tell me you 'read it by accident' because that's why I'm always putting the cut underneath my fics =) so pls go finish preschool and then we can maybe shake hands. Maybe not. Covid and all. Yeah.

On the outside, Jeon Jungkook seems like absolute trouble.

He's working at a tattoo and piercing studio, dresses in all black, clattering chains and heavy boots always alerting everyone around of his presence. His long black hair is never truly tamed, his nails painted black, and his face expressionless most of the time. He's a talented artist and well trained piercer, always visiting conventions to keep up with the newest trends, styles, and equipment there is. He takes his job seriously- and is proud of it, knowing that he had proven his family wrong by now. They had been worried about him; especially his mother had scolded him that he shouldn't throw his time away trying to make it in a world of art many had already failed. But last year, he had finally invited them over to his rather nice apartment, showing them that he was living a good life, with nothing to really worry about.

Jungkook had made it.

Well, not quite.

Because as of currently, Jungkook had a new mission, a new goal.

"Ah, Jungkook!" You say, eyes sparkling as you smile at him when he enters the shop he works at. You had recently started to work there as well, since Taehyung was absolute shit at keeping files in order and track of schedules. You hadn't applied for the job specifically, that's at least what his coworker had told him- he had known you prior already, and was aware that you had wanted a change these days.

And Jungkook had been painfully crushing on you ever since you started.

"Your schedule for the week is already here- I uhm.. didn't put it on your desk cause, I didn't want to intrude your space and all.." You say, giving him a small black booklet where you always noted down his appointments. He appreciated it a lot- knowing how much of a hassle it could be to move dates back and forth just to somehow make it fit. You always made sure that he had enough time in between multiple daily pieces in case something took longer or less so you could make sure to be able to move things accordingly. You didn't want him to get overworked, you had said. He had smiled.

"Thanks- and you can go inside, no problem." He says, and you nod. "I know you don't make a mess, like someone else here." He says, hinting at Namjoon, who was known to be quite clumsy- yet a mastermind when it came to designing pieces he struggled with. Jungkook stayed at your front desk for a bit, making you tilt your head a bit, as you tried not to stare. He always took so much care of himself, you would have had to be blind not to see how attractive he actually was. But then again, you didn't get your hopes up- after all, he was nice to almost everyone around. "You've never been in there, right?" He asks, and you shake your head. You haven't been in his space at all- too scared to invade his privacy and making him upset in the process. "I mean- you got time right now? I can show you around." He casually tells you, and you look at your computer screen in front of you. Everything had been filed for today- so you probably had a bit of time to spare.

"Sure." You said, taking your phone and standing up from your chair, making sure to lock the pc so no one would accidentally make a mess out of your tabs. Or worse; close them. God knows all hell would break loose.

Jungkook had to really force himself not to let out any noise as you walked next to him.

You were so tiny next to him.

He wasn't that tall to be honest- with Namjoon and Taehyung both taller than him, he knew he was average at best. And for the longest time, he'd had a thing for tall girls, all elegant and confident. He still liked their aesthetic, yes- but now that he spotted you, he could really see the appeal of having a shorter significant other.

You were so cute.

You carefully stepped inside when Jungkook lifted the curtain that was used instead of a door, surprised to see how.. organized everything was. A little.. off- some things seemed to be randomly put somewhere, but in general, it seemed like everything had their proper spot. "I like to have it like this." He comments, and you nod your head to that, finally spotting his tattoo-gun. It was made out of purple steel- polished, and changing its hue depending on how you looked at it. It was absolutely beautiful, even though you had a rather limited understanding of these things. "Was a present from Taehyung last year." Jungkook says, sitting down on his chair. "I never asked- are you inked at all?" He asks, leaning backwards as you stand there a little awkwardly. "You can sit down somewhere, don't be so tense." He chuckles, and you look around, before you sit on the stretcher across from him. You shake your head, and Jungkook isn't surprised. Your pink converse sway back and forth as you sit on the stretcher, legs too short to reach the floor anymore as you rest your hands underneath your thighs; hem of your dress revealing more of them than he can usually see.

"I don't have any tattoos yet, but I've been talking to Namjoon about it." You said, and Jungkooks saliva tastes a little bitter at that. He doesn't want to pout or give away that it's bugging him at all that you're not talking to him about it- but he fails miserably. "Namjoon actually said I should talk to you about it, since the style I want fits you best." You say, and he can't hide his smile, bunny teeth on full display as he leans forward a bit.

"You'd let me tattoo you?" He asks, and you shrug, before nodding. "What do you have in Mind?" He instantly asks, not even bothering to hide his excitement.

If only you knew that it's because of you; and not just because he's gonna be the first to ink you.

You've both agreed on a design you want, and Jungkook can't deny that he thinks it's absolutely perfect on you.

"Are you scared?" Jungkook asks you as he prepares everything, his sweater's sleeves rolled up, revealing his own body art to you, as well as some bracelets; one that you recognize as the wooden-bead bracelet you had gifted him last year for his birthday. It was weird to see him wear it.

"I.. no. Just nervous." You say. "I'm worried I might cry and make a fool out of myself." You say with a laugh, and Jungkook chuckles, placing a reassuring and warm hand on your upper arm.

"It's fine. I've seen grown man cry like kids on this stretcher before." He casually says. "Don't worry; I won't think any less of you just because of some tears." He says with a smile, and you nod, turning your head to look at his room's walls instead; covered in drawings, sketches, and pictures of finished works he was most proud of. "Do you want anything to hold onto?" He asks, as he starts to shave the skin of your thigh to make sure he can work as best as possible. He's so into his work, so concentrated on doing everything perfect, that he doesn't even take much into account that you're laying in only your panties and oversized sweater; skirt neatly placed on a chair in the corner of the room, to get it out of the way.

"It's fine" You mumble, although you really want to. So instead you curl your fingers around the fabric of your sweater- something that doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, who decides not to comment on it for now. He simply throws the one-time razor away as well as the tissues used to clean your skin, before he carefully places the tracing paper onto where he seems fit.

"I think it would look great right here." He says lowly, carefully removing the paper to reveal the lines he's gonna trace with his gun in a few minutes. "You wanna look at it again?" He asks, and you shake your head. "Alright." He says, before he gets up and walks out his room; only to return with your small squishy and round unicorn plush that's usually sitting on your desk. "To hold onto." He winks, and you chuckle at that.

Jungkook really pays attention.

"So, Taehyung has told me you're a bit younger than me." Jungkook says to start casual chit-chat, trying to help your nervousness as his tattoo-gun starts to buzz to live. "Only a Year if I remember correctly." He says, and you nod.

"Yeah.." You say, and can't hide your dissapoinment flooding your voice. Jungkook, until now, only had relationships with girls older than him. He's even said before that he just likes having someone older than him around- which made you even more nervous around him.

"You sound upset about that." He chuckles, and gently holds onto your thigh as you jump a bit when he first presses the tip of the gun down. "Sorry. I'll be gentle." He lowly tells you, and you swallow.

Not the time Y/N, not the time.

"Uhm.." You say, fingers digging into the squishy plush in your hands. "I.. there's someone I like, but he.. only likes older girls, so.." You say, and Jungkook glances at you. You're already interested in someone? He continues to trace the lines, wiping afterwards to get the excess ink and blood off. "But I mean, then again I don't think I have a chance with him anyways." You chuckle, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head. Even if you're interested in someone else, he shouldn't let you have thoughts like that.

"Highly doubt that." He says. "If he doesn't see you, he's blind." He tells you, and you giggle, glad that he's able to make you feel a bit better about everything. "I'm serious." He says, and you nod at that, watching his inked arm flex every now and then as he draws with absolute concentration; black facemask hiding half of his face. You can see the way his eyebrows furrow, eyes fixated on his work as he moves with absolute routine. "Do I know the guy?" He casually asks, before he dips the tip of his gun in the tiny pot of ink again.

You don't know what to say.

He looks at you for a second, and decides not to dig. "You don't have to tell me. Sorry if I seemed nosy; didn't mean to." He apologizes, and you shake your head to let him know its fine. It's quiet for a moment afterwards, only the buzzing of his gun and your occasional whine of pain. "Sorry; it'll hurt a bit more now since I'm getting close to your inner thigh- that's always a little more sensitive." He comments, and you really hope he doesn't pay much attention to your panties.

When you can see his eyes stick to them for a second, you really want to just disappear.

He doesn't comment on it though. What is he suppsosed to say? He really doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and considering that you already have a crush on someone else, he doesn't want to get himself in too deep as well. He simply works away, finally finishing the thin and delicate outlines of your piece- the first step, before he will see you again for color and shading. He finally connects the last line, and doesn't think twice about what he says next.

"Good girl."

It takes a second that feels way too long for the both of you to register the words, and Jungkook quickly occupies himself with turning off his gun and cleaning up your skin and his workspace to get the awkwardness out of his room. You try to instantly stand up, but his palm holds onto your leg- silently ordering you to stay put, which you do. He rubs something over the piece, before he gently lifts your leg to wrap it. "I'll give you a bottle of lotion for it. Leave that bandage on for.. I'd say until tomorrow morning at least. Afterwards, apply the lotion everyday to help it heal properly." He lectures you with a gentle voice, before letting you sit up.

"Thanks." You say, grinning eagerly at the now hidden artwork on your leg. Jungkook chuckles.

"We're not done yet, but I'll take it." He says. "I uh.." He starts, as you jump off the stretcher and go to take on your skirt. "uhm, you up for some fast food?" He asks, a bit hurried, before he can chicken out again. And he hates himself for a moment, because you had literally told him just half an hour before that you already had interest in someone else. But maybe you were too innocent to get his innuendo, maybe you wouldn't get that he was asking you on a date-

"Like a date?" You ask, and he really wants to hit himself.

"I mean, if you want it to be?" He says, swallowing as he averts his gaze, a sight very weird. His hand runs through his hair, chain around his neck and piercings on his ears clattering against each other and making sounds as he moves, his combat boots nervously tapping the floor a little. "It doesn't have to be.. I know you're already-"

"I'd love to." You say however, now fully dressed again, as you grin with your bright sparkling eyes.

And Jungkook feels like he's won the lottery.

It's your third time laying on Jungkooks' stretcher like this- waiting for him to work on your art, finishing it today. But the energy is different.

Things are different between you two in general.

After some casual movie dates and rounds of overwatch, Jungkook had admitted to you that he had a crush. It was rushed, while he was driving, so he didn't have to look at you and instantly get hit by your reaction. But then, you had told him that you felt the same- and the two of you agreed to let things process from then on. Whatever would happen; you would let happen.

And Jungkook was starting to flirt with you.

It was a little weird to get close to him like that. While everyone seeing you two was a little taken aback- with your dresses and skirts, and colorful and almost childish personality, he seemed like the absolute opposite- quiet, all dark and dangerous while carrying your milkshake so you could put your phone away into your purse.

"Alright doll, let's finish this." He said with newfound enthusiasm, winking at you as you laughed at his demeanor.

"You seemed more excited than me!" You say, and he chuckles. "You're really desperate to have me gone?" You say in a playfully upset tone, and he simply huffs out a breath, before cockily looking at you for a second.

"That's not true." He says. "I'd just rather have you laid out somewhere else than in my studio, that's all." He casually says, and you shut your mouth at that, cheeks red as he laughs at your cute display of embarrassment. He routinely prepares your skin, before he starts his gun. "Too much?" He asks, and you know he's not talking about the pressure of his ink filled gun on your skin.

"No-" You start, and he now seriously speaks to you, voice a bit muffled through his facemask.

"Please tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable." He says. "You're not upsetting me if you tell me I'm going to far." He says, and you nod, knowing that he now needs a proper answer. Jungkook is way more attentive and romantic than people may think he is. He's a gentleman pulled out of a dictionary- careful and gentle with you, and always keen on getting to know you for you, and not for the person you like to portray yourself as. He wants to know what you like, what you don't like, what you dream of, and what you hate about yourself.

"Don't worry- I will." You say, watching him work on your skin. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply to let you know he's listening. "Is it okay if I sleep?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Didn't I tell you not to stay up for too long before I left yesterday?" He teasingly retorts back to you, and you pout at him- with no hard feelings behind it. He had left last night after eating with you for dinner at your place; and he did indeed tell you to go to sleep a little earlier since he knew you would have an early shift today, opening up the store. "I'm really tempted to say no." He says, eyes now on your skin again as he dips the tip of his gun in a pot of color. "You know, as punishment for not listening." He mumbles, and you almost don't catch it.

Almost.

"Jungkook?" Taehyung stands in his doorway, finally finding him sitting at his desk. "Oh?" He says in a surprised tone, spotting your sleeping figure on his coworkers lap- head resting against the inside of his shoulder, with your arms around his middle.

"Yeah?" Jungkook asks, not at all shy or fazed by the fact that Taehyung is looking at you. "What is it?" He asks again, as Taehyung smiles, giving the younger man his small booklet that you usually give him every morning.

"Nothing left for today." He said. "Just wanted to tell you good work and send you home." The older one explains, zipping up his own jacket. "Guess she'll be coming with you?" He asks teasingly, but Jungkook doesn't bite the bait at all.

"Yeah. Don't burn the house down while we're gone, you two. " He says, slipping the booklet into his pocket before he pats your back. "Come on doll, let's go home." He tells you, waking you up at least enough to put on your shoes and lead you out the store to his car.

He buckles your seatbelt as the engine comes alive, radio playing its tune softly in the background as he drives you home. "You awake doll?" He asks, and you nod your head, turning towards him with barely open eyes. "You haven't had anything proper to eat today, so I'll make us some ramen at my place, ok?" He asks, and you nod, before your eyebrows scrunch up. "What is it?" He chuckles, and you now grow more awake.

"Wait- but if we eat at yours then you're gonna have to drive me home late." You say, and he shrugs. "Noo, Kook, what if you crash the car because you're sleepy?" You tell him with a whine, genuinely concerned for him, as he has the audacity to laugh. "Kookie, it's not funny I swear to god-!" You say, and he apologizes.

"I mean." He starts, casually dropping what he had wanted to ask you for a couple of weeks now. "You could always just stay over." He tells you, and you look at him, meeting his gaze at the red light he stops at, his head turned towards you for a moment until the lights turn green again.

"We.. would have to stop at mine so I could get some stuff though.." You mumble, and Jungkook looks at you with newfound enthusiasm, setting his turning lights to enter a different road.

It's in a parking lot that you first unintentionally confront him with your biggest insecurities and flaws.

You've tripped over a stray stone you didn't see laying on the ground, leading you to fall onto your hands and scraping your knees open. Just like any normal human being, you dust yourself off, instantly hoping that Jungkook inside the shop hadn't seen you fail at something so basic as walking. You had carried some of the items you two had bought into the car while also returning the shopping cart while he had payed- and by the look on his face, he had definitely seen you.

He wasn't laughing, or hiding his grin, or anything alike. He looked concerned, taking his card back from the cashier before walking out the store, jogging towards you, who sat in the open trunk, ready to get laughed at. Even though somewhere deep in your mind you didn't think he would, past experiences had led to you now having that fear, no matter with whom. "Are you okay?" Jungkook asks, looking at you as he squats down to take a look at your bleeding knees. He reaches into one of the shopping bags, taking out a water bottle and a pack of tissues, before he wets it, one hand holding your leg by the backside of your knee, while the other carefully cleans the small wound. "You gotta be careful Baby." He chuckles a little- nothing like the laughter you had expected.

"I'm fine." You say, not looking up at him.

"It's okay to cry, you know?" He says, and you stay quiet, trying not to breathe too much as you desperately hold them back. "I won't laugh." He promises, deciding not to look at you as to give you a bit more space.

"People will stare though.." You quietly murmur towards him, and he finishes his job, before he goes to throw the now used tissue away in a nearby trashcan. When he returns, he's taking his jacket off, the item way too large on your form as he throws it over you, pulling the hood up as you look at him for the first time since your little accident, eyes sparkling with unshed tears when he pulls the sides of the hood towards him a little. "There." He says, a reassuring smile on his face. "Now no one can see you but me." He tells you. "And I will never, ever, laugh at you." He promises, and pulls your head against his chest, as you start to let go.

He really hates to see you cry- but he's glad that you're letting him in enough to let him see you this way.

Jungkook is frustrated.

He tries not to really show it, because he doesn't want to blow up in your face like that, but then again, you're kind of the reason he feels the way he does. Because even though he thought you both had a genuine connection, you're yet to let him touch you.

And not just hugging and holding hands.

It's not that he's impatient- its because he knows you, at one point, wanted him that way as well. But something happened, something he didn't notice, that made you take ten steps backwards from him. You seemed to be retreating, giving up, and he has no idea what he had done to make you react that way.

As far as he knows, he had done everything right.

But then he sees them; the messages sent back and forth between you and Hana, a returning customer at the shop- well known to flirt with everyone around here. Jungkook himself had actually considered hooking up with her once a year back, simply to make her shut up, but then again, he wasn't into one-night-stands. And she had never truly been his type anyways.

'Ah yeah, just re-schedule that then, I don't mind at all! Just make sure we have enough time together, since we haven't had time to catch up on things recently, if you know what I mean.' She had sent, a week ago; exactly the timeframe you had started to distance yourself. He knew he shouldn't look into it, but then again- this was his business too. He had the right to know.

'Sure? I can give you an appointment at around 4 PM then, so you'll be the last one. Would that be okay with you? Again, sorry for re-scheduling on such short notice.' You had written, and Jungkook can't decide if you had been oblivious to her implication (which was bullshit), or if you were simply too polite to call her out. But it's the next messages that make him fume.

'Again, no troubles. As I said, I only care that its Jungkookie, I don't really trust anyone else with my body that way ;). 4 PM is perfect, you guys still close at around 6 PM right? He's got skilled hands, I'm sure we don't need much more time, if you know what I mean.' she has the audacity to write.

But its your answer that makes him fume.

'Good to know.'

"Jungkook?" You say, looking at the screen, as you suddenly dash forwards, trying to shut the screen off- as if that would make any difference. But he catches your wrist with ease, holding it in his palm as he looks at you.

"Do you think I'm sleeping with her?" He asks, and you try to escape his grasp; and he lets you, staying at your workspace however as he keeps you locked in place with his gaze. "Y/N." He urges, making you look away from him.

"It's none of my business." You say, shrugging. "I.. No, it's-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"No, finish that sentence. 'No' what?" He says, and you've never heard him talk like that.

"I just.. didn't think you'd.. do that." You meekly say, murmuring it as he tilts your head gently upwards to look at him; his face now more relaxed as he softly smiles.

"That's good that you think that way." He tells you. "Because I don't do that at all." He says. "She likes to start drama all the time- was probably bitter I turned her down so much. You know what?" He suddenly says, turning towards the screen as he clicks to change the account, opening his own Inbox as he starts to write an E-Mail.

'Appointment is cancelled, be glad I'm not suing you for defamation. JK.'

"Jungkook-" You say, trying to get him not to send it- but it's already gone. "Why would you do that? Just because I misunderstood?" You whine, and he chuckles, shutting down the system as he looks at the clock, signaling that it's closing time.

"No." He says. "But because I don't want her around anyways, and this gives me a proper reason." He tells you, ruffling your hair as he looks at you. "You coming?" He asks, and you nod, taking your bag and coat before following him out the shop.

In the car, you finally speak up. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums out a reply. "Do you.. think I'm attractive?" You ask, and he clears his throat at the unexpected question.

"I- what?" He asks, unsure what you mean.

"Just.. Namjoon said, that he thinks you.. see me as a friend only? Because I'm nothing like the girls you dated before.. If I misunderstood something here then Oh my god-" You start to ramble, and Jungkook laughs suddenly.

"You think I'm not into you?" He asks, and you shrug. "Of course I want to fuck you doll." He casually comments, and you can't help but feel your cheeks redden. "Wait- did you really think I didn't?" He asks, face showing genuine horror as he looks over at you.

"I mean.. you never really initiated anything so I thought.." You started, and he groans out.

Thank god you're staying the night.

"Looks so pretty, does it?" He hums out, palm running over the tattoo on your thigh, delicate lines and well-placed shadings complimenting the colors perfectly. "You know why I love it most?" He starts, hand suddenly gripping the flesh for a moment, before he pulls you closer on his lap by the small of your back. "Because that's mine." He says, before he leans in, placing an open mouthed kiss against your pulse. "The ink that's under your skin, the design, the idea-" He mumbles against your skin. "And the body it's drawn on." You whine at his tone, dark and low, as he urges you back and forth on his clothed thigh- your panties suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Isn't it like that, baby?" He asks, and you nod, furiously, and he chuckles. "Hm, you seem out of breath baby.." He grins at you, like a predator.

"Jungkook.." You whine, not knowing what you're asking for.

He wordlessly moves, helping you lay down on his bed before he crawls over you, his lips instantly attached to the skin of your neck, hands helping you out of your dress wordlessly, as he can't help but let his gaze linger on your body for a moment. "I can't believe that-" He says, pulling off your overknee socks. "-you'd ever think of yourself anything less than perfect." He says, placing a gentle kiss to the colorful image now forever placed under your skin by his skilled hands. He continues to display his affection over your skin, wandering over your stomach up to your chest, where he playfully bites just above your breast. He struggles with the front of your bra for a second, unsure how to open the undergarment without breaking it, as you help a little; letting them spring free. But only for a moment.

Because in the next, he's got them in his hands, palms gently moving over them, feeling their softness as he groans. "You're so sweet." he comments, as he finally kisses your lips, smile interrupting him every now and then. "So soft." Another kiss. "So delicate." Another one. "And all mine, yeah?" He asks, and you nod, smiling as he grins back, the expression making him look so young and carefree you can't help but wonder how anyone could ever think he's a bad man.

He's anything but.

He's so careful touching you, so delicate in moving his palms over your skin, as if its the most divine thing he's ever felt. He's still smiling, as if in a trance, while he can't stop kissing you. Your hands move into his hair- way softer than you thought it would be, and he groans into your mouth at the feeling of your fingers running over his scalp.

There's no urgency in anything he does.

He slowly moves again, hands opening your legs for him as he sits back on his heels, playfully pulling you closer by the backs of your knees, making you giggle. "You sound so sweet baby." He tells you, innocently, as if he's not currently placing his hand onto your center, ring finger collecting your already leaking wetness before he spreads it, moving his thumb over your most sensitive bundle of nerves while his ring finger enters you slowly. You whine at the feeling, not enough to get you as riled up as you'd like to be. Also; this is the first time you're genuinely experiencing foreplay. You don't know what to do- and Jungkook seems to pick up on that. "You good?" He asks, and you nod.

"I.." You say, breathless as he tilts his head, smile still present on his lips. "What should I do?" You ask, as his eyes widen.

"You?" He wonders, before he stops for a moment. "Don't tell me- this is your first time?" He asks, now genuinely worried he might've gone too fast.

"No.." You admit. "But uhm.. no one's ever, like.. you know, what you're doing.." You say, and that's when it clicks for him.

What kind of guys did you date before him that never gave you any attention like this? He's upset by it, but also weirdly cheered on by that simple fact; it gives him even more reason to make sure you'll get the most out of it. "Ah, I see.." He humms out, letting another finger stretch your entrance for him. "..well, I'm not like that." He explains, before he moves, face now close to your center- and you're unsure what he's going to do. "Trust me." He says, mumbles out, before his tongue places itself flat onto your clit, licking painfully slow as you move your hands over your mouth, trying to keep your noises in. "nuh-uh baby." He scolds, free hand pulling yours away. "Let me hear you." He demands, before he places his mouth back where it was.

Your mind is completely blank at this moment, the only thing you can really concentrate on being Jungkook, working you up so quickly you feel dizzy. It's new, and it's a little weird- but it's more than anything you've ever experienced before. And it brings you towards your end so suddenly you suddenly gasp out, back arching off the mattress as you grab at the sheets below, one hand grasping for Jungkooks, who lets you ride out your high to its fullest. "So pretty." He comments after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling at your blissed out state.

"Kook-" You say, moving as you sit up, less shy now that your brain is still clouded by pleasure.

"Ah- you don't have to." He tells you, but you shake your head, and he lets you. He slips out of his clothes, finally bare, and you would've taken time to look at all the different pieces of art decorating his body- if it wasn't for his cock, red and ready in front of you. Usually, you would've let your insecurities and doubts get the best of you. But this was Jungkook. And you wanted to really believe that nothing you would do could ever be judged by him. So there was no hesitation as your hands reached out for him, gently moving, before you took him in, your lips wrapping themselves around his tip, before you moved downwards, fitting as much as you comfortably could. Meanwhile, Jungkook himself was steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, while the other was buried into your hair, his own head thrown back as he closed his eyes.

Of course he had fantasized about this every now and then; but he had never thought you'd actually be comfortable doing it. And even if- nothing he could've imagined would've ever compared to the real deal happening. There was something absolutely mindblowing about the way that you handled him, your sweet and pretty presence looking so divine doing such a sinful act with him. He had to pull you off by your hair, gently, because any more, and he would've been a goner. "G-Good god baby." He chuckles, pushing you a bit so you were on your back again, reaching for his bedside table to search for a condom. "I swear to god if I- HAH!" He tells you in victory, hands making quick work of opening the foil package and wrapping the safety over his length. "I swear I would've run out butt naked to buy one if I wouldn't have found this." He says with a grin, making you laugh.

"That's weird." You comment, and he chuckles, entering you slowly as to not hurt you, his breathing labored as he still kept the lighthearted energy going.

"You think?" He asks, and you nod, giggling as your eyes close, the feeling of him filling you up too good to keep them open. "Hm no." He said breathlessly. "Would've probably put on some pants maybe." He says, before he starts thrusting. "Doesn't matter if it means I'd get to fuck you." He says, and you giggle again.

"Kook!" You scold him, and he still continues to thrust into you, exhaling forcefully as he kisses your neck.

"What?" He whines high pitched as if to imitate you.

"Be serious!" You tell him, but can't help your own smile either.

"Oh, why though?" He says. "We're making love, not war baby." He whispers into your ear, and you still laugh at it.

"I can't believe you!" You complain playfully, moaning out when he suddenly thrusts with more force, obscene noises now interrupting you two as he picks up his pace, clenching his jaw.

"And-" He starts. "I can't believe how fucking good you feel." He presses out, hand now reaching between the two of you as he brings you towards an earth-shattering orgasm, making you mewl as you can feel yourself bursting. "Good girl!" He praises, watching as you squirt all over him, his own orgasm hitting him soon after as he grunts out, finally slowing down until he stills completely, his mouth attached to your neck to place gentle kisses and teasing bites near your pulse point.

"I love you." He mumbles out, and your eyes sting.

Because yeah, you love him- you absolutely do, but hearing it from him, hearing it in such an honest and warm-hearted tone, having this final proof of his own feelings towards you, makes you emotional. "Baby, why're you crying?" He chuckles out of breath, wiping your tears as you smile, and finally look at him with glossy eyes.

