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partnerlesspansexual · 7 months

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Art block

(Hobie Brown x GN!Artist!Reader)

(Synopsis: Art block is a bitch)

It's a pleasant evening on Earth-138, East London to be specific. The sky is clear, the air is crisp, and Spiderpunk (or Hobie Brown as you know him) is returning to his flat after a long day of spidey-work. It's certainly been a busy day to say the least, and all Hobie wants to do is strip off his suit, slip into something more comfortable (or not slip into anything at all if you're lucky, *wink,wink*), and chillax with his baby.

The moment he steps foot into your shared flat, however, his spidey-senses can tell that the vibes are off. Way off. He pulls off his mask, setting his beautiful wicks free from their spandex prison, and looks around the living room in an attempt to locate you. But after a few moments, he gives up and decides to call out to you instead.

"Y/N! Where are you, love?"

He yells, his rich voice echoing through the flat. A moment of silence passes, and Hobie's about to call out to you again, but before he does, he hears a long, pained groan come from your study. He puzzles as to what the matter is, before wandering over to your current location, wondering what on earth he's going to see when he opens the door.

But, like the gentleman he is, he knocks on the door to make sure he doesn't startle you.

"*knock,knock* Babes? You alright in there? Can I pop in"

He asks, genuine concern in his voice. You offer a half arsed

"Yeah"

In response. He slowly opens the door to see you sat in your office, face down on your desk, paint smeared all over your hands (with some having made its way into your hair), with the main light off and the little lamp on your desk acting as your only source of light; the mug and plate on your windowsill giving Hobie the impression that you have in fact been in here all day. To get a better look at you, he flicks the main light on, to which you respond by covering your face with your hands and whining.

"Hobie! Turn that sodding light off, it's too bright!"

You groan in displeasure as Hobie chuckles at your dramatic overreaction. He walks up behind you and gently places his rough, calloused hands on your soft shoulders, gently massaging them in an attempt to calm your scrambled brain. Your tense shoulders noticeably lower as you welcome his gentle touch, relaxing into his loving hands.

"What's the matter, love? Talk to me, ey?"

Hobie speaks softly into your ear as he gently strokes your hair. You slowly lift your head to reveal your paint splattered face, your eyebags having noticeably darkened.

"Before you say anything, I'm fully aware of how atrocious I look"

You chuckle at yourself before massaging your temple with your fingers, trying to ease the tension. Hobie's expression softens and he crouches down next to and brushes a stray strand of hair out of your face, before gently kissing your cheek.

"What's up, babes? Tell spidey-man what the problem is?"

Your cheeks flush a warm shade of pink as a smile widens across your face, loving every second you're with this wonderful man. Then you sigh and manage to explain the reason for your frustration and exhaustion in two simple words.

"Art block"

Hobie sighs in relief, glad to know that nothing too serious has happened. This isn't the first time you've encountered art block (and it certainly won't be the last), so Hobie knows how frustrating this can be for you.

"I'm sorry, babes. I know you hate it when this happens. What is it that you've been trying to draw anyw-"

Hobie peeks over your shoulder and is able to see what you've been creating all day. Numerous paintings and drawings of him are strewn across your desk, entire sheets of paper that you've dedicated to things as little as getting the tone of his skin just right, refusing to settle for anything but perfection.

"Oh, love. These are bloody gorgeous! I'm quite flattered"

He coos, his cheeks flushing a dark shade of red as he gives your shoulders a gentle, but affirming squeeze. You cover your face with your hands to hide your embarrassment.

"But they're not perfect"

You respond, your voice muffled by your hands. Hobie rolls his eyes at your response, takes your hands in his and slowly removes them from your face before bringing his face closer to yours, your noses barely touching as he locks his soulful brown eyes onto yours.

"Neither am I. But you love me just the same anyway, right?"

He asks genuinely. You rest your forehead against his, taking pleasure in the warmth that radiates from his skin.

"Of course"

You say softly as Hobie cups your face with his hands. You lean into them, reveling in the safety and security you feel whenever you're together.

"Then love your art the same way you love me. Can you do that for me, babes?"

You sigh and close your eyes, before opening them and smiling softly.

"I'll try, love. I promise"

(I genuinely have art block right now (and a cold) and it's making me want to curl up into a ball and die)

#hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x reader #gn reader #atsv #atsv hobie #artist reader

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rin-fukuroi · 5 months

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𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 [𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairings: Neuvillette x fem!reader

Warnings: just cute fluff

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

I've seen enough art with Neuvillette in glasses, so I couldn't keep it to myself anymore!

— Do you want me to… put on glasses? — the Hydro Dragon's eyes widen when he looks up at you, looking up from the stack of papers lying on his desk.

Your sudden requests and desires never cease to amaze him. Although people in general are still a mystery to Neuvillette, but you seem to be a puzzle for him, which he will never be able to cope with. Maybe that's why he fell in love with you for the first time. Despite the fact that your behavior sometimes raises a lot of questions in his head, the Chief Justice of Fontaine really believes that his place is next to you. Sudden changes in your mood are so hard to predict, and your actions do not cease to surprise him day by day. This… Truly beautiful.

— Yes, — you rest your elbows on the wooden surface of the table in Neuvillette's office, resting your head on your palms in anticipation. The eyes in which these fascinating sparks always dance, which the Hydro Dragon lacks, but for some reason, when you look at him as if he is the core of your little amazing world, the structure of which he has yet to understand, Neuvillette's gaze also softens, imbued with your infectious brilliance.

— Do you understand that I have no problems with my eyesight, right?

— Yes, yes, I am aware that you are my great Hydro Dragon, and human health problems are alien to you, but … I'm sure you will look stunning in them! — you smile radiantly, removing one of your hands from your chin to push your glasses a little closer to Neuvillitte's puzzled sitting figure.

— Stunning?.. — he's really confused, but it seems to mean that you think the glasses will look good on him, right?

The Judge's eyebrows furrow when he looks at the thing you so insistently suggest him to wear, and a quiet sigh escapes from his chest before the corners of his lips barely noticeably stretch into a smile.

You watch in anticipation as his long, thin fingers gently straighten the arches of his glasses, slowly bringing them to his face. Neuvillette's long eyelashes lightly touch his cheeks when he closes his eyes, carefully, as if in his hands a real luxury item, arranging glasses on the bridge of his nose. He is always so sensitive to any thing that you give him, whether it's a wardrobe item or a freshly baked bun, which is hardly worth being especially careful with. But that's why you love him. Neuvillette isn't tainted by human vices, is not spoiled by prejudices. He's just the way he is, and watching him will never cease to arouse your interest.

As soon as the mother-of-pearl pale purple eyes open, looking confusedly at you through thin glasses, your hands suddenly tremble slightly at your face. Neuvillette notices how your lips part and your pupils dilate while your eyes are mesmerized by his chiseled features.

Perfect.

He looks even better than you might have expected. The image of Neuvillette has never been quite modern, but the way glasses only complement his classic style of clothing, emphasize the correct features of his face, the way from such a small detail the aura of order and rigor emanating from the Supreme Judge is usually felt even more clearly, simply cannot but admire.

But the man is really confused. You are silent, without saying a word, just continuing to stare at him as if he is a painting painted by a talented artist in one of Fontaine's galleries. Nothing has changed, he's still the same as before, so why is your gaze oozing with adoration now, even more than usual? Can such little things really change the human perception of other people's appearance so easily?

— You… — finally Neuvillette hears your voice, sounding so frighteningly quiet. Your eyebrows furrow, and the Chief Justice straightens up in his chair, not understanding what you're going to say next. Are you happy? Upset? Did he make you angry about something? — You look absolutely gorgeous, Neuvi.

A burning warmth tingles Neuvillette's cheeks. He always feels so stupid when he can't figure out what you're thinking, but maybe that's the reason why his interest in you will never fade? You're so funny when you smile, slightly squinting your eyes and reaching out to remove a stray snow-white strand of soft hair from his flushed face.

Even if you have a much shorter period of stay in this world, even if you are so different that it even scares the Hydro Dragon sometimes, but he appreciates every moment spent with you, imprinting in his memory every smile that touched your lips, and every sound of your gentle voice addressing him with such awe that his heart can't help but beat faster in his chest.

— When we get home, you have to wear them again, because it's sexy as hell! — and again your mood changes, as if by a click, when you giggle, leaning back in your chair, playfully examining the confused expression on the face of the Supreme Judge.

His shoulders relax slightly, and his hands reach for the papers on the table again.

— If that's what you want, I'm ready to wear them whenever you want.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #genshin x you #genshin headcanons #headcanons #genshin drabbles #genshin fluff #fluff

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orangesaek · 1 year

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Ok so I've been learning Korean recently and thought it was so cute how 포포(popo) means kiss and 포도(podo) means grapes.

So Ive been thinking of a cute scenario with Mark where his s/o is learning korean and mixes the two up when asking for grapes and it makes mark super flustered.

omg my boy mark lee 🥹 i could easily imagine his flustered face lmao should i name this "the grape mistake"? 👀 sorry anyway, thanks so much for requesting this! let me know what you think ♡ hope you liked this! a/n: not proofread. lowercase intended.

mark was working in the studio late at night when you texted him that you'll be visiting him at the company to bring him some snacks and just hang out until he finishes work since you didn't have anything to do the next day anyway.

he mentioned about craving some street food the other day, and so you went to the night market. of course, knowing how much your boyfriend loves watermelon, you started looking for the nearest fruit stand. much to your dismay, the only fruit stand that was open that time ran out of everything else except grapes.

it hasn't been that long since you have moved to korea, but you were already quite quick to learn the language (also thanks to mark's help). however, you never really bothered to learn some of the most basic words for some reason. like fruits, for example.

you were just standing in front of the fruit stand quietly for about a minute, trying to remember a word you never even learned before. you were just about to say grapes in english when the stall owner decided to speak first.

"do you want to buy some grapes? they're fresh," she said. you knew she was talking about the grapes (because obviously there was nothing else in her stall but grapes), but it was the first time you've ever heard of the korean word for it.

"i'm so sorry, but what do you call this fruit in korean?" you asked, hoping she wouldn't find your question too silly. the stall owner gave you a bit of a puzzled look before realizing that you were a foreigner.

"it's called podo," she kindly repeated. after thanking the kind lady and memorizing the word in your brain, you went on your way to mark's studio.

on normal occasions, nobody else but strictly the company staff and artists were allowed to enter the building. however, thanks to mark's popularity within the company and the company actually owing him a lot of gratitude, you were given a bit of a special treatment as his girlfriend.

you were about to knock on the door of his studio but decided otherwise, thinking he might be in the middle of recording something and end up disrupting his work. instead, you sent him a text message that you were already outside of his studio, and thankfully, he was able to immediately open the door for you.

"my babyyy," he greeted in english, clearly delighted to see you again. more often than not, the two of you spoke in english whenever you're alone together. when his members are around, however, you'd mix korean here and there.

he ushered you inside before taking the food you bought for him and placing it on an empty table. he then opened his arms wide and patted his chest for you to come to him for a hug.

"you know you didn't have to bother, but thank you so much for all of this, babe" mark said as he tightened his embrace. "really appreciate it, thank you."

right after eating, mark went back to work while you quietly scrolled through your phone. the two of you were in comfortable silence though, and that was one of the many things that mark appreciated about you. you weren't the type to constantly seek for his attention, and you knew how to entertain yourself when he's busy.

"babe, there are still some grapes left, right? can you please get them for me?" he asked. you got on your feet and passed him the remaining grapes.

"thank you," he said before putting his headphones back on. he placed the grapes on the right side, which was on the other side from where you were seated.

while you were scrolling through your phone, you could see mark pop a grape or two in his mouth every now and then while he was on his computer. you never got the chance to taste one while you were eating earlier (because you were too full), and looking at mark just eating it so deliciously made you want to have some, too.

mark was about to put another grape in his mouth when you lightly poked his left arm. he then looked at you, the grape still between his right thumb and index finger.

"podo juseyo~" you asked in an aegyo voice, both hands open in a gesture to receive. mark blinked at you twice, suddenly feeling flustered while you were there just cutely blinking your eyes at him, waiting for him to give you the grape he was holding.

"w-what?" he nervously asked, his ears turning red at seeing you ask for a 'kiss' after briefly having a coughing fit (poor boy just choked on his own spit). it was definitely not the first time the two of you have shared a kiss, but it was the first time for him to see you ask for it so cutely.

"podo," you repeated. "isn't grape called podo in korean?"

mark's mouth fell in an 'o' after realizing what you have just said. he took off his headphones and asked you again if you were asking for podo, and not a kiss.

you broke into laughter, with mark sheepishly laughing along with you for his mistake. after laughing for a good minute or two, you then took mark's right hand (which was still holding the grape).

"babe, we can get the best of both worlds," you said, still chuckling and smiling in between. mark looked puzzled, wondering what you meant.

"we get to split the grape in two and kiss each other at the same time. like this," you raised mark's hand to your mouth, placing the grape between your teeth and motioning for him to lean forward.

mark chuckled at your idea but leaned in for a kiss and a bite of the grape anyway. needless to say, it was literally the sweetest and juiciest kiss he ever had.