"Cause I love you too." You say. "So much."

And he can't help but grin at you.

You really are the sweetest thing.

You watch as Hana walks out of Taehyungs studio, arm wrapped up in clear foil as she walks towards your counter, pulling out her purse. "Taehyung agreed on 345." She says, until Taehyung yells another number out of his studio, making her eyes roll. She wasn't supposed to come back- but Taehyung had agreed to finish her piece at least. "Alright, here you go." She says, watching as you counted the money. "Does Jungkook work today?" She asks, and you nod. "I'm just gonna go say hi then. You can finish the receipt yeah?" She says overly sweet, and you're about to tell her that Jungkook doesn't want anyone entering without his permission, but he's already walking out his studio, black sweater and silver necklaces on full display as he walks towards you. "Jungkookie!" Hana exclaims, but her face drops almost chomically as she watches Jungkook walk up behind you, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder as he looks over it onto your screen.

"Oh, looks like I'm done for the day. You need anything Hana?" He asks innocently, one hand on your desk while the other rests on your chair behind your back.

"I- just wanted to apologize for uhm.. the emails. I didn't know you'd read them." She says, and you slowly close all programs, while Jungkooks humms out something.

"Yeah, I figured." He says, before he shakes his head. "As I said, I'm letting it go. No hard feelings." He says, shrugging, before he walks towards his studio again, stopping in his tracks for a second. "Ah, baby, can you text Jin-Hyung and ask him if we can come now? I'm actually starving I swear." He says, and you nod with red cheeks, pulling out your phone.

"Huh." Comes from Hana, as she takes the receipt from you. "I honestly.. would've never thought." She mumbles, before she simply leaves, without any more words.

Yeah. You would've honestly never thought either.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi.com/bonnykookoo. Thank you for reading.

[resinatingbeauty]

Everything You Need To Know About UV Resin

I thought I would make this post because of how much Amazon pesters me to answer questions regarding UV resin and I know many of you were able to learn and benefit from my other craft posts which focused more on epoxy. Today I'm going to cover all the things I have learned using UV resin, which is something I use almost exclusively for many of the items you see in my Etsy shop.

What is UV resin?

UV resins are photochemicals that react to different wavelengths of UV (sunlight) to cure. This allows for a much shorter cure time and longer work time than epoxy resin, as UV resin will not begin to cure / harden until it is exposed to UV light. In the photos above, you can see the two main types/brands of UV resin I typically use for the creation of my projects, Solarez and Limino, both of which can be purchased on Amazon (Solarez has its own website, but shipping is not free though Amazon only has some of their products). While Solarez is known for surfboard creation and repair, boat repair, etc. It is one of the few UV resins that can be used to create larger projects such as these Fairy Garden Jars you see below.

Normally, however, UV resin is used for smaller projects - jewelry, coating, small casts, and the like. It is practically the same chemical combo found in UV nail polish. These chemicals may be triggered to harden using the same UV lamps one would see at a nail salon, though not all UV lamps or torches cover the full spectrum of UV wavelengths as sunlight (more on this later). I rely on UV resin for the creation of my popular rune sets, as they require more detail and time to fully create than the 30-45 minute work time one typically has with epoxy. Below are some examples of items I have in the shop made primarily with UV resin.

UV resins are typically non toxic and are not harmful to the environment when cured or uncured. The resin itself shares similar properties to epoxy but can have a much lower viscosity in general, making it more ideal for casting and coating than doming. UV resin does give off an odor when curing (Solarez is the WORST even when not curing), much more so than epoxy.

Pros & Cons of UV resin

Pros:

No mixing. UV resins are ready to go from the bottle.

Longer work time, shorter cure time. Great for making multiple projects at once or highly detailed, smaller projects. UV resin fully cures in approx 5 mins in full sunlight.

Great for clear casts and adding a glossy finish to any project.

Bonds to metal, wood, plastic, etc. Making it great for quick fixes.

Most are self degassing and self leveling.

Easier to handle. No component mixing means you can't possibly ruin your project from the get go.

Accepts most Inclusions / pigments one would use with epoxy

Waterproof when cured.

Cons:

Expensive. UV resin will average $65+ (for 1000g) USD for the equivalent of a 32oz epoxy combo for $20+. Solarez is on the cheaper side, but harder to work with.

Fickle. UV resin will produce bubbles that don't want to surface, must be used in very thin layers, prone to shrinkage, and cannot cure if using opaque or dense Inclusions or pigments.

Can only be used with clear silicone molds. Plastic molds tend to adhere / melt to UV resin. Solarez may be used with an MEKP catalyst to get around this, but not foolproof.

May only be used for small projects.

Must purchase UV lamp / torch to cure, but some only cure with certain wavelengths or sunlight itself. Can over cure and become brittle or undercure and be tacky.

Even clear but detailed molds may not cure correctly.

So, you may notice there are more cons than there are pros when it comes to UV resin. This is absolutely true- for cost effectiveness alone, unless you are looking to mass produce something or need more potability / work time for your project (as I do), I recommend avoiding UV resin and going with epoxy which will usually even yield better overall results.

If you DO decide to try UV resin or have tried UV resin, you may run into a few problems initially that will cause you to trash projects and become frustrated. Never curing resin is a popular complaint, this next portion of this post is entirely dedicated to troubleshooting UV resin in order to better help you achieve the results you are looking for.

Using & Troubleshooting

There are many different brands of UV Resin available. Save for Solarez, the ones that come in the big or small tubes like the Limino resin shown (I've used brands Miraclekoo, Decoroom, DIY, Let's Resin, Solarez, SooKoo, and Limino) are pretty much the same product selling for around the same price per milligram / fluid oz. They all have about the same viscosity and will generally yield the same results and have the same average cure time.

Note: Solarez is more of a polyester based resin or can be acrylic based depending on which of their products you purchase. It has a very strong odor and is more liquid than these others. It is also fairly cheaper (Almost half the price) and can be purchased in larger quantities. Unfortunately, even though the price tag is enticing, I really don't recommend it. It is very fickle with the UV wavelengths used to cure it. If you are trying to do any indoor project using a UV torch or lamp, you are going to want to even then drop an extra $20-$60 on a multi spectrum UV lamp to cure your project. You will find that you have to intermittently expose the resin to light or it gets an orange peel/puckered texture- sometimes the light will even literally burn right through your project. It can even burn or damage your mold, as Solarez gets very hot when curing even though it is formulated to not get as hot or combust when using UV light to cure, which is something, I guess.

However, Solarez can be used with an MEKP catalyst, allowing you to dual cure it using sunlight / UV light. This allows Solarez to be used with opaque pigments and can be used for larger projects. The catalyst was not initially included with the resin, but the manufacturer began including it for some reason. The ratio is 6 drops of MEKP mixed into 1 fluid ounce of Solarez. 6:1. With the MEKP catalyst, your project will fully cure in 30 mins (using sunlight or UV light to help it along) but it is prone to becoming overheated, still requiring small layers to be cured one at a time to avoid combustion.

If you're going to try UV resin, I recommend trying any of the brands above, save for Solarez. Grab a 50-120g bottle to try and see if you like it. I recommend beginning making something simple like a pendant or earrings using a clear silicone mold or open back bezel. Mica pigments and most alcohol inks will work with UV resin the same way they work with epoxy and UV resin also creates a super clear glossy finish that may be used to gloss and spruce up cured epoxy projects.

So you took the dive and purchased your UV resin? You've got problems? Yea, tell me about it.

•My Project is Super Tacky! What do?

This is common and will vary from product to product, but usually isn't the product. So before you go flaming the foreign manufacturer who doesn't understand you anyway, ask yourself the following and try these methods to solve the inevitable tacky problem:

How long did you cure? The average cure time shown on the bottle is just that, an average. This doesn't mean that your project will cure in five minutes under your UV lamp. Not all UV lamps are made equal. For starters, check the packaging, but most UV resins require your lamp to be 36w+, so write that off immediately. If your lamp is producing less wattage, than it's not going to cure your UV resin. If you're using a lamp that is 36w+ or your UV resin claims to cure under 36w, then take a look at your lamp itself. Most nail salon UV lamps are either table shaped or dome/cave shaped. If you're using a table shaped lamp on a 3D mold / project, the light is unable to penetrate the sides and back of the mold. This style lamp will only work to cure projects in open back bezels or free hand, flat coatings. If using a dome shaped lamp then the majority of the UV light is found at the back of the lamp. If you have your project at the front or sides, it is unable to be fully penetrated by UV light at all angles.

Try turning your project,curing it for a minimum of 5 minutes on each side. Using finger cots, remove your project and let it cure free form. It shouldn't be so tacky that it sticks to your work area at this point, but if it is, then there is only one solution:

Let it cure in actual sunlight for 10-20 minutes, turning it so that every angle sees light. Typically, your UV lamp doesn't offer the same UV light wavelengths as pure sunlight, and you can buy new lamps or torches to test, but sunlight is free.

If your project is still tacky after all these measures, you've tried adding a new layer of clear resin to it and allowing it to cure in sunlight.

If this doesn't work, think about your Inclusions, your glitter, your pigments etc. If your project is nearly opaque, then you'll need to tone it down if you're going to use UV resin.

If NOTHING else, your product may indeed be a dud or became contaminated in some way. Unfortunately, it's not always easy to get in touch with the manufacturer, but if you order your product from Amazon, they'll more than likely allow you to return it.

My project is all bubbly? What do?

Bubbles are always a problem, whether you're using UV resin or epoxy. Little tiny bubbles always form, especially around the edges of the mold or embedded within details in the design. Don't forget, you have infinite work time with UV resin. This means that you have as long as you want to work out the bubbles.

Use a toothpick to pop tiny bubbles at the bottom of the mold or dislodge them to bring to the surface. Be careful though because you don't want to leave little scratches on your mold or puncture it.

Use a torch to pop bubbles on the surface. A grill lighter, regular lighter, or whatever will do the trick. Make sure you hold the flame a good inch or so away from the surface. It will catch fire and your mold possibly will too. Do so carefully! I run the torch across the top layer every time I add something to the resin to remove any bubbles it gives off. This also works for epoxy.

Blow on it. Some people claim the heat of your breath will pop surface bubbles, but I have had no success with this method.

Warm your resin. Stick your UV resin in a plastic bag or something air tight. Allow some water to heat to near boiling on the stove before pouring it over your resin bottle in a bowl or basin. Do not stick your resin in the microwave or oven or anything crazy.

Stir slowly. Stir inclusions like glitter and pigments slowly, scraping the sides and bottom. This will prevent air bubbles kicking up into your mix and oxygen being introduced into your pour.

Try pigments. For some weird reason (most likely due to changes in viscosity), resin projects with pigments, glitter, and the like have less tendency toward bubbling than clear casts.

Are your bubbles huge? This may be because your pouring super thick layers of resin and all sides have not cured properly. Your layers should only be 1mm thickness maximum when using UV resin.

My project has come out warped, not even, has divots , etc.

If you are curing your layers quickly, your project is heating. When you add more resin over top of this hot resin in a hot mold, this will not only cause more bubbles but also lend to shrinkage. Allow your project to cool to room temp and have some downtime between curing. This will also protect your molds that will become damaged from overuse / overheating and cooling.

With Solarez, this is key to having a beautiful project at the end of the day. Even though it is formulated to not overheat if exposed to sunlight, Solarez will get this orange peel like texture on the surface layer if overexposed.

Yes, there is such thing as overcuring as well, and it will make your project brittle and even flakey, but this is normally not the biggest complaint with UV resin.

So why even buy UV resin?

UV resin has its perks. In a pinch, it makes for a clear, glossy finish that will cure / harden quickly in the sun or with a UV lamp that one would be waiting 24-48 hours for with epoxy. It can be used to repair epoxy projects and fill small divots as well as the ability to bond to pretty much anything makes it useful to have around. It is convenient to use due to the fact that you don't have to mix it, it is easy to pour and compatible with most inclusions. It is also ideal for its extended work time as it will not cure until exposed to UV light. This allows you to create highly detailed clear cast jewelry and other projects you wouldn't be able to assemble and detail before epoxy would begin to cure.

I hope this helps everyone who is having trouble with UV resins or those who have considered using UV resin as an alternative to epoxy. If you have any other questions you would like answered or are someone adept with UV resin that would like to share, please do so! Good luck!

~Samantha

Owner/ Designer/Creator blursedbaubles.etsy.com

[rosyfingereddawnn]

heart of gold (chapter three)

pairing: robert plant x florence bennett (oc)

warnings: domestic abuse (god sorry), jimmy bein’ a simp :)

words: 3.4k

summary: trapped in a loveless marriage to a powerful man, florence bennett lives every day in despair. after a chance encounter with a golden-haired actor, florence finds that her life will never be the same again.

author’s note: new oc alert!! this character was based off a little friend of mine... who’s helped me like. immensely. babe ily. also god this one hurt to write i'm sorry guys. hope you enjoy :)

chapters: 1 | 2

masterlist

playlist

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The waning light of the late afternoon sun filters in through the grand windows, stained glass painting the room a myriad of colours. Polished maple shelves line the walls, packed to the brim with dusty tomes. Comfortable armchairs sit around a side table, the gilded siding gleaming. On its surface sits a dainty teacup, still steaming.

Florence strides through the aisles of the library, trailing a finger along the worn spines. The lady of the house divides her time most often between the beautiful music room and the library, as Allen leaves her to her devices, most of the day. Running a city, he always says, takes a lot of work, dear. She’s not complaining at all, if it puts her at a difference from the barbarian she is lucky enough to call a husband.

Stopping, finally, she pulls a book from the shelf, running her fingers across the letters decorating the cover, fingers catching lightly on the grooves. ‘Wuthering Heights’, the cover reads, and Florence nods, content with her choice. Drifting across the room, she settles comfortably into the plush chairs, reaching a hand out to grasp the handle of the teacup beside her. Soft spice settles over her tongue, and her chest fills with warmth, the steaming beverage warding away the slight chill in the room. Cracking open the cover, her eyes drift over the slightly yellowed pages of the novel.

“I have just returned from a visit to my landlord—the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful country! In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society…”

The woman recites the words on the page, voice drifting high into the rafters as it flutters past her lips. Florence has always enjoyed reading aloud, as it made her feel as though she was not alone. That someone hears her, and cares to listen to the words that flow from her mouth. Allen hated it, in the beginning. When he had given her the time of day, and cared for her. Promises of forever tumbled from his lips then, instead of the insults and hurt that dripped, like a slow poison, from them now.

Shaking her head clear of those thoughts, she continues. An hour passes, then another, and Florence loses herself in the narrative. These characters, brutal and flawed, intrigued her. They enchanted her, and she was unable to put it down.

Until a set of heavy footsteps, thunderous against the polished floors, near the door to the library. She knows exactly who it is, spending as much time as she had training herself to recognize his gait. Shutting her novel with a loud snap, she looks around the room. Everything is in its place; the room is pristine, as always. Smoothing down her dress, a bright yellow with lace at the hem, she waits for the inevitable. The click of the door opening rings through the suffocating silence of the room, and Allen strolls in, perfect image maintained by his coiffed hair and expensive pinstripe suit.

“Florence, my dear. I knew I might find you here.”

“Allen, is there something wrong?” Florence replies, the hands that rest on her lap subtly trembling as she gazes at her husband. He seems to be in a good mood today. Florence only hopes it can stay that way.

“We will be putting on a ball in the coming weeks, to celebrate my proficiency as mayor. Now,” Allen slips closer to his wife, and brings a hand to her chin. Holding her in place, he presses closer, looking directly into her hazel eyes. “I hope I won’t need to reiterate this. Please do try and behave.”

“O-of course, Allen, I will—”

“We wouldn’t want a repeat performance of recent festivities, would we?”

His words make Florence’s blood boil. She sees the world in shades of angry red, and clenches her fists as tight as she can, hiding them from Allen’s view. Her knuckles are painted white with the strain of keeping her composure. A few weeks have passed since Allen rained pain and devastation upon his household, but the wounds both mental and physical are not so easily hidden, swept aside.

Pasting on an agreeable smile, cheeks straining with the effort, she nods her head. Florence knows that if she plays by his rules, she’ll remain unharmed. He’ll finally leave her alone.

“I will be on my best behaviour. Please, do not worry, dear.”

Allen tilts her head up further, to stare right into her eyes. Florence would love nothing more than to deal him the pain that he had dealt to her. To John, and to James. Instead, she raises her hand, laying it across Allen’s, as she gazes earnestly back. Touching him feels horrifyingly wrong, and it's as though fire laps at her palm.

“You will need a gown, no doubt.”

“I was planning to go into town with Ms. Weston. You remember, she—”

“I do not care who accompanies you. I care, darling, that you do not embarrass me,”  The man smiles at her, sharp canines glinting dangerously in the fading sunlight, and he presses his lips to her cheek. His scent, sharp and cloying, nauseates her. Allen stands up to his full height, which, admittedly, was not much, and moves for the door. Turning back to look at her once more, he takes her in almost hungrily. “I wonder, Florence, if you still look as lovely unclothed as you do in this dress. Perhaps tonight, we may find out?”

With a sneer and a chuckle, he walks out the door, closing it behind him.

Florence’s hands unclench, finally, as subtle pain rips through her palms. Gazing down at the skin of her hand, she sees deep pink crescents. One of them is streaked lightly with blood. She had broken the skin, it seems.

Trembling hands retrieve the book from the table it had been left on, and Florence opens the cover once more. Eyes drifting down to read, she can’t seem to make sense of the words, anymore. Florence is shaken, and she knows that it is precisely what Allen wants.

It is but a game for him; a battle of control. He’s winning.

---------

“You mean to tell me that he… Oh, Florence…”

The chime of nails against delicate china rings through the luxuriously decorated sitting room, as Florence passes a teacup, the steam wafting from the top following the scent of rich spices, to the woman sitting on the plush divan. Her dress, a pastel lavender, meets the floor in a stream of tulle. Dark tresses, pulled back in a small, loose braid, curl as they fall across her shoulders.

“Emma, I have no idea what to do.”

Emma Weston had known Florence longer than she could remember. They had met when they were young, and since then, they’ve been almost inseparable. That is, until Allen came along. Slowly, almost inch by inch, he had pushed Emma out of the picture, further isolating his wife. The women seemed to meet less and less over the years, now coming together a few times a month. Emma was unmarried, and rather educated, which almost seemed to scare the man. A favourite quote of his pops into Florence’s head, then: “Educated women, well, they’ll bring the downfall of humanity.” To the women, of course, it served as a nice bit of comedy.

“My dear friend, I… Is there anything I can do?” Emma lays a hand on Florence’s shoulder, earnest eyes locked on those of her friend. Florence meets her gaze then, and the glassy hazel eyes unnerve the woman. They look defeated. “Florence, we will fix this, somehow.”

“If that is possible…”

Emma shakes her head, eyes blazing with a incendiary anger she must keep hidden from the woman sitting next to her. Florence, naive as she might have been upon entering the relationship, has done nothing to warrant this treatment, this violence. Every mention of the horrors; the atrocities, that have been committed in this house makes the woman’s blood burn in her veins. Emma settles her hand over Florence’s, rubbing calming circles into it. She knows how the other woman ticks, after the years they’ve spent together, and she can see the slight tremors that pass through her. She’s scared. Why wouldn't she be, with a husband like that, Emma thinks.

“Florence,” The sentence almost tumbles out, but she catches herself. Florence has always disliked pity, felt that it was counterproductive and useless. It does nothing to help the situation, so there is no need for it. Emma changes the subject swiftly, a bright smile tilting up the corner of her painted lips. “What else have I missed? Surely you’ve gotten up to much, with your lovely husband gone so often.”

A moment of unusual silence passes, as a blush darkens Florence’s cheeks, pink shades dancing with the freckles that linger on her skin. “Well,” Florence starts, hands fidgeting in her lap as she looks anywhere but at her friend. With a fortifying sigh, she releases the words trapped in her throat. “I’ve… I’ve been writing to a man. An actor, from the theatre we frequent.”

“Oh? How long have the two of you been corresponding? Do tell me more!”

“A month, as of next weekend—”

“A month? Florence, it’s been a whole month, and you didn’t think it right to tell me? I thought we were friends… ”

“Emma,” Florence starts, scrambling to reassure her friend, until she glimpses the smirk that dangles from her lips. A relieved sigh fills the silence that had fallen over the two, and Emma’s giggle lights up the room. “You were joking…”

“Of course I was! Now, tell me more about this mysterious actor. What do you know of him?”

“Well, I do not know his name, unfortunately. This… this is my fault. If he knew who I was; if he knew Allen, he would never give me the time of day. Emma, he is beautiful, of mind, body, and soul.”

“How do you mean?”

“It was his appearance, initially, that attracted me. He was simply irresistible,” Florence’s cheeks flush deep scarlet, as an unconscious smile blossoms across her cheeks. Her hands slash through the air as she recounts her first sighting of the elusive actor. “…James and John, thankfully, had the mind to encourage me to contact him. Emma, he is poetic and charming, yet he isn't haughty in the slightest, like some who share these traits. He’s always been perfectly kind, and charisma drips from every pore. Every letter I receive from him… Goodness, Emma, it has the same effect on me that his performance had.”

“Perhaps you should invite him to the ball.”

It was a simple statement, yet those 8 words ring like sirens in Florence’s head. Her blush deepens, and she stammers out a response, nervous hands smoothing down nonexistent wrinkles on her gown. With a deep breath, she recovers, and locks eyes with Emma, who hides a smile behind a dainty hand.

“Have you gone completely mad?”

“Think about it,” Emma starts, revealing the amused smile that she had tried to hide. Taking in the way Florence’s mouth hangs open in shock, her eyes wider than saucers, Emma continues, a giggle fluttering in the air of the expensive room. “You could slip away from the other patrons, somewhere Allen would never find you, and meet the man that stole your heart.”

Florence remains frozen, as though she were a component of a still-life painting. Her blush-pink lips form an O, and her eyebrows creep close to her hairline. Her hands, the only thing in motion, are a flurry of movement as she fidgets under Emma’s watchful gaze.

“Florence, honestly, is it truly that preposterous of an idea?”

“O-of course it is! Emma,” The woman of the house shakes her head emphatically, mind racing to come up with the perfect excuse as to why this idea, although tempting, was utterly absurd. “Look, if Allen ever… I could never subject this… this angel to that.”

“If you think it’s best not to, then I will stand with you. This is, of course, common knowledge. What I will never do, however, is sit idly by and watch you throw away your happiness, again.”

Silence sits heavy over the two women, the only sound being the light slurping of tea gone cold. Emma, chancing a glance over at her long-time friend, takes in the quiver and shake of her hand. Florence sets the fragile china cup, painted a pale sky blue, on the wooden surface of the table that rests in front of them, and relaxes back into the comfortable settee.

“Is… Is James able to attend? The ball, I mean.” The relative quiet is broken by Emma, voice faltering as she curls into herself. For as long as Florence could remember, Emma has only had eyes for James. Whenever she came to the manor, her eyes would roam the chiseled marble hallways for even a short glimpse of him, and a deep blush seemed to dust her cheeks whenever he was in the room.

“I believe he and John are working that particular night, although… perhaps you could steal him away for some time alone?”

“Florence!”

The peals of laughter that fill the room muffle the hurried footsteps fast approaching, a choked gasp and the sound of falling papers finally making the two women look up. James stands by the door, shoulders hunched as he locks eyes with Emma across the room. A collection of envelopes litter the floor, and James, scrambling to his knees with a squeak, rushes to retrieve them.

A wordless glance passes between the two friends, and Florence nods, a subtle smile lighting up her face. Emma stands, flattening down her dress with clammy hands, walks up to the man, and he looks up at her under his eyelashes, hands stilled by her appearance.

“E-Emma! H-hello, I…”

“James, your face… are you alright?”

The man nods emphatically, almost thrumming with nerves as he replies, “it was nothing, Emma. You need not worry for me.”

Her hand, palm up, rests upon his cheek as she takes in the bruising, subtle now after the days that have passed, that mottles his pale skin. Florence can almost hear the rapid beating of his heart as he gazes up at her from his position on the floor.

“I can't help my worry for you, James,” Clearing her throat awkwardly, Emma shifts her gaze to the tiled floor, her eyes widening when she glances at the stationary strewn across the ground.“May I… or rather… Do you need help?”

The servant gulps audibly, and nods, cheeks an angry scarlet to compliment the fading tones of purple. The woman kneels next to him, and retrieves the fallen letters. Glancing at it briefly, her eyes light up excitedly, as she gazes at James.

“Are these invitations for the ball?”

“They are. I was to go around the town handing them out, just now.”

Two hands brush as they reach for the last envelope, and pull back, as if electricity had struck them upon contact. Florence hides a beaming smile beneath her hand as she watches her friends. They simply cannot look away from each other. James coughs, breaking the tension that had settled over the two, and they scramble back, each holding a portion of the letters. Two piles become one, and Emma steps back, the hand rubbing at her arm betraying the picture of calm she was trying to emulate.

“M-Miss Weston, always a pleasure. How are you?”

“I-I am well, James. And you?”

“Very well. May I say, you look… lovely.” The conversation peters out as their gazes flit to the ground, and Florence, from her perch behind them, can’t help but giggle. The sound propels the servant into action, and he thrusts an envelope into Emma’s hand, backing away as if he was burned by the feel of her hand on his.

“I was supposed to stop at your residence, but since you are already here…”

With that, he turns tail and rushes out of the room, leaving Emma standing, slack-jawed. Slowly, she turns around to meet Florence’s eyes, and the disbelief present on her face is almost comical.

“Perhaps you will be the one to slip away for a moonlit dance in the end, Emma.”

With well wishes, and an earnest promise to find dresses for the ball, Emma departs, stepping into her own carriage. The flush on her cheeks was still visible.

---------

“Of all the times to run out… Just my luck.”

Soft footsteps spatter like rain across the staircase, as Florence mutters to herself. Dashing into her bedroom, she searches every nook and cranny, pulling back with a grunt dripping with frustration. The supply that had sat on the desk against the wall was usurped, and there were no traces of any sheets in the rest of the mansion’s many rooms. Except for one.

Rushing across the hall, Florence stops in front of a pinewood door, intricately carved as most things within the manor happen to be.

Allen’s study, as she’s been told time and time again, was never to be entered, by anyone except the man himself. It’s rarely ever locked, though his intimidation serves as enough of a barrier from entering, until today.

All she needs is paper, after all. About to pen yet another letter to her nameless angel, she lacked the most important element: the paper itself. Where better to find a much-needed slip, than in a study, Florence thinks as she turns the gold-gilded knob. She opens the door only to be greeted with beautiful, wide windows of stained glass, which turn the sunlight into vibrant shades of red and green. Against the wall, a bookshelf stands tall, books of every genre imaginable lining it. Against the far wall, a well-polished mahogany desk, complete with winding embellishments around the edge, sits before an elegant leather armchair.

No paper in sight, of course.