- end.

requests are OPEN! feel free to send me an ask ♡

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nightyslibrary · 9 months

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(A Short Fic About) A Normal Day With Your Double Mutated Brother

☆ Fandom: rottmnt (au by @heckitall )

☆ Warnings: Nothing!! Just fluff and the boys being silly :]

☆ Word Count: 1432

☆ AO3 Link: N/A

☆ Characters: Leo, Donnie, Mikey

Uhh so I might have written something inspired by Heckl's comics and drawings :] go check his comics/artwork out!! Hope you like it (and happy birthday!!) (Also if there is any mistake... well, lets say its because it is 1 am)

When it came to playing video games the twins would always end up getting too invested in it, which either would turn up to them fixating on the game for hours or fighting over who could beat it in “the right way”. Even when the games were two player ones, they’d still do the same thing.

Not so surprisingly, this didn’t change even when Donnie became twice his size. Instead now the boys were sitting in Leo’s room, Leo laying his back on Donnie and playing the new the Legend of Zelda game on their switch. Donnie was watching the screen with joy, his tail wagging, and at times chirping to Leo.

“See? I can do the puzzles quite well.” Leo said without looking away from the screen. “I had told you.”

Donnie chirped as a response, as if making fun of Leo.

Leo turned to him, “Just because I got stuck it doesn’t mean I am not good with them. Now let’s go back to the depths, since somebody thinks I can’t handle it.”

The double mutated turtle smirked, making turtle sounds, before noticing something on the screen and pointing.

“Wha- oh shi--!” He yelped as he moved with Donnie’s arms holding him, making various sounds in the meantime. As Leo turned back his attention to the game, bleeping as he continued playing it with Donnie commenting at times once again. Just like before Donnie’s situation, as if nothing had changed. Everybody in the lair would agree this was nice.

Neither of them was sure how long had passed when Mikey entered with a smile on his face. “Are you two still playing Tears of the Kingdom?” He asked as he approached them.

“Yep.” Leo replied.

“It’s been five hours.” Mikey said.

“Uh-huh.”

“Which means nobody would say anything if I interrupted you for very important reasons.” He grinned.

“Wrong.” Leo responded.

“Don’t think Raphie or dad would agree.” Mikey said, knowing very well that he was right and the two would hear about how they shouldn’t sit down and play video games, forgetting to take care of themselves such as eating. Not to mention how Raph would take this to his advantage and get the switch for himself, not letting Leo play for the rest of the day.

The slider sighed and starred at his younger brother, knowing very well that Mikey had won. He saved his game and put the switch aside. Meanwhile, Donnie huffed from behind. “Soooo tell us about whatever that is very important?” Leo asked as he got up.

“I was thinking about how long the lair has been the same, and about how nice it would be to redecorate it.” Mikey explained.

“You’re the artist Mike, not us.” Leo pointed out.

“Weeeellll, I wasn’t only thinking about art. Remember the Christmas lights?”

Leo squinted at Mikey. “You want to decorate the lair with Christmas lights.”

“Yes!”

“In August.”

“Yeah!”

“…”

“You’ll ignore Halloween?!” Leo gasped, a bit dramatically.

“We can have Halloween later on!” Mikey retorted. “I just want to have some bright lights around, and maybe a few other new stuffs. A colorful lair wouldn’t hurt anyone, instead it would bring joy! Also, it is for art and creativity!”

“So, you mean you want to,” Leo snickered, and his brothers knew what was coming. “Lighten up the mood.”

Mikey groaned, while Donnie growled, both hating the pun. Leo giggled at his own joke, proud of it.

“Ignoring Leo’s terrible pun for my sanity, all I am saying is it would be nice if you could help.” The youngest said.

“Eh, sure.” Leo shrugged, not that he could say no. Donnie got on his feet too, careful to not accidentally knock anything down. He was still getting used to his new size.

With Mikey’s lead they walked out, heading to where Mikey already had the boxes filled with Christmas lights. “We can start from here, and then move to the living room. Leo, can you get the lower parts done?”

“Call it done already.” The slider winked as he walked towards a box.

Mikey joined him, grabbing lights from a different box, “Donnie can you help me? I need to reach the higher parts.”

Donnie chirped as he leaned for Mikey to climb on his shoulders, just like how he did with Raph. He carefully climbed and then patted Donnie’s shoulder to confirm he was ready. Donnie churred happily, he stood up again.

So, they began redecorating the lair with the lights, leaving some walls empty so Mikey could draw on them. In the meantime, they chatted, talking about various things and unimportant stuff. Filling the silence with happy chatter. Mikey would talk about his next art projects, then mention something that inspirited him, Leo would ask about it, and the conversation would go on.

It was just like every single time they spent time together, yet it was everything Donnie could ask for. The chatter of his brothers, Mikey’s unexpected ideas, Leo’s dumdum jokes… It was comforting for him.

So, comforting that---

CHURRR

Leo and Mikey stopped talking, looking at Donnie with surprise and glee. Donnie confusedly looked Leo and then at Mikey. As silence was the only answer, Donnie realized what he just had done. His brothers’ exclamation confirmed his fear:

“OH MY GOSH!!!” Mikey grinned as he jumped down to see Donnie better. “DID YOU DO THAT?!”

“DID YOU JUST CHURR?!” Leo wheezed.

Donnie chirped a lot, trying his best in his situation. It didn’t help that Leo kept laughing, and Mikey kept saying he sounded like a happy cat. Maybe if Donnie was his not double mutated self, he would’ve acted cooler and kept calm. But he was not and all he could do chirping. Which frustrated him even more, resulting him running out of the room.

Leo and Mikey were quick to follow him.

Donnie had lay under a pile of clothes, most of them being his hoodies and some of Raph’s sweaters that Raph had helped him wear (and later Donnie hadn’t let Raph get them back) in his room. His tail was visible, wagging angrily.

The two brothers approached carefully, not to startle him. Mikey looked at Leo, unsure what to do or say. He was feeling a bit bad for Donnie, but he still couldn’t help thinking that he behaved like a cat. Leo wasn’t feeling much different. He knew that he shouldn’t have laughed that much, while Donnie was still upset with his double this whole situation.

Leo was first to speak, “Uh hey Dee, mind if we join you?”

A growl.

“Aww come on, we got something to show you.” He said cheerfully, Mikey looked at him confusedly. The slider winked at him, meaning he had a plan.

Donnie didn’t leave the pile, but got his head out of it, enough to be able to see them. Leo grinned, and then chirped. Donnie’s eyes widened, surprised, and confused.

“I thought you had stopped doing it and were unable to anymore.” Mikey squinted at Leo.

“Well, maybe Donnie’s chirping has helped me figure it out, couldn’t it be?” He spoke.

Before Mikey could say anything and tell his disbelief, Donnie chirped.

Leo turned his attention back to him, “I have absolutely no idea what I am saying though, but- chirp!”

“Are you sure about not knowing what you’re saying?” Mikey questioned.

“Chiirp.” Leo smirked.

This seemed to lift Donnie’s mood a bit though. His tail was wagging in the happy way, and he began chirping again. Mikey joined too, since he never had hidden the fact that he still could chirp. Soon the room was filled with chirping of every sort, and the snickering of Mikey and Leo among them at times when one of them made a funny sounding one.

As the boys' conversation changed with the passing time, Leo turned to Mikey. "About the Christmas lights... you're definitely up to something." He said. "Could it be a prank against Raph?"

"Please, I would never." Mikey responded, obviously guilty. He didn't need to say it to confirm Leo's guess when he happily stimmed the way he'd do when he was excited for something.

"Get ready for a surprised Raph yelp, Dee." Leo looked at the clock on his phone. Then looked at Donnie. "He'd wake up any moment now."

Donnie chirped in response, letting Leo pet his back. Something that kept Donnie relaxed, they'd discovered.

Then they heard the surprised yelp, as Leo had guessed:

"ITS CHRISTMAS?!"

Leo and Donnie turned to Mikey, who was giggling. "Brumation prank," He grinned. "Never gets old."

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midnighttrain-project · 8 months

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Hello everyone! It’s time for another development blog!

Thank you very much for the support I received in the previous post! This time, the focus will be pixel art! In particular, we will talk about the creative process behind the new sprites of the remake.

As some of you may already know, MerúM is the artist in charge of the pixel art in Midnight Train. Let’s ask him some questions about it!

🌙🚂 Interview with MerúM 🚂🌙

Lydia: First of all, could you introduce yourself?

MerúM: I call myself MerúM. I am the pixel artist of Midnight Train: New Moon, and I am in charge of the sprites and animations of the characters. I also worked on Aria's Story and the previous version of Midnight Train doing the same job.

Lydia: The character sprites in Midnight Train: New Moon look quite different from the original version. Is there any reason for this change?

MerúM: Well, before the switch to RPG Maker MV, I was already working on the new sprites and animations for the Midnight Train remake. However, once we changed programs, I noticed that the character sprites were very small compared to the current screen dimensions. I decided that this was a perfect opportunity to redo the sprites from scratch as well, increasing their dimensions and detailing them more than the previous version allowed me, without wanting to move them too far away from the previous chibi style.

Lydia: Right now, you already completed all the characters sprites for chapter 1. Was there any challenge or something you’re really proud about?

MerúM: After changing the sprites, the expressiveness of the characters has improved a lot. Characters now have many more unique animations and expressions, solidifying their personalities. I think this new style works very well with the aesthetic of Midnight Train’s world and makes them look quite unique from character to character.

Lydia: Could you describe your workflow and what programs you use to create your work?

MerúM: For my sprites, I use Aseprite. Before starting with a specific character, I tend to draw their base sprites and their walking animations. After this, I receive a list of events that will occur in the game related to those characters, and then I create the sprites and animations that fit into said scenes using the base sprites as a reference. Usually, I am in charge of designing how these scenes will look in pixel art, but with some more specific or complicated scenes I have received a quick sketch of how the sprite/animation should look like as a visual aid, and thus arrive at the version that best suits the scene.

Lydia: I’m just curious about something… Who is your favorite character from Midnight Train?

MerúM: I think all the characters are fantastic, maybe I could consider Neil Lawton my favorite. I think, in the end, we should all be a little like Neil. Even if you are afraid at first to move forward, just do it. This is what Neil does, he may be afraid, but he faces this fear to survive.

Lydia: Is there anything else you would like to tell us?

MerúM: What else could I say? I think Midnight Train: New Moon brings a story that will appeal to anyone who is passionate about mystery stories. By the way, it's fun to mention that in addition to Justice, Purity and some secondary characters, I have been the main designer of Larissa, one of the new characters in this remake. I hope you play Midnight Train: New Moon and get to know her!

🌙🚂 Progress 🚂🌙

I hope you liked the interview with MerúM! I wouldn't have been able to create my games without his help, as I'm pretty bad at pixel art. I'm excited to see all the sprites he will create for chapter 2! I personally can't wait to see Apollo's animations. Now, I want to report about the development of the game. I’m almost finished with the maps of chapter 2, so I expect to start programming this chapter very soon! Literally, there is only one map left…! I wanted to add a new puzzle to this map, so I’ve been stuck brainstorming ideas… Ahh, it feels like facing a final boss before proceeding to the next step.

Thank you a lot for your support and patience! See you next time~

#midnight train (game)#midnight train new moon #midnight train game

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ask-humphrey-bone · 5 months

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hello humphrey!! I don't know if you've been asked this before, but who is your favorite ghost to hang out with? I know they forget about you pretty often, but it seems like they could all be genuinely good friends despite that.

Hello to you anon! What a lovely question! ❤️🗡️

Although they’re all rather, er, you know, towards me at the best of times, I don’t think it’ll be fair of me just to choose one, so I’m going to list a couple of good reasons for every ghost if that’s okay with you!!

Think I’ll start with the sweetest of the bunch: Kitty. She’s a lovely friend for exactly that. She’s a ray of sunshine with a smile who can really bright up even the dullest of days. I’ve always had a soft spot for her; she really is the baby of the group. After all, I got to watch her grow up and become the lovely young woman we all know and love today. Maybe she’s the niece I didn’t get to have, who knows.

Now, Pat. My fellow pain in the neck. Without him, my afterlife would somehow be even worse. His clubs and ideas of mashing up the old with the new to keep us entertained does us all a world of good, even if I can’t quite participate (or even be bloody bought over to) most clubs at a time, he makes the others happy which, in turn, makes me happy too.

Julian is, how you say, a double edged sword. He’s great if you want to party which at times I really do, and he’s also rather willing to put his powers into action. We’ve bonded a lot recently over this very blog, actually, and I’ve come to learn that, under it all, there really is a politician who listens from time to time. That politician can be all ears with me, too, which I really appreciate. He also provides a… er, interesting view from time to time. Cough.

Next, The Captain. He’s one of the few who will give my body a go at. In a good way, an innocent way. It may have taken him a couple decades to look me in the eye but, he can be some great company. He’s always keeping it physical. Not sure what he really feels about me though, that one’s puzzled me for decades.