A sigh reverberates off of the maroon walls, as Florence pulls open a drawer, careful to leave things as proper as possible so as to not alert Allen. Shuffling through the first, she finds a variety of legal forms and journals, and her frustration simmers inside of her. Moving on to the second drawer, she tugs on the wood-furnished handle, and her heart shatters.

Sitting prim and proper, face up in the drawer, was a letter addressed to Allen. In a curling script that, distinctly, was not hers, reads: “To my beloved, Allen.” This one note, this blasted letter, lays on a bed of dozens of others, all addressed in the same way, in the same sprawling hand. Florence can feel streams of crystalline tears trickle down the flaming apple of her cheeks, and a violent scream catches in her throat. Her insides burn in rage, in fury, in betrayal, and if not for her grip on the desk, she would have crumpled to the floor. There were no dates printed upon the envelopes, though, judging by the sheer amount, it is safe to say that this had been going on for quite a while. Long before she had laid eyes upon her actor.

Under the pile of deceitful notes, almost mocking her, sat the coveted paper. Ripping it out of the drawer, Florence turns, eyes sweeping the room for anything out of the ordinary. Seeing perfection, she tears out of the room, crossing the hall into her chambers. She sits herself down, defeated, on the chair adjacent to the small desk. Her head falls forward into her palms, resting there until, suddenly, she slams a hand down onto the lacquered tabletop.

Allen Bennett has stolen her livelihood. He has stolen her happiness; stolen everything that he saw worth taking. Greed seeps from every pore, and there are no consequences. Allen Bennett is a foul, demonic man, and Florence must play the role of the angel. The perfect wife. She must act as Allen’s toy, only of use to him when he needs a night of pleasure.

Curling her hands into rigid fists, the woman nods resolutely, and lunges across the desk. Trusty fountain pen in a clenched hand, Florence seizes the newfound sheets, and soon enough, a river of ink flows across the page. Teardrops that trickle down the slope of her nose serve as the signature.

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taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages @kyunisixx @sophiazeppelinchick @reincarnated70sbaby @grxtsch @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @thebeatlesuniverse @dreamersdrowse (let me know if you want to be added!)

[lilyharvord]

The Chain (Part 11)

Hello Darlings, it’s been a long time coming, but here is the next part of The Chain. (: Please know that there is a little bit of forcing in this chapter to make things work, but its called a plot hole, not a plot no (((: Also, she is nice and long for you guys since it has been sometime since she got some TLC. 

I’ve got two words for you all: Time Travel.

Main concept: Two love struck idiots get sent back to a pretty UGH time period in their lives (that required me to reread all the books again) and have to hide the fact that they know everything. Stupidity ensues.

Enjoy

Find the rest of the fic here: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

tag list:  @delilahlbard, @king-maven-calore, @thatoddgirl777, @elliekratzzz, @evangelineartemiasamos, @evangeline-of-montfort, @scxrletguardsdawn, @freaky-freiday, @petergrantkavinsky, @kuwei, @whatsup-gorls, @katiemoore,  @redqueenetwork, @tranquil-dusk (I’m trying to add you but for some reason it wont @... the same problem happens with @thatoddgirl777 and I have no idea how to fix it)

(/Mare/)

The barge glides through the murky water of the river and beyond the polished silver railing I rest my hand on, the shore of the Stilts rolls by like a faded oil painting. Ahead of me, hanging over the water, is an old tree Bree once dared me to crawl out on. The branches skim the water like skeletal fingers. I curl my own fingers around the railing in response to the memory of Bree’s laugh. I hope I get to hear it again, echoing in my parent’s town home. 

           The footsteps behind me are too light to be Cal. Even with all the work he has done to learn subterfuge, he is still a large human being. He’ll never be very good at sneaking up on anyone. I force an inhale when warm air washes over my side though. 

           Maven rests his forearms on the railing to watch the Stilts with me, his jaw tight and his eyes dark. I didn’t see him earlier today before we cast off, and I made sure he had no reason to speak with me now. I left nothing in those cells when I rescued Farley, not even a dusting of blood for Elara to use against me. Whatever he has come to discuss, it will define every point from now until the end.

           “Have you heard of the chess move known as the King’s Snare?” His voice is softer than I thought it would be, given how hard the planes of his face are.

           I glance at him warily, chewing on a response. I don’t want to talk to him about chess. I know he’s a master of it, that in all the years they played, Cal never beat him. Cal, the future general and war strategist who could throw together a plan in minutes with nothing but a handful of Reds, Ardents, and Silvers, never beat the boy before me. I don’t know why I think I have a hope of beat him or Elara.

           “No. I don’t play chess.” I murmur letting the wind shift the loose hairs hanging by my cheeks. It plays in his curls too, tussling them like a loving hand.

           The corner of his lips quirk up in a ghost of a smile before he turns to face me. He doesn’t flinch from my gaze, but that smile does fall. Pressing off the railing to stand at his full height, he tilts his head to the side as if in thought. “It’s a complex maneuver, and requires turns upon turns of preparation. It is the only strategy you can play once you initiate it. In each step, you make it appear as if you are losing. You let your opponent think they have won, and in the final step of preparation, you let your queen be taken and your king be cornered in a check mate.”

He shrugs before looking back onto the bank. His eyes sweep along the shacks on their tottering stilts. “Then, you take the opposing king with the only piece you have left. A pawn.”

           I raise a brow at it before saying, “sounds complicated. I don’t have the patience for playing the long game, and I especially don’t like playing with people’s lives like they are pieces in my game.”

           A fire lights in his eyes as he drags them over me, his expression hardening again. “I’m not so sure that’s the truth.”

           His words are a warning in and of themselves. Squaring my shoulders to him and stabbing my nails into my palms, I purse my lips in a line to swallow my retort. We stand in a stalemate for a moment before he reaches a finger out to let a strand of my hair curl around it. His expression crumbles for just a moment before that mask slides up and hides the wounded boy underneath.

           “Let’s not play this game Mare.” He bows his head and his lips almost ghost over my brow. I turn my head to the side to avoid the touch.

           “I just told you I’m not playing games.”

           His chuckle is humorless. With a quick step he closes the space between us completely and I have to crane my neck to meet his eye. 

           “You’re still useful to me and mother, but Cal has overstayed his welcome by a few years. His whole life actually, if I’m being perfectly honest.”

           No more dancing around it then, we are going full in with the truth. I twist my lips to the side, letting my sneer finally grace my features. “If you think for one second I’m going to let you two get away with what you did a second time, you’re wrong.”

           “Even if it means you lose everything you have coming?” He asks me that as if he actually cares. It makes me reel back while he smiles like a wolf. “We know Mare, and while it’s adorable watching you attempt to play against us, you played your final card last night.”

           My lightning dances on my fingertips. What I wouldn’t give for Tyton’s brain lightning, so that I could turn Maven’s insides into jelly and leave him on this deck before going after Elara. I should have ended all of this weeks ago. I could have, I know that for a fact. 

           “I haven’t played any of my cards yet.” I warm Maven with a raised chin. I let the mask of Mareena disappear and I let him see Mare Barrow, the girl who bested two kings, the woman who has seen more than enough front lines, and who was born in a storm on top of a mountain. She has been broken and put back together so many times that she knows every piece of herself better than she ever did before. She thrives in storms and turns them to her will like this boy turns words to his.

           “You haven’t seen anything Maven. Don’t for one second think you have cornered me.” My lips curl into a small smile as I look him over with a critical eye. “Besides, while you’re playing chess, I am playing another game entirely.”

           A muscle in his jaw flutters when I speak, and his eyes darken further.

           Pressing to my toes, I let my next words caress his lips like a kiss. “And if you two do know everything, I’m surprised you haven’t removed any and all letter openers from my reach while we’ve been together.”

           His face pales in a flush, and the air around us climbs in temperature so quickly beads of sweat begin to prickle on my brow. Ignoring the monster I’ve obviously poked awake, I set my hand on his chest right above his pounding heart and drop my eyes to his lips before looking back up to meet those icy blue eyes.

           “And as for your mother, I think I killed her too quickly the first time.”

           His tongue darts across his teeth for a second before disappearing as his lips pull back in a sneer. There is a flash of something akin to uncertainty in his eyes though. A thrill rushes through me. She didn’t tell him that part, and she might have even kept his own death from him. Interesting.

           Sliding back away from him and dropping my hand, I take in his flittering emotions he desperately tries to keep under control. I can’t image what is passing through his mind. If Elara didn’t tell him about their deaths, what else has she kept from him? It might be worth it to poke a little more and find out.

           Even as the thought of prying him open and exposing his hollow insides thrills me, I can’t help thinking of how he spent hours near my bedside after Samson had turned me inside out and left me a bleeding corpse. Nor can I ignore that once upon a time, a part of him had loved me.

           “Oh Maven,” I breathe, my chest aching once more as I look him over. “You could have been something wonderful if you had been anyone else’s.”

           His inhale is sharp, and the heat around us vanishes as he sucks it in to fuel the furnace of his emotions. The next words that leave me are as much a truth as they are a weapon that I use against him.

           “I might have loved you too, you know. I might have been happy with you.”

           His entire body goes taut like a rubber band pulled too tight. I can’t imagine what those words have done to him, I know what they do to me. They relive the ache and chase away the cold bite from the autumn breeze that cuts through my loose shirt. I have known for years that he would never truly leave me, that I will always love him in a strange way. But seeing all of this, and discovering that even when I might have had a chance to save him, there was no chance so long as Elara loved him too.

           “The game is beginning. Line up your pieces if you want to play chess.” I murmur to him before stepping around him and heading for the viewing deck. I pause long enough to glance at him over my shoulder though and say, “but just know, it’s hard to beat an opponent that knows every move you will make.”

(/Cal/)

           Mare finds me between meetings. Her dark hair is swept up in an elaborate hairstyle she picks at nervously, drawing strands out to frame her face. Glancing over my shoulder at the remainder of the council as they pass, I pause before her long enough to say colorlessly, “Is something wrong Lady Titanos?”

           The few sets of eyes that watch us look away with shrugs. Their ears are probably still tuned in, but as far as they are concerned, she is probably looking for Maven and happened to find me first.

           “Farley made contact. The Hexaprin Theater just like before.”

           She’s been gone most of the day with Maven, making appearances and smiling like the dutiful princess she is. I’m not sure how Farley could have possibly made contact with her during all of that, but it’s a relief she didn’t contact Maven first. Meanwhile, I’ve been locked up in Whitefire. My father has hardly let me out of his sight, which I suppose should be understandable. The attempt on my life shook him to his core. Even though I push back, insisting they wouldn’t try again, he refuses to let me leave the castle walls. I don’t know how I will get out to join Mare in this endeavor like she wants with the Sentinels that trail me almost everywhere I go. I guess it now truly understand how Mare felt during her time with us. I don’t blame her for constantly being irritable now. 

Still, my brow rises as the name of the theater. I know it well. When I was younger Julian used to take me to plays and tried to pique my interest in the art form. I had squirmed in my seat the whole time, eager to get out of the dark space and run outside. He gave up once I turned ten, realizing I didn’t have much love for the arts. I knew it saddened him, that he had hoped I shared the same soft spot for them that my mother did. 

My chest tightens at the thought of my uncle. I got him out of Archeon earlier than before, helping him and Sara smuggle away in the dead of night after he got Farley and Kilorn out of the cells. I sent him to Montfort with instructions to speak with Dane Davidson as soon as possible. To try and get him in contact with Guard. There’s no telling if they made it. I can only hope they managed to cross the border.

“It’ll be tough for me to get out.”

“This will only work if you come with me.” Mare insists, her eyes darting past my elbow to the doors of the council chamber. I know who she’s looking for, but she won’t find him.

“He’s seeing to something with his mother.” I instruct, even as I glance around just to be certain. Only a servant passes in a flutter of skirts. She curtsies to me and Mare before hurrying along, obviously loath to be around us any longer than necessary.

“The bloodbase.” Mare’s voice drops to a worried waver as she sets her hand on her pocket. I know she has the book hidden in the pocket of her jacket, the one Julian gifted her with the name of every Ardent he found within Norta’s borders. She sleeps with it under her pillow, her fingers curled around the faded cover as if Maven will creep into her room at night and steal it away.

Shaking my head, I grab her elbow and pull her into an alcove when I hear the sound of more steps approaching. I squeeze into the space between the pillars with her until our bodies almost have to become one to fit. Her hands rest on my chest as she evens out her breathing, recognizing a hiding place when she sees it.

A group of nobles pass us, Osanos and Iral judging by the colors of their clothes. I purse my lips and wait until they leave the hall to look back down at her and whisper. “I took care of it. I printed out all their names and wiped them from the database. They’re safe.”

“Unless Maven is already going after them.” Mare mutters bitterly.

“He hasn’t. I checked last known whereabouts too. Everyone is accounted for.”

“People lie on those stupid records Cal.”

“Not when you’re the first person in years to click on the page.” I let my lips curl into a knowing smile. She can think I’m stupid and hardheaded all she wants, but I do know my way around my own world. “There is a clicker at the bottom of each record to indicate the last time it was opened. I am the first one to look at them in years. You can’t lie to that program.”

           She expels a breath, before look up at me through her lashes. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. We’re meddling too much now.”

           “At this point, does it really matter?” I ask, repeating words I spoke to Julian in the dead of night when he questioned my decision to send him to Ascendent.

           Her lips draw into a tight line that pales her already painted lips. “No.” She agrees before sliding out of the alcove so I can follow her.

           When we step into the light, I watch the shifting sunbeams as they cut across her face. She crosses her arms before looking down the hallway and saying, “We need to get into the afternoon showing. Can you do that?”

           I grimace thinking about my father and the hawk like eyes he has kept on me recently. “It’ll be difficult, but nothing I can’t handle.”

           “Do you want to rehearse with me?” She teases, eyes lighting with laughter when she notices how I chew on my lower lip.

           “I think I’ll tell my father that I’ve decided Evangeline can take a long walk off a short pier and that I much prefer you and I plan to make heirs with you as soon as we enter than theater box.”

           Her eye widen and a blush paints her cheeks. It’s so ferocious the makeup almost can’t hide it. It makes me chuckle before reaching a hand out to cup her jaw and stroke a thumb along that warm puddle of red staining her skin. “Kidding love. Although I think that he’ll be so surprised and horrified that he lets me go just to see if I’m serious.”

           “Mess up my nice skirts Tiberias and I will take your hands for it.” She snorts before pulling away and throwing a smirk over her shoulder. “Get us tickets to the show and be there with me. Also, it might be a good idea to assign Walsh to a... different part of Whitefire.”

           I grimace, remembering the last time I saw her foaming at the mouth while I tried to close her throat to keep the poison from spreading. I sent her for Mare, trusted her with the secret that I met a Red girl in the Stilts and cared. Regardless of what Mare might have thought of me before when that moment passed, I did care. A part of me had been horrified to watch the light leave Walsh’s eyes.

           “I’ll make sure of it.” I whisper.

(/Mare/)

           The theater darkens, and I sink back into my chair, keeping an eye on the Sentinels standing in the doorway. They are here to protect Cal. Allowances had to be made so that he could leave Whitefire, but its an allowance that may cost us our meeting with Farley. There are more of them than before, but they’re simply a hinderance, one that will have to be dealt with at some point very soon.

           Honestly, Maven and Elara trying to kill him has simply become an annoyance now. If they hadn’t, it would be so much easier to sneak around with Cal.

           “They have to go.” I murmur, letting my eyes flint to them as I edge a little closer to the railing of the box and glance over it into the crowd below.

           With a quick nod, Cal leans back in his seat. Before Maven gave the secretary that came with us a mischievous smile and quick order to get rid of our tail. Cal can do no such thing without raising suspicion. It’s already gotten out that I am the one that shouted his name and stopped the bleeding during the Sun Shooting long enough for Sara Skonos to get to him and save him. But Cal spread a faster rumor behind it, his words burning like wildfire through the High Houses, erasing the rumor I know Elara started about us. My shout hadn’t been in fear according to his account, it had sounded like nerves. Maybe I’d lost Maven in the crowd and gotten overwhelmed by the proceedings, and when I had seen Cal I called to him for help. Because of that, I had been close enough to stop the bleeding when the gun went off.

           I had been shocked at the lie he told with an abandon to his father and the court, and how well he crafted it on a moment’s notice. Perhaps he needed to stop spending so much time around Dane. I had noticed that crafty man spending a suspicious amount of time trying to craft Cal into a better Statesman in the recent years.

           “Sentinel Osanos, if you could take the others into the antechamber.” He nods over his shoulder to the small sitting room attached to the box. “I doubt you and the others have any interest in this show and your presence is unfortunately ruining Lady Mareena’s first impressions of it too.”

           “I have my orders, sir.” The Sentinel warns, his eyes darting between the two of us.

           “I can handle anything that comes.” Cal lets his lips quirk into an arrogant smile. I haven’t seen it in a long time, but it’s one of the few soldiers masks in his arsenal. It still makes my stomach flutter. “Besides, Lady Mareena has proven herself quite capable of saving my life if need be.”

           Osanos debates it for a very long second as the murmurs below us quiet and the curtain rustles with the start of the performance. During that second, my heart pounds. I don’t dare look up at the grating above out heads where I know Will Whistle will appear.

           “Of course, Your Highness.” The Sentinel bows his head and then nods to bring the others with him into the room. The door clicks shut, and the lock engages. I grab Cal’s hand and squeeze it in silent praise, before glancing at him side on.

           “Impressive.”

           His smile falls as he looks away from the door and forward again. “We’ll have to be silent. We’re lucky my father didn’t send an Eagrie with us.”

           Unfolding from his position in the chair to relax further, he turns his hand over to lace his fingers with mine. The touch sends waves of reassurance through me. Now we just have to keep him hidden long enough that Will doesn’t recognize him and gets us to Farley. After that, I’m not quite sure what we will do.

           “Farley won’t let you on the Undertrain without a fight.” I murmur, glancing at our joined hands. He sweeps his thumb along my skin in a soothing motion even as his eyes stay forward on the stage as it comes to life.

Gentle touches in the dark, so very like how our relationship started. It almost makes me snicker. I suppose things never really did change between us.

He doesn’t reply to my comment, but I know he’s thinking about it all the same. His palm heats with his frustration, but he doesn’t show it on his face.

I let my eyes wander to the stage where I finally get a look at the play I never watched before. Brightly colored costumes dance across the stage and I tilt my head to look at them, trying to understand the story. “We never went to any of the plays in Ascendent.” I murmur to him.

There were plenty of playhouses, and I know for a fact Julian got us tickets to one he loved. We never got the chance to go, but now I wish we had.

“I’ve never been a fan of theater.” He chuckles and finally turns to look at me. He traded his finer regalia for a more toned down jacket and black shirt today. With the aid of the darkness, I can almost imagine we are in Ascendent, that it’s just another weekend and we decided to do something we’ve never done.

“Then when you annoy me, I am going to drag you to shows when we get back and tie you to a chair so you can’t leave.” I say with a smirk.

The ceiling panel above our heads slides away, and his eyes dart up at the same time as mine. We’re both accustomed to how the Guard functions. The sudden disappearance of the tile doesn’t surprise him like it did Maven.

“Show time.” I whisper to him before dropping his hand and stepping on the seat of my chair. Grasping the edge of the hole I haul myself up into the darkness. When I glance down to help him though, he is already half-way into the crawl space with me. The panel slides into place as soon as Cal vanishes in the shadows. I wait half a second for Will to sound an alarm to notice that I don’t have the right prince with me.

He does no such thing, simply speaks into the darkness the same words he did before. “Be quick and quiet. I’ll take you from here.”

I reach for Cal’s wrist in the dark and grip it tightly with a reassuring squeeze. Will turns and begins to climb through the space, not waiting for us to follow.

“Watch your head,” I instruct as I skirt the edge of the ceiling panel. “It gets low in a few places.”

Cal grunts in understanding but follows at a pace that surprises me. It was a tight squeeze for Maven, so I don’t really know how Cal manages but he does. I’m sure he has Farley’s work with him to thank for that. He crawled through enough sewer tunnels and drains with us while we were at the Notch after all. I’m sure while I was locked away with Maven he was doing the same thing too.

The sounds of the play overhead mask our movements as we drop down ladders and steps and through little trapdoors. Cal only smacks his head once, and I flip around to grab his head to check for blood when he curses soundly in the dark. I grimace when I feel the nasty knot already taking shape on his forehead near his hairline. That will have to be explained away when we get back, but we really truly don’t have time to assess it too much. Will sets grueling pace, and Cal practically shoves me forward when the Whistle almost disappears around a turn.  

It takes only minutes for us to drop into the access tunnels that connect to the Undertrain platform. The damp chill of the space presses through my thin jacket and pants, reminding me of the march we did into Archeon to save Cal and everyone from the Lakelander invasion. Cal drops lightly down behind me though, and instantly the space warms and the memory fades. It’s still too dark to see his features clearly which is only to our advantage. I can’t have Will trying to stop us now.

That cover does not last long though. The platform is haunted by a lone torch, and when Will turns around with a sharp smile, ready to bask in our surprise, his eyes widen as he takes in Cal behind me. I set my hand on Cal’s chest in response, trying to push him back into the shadows while I light my hand with lightning.

Will never gets a chance to act though, the furious screech of the Undertrain as it rushes into the station shakes the walls and announces Farley’s arrival. As it coasts to a stop in front of us, Will spins to the doors and waves his arms while trying to shout over the screeching of the brakes to give a signal to not stop. The train grinds to a halt though, and the doors still open to spill more light onto the platform.

Farley unfolds from the chair like a spring let loose. Her hand flies to the gun at her hip, and I spin to face her with my lightning at the same time. Even with my ears ringing from the sound of the brakes engaging, I can hear the click of her turning the safety off as she draws the gun.

“Farley—” I try to shout, but Cal beats me to speaking, his voice a dangerous warning echoing in the tunnel as he glares Farley down.

“Diana, stop.”

He would have gotten the same reaction if he burned her alive. Farley’s eyes widen at the usage of her birthname, and her fingers wavers on the trigger long enough for me to speak.

“He’s with us.” I urge as I drop my hand, but I don’t dismiss the lightning bouncing between my fingers like webbing. It’s my own warning to her. She knows what I can do, and like her, I don’t miss anymore.

Her laugh is unexpected, and I almost jump at the sharp bite of it. She keeps the gun raised, but her fingers slides from the trigger to rest alongside the barrel. It’s the only sign she is still listening to us. “The little prince was right. He’s whispered his way into your head.”

“The only ones whispering into anyone’s heads is Maven and Elara .” Cal speaks quietly, his eyes scanning the track and the platform for any more Scarlet Guard operatives. There are none to be seen though.

Farley tilts her head to the side, her eyes narrowing to diamond colored slits. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t pull the trigger or even move her finger in the direction of it.

I expel a slow sigh of relief and take a step forward. I can feel the burn of electricity in the train, screaming like an upset toddler to be released. Gritting my teeth against the heachache forming because of it, I murmur, “you trusted me to get you out of that cell, trust me in this Farley. Hear us out.”

Her eyes moves past my shoulder to Cal who staggers his stance to move in either direction if he has to avoid her bullet. Her jaw ticks, and the electricity reaches an all time high pitch that stands my hairs on end. I haven’t felt anything like it weeks, not since the shield during Queenstrial exploded around me and tried to contain me.

“Make your decision, the Undertrain won’t wait.” I grimace as I reach up to press my fingers to my temple where the ache is strongest. If she notices my use of the train’s name, she doesn’t say anything.

Cal takes a step forward, stealing ground, only for Farley train that gun on him again and rest her finger on the trigger. 

“Not another step, Your Highness.” She squeezes gently, putting enough pressure on that trigger that even the slightest movment on her part will fire the gun. I side step to put myself in front of Cal should she overestimate her abilities, but Cal simply pushes me to the side again.

With quick movements he unclasps the bracelets around his wrists and holds them up to the light for Farley to see. “Incentive,” he murmurs before tossing them in her direction. She lowers the gun to catch them one handed, almost dropping them due to their weight. I inch forward, my hand extended for them in surprise. I trust Cal to make a tactical decision, but he just threw his own tactical advantage five feet away from him.

The metal bands glint dully in the odd florescent lights of the Undertrain, but Farley glances down at them, unimpressed. With a quirked brow she raises the gun again, although its much more hesitant this time.

“I’m nothing without them.” Cal instructs while he sweeps his arms out from his sides as if to accentuate his point. “Keep them until we finish talking if it pleases you. But we do have to talk.”

“I know.” Farley reasons, her eyes narrowing before darting between the two of us. Even if I didn’t know her as well as I do, I could see the distrust and unease in her eyes. I can’t imagine what Maven has told her, but I know that he hasn’t spoken to her since before the Sun Shooting. It is our only advantage right now, that and the fact that Julian and I were the ones to get her and Kilorn out of the cells below the palace. It doesn’t hurt either that by the time we got down to the cells, the king was more concerned with his son almost dying than the rebels trapped in the cell before him. There had been no time for the interrogation that I know almost cost Farley her arm. She got off easy, too easy, because of us.

Whatever battle she is fighting with herself ends, and she steps to the side to let us pass.

(////)

Narcery is more disheveled than I remember. Perhaps it’s because I’ve already seen most of it repaired and turned into a decent city again years from now. Or maybe it’s because I’ve truly forgotten how downtrodden the world was before we began to right it. Either way, it’s hard not to grimace as we slink through the streets toward the café Farley stomps toward.

The Reds in the doorwards gasp and whisper as Cal passes, and I reach down to grip his hand. None of them are New Blood that I know of, but if someone gets it in their head to finish was Farley started, they won’t make it more than two steps.

He gives me a reassuring squeeze as we pass through the crumbling doorway of the café and into the dimly lit space. In his little booth, Kilorn practically almost leaps to his feet, his eyes wide while his hand flies to the gun on his belt.

“Stand down.” Farley orders smoothly, earning a frown from my friend. He doesn’t immediately listen, but his fingers eventually relax and drop back to his side. I release the tension in my shoulders in response. The air in the room shifts with the change in heat and static that Cal and I bring, but the ice in Kilorn’s gaze might as well be tangible too.

“And why haven’t we shot him?” He asks Farley as she drops into the booth.

With a wave of her hand, she dismisses him and glares in our direction. Cal’s bracelets clink against the dusty table as she sets them out in the open. With a tilt of her head, her expression relaxes and the nasty scar cutting through her lip softens. It never ceases to amaze me how young she really was when this all started. We were all still just children, playing games we never should have.

“They want to speak,” she says, her eyes dropping to our entwined hands. “And I have to admit I am curious what excuse Mare will give to explain blowing our entire operation to pieces.”

“We hardly blew it to pieces, you were almost completely successful.” Cal huffs behind me, and I dig my elbow into his side in response. No use pissing off Farley, or enticing her to pull that gun out again. We both know she will too.

Glaring at Cal for his comment, I address the other two sitting in the booth. “Maven gave you Cal’s name, but he was not the original target.”