Thomas is where things can get a little tough. In truth, he’s a lost little lamb. His artistic vision is something else entirely, so I do enjoy having a fellow creative soul in the house. He also provides the most lifts for me (he is my Uber) and I cannot knock him for that. He remembers me the most, and boots me the most. So, uh, yeah. Never quite know where I stand with him, but I have a soft spot for the idiot anyways. Unpopular opinion about Thomas: he deserves to be loved, too.

Mary was an amazing woman. She was wild, a little too the left, with a heart of gold. She also affectionately called me ‘Head Bit’ which I can now freely admit to missing greatly. She was the ghost who came to be after me and bought me much closer to the ‘real world’ as it was of our times. Like me, she was kind of misunderstood and taken for granted, too. I think we found common ground in that way back when. We didn’t hang out much, so to speak, though I doubt she’d regret that!

It’s always been a little tough with Fanny. She’s never thought highly of me, sure, but I try to not let that get to me now. We’ve had our softer moments, sure, and our harder ones, yeah. She’s softening up again to us all now though, and maybe she can let me in this time.

Last, but absolutely not least, is Robin. Mine and my wife’s oldest, wisest friend. Now we may not get to hang out as much as we used to, he’s got a lot of mates and distractions nowadays but, I know deep down, he really does care for me. He’s never stopped caring in coming up on 500 years which, damn, that’s quite a feat. Plus, no one really gave a crap about me in life and, I like to pretend that he did even if now I know he found his fun elsewhere. That’s ok, though. He’ll always come through for me in the end. He’s a true friend I feel lucky to have.

My goodness this is a very long response! I hope it’s worth your while, anon. Come to think of it, I’m not really sure I have a best friend of this bunch nor have a particular favourite of who to hang out with. It’s really just whoever may remember to bring me alone with them. Usually that’s Thomas, all things considered. And I’m ok with that, I think. ❤️

Humphrey x

#mr cheese has spoken #bbc ghosts #sir humphrey bone #humphrey bone #thomas thorne #kitty higham #the captain #Robin #pat butcher #julian fawcett #mary guppy #fanny button

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hotshoeagain · 1 year

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orphan-account fic rec

Okay, if you orphan your fic for any reason -- I understand we're not supposed to out you as the author -- even if we have a handle on the connecting thread.

So here are fics which I know were all written by the same author, who shall remain nameless (who I never knew personally so I cannot reach them with thanks for orphaning rather than deleting from AO3)

The Sea in a Chasm, part 1 of Sussex "The news of Sherlock’s impending retirement hits John like a physical blow. He looks around for something reassuring to stare at, something comforting, but the flat seems suddenly foreign and he feels that he is falling, falling."

Boundaries, part 2 of Sussex, a short sequel " 'Do try to have some sense, John.' John leans back and waits for Sherlock to figure out why that wasn’t good. Sherlock, to his credit, doesn’t take long. 'That was—not an optimal reply. What I mean is, you deserve better. Than having to take, my, um, my feelings. On faith.' "

Battle [ as far as I know, the only 221B ficlet ever written from Ella Thompson's PoV ]

Entanglement "... he puts the fairy lights away poorly after every Christmas to guarantee that he and Mrs Hudson will sit together and fix them the following winter. He enjoys the tradition of solving a puzzle while Mrs Hudson gives him her undivided attention; Mrs Hudson puts on Christmas carols to soothe her nerves while she and Sherlock work, which allows him to listen to songs with which he has sentimental associations ... "

Ash, part 1 of Fearful Symmetry "... so is John, the firelight lining his face with shadow. 'You lied, you broke my heart, you won’t even tell me your fucking names, and I’m like you.' John’s voice breaks. 'What could be on that stick, what could I possibly find there, that could hurt me more than that?' "

Evergreen, part 2 of Fearful Symmetry PAY ATTENTION TO THE CHARACTERS AND THE TAGS

Filament and Feather "Feathers ruffle, settle. 'Crows like what’s luminous.' Sherlock swallows. 'You channel it, John. The light.' "

Filament and Feather is what got me interested in this artist; linked from a lovely little bit of poetry (not quite a 221b) written by aderyn; and inspired by one of @khorazir's earlier drawings in this fandom.

If anyone reading this now recognizes the writer of these stories, and knows any more stories in the orphan account which belonged to them, please share. Because, whoever they are/were, that girl can make words sing.

#fanfic #fic rec #Filament and Feather #orphan account #thank you for not deleting your works!#AO3 is the best #aderyn #khorazir #BBC Sherlock #commented Mar 13 2023

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metvmorqhoses · 5 months

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Nononono waitttt what do you mean about Good Omens season 2?? Why didn't you like it?

I personally thought it was better than season 1 - better paced. There wasn't a single boring moment. And sure, the plot maybe had fewer stakes, but seeing as this was a bridge season between season 1 (the of Good Omens book) and hopefully season 3 (the book that never came out, “668” or something like that), I thought it was good. Warm & fuzzy.

I need to know your opinion now

As abashed as I am to have to respond to such enthusiasm with, well... the very opposite of enthusiasm, please at least know that I consider the truth the best thing I have to offer in general and in regard to that unfortunate (yet somehow still-untouchable?) mess the second season of Good Omens has proven itself to be in particular, so accept it as some sort of well-intended even if perhaps unwanted gift.

This is probably the most unpopular opinion one can have on Tumblr right now, so I'll go straight to the point: Gaiman managed to ruin Good Omens (perhaps he isn't able to write it by himself, perhaps he got carried away with fan service, who knows), once one of the most delightful, witty, engaging, profound books/shows existent, changing its register and raison d'être in order to turn it into, per great popular request, the same lame simple plotless cheesy cookie-cutter gay romance without rime and reason apparently every single piece of media is deforming itself into lately.

The dramatic loss of... artistic quality this show suffered is appalling and even more appalling is the fact I seem to be one of the very few on this green earth to have even noticed? Did I perhaps read too much in the show before? I don't think so, it was indeed a masterpiece. I saw many die-hard fans of the series beyond puzzled at this last season too, straining themselves to try and make sense of it with wild theories, justifying them with the simple fact that Neil Gaiman is a genius and surely this hot mess must mean something, right? I wasn't aware the world was mostly populated by hysterically besotted people hailing Neil Gaiman's alleged greatness from dawn til dusk without contextualized merit, and the discovery didn't particularly excite me, to be quite honest. I think a healthy amount of fairness in the critique of any artist should always be the norm, but I digress.

I'll try to keep it as brief and matter-of-factly as possible, especially since some time has passed and the fumes of my rage aren't as scorching or as precise as they used to be lol

In a word, this season was subpar. Not only did it lack that original witty, ineffable meaningfulness, that intrinsic and very human sense of wonder and protectiveness towards life and its profound sense the original show brimmed with, but even from the most basic literary point of view, it literally lacked a plot worthy of this name, a story, characters that felt complex and real instead of caricatures who tried and reenact themselves, and in general what should have been, quite simply, good writing.

More than Good Omens' long-awaited season 2, this felt more like a high-budget filler fanfiction created by someone who didn't know what they were doing with story and characters most of the time, but who sure as hell wanted to please the audience to disastrous lengths.

The very first thing that irked me beyond belief, and it literally started from minute one, was the immediate, more or less subtle, change in acting from both Michael and David. Michael stressed it way more, with, in my opinion, quite tragic results, thing that from the start immediately allowed me to guess where they were going with their (already established as extremely complex) relationship, entirely turning the vibe from sophisticated allegory of Divine Comedy kind of love (love for your enemy, love for your friend, love in all its form and in its entirety) to banal romantic comedy-level gay drama, downgrading what Crowley and Aziraphale shared (the subtle abysses of it!) into the most boring and obvious of soap operas, obviously forcing them to act out of character in order to compensate (was any flash-back meaningful to their character or the story? Was there a writing reason behind any of them beyond writing for the sake of filling screen-time?).

Some relationships deserve to be left alone, alone in their subtlety and ambiguousness or you'll inevitably ruin them. Not everyone must kiss on screen, no matter how much the audience screams and throws up for it. This little woke drama completely ruined and eclipsed everything else those two characters were for each other, turning them from cosmic and devastatingly loyal best friends to petty and dumb lovers that need two plot devices (the messy pointless and quite frankly offensive representation-wise lesbians from across the street they literally met five minutes prior) to tell them they actually have feeling for each other and should share them. After literal millennia of this relationship, relationship that has its own inner workings and reasons, we needed the plot-lesbians to subvert the order of things and spur Crowley into action, obviously obtaining disastrous and lame results? Are we witnessing the interaction of immortal beings or five-year-olds? The only way I can genuinely make sense of this dumbness is considering those two female "characters" (that feel anything but real people) no more than that, characters, golems, put there by Metatron via the power of the Book of Life (again, so many Chekhov's guns with no use whatsoever in this season) in order to separate Az and Crowley using the only thing that could succeed in doing it - an ill placed declaration of love.

But even this doesn't match the true être of what Good Omens originally was nor comes full circle with the ineffable mystery season 1 ended with. It genuinely feels like Gaiman changed the whole rhyme and reason of the story, vibes, meaning, register, just to meet the modern needs of a category that is sadly phagocytizes everything else in both life and fiction. And I find it a true pity - and a bore.

And even leaving aside this personal boredom of mine at a non-existent plot that consisted in 1) a big mystery that promised cosmic repercussions (season 1 ended with the after-nonapocalyptic world that was slightly changed just because two enemies had loved each other and life too much not to oppose god's plan - fact that was probably god's plan all along), mystery that was actually no mystery at all (two random, from the original story's perspective, previous minor characters in literally ten supernatural minutes fell in love and run away together) and that meant virtually nothing in the grand scheme of things, but serving as a plot device so that the other two minor new characters could intrude into the protagonists' relationship so they could finally have the excuse to jump literary genre and kiss & queer tragedy the story away 2) an endless series of symbols, facts, episodes and characters that constantly seemed to hint at something but that in reality resulted in nothing story-wise (also, the change of heart in God's personality, first the witty and almighty trickster for the greater good, now the divine bully??), even leaving all this aside, I'm mostly disappointed the quality of the writing plummeted so inesorabily one of my comfort show turned into the symbol of an artistic era I'm utterly distraught to have to witness - the era of crowd-pleasers and un-imagination.

As for this being a filler season, writing in such an unresolved way (basic and predictable plot, colourless characters, cliché romance, hours of happenings that don't mean a thing in the current story) is unacceptable and a failure, even if you are a famous writer. You cannot waste hours of the audience's time going nowhere shielded by the sole future promise of sense. Writing doesn't work that way, and I'm sincerely appalled to see people noticing it and deciding to excuse it with a "surely next season everything will look genius!". It doesn't work this way. The faults were too many, they can't possibly be all resolved next season. This product wasn't great, even if your faves kissed and your little fanfictions came true.

The sad thing is, Good Omens used to be a work of art, not the next consumeristic piece of fiction to satisfy woke needs.

#I don't want to sound harsh but this was a true let down #one of the many this year #art is dead #good omens #sofoulandfairaday #asks/replies #one and one thousand stories lis told

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dyns33 · 1 year

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Burning love

The Jon Dondon x female reader nobody asked for. Jon is very OOC.

They had met in an Art gallery.

Y/N had won free invitations thanks to a stupid contest on the internet. She didn't really know much about Art, except that it was either beautiful or ugly, interesting or very boring, complicated or terribly simple.

The exhibition included works by several very different artists, so she had been able to admire Art in all its forms.

It was then that she was admiring an abstract painting that Jon came to talk to her.

Quite honestly, he confessed to her later that he had thought she was the artist, or at least an artist, that he could have recruited for his agency, but he was happy to have spoken to her anyway.

They had discussed the work, Jon asking her what she thought of it, and Y/N answering that she didn't really know. She couldn't tell what it represented, or if she liked it.

"Well, I guess that's a good sign that it doesn't leave me indifferent."

"What do you mean ?" Jon asked, raising an eyebrow, puzzled.

"Well, there are a lot of paintings that you see without looking at them. Without it marking you, and which you almost immediately forget. You think, 'yes, not bad', but nothing more. Here, I believe that I don't like it, because it makes me uncomfortable, but at the same time I don't hate it, there is something... It's hard to explain."

"And that's a very good explanation of what Art should produce in people. Are you free tonight ?"

Very quickly, Y/N got to know Jon, but also to know Jon Dondon. It wasn't the same thing.

Jon knew how to be gentle, kind. He wasn't very good at socializing, but he really tried. Jon Dondon was thinking above all about his work and his reputation.

Always very honestly, Jon told her from the start that he didn't want anyone to know that they were together. He wasn't ashamed of her, he had no reason to be ashamed of her, but in the Art world you had to look available, detached, free and he had a few rivals who might use her against him, or try to hurt him through her.

In addition, he liked this separation between his work and his private life. She was like his secret, something he had only for himself. He stopped seeing other people, but he wanted to give the impression that he was able to have fun whenever he wanted.

It was difficult, but Y/N really liked Jon, so she accepted this situation, behaving like a stranger or a simple friend when they saw each other in public.

This lasted until the Dease paintings were exhibited.

Jon had asked her to come with him to give him her opinion, because even if he was an Art critic, he considered that she had more talent than him for these things. With Y/N's vision, his influence in the industry, and his gift for the right turns of phrase, he could quickly tell if this new artist had value or not.

As every time they collaborated, they separated to explore the rooms, before meeting in front of a canvas to discuss their impressions.

The tour was very quick for Jon, who was captivated by what he saw, like everyone else in the exhibition. Everyone except Y/N. She stopped at the first painting near the entrance, and didn't move until Jon joined her.

"So ? Your verdict ?"

"... You have to burn these things."

"... What ?"

"Jon. These things need to be burned." Y/N whispered again, shaking, totally frightened.

"Jon Dondon, please. And why do you say that ?"

She was unable to explain what she felt to Jon, and she didn't think he would have been able to understand, but there was something wrong with those paintings. Oh, they were very beautiful, very well done, but there was something else, dark, stale.

Of course, Jon doesn't write that in his article, just saying like all the other reviewers that Dease's work was intriguing.

He remembered all the same what had happened, deciding to carry out some research on the subject of the artist. But it was more because one of his rivals, Morf, seemed very troubled in Dease, and Jon was very keen to discredit him by finding something compromising.

It was pretty clear the day Y/N came home and came face to face with one of the artist's paintings. Jon had bought it because, as a good Art critic, he had to own at least one work by fashionable artists.

She stayed in the hallway, staring at the canvas, until he realized she was there. "You really don't like it ?" he chuckled without malice. "I thought a simple painting might be fine. A little weird, like all of his work, but appropriate. I think they look like us."

The canvas depicted a man and a woman. A couple. The colors were cold, dull, they had no face, standing, the man looking at the woman, who was looking at the viewer. She seemed sad, as if she was trying to run away.

Y/N didn't feel that. In any case, she didn't want to feel that. Sometimes, with Jon Dondon, it happened. But not with Jon.

"... No, it doesn't."

"If you say so. Anyway, if it's not us, it's ours."

"It's yours. If it was mine, I'd burn it."

They didn't argue. They never argued, Jon always thought he was right, and Y/N didn't see the point of trying to change his mind. She just ignored the canvas, going in and out of the house as fast as she could without looking at it. She sometimes had the impression that it was looking at her.

It was difficult. That, and the secrets, and Jon's behavior, began to rub off on her. Slowly, she felt like she was being drained of her joy, of her passion, of her life. As if she entered this cursed painting that she was trying to ignore.

As always, Jon saw nothing, continuing his research and his work. He had hired a private investigator to investigate Dease and he proudly claimed that he was going to find something soon, he felt it. Y/N sensed that something terrible was going to happen.

She decided to tell him, while they were at his office.

"Jon, I think..."

"Jon Dondon, please." he said, like every time they were in public.

"Don't go to your meeting with that detective. I have a bad feeling."

"I paid a fortune for it, and I hope to have results."

"Jon..."

"Jon Dondon."

"You..."

Y/N couldn't finish her sentence, struggling not to cry. It had been years since she had cried. Not once since she had met Jon, who despite his many faults made her very happy. He finally turned to her, and he seemed to see her. Really see her.

But something had broken, and she left without adding anything, leaving him alone.

At home, she stopped to observe the painting. The feeling was still the same as the first time, oppressive, bad. Y/N didn't want to think about it, occupying her mind by doing the housework and the dishes, which was useless, since Jon had a maid for that.

Lost far away, she didn't jump when a head rested on her shoulders, arms surrounding her gently.

"You ate ?" Jon asked, looking at the plate she had been cleaning for ten minutes.

"Have you been to your appointment ?"

"No. Tell me what's going on."

"Because you care now, Jon Dondon ? Why ? I've been telling you for weeks that something's wrong. But you don't listen, you don't see. You don't care, like you don't care about Art. The important thing is the appearance. The fame. The money. I know that's why you don't want us to be seen together, admit it. You're ashamed of me. You do not love me."

"I do love you."

"Really ? You saw a painting of an unhappy couple, a desperate woman, and you thought of us. Of me. Wonderful."

Jon didn't answer, his head still resting on her shoulder. Slowly, he took the plate from her hands, before turning her to face him. He looked at her eyes for a long time, as if searching for something.

"What can I do ?"

"Burn this painting. Forget this artist." she begged him one last time.

Silence returned to the house. Jon continued to stare at her, before looking at the entrance, where the canvas was. Without saying a word, he then left the kitchen, and Y/N was convinced that he had chosen. She was going to have to leave.

But Jon reappeared with a little metal box and matches. He took the canvas, placed it in the fireplace, sprinkled it with the contents of the box and set the fire without the slightest hesitation.

The flames reflected in his glasses, dancing close to him, but he didn't move, admiring his handiwork.

Not daring to believe what was happening, Y/N approached, equally fascinated by this spectacle, feeling all the fear and despair coming out of her. She couldn't help smiling as she looked at Jon.

"Jon... Jon...Thank you."

"You were right, it had to be burned."

"Are you sure ?"

"You're better at these things than I am. I'll... I'll tell the detective he can stop looking. I'll take some vacation too. We could go to Europe, or somewhere else. Spend some time together. I feel like we need it."

"Jon..." Y/N sighed, jumping on him to kiss him.

They were far away when they learned about the series of suspicious deaths that happened to all those who had participated directly or indirectly in the sale of Dease's paintings. For a moment they wondered if the same fate would befall them.

But Y/N still didn't know anything about Art, except how it made her feel, and Jon had decided to change his approach, trying to better understand the artists. Even if they weren't perfect, they had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, and Dease seemed to know it.

#velvet buzzsaw #jon dondon #jon dondon x reader #jon dondon imagine #jon dondon fanfiction #tom sturridge #tom sturridge rare characters

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yurisorcerer · 1 month

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For the second time this week, I tried to turn my notes on an anime episode into an actual article for my site but couldn't get it to cohere well enough. So you guys get it instead, hopefully you enjoy it regardless.

Usually when I talk about the inherent pacing differences between an anime and a manga, it's to complain, but this episode is a pretty astounding example of an anime production intentionally exploiting those differences to make certain emotional beats hit harder.

To recap; in a manga, you are able to read at your own pace. Some people breeze through manga, some people go out of their way to savor every page, but because you're restricted to your visual senses and their interpretation of ink-on-paper, there's a lot of imaginative work going on on your end. Anime, just by its nature, inherently eases that burden a little bit. You've got an aural component to soak in (not present in a manga), and the visuals move with motion and color, something also absent in the still page. This is the entire artistic reason that anime adaptations of manga exist at all. Done well, they can selectively enhance certain emotional currents of the work. If done very well, they can do so without displacing the original work itself. That's what the Dungeon Meshi anime accomplishes here. Anything else aside, that's pretty impressive.

Seeing Marcille and Laios assemble the grim puzzle of Falin's blood-soaked and half-digested skeleton is one thing on the printed page. Those pages are very effective in their original format, but the scene is transformed here, because we really have no choice but to stew in it. The medium forces us to slow down and really focus on what they're doing; clicking bones together piece by piece, soaking their hands in dragonblood and gore. In Marcille's case, her actual spellcasting is brought into a deep crimson technicolor. The anime's presentation really makes it hit home; she is bleeding onto the ground, chanting ancient, forbidden magic in a desperate bid to bring Falin back from the grave. Laios' emotional state shouldn't be undersold either, as fascinated as he is by the actual act of assembling the skeletons, the moment Falin finally does return to life, she and her older brother share a genuinely very sweet embrace, even as Falin herself is still quite confused as to what's going on.

About that; in the area of scenes altered by the simple fact of being in an anime, we have to talk about the bath scene. In the manga, the bath scene is full of a fair amount of ambiguity, something I'm far from the first person to take note of. The anime, of course, can't replicate that precisely, so it has to pick and choose what emotional undertones to access and which to discard. All told, I'd say the scene is adapted pretty fantastically; it's tender, full of soft colors, and it preserves the push-and-pull dynamic of Marcille and Falin's conversation pretty well. About all that can't be said is that it's a straight improvement, which, really, when you're working with source material as good as Dungeon Meshi, is not a bad thing. I think the bath scene in particular is a good locus for what works about this episode; managing such a delicate scene so well is unimaginably tough, but the team working on the series pulled it off admirably. (As a Lesbian Side Note; both Marcille and Falin look amazing here, as you'd probably expect.) There are a few notable differences; things that seem obvious but pop out if you know what you're looking for. I'm mostly thinking how Marcille's facial expressions are a lot more obviously-flustered here as opposed to the somewhat more ambiguous ones in the manga. But again, an anime has to pick what emotional currents it's going to emphasize.

There are other points to hit on; the obligate dragon-cooking scene is as great as you'd expect, and there are some great character moments between Falin and the rest of the cast. Obviously, with her brother (where he does a very Elder Brother thing by mussing her hair), but also Marcille and even Senshi. (The only one who doesn't really get in on the action is unfortunately Chilchuck.)

#Dungeon Meshi #yurisorcerer talks about media

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gnomens · 1 year

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long mystrade fic recs

I love Mystrade, so here are some of my favorite fanfics. These are all medium or long and all are complete. They are masterpieces with much angst and only the happiest of endings. I highly recommend checking out all of these authors’ other works. Some may be locked to unregistered archive users.

Lullabye by Mottlemoth | E, 20k, Complete | Soulmates Twice a year—on your birthday and theirs—you can hear your soulmate's voice throughout the night. It gives each fated pair a chance to talk and bond before they meet. Sharing names, locations or other identifying details is unwise. It's rumored that if you try it, even in hints, the connection will be severed and you'll never find each other. Today is Mycroft Holmes's 38th birthday. He and his soulmate have had two nights together a year for the last two decades, never even knowing each other's names. But it's getting harder and harder to keep saying goodbye.

Under the Rose by Mottlemoth | E, 125k, Complete | Past Trauma, Secret Relationship It's no surprise for Greg Lestrade to discover that, when it comes to relationships, Mycroft Holmes doesn't really do things like other people. Mycroft's lack of experience and intense need for privacy will take some special care—but that's fine. Greg's always been a patient man.

End Game by Mottlemoth | E, 160k, Complete | Sex Holiday, Friends with Benefits to Lovers Mycroft has a problem. After a drunken New Year's Eve at Baker Street gets out of hand, this preoccupation with Greg Lestrade doesn't seem to be going away. He makes Greg an irresistible offer: seven days alone together in paradise, to be with each other and exhaust the craving. Sadly for Mycroft, Greg comes with irresistible offers of his own—and seven days in paradise might not be enough.

A Christmas Carol by Mottlemoth | G, 40k, Complete | Post Break-Up, Reuniting "All lives end... all hearts are broken." Mycroft Holmes never needed a reason to loathe Christmas—but getting dumped by the love of his life certainly did the trick. It's been a year since Mycroft lost the man he adored, and with Christmas Eve fast approaching, he's counting down the hours until all this festive lunacy is over. Sadly for Mycroft, fate has other plans. It's going to take three ghosts to show him the error of his ways. But can he make amends in time? Or will he prove to himself, once and for all, that caring is not an advantage?

Portrait of a London Vampire by Vulpesmellifera | E, 30k, Complete | Vampires, Hurt/Comfort Struggling artist Greg Lestrade lands his big break—representation by one of the most prestigious London art galleries. When his newfound status hooks an attractive and puzzling patron, dangerous desire and a daunting dilemma spins Greg about in a troubling fog. To complicate matters, someone is brutalising his neighbours, leaving behind gutted bodies, faces frozen in a rictus of fear. Grief stirs old, painful memories, wrapping Greg in a sticky web of want and deceit. At the web's edge, the East London Butcher lurks.

Written in Skin by Vulpesmellifera | M, 25k, Complete | Soulmates, Blind Greg Mycroft Holmes lives a quiet, steady life. He works. He paints. He takes walks. It’s what he does to ignore the flurry of partnering around him. Whether it’s the biological drive to mash two bodies together, or the religious dictum of the salvation in finding one’s Devotee, it’s not for him. It won't ever be for him. Until the day he meets a blind man in the park. The world will never be the same.

All Else Above by Meansgirl | E, 140k, Complete | First Time, Sex Work, Family Trauma Mycroft Holmes' life isn't going according to plan, and there is little he can do about it. His career is a mess, his house is a shrine, and he can't even manage to get laid. In fact, he's never quite figured that last thing out. Maybe it's time. Perhaps, if he could work out how to have a relationship, he could work out the rest. Enter Greg Lestrade, who comes highly recommended by Mycroft's shark-like coworker and sometimes-friend, Alicia. Mycroft, under the impression he is going to see a counselor, is shocked to realize he has been misled.

If You Ever Hunger, Hunger for Me by Meansgirl | E, 115k, Complete | Age Gap, Kinky with Heart Greg notices the kid watching him, and for a moment he fantasizes about watching back, doing the old once-over and eyebrow quirk. Do people still cruise like that? AU with a younger Mycroft, who can't stop watching the silver fox at the pub.

If That’s All There Is by Meansgirl | E, 55k, Complete | Depression, Family Trauma The slow-motion breakdown and hard-fought redemption of Mycroft Holmes.