“No,” Farley agrees, “he wasn’t.”

“It was Ptolemus Samos.” I turn my eyes back to her, and am rewards with a quirked brow, the only sign she is surprised by my knowledge. Kilorn is not as good at hiding his emotions. His brows dart up towards his hair line as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“You missed that meeting, the one where he gave us the original names! He told us that he never told you them... you can’t possibly have known—”

“I know because I’ve already been through that shooting before. You don’t get Ptolemus that time either.” I step forward and leave Cal behind me, safely in the line of my body. If Farley wants to shoot him at any point in time, she’ll have to shoot me first. “The Sun Shooting was a disaster that time, and it was a disaster this time.”

Kilorn blinks at me, confusion sweeping over his face now. Farley is simply more skeptical, and rightfully so. I didn’t exactly explain anything, just created more questions and puzzling conclusions for her.

“What are you getting at Barrow?” She murmurs as her eyes dart to the broken window behind me. I don’t dare look at who might be there. If its Shade, I will never be able to leave these ruins.

“You have to promise to listen to us, to let us explain as quickly as possible.” Cal speaks for me and the heat that rolls off of him washes over me as he steps closer, soothing tense muscles I bunch in preparation to run. His hand presses into my lower back only a second later. “We don’t have much time.”

Farley’s eyes narrow even further as she takes in how we stand next to each other, and how we remain close enough to protect the other at all times. Even if Maven told her that I was slowly teetering toward Cal, our body language suggests a deeper relationship and understanding of each other than could ever be established in a few weeks. Not to mention Cal knew her name, her real name. There’s no way in hell he could have found that out on his own.

“Who are you?” She asks quietly after a moment, earning a worried glance from Kilorn.

My lips curl into a slow smile as I take in her uncertainty. I can’t remember the last time Farley was on the backfoot. She has always been so headstrong and driven, but she reels back now, like a horse seeing a snake under its hooves. “We’ve all met before, and known each other for years.”

“Bullshit.” She says, pushing to her feet and advancing on me. Cal’s fingers curl around my arm to pull me behind him. I stand my ground though and raise my chin as she stand over me.

“How’s your dad? The Colonel? Has that eye healed up yet?” I ask with a quirked brow. Her breathing fluctuates at the mention of him while she stops dead in her tracks. Her eyes dart to Cal as if to assess how much he reacts to my words. He does nothing but glance down at me and drop my arm, catching on to what I’m doing. Farley won’t be bought over with a cute story like what we told Julian and Sara. She will need cold hard evidence, painful evidence if need be.

“It’s kind of cute that you decided your code name would be lamb, since his is ram.” I tilt my head to the side, earning an strangled inhale as she backpaddles. “Even more so given how infuriating he can be for you.”

Her whole face goes red, and tips of her ears tinge pink immediately. Kilorn opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and closes it again. I don’t blame him, the fury in Farley’s eyes is enough to burn me to the ground.

With her lips pressed into a firm line, she presses her shoulders back to stand to her full height. “Are you Command?” She asks stiffly, her eyes roaming over me and settling on Cal when he barks out a dry laugh.

I elbow him again and shoot a glare, but he laughs at my expression. Turning his amusement on Farley, he says, “no. I’m not even on the list of people they would open a position for.”

“We know those in Command though.” I shoot a single spark into Cal’s arm to shut him up, making him snap back and rub the spot.

“I don’t believe you. Its not possible.” Farley growls setting her hand on her gun.

“I would appreciate you not drawing that gun Diana.” Cal warns his amusement dying as fast as my comfort with the situation.

“Who told you my name.”

“I know it from previous experience.”

“Don’t see how that’s possible.” Kilorn grumbles before rising from the booth as well. His eyes dart between the two of us, and as he starts to form his own opinon the curiosity in his eyes bleeds away into brittle resentment.

“Like I said, we’ve known each other for years.” I push past my locked jaw. This is starting to look next to impossible but if we have any hope of saving ourselves from the disaster to come, then we have to get them to listen to us.

“To be more clear, we will know each other for years someday.” I correct my previous statement quietly, letting the words hang in the too heavy air for a few seconds. Farley quirks a brow, realization crossing her features as she starts to put things together. She’s always been quick as a whip, and that works to our advantage.

Right when I think she’s about to say something though, she laughs. Kilorn blinks at her, taking a hesitant step away. I doubt he’s ever heard the sound, but I know it well. It still cracks on the edges the same way it does in the future. Honestly, it always sounds like she never laughs, even though I know for a fact she does that more than anything someday.

“Barrow, I have seen what you can do. And while it turned everything I knew about the world upside down… you cannot expect me to also factor some form of time travel into this whole mess.” She shakes her head, and dismisses me with a wave. Still laughing to herself she sinks down into the booth, and takes to fiddling with Cal’s bracelets. There is a hint of uncertainty behind her eyes though, and I know exactly who and what she is thinking about.

“There are hundreds—thousands like me Farley. You haven’t met all of them yet, but there are abilities far stranger than mine. My brother’s for instance.”

Her expression pulls tight for a heartbeat before she smoothers the emotion. I pull on that line though, and step forward, pointedly ignoring Kilorn who is still gapping like a fish and trying to come to the same conclusion as Farley. “I know he’s alive, and that he’s here with you. He jumps, appearing in different places in seconds. I make lightning. There will be a New Town girl who becomes our friend that can kill you with a thought and silence Silvers in the same way. There are three other Reds just like me in Montfort. There is a girl who can bathe everyone in a bubble of silence so no one outside of it can hear you. Another woman can remember every single thing she reads or that is said to her. Another older woman can change her face to be whoever you need her to be.” My heart squeezes at the memory of all the Ardents I rescued and then sent to their deaths. I promised them safety, security, and then pulled all of that away from them. All because one man told me I had to do it. “Is it so hard to believe then that there is someone years from now who can send people back in time?”

Those diamond eyes snap to me and look me over before Farley’s lips twist into a half sneer. “Your brother is dead Barrow, he was executed for—”

“Farley, please.” I whisper, coming to stand over her. Even sitting she is almost as tall as me, but I channel every ounce of military prowess she tried to teach me as I glare down at her. “If I walk out of this room, I will find him in less than an hour, and you will feel incredibly stupid when I do.”

Her lips pale as she pushes them together, tighter than ever before. Her eyes dance to Cal beyond me again, who has thankfully kept his mouth shut this whole time and has decided to simply sit on the edge of a table to watch us.

“He came with me.” I soften my tone and slowly sink down into the seat opposite her. Her eyes follow me like a rabbit would a wolf. Her fingers are cold when I take them, even with how warm it is in the room. She doesn’t pull away though, and I wonder if somewhere, her future self recognizes my touch. “I need you to trust us. I know how hard that is with everything that has happened, but Farley you have to.”

“Do we win?” She asks the question so quietly, I almost miss it while I’m speaking. Every muscle in body tenses against the truth that wants to escape though. I glance at Cal, wondering if he heard the same thing as me. He simply looks down at his boots, unable to offer any aid.

Swallowing past the rock in my throat, I look down at the table top. It’s dusty and cracked in some places. But it has no answers either. We have already done so much to destroy the path we were supposed to be on, what was one more change? “Yes,” I whisper and her eyes flash bright and wide.

“But we pay may terrible prices for it.” The last part almost doesn’t make it out. Shade’s death tries to claw that statement to ribbons, Archeon burning, and all the people we lost in the Harbor Bay siege and the final Archeon siege weigh heavy against my chest. The silence stretches to the breaking point around us as those memories consume me. I wish I could take back those words, swallow them and refrain from admitting to what I’m sure she suspects. She must read the memories as they pass across my face because her expression softens a hint.

“Its war Barrow,” the Farley I know so well comes to the surface when she switches her grip to grab my hands instead. “I never expected to win for free.”

She narrows her eyes at Cal then, who simply gives her a tight nod she doesn’t return. “I still don’t like you.” She announces a second later. “And I hope I never do.”

“You give me a hard time for years, I promise you that much.” He teases, some of the light returning to his eyes. I crack a weak smile at their banter, even though I ache at the reminder of the future relationship they share. Farley never does let him off the hook, and every chance she has to remind him of his past, she does. I don’t blame her though, she never lets herself get too congenial with anyone.

“We trust him… just like that?” Kilorn tries to burn a hole between Cal’s eyes with his glare. He doesn’t succeed, especially when Cal smirks at him and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He’s the picture of ease, and I know that drives Kilorn insane.

“Relax Kilorn,” I tease, and then beckon Cal over to me. “He knows that if he steps out of line I won’t hesitate to put him back in his place.”

Farley glances between the two of us before saying, “So the second prince wasn’t lying. You two are…”

“In this together.” Cal finishes for her. His eyes narrow at what Maven might have inferred even as he looks down at me for confirmation.

“We don’t have time to get into details,” I add, making room for him in the booth as I lean forward to start drawing a map of Archeon in the dust on the table. “Maven and his mother know what we know. Which means they have been pulling the strings and trying to sabotage any advantage we have. They will not hesitate to wipe the Scarlet Guard off the map this time around.”

“I don’t understand.” Kilorn grumbles and crosses his arms tightly across his chest. “I thought we trusted that prince?”

“Maven is the one we have to worry about.” I finish drawing the bridge and narrow my eyes at the crude drawing. “He was always going to betray us.”

“How?” Farley sneers, obviously not happy with me inferring that she made a mistake in judgement. Maven was her recruit after all. “He’s given us names, information.”

“All fed to him by his mother, who is counting on us tomorrow night staging a coup and failing so that she can murder the king and remove you and any true Scarlet Guard opposition.” I murmur and watch as Farley’s fury melts into horrible understanding. My stomach drops but Cal speaks before I can.

“He’s already spoken with you and made the plan.” His voice is cold, even while the space around us starts to burn with the heat he releases. My own lightning wants to be unleashed as well. It takes more effort than I like to reign it in. I was wrong. He did speak with her, about more than just me and Cal. 

“He said Barrow would try to come to me and change my mind, that I had to know she was in collusion with you and planned to stand by your side when the time came. That she would ultimately betray me.” Farley breathes, her eyes widening. “He said that the coup was the only way we would win, remove you two in one swoop.”

“He and Elara were counting you believing him wholly and me not bringing Cal.” I growl, and swipe my hand through the map on the table to erase it. The plan is useless at this point. Maven already took it and molded it to his needs. I should have never spoken to him on the barge, maybe I should have just continued to pretend I was some stupid girl that didn’t know how to play the game. I may have destroyed any hope we had of beating him and Elara now.

“They also aren’t counting on us having any other plan. Or my support.” Cal murmurs before drawing his own map in the dirt. The angle is far different from what I drew. “They don’t know that I know the future or that I am with you all. They think Mare is the only one.” His finger moves through the dust and Kilorn finally edges closer to see what he draws.

“So we play into their hands.” He murmurs as he glances at me for my support.

“What?” I wheeze as I watch him draw the same offensive we instigated last time. “Cal, if we do that—”

“Then it all goes the way it did before, with the added benefit that when you get captured this time, we can stop Elara. We know what’s coming and we can plan for it.” Cal finishes drawing his map before drawing a second more detailed map of the Whitefire next to it. “This time, we won’t be alone in that room.”

I struggle to keep up with his thought process, trying to determine exactly how he plans to make this work. The only way Farley and the other Scarlet Guard members will make it into that room is in shackles like me. Elara will slaughter us all like pigs then. 

“The tunnels run under Whitefire right?” He asks Farley who hesitates for a second before nodding tersely. He etches a few makeshifts ones into the picture and then sits back to say, “when I take Mare captive for treason, you and a small unit will move through the tunnels and get to the throne room. From there, you wait for a signal Mare and I will give. When that happens, we take Elara and Maven.”

“Bold.” Farley murmurs as she glances over the plan. “And suicidal. We’ll never make it in.”

“You will if I don’t station anyone at a specific entrance. Name it, and I will keep the regiments away from it.” Cal waves his hand over the picture and glances forlornly in my direction. “If it fails, we still go to the Bowl of Bones, but this time we’ll know what to expect.”

My heart pounds in my chest as the memory of the too thin sand shifting beneath my feet almost overtakes me. Even though it is years behind me and days ahead of me, the heat of Cal’s fire trying to catch on the sand still burns my cheeks and my stomach twists at the echoing sound of the bar punching through Arven’s chest.

“In the meantime, you need to evacuate Tuck.” I whisper forcing the bile down as I look up at Farley. She blanches at the command, but I narrow my eyes to silence her. “Elara has seen in my mind. She knows about Tuck, she knows about a number of other Scarlet Guard strongholds like Narcery too. Did you not find it strange that Maven was not afraid to travel to a supposed heavily radiated place?”

She opens her mouth to argue with me, only to shut it like a trap and narrow her eyes. The thought never occurred to her, and I understand why. He probably got on the Undertrain and immediately started spilling honey and poison in her ear until she couldn’t even hear herself think. I can’t blame her for anything, he did the same to me, and I lapped at it like a starving child.

“Where will we go?” Kilorn whispers anxiously, his eyes darting to the street outside, as if a regiment might come marching down it right now. I don’t blame him. My friend is brave, always has been and always will be, but a Silver regiment is no laughing matter to him yet.

Cal stiffens next to me and says, “Irabella is the only safe haven. Mare was never there, but I was.”

“Why—”

“I doesn’t matter.” I interrupt Kilorn, and lean forward to speak again. “You just have to trust us. Tell the Colonel you have reason to believe Tuck and a number of other bases have been compromised. That an informate you have high up in the palace you trust explicitly told you that. The Notch is not safe either.”

Farley’s eyes widen, and it is then I realize that the mention of that safe haven is what finally secures her trust. The Notch was her hiding hole. Not one her father came up with. Command might not have even known about it. If what Cal and I said was true, and we were her allies in the future, she may have taken us there at some point. I wish I would have been smart enough to start with the mention of it. We could have saved time.

“And you need to start finding the others like me.” I whisper, as I pull the book out of my jacket pocket and set it on the table. The cover gleams against the dusty surface of the table, and I almost can’t pull my fingers off of it. The fates of so many reside inside of it. Cameron’s furious expression flashes through my mind as I ordered her taken onto the Blackrun. I will not force her into anything this time though. I only hope I don’t have to rescue her from a prison though.

I slide the book to Farley and trail my fingers off the cover as I whisper, “Maven and Elara might already be on the hunt for the Ardents in here, but I circled the names of the people that we rescued together. He will target them first if he is going after them, so you have to beat him to it.”

She picks up the book gingerly before looking between us and saying, “you mentioned the Bowl of Bones.”

Cal smiles wearily but leans back with the poise of a general to say, “we won’t have to worry about it. We’re going to avoid that point all together.”

Farley’s fears are not soothed by Cal’s confidence, and I can almost see the spikes she wants to drive through his eyes. At least she nods though, agreeing with him for the time being. I can’t even begin to express the relief that courses through me as she puts the book in her own pocket and nods once more.

“Then we will go with your signal.”

[the-scooby-gang]

Us... But not quite

Part 5

Summary: after falling thought a portal while they were being chased by their most horryfying monster yet, The Scooby Gang finds themselves in a place they have never been before. A place called Crystal Cove.

Making a herculean effort to not speed out of there like they were being chased by hellhounds again, Fred turned the van towards the direction of the town-that-should-not-be-feasible, putting as many miles as it was physically possible from the creepy vitamin-D deficient waitress nest.

When they no longer could see the restaurant on the rearview they collective let out a breath of relief.

“And here I was thinking that the creepiest thing that has ever happened to us was Shaggy’s British doppelganger” Daphne reclined against her seat, one hand over her eyes, one of her maps on her lap and a GPS on her other hand, trying to pin their location.

“Hey! Like, I will have you know that Tidy is no way as creepy as whatever the hell is going down on that dinner!” Shaggy opened one of his eyes to glare at the redhead right by his side. “Willian is many things but worse than omnipresent waitress is not one of them.”

Ah yes. Willian “Tidy” Rogers was not the creepiest event on their lives but he was by far the most surreal. After all, is not every day that one of your best friends goes to a summer camp and the person that comes back is his long-lost twin brother. But that is not here or there.

Shaggy was on the back of the van in a lotus position, a crystal ball on his lap and his book of spells floating close to his head. While Velma was using one of the computers on the van to search for information on their new location, Shaggy was trying to contact his coven with little success.

“Like, its not working! Man, this makes no sense, Grand always answers my calls. It’s not Tuesday so is not date night and even if they had one spontaneous date, Minerva would have let Neko in charge of the crystal ball!” Shaggy passed his hands through his hair in frustration.

“Rould rhe be on the rarden?” Scooby stopped making his sixth sandwich giving Shaggy one of the finished ones.

“Or the graveyard?” Fred looked sheepish from his place on behind the steering wheel.

Even after Shaggy embraced his wizard-ness back on their teenage years there were still things that the gang still haven't fully get used to.  Like daily strolls to the graveyard to get ingredients or to pass through portals and such.

Not that they cared much. Being a wizard was as much a part of Shaggy now as was his culinary prowess and they did not love in fractions. It was just another facet of their lives.

So what that their lover went into the closest liminal space that he could find every Halloween to go into the Grim Reaper Railway to join his coven of witches and comes back with his spellbook magically bigger and his pockets full of magical cookies? It was jus a part of their new normal.

“No, if she was in the graveyard Broomy would have noticed the crystal ball flashing and had gone get her.” Shaggy shrugged, half of his sandwich long gone. Fred nodded his head. He remembers Broomy. The broom may cheat on poker like nobodies business, but he was a good friend and would never just let Shaggy calls go to whatever the version of magical voice message was.

Shaggy was middle bite when the GPS went flying dangerously close to his nose followed by an infuriated growl from their shotgun. Their eyes turned towards their resident redhead who was one pull away from taking full chunks from her hair in frustration.

“THERE IS NOTHING! THIS ENTIRE PLACE IS JUST A GREAT PILE OF NOTHING!” she threw her hands towards the ceiling just for them to fall graceless on her sides, her head hanging in defeat on the backrest.

“Oh, Love” Fred looked at Daphne then at Scooby, who quickly got what was being asked of him and made a move towards the front seats. Taking off his seatbelt, Fred changed places with their canine friend.

Gently cradling Daphne in his arms they seated snuggling one another.

“This place doesn’t exist, Freddie” Daphne hid even further on the blonde’s neck. “GPS is useless. It’s working on our home maps and no matter how much I try to upgrade it; the thing keeps showing me our world roads… or lack thereof”

Velma left her place in front of the computer. Approaching them she calmly took both in her arms and brought them to the back. Shaggy removed his crystal ball from his lap and crawled closer to his friends.

“What do you mean by ‘lack thereof’?” Velma was trailing her fingers thru Daphne’s red locks hopping a little closer to her girlfriend.

“Exactly what it sounds. Crystal Cove is not in none of my maps! The GPS is showing me what should be: a bunch of trees and rock formations. There should have nothing here. No road, no dinners, no town! All my maps are telling me that the road that we are on should be a patch of forest at best or a jagged cliff at worst”

Fred, Velma and Shaggy shared a look. As one they converted towards their purple-clad lover, cuddling together.

Scooby looked at them thru the rearview mirror with worried eyes. The day was going from weird to worst fast. The reality was starting to set in for the young historian and the overwhelming lack of concrete facts to anchor herself was getting to her.

Whoever was responsible for sending them here was going to get their ass bitten, that Scooby promised. He hated seeing his humans in such distress.

Fred kissed Daphne forehead “That’s ok, love. Tell you what, when we arrive at the town we are going to get you all the maps that they have available.”

Daphne sniffed softly “Even the geological maps?”

“Especially the geological maps” Velma gently arranged one of the red locks behind the other girl ear than kissed her temple.

Shaggy took one of the young historian hands giving it a small kiss. “If you want, I can try to magically upgrade the map”

Daphne perked up immediately, her eyes twinkling “Really?”

“Really” he squeezed her hands once more before moving towards the front seat.

Taking the advantage of his lanky body he perked half of it over the seat division. Opening the glove compartment, he removed one of the many purple-marked maps from its neat place under the nail polishes. While he was folding his body back to the back of the van (not after giving their driver a well-deserved pat), Fred had passed Daphne to Velma all the while the redhead giggled over the ease off with they passed her to each other like she weighed the same as a pillow.

Fred and Velma smiled over her head. They hated seeing her distressed in any way. The situation was going to get to them all eventually and Daphne being the first was no surprise to them. After all what was worst to a young amateur historian and archaeologist than removing all the information in where she thrives from under her feet?

Fully back, Shaggy approached one of the many compartments that Fred added over the years. Removing an assortment of colourful bottles from there, he quickly mixed them together with precision and efficiency. When he finished the resulting concoction was bright purple, emitting a soft glow.

“Purple potion for my purple lady” he offered the bottle and the map to the Daphne, a soft smile in his face “Like, just drop it into the map. It will mix with the air from this place and will update the missing roads and locations”

Daphne’s smile could outshine the sun. Like a blur, the redhead bear-hugged the lanky man hard enough to hear clear pops from his spine.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” holding his face in her hands she gave the young chef a long kiss. Shaggy melted, his fingers entangling themselves on the red mane. Slowly they untangled themselves from each other and, together, they started the process of magically upgrading the map.

Meanwhile, Fred and Velma had smiled at their artistic lovers letting a sigh of relief.

“Who do you think is going to be the next one to snap?” Velma said as quietly as she could, turning back to the computer.

“From the way things are going? Me, probably” Fred shrugged, “Found anything on the internet or is it not working as the GPS?”

“Ah no. no, no, no. You are not changing the subject on me now mister, what do you mean you are the next?” She turned to him, a disbelieving looks in her face.

“Can’t you feel it, Honey Bee?” He turned his head slowly towards her with a wide deranged smile, his eyes large “I’m on the limit.” Raising his hand, his thumb and forefinger dangerously close from touching “I’m this close to going absolutely ape”

She smiles at him “Oh, Love. We all are”

They giggled together. If it sounded slightly like it was going to soon turn into a crazy laugh they didn't dwell on it.

“Uh, Ruys…” Scooby turned his head slightly towards them, confusion lacing his voice.

“What is it, Scooby?” Fred moved slightly towards the front seats, Velma just behind.

The Great Dane didn’t remove his eyes front the road. Just ahead of them was a blob of movement, a car, coming in the opposite lane. It was a van. It looked an awful lot like…

“It’s that the mystery machine?” Daphne said with a voice laced in disbelief.

It was a fraction of a second. Just enough for both vans to align. Just enough for both drivers to get a good look at each other.

Scooby would have lied if he said that looking at the driver didn’t give him a small bound of nostalgia.

It has been years seen he saw Fred that young.

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Nine: Letters, Lovers and Loyalties

A/N: This is the ninth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 2185

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

Yet another letter dropped into the lap of Aria Dumbledore as she sat absentmindedly sketching. Dropping her quill back into the small pot of ink which balanced on the arm of her chair, a small sigh escaped her lips. She had been expecting another to arrive any day now.

Aria allowed herself a small glance in the direction of her desk where the ever growing pile of unopened letter sat gathering dust. Disregarding her drawing, Aria traveled to her desk, fingers fumbling with the edge of the envelope. Admittedly, Aria's mind had been focused on that small pile of letters the past few days, and consequently the man who sent them. She couldn't bring herself to reply to his constant inquiries, but she had considered there was no harm in opening a few of them. She longed to hear from him, though she had been in denial for so long now she wasn't sure what to expect from his most recent letters.

Waiting no longer she ripped the paper from its wax seal, her eyes quickly scanning every word on the page.

My dear Aria, Though I know you say you cannot reply to my letters, I write them all with the hope that you will find the time in your busy schedule to at least read them. As always things are quiet here without you. Too quiet. I miss your voice. I miss hearing you sing to yourself in the shower thinking no one can hear you, I miss hearing you hum as you wander aimlessly through the house, I miss watching you draw as I pose for you, but most importantly I miss holding you in my arms. I long for the end of the school year when we will be reunited and I will have nothing to miss except maybe writing these letters. I long for a response to my letters, my darling. I simply must know that you miss me as I miss you. In the mean time I will continue to write to you to keep myself distracted from everything terrible happening in the world, by simply thinking of you. All my love, S.

Aria couldn't help but feel a great pang of guilt in the pit of her stomach for ignoring the letters, but she couldn't bare the thought of reading them, while she was still coming to terms with how she felt when she decided to leave for Hogwarts. She knew immediately she would not be able to maintain a long distance relationship with him. Though he was the first man she had ever loved she had been too cowardly to confess her feelings for him in person, let alone on a piece of parchment. She knew she was a pathetic coward from the moment he told her he loved her and she could not find it in her to return the favour. Her cowardice was more than proven the day she left for Hogwarts. Aria had planned to break up with him, to avoid further heartbreak down the line. But she could not even find the courage to do that.

Instead she was living in denial. In her mind they had broken up, and refused to face up to whatever she was truly feeling until it was absolutely necessary. Her plan had been to distract herself as much as possible, suppress her feelings and just forget about the situation completely. And to be totally honest her plan had been working for her, with the exception of a few off days such as today. However when it came time to wake up and face the music she had no idea what her plan would be then.

Leaving the letter open on her desk she took a stroll around the grounds of Hogwarts to clear her mind. The time to figure out all of her problems was not now. She was still a young, carefree woman and she didn't want the burden of guilt stopping her from living her life however she so wished.

Arias walk led her to the village of Hogsmeade, and after working up a light sweat, the young professor opted to pop into the Three Broomsticks to quench her thirst.

Unsurprisingly for a late Tuesday evening the place was barren. Besides for a drunken wizard practically falling off his bar stood, a crazy witch whispering to herself and two well dressed men, sitting out of place in a side booth, the place was completely deserted. Planning to only stay for a pumpkin juice Aria took a seat at the bar and begun chatting to the same barmaid who had served her and Severus all those weeks ago.

"Busy night?" Aria joked, rolling her eyes at the drunk to her right.

The woman laughed in return, handing over a glass of pumpkin juice. "This is pretty much the standard, at this time." She shrugged, polishing off a perfectly clean glass, to keep herself busy. "That one over there doesn't even order anything, but its not worth the hassle kicking her out." She gestured to the old hag in the corner, her perfectly polished nails glistening in the dim bar light.

"I wish I could say I felt sorry for you, but a break away from the chaos that is Hogwarts is a slight relief." Aria sighed. She was still not used to being around so many people all the time having spent the past few years alone, besides her mother, she often needed time alone to breathe.

"Oh, then you must be new. I've had my fair share of lonely professors spend an evening behind my bar, and I usually remember who's spilled their whole life story to me. Though you do look familiar, what do you teach?" She finished up with her glasses, leaning her elbows on the bar to get a closer look at the younger woman, her breasts practically falling out her blouse.

"I'm just an apprentice for now. I'm the new Potions Mistress." Aria smiled, taking a small sip of her drink.