#mystrade #fic rec #mystrade fic #mystrade fic rec #mystrade fic recs #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes x greg lestrade #mycroft x greg #fic recs #sherlock #sherlock bbc #ao3 #ao3 works #archive of our own

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starleska · 1 year

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So, I was casually perusing through your naughty tag and... WHY AM I JUST NOW REALIZING THAT YOU'RE THE DIAMOND CUM WRITER??? I MUST HAVE READ THAT YEARS AGO.

It's inspired, really. I've heard of fantasy genitalia before, but never fantasy cum in that manner. However did you think of such a thing? 😆 💎

hahahaha, surprise!!! 😂😂😂 yes indeed, i am the writer of the infamous Rouxls Kaard Diamond Cum™ fic, and i am very proud of that fact 😉 going to pop the rest under a readmore, just for the adult content! little bit of fandom history in here 🔥

thank you so much!! honestly, i think Breaking the Rouxls must seem extra-weird now in current fandom climate, but i can tell you exactly why i came up with this concept. i wrote the fic very shortly after the first chapter of Deltarune released, as i was fixating hard on Rouxls and was so fascinated and delighted with his design and character. Tumblr felt similarly: there was an enormous slew of fanart for the Deltarune characters, and we were all quite insane because none of us were expecting the game to release!! remember, we had no idea what Deltarune even was, and Toby just casually dropped it on Halloween in 2018 👀

Rouxls in particular received loads of fanart - of course, because he’s a Tumblr Sexyman 🥴 because we'd only had the characters for a short period of time, artists were experimenting with the Darkener aesthetic: how to play with light and what the physiology of these characters may be. one recurrent motif we saw for Rouxls in those early days - even with the nsfw content - was to see him with a kind of jewel-like body, or with a crystal shimmer to his deep-blue skin ✨ i think this came about for a few reasons: his regal form of dress and archaic way of speaking; his grandiose theme song and the light-beam, glittery sound effects which accompany him; and of course, his awesome Hip Shop theme with the little sparkles coming off of him 🥰💖 one way or another, Rouxls quickly became associated with jewels and gems!!

now, this was just before Tumblr's nsfw ban, which came into effect on the 17th December 2018. the Deltarune characters were the last characters to be lewded extensively on this site, as far as enormous fandoms sweeping the blogsphere go. and i’ll be honest: i saw countless interpretations of Rouxls and his body during that time, and there was some really stunning ideas with him having a kind of crystal/glass cock. i was desperate to write some nsfw for Rouxls, and whilst the premise came easy - an obnoxious Lightener trapped by the Duke of Puzzles in his dungeon - i wanted to add an unusual flavour (besides, of course, the fun of constructing Rouxls’ broken Early Modern English 😂). so i went with xenophilia/monsterfucking ideas, and thought...how does his body work? what kind of genitals does he have? and then i thought...what forms in the dark, and under immense pressure? crystals. gems. diamonds. so yeah, that was the thought process 😉💖 all these years later, i’m still really proud of that fic!! it was such a joy to write (i think i wrote it in a highly-caffeinated 24 hour period), and it reminds me, when i’m getting bogged down with other writing, to loosen up and have a bit of fun. it’s a relic of an era of fandom which has sadly ended, but i’m really pleased that so many people enjoyed the fic then and now. Rouxls deserves even more love honestly 🥰

#tysm for bringing this up hahaha what a lovely trip down memory lane #deltarune #rouxls kaard #deltarune chapter 1 #breaking the rouxls #naughty tag #suggestive #starleskasks #starleskawrites

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ponds-of-ink · 1 year

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Notre Dame AU One-Shot: “To Sketch A Specter”

In case anyone was wondering why I haven’t been active as much today, um.. This is why. 😅 This took pretty much all afternoon, but I’m happy with how it turned out! @angeygirl, I hope I did Mable justice. :D

It was a busy afternoon at the Fazbear’s Kingdom attraction. Young couple filtered into the small chapel to survey their future wedding destination. Curious children ram around the main area, telling tales of fantasy and mayhem as their parents watched from a nearby sitting spot. As for the teens and adults, not many stuck around for one reason or another. The few who did were either trading sketches of the grand facade on the outskirts or trying to scrounge up loose change for Sun’s Traveling Caravan. One such person who fell into the former category met up with those in the latter. “Excuse me,” she said to one of the quarter carriers. “Do you know where I can find The Bell-Ringer?”

The boy quit scrounging for loose change. He looked at her with a puzzled expression. “‘The Bell-Ringer’?” he echoed. “Isn’t that just some way to explain to the kids why the clock tower goes off every hour or so without boring them to death?”

“Not necessarily,” the woman replied, turning to face the towering castle walls. “I heard from one of the workers that there’s someone actually up there. Dunno if it’s just some guy or a projection, but you can catch him at certain hours.”

The boy checked his watch. “Is one of those hours coming up?” he asked as he gazed up at the huge clock tower. “I kinda want to see this.”

“I have no idea,” the artist answered uneasily, taking a few steps forward. “All that the employee told me was that to look for a flickering lantern, then watch the bell itself. If you go inside the castle and view it through the Princess’s Perch, you’ll get a much better look at both the lantern and the Bell-Ringer.”

“Well, that sounds like your ‘quest’ now,” the boy quipped as he stretched wearily. “I’ve been running around the entire mall all day, and I’m not going to let my aching feet take another step. I’ll be sure to watch from down here after the show, though, Miss.. Uh...”

“Mable,” the woman answered simply. “You can just call me Mable.”

“Mable.. Right..” the boy muttered as he walked back to the decorated wagon. Then he added aloud with a wave: “Have fun trying to find that perch! Believe me, it’s a maze in there!”

Mable only waved back before entering the front courtyard. Her footsteps slowed as she took in the scenery. Despite being an impressively carved facade for a walkthrough attraction, it still had the look of a true castle or that one famed cathedral in France. Looming and majestic stone structure. Colorful stained glass painting its colors onto the “cobblestone” floor. Stairs partly under sweeping arches that slowly bathed the curious wanderer in shadow. Two giant ironwood doors that guarded whatever—or whoever— lurked inside. These two doors Mable shoved her shoulder into, slowly but surely allowing her in.

The incessant creaking those doors produced alerted the costumed employees. “Welcome, weary traveler!” one of them cried out after she fumbled inside. “Are you here for an adventure of a lifetime?”

Mable opened her eyes to see a long hallway with a velvety carpet leading to a somewhat elderly-looking man dressed in a scarlet-and-gold robe. “I guess so,” she answered honestly while advancing towards him. “I’m just here to find The Princess’s Perch.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place!” the man exclaimed with some jollity before gesturing to a small door with his walking staff. “Beyond that door is the path you must go to reach the Perch. But be warned: The time of the flickering lantern approaches. That means the Judge may be surveying the upper levels, ready to hunt down anyone daring enough to try this challenge.”

Mable raised an eyebrow at the last remark. “What’ll this Judge do to me if I get caught?” she inquired slowly as she made her way to the door.

“Hopefully, he will let you off with a warning,” the man responded warily, stepping in front of her and unlocking the door with a keycard. “If not, then be prepared to either be sent to another section of the castle— Or worse, be cast out of here altogether.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mable concluded as she began her trek up the winding staircase. “Thanks so much!”

“You’re very much welcome!” she could hear the man call out as she climbed higher and higher. “May the golden lamps guide you...!”

Now left alone with her thoughts, Mable kept ascending the steep stairwell. Her surroundings grew darker and darker as the narrow “windows” to the outside world became scarcer and scarcer. Fake candles soon took their place. The deafening silence gave way to an ethereal melody. And, as she finally neared flat ground once more, a glowing light aided her to the top. A shame that the source of the glowing light was yet another long hallway. This time, with blacked out arches and eerily familiar marble floors. Mable’s eyes lit up. “Hang on,” she thought as she properly stepped into the room. “This almost looks like that one level in Princess Quest I, except...” She halted her musing to peer through each open doorway. “That’s weird,” she muttered to herself. “There’s no monsters here like in the game. I guess I could see why they wouldn’t be able to put them in, but—“

Padded, static-ridden footsteps cut her words short. Thinking fast, she dove into a shadowy corner and stood as still as she could. Her fast-acting rewarded her with an unexpected sight: A cartoonishly blonde-brown rabbit dressed in judge-like robes phasing into the room like a literal ghost. It looked around, twitching its whiskers with a sneer. It pulled out a small bell from some pocket and rings it. “It’s almost time again, Agonia,” it announced in a deep, authoritative voice towards the two shut doors. “The Northern Wing must tremble with the clangs of those bells.”

Mable waited for the doors to open, but nothing happened. Only the rabbit’s perked up ears and self-satisfied smile told her that this “Agonia” had responded. She cautiously side-stepped to the nearest open door as the rabbit walked in the opposite direction. Then, feeling a new sense of dread, she hurried down the corridor and into another chamber.

Before her now was four LED torches boxing in a tile puzzle at the center of the room. Said puzzle seemed to be easy enough for the average family, but the dim lighting and the ever-present passing of time made her mind race. She tried several different combinations by moving the tiles with her feet. An abstract compass. Triangles stacked on top of each other. Even a simple square looked like a good option. Finally, after what felt like hours, a hint revealed itself. The edges of the puzzle lit up with four different colors: Red, blue, green, and yellow. Those same four colors were present in the tiles, albeit in a more muted tone. “I’m supposed to match up the edges with those colors, aren’t I?” Mable asked tiredly as she shoved the tiles once more.

The edges glowed even brighter once everything was in place. A click from the adjacent set of doors confirmed the poor girl’s suspicions. Shaking her head, she walked past the lanterns and into yet another chamber.

This time, a wide hallway riddled with pits and more red-tinted tiles greeted her. She walked up to a red tile to step on it, but a message scrawled on the wall stopped her: TOUCH THE RED, THINK YOURSELF “DEAD”.

“That makes sense, I guess,” she muttered, taking another look at the placement of the tiles. “They do line up with where the enemies would spawn in the game..”

Carefully, she backed away from the danger and started her trek again. Her lips moved faster than her entire body while maneuvering, mouthing either where each imaginary enemy’s location or the mantra the wall had given her. By the time she neared the scribbles on the wall, the melody died away. A faint thunk reached her left ear, making her head turn in that direction. Amid all the pitfalls, there stood a white-and-gold door shining like a beacon in a stormy sea. Her legs trembled as she removed herself from the wall. Step by step, she navigated the rest of the labyrinth.

Soon, she shoved herself into bright lights and fresh air. Her eyes widened as they processed her new surroundings. Instead of a rainy night “sky” and a graveyard, she was standing on a balcony overlooking the rest of the Kingdom. She leaned over the railing, surveying the events below. Sun’s Caravan sprang to life with its eager host regaling some tale of yore. The teens that once lurked in the outskirts now stood a short distance away from the clock tower itself, a few even having their own sketchbooks out. Mable’s eyes drifted from the group to the top of the tower itself. The clock’s hands marked five minutes before the hour while a black-iron lantern showed its purple flames restlessly moving in their glass chamber. A smile grew on Mable’s weary face. She had done it. She had already made it to the Princess’ Perch.

Unfortunately, her joy diminished as those same padded footsteps emitted from behind the white and gold door. She whirled her head to look at the wall behind her. Two wooden signs hung on the stone wall. One that said “Princess’ Perch - Rest Here if You Are Tired” and another that just had an arrow pointing to an ironwood door. She swung open the second entrance and hurriedly closed the door. Now she was plunged back into near-darkness. However, she lingered near the door for a moment. Waiting. Listening for the padded footsteps to go away.

The only thing Mable heard in that darkness, however, was that same booming voice issuing out a warning of “five minutes to the hour” to the Bell-Ringer before leaving through the same door he entered. A relief for her, yes, but now she had concerns for the poor soul forced to do this. “I hope he’s not as stuck as I am,” she muttered to herself as she glanced over at the puzzle before her. “I’d hate to solve any of this on top of having to ring that bell.”

Seeing as she was most likely stuck in here, however, Mable pressed on. She looked at the unlit lantern, then at the empty “crevice” blocking her from her exit, and finally resting her eyes on more etching on the wall. “‘What color was the lantern’s flame on the Princess’ Perch?’” she read slowly, hoping that the barely visible black-light paint was highlighting the words correctly. “‘Purple, yellow, green, or blue?’”

Pulling out her sketchbook, she wrote down her answer and pinned it onto the wall. “Please accept this, O whoever runs this puzzle,” she pleaded in a low tone. “I seriously don’t think I can shout ‘Purple’ out loud right now.”

To her astonishment, the unlit lantern flared up with a golden glow. Another question revealed itself on the wall adjacent to the crevice. “‘What time did the clock show?’” she asked softly before returning to her sketchbook. Scribbling in an answer, she hung her page up against the wall. “Is this right?” she questioned a tad louder, gazing up at the ceiling as if there was someone controlling things above her.