"Oh yes, now I remember. You came here with that Severus. He's not unfamiliar with our whiskey selection, if you know what I mean." Both women rolled their eyes in unison. "He doesn't seem to talk much though, I can't say I know anything about him. I must admit I was surprised to see him with a gorgeous young witch like yourself."

"You weren't the only one." Aria scoffed, finishing off her pumpkin juice.

"Well it makes a little bit more sense now." She laughed, a set of pristine pearly teeth emerging from her red glossy lips.

It seemed Aria was not the only one who had been admiring the woman's beauty, and almost right on cue the drunk decided to look a little bit more lively, demanding another pint. Reluctantly the barmaid obliged, shooting Aria an apologetic look.

Aria couldn't help but notice the gruff looking man practically throw himself over the bar in order to get a good gawk at the barmaids behind. The slightly older woman seemed unfazed by the mans actions, in-fact Aria wasn't entirely unsure she wasn't enjoying the attention. Choosing not to interrupt as neither party seemed to object to the altercation, Aria kept her mouth shut.

That was until the man's attention turned to her. The barmaid disappeared from view, presumably to refill the barrel the drunk had practically drowned himself in. "Haven't seen you around here before." He started harmlessly, though Aria did not miss the way his eyes seemed to scan the whole of her body.

"Just moved into Hogwarts, haven't seen much of Hogsmeade." Aria admitted, but made the conscious decision to turn away from him, hoping not to engage in any further conversation.

"You a friend of Ros'" He asked, intrigued, while downing a good half of his pint.

"Not really, no." Aria shrugged. "I didn't even know her name until just now."

"Rosalind Rookwood." He edged his seat closer to Arias. "Fantastic barmaid, though I wouldn't say it was her best profession." He winked.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Aria turned her nose up at the man, just praying he would leave her alone.

"Well, you know, bein' a barmaids fine an all, but it doesn't always pay the bills. Miss Rookwood's got her fair share of stories to tell, and not all of them her own." He laughed, the potent stench of his alcoholic breath suffocating Aria as he leaned in closer, wrapping a heavy arm around her shoulders. "If it turns out teaching isn't for you, just know you'll have a loyal customer in me." He hiccuped, his free arm, reaching down to stroke the woman's exposed thigh.

Instinctively Aria gripped onto his wrist, forcing it off of her. "What the hell do you think you are doing!?" Aria exclaimed, pushing the man away from her. "Don't you dare lay your hands on me again."

The drunk showed no sign of guilt or remorse, he simply chuckled to himself, revealing a shocking lack of teeth. Disgusted, Aria made to move but found herself cornered against the bar.

Fortunately the altercation had caused enough disruption to alert the two men having a casual evening drink. Instantly one rushed over to her aid, stupefying the old man. The second man followed suit and made it his business to remove the frozen figure from the bar.

"Are you alright?" The first man asked, his brow furrowing with worry.

"I'm fine, thank you for stepping in." Aria smiled, brushing herself down, as though she was riding herself from the drunks disgusting touch.

The man returned a boyish grin, his eyes bright blue and full of kindness. Aria had never seen anyone like him. His presence was almost cartoon like, with positivity radiating from him. Aria couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, her smile growing just by looking at him. His energy was contagious.

"Is... is there anything I can do to thank you?" She tried your shake herself back to reality though remained entranced by him.

"Nothing at all. I'm just glad I was here to help." He extended a hand, almost nervously, introducing himself. "Alexander Turner, pleasure to meet you."

"You too." Aria blushed, unable to break eye contact with the man, and was now incredibly aware of how dumbfounded she must look. "I'm Aria" She stuttered, the sound of his friend retuning sending her back to reality. "I apologise for staring, but I just can't seem to take my eyes off you, you have an enchanting aura about you. I'm sorry if I may seem a little strange."

"There's no need to apologise, I get it all the time." He laughed, though not arrogantly, it was sweet and innocent. "My mother's a Veela." He added, almost embarrassedly, upon noticing the slightly look of confusion appearing on Arias face.

The couple shared an awkward smile, both at a loss for words.

Alexander's friend passed by the pair silently, slapping him encouragingly on the shoulder before disappearing behind the bar, Rosalind following closely behind.

Aria noted the difference in both attitude and appearance in the two men, finally able to distinguish between the two. The friend was tall and broad shouldered, his hair messy though not long. He gave off a sort of American football, "bro", fratbroy vibe. In other words kind of arrogant and full of himself. Clearly he saw himself as the one in control. Alexander on the other hand was more slim, but not skinny. Tall but not lanky. Innocent but not naive. His clothes appeared similar to his friends but presented more neatly and well put together. She assumed he felt sorry for his friend, knowing his Veela parentage would gain him lots of female attention, and in return Alexander simply allowed himself to get pushed around to boost his friends ego.

With a roll of his eyes Alexander practically confirmed her theory and Aria couldn't stop herself from laughing once more.

Knowing that while Rosalind and 'Braydon'; as he turned out to be, would not be returning any time soon, Aria and Alexander chose to occupy one of the booths and get to know a little bit about each other, where Alex truly confirmed all of Aria's suspicions.

Upon Braydon's return, he flashed his rather large biceps, kissing each one in turn as he flexed them, before letting out a hearty growl, presumably this was a display of male dominance among his kind. His kind being; douchebags.

With another roll of her eyes Aria bid farewell to the men, thanking Alexander once more for his heroic rescue.

"How about a date?" Alex called nervously as Aria had just about reached the door.

"I'm sorry?" She replies, caught off guard.

"A date, here, with me. What do you say?" Aria shook her head unable to look away from that damn charming smile of his.

"I'll agree to a few drinks." She clarified. "Just send me an owl, you know where I'll be." And with that she disappeared once more down the path to Hogwarts, the grey sky above all the while threatening to rain down on her.

Taglist: @ayamenimthiriel @lizlil​

[innuendostyles]

Umm maybe Ben exploring his ‘feminine’ side more????? How bout him asking u to paint his nails? Or him asking if he can wear your makeup? Idk thought it would be cute hahah

ben wants to try something different

2.8k -> masterlist

waking up next to ben was one of her favourite things on the planet. something about the way his hand would rest underneath her shirt (if she had one on) and rub small circles under her breast settled her like nothing else could. she normally woke up to ben cooing to her, usually murmurs of how beautiful she was when she slept, or if she’d overslept it would be gentle reminders of where she had to be - which was why she was surprised to wake up to dead silence.

she yearned to feel his hands on her skin, as she was so used to, but instead, her hand simply rested in ben’s. her palm face down on ben’s larger hand while he traced one pointer finger over her freshly manicured nails. they were painted a pastel blue colour, completely matte except for a shimmery top coat applied to her ring finger. she’d been on the phone ben while she was getting her nails done, asking him what he thought she should get done when the nail lady asked her what colour she’d like. he asked her what clothes she had on at that moment, to which she replied a light blue jumper that had a sparkly carebear printed on the front of it. he simply gave a ‘well then…’ and told her he’d ring her back when she was done. so to see him admiring her fresh set wasn’t surprising.

his eyes flashed to hers as she roused herself from sleep, carefully removing her hand from his to wipe the drool from her chin. he gave her a light chuckle as her body strung completely taught before laying entirely limp back on the bed and stretching her arms across his chest. she clung to him like a koala, pressing a couple of kisses to his neck when she had enough energy.

“you like my nails?” she whispered, pressing one final kiss to his neck before sitting up.

“yeah.” he chuckled, resting his hand on her hip as she reached to the bedside table to retrieve her phone.

“i’ll make some breakfast.” she said, leaning down to place her hand on ben’s cheek before leaving the bedroom.

she walked down the stairs, calling for frankie as she reached the bottom step, happy to receive many sloppy kisses to her face when she bent down to give the dog her favourite behind the ear scratches.

there was a pink bottle stuck in her mouth, which y/n speedily removed and wiped on her t-shirt to get rid of all the dog spit. it was her nail polish, a cheaper dupe of some dior varnish she’d seen on instagram. the colour, effectively called ‘cha-ching cherry’ was a hot pink, and she’d bought it purely because it was on sale at the drugstore and reminded her of the dior version.

“how’d ya get this, silly girl?” she cooed to the dog, stamping kisses on the top of her head. she wondered how she even reached and opened the polish in the first place, she was sure it had still been in the plastic wrap it came in when she went to bed last night… no, it definitely was. she remembers placing it on the shelf next to the tv when she emptied her bag after she came home. so how had a three year old dog opened protective packaging? it was a mystery to her. instead of going full sherlock mode, she cracked some eggs into a pan and discarded the thought to the back of her mind.

she had to shout ben downstairs, which was unusual, because normally he’s downstairs as soon as she is, offering to help her make breakfast and playing whatever music he was in the mood for over the apartment speakers. he came down the stairs looking rather sweaty and she wondered what he’d been up to. looked like he’d just run a fucking marathon, but he was still dressed in his pyjamas (a pair of calvin kleins couldn’t be classed as pyjamas, surely?) so she knew that answer was out of the equation. maybe he’d been brushing his teeth super violently. she knows that’s not true when he goes to kiss her cheek as a good morning and she shies away from him with a ”morning breath!” and a playful grimace. he chuckles at her, bending down to pat frankie on the head.

he got frankie’s food ready before even realising he had a plate of eggs and fruit waiting in front of him. he sat at the rather small dining table, pouring them some orange juice and handing her the glass once he’d finished. even gave her a little more than he had, because he always complains she doesn’t get her 5 a day.

he just wants her to feel happy and healthy! can he complain, when she treats him so well and even leaves his eggs on for a whole minute longer than hers because she knows he doesn’t like it when the yellow is all runny? when she takes care of a dog that originally was the shared pup of him and his ex?

he has no time to think before she’s giggling a little, pointing to frankie in the corner of the kitchen who had somehow managed to eat all her food and drink all her water in the space of 2 minutes. he giggled as well, taking a bite of his eggs and calling out a ”good girl” to the beagle.

“yeah, well our ‘good girl’ somehow managed to open my new nail polish and came to me this morning with it in her mouth like it was some sort of present she bought! might have to start calling her father christmas!” she jokes, taking a bite of banana before breaking some off and making a kissy sound to garner frankie’s attention before placing some on the floor next to her for the dog. she did love her banana.

ben places his hand quickly onto his thigh beneath the table after he caught sight of it on top of the tablecloth, hoping she hadn’t noticed how quickly he made the movement. she simply furrows her brows at him, tilting her head as she asked if he was okay.

“yeah, ‘m fine just got a cramp.” he lies straight through his teeth, not being able to look her in the eyes and instead offering frankie a piece of watermelon to frankie, which was unusual for him as he never gave his food to her, claiming it ‘only gives her a bad tummy and then i’m the one who has to clean up all the sick she leaves on the bathroom floor!’, which y/n notices and gives a sigh.

“ben.” she deadpans, setting the banana peel down.

he removes his hand from his leg and sets it upon the table, in a fist originally, before he unclenches his hand and then she sees it. his ring and middle finger nails are painted pink. he looks carefully at her reaction, even though there isn’t much to go off, just a look back to his eyes after she’s seen his hand.

“are you… angry?” he questions, eyes still avoiding hers.

“i’m not angry at you for using my nail polish without telling me ben…” she says with a slight chuckle, her face looking awfully confused, “...what’s mine is yours, and all that.”

his eyes flit to her’s at this, a brow raising as he asks, “so you’re not… weirded out?”

she can’t actually tell if he’s joking or not until she looks at his hands, where he’s nervously pulling at his knuckles in hopes to make them crack. it was one of his worst habits, something he only did when he was really going through it. she realises he must have been embarrassed or feel ashamed when she tells him she wasn’t, if the way his shoulders fell from near enough above his head showed her anything.

she decides he wants to leave the conversation at that when he picks up his fork and begins eating his eggs, looking a hell of a lot less stressed than he did before.

“why were you so sweaty when you came down before?” she questions, though she’s careful to make her tone sound as least judgemental as she possibly can, offering an inquisitive smile at the end.

“i um- wanted to get it off. before you saw it.” he purses his lips before he speaks again. “i couldn’t find any of that horrid-smelling remover stuff so i was trying to scrub it off with that lemon exfoliating shit you’ve got in the shower. worked up quite a sweat.” he chuckled, and she smiled at his first genuine laugh this morning.

“ben, why did you think i’d care so much?” she asks, and she can actually feel a pain in her chest as she realises it must have been eating away at him all night after his reaction to her seeing it. the pain in her chest only deepens when she hears a muttered, “i thought you’d think it was … really weird and like… not normal.” he continues, his voice getting louder and louder as he carried on, “cause it’s like… a girls thing. and i’m not a girl. and i know you’d never think that i was stupid or weird so i don’t even know why it ran through my head cause i did it last night when you went to bed and i was still downstairs… i saw it and i just wanted to put it on me like… for fun. and then i thought you might be angry at me for opening it so i just went to bed but i couldn’t sleep cause i was worried you’d be annoyed at me so i just… spent all night looking at yours. your nails, i mean.” once he’d finished rambling, she reached a hand out to his, pulling him along until they’d settled onto the sofa in the living room.

her on her back against the arm rest, with him on his stomach laying between her legs. maybe not the most flattering position on her part, but she felt closest to him this way. she reached a hand up to his hair, running her fingers through the golden locks before sighing.

“ben, i need you to listen to what im gonna say really closely, yeah?” she whispered.

he nods, and she takes that as her cue to continue.

“it isn’t ‘a girls thing’. and i’m not angry at you, and you’re right, i’d never think you’re weird for doing anything ever. i love you, and i’m in this for the long haul, so speak to me. tell me when you wanna try new things. ‘cause you know i won’t be angry, or annoyed, or weirded out… because it’s you.” she could see his eyes softening as he stared directly into hers.

it felt like he was reaching deep inside her mind and pulling out every honest word he could find. he laid his head down on her stomach, before giving a simple, “i love you.”

“do you want me to paint the rest of them?” she asked after a couple of minutes of stroking through his hair.

“please.” he replied, and she felt his smile on her stomach as he heard frankie pattering through the doorway and coming to lie on ben’s back to join them both. he lifted his head up and formed his lips into a kissy shape, to which she leant down and pecked him.

he followed her into the kitchen to retrieve the nail polish, clapping like an excited kid as she led him upstairs. she walked into the bathroom and sat on the countertop, ben bringing a chair from the bedroom to sit in front of her. she spread her legs and placed his hand flat on the surface of the counter, protected by an old sheet of newspaper in case of a polish accident.

once she’d painted one hand, he rested it on her thigh, only beginning to stroke it once she told him his nails were dry enough. she’d finished his other hand, commending her own painting skills as she skipped the two nails he’d already done the night before, he kissed her thigh, just below where his dry hand sat, before lifting himself off the chair to press a kiss to her forehead, then her left cheek, and finally her lips. she pulled her head back as soon as she felt how dry his lips were, telling him he needed some vaseline.

he looked behind her, seeing her collection of lip products before picking up a familiar tube. it was one she used constantly, which meant it must have been good, which was the reason why he asked her to put some on him a couple of seconds later.

“vaseline isn’t the same as lipgloss, but i’ll let this one slide, my dear.” she chuckles, opening the tube of clear, strawberry scented lipgloss. it had a slight shimmer to it, especially when in the sun, and she was unbelievably excited to see it on him.

“i only picked it cause it tastes nice.” he mentions before she has the chance to apply it.

“ben! you’re not meant to eat it!” she scolds, pulling back and taking the applicator with her.

“i know! i don’t do it purposefully, i just get a mouthful sometimes after you snog me.” he says,

smiling when she laughs.

“yeah, well i think i might have to see just how it tastes the next time we snog, which i have a feeling might be in just a second.” she smirks before applying the gloss.

[eatsleepfuckread]

The Important Things in Life

(also posted on Literotica)

Kink: rather vanilla sex

Warning: sex?

Sentence summary: You make it up to me after messing up my newly painted nails.

Word Count: 3085

             I didn’t often paint my nails; they never lasted and would chip almost immediately. My toenails, however, were always painted. I would paint them every color under the sun, even if it no one except you saw them. They made me happy. Thus, on the few occasions that I did paint my fingernails, especially if I matched them to my toenails, I walked around as if I was in the midst of a mine field. Or as if I were a mummified zombie trying to find my stolen, and cursed, treasure shaped like brains. Given that nail polish and nail polish remover both have a distinct smell, you knew when to stay away. Sometimes, however, the shenanigans you brought me into were worth redoing my nails.

           I had just painted my nails, both sets of ten, and had just placed the top on the bottle. More than solid colors even: one finger on each appendage was a sparkly silver while the others were all a dark grey. I was waiting on my top and final coat to dry, what feels like the longest layer of all, when you sauntered in with a tell-tale gleam in your eyes.

           “No,” I stated firmly, already knowing what was coming. “Noooo, I just painted my nails. Can’t you smell the nail polish. They are perfect! Not a single smudge or missed place. Get away from me with those eyes and grabby hands.”

           I saw the pout forming, slightly dulling your eyes, before it vanished. “What if I tell you that you don’t have to use your feet or your hands and that I will preserve your nails completely?”

           It wasn’t unusual for you to find me and already be in the mood for sex. Nor did it take me very long to get on your level. Often times just telling me what got you worked up, well, worked on me too. Especially if you were teasing me, like now, by palming your length through your sweats (or boxers, or jeans, or even the one time with the suit pants), biting your lip, making bedroom eyes, and subtly flexing your arms (we both know I am a sucker for biceps and forearms). Hardly ever did it take all four tactics to rouse me, but this time I was giving you a run for your money.

           “You told me that a time or two ago about my hair. It took me twenty minutes to put it back together. We ended up not even going too,” at this point I folded my arms across my chest, over my tits, to show a point and hide your staring. If I had known, I would have worn a bra, and more than an oversized hoodie of yours. Hell, probably would have worn a parka if I could have. Painting my nails is a process that should never be interrupted. “So no, turn around and go jack one out in the living room or somewhere away from me and my nails.”

           All of the tactics somehow failing, which had never happened before, I could see your mind whirring with possibilities. Seeing how all four tactics are rarely all used without me giving in, you were having a hard time coming up with a fifth. Seriously, three of the tactics are used generally around when I start my period each month. All four have been used once and that was in the beginning of our relationship when you wanted me to finger your ass as I blew you (you didn’t even need to use them either, I just didn’t want to sound so eager to put my fingers up your butt). I knew I was in trouble when a calm certainty came about, completely sure of yourself, and my inability to deny you anything sexual.

           A quick peak at my nails and the clock next to where I was sitting on our bed proved that my nails were far from dry. Given that I use a super strong top coat in hopes of my nail polish lasting longer, it usually means that it takes three centuries to dry or it needs some special lamp. Of course, I opted for the option of time.

           “Since I’m already in our room, you don’t mind if I sit next to you, right baby girl? I won’t make any attempt to get too close to you or your nails. I will stay on my side of our bed.” With that, you took your time to get to your side, ensuring that I had a perfect view of your dick swaying under your sweats with every step. The lack of a shirt only further aided the view, the dark trail of hair connecting both of my happy places. You weren’t ropes of muscle, but you also weren’t skin and bones either. You were my ideal man. Something which you had every intention of exploiting to your best degree. You furthered my point when you met my eyes and let your sweats drop to the floor before climbing into bed, albeit carefully, to rest your back against the headboard. “See. Not anywhere near your nails. And since he,” with a pointed nod towards your dick, “isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. I assume you don’t mind if I rub one out here.”

           At the sight of my flushed cheeks and parted lips, you knew that I had no intention of answering you, not even if I was forced to. Especially as your right hand went from behind your head, which allowed me a full view of your body, to your dick. You slowly, and loosely, started stroking your dick, the muscles bunching in your arm with each stroke. I was still able to hold out on helping you, but not by much. I saw you facial expression change from calm certainty with a side of arousal to completely confident with a main dish of arousal. You knew you had me. It was just a matter of time.

           “Ohhh, fuck baby. This feels so good,” you moaned out breathlessly. By this point, your pre-cum had leaked out and your stroking did a good job in spreading it around to only aid you. Your hold got tighter, making the sound of your strokes get louder and wetter. You were so confident that you had me, you stopped paying me any attention to focus on your dick. Your head was still against your other arm but now your eyes were closed, lips parted to let out every sound, every harsh exhale as your stroked yourself to completion. Or maybe I wasn’t even needed for this jerk off session. We both had a pretty good memory for our spank banks. This wouldn’t be the first time that either one of us would cum without the other, usually due to schedule conflicts. At that thought, I folded. I hated masturbating by myself, would rather wait until you could join or even just direct, just so that I could feel close to you. Nails could be re-done. Besides, I don’t need my hands to make you cum.

           You didn’t falter in your strokes, nor did you startle when you felt me suddenly move to straddle you. All without hands, too. My pussy was mere inches from where you were stroking your cock, I could almost feel the whooshing of air against my pussy. I had been so busy trying to not give in that I completely ignored my own arousal sings; my nipples were pebbled, noticeable through your hoodie while my pussy was leaking my arousal onto your cock as I hovered, only aiding in your stroking. I fully admit that it doesn’t take much to turn me on, not that I can’t behave, but your tease and how far you pushed me made it ten times worse than usual.

It wasn’t until I started to sink down on your cock that your eyes opened, and your lips briefly went into a smirk before I smothered them with my own. Nipping on your bottom lip, almost in punishment for my lack of a will power when it comes to you. As I bottomed out, quite easily due to how wet and turned on I was, I went from nipping your lips to meeting your tongue with me own. Adjusting to your size, the stretch of your think cock always making it a necessity, I started to grind against your cock followed by lifting my hips and slamming back down. By this time, I knew my toe nails were fucked, if they weren’t messed up from when I straddled you, they were now as I moved my feet every lift of my hips to offer balance. My hands were still half in the air after all, rather comically.

“Good girl,” you murmured to me, having broken off of our kiss. “I was wondering when it would take for you to fold. It’s a shame about your toenails. It’ll be a shame if something happened to your fingernails too.” At the same time, your hands from behind your head, where they went after my pussy swallowed your dick, to my hips. Your hips started to meet my own in a frenzy, your grip on my hips almost too painful as you helped me keep my speed. As I had opened my eyes to meet yours after you broke the kiss, I was able to see the pure animalistic need that appeared as you thoroughly fucked me from the bottom. It seems as though you held off from coming to find me longer than I thought, but in the moment, all I could think was how good your dick felt.

I gave in. Having almost lost balance and fallen off your dick, which we definitely can’t have, I moved my hands from being a mummy to rest on your shoulders, just slightly grasping a hold. This moved my breasts from lightly resting on your chest to help with balance, to out I the open. Something you definitely took notice of at they bounced with every thrust. This only further your need, mine too, as I now got even better leverage to move my hips. Occasionally, I would go against your hold on my hips to grind against your groin. Before allowing you to go back to leading me in the rhythm. Each time your dick bottomed out, your balls slapped against me, adding a slight sting that did nothing but further the knot being created in my stomach.

“Nooo, what are you doing,” I half whimpered, half moaned, as you stopped altogether. “I was enjoying that.” Turning to look at your face, I had been ogling your muscles that were tensing and relaxing from fucking me seconds before, your confidence was back and even more apparent than before. You got me right where you wanted me anyway, begging for your dick, so you had no reason not to be.

“Oh, I know,” cue the half smirk. “But you are going to like this even better.” Not a second after that, you somehow took us from cowgirl to missionary without detaching our connection or further messing up my nails that rested on your shoulders. “Now hold on.”

           And I did. If I thought you were animalistic before, I had no words for how fast and hard you were thrusting into my pussy. The squelch sounds from my pussy only got louder and I could feel a mixture of my wetness and your pre-cum dripping down to make a puddle on the bed. I could only imagine how wet your balls were from slapping into me, which made the feeling of them slapping into me that much greater. My hands on your shoulders went from a loose, I-need-to-balance, hold to a I’m-being-fucked-for-my-life, hold on so I don’t lose my soul. My legs wrapped around your waist, feed resting on top of your ass, feeling how you tightened with each thrust. The ball that slowly dissipated with my disappoint of you stopping came back with a vengeance.  You were supporting your weight on your arms, allowing a gap between us, feasting your eyes on my tits that had their own jiggling in mind, occasionally looking down at my stomach that was jiggling just the same. You had the perfect body in my eyes, and somehow, you always said that I had the perfect body in your eyes, regardless of my jiggly parts. Rather than feeling self-conscious, I let the feeling of possession and love take over me, in between the tightening of my lower stomach.

           When your dick buried into me at the hilt each thrust, I moaned out, “I’m. About. To. Cum. Don’t. Stop.” What did you do? You stopped completely, not moving an inch. Pressing your hips against mine to stop me from bringing about my own orgasm. You brought your arms from pressing against the bed on either side of me to under my head, ignoring my whining and begging to please move all the while. After what felt like years of struggling for some kind of friction, I gave up with a huff. “I was so fucking close babe. Why?”

           This brought your attention up from where you were staring at my tits, to my face, giving you a slight smolder. “Well, seeing as how you didn’t want to have sex in the beginning, I didn’t think you would mind not having an orgasm either. After all, aren’t your nails more important?”

           I couldn’t tell if you were trying to appear innocent or just plain old furthering an agenda that I have no doubt you planned at this point.

           “Yes. I know. You know. But not want now they aren’t and I want to orgasm on your cock. Then I want you to call me your dirty little slut as you fill my pussy up with your cum. Then we are going to cuddle and I will give you all of the attention you can handle until you are ready to go again. Then we can have nice lazy sex to make up for both of our rudeness.” In my head, my words had backbone, they were words from a strong independent woman who didn’t need a man to cum. In reality, however, they were barely more than a plea for mercy hoping you took pity on me.

           “Hmmm. I don’t know. I don’t think bad girls,” you emphasized the last two words with two harsh thrusts, “should get what they want. So how about this. I’m going to fuck you until I cum and if you cum too, great. If not, well, I guess you have to mess your nails up further, huh? With how tight your pussy is right now, I wouldn’t doubt that you were still on the edge, I know I am. Now gimme a kiss and hold on.”

           I had been well and truly defeated. You definitely won this round of wills. So I offered my lips up for you to dominate and gripped your shoulders for dear life. The thrusts that I thought were animalistic were nothing compared to how your cock felt diving into my pussy. In hindsight, you were thrusting fast, yes, but not your full length. This time, though, I’m pretty sure I’ll need a band-aid for my cervix after the pounding your cock puts it through. I was getting your full length over and over and I could do nothing but hold on. There was no lifting my hips to match your pace, none of that. I was there to receive whatever pleasure you deemed fit to allow me and bring you to cum. Judging by the drool enticing kiss you somehow managed to keep up with, you weren’t not trying to prevent my orgasm. Just the opposite really. I knew I was done for when one of your hands moved from cradling my head to putting pressure on my throat. If I ever had any reason to doubt that you knew my body, every time we had sex and you somehow knew just the right thing to make cum restarted my thinking.