A section of the floor slowly slid out from underneath the pitch-black rectangle. The ever-so promising click of an unlocking door made Mable’s heart race. “Thank you so much,” she whispered to her unseen guide as she walked over the ‘bridge’. Elated with her current situation, she swung open the door and entered into the main hall. Another thunk followed, this time accompanied by fairy-like lights and more ethereal sounds. “Congratulations!” the robed man’s familiar voice called out around her. “You have found both the Perch and the way out! Now, before you leave, you have a choice to make. Beyond those doors is the way to escape the maze, but you will be unable to go back and see if you’ve missed anything. If you decide to stay a while longer, the doors will remain open. However, you will run the risk of encountering the Judge and losing it all. Tell me, O brave defender of the realm, what is your choice?”

Mable checked her watch. It was now three minutes to the hour. “I only have one question,” she said aloud, cupping her hand to her mouth. “Do the traps reset themselves if I decide to stay?”

“No,” the man answered promptly. “The only trap you will have is the Judge himself.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then I’m definitely staying,” Mable grinned, making her way back to the starting puzzle with an eager stride. “All I have to do is wait it out on the Perch, do what I need to do, then hurry out the exit. Shouldn’t be too hard now that all the obstacles are turned off.”

“Very well,” the man responded solemnly as she navigated the maze much more swiftly. “All I can ask is for you to not be so sure of yourself. He’s very quick to disappear into the shadows..”

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir,” the young woman answered as she put her hand on the white-and-gold door. “Thanks again for the help!”

With one cautious push, Mable re-entered onto the balcony with much greater enthusiasm. Her eyes bounced from the clock hands to the lantern. She neared the railing and pulled out her sketchbook. The clock ticked as she flipped to any empty page. Her smile grew wider as she returned her attention to the scene before her. “Five,” she mouthed along with the ticking. “Four. Three. Two...”

The lantern’s purple flame flickered in-and-out, as if a great wind threatened to snuff it. A lanky, tattered figure materialized right in front of the artist’s eyes. Seemingly unaware of her presence, the ghostly stranger picked up a huge strand of rope and tugged on it with all his might. The bells clanged, forcing Mable to cover her ears with one hand and her shoulder until the ringing stopped. Then, when all was quiet again, she scribbled her rough outline as the stranger disappeared. Mismatched, hunched over, yet somehow strong enough to ring a giant bell— this was the Bell Ringer in a nutshell for her.

Somewhat content with her work, Mable strolled to the other side of the balcony. She took one last look at the view before entering back inside the building. Her footsteps lightly carried her as she crossed the bridge and once again completed the loop. She skipped to the two doors with bright eyes and a mind at ease.

A faint creaking put out the shine in those eyes. Mable froze. She listened once again for those padded footsteps. Only silence greeted her.

Mable crept back to the adjacent room on her left. To her surprise, the Bell Ringer was also peeking behind a door. “Hello, um,” Mable sputtered out, brushing back a strand of her long hair. “I’m just about to leave, don’t worry! I was sketching out the tower, and—“

The Bell-Ringer put a skeletal pointer finger to his mouth, as if to noiselessly shush her. Then he gestured to certain words and letters on the walls.

Mable stared at him slack-jawed for a minute or two, but a repeat of the gesture made her realize his intentions. Using her sketchbook, she translated his movements: “What—d-i-d—y-o-u—d-r-a-w–?”

“Well, I drew a bit of the tower itself,” Mable answered, flipping until she found the correct page. Then, she lifted it up to the lantern’s light so he could see. “I tried to sketch you too, but it came out a bit rough. Sorry if I didn’t nail your... um.. physique at all, Mr. Bell-Ringer.”

The stranger looked at the sketches, then nodded slowly. “Good drawing,” he signaled.

“Thanks,” came the woman’s sheepish reply as she flipped back to her original page. “Hey, can you stand there for a second longer? I think I can do a better job now that you’re actually here.”

“All right,” the poor man answered via his ‘code’, readjusting himself a little. “But please hurry.”

Mable bobbed her head in agreement, then got to work. Her pencil flew through the structural part despite having to deal with a half-human, half-pixelated face (among other things). She did falter a bit on the cross-hatching section due to having to account for the pupil, but that could be fixed later. All that mattered now was getting the subject matter properly represented in her style.

Meanwhile, the man tried to stay as still as possible. He did let his eyes repeat the “hurry” message whenever she looked up from her drawing, but her confidence eased his worries a bit. So much so that a new thought came into his mind: What if, when the Judge came by and saw them, he could cover for her somehow? Say that he got too curious and stalled her when she was really wanting to go back to the outside world, maybe? That technically was how they got to this point, so the alibi could be fool-proof.

Fortunately for them both, that moment never came. Mable closed her sketchbook and gave him a thumbs up. “It’s been fun exploring this place and getting to know you better, but I’ve gotta go,” she quietly explained as she waved. “I’ll send you a finished version of the sketch, Mister... Uh... What’s your real name?”

“Agonia,” he answered before pointing to himself.

“You’re Agonia,” Mable replied, putting a hand to her face. “I should’ve remembered that. My bad.”

Agonia noiselessly chuckled, then shooed the flustered sketcher back into the main hall. With one final wave of his hand, he vanished behind the door out of sight.

Still reeling a bit from the encounter, Mable pushed through the two golden doors and entered into the final chamber. Above her was a mural with a yellow-dressed princess running from a shadowy creature and the words “You survived the gauntlet!”. Feeling even more proud than before, she descended the much more grand staircase as a fanfare sounded. The closer she reached the bottom, the more commotion she witnessed. Employees dressed in medieval garb talked in hushed whispers around the man in the scarlet robe. She couldn’t gather much of what they were saying, but she figured it had to have been about her and that dumb judge. “I’m all right, by the way,” she announced to them as soon as she made it to solid ground. “I made it out alive, and I got what I needed.”

Some of the employees stopped talking instantly. Others hurried to her side and inquired about a lot of things. A few stayed behind to give one final warning to her once-jolly guide before joining the questioners. Though this was a bit stressful to enter into, she humored them with her story.

#william afton #fnaf au #fnaf oc #not my oc #notre dame au #hunchback of notre dame #fnaf security breach #agonia #purple guy #fnaf fanfic #one shot #oc fanfiction

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whentranslatorscry · 5 months

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Chapter 1: Kakushidate Yakusuke Being Hospitalized (3/3)

At last, the puzzle pieces fell into place.

Kondou-san's request was to find out what exactly was the malaise he felt. He wanted to know "that feeling" which he himself could not articulate and I also could not sense just by listening to his account.

Of course, if there was nothing, there was no way of knowing what to find out, and even if there was something, Kyouko-san might not necessarily be able to point it out.

After Satoi-sensei's case and then Sunaga-sensei's case, Kondou-san probably overestimates Kyouko-san's abilities more than necessary. She really just happens to be relatively better at strictly abiding by confidentiality agreements; she is not omnipotent.

Well, maybe Kondou-san only meant to smooth things over in his own way of doing things. He seems to be trying to play matchmaker between me and Kyouko-san at every opportunity. But he shouldn't have the leisure to be concerned about our idle affairs, with his circumstances.

"No no, Yakusuke. I know what you're trying to say, but I have my reasons too. It has to be Okitegami-san, no one else. Of course since this isn't something I want brought to light now, it's natural I want it handled in absolute secrecy, but the point I want to emphasize in particular this time is speed, rather than secrecy. And that's why I need Okitegami Kyouko. I mean to rely on Okitegami-san's talent as the fastest detective. As we're far too pressed for time."

"Pressed for time...? What do you mean?"

Yes, in addition to "the forgetful detective" Kyouko-san had another nickname: "the fastest detective." But why the urgent need for speed?

A week had already passed since the incident. I hate to say it, but at this point, no matter how fast we are, it may be too late.

"I'm aware that Fumoto-sensei is going through a tough time, but 'Verywell' is a weekly serial manga after all,"

Said Kondou-san, practical as always.

He said he wouldn't stop an artist that really wants to quit, but as the editor-in-chief of the manga magazine, he seemed reluctant to let the artist he had high hopes for leave the industry just like that.

Just as a detective must keep secrets, he said,

"Manga artists, too, got deadlines to meet."

Chapter 2: Kakushidate Yakusuke Commissioning

"I'm Okitegami Kyouko, the forgetful detective. Nice to meet you."

The next day. As usual, even though it wasn't our first meeting, Kyouko-san appeared again with the same greeting and walked up to the bed in the center of the hospital room.

"Oh."

She stared intently at my right leg—right thigh, specifically, where the fracture was and the cast was put on.

"K-Kyouko-san?"

I asked, baffled and anxious about her fixed gaze and our unexpected proximity.

"Nothing, pardon me,"

Kyouko-san straightened her hitherto hunched back.

"I fancy the idea of a broken bone. So I lose myself while inspecting one."

It was quite something to say in front of someone nursing broken bones. Well, I suppose it made for a suitable icebreaker for our supposed first meeting. Maybe breaking my bones was worth it after all.

Was it, though?

However, it didn't seem to be just a joke to close the first meeting distance. Because Kyouko-san said,

"Let me touch it for a bit!"

Without even waiting for my consent, and she touched the plaster cast on my right arm as if examining a patient, speaking as she did— huh, getting a cast makes you so popular, I felt like I was back in school.

Maybe it was the hospital setting, Kyouko-san— already with white hair— was dressed entirely in white. She wore an embroidered long dress with a coarse striped cotton blouse with long sleeves, and had a thin silk scarf wrapped around her neck—the only black item were her conspicuously dark glasses frames.

"My, how wonderful, how cool."

Why was she so fascinated with a plaster cast... She acted as though scrutinizing a piece of evidence that would crack a case, and I could only let her do as she pleased.

Some people really have incomprehensible hobbies.

I don't believe my plaster cast had anything to do with the case... Well, during the "Unreturned, Unprocessed" incident, it was by picking up the smallest threads of clues left at the scene that Kyouko-san succeeded in grabbing the culprit.

Regarding this middle school girl's attempted suicide case, perhaps from the two plaster casts on my body she really could dig up a truth that would make one's jaw drop— I didn't dare casually ask what she was doing.

Rather than compromise, I asked Kyouko-san this.

"Have you never broken a bone before?"

With no other intention than the literal meaning of the words.

"Never! That's why I'm so fascinated by it!"

She replied, not sparing a glance at me and continuously touching the plaster cast. I couldn't just blithely accept her answer at face value.

Kyouko-san, being a detective who loved to put herself in danger, it was hard to imagine she had never been injured before—even if she thought she had never broken a bone, it was likely just that she had forgotten.

With Kyouko-san wholly absorbed in the plaster on my hand and leg, allow me to explain the defining traits of this forgetful detective. When I first commissioned her she was still a detective known only to those in the know, but lately the forgetful detective's fame has steadily risen; perhaps you have already heard of her.

But with her being the forgetful detective, some may have already forgotten.

Okitegami Kyouko, chief of Okitegami Detective Agency.

Though since it was a one-person company, she was both the chief and the sole employee, handling everything from business to PR to accounting by herself—a detective without a Watson at her side.

Such a lone wolf of a detective was a bit of a rare sight.

I understood even then that she was highly skilled, but the defining trait of Kyouko-san as a detective was not actually her abilities. As can be inferred from her nickname of "forgetful detective," the keyword for her was: forgetful.

Kyouko-san only has today.

Her memories reset every day—sleep the night, wake in the morning, and everything that happened the day before is wiped clean from her mind.

No matter what kind of investigation she participated in or what kind of truths she uncovered—the client's affairs or the murderer's affairs, all information would vanish like smoke, without exception.

All memories erased.

Strictly speaking, for a detective whose job implied prying into others' secrets and exploring the underbelly of society, this was an extremely advantageous trait. From a confidentiality viewpoint, there simply couldn't be a more stalwart assurance from any other detective.

It was indeed because of this quirk that Kyouko-san had also undertaken many commissions that delved into state secrets or international affairs. Even dangerous requests that could threaten her life if exposed, which most detectives would shy away from, she investigates fearlessly.

It's so miraculous it's more of a gift from nature than a quirk. Of course, such an advantage comes with its challenges.

Her memory resets daily— meaning no matter the case, it has to be solved within a day— because the evidence gathered and deductions made would be forgotten in a day.

Be it intricate cases or impossible crimes, she is on the clock.

The Forgetful Detective, while maintaining an absolute seal of secrecy, must also abide by a time limit—otherwise she cannot complete her tasks. Thus was born "the fastest detective."

Being forgetful, she became the fastest— the fastest detective was none other than the forgetful detective.

The famed detective solving any case in a day— to be precise, when taking on a commission, "can it be solved within a day" was her criteria, and only when she was sure that it could be solved would the Okitegami Detective Agency take on investigating the case. In other words, the reason Kyouko-san took on this case—the middle school girl suicide case introduced through me by Kondou-san—despite it being a request that looked to the layman's eyes like it didn't even have a place to begin, was that she was convinced the tangled knot could be undone within the day.

"Ah... This has been most satisfying. Thank you."

Kyouko-san said some incomprehensible words of thanks and finally let me off the hook. Due to my propensity to be wrongly accused, I've had the forgetful detective help me out of trouble several times, but I was beginning to genuinely worry whether I had simply missed opportunities in the past to realize this woman might actually be a dangerous character… So, her decision to spare me left me sighing with relief from the depths of my being.

By the looks of it, (it looked like she'd really had enough fun, so naturally) her frolicking with my plaster cast hadn't been her true purpose for this visit; Kyouko-san finally came to the point.

"As we're pressed for time, we best get down to work. You're Kakushidate Yakusuke, yes? Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Without even knowing who I was, she just felt her way over my broken areas in that very pressed time. Just what was her deal?

Also, just to reiterate, even though the forgetful detective had helped get me out of trouble multiple times, Kyouko-san had, predictably, forgotten all about those past instances. Be it the first or the hundredth time, to her I was always a first-time acquaintance.

Even if we forget her merits as the forgetful detective, the fastest detective, even if she wasn't at the apex of the field, Kyouko-san was still an exceptionally capable detective. But my hesitation to seek her help each time stemmed from my reluctance to endure this blow.

Hence I only sought Kyouko-san's help when I absolutely needed to 'forget' or needed the 'fastest' solution, or like this time, when someone had asked me to introduce them.

...Come to think of it, I hadn't even introduced myself yet, and Kyouko-san said "nice to meet you," so how did she know who I was? I did give my name when I called this morning to request her services, but she shouldn't know that the person on the phone was I.

Perhaps my puzzled expression gave it away, and Kyouko-san pointed to the bed railing.

"Voilà."

More specifically, she was pointing at the patient name card attached to the bed railing— which had my name, Kakushidate Yakusuke, written on it along with date of birth and blood type.

This observation may seem trivial—hardly what one would call the "observational skills required of a detective." But perhaps that's what deduction is, the accumulation of such minute discoveries.

"The time now is ten past ten."

Paying no heed to my admiration, Kyouko-san glanced at the clock placed by the hospital room window. As she said, the hour and minute hands formed a nice angle.

We'd agreed to meet earlier at ten.

In other words, Kyouko-san had spent exactly ten minutes playing with my broken bones despite the limited time. I regretted allowing her to waste ten of those minutes like this.

Despite the fault not being mine.

"A complex situation we are dealing with. We’ll have to coordinate our plans with both Kondou-san and Fumoto-sensei. Regardless, let's set our initial goal to solve this within the next twelve hours. That is to say, by ten tonight!"

"Wait… twelve, twelve hours!?"

I exclaimed in surprise at the revelation of such a specific timeframe. The fastest detective however considered this more than ample.

She had planned a meeting with Konodu-san and Fumoto-sensei that afternoon to discuss the details. Understandably, she meant to provide ample time for that.

"Firstly, allow me to pose a few questions to you. Though you haven't directly contracted me, you nonetheless seem involved in this case,"

With a decisiveness unimaginable from someone idly playing with plaster, Kyouko-san got straight to business with the utmost efficiency.

"Ye-yes, I am,"

I answered. There was no denying my involvement as I'd been at the heart of the incident and nearly lost my life as a consequence.

She then persisted,

"Before we proceed, Kakushidate-san, is it safe to assume you hold no murderous intent towards the middle school girl?"

With a question that sapped all my strength away.

My hand and leg already broken, how was I supposed to go on living if I kept getting sapped like this— but if you said getting questions like these was normal, then so be it.

It appears Kyouko-san wanted to start by confirming whether I was "truly" falsely accused or not. This was not meant specifically for me; as a fundamental part of Kyouko-san's attitude as detective she seemed to have an unshakable creed that "the client lie."

It was a lonely but accurate truth.

In my eyes, a relationship where we'd known each other for so long yet were unable to build any trust, filled with unspeakable futility and emptiness.

Not unexpected that we couldn't get close to each other, her being the forgetful detective and all...

"Before I received the call and arrived here, I had already glanced through the contents. Some media reports referred to it in passing, so I wanted to reconfirm. Please don't take it to heart,"

Kyouko-san said. It was clear to me she was waiting for a response; she wouldn't gloss over it.

"No such thing ever happened,"

I said helplessly.

"I didn't know what happened initially. My mind was empty; I could not remember anything. All I remember was leaving work for home. I heard a cracking noise followed by a blackout. Next thing I knew, I woke up in a hospital bed, buried under an almost unbelievable reality— a girl had plunged from the top of a building on top of me. This preposterous fact, I only learned about later,"

I was beset with overwhelming woe, so much so I sighed to the heavens. As if my luck couldn’t get any worse, I became a prime suspect. The sprawling details that came later were enough to make me hang my head and weep.

"I see. It would be a long shot to calculate the exact time and place of her landing. Just catching her, let alone rushing forward to harm her, quite a stretch."

"Right, right? I can't fathom why they would accuse me."

I sent her a plea for help unconsciously, just like old times. Clearly it wasn't about clearing my name this time, but it seemed I had grown the habit of seeking her help whenever I saw her.

That being said, although I chose to ignore those reports soon enough, they were, just like Kondou-san said, lacking in authenticity. Therefore, the widely discussed reports began to die down the day before yesterday. Or perhaps they were preparing to sensationalize other trends; just the nature of media.

"But Kakushidate-san, didn’t you notice? If you had seen the middle school girl falling, you could've dodged,"

She asked this quite naturally.

If I had dodged, while I'd be unharmed, it wouldn't be the case for the middle school girl. She was gravely wounded and unconscious. She might have died instantly if I'd stepped away. From a detective's standpoint, it was a reasonable question. I wasn't saintly enough to assert I wouldn't have dodged if I had noticed.

Because I did not see it coming, it led to this misfortune.

On a side note, it’s rare for one to walk on the street and look straight up— who would anticipate a girl falling on them from the sky?

"I understand. I will choose to believe you,"

Said Kyouko-san, seemingly accepting my word. I gave a sigh of relief and the burden lifted upon her trusting me, but suddenly, she spoke again.

"Kakushidate."

Did she still have doubts about me? I felt disheartened.

But that was not the case at all; as she’d said, her investigation of me was finished. Because what Kyouko-san had asked next was:

"Since ‘Kakushidate’ is kind of a mouthful, may I address you as ‘Yakusuke’ from now onwards?"

Kyouko-san only has today. All memories of before yesterday, without exception, are wiped clean and reset to zero— but experiences remain.

Since we've known each other so long, her body still remembers even if her mind doesn't, that's why she wants to call me Yakusuke— or was thinking like that a bit optimistic? Just wishful thinking?

The real reason was probably just that Kakushidate is harder to pronounce than Yakusuke, or perhaps because the latter has fewer syllables and saves a bit of time— or maybe it's just based on the rationale of choosing the "fastest" option. It's also possible she just felt like it today (or maybe touching the fracture elated her), and the next time we meet, with her reset memories, she's sure to go back to calling me Kakushidate.

Just a trivial thing of this degree.

Such a trivial thing made my heart flutter yet Kyouko-sam herself didn’t seem to care in the slightest, carrying on as if I had already agreed.

“Yakusuke-san, when I got your call, I already heard the rough situation from you, but allow me to rearrange it.”

The fastest detective does not stand still. "Aside from the marvelous… oh, I mean, serious harm you suffered, this time I'm asked to investigate the reason for a middle school girl's suicide attempt, correct?"

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#translation #okitegami kyouko #the testament of okitegami kyouko

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heta-fraulein · 1 year

Text

Rough Sketches

A/N: Prepared for @hwsrarepairweek2022 for the prompt: Writer & Artist. It’s nothing much really and it’s rather corny if I am being honest. I simply couldn’t hold back any ideas I got for the prompt and went rather overboard with it. <3 there are more coming!!

pairing: Norway x Belarus, mentions of Germany//Ukraine, Denmark//NyoFinland.

word count: 3,841

Warning: cringe attempt at poetry.

summary:

you meet inspiration in the most bizarre or unique ways, perhaps this was one of them and Natalya hoped to have many more in the far off future.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

The faint sunlight pooled around her desk, highlighting her messy set of papers, some pens, sharp pencils and a sketching book she had taken with her that day. In case of boredom or a dose of inspiration.

She rubs a messy sketch and sighs deeply, narrowing eyes set on the paper just itching to be filled below her eraser. It’s not that Natalya was often moody- somewhat antisocial? Yes that was certainly- but she hadn’t planned to come here at all.

Of course she would never choose to leave her homely and a cozy abode; her hotel room, in the name of inspiration or motivation for that matter.

It was her elder sister, Kateryna, who had dragged her out of her room, when she had tried to reason with using her sketching sessions as an excuse and also a valid reason, all she got was a stern stare with a slight pout,

“Well you would definitely get more motivated in the lounging room~, staying all cooped up would do you no good! Maybe you could meet another artist”,

After that, she had gotten a lecture about how having picked up painting as a hobby during her long years; the great outdoors and mingling with people, had been great sources for her art. With saying that Kateryna placed her supplies on a table near an opened window and gave a beaming smile.

As much as Natalya could have turned around and left, something in her never failed to stir whenever her sister gave that smile of hers.

That’s how she ended up wanting to smash her head against the table; not wanting to upset her sister, who so cheerfully conversed with Ludwig just near the coffee machine. She opted to glare at her sister and her crush for a moment, to give her brain some stimulation.

After a while, other morning risers (although it was about to be afternoon, the rest would be be sleeping after the meeting they have had), began arriving and generally just going about their conversations with their friends.

She noticed that most of them were the Nordic nations, being greeted by the couple she was glaring at, usually paying no mind to the group but Natalya had a tendency to be aware towards her sister’s interactions, a habit picked up besides sketching.

Kateryna seemed to be close with them, and noticing that eased up her nerves quite a bit, Ludwig slowly placed his hand near her sister’ back, muttering something near her ear, in turn she moved towards him with a puzzling, flushed expression.

Natalya slightly smirked at the interaction, lately she had noticed how Ludwig was getting more closer to her. Bringing her a coffee after a meeting, admiring her paintings, driving around to different places whenever they visited a different country or even opting to bake with her. He was very attentive towards her and caring too.

Maybe they both were getting closer; as Ivan had whispered to her after he decided to spy on them on their ‘dates’, (badly) disguised in a long beard and sunglasses. She would have joined too, just for the fun of it, maybe she would have joined their date too as a third wheel.

Humming Natalya tapped her rubber lightly towards the empty paper, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and with furrowed brows, turned the paper around.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

“You know, time zones sure do suck a whole lot!”,

Mathias let out a boisterous laughter after his comment, followed by giggles and low muttering of agreements.

Besides him, Lukas puts his roughbook down, keenly looking around the table, mostly at the ‘couple’ they have lately grown accustomed to.

They were pleasant and thoughtful to converse with so he didn’t really mind. If anything, he found them both to be a charming pair or maybe that was just the poet within him.

His curious eyes follow Kateryna as she sets down her cup of coffee, still giggling slightly and nods towards Britte with widened eyes,

“Honestly you should ask Britte about the sleepy state Alfred was in; about to fall down the stairs if she wouldn’t have grabbed him in the last second”,

The Finnish woman nods with a wide grin, sipping her coffe, head tilting in thought. Ludwig tried hard not to snort at the image but fails in doing so making Mathias grin with content,

“Mathew wasn’t so good either, I was lucky enough to catch Alfred, do you know how heavy and muscled that boy is? Goodness”,

She shakes her head recalling the memory, giving Mathias a knowing look as he grins, flexing his muscles and directing a wink towards her.

“Not as me right?”, he asks humorously and she gives him a slap on the back as an answer, both of them chuckling with amusement.

Across from Britte, the blonde Ukrainian lady prompts her chin down on her palm and absentmindedly stirred her coffee,

“To be fair”, she takes a generous sip of her coffee, “Matthew isn’t muscular as Alfred, I would say. Sure a strong boy but even I could have caught him myself y’know!”,

Kateryna jokingly proceeded to copy Mathias’ movements and flexed her arm as well, making the man snort while drinking his coffee. She then suddenly grabbed Ludwig’s elbow, his confused face seemingly adorable to the lady, who then pinched his cheek,

“If it were Ludwig tho, this tank of a man, I wouldn’t have bothered at all”,

Ludwig blushed and gave an embarrassed smile as laughter followed the statement, although it was quite a compliment admittedly. Mathias gave a nudge to his foot and subtly winked towards him, making the man confused and somewhat excited.

That was the face of a troublemaker indeed. And it was alway a delight too.

The Danish man took a wide finishing gulp of his coffee and slammed his empty cup down the table, drawing attention towards him and somewhat the few occupants of the lounging room,

“So, Kateryna,” the lady and along with his lover stared at him with a puzzled expression, Lukas prayed he wouldn’t say anything dumb but still raised his eyebrow with curiosity, Ludwig proceeded to finish his remaining piece of a croissant, nonetheless focused on the situation.

“I take it you like a man with some strong muscles huh?”,

Ludwig chokes harshly and gladly takes the glass of water passed by Britte, who was now grinning at a blushing form of Kateryna, Mathias silently cheers at the desired reaction and once again begins to nudge Ludwig beneath the table.

Heading towards them from the kitchen, Berwald emerges with a tray of croissants and some other baked stuff, confused at the situation. Beside him, Emil looks unimpressed as ever and Lily holding his hand, seems to be quite curious.