           “Mmm, that’s baby. Cum on my cock, clench your little pussy on my cock as it pounds into you. Are you gonna squirt? I think you might. My little slut is gonna squirt just from having her greedy cunt filled. So sensitive.”

           “Ohhh fuck. Oh fuck,” I moaned, if not screamed. “Yes, yes, yes. Please, please. Please.” Whatever rhythm you had before was gone. My hips were uncontrollably fucking myself on your cock and, as I could feel your balls tighten and dick start to twitch, I knew you were done for too. As the nice person I am, I decided to help you, “Ohh, yes. I want your cum inside me. Cum in your slut’s pussy. Yesssss,” I hissed out as I felt your cum shoot out with each sharp thrust into my pussy. Judging by how wet we both were, there was little doubt of me squirting and even surprise as the amount of cum that you pumped into my pussy, only for it to leak out with the softer thrusts following out big climaxes.

What cultivated over who knows how long by yourself, a good half an hour of teasing alone, and an immeasurable amount of time of fucking, both our orgasms felt that they took eons to fully pass over us. Leaving us in the aftermath of sweat, cum, and pussy juices. Even though both of our bodies needed a shower, neither of us wanted to move from where we found ourselves; your dick softening inside of me while your arms wrapped around my waist with your head on my chest, your full weight offering me the comfort only you can bring. Our legs were tangled, although mine barely reached your knee with our height differences and positions. Not even paying mind to my sure to be messed finger nails, I was lightly running my nails over your scalp and back, or what I could reach of your back, before continuing the path.

Although both of us enjoyed our positions immensely, the drying juices were starting to get uncomfortable. You popped your head up to look at me, “Wanna take a bath with me? I will show you how a man does his woman’s finger-nails.”

At my slow grin and heavy eye-lids, you had your answer. And a promise for a second round. Maybe even a third, depending on how well you can paint.

[seimeinotaka]

Polished (Vil x MC Fic)

(Cross-posted from AO3)

Set after the Pomefiore arc, Ann is trying to paint her nails, but isn’t doing a good job at not painting her finger. (Un)fortunately for her, Vil happens to find her terrible handiwork and decides to give her a lesson, whether she wants it or not, full of scathing commentary.

Thanks to polyphenols@AO3 for beta-reading this and for the suggestion for the title!

-

Ann was sitting under her favorite tree, back against the trunk as she pressed the nail polish brush against her nail, the red bottle of polish carefully placed on top of her notebook. Was it absolutely risky? Yes, it was a terrible idea. However, doing her nails in her dorm, the seemingly logical place, proved to be even worse. With Grim demanding attention and constantly causing ruckus with the other ghosts, her attempts at painting her nails ended with smudges and marks, sometimes even some of Grim’s hair, to her dismay.

Outside, while still at extreme peril, her nails could dry faster with the gentle breeze.

Though, if someone was standing in front of her, their long slender legs just coming into view, her plan would be thwarted.

"What are you doing, Potato?" Vil’s voice gave away the identity of her breeze blocker, causing her to look up to his unamused expression.

"Painting my nails?" she replied, raising her hand so he could see her work, in case the smell of the polish wasn’t obvious.

What she didn’t expect was for him to pull her hand, so he could actually get a good look at it and her extremely messy handiwork, with splotches of red both on the nail and all around her skin.

"I thought you were painting your nails, not your finger," he replied curtly. Oh right, he painted his nails too, and he was fussy to boot.

"It's ok, it'll wash off when I shower," she said, not giving much thought to his judgmental tone and disapproving frown.

"You're wasting product. Wait, have you used a primer already?"

"A what?" She asked, slightly confused. Primers were used… when painting wood and other materials, as far as she knew. Though she wasn’t that knowledgeable in the art of make-up, barely wearing it before arriving at Twisted Wonderland, and not really being able to afford it until recently. She just wanted to paint her nails. It wasn’t rocket science.

However, it seemed it was rocket science, as Vil’s exasperated sigh let her know of his extreme disdain and disapproval of her methods. "Are you really this helpless?" She looked blankly at him. "Come with me."

And by come, he actually meant get up, as he yanked her arm, forcing her to stand up and pick up her things in a hurry, so that he could then drag her all the way to Pomefiore’s dorm.

-

"Eh,” Ann didn’t even know how to begin, as she looked around at the elegant ornaments and expensive-looking furniture, something out of league compared to the humble lodging of her dear hobo room. “Why are we in your room?"

"Listen well, I am not going to repeat myself nor allow you to make a disaster on your hands," Vil stated, with that tone of his that he was going to give her a lesson, whether she wanted it or not.

"He totally ignored me..." she mumbled, giving his room a short last look, before turning to her now sudden beauty teacher who was eager to smack her for getting distracted.

"To paint your nails, you need 3 items, a primer, your polish and your top coat. This product you got is no good, please replace it as soon as possible."

"But I like the color...." Ok, it was a cheap polish, but it would do the trick, for her.

"I can make you one more impressive than this if you really wanted, the problem is the color doesn't suit you, but stop straying off topic, potato. Give me your hand, I'll erase this hideousness you call nail painting."

Yanking her hands again, he cleaned both with a face wipe before inserting her fingers into a fancy looking cylinder reeking of acetone. The cold liquid touched her skin and her nail, as he scrubbed it slightly before taking her finger out, polish vanished. She arched her eyebrows, she didn’t know they made funky objects like that, her surprise causing Vil to shake his head.

"Remember to treat your hands with cream after removing nail polish and your manicure. Knowing you, you're going to spread the acetone not only on your nail but half of your finger."

‘His hands are really warm and soft...’ she thought to herself, seeing how he wasn’t wearing his gloves, skin against skin. Of course, they would be soft, he would never let his hands be ruined, as evidenced by his perfect manicure, but they were really nice to touch, or be touched by in her case.

"This is a primer, I would have expected you to know this since you are in the Art elective, what am I going to do with you?” Ann bit her tongue. “You put it first as your base coat. Not only will it help the polish stick to your nail, as the oils in your fingers would hinder this normally, but in the case of uneven edges in your nails, the base coat will give them a smooth look. If you are wearing a dark polish, it will prevent your nails from being colored by it."

With elegant and tender movements, unlike his stern voice and possible incoming smacking, Vil applied the primer on her nails, on both hands.

‘He is really skilled, it looks so easy when he does it.’

"Stop gawking at me, I am aware I am blinding you but make an effort to focus on the lesson at hand."

"Yes, yes, Vil-senpai. Teach me your ways." Ann rolled her eyes, but didn’t stifle a dreamy smile.

He huffed, as he sent her a chiding glare. "I wish I could be as cocky as you when you have no idea of what you're doing to your nails. Make sure you use long strokes, from the bottom of the nail to the top. Spread it even."

She was enjoying herself too much in spite of or perhaps because of his cocky scolding.

Vil carefully set the base coat aside and picked a charming long bottle with an exquisite purple liquid inside. He rolled it gently in between his hands as he continued his lesson. "Base coat shouldn't take long to dry, and you shouldn't use more than one coat. After that, you can use your color polish. Make sure to roll it like this before using it, don’t shake it.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll cause bubbles to form in your polish. Are you always this careless with your belongings?”

“Are you always this fussy with your belongings?” she mocked his tone. “For the record, I am careful with my things. I just didn’t think shaking the bottle would be that bad.”

“Who had a mess on her hands fifteen minutes ago?”

“Okay, okay, I got it. No shaking the bottle.”

Vil ignored the playful tone of her words with a stern poker face. However, the touch of his hands against hers remained as gentle as ever. “This part is the longest of the process, make sure to do it well. Depending on the brand and the quality of your polish, you might need more than two coats. Don't be tempted to put one thick coat, it will take longer to dry and you are at a higher risk of ruining your work. Thinner coats are always the way to go."

"When you're spreading the polish, you need to do even strokes. Avoid pressing the brush too hard. Now, we need a second coat, so you have to apply the next one only after the first is perfectly dry. Do not even think of using your finger to check or I'll smack you."

"Why not? If you press it lightly, it should be ok."

He sighed. "But if it's not dry, you will leave your fingerprint or you can smudge the color. You should touch your pinky nails together, gently. If they seem to stick, you obviously need to wait longer. Only do this when you are sure it's dry. Yes, this means you have to be patient, potato."

"Sometimes you test my patience too much, Vil-senpai," she replied dryly with an equally dry and stiff smile at him.

"Bold of you to snark at me like that. The things that are worth most are those that need time, patience, and effort, you should always remember this."

His voice was stern, but there was a hidden warmth beneath his words that brought a gentle, cheeky smile to her face. She could feel his eyes on her for a moment, but when she looked up, he was already looking away.

"Make sure you use a sufficient amount of polish, and get rid of the excess on the rim of the bottle. Apply it in 3 stripes, middle first and then to the sides. Don't paint your cuticle or the skin to the side of your nails. Obviously, this will be more difficult with your left hand, so do your best to practice often."

"Three stripes, thin coats, wait between them. Got it."

At least with him next to her, holding her hands like this, the wait was more than welcome. Of course, she couldn’t say this aloud, but that didn’t stop her face from brightening at this thought.

"You seem quite pleased with yourself, even if I have done most of the legwork."

"You made this class very entertaining, Vil-senpai. Your scathing remarks included." She gave him a bright smile, though he merely huffed at her.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere."

"I'm wounded, thinking I want to butter you up. I'm not Cater, and this tongue of mine is incapable of doing it anyway. You should know already that it's not my style."

"That is one of your good points, potato. At least you are honest with me," he said with a smile, the first time in the entire session. It wasn’t a smirk or a chiding one, but a soft one that made her heart skip a beat.

And of course, she replied with a cheeky laugh.

"But that is too little to be proud of yourself. Next is the top coat.”

"Damn, you like to shoot me down," she mumbled but Vil ignored her as he picked the final polish bottle and rolled it gently between his hands.

"Some say that the top coat isn't always necessary, but why would you compromise on something after all the time you've put into this? The top coat will prevent your nails from chipping, and it helps the polish last longer. Some can even give your nails a finishing look, whether you want them to shine or have a matte look. Similar to the base coat, you only need to apply it once. Again, thin coat, you don't want to overdo it and mess up all your hard work."

And with those words, he carefully spread the top coat on her fingers, with her eyes glued to every movement of his hands.

"So, is that it? It somehow doesn't seem too bad," she said, once her nails were shining thanks to the top coat.

"We are done because I was painting your nails, potato. However, you will need to do another step, which is cleaning your fingers."

"When you shower, the polish on your fingers falls off, that's the cleaning ste-” he smacked her head- “Why!?"

He gave her a dismissive look. "Do you intend to go around class with your messy fingers? You should always look presentable. If I ever see your fingers with nail polish smeared on them, I will give you an adequate punishment."

"Who says I'll let you see?"

"Do you enjoy testing people's limits? If needed, I'll have you show me your hands every day and if I cannot, Rook will check up on you."

"...What was the adequate method?"

"Much better.” He had a winning smirk, and as much as he seemed to complain about it, it almost looked like he was also enjoying himself. “There are different ways, but the easiest for you is to use a cotton swab with polish remover. Of course, this needs you to have a steady hand as you erase your mistakes. There are corrector pens too, but it will be cheaper for you to use a Q-tip instead, and much easier and cheaper if you just learn to do it properly."

"Excuse me for being poor in this world I was suddenly thrust into," she rolled her eyes but then focused on her hands.

Perfectly painted nails, shiny deep purple, no smudges or marks of fingers like she would always have them whenever she tried, which wasn’t so often. They looked professional, though Vil was a professional, so he wouldn’t do anything but perfection.

"They've never looked this pretty in my life, thank you, Vil-senpai!" She was beaming as she switched between admiring her nails and him.

"Never? That sounds depressing.” He folded his arms and shrugged nonchalantly. “It was a simple manicure, I didn't even fix your nails and cuticles."

"That's okay!” she replied, shaking her head. “And we match in colors!"

"We only do because I picked that bottle. Don't think too much about it."

"Hehe, perhaps, but I really like your colors. I like..."

"Purple, yes I know. You've made it clear in your Magicam account."

"Does that mean you've checked my-"

"Absolutely not."

Whatever he said, and no matter what he would later add, nothing would erase that bright infuriating smile from her face. Cheeky, and so blinding that it made him turn his eyes away.

"Well, sure sure, Vil-senpai! I have to go back to my dorm, but thank you again!" she said brightly, waving at him happily before rushing outside of his room, almost beaming.

"Hey, don't run insi- Ah, she already left. Seriously, what am I going to do with you?" He muttered to himself, as he brought the hand which had held hers the entire time to his face. Cheeks flushing pink, he closed his eyes for a moment as his lips pressed against the faint traces of her warmth.

As Ann ran to her dorm, she pressed her hands over her chest, heart beating loudly, as she kept thinking of his gentle warm hands.

-

This was written based on my own personal experience. I tried painting my nails purple so Halloween Vil would come home. However, I’m not good at not painting my finger, so I imagined Vil would make a big fuss if Ann had the similar problem.

Thank you for reading!

[duchessfics]

The Case of the Sweater Thief

(https://ahscovenapocalypse.tumblr.com/post/181426577063/fishkreizler-cordelia-goode-ahs)

(https://lauramaher25.tumblr.com/post/179881206546/ahs-ms-wilihemina-venable-fire-and-reign)

Cordelia x Fem!Reader x Wilhemina

Warning(s): Nothing except an excessive amount of fluff :) 

Summary: Now that it’s fall, you keep wearing your girlfriends’ sweaters. So they send you out to get some of your own, but you get a little sidetracked and end up with other items instead.

Word Count: 2125

A/n: Since it’s six(ish) weeks until Halloween, I thought I would post some fall-based, short one-shots (get it, six cause that’s the “devil’s number???”...I’ll go home now) Anyways these will be shorter than some of my other works, but I thought it would be to do some seasonal writing.

This first prompt came from @prompts-for-the-otp: 

“Person A, tired of Person B stealing all their hoodies whenever fall comes (though they admit that B does look adorable in those oversized hoodies), gives Person B money to buy their own jackets. Person B ends up coming home with like 5 pumpkin spice drinks from the Starbucks inside the Target where they was supposed to buy a jacket. Person A is surprised and a bit amused. They end up cuddling on the couch while drinking pumpkin spice lattes and watching Halloween movies. B is still wearing A’s hoodie, but A doesn’t really mind anymore.”

(Here is the link to the original post, [https://prompts-for-the-otp.tumblr.com/post/166004248858/prompt-167]  this is NOT my original idea so show some love ;)) 

A knock on the door makes Cordelia look up from her paperwork on the desk and answer, “Come in.” Then one of her girlfriends steps in, her pastel lavender dress and scarlet red hair immaculate. Cordelia removes her glasses and Wilhemina says, “We need to do something about y/n.” Wilhemina remains standing, placing both hands on the top of her cane as she looks down to the supreme. “I’m not sure what you mean.” Cordelia answers with furrowed brows. The redhead’s exterior softens as she looks into Cordelia’s golden eyes and she says, “She can’t seem to stop stealing our sweaters and wears them all-around the school so everyone can see.” Cordelia looks down and arranges her papers to hide her smile as she asks, “Did something provoke this, darling?” Wilhemina’s nostrils flare as she heatedly replies, “She took one of my sweaters and is out flaunting around with it in front of everyone!” Cordelia returns her gaze up to the towering witch and soothes, “I’ll take care of it.” Wilhemina’s dark lips give a hint of a smile and she murmurs a soft thank you.

Then as she steps to the door, Cordelia calls out Wilhemina’s name, making the woman stop and look back. The supreme’s lips form into a smirk as she teases, “Just out of curiosity, were you going to wear that sweater today?” Her pale cheeks turn a light pink and she answers, “Well…no. But it’s the principle of it.” Cordelia chuckles and murmurs, “I’ll get your sweaters back, my dear.” Wilhemina straightens up and makes a confident stride out to her own office. Then Cordelia pulls out a $50 bill from her wallet before writing a note, 

“Y/n, how about you go out and get yourself some sweaters for fall. Here’s some money and don’t forget to use my reusable bags for your items. Yours, C.” 

Then she steps out and places the note and money on the countertop. Once that’s finished, she heads back to her office and returns to her work…

 Instead of you coming in to speak to either of your girlfriends, drawing them out of their work, both women continue to work in their respective offices until Zoe comes to tell each of them dinner is ready. However, Cordelia becomes concerned when she enters the dining room and you are nowhere to be found. “Have any of you seen y/n?” She asks the group of witches gathered around. The girls look around and Mallory says, “I think she went out to Target.” Cordelia pulls out her phone and softly says, “Maybe I should call her.” But Wilhemina comes up beside her and softly soothes, “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s not a child and will probably be home soon.” Cordelia looks to her and lets out a sigh before admitting, “You’re right.” Then she replaces her phone in her pocket. Wilhemina sneaks her hand down to intertwine her fingers with Cordelia’s and they all sit down to eat dinner.

Everyone eats until they are more than full, but you still aren’t home, making Cordelia unsettled. As the girls begin to clean up from dinner, Wilhemina softly murmurs, “How about you text her? I’m sure she will be here any minute.” The blonde nods and pulls out her phone. However, before she even begins typing you enter with a drink holder and two of Cordelia’s reusable bags full of items. You smile and come up to your lovely girlfriends, giving Cordelia a peck on the cheek before sneaking a kiss on Wilhemina’s cheek. Cordelia lets out a soft chuckle at the way Wilhemina’s cheeks turn a rosy pink. Then she says, “Why don’t we go upstairs and see what you got?” You eagerly nod with a broad smile on your face as your excitement bursts at the seams. Cordelia wishes everyone good night before you three head upstairs.

Once you get to your room, you let out a squeak of excitement and Wilhemina closes the door as Cordelia takes a seat on the edge of the bed. Wilhemina joins her and you set the bags and drink carrier down, chirping, “The Target was completely remodeled so I took a lot longer than I planned.” Then you pull out two paper coffee cups and hand them to the women as you say, “There’s a Starbucks at Target now. So, I had to get us some pumpkin spice lattes to, you know, get in the fall spirit. I already drank mine.” They take the cups and Cordelia takes a drink before smiling and murmuring, “This does taste good. Thank you, sweetheart.” You give her a smile and step back to the bags, saying, “And when I was in line to buy those, I saw something too cute to pass on.” Then you pull out the cardboard box with the Starbuck’s logo, opening it as you say, “They had this mug,” and you pull it out revealing the item to them as you squeal, “and it looks like a pumpkin!” Both sets of eyes watch as you come up and hold out the mug. “Isn’t it cute?” You coo. Cordelia takes the mug and turns it over as she replies with a smile, “It is.” You melt under her smile and bite your lip, looking to the quiet red head who eyes down the mug with narrowed eyes.

You pause and watch her, uncertain, but Cordelia’s warm voice says, “What else did you get, sweetheart?” So, you return to face her and reply, “Since the whole store was redone, I wasn’t sure where the clothing section was, so I walked around and ended up in the Halloween section.” You go back to the bags and explain, “I almost made it all the way through when I saw this darling little thing.” Then you pull out a medium-sized stuffed animal that’s a black cat with a little witch’s hat. You give it a little pet and hold onto the soft, plush animal while you reach into the bag and say, “I saw something that made me think of you, Mina.” Her eyes widen, making you smile as you pull the item out. “There was this deep plum, almost black nail polish with purple glitter flecks.” She opens her mouth to say something, but you put up your hands before saying, “I know you don’t normally wear nail polish, but I thought we could use it when doing pedicures because…” Then you pull out a set of pumpkin spice scented body scrub and lotion. Your hands are full as you keep a hold of the cat, the nail polish, and the bottles of lotion and scrub, but you happily chirp, “I found these!” You carry the nail polish and skin products over to the witch in purple so she can see them up close. Cordelia smirks at a clearly shocked Wilhemina while you watch and grin.

After a moment, you take Cordelia’s hand with the arm that doesn’t hold the cat and say, “And don’t worry I didn’t forget about you, Delia.” She chuckles and her eyes glow as she murmurs, “I wouldn’t dream of it. What did you get for me, sweet girl?” You giggle and let go of her hand so you can return to the bags. “I know coffee isn’t your favorite beverage, so I was looking at the different tea options and found a pumpkin spice flavored tea!” You pull out the tin and open the lid before inhaling the scent of the loose-leaf tea mixture. “It smells amazing.” You tell her before handing off the item. You pull out the last item, telling Cordelia, “And I found something else for you.” Her eyebrow raises as you hold up the item and chirp, “It’s socks! With little teacups on them!” She chuckles and accepts the socks and this time you stay close to them, still holding the black cat in your arms. “I know the note said to buy sweaters, but I saw these different things and you both have done so much for me. So, I really wanted to get something special for you both.” You finish your statement and glance at Wilhemina who seems very quiet. Your hands nervously fist the warm, plum-colored sweater and you ask, “You—you like it, right?” While you search Wilhemina’s face, Cordelia also looks, nervous about her reaction. The red head holds the items up and looks to you with warm eyes as she murmurs, “I like them. That…that was very kind of you.” You let out the breath you were holding and smile at the praise, releasing the chokehold you had your poor cat in.

Then you look to Cordelia and she cups your face with her hand before saying with a smile, “I love them. Thank you, my sweet girl.” You blush and stammer, “Y-You’re welcome.” Then you bring the sleeves of the dark purple sweater you have on and ask, “Do you think we could possibly watch a Halloween movie together?” The blonde smiles and murmurs, “Of course. You pick one out and we will get into something more comfortable.” You back up to let them stand and Cordelia begins to walk to the closet. However, Wilhemina places a hand on your shoulder, making you look back to her. She gives you a small smile and murmurs, “Thank you for the nail polish and set of scrub and lotion, darling.” You grin up at her and reply, “You’re welcome.” Then she gives you a kiss, lingering on your lips a couple moments before walking over to the closet.

While they are changing, you pull out your laptop and place it on a bed tray towards the end of the bed. Then you pick out your favorite Halloween movie and slip off your jeans before sliding under the covers and arranging the pillows so you all can lean on them, keeping your new stuffed animal by your side. They both come out, Cordelia wearing a black lace negligee that falls about mid-thigh and Wilhemina wearing a matching set of royal purple silk pajama pants and tee. The blonde climbs in first, snuggling in beside you and kissing your cheek making you giggle and blush. Then Wilhemina comes up on the bed, but you both are shocked as Cordelia takes the red-head’s hand directing her to sit in the supreme’s lap. Wilhemina freezes up and her eyes go cold, but you keep quiet, knowing that the only one who dares to tell Miss Venable what to do is Cordelia. “Come now, Mina,” Cordelia purrs, knowing that nickname makes her melt, “a little cuddling won’t hurt anybody.” Her eyes flick between you and Cordelia and she withdraws her hand from Cordelia’s grip. In a low voice she grumbles, “If you get too handsy I will find somewhere else to sit.” Then she slowly eases back into Cordelia’s chest, still very stiff. Once she is seated, the blonde merely takes Wilhemina’s hand and rubs soothing circles over the top of it with her thumb.

You look to them both and ask, “Ready?” They both nod and say yes so you start the movie before leaning back and snuggling into Cordelia’s side as her arm wraps around your waist and keeps you and your stuffed animal close. As the movie continues, you notice that Wilhemina relaxes into the supreme’s embrace and doesn’t protest when Cordelia places her other arm around Wilhemina’s waist. You and Cordelia share a knowing look, but don’t say anything, not wanting to ruin the moment. Meanwhile both women keep sipping on their pumpkin spice lattes and as you stay close to Cordelia’s warm body, you find your eyelids getting heavy. Wilhemina seems to notice and asks, “Do you want to turn off the movie?” Immediately you perk up and shake your head as you say, “No! I’m awake, I promise.” They both chuckle and Cordelia soothes, “It’s okay, we’ll keep watching, darling.” You let out a sigh of relief and relax back into your original position. However, your drowsiness does win out, and you fall asleep with your head resting on Cordelia’s shoulder.

Once the movie stops playing, Wilhemina lets out a sigh and softly murmurs, “She’s asleep, isn’t she?” Cordelia chuckles and replies, “Yep.” Then she pauses, gently running her fingers through your hair as she says, “So much for her getting new sweaters.” Wilhemina glances at your sleeping figure and replies, “I don’t wear those old things anyways. It’s better for them to get some use than to just sit in the closet.” Cordelia giggles, knowing you can make Wilhemina cave without you even realizing it. Then they put the laptop and tray beside the bed before they both snuggle under the covers and fall asleep beside you.        

Tagged: @marilynroselleprentiss, @saviorinsilk, @chokemepaulson, @versonstar 

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in later works!

[musingsofanunser]

𝚁𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗’ 𝚘𝚗 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗’.

As yet another bullet blurred past his ear with what seemed a mere fraction of an inch from his ear, Chez wondered how his afternoon had gone so south with such a sudden ferocity.

What had started with such promise, had quickly turned shit.

His day had begun pretty serenely with a shift at Teller- Morrow. The work hadn't taken as long as expected, which was a positive for him, not so much for Gemma. Meaning that the labour charge was gonna be less, but that's the dealio. Chez Grazer had absolutely no doubt the fierce matriarch, or his Uncle Fallon would find another million things for him to do until something else booked in or he was needed elsewhere.

Once wheeled free from under the chassis of an old Renault, a tatted rag soaks up the excess oil as the tall tattooed mechanic rubs each finger singularly. The prospects eyeline takes in the perfectly aligned row of Harleys. The highly buffed polish of each one reflecting with the bright glints of Californian sunshine.

With an earth shattering roar of engines, they had perfectly filed in through the gate around an hour ago. Each member dismounting gracefully before removing helmets and gloves, then trooping into the clubhouse. Possibly for Church.

Not being a full member, he wasn’t privy to such information, only allowed to bask in the presence of Church to either clean or sit at the back of the room during matters of great importance.

Or at least that is what he had been told. To date his only visits had been to empty ashtrays and wax the beautiful and painstakingly carved table.

He’d get there.

..𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦.

The club was in his blood. Part of the family DNA. Some might say he was following his Fathers footstep out of obligation to his memory. Especially given that Wally was an original, a First Nine.

It was so much more than that.

Sure, every son wants to make their Pap proud, but for Chez this was a life path he’d chosen for his own gains.

Given that their Uncle Fallon, his Da’s biological brother had raised him and Taylor since Wally’s untimely death, - who had then went on to also join the club, this outlaw life was doubly engrained in the young Grazer. The final male heir left to carry the honour.

- he 𝘩𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑑.

Chez wanted the bike and everything that came with it.

The brotherhood. The danger, death, destruction and adrenaline.

He was aware that the club had migrated away from the first nine’s ideal of what they desired for SAMCRO, but in his eyes, this was everything it should be. In his opinion, they served and protected the community better than any damn police department.

The babes, tits and ass on tap was also a undeniably huge draw.

Hanging around the club as soon as he could walk, club kids became accustomed to the sexualised nature of what was entailed within its walls and once he’d been awarded his Reaper patch, it would be a world that was laid at his feet too.