“Well, it sure does help, no?”, Kateryna finally comments with a cheerful voice and places a hand on Ludwig’s shoulder, the man now blushing as red as a tomato from the contact and her contented smile,

Adorable. Really. Now kiss already.

Lukas lets out a snort of amusement at his own thoughts and shakes his head at the Dane’s behavior, he can be ridiculously nosy with other people’s love lives, and sadly that included his as well.

Berwald places the tray on the table and bends down to whisper something to Lukas’ ear. The latter then gets up, excusing himself from the group, Berwald now taking his seat besides Mathias.

“My man”, Lukas visibly shows his deadpanned eyes filled with dismay as Mathias slams a hand on his back, “when are you getting yourself a lady huh? Look at you— your hair’s turning grey—“,

Mathias is harshly cut off by Berwald, the man who he definitely owed a favor to, tugging at his collar. Followed by cursing and a series of whining, taking his cue Lukas gives a smirk towards them and walks away, with his book in hand, towards a certain lonesome lady.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

Natalya was hoping to draw something mystical, she had drawn some flowers— wow so original— and some sketches of her cat. Although what she did not expect for her hands to do was the fact that-,

“I must say; I am quite flattered”,

Lukas wryly grins at her faint exasperated expression, placing a hand near her sketchbook and staring at her product. A sketch which clearly appeared to be him, drinking his cup of coffee, writing something on his book with a calming expression, it was quite rough but had a beauty to it which appeared so soothing to look at.

“If you wanted an inspiration that badly, I would have been honored to help you. I do have a mystical appearance as people say”,

He continued rambling, his tone light and teasing, the sketching was amazing. And honestly he was beyond impressed at the raw talent displayed all over the page.

“Oh really”, Natalya almost stammered and innerly cursed herself. This was so embarrassing! Great, her sister would never give her a piece of mind after this. Not to mention, now everyone would be bothering and teasing her after this.

And she preferred to be left alone with her works, these were precious and personal to her. It wasn’t something to display so openly to everyone else.

Lukas frowns as she slams her book shut, Feigning an innocent expression, he slightly smirks as she turns towards him with an irritated glare,

“I was actually looking for an inspiration regarding trolls”, She looked up and down over his form and then gave a pleased smirk of her own at his deadpanned face, with a sharp raise of her eyebrow.

“You would fit the role perfectly”.

Lukas grumbled and crossed his arms, shuffling on his feet, his eyes though remained on the sketchbook she had closed earlier. Curiosity gnawing at his heart and mind alike, fingers gripping his book tightly, itching to write.

Natalya opens the book again, only to quickly turn to a fresh page and tap it with a pencil, biting her lip and trying her hardest to ignore the man standing next to her. She was not nervous. dammit.

She decides to simply ignore him. I mean maybe Kateryna was done conversing and would drag her to some other places, but she could see her sister enjoying herself with her group of friends.

And it was a genuine happiness she had seen from her, bold and clear laughter could be heard along with her expressive voice. Natalya sometimes wished she could have that as well, a genuine closeness with people she could trust.

Ludwig was a hard man to trust for her. But he had been patient and always respectful towards her, even his brother was the same. They both conversed about several things and never crossed their limits with each other.

A money of brief silence passes between them until Lukas decides to gracefully break it,

“You gave me wings”,

Natalya’s pencil comes to a halt as she slowly turns towards him with a deadpanned face, ignoring her heart beating vigorously against her chest.

This was really stupid.

“It was nothing”,

“Faint, but quite visible, it gave a mystical look. I am really…. glad that I got to see it”, he mumbles now, voice on the low as his eyes scan at her present sketch. Huh, a butterfly, a very elaborate one at that.

There’s a shudder when she breathes and finally with a sigh, Natalya turns towards him. Directly looking at him in the eyes.

And Lukas feels it.

The absolute raw emotions and feelings which shine in her eyes, there’s melancholy and a longing for something that cannot be reached. There’s something in her expression, unreadable, yet it’s trying to display a sense of familiarity.

It’s a closure of a messed up soul, calling for someone who does not seem to be trustful. Or maybe it’s herself she does not trust, with her messy emotions and flurry of feelings which brews a storm, always aching within her bones.

She does not trust herself to not break, the moment someone touches her with love she has craved and longed for all along.

Lukas shakes his head, turning away from her, he doesn’t notice her stare soften or her hand clenching the pencil at the moment.

There’s a tense feeling between them, he simply doesn’t know how else to explain it. Or his feelings right now for that matter. He tries to calm down the rush of a burning feeling on his chest.

Once again, his hands itch to write something and the grip around his book tightens.

He tries, he does, he fails.

Perhaps.

“Her petals wilt at the edges”,

Natalya, once again looks at him with those same eyes, seeming to hold so much at once.

Lukas pretends to think, stroking his chin and whimsically staring out of the window. However his mind was scrambling for words to spill already.

“A Rose?…. Hm, yes, she was a rose”,

The lady in question gives an unimpressed raise of her eyebrow and continue to stare at her drawing of a butterfly.

“Her heart blooms,

Or tries to,

Desperately beating,

And hopelessly bleeding”,

He drums his fingers on the table now, trying hard enough to describe the image present on his mind. It was hard to do so. But he could almost explain it, the words seem to weigh heavily on his tongue.

“A rose and then a heart? How romantic”, Natalya murmurs and gives him a side eye, although dare he say, she almost seemed to be interested in what he was trying to convey.

He gives a disdainful sigh and places his book on the table, which she decides to take a complete look at, eyes on a hunting spree for any secret she could find. There was none.

It wasn’t really his journal, just a rough book he had picked up along the way.

Though the last entry seemed to catch her attention quite well, with a whispery voice she reads out the lines,

“A rose

Yes

She was a rose

A rose who wilted

Waiting for one

Who dared to grasp

Her thorns

— A rose”

Lukas shrugs and rubs his neck awkwardly, “I once read that somewhere”, he admits. He wasn’t going to take credit of something he didn’t write obviously.

A finger lightly traces the lines, deep purple eyes look up at him with a hint of growing curiosity,

“Oh? What did you write it down for?”,

“An inspiration, you could say”, He simply answers with that to her question. It was true, sometimes someone else’s writings motivates and inspires him to create something new and with a hint of familiarity.

“Similar to being inspired by a sketch?”,

“Well yes, of course”,

Natalya hums and turns the pages of the book, trying to read every inch of whatever was written. It was charming, to have someone be so interested in wanting to read what you have written.

“I was never good with words, never doing me any good, making me feel more confused to describe what I felt, it was frustrating; trying to find words which could explain what I always wanted to”,

She tells and he listens.

“I could never reach out, the only comfort I could find in, was to make things that I could understand myself and that was through art. I did what I wanted to and it displayed it perfectly, with its raw scars ever present”,

There’s an understanding silence stretching between them.

“So you closed yourself in? Because you could never truly express yourself through words?“,

She doesn’t answer but yet he knows.

“Could you describe me? As you were doing so before, I would like to hear it”,

Natalya closes his book delicately, and folds her hand on her lap. A series of words run through Lukas’ mind once again and he almost stutters, similar to a pen drying up.

There’s a comforting silence and Lukas almost doesn’t want to break it, but she has asked him to and he wanted to comply.

“She was a rose

Wilted at the edges

Black as coal

Yet she blooms forevermore

Against the brewing cold

Which freezes her to the core”,

Think you idiot.

“Struggling against the frost

Against the encircled thorns

A heart desperately

Trying to bloom and beating

Weeps silently and keeps locked

All the burdening sorrows”,

He sees her nodding, eyebrows scrunched together now. She seems to be more intrigued in whatever he was saying, although it was corny.

Once again, he takes a deep breath now. Trying to think of something unique to describe her as, or even himself for that matter, both of them weren’t so different after all as he would have thought before.

Natalya had always been a mystery to Lukas at first; sharp and indifferent to her surroundings and other people. Blunt and clear with her words, never to back down form her point of perspectives. Cold and distant from everyone else, except her siblings, occasionally Felix and his newfound date, Sophia.

Kateryna had always complimented her sister, even though she appeared to be rude towards her. Always willing to defend her image and striving to make her mingle with other people.

He could see why was that so. It was somewhat similar to Britte and Mathias wanting to make him come ‘out of his shell’, though he was content with his relations with other people with how they were without any bothersome issues.

Natalya wasn’t a bothersome person, if anything she was quite calm, and very guarded about herself.

“She was a star

So distant and so far

Unreachable and untouchable

Shimmering as a dagger

As a lonesome tear

Riddled with scars

Almost could pierce your heart”,

His words come out slow and he puts on a thoughtful look on his face, head tilted and his eyes wander towards the artists sitting beside him, doodling something as he starts forming his own thoughts into solid words,

“That’s enough thinking for today”,

There’s a awkward cough from him as he stammers inaudibly, trying not to lose his cool composure. Damn it, out of all the times in the world it had to be now that his brain stops working?

Natalya completely turns towards him and gives a lopsided smirk, there’s an ease in her composure at the moment. Her eyes no longer narrowed and shimmering with amusement, he doesn’t know.

“Well yes, I should….”,

Lukas trails off as he notices the pretty star drawn on his book, it was rougher than her previous sketches and yet never failed to look so beautiful nonetheless. To be fair, it was drawn fairly quickly, he had to give her credit for that.

A small smile forms on his face and the Belarusian noticeably flushes, her cheeks a shade of red. She gives a firm nod with a hint of a smile, closing his book gently and slides it towards him.

“So much for inspiration”,

Natalia states dryly, giving him a sly smile, he rolls his eyes playfully and grabs his book. There’s a silent goodbye between the both of them, which they are glad for, there wasn’t a need for words anymore.

For now that is.

Lukas feels her stare on his back as he leaves on his way and doesn’t miss the way his heart flutters similar to the wings of a butterfly.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

“Natalya~~ so did you get motivated?? It’s such a lovely weather today, let’s hang out somewhere nearby!”,

The sound of Kateryna’s voice is loud enough to rouse her awake from her thoughts, stretching her back for a moment, she quickly gathers her supplies and gets up from her seat.

“I wouldn’t mind that sister”,

There’s a flash of a surprised look on Kateryna’s face at the reply but it’s quickly gone and replaced with a calm expression.

She then notices a covered cup which is offered to her, Natalya raises a brow at her sister who only gives a silent shrug of her shoulders. Taking the warm cup, she nods thankfully and doesn’t really mind when her sister wraps her arm around her and grabs Ludwig’s hand with the other.

“It would be wonderful, no? Ludwig, you could invite your brother and Francine as well!~ maybe the Nordics could come too”,

“Of course, it would be my pleasure”.

Ludwig stared at her fondly for a moment and a soft smile graces his face, this is the moment which Natalya notices and a slight twist forms in her heart at the scene.

But it isn’t painful. It almost feels like hope.

She truly hoped, that one day someone would stare at her as if she was an art itself as well. So gentle and filled with adoration.

The coffee tastes sweet and it’s quite lovely on her tongue.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

Lukas pays no mind towards Mathias as he keeps bothering him with questions he doesn’t care enough to answer.

“So, got any luck with the ladies yet?”,

He grips his phone and rolls his eyes at the Dane’s question, who no doubt snuck alcohol into the cafeteria lounge. Couldn’t he head to the bar made specifically for that purpose?

“Man”, he burps loudly and Lukas stares at him with utter dissatisfaction and disappointment, ”you should have told me you had a crush on Kat, I mean going for her sister when that didn’t work out—“,

Lukas couldn’t help but stare at the man with disdain, really he was one of his closest friends, he was joking right?

“I could have hooked you both up fr, know what I am saying?”,

Alas he wasn’t about to get answer from the Norwegian as Britte came up behind him with also a disappointed frown and swiftly slammed the man’s head on the table, almost knocking him up unconscious.

“Done! Ah, I should have known he would end up getting drunk, so sorry about that Lukas. He just cares about you a lot haha”,

The Finnish woman gives a beaming smile, pulling a groaning Mathias up from his seat and dragging him towards the hotel rooms. He would be fine, the pair were apparently made of steel.

Lukas wasn’t joking, it was indeed a testified confirmed fact. Both of them got frequently in danger in the name of ‘fun dating time’ just for the thrill.

Huh.

His life was a full on comedy and a romantic flick, it seemed.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

Natalya smiles at the setting sun as she lays her down against the cool window pane, the radio on the low and the car speeding up on the road.

Ludwig is the one driving, with her sister on the passenger seat chatting up with Francine and Gilbert, she was sitting besides Madeline, who appeared to be rather solemn, in the far back. Content with the background noise for once.

‘Maybe you can meet an another artist!’

Huh.

So her sister wasn’t so wrong after all, Maybe she should give this thing a try, just for a dose of inspiration and motivation, of course. Nothing more or less.

Yes, just for a good source for inspiration, indeed.

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

#hetalia #hws #nyotalia #aph #hetalia norway #hetalia belarus #artist #writer #norbela #gerkraine #gerukr #denfin #hetalia germany #hetalia ukraine #hetalia denmark #hetalia finland #nyotalia finland #hwsrarepairweek2022

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