But for now, his life comprised of fishing panties out from the back of sofas, U-bends and general day to day stupid shit that the guys can think up, combined with the menial ass jobs no fucker wants.

Chez knew with absolutely certainty it was a test. Not only to prove his worthiness and loyalty to the club, but his commitment and bond to the guys. Being a son of a SON meant absolute shit when it came to being patched in. He would be patched in /if/voted suitable. On his own merits. Not his Father’s. Or his Uncles.. and Grazer Jr wouldn’t have wished it any other way.

If he was in need of extra resolution at any time, Chez would take Wally’s rings from the drawer in which he kept them, slip them on to his own fingers and draw strength. Remembering the amount of times his then much smaller hands held them, dreaming of becoming a SON as they swung around child sized fingers. Taylor has given him them as his own when he was accepted as a Prospect, with some little speech about how proud Dad would’ve been. They fit now and soon he would earn the privilege to wear them and the Reaper.

Hey, Dilly day dream...’ The snappish retort causing Chez’s head to swing around and meet the scrutinising, levelling glare of Gemma as she stands mere feet away. A single denim clad hip jutted out to the side, being the resting place to a set of perfectly manicured nails. Although he struggled to steer his direction of gaze anyway other than ample and exposed chest.

I’m gonna imagine you’re dreamy of some big titties and got lost a little there. Staring off in the distance like some school girl with a crush.” Not pausing for breath in order to grant him an opportunity to reply, she continues on in the same breath. ‘..Here..” the free hand waving a twenty dollar bill towards his nose.

“Go get me coffee and a donut, darlin’. I need the sugar today. Calories be damned.’

“Sure, Gem.”

Snatching the money free from her fingers, the oiled rag is tossed carelessly into the tool box below, as the prospect sets about doing as instructed.

The chick at the coffee house was pretty hot, so Chez didn’t mind this particular errand at all.

‘...and don’t take all fuckin’ day, Romeo. They need you in the clubhouse when you get back.’

...comes the call from the office as he rounds the gates of the compound, offering the matriarch - who is casually leaning against the wooden jam of the door, a cheeky salute of finger to forehead before disappearing out of sight.

After a very pleasant chat with Carla from the coffee place and having been successful (was there really any doubt.) in securing her number, Chez dropped the sugary goods to Gemma in the office and made his way to the clubhouse as instructed.

He was stood behind the bar as the brothers completed their church meeting, hearing the clack of the gavel before they all began filing out the double doors. Chez dutifully laid a varying selection of liquors and glasses out on the worn, wooden bar surface and with a curious glance, he quickly deduced that the meeting had went well and this was a cause for celebration.

Gloria, an eater who was hanging around on the off chance of being able to provide some entertainment of the naked kind, was also party to this deduction and the younger Grazer’s mouth raised into a one sided smirk as he saw the retrieval of her cell from the secured seat of her bra. Soon the place would be crawling with gash.

Sa-ᴡᴇᴇᴛ﹗

‘Well done, kid.’ His sponsor praised whilst reaching to retrieve an already poured measured.

‘Keep ‘em coming. We’re about to make a good packet. It’s cause for celebration.’

As he holds a shot glass in between his own thumb and forefinger, Chez raises it in silent salute before slinging it backwards in unison to Tig. The familiar after burn and harsh taste as it slides downwards causing the slightest of winces, having become accustomed to the hard liquor.

“I’m down with that, yo.”

Shortly after, the rest of the CroEaters arrive and the party suddenly becomes a rager. In light of this, Luanne’s call to Jax is treated as somewhat of an inconvenience by the Vice President, who is currently undressing the youngest of the eaters as she sits on his lap. Having to pause in lifting her blouse above her head in order to flip his cell, the tousled, dirtyhaired blonde dutifully obliges in carrying on with the removal of her upper body garments, bra included, as her companions attentions are drawn elsewhere.

Sure Lu. Someone will be right over. Don’t worry....’ the words spoken with total disinterest as he roughly palms a breast. ‘..we’ll sort it.’

Without a glance in the Scots direction, the burner is flipped shut and placed on the table alongside him. ‘Luanne has got some stalker problem at Cara.’

The gruff instruction given whilst Teller’s eyes remain firmly on the breasts infront is him. ‘...go sort it would ya, Chibs?’

A darting glance of interest has Chez’s hopeful expression now landing on a highly amused solider. The slightly bedraggled Scotsman beginning to rise from his chair, cigarette hanging from his lips as a light laugh sounds.

‘Aye. I see yer, Chezza. You an’ yer wee puppy eyes. Yer can come.’

That was all the young prospect needed. With another flash of glass to lips, a third measure of whiskey is fired back before snatching up the box of smokes that he’d laid on the bar. Replacing the glass for his keys.

“Sure thing, Chibs. That’d be awesome.”

‘Who knows. Maybe one o’these lassies might offer ye a wee blowie, in thanks for ridin’ in like a fool in tinfoil, ey?’

The two leather clad males leaving to a raucous round of laughter as they head outside towards the brilliant Californian sunshine and their awaiting bikes.

As they ready themselves to leave the lot, Chibs placing on his gloves, Chez puting the key in the ignition of his shitty Yamaha, not yet having earned his Harley, he enquirers as to why Luanne needed help.

‘I guess we’ll find out soon enough. Cannae be tha’bad, surely. Somethin’ aboot a stalker or some shite. Let’s go see, aye?’

With the roar of two ignitions lighting and kick stands being removed, further conversation comes to a halt as they head towards the film studios. Once there, a flurry of panicked screams and incoherent chittering reaches their hearing once the bikes have been silenced.

‘Well, looksie, here.’ Chez couldn’t help but notice the two motorcycles that had Mayans wrote all over them, not needing his older brother to make reference to them.

“What the fuck are they doing here?.”

Instantly his mind flashes back to the altercation between him, Tig, Taylor and the two Mexicans he shot. - Fuck.

As a look of careful agreement is expressed and acknowledged between the two males, they withdrew their weapons in symmetrical movements. Almost as if practiced.

Quickly motioning for Chez to enter via the side door, Chibs enters to the front.

Well practised in the art of making a surprise entrance, the two males enter at precisely the same time. Guns raised and fully loaded as Chibs calls out a cheery greeting.

‘Well then, what do we have ‘ere? Looks like a party we werne’ invited to, Chezzy.’

Calculating the risks as he readies his response, Chez locates two lone Mexicans. One with a pistol to Lyla’s head, the other holding Luanne to a makeshift bed with a throat choking hold.

“Most Fuckin’ rude.. bastards need taught some manners on how to treat women.”

The rage still burning from how they had kidnapped and mistreated Taylor, the younger brother could feel the red mist rising as he took in the scene before him. Was this a retaliation on their part?

The Mayans also were surveying the new surroundings and Chez visibly saw them panic. They had to execute caution, or one of the girls could quite easily end up being shot.

Having his eyeline meet with Lyla’s it’s obvious she’s been waiting to catch it. Signalling him downwards to the three fingers extended and splayed against her hip, the prospect clearly understood the gesture. A flashing glance to Chibs tells him he understands and is on board.

Causing a distraction being a special talent of his, he begins to talk utter shite as Chez returns Lyla’s instigation with single raised finger. That’s the count of one. Silently, they inwardly sound the following two numbers then as if in a practised synchronicity, the porn star and Opie’s old lady proceeds to lift a stilettoed heel to her captors shin, followed by a lightening strike of elbow to throat. Both of these momentarily drawing his attention from his loaded gun to her temple. That’s all Grazer needed. As Lyla ducks, the Mayan receives a shot to the upper chest.

One down.

The second was now fumbling to maintain a hold on Luanne and somehow get his gun. The porn director used this advantage to the best of her ability and shot off the bed like a spring. Diving for cover behind a bench and crawling in her hands and knees towards Chibs.

‘There’s another two through the back.. they took two of my girls.’

She spluttered out in a panic, eyes widened in fear, the Scot reassured her before turning to the prospect.

‘Keep an eye on ‘im. I’ll go see what’s happenin’ next door. Ye best call Clay an’ update him, an’all.’

“On it.”

With his colt trained on the now lone Mayan, who had his pointed towards Chez’s direction in return, his free hand flips the burner to make a sharp and extremely brief chat to the club leader.

Just as the phone snaps shut, Chibs reaches the door in which he is to manoeuvre through, only to have it burst open on him.

The remaining two Mexicans, come out all guns blazing.

“Fuck! Everybody down!” The yelled instruction unneeded as all the females flung themselves to the floor with banshee like shrieks as an assault of bullets sound around them.

As a near miss flew past his head, Chez’s patience finally snaps and he stands from where he was previously crouched, behind the makeshift till counter. His own shots managed to score a hit to an arm on one and a leg on another.

Given that they were now all edging towards the side door, two carrying the third with the wounded thigh, the prospect looked to the older male for silent instruction.

‘Let ‘em go, Chezza. If any of our lads are outside, they’ll see to ‘em sure enough.’

Once the Mayans have left the premises, Luanne begins to gather up the girls. Each of them checking the other’s welfare in a high keening pitch as they hug and pat one another down.

“What the hell were you thinking, Lu?”

Barely managing to hold his temper as the younger Grazer reholsters his gun.

‘They said they were fans.’ She began in a tone that still held a note of panic. Now in fear of upsetting the club.

‘...they paid $200 to come watch. Just for an hour. Then the bikers turned up and things got.. a bit out of hand.’

Somehow she managed to perform an expression full of innocent guilt on both the prospect and the Scotsman. ‘I’m really sorry, guys. Thanks for comin’ so quick. I don’t know what might’ve happened otherwise.’

All further conversations were cut short as a flustered Opie burst through the side entrance, gun held aloft. ‘LYLA!’

“It’s all cool, man. They’ve gone. She’s

Good.” Chez’s words of reassurance ringing around the softened wails and over emotional cries as the worried bear of a man is now cradling his petite old lady in his arms.

“She done good, Ope. Real good.”

Meeting the grateful look as the grizzly brother nods an expression of thanks his way, Chez feels a hardened pat to a shoulder.

‘So did you, son. Which just goes tae prove why the vote was unanimous.’

Suddenly feeling as if his heart was about to beat right out of its rib caged confines, Chez angled his face towards the voice.

“What...?”

‘We voted, lad. After the vote for the next run, Clay asked about your prospectin’. It should really be Tig or Clay tellin’ yea, but after tha’, I’m just gonna go ahead an’ say,

....welcome tae tha jungle, brotha!”

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (119/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[9 April, 233 Before Age.   Planet Travigar.]

Luffa needed help.    Seltiss just needed to get her to admit it.    

It wouldn't be easy, but nothing worth doing ever was.   Their people, the Saiyans, were a stubborn lot, and Luffa was a Super Saiyan, which probably made her even more stubborn than most.   Seltiss was a princess of the Rehval Dynasty, which ruled the Saiyan kingdom.   Luffa came from a family of anti-monarchists, and she bore a personal grudge with Seltiss' father.    

But the war changed all of that.   The Jindan Cult, led by the mysterious Trismegistus, posed a threat to the Saiyan species, as well as the rest of the universe.   As powerful as Luffa was, she couldn't defeat them all by herself, and neither could the Saiyan Free Company, which Seltiss had formed in opposition to her father's kingdom.   Their only chance was to join forces.    Luffa hated the idea, but couldn't deny the reasoning, and so she allowed Seltiss' mercenary bands to operate within Federation space.    Seltiss had set up a base of operations on the Federation world of Eetii.    

Most of the fighting took place along the frontier of the Federation, as the Jindan strategy was to invade planets along the borders to spread the defenders thin.   Eetii was fairly close to a group of worlds near one end of the periphery, and Seltiss had kept an eye on things there while Luffa handled things on the opposite front.   And yet, some new offensive had forced Luffa to approach Eetii.    Early reports had said something about a "rock creature" that kept appearing on one planet after another.    Whatever it was, it had led Luffa on a merry chase along the border worlds, only to vanish after being defeated on  Planet Travigar, less than twenty light years from Eetii.    Luffa sent a subspace transmission on a Saiyan Free Company channel, for Seltiss' eyes only.   The message was simple: "Need a lift.   Come alone."  

It was a perfect opportunity.    Seltiss had hoped to spend some time with Luffa, to forge a peace between them that could ensure the survival of the Saiyan Free Company beyond the war.   Seltiss had plans, and none of them would amount to much if Luffa could swoop in and topple them without warning.    Her father had tried to manipulate and destroy Luffa, and failed.    But a little soft power-- friendly gestures, kept promises, healthy respect-- could go a lot further than brute force or palace intrigue.    Even if a lasting peace wasn't possible, Seltiss could hopefully convince Luffa that the S.F.C. could be useful in the future, and therefore worth keeping around.  

Besides, Seltiss enjoyed traveling alone.    It reminded her of the stories she read about space exploration.   There was no beguiling outer space.   No negotiation or manipulation.    There were the laws of physics and one’s ability to work within them.    As she descended through the Travigarian atmosphere, Seltiss quickly located the starfighter Luffa had been traveling in.   The scanners confirmed that the vessel's engines were inoperable.   Her ship's sensors could detect Saiyan life readings well enough, but it was simpler for Seltiss to handle that part herself.   Seltiss was an average fighter by Saiyan standards, but she still knew how to sense the battle power of other strong warriors.    In Luffa's case, it was hard not to notice Luffa’s mighty ki signature.   All Seltiss had to do was focus on that power and follow it like a beacon to Luffa's location.    She was mildly surprised to find that she wasn't with the ship, but Luffa was the restless type, and the little starfighter was useless to her in any case.  

Instead, Seltiss found Luffa on a grassy plain, surrounded by soldiers.   Seltiss didn't recognize their uniforms, and her sensors only indicated that they were molluskoid aliens.   She landed in an empty space nearby and flew directly to Luffa.  

She looked terrible.  

"It's about time you showed up," Luffa said.    "What the hell are you dressed like that for?"

The alien soldiers probably had no idea that Seltiss and Luffa were of the same species.    Luffa had a long tail covered in brown fur, which was now matted with blood and grime.    She normally wore a black sleeveless shirt with baggy yellow pants that were tucked into black combat boots.    These were now so badly torn that they now barely qualified as clothing.    The left pant leg was shorn off completely, leaving a rag hanging out of the rim of her boot.   The right leg wasn't much better off, as only a strip of fabric ran all the way down from the waist to the ankle.    Luffa's modesty was mainly preserved with various bandages and medical tape, most of which had been scorched or stained with blood.    Her short black hair was ringed with a strip of fabric around her head.

Seltiss, on the other hand, had no tail, as her father had it surgically removed at birth.   The only evidence that she had ever had one was a hint of scar tissue mostly covered by the waist of her pink-and-black checkered sarong.  Her heeled boots were Montalban originals imported from Camelia, and her black bandeau had pink straps that wrapped around one shoulder and criss-crossed down the length of her arm.    Her hair, piled in a messy beehive style, was dyed a vibrant shade of pink, which matched her eyeshadow, nail polish, and lipstick.

"Excuse you?" Seltiss asked, forgetting the greeting she had rehearsed to try to curry Luffa's favor.  She had put a lot of thought into her appearance, after all.      

"Never mind," Luffa said, pointing at the soldiers.   "These guys are from Planet Oat," she explained.     "Thousands of years ago, they were at war with Travigar, back when it used to be called Planet Bob.     Something about soy milk, I didn't follow that part of the story."  

One of the soldiers started to speak up, and Luffa held out her hand to stop him from explaining their backstory.    "Look, let's not go over that again.    We'll be here all day."    

"Luffa, what does this have to do with that rock creature you told us about?" Seltiss asked.  

"Not much," Luffa said.    "These Oatians got trapped in a mystical fissure during the Oat-Bob War, and they've been in suspended animation the whole time, until the Jindan cultists came here and summoned that rock creature.   My guess is all that magic disrupted something and set them free.   But they still want to conquer Travigar, and that's where you come in."  

"Me?" Seltiss said.    

"Yeah, I told them it was pointless to fight an all-out battle from an old war, but they have their pride, so I offered them a contest of champions.    Their best ten guys against my handpicked warrior."    Luffa pointed at Seltiss, then jabbed her finger at Seltiss's chest.    "And my hand just picked you, little girl."

"Wh-why?"  Seltiss asked.   "Are you hurt?   I mean, I've got Saiyans working for me on Eetii that are totally stronger than I am, but your message said to come alone, so...?"

"Hah!" Luffa scoffed.   "Your idiot father always ran his mouth about how he planned to breed the Saiyans into a mightier race.   I thought his own brat would have a little more confidence in her skills."

"Is that what this is?" Seltiss asked.   "Like, a test?"

"It shouldn't be," Luffa said.   "I think you can handle ten of them without too much trouble.    I just want this to be a decent fight.    These guys have waited long enough to see some action.   Do a good job, and they might even agree to join our side in the war."

Seltiss sighed and began limbering up.    In spite of everything, she was a halfway decent fighter, at least for her power level.   "Okay, okay.  I'll play along, I guess.   Just promise me something, will you?"

"What's that?" Luffa asked.  

"When we get back to Eetii," Seltiss said between leg stretches, "you have got to let me buy you a new outfit."

*******  

[9 April, 233 Before Age.   Planet Eetii.]

The Eetiians had a near religious regard for plant life, so they allowed it to grow freely throughout their cities.    Their shopping malls weren't all that different from others Seltiss had visited, except that the view from every window and skylight offered the same view of a thick tangle of weeds.  And yet, the Eetiians seemed to genuinely appreciate this.    Passers-by would often stop and stare out the windows, as if they were gazing out upon some majestic mountain range.

What mattered was that their clothing stores had the right colors and styles to approximate Luffa's signature look.    Seltiss would have preferred to give Luffa a full makeover, drawing upon fashion resources from the rest of the galaxy, but there was a war on, and Seltiss had to work quickly with the resources that were on hand, before Luffa was called away to another battle.    As it was, Seltiss barely had time to assemble a new outfit for herself, to replace the ensemble she had worn into battle against the Otians.   She would miss that sarong, but she liked the black sequined pants and pink suit-coat she had found to replace them.    Seltiss would have preferred to wear something very revealing under the jacket.    The models in the magazines always did this, teasing their bare skin from underneath the crisp angles of the coat.    But a stern glare from Luffa had persuaded Seltiss to go with a white blouse instead.  

As for Luffa, Seltiss had found a black racerback swimsuit to serve as the top of her outfit, and a pair of nylon windbreaker pants for the bottom.    Luffa normally wore fingerless gloves, but there had been  no sign of these on Travigar, and Seltiss assumed they had been lost.    The best she could find in the mall were black gloves that had fingers, although Luffa made a approving grunt when she tried them on, so Seltiss supposed they would do.  

"You look amazing!" Seltiss cheered as Luffa stepped out of the fitting room.   "Way sleeker than the old gear you used to wear."

"What did you do with my boots?" Luffa asked as she began looking around the room.

"Oh, those.   I threw them out," Seltiss said.    

"What?"

"Okay, first of all, I’m on your side, so chill out," Seltiss said,   "Second, I took one whiff of those old clogs and yuck," she pinched her nostrils shut for effect.    "I tried holding them upside down, but that actually smelled worse."

She reached into a shopping bag and produced a pair of black cleats.     "So I found these while you were changing.       You don't have to keep them, but you can at least wear those until we find something you like.    Preferably something in the non-barfing section of the store."

Luffa took the shoes and examined the thick treads that stuck out from the soles.   "Hmm," she said.   "I could get used to something like this..."   She took a seat on a bench and began to try them on.    

"So what's with the yellow pants, anyway?" Seltiss asked.    "The black I get, black goes with everything and it never goes out of style, but the yellow..."

"It's a family color," Luffa said without looking back at her.   "My mother liked it because it wasn't royalist blue.     Isn't that why you wear pink?   To piss off your old man?"

"Well, not exactly," Seltiss said.   "At first, it was to stand out as my own person, separate from the royal bloodline, but then it became kind of my thing, you know?"

"Then I guess we have something in common," Luffa replied coldly.

That should have been a good sign, but something about Luffa's tone was less than encouraging.    Seltiss wasn't sure what to say that could improve the situation, and then Luffa stood up and started kicking into the air.    

"Yeah," she said as her left leg moved almost too fast for Seltiss to follow.   She switched sides and did the same motions with her other leg.    "Yeah, the balance is good.   Nice traction, too.     Not so sure about leaving my ankles exposed like this, but I can deal with that.    Let's go."

She started walking straight for the exit, not even waiting for Seltiss to settle her bill.    Seltiss groaned and went to the register, figuring that it was enough to have Luffa on Planet Eetii.   It wasn't like she would be hard to find.

*******

Seltiss eventually found Luffa standing on a mesa overlooking one of the S.F.C. encampments on the planet.    Below, Saiyan mercenaries ran through training drills, while Federation technicians provided maintenance to their ships and weaponry.    They occasionally glanced up at the mesa, each of them well aware of Luffa's presence, even though they couldn't see her.    Seltiss was grateful that she had told her officers about Luffa's visit in advance.    As it was, there was still a chance her troops would panic, but at least they had been given a fair warning.  

"I was hoping to give you a tour of our camps," Seltiss said as she alighted beside Luffa.    "I'm sure you could provide some valuable insight.    From what I've seen of the Federation's military, I can tell you run a tight ship."  

"The Federation military runs itself," Luffa said.   "Well, Marshall Booth runs it.    I try to stay out of their way."

"Oh.    Well, I guess that's a good call," Seltiss said.    "They're a very efficient operation.   My generals have already learned a ton from them."

"That's not too surprising," Luffa said.   She uncrossed her arms and waved one hand toward the camp below.    "Saiyan mercenaries aren't exactly known for their discipline.   Must be like herding cats."

Seltiss made an insincere chuckle.    "It's, ah, it's a major challenge, that's for sure."

That was an understatement.   Seltiss had inherited her father's talent for statecraft, and she had a galaxy-class education to fall back on, but most of her ideas and plans were founded on textbook theory, rather than real-world experience.   Her followers weren't used to working within such a large and diverse group, and so they incessantly came to her to solve all their organizational problems.   She suspected that the only reason they weren't pestering her now was because they were so unsettled by Luffa looming over them.  

In a way, Luffa’s visit made for a pleasant distraction.   It was another challenge, perhaps even more difficult, like rolling all of the unruly Saiyans under her banner into one.   But at least it was a change.   Luffa's grim silence gave Seltiss a moment to enjoy the warmth of desert sun on the back of her neck, and the slight odor of her new suitcoat as it mingled with the scents of the native flora.  

"I'm curious how you got this many Saiyans together without my finding out about it," Luffa finally said.    

"Oh, it wasn't that complicated, really," Seltiss said.    "I set up a base of operations on an obscure planet, and then I started contacting embassies, mercenary contractors, and all the other usual places you'd go to find Saiyan activity.   I also had some copies of, like, my father's records.    He had a lot of contact information.    E-mail addresses, subspace comm frequencies, stuff like that."

"I tried searching Rehval's embassies," Luffa grumbled.  "I never found anything useful like that."

"Um, duh, that's because all you had to offer anyone was a violent interrogation," Seltiss said.    "I didn't go anywhere in person.   I just sent messages with an offer of safe haven.   I got a lot of takers, but I made it a rule that you had to contact at least one other Saiyan before I let them join.   They didn't have to get the next guy to say 'yes', but it helped spread the message quickly and quietly.    Turns out, there's a lot of Saiyans out in the galaxy who wanted an alternative to running from you, or waiting for my father to come out of hiding."

Luffa shrugged.    "Serves me right.  Maybe I should have taken a more subtle approach."

"Well, it's not really your style," Seltiss said.   "Besides, the Saiyans who joined my group never knew anything about my father's whereabouts.   Even if you had found them all, they wouldn't have been able to tell you anything."

"Still, to hide a whole population of Saiyans from me... that's something," Luffa said.   "That must be a really backwater planet you found.     I’ll bet it’s tough for you to maintain supply lines."

"We manage pretty well," Seltiss said.  

The truth was that Seltiss' base was on Planet Shenia, an inhabited planet she and Xibuyas had conquered several months ago.   The S.F.C. lived quite comfortably there, as they relied on the Shenian people to serve their needs.     Seltiss considered herself a benevolent overlord.    The Saiyans generally stayed out of the natives' way, and Seltiss permitted the Shenians to live and work mostly as they had done before her invasion.    As long as their leaders provided the food and materials she ordered, she would leave them alone.  

But Luffa didn't need to know that.    Seltiss knew very little of the Super Saiyan's personality, but it was clear to most observers that she had a soft spot for aliens.    Luffa had liberated numerous planets in her career, and she seemed to go out of her way to defend weaker peoples from aggressive powers.    Seltiss doubted that Luffa would actually turn against the S.F.C. over an insignificant planet like Shenia.    Their alliance was too important to jeopardize over a backwater planet full of weaklings.  Even so, there was no need to strain their relations by bringing it up.    The less Luffa knew about it, the better off they would be.

"Must be difficult wrangling all those Saiyans without anyone revealing the location of your headquarters, though," Luffa said.  "They seem to respect your authority well enough."

"They know my father is no longer fit to rule," Seltiss said.    "They also know what a massive control freak he is.    I knew if he ever found out about what I was doing, he'd try to meddle with it, one way or another.     A lot of my guys only want refuge, either from your or from my dad.   They like the secrecy even more than I do."

"Sure, but it's a big universe," Luffa said.    "Plenty of ways to hide without turning to a teenage girl for help."    

Seltiss smiled.    "True, but most of them know that the Saiyan people need a ruler, and as the heir to the throne, I'm the best candidate."  

"Is that right?" Luffa asked idly.

Seltiss began floating into the air, and she waved for Luffa to follow her.    "Come on," she said.    "I want to show you something."

*******

There was a palpable tension in the public areas of the Saiyan camp.    The mercenaries did their best not to show it, but Seltiss could tell they had been on edge ever since Luffa arrived on the planet.   Now that Luffa was walking in their midst, Seltiss could practically feel their discomfort like the heat from a radiator.   Even so, they went about their business, milling about, swapping tall tales of past battles, arguing about repair work for their ships, and giving lessons to their children.

"They're usually more enthusiastic than this," Seltiss said.    A little Saiyan boy ran past them, and they could hear his mother yelling for him to stay away.     "Well, I guess the kids are about the same," Seltiss added.   "Everyone's just nervous because..."

"I get it," Luffa said.    "They were like this on Planet Saiya, only there's a lot fewer of them here.    If I decided to play with them a bit, they wouldn't stand a chance, and they know it."  

"Okay, then why are you, like, enjoying it so much?" Seltiss asked.   "I tried to calm these guys down, and you're grinning at them like you want them to be afraid of you."

"Oh, please," Luffa said.   "You've spent time around aliens.   Don't tell me you've never gotten a kick out of being strong enough to defeat them all in a heartbeat."

"Well... yeah, sure," Seltiss said.   "But we're not aliens... unless you..."

"Oh, I'm as Saiyan as the rest of you, little girl," Luffa said.   "But we're not equals, so don't pretend a few chromosomes put us on the same level.   When I was your age, I was a lot weaker than you are now.    Pretty sure if that Luffa was standing here today, you wouldn't even give me a second look.   I didn't ask to become this strong, but now that I am, I won’t pretend I'm not just to make you feel better about yourself."

Seltiss nodded.    "Like, fair enough, I guess.     We're just not used to being so low on the pecking order."

"And that's what's wrong with our whole species," Luffa said.   "Most of us are chumps who think they're a big deal just because they can knock over a planet.    We call ourselves warriors when most of the time we're just bullies who don't know what to do when someone stronger comes along."

Seltiss took some solace in the word "we".   A lot of Saiyans claimed that Luffa was an alien posing as a Saiyan.   To Seltiss, that just sounded like a crackpot conspiracy theory.    And yet, despite Luffa's outward appearance, there was something very unnatural about her.    Seltiss could finally see how the 'alien' rumor got so popular.    The truth was perhaps more horrifying: that Luffa used to be a normal Saiyan and somehow evolved into something... else.    At last, Seltiss finally understood why Xibuyas was so worried about the possibility of being her son.   But at least Luffa still considered herself a Saiyan, even if she looked down in disapproval at her brethren.

Seltiss led Luffa to the command center, which was constructed out of a special material Seltiss had discovered during her occupation of Planet Shenia.   It resembled cloth, but when connected to a device Seltiss didn't really understand, the fabric stiffened and became like a thick sheet of strong metal.    The Shenian military could carry it easily and set it up like a tent, but then activate it to make a shelter strong enough to withstand a bombardment.  Seltiss expected Luffa to take an interest in the building, but she never said a word.     Perhaps she had seen something like it on other planets.  

She introduced Luffa to some of her generals.   Each of them was a Saiyan man at least fifty years of age.    They briefly discussed their own impressions of the ongoing war, but all Luffa was concerned about was tracking down the Jindan Cult's base of operations.    None of them could offer any solutions to that problem.  

Seltiss then took her to the mess hall, and barely managed to convince Luffa not to go into the kitchen and "help".    

"I guess it would be dishonorable to just barge into their place and take over," Luffa said as she gnawed on the barbecued rib of some large animal.    "It's just that I live with aliens, and it forces you to get very protective of cooking spaces.   You can't trust them not to make a mess of things.   But these guys here, they seem to know their stuff."  

She passed a bowl of stew to Seltiss's side of the table.    "Here, try some of this," she said.    "It'll put some meat on those arms of yours."  

Seltiss shook her head.    Like all Saiyans, Seltiss had a ravenous appetite of her own, and her side of the table was stacked with her own share of animal bones and empty plates.    Even so, she didn't seem to eat enough for Luffa's liking.    Seltiss wasn't sure if this was some sort of motherly instinct, or flat-out body-shaming, or something else entirely.    

"Your, ah-- your wife," Seltiss asked, desperate to change the subject.    "Is it difficult to cook for her?   When you had me over for dinner on your ship, I only ever saw her eating from one plate."

"Oh, you have no idea!" Luffa said, still chewing on a piece of bread.    "She *says* she's a survivalist, but she hardly eats at all.   Honestly, I got used to her eating small portions.    What's *creepy* is how she doesn't even act hungry at all for *hours*, even though she barely ate anything.   Like, how does she do it?"

Seltiss relaxed a little.    For the first time, it felt like Luffa was opening up, however slightly.   She was worried that her alien wife would be a sensitive topic, but it looked like she had been dying to talk to another Saiyan about it.  

Luffa pointed a fork at Seltiss and raised an eyebrow.   "As far as cooking goes," she said,  "the trick is to remember that you only have one shot, so you need to make it count."   She reached into the pile of bones next to her and pulled one of them from the bottom of the stack.    "Now this one was a little overdone, but so what?    You cook this much meat all at once, you're bound to have a few pieces on the fire too long.    It happens.    But for some aliens, this one rib might be enough to feed three people, so you have to get it right, or they'll think you don't know what you're doing."

"I see," Seltiss said, not sure if she actually understood.    

"You have to focus your effort on very small portions.   And you can't just serve one dish and call it done.    Aliens have to eat some vegetables, just like the rest of us.   So the portions have to get even smaller so you can serve more than one in the same meal.   So you end up spending all this time and energy on something a normal person would gulp down without even noticing."  

"That sounds way challenging," Seltiss said.

"It is, but my senses got sharper after I--" Luffa held her free hand next to the side of her head and waved it upward to signal what she meant.    "That helped, believe it or not.    There was a time when I couldn't handle a spoon without bending it in half, but eventually I managed to control my other form enough where I could cook that way.     Then I got to where I could make those improvements work in base form.    Now, it's kind of fun to cook at microscale."    

"That's great," Seltiss said.    She had no idea what sort of alien Luffa's wife really was.   She looked humanoid, with blue skin, green eyeballs, and blood-red hair.   Seltiss half-suspected that the creature didn't need to eat whatsoever, and only played along to salve Luffa's culinary pride.    But Seltiss certainly wasn't going to suggest that out loud and spoil the mood.    

So instead, she tried to steer the conversation towards her own agenda.    "You know, what you're talking about feels a little like what we've been trying to do with the Free Company," Seltiss said.   "I'm hoping that this war will be a chance for us to show the galaxy a different side to the Saiyans.    This might be, like, the only shot we have.   Like those meals you cook for aliens, we only get one chance to get it right."

"Yeah, I figured that's why you said you wanted to show me something down here, Seltiss," Luffa said.    "What was it you wanted me to see?"

"Uh... really?"  Seltiss had to fight to suppress her frustration.    She had hoped that she wouldn't have to spell it out, but it seemed that Luffa hadn't even been paying attention.    "I mean, you saw everyone outside.    Working together, respecting the Eetiian population.   A lot of the Free Companions still have their tails, and they brought their children along to train them for full-scale wars.    I'm not forcing them to assimilate or put their embryos in tanks like my father, or anything gross like that."

"You want a medal?" Luffa asked.    "I didn't turn this camp into a smoldering crater, but I don't see anyone throwing me a parade."

"You met my generals," Seltiss said.   "That proves something, doesn't it?   That I'm not just some ditzy teen playing leader.   They wouldn't have joined me if I hadn't earned their respect."  

"They joined you because you have something going for you," Luffa said.   "Generals need troops to command and kings to give them authority.    You might have some credentials, but let's face it, this is just a convenient arrangement for all of us."  

"Doesn't it feel even a little comfortable to be around other Saiyans?" Seltiss asked.   "I know they're all afraid of you right now, but we can work on that.    You don't have to be alone--"

"Your old man tried to make the same pitch last year," Luffa said.     "Then he tried to kill me."

"Yeah, I know," Seltiss whined.    "I'm trying to show you that I'm not like him."

"I've noticed," Luffa said.   "You've been very eager to impress me, Seltiss," Luffa said.  "Why is that, exactly?"

"I need your support," Seltiss replied.  "A lot of Saiyans have joined me because they want to get away from my father's oppressive policies, and because they don't want you harassing them to get at him.  If I can get along with you, it proves that I'm a leader who won't make more trouble for them."

Luffa sneered.  "Spoken like a true politician."

"You saw me fight those Oatians," Seltiss said.  "Are you telling me I lack passion, just because I'm pragmatic?"

"You fight like you talk," Luffa said.  "Very precise, very calculated.  It slows you down, though.   You think too hard about what you're going to do before you do it.  When you finally commit to a course of action, it's a smart play, but it slows your reaction time."

Her words stung.    Seltiss had always prided herself on her ability to stay cool under pressure and examine the situation.    She had assumed that Luffa made her fight the Oatians just to see what Seltiss could do.    She had tried to end it quickly, so she would have fewer chances to make any mistakes.    And yet, in that short battle, Luffa had not only analyzed Seltiss' entire fighting style, but had deconstructed it.

"I... no one's ever told me that," Seltiss finally said.  "I usually get complimented for my quick reflexes.  Xibuyas even called my style 'poetry in motion'."

Luffa snorted.  "Katem is a teenage boy," she said.  "He'd probably watch you slip on a fruit rind and tell you how  graceful you are.  The worst part is, he would  probably mean it."

"I guess you're right," Seltiss said.  "But I thought that his speed would allow him to notice flaws in my moves, and if he couldn't see any, then..."

Luffa pointed at her own eyes.  "He's fast, but I'm faster, kid.  Take my advice.  Sometimes you have to let your instincts take over.  A hasty punch can be more effective than a well-considered one."

"Heh.  All right.  I like you, Luffa.  Not many people are willing to be so direct with me."

"Good, then I'll keep going," Luffa said.  "I think you're a walking example of why monarchy doesn't work.  People follow you because they're fed up with your father, and yet they still think you're qualified just because you're his daughter.  That's ridiculous.  You're a child.  I don't care how smart you are."

"That's another reason I want to impress you, Luffa," Seltiss said.  "I have a lot to prove.  If I can convince you I know what I'm doing, then I can convince anyone."

"And then what?"

"Huh?"

"Let's say you succeed.  You become the Queen of the Saiyans.  What would you do with that?  Where would you go from there?"

Seltiss was beginning to realize that Luffa was an even greater challenge than she had ever dreamed.   She was used to her followers accepting her vision very readily.   But then, what choice did any of them really have?    Even Xibuyas, for all his power, had nowhere else to go.   She cleared her throat as she tried to think of some way to make her dream as compelling as possible.   Then she gave up, as she knew Luffa was too straightforward for anything less than direct honesty.

"I'd want to shape the Saiyans into a nation, just like my great-grandfather wanted," she began.  "But I'd want to undo the failed policies of my father.  The secret police, the cultural reforms.  His obsession with you.  The strange experiments... Why are you laughing?"

"Because you don't get it," Luffa said.  "Did it ever occur to you that all that of your father's dirty tricks were the only thing keeping him in power?  That without all his backstabbing, his precious kingdom would have flown apart a long time ago?"

"Are you saying I have to embrace his wicked ways to hold power?" Seltiss asked.

"No, I'm saying the Saiyans can't be united under a single ruler," Luffa said.  "Not for long, anyway.  Not without abandoning what makes our kind great.  You and your dynasty are just spitting into the wind."

"Then... then I'll never convince you that I'm a great leader," Seltiss said.   "At best, we can only agree to disagree."

"Now that's the most mature thing you've said all day," Luffa said.   She rose up from the table and began picking up the dishes.  

Seltiss wasn't sure what to make of that, but she hoped it was a good sign.   She had hoped to get some sort of truce with Luffa, some kind of formal promise that she wouldn't intrude on Free Company affairs, but maybe this was good enough.   She might not believe in Seltiss now, but if she was willing to give her a chance, if she was prepared to wait and see, then that was something.   At least it implied that Luffa would back off and let Seltiss run things without interference.    

She was sure Luffa would confront her about her base of operations.    But she didn't seem to know about Shenia, and there was no indication that she had any interest in finding out.    As long as the occupation was a secret, then there was a chance.   There was only one other loose end she needed to tie up.    As she considered how best to broach the subject, Luffa had dropped off all of their dishes at a receptacle on the far wall of the mess, and she was already heading out the door.    

"There was one other reason why I wanted to impress you," Seltiss said as she caught up to her.      "I'm, uh, dating your son," Seltiss said. 

Luffa made a mocking show of surprise.    "You don’t say?" she asked.    "I had no idea..."

Seltiss ignored her sarcasm.    "Depending on how things go, you and I could wind up as in-laws, right?"

"You're sixteen," Luffa grumbled.  

"I like to plan ahead," Seltiss said with a smile.   She needed Xibuyas, not for any romantic reasons, but for his power.    He was probably the strongest Saiyan in the universe after Luffa.   The problem was that Luffa claimed to be his mother, and he vehemently denied it.    She needed to find some way to keep that conflict from exploding in her face.   One of these days, Luffa might come to take custody of Xibuyas, or he would take it upon himself to kill her, or die in the attempt.     Neither outcome was favorable to Seltiss.   She needed to get a handle on Luffa's intentions towards the boy.   Would she even allow him to marry?   Would she let him be his own man?    Her entire timetable depended on having loyal Xibuyas wrapped around her little finger for at least another five years.    Unfortunately, Luffa was more concerned with the short term.  

"Can you cook?"    Luffa asked.    "Because I can almost promise you he can't."

"Why does matter if we can cook?" Seltiss asked.

Luffa threw her hands up in the air.    "What do you two lovebirds plan to eat?"

"We'd have servants for that," Seltiss said.    

Luffa stopped along the path they walked and turned to face her.   "Hah!    You actually think it's that simple!    Just get someone else to cook the meals?    Launder the sheets?   That's no marriage, girl.    That's a stay at a hotel.   What do you have to offer a mate, besides your title and bloodline?"

"Well, Xibuyas finds me attractive enough..."

Luffa shook her head.    "Useless.    Boys his age... There's a few hundred million women in the universe who'd turn his head the same way if he ever saw them."

Seltiss couldn't help but admire Luffa's ruthless appraisal.    As much as the young princess prided herself on her detachment, she supposed that she had let Xibuyas' flattery go to her head.    Around him, it was easy to think there was something special about herself that he could never find in anyone else.    He probably believed that, but she couldn't risk letting herself believe it too.  

"Let me ask you this," Luffa went on.  "What do you see in him?"

"He's very sensitive," Seltiss said.    "Well, he puts up a lot of barriers, but he lets them down around me.   I'm the only one he can truly confide in."    

These were facts, although they didn't actually answer Luffa's question.    Seltiss had long ago crafted a response for what she liked in Xibuyas.    It sounded a lot better than saying: "He's easy to manipulate, and he's nice to look at."

"So what?" Luffa asked.    "That isn't practical at all.    It sounds to me like you're in love with being in love.    That won't get you very far.   Trust me."

Perhaps, Seltiss thought, her pat answer needed workshopping.    

"Then you're saying all that matters is doing chores?" Seltiss asked.

"Marriage is a partnership," Luffa said.   "It's one thing to share the pleasures, like sex and war and listening to the same music.    But what really counts is being able to take care of the little things.   The boring parts where no one else is around.    If you two can handle that, then you don't really need my approval, or anyone else's."

"So I should learn to cook,"  Seltiss said.   "Is that what you're telling me?"

"Hell no," Luffa snorted.    "Get him to cook.   He'll be better at it, since he should have inherited my talent for it.    When's he coming back here?"

"Tomorrow," Seltiss said.   "He had some mopping up to do on Penticede, but his last transmission said he'd be arriving on Eetii in the morning."  

"Fine.    I need to fill him in on the rock creatures.    He should be strong enough to defeat one on his own, as long as he knows where to strike."

"Oh!   Wow, that’s a relief.   I was wondering why you hadn't told me anything about the rock creatures until now," Seltiss said.   "I was starting to think you didn't trust me."

"I don't trust you, Seltiss," Luffa said.    "You keep trying to get on my good side, like we're buddies or something, but you keep your secrets, don't you?"

"Secrets?" Seltiss said.    "I... I don't know what you're talking about.     If you mean our home base, that's a matter of security.   I can't just--"

"I'm not talking about Shenia, kid," Luffa groaned.   "I already know how you took over the government so you could use it for your own plans.    Federation intelligence tracked it down for me three weeks ago."

"You... you knew?" Seltiss suddenly felt her throat going dry.  

"You'll order your forces to withdraw from the planet immediately," Luffa told her.   "If you don't comply, my spies will report that back to me.    The jig is up, Princess."  

"Now hold on!" Seltiss said, her voice sounded a little higher than she would have liked.    

"Don't get me wrong.    I don't like having all these Saiyans of yours operating in Federation space, but I have to admit that Marshall Booth was right.   We do need this alliance to hold off the cultists.    But you personally?   Well, that might be another story.

Seltiss couldn't believe this.   How could it all go so wrong so quickly.    "You knew, this whole time?" she sputtered.    "But you let me go on and on, trying to be friendly towards you... Why?"

"I'm no diplomat," Luffa said.   "Ask anyone on the Federation Council.    They'll tell you that I negotiate like I fight.   And there's nothing quite as satisfying as letting your opponent waste their energy while they think they have a handle on the situation.   Then you tell them how things really are, and you catch them off balance."

Seltiss took a step back from Luffa, and nearly stumbled.    "You can't be serious.   You'd kill me over Shenia?   You've never even been there!     I made sure to pick a planet you've never been to."

"What difference does that make?" Luffa said.   "I've seen enough planets conquered by invaders.    I think I've got a pretty good idea what it's like.    You want me to believe you're some kind of genius leader?   Stop acting like a pirate.   Try building a country from scratch, instead of on the backs of someone else.    Or I can kill you here and now.   Your choice."

"Now hold on!" Seltiss gasped.    "You can't kill me.   You just said you needed our alliance.   Without me, the Free Company falls apart!"

"Maybe," Luffa said.    "But something tells me a lot of your guys might decide to stick around and see the war through without you.   Once they get a look at those rock creatures, they'll see things my way."

"What do the rock creatures have to do with it?!" Seltiss demanded.    

"Your daddy's face, that's what!" Luffa shouted.  

Her outburst was loud enough to be heard by Saiyans who were passing nearby, though none of them could have understood what it meant.   But Seltiss understood.    The shock of it was like a chill through her entire body.   Her knees gave way, and she nearly sank to the ground.

She surely would have, except Luffa caught her by the arms and held her upright.  

"No, that won't do," Luffa said, looking down on Seltiss with wide eyes.  "You're the Princess of the Saiyans, aren't you?   The iron lady should face this on her feet, shouldn't she?"

"T-trismegistus..." Seltiss stammered.    "The alchemist who trained my father.   He could just be using dad’s likeness to--"

"Get real, Princess," Luffa said.    "Rehval is Trismegistus.   He stole the real guy's name, just like he stole the name 'Rehval' from your uncle.   Did you know about that?    Nobody knows your dad's real name.   Not even you.   He thinks it's cute or something that no one knows."

Seltiss wanted to say she couldn't believe it.    That wasn't true.    She didn't know the full extent of her father's machinations, but she knew enough about him.    Jindan, the cult, the war, the rock creatures.     Was any of it truly beyond his abilities?     There was no escaping it.    Unable to retreat into denial, all she could do was look away from Luffa's steely gaze.    

"Huh.  You really had no idea, did you?" Luffa said.    "I thought if I played along, let you talk long enough, you might betray yourself, give me some clue that you were secretly in league with the cult.    But no, the tears are real.    Maybe you did know about all this, once, but your old man altered your memories."

She wanted to angrily deny this charge, to insist that her father had never used any of his mind-altering potions on her.    But... how could she ever be sure of that?    If he was behind the Jindan Cult, enslaving his own people, then was there any depth he wouldn't sink to?    

"I so wanted to believe he was dead," Seltiss said.   "It would have easier that way.   So much easier.    I could lead the Free Company into war and avenge him, instead of trying to compete with him for however long it took for dad to realize he was obsolete."  

"Avenge yourself, girl," Luffa said.   "Your father is the lowest kind of scum, but you can restore your honor by helping me find him.    But first, you withdraw your soldiers from Shenia.    You'll never rise above your ancestors by wallowing in the same kind of filth."

There was something oddly comforting about Luffa's grip on her shoulders.     Seltiss vaguely wondered if this was the sort of thing she had missed out on from her own mother.    Brutal as Luffa's words were, there was a ring of truth to them.    

"I'm not with him, Luffa," Seltiss said angrily.    "I don't expect you to believe that, but I'm saying it anyway.    I'll do, like, whatever you ask, but I have to see this through.  I can't rest until he dies."    

Luffa smiled.   "Very good, Seltiss," she said.    "My father betrayed me once, too, you know.    Maybe you'll get a chance to kill him, the same way I killed mine.    And then... Well, we can have something else in common."

She shoved Seltiss to the ground, then turned and flew away, leaving the daughter of the Rehval Dynasty to wish that she could be anyone else than who she was.  

NEXT: Method to the Madness.

[a-conspiracy-of-bad-decisions]

Smart Yamada

Okay so I’ve seen a lot of responses to stories or art with Present Mic doing dumbish stuff with ‘but Mic has 5/5 intelligence’. I will not argue with this. What I will argue with is the idea that just because you’re smart you wont do stupid things.

I’m decently smart. I’m not a genius or anything but my family/friends tend to believe I’m pretty smart and my grades support this. My decision making skills and instincts do not support this. The following is a list of dumb, dumb, actions I’ve taken:

·       I thought I ended up with pink eye because late at night my eye began to get swollen and red and had discharge. It began to clear up within a few hours though, so… either I had a superhuman immune system (I do not) or it was not pinkeye. I could not figure it out, until I remembered what happened that morning. My grandma made me and my cousin put OFF on to go outside to play. While doing this I sprayed OFF directly into my eye and decided to try walking it off. You know how you should always handle spaying dangerous chemicals directly in your eye.

·      I sprained my wrist because I used way to much force when shutting a car door.

·       I shut my own head in a car door. Like shutting the door on your hand but it was just… my entire face.

·       I’ve both played and worked with a migraine so bad I had to vomit. As in I played/worked with my migraine right up until I had to go run to the bathroom to vomit. If my mom or friends didn’t stop me, I would return to working or playing because I have no sense of self preservation.

·       I set my desk on fire (for ScIeNcE!!!). So… I knew nail polish remover was flammable but I didn’t know how flammable. And I watched T.V. I watched documentaries. I know when you want to know something you do an experiment. So I cut the top off a plastic water bottle, poured about ½ cup of nail polish remover in and dropped in a lit match. My friend started yelling for my parents, meanwhile I’m dead behind the eyes as I walk to the bathroom, get a cup of water and return to dump it on the fire.

·       I was painting and on impulse wasted a ton of black acrylic paint by coating my entire hand in paint. I have done this multiple times and will likely do so again.

·       I’ve always been short. So I decided I did not have time to go get a step stool every time I needed a cup. Seven year old me came up with a solution, countertop parkour.

·       There was the whole… ‘Bird Incident’

·       I was the king of hide and seek. Mostly because I chose hiding spots a person should not be able to fit into. Such as the washing machine. Or under a horse trailer so low to the ground my back brushed the floor when I breathed in.

·       Doing things that trigger: allergies, asthma, headaches, carsickness, nausea, etc because yeah it made me sick but it was fun so worth it.

·       I met this dude and had a slight dislike of him. So I returned every comment he made with snark and sarcasm. After a few minutes I was “alright cool, we’re rivals that’s fun”. Turns out he had a crush on me. I was disappointed we weren’t actually rivals.

·       I will get so focused on my work I will forget to breath. As in the only way I remember to breath is when my lungs hurt bad because ‘oh yeah I haven’t breathed in like… a minute’.

·       I spaced out and just stood in the middle of a parking lot staring at something on the ground.

·       I have recently developed health issues that can involve bouts of muscle weakness. I also love backpacking. I decided to go on a backpacking trip despite my health issues. (Because what my body needs it strap 15 lbs of gear on my back and walk for hours). Yeah, I fell multiple times, scraped my legs to shreds, and my legs shook like half set Jello in an earthquake.

·       I would get bored in class and would bend my fingers back far enough that it hurt.

·       We had a golf cart. Because once again I’ve seen T.V. I had a brilliant idea. My cousin should drive the cart as fast as it will go and I should run behind and then jump on it as it moves. This was fun.

·       Despite being terrified of spiders I try to relocate them outside because if I kill one the guilt will haunt me for weeks.

·       I’ve always liked snakes. Young me desperately wanted a pet snake. Current me also wants a pet snake but that’s irrelevant. My cousins and I were playing in the yard and found!! a!! snake!! So we caught it. Then however we were like… is this a worm or a snake? Cause if this is a worm it’s really big. If it’s a snake it’s really weird. So we asked my grandfather who agreed Yes. This is a snake. So we decided that we now had a pet snake. Our snake needed a name. This was not a snake. This is how we ended up with a worm named Fang.

·       While backpacking (around 11 years oldish) we were headed back to the car. I was ready to get to the car so I hyper focused on the trail. Which means that I hiked full speed, carrying a heavy backpack, without breaks, and ended up way ahead of the adults (who were keeping a reasonable pace), and hiked until I almost passed out from exhaustion, heat, and dehydration.

·       While in Walmart saw some pixie stix. Yelled “PIXIE STIX” as loudly as humanly possible.

·       Got coffee on a road trip. Coffee was disgusting, stale, AND cold. Drank it anyway.

·       Invinted and played ‘the blindfold game’ with my cousin. In the blindfold game you blindfold yourself (obviously) and then try to do daily tasks without making a huge mess. (Yes blind people do this every day. My cousin and I are not blind. We had no practice in this what so ever.)  I think on of the most complicated things we did was make a sandwich.

·       Fixed a minor problem with my ceiling light. Did not flip the breaker to make sure I couldn’t get shocked.

·       We had an above ground swimming pool. It had about 5-6 inches of water in it in the winter. The ice froze and I was like ‘Neat! I can go ice skating!’. I do not have ice skates. I broke through the ice multiple times. I only went inside to warm up when my legs were completely numb. 10/10 would repeat.

·       Ran on slick concrete, in the rain. Fell and opened a five inch long cut on my arm. I was at work so I duct taped some paper towels to my arm and got back to work.

·       Ended up with a bone bruise (also called microfracture) on one of the bones in my foot. Was supposed to stay off it a whole week. Wanted to go do something fun but Mom  was like ‘with your foot injured you’re in no condition to do so’. Forced myself to walk without crutches, a limp, or wincing to ‘prove’ I was well enough to go do the fun thing. Mom relented. I was not well enough.

·       I have to move sharp things away because my instincts will scream ‘stab it through your hand’ and I’m like ‘that’s not a good idea’ and my instincts are like ‘do it, coward’.

·       Windows? You mean extra doors.

·       And finally my favorite story. Real life fruit ninja. This was around the time the fruit ninja app was super popular. I was cleaning up the scraps from a pineapple and had a long knife in one hand. I also had an idea. It it safe to wave around long sharp knives in front of you while your friend hurls potatoes (cheaper and less wasteful than actual fruit) at your face safe? No. Is putting three knives between your fingers so you have wolverine claws safe? No. Is it fun? Yes. Have I learned that this is too dangerous? Nope, this game is fun and I will play again in the future.

·       Got my first pocket knife. Immediately closed it on my finger. Never mentioned it to my parent because my dad had told me to be careful of that about five minutes earlier.

Just because you are smart doesn’t mean you make good choices, it just means you’re better at fixing the fallout from your bad choices. Is my point you shouldn’t write smart Yamada Hizashi? Is my point you should write only smart Yamada Hizashi? No. My point is you can have the best of both worlds. Complete Idiotic Genius Yamada Hizashi. Present Mic that put together clues and come up with an answer Sherlock Holmes style, but who also got bored, set a bunch of ‘Home Alone’ traps all over the house, forgot and got punted down the stairs by his own trap.