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#i don't think it can be a dress unless i do proper lining
azrielbrainrot · 2 months
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Fire on Fire
Eris x Reader
Description: Being female in the Autumn Court was hard enough before you got engaged against your will. You try to avoid your fate at any cost.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 3966
Notes: Writing Eris is hard, I hope this isn't too bad. Also meant for this to be so much shorter but oh well. Feedback is always appreciated! (unless you're mean about it)
part of the fire on fire universe
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You watch elegant gowns in all shades of green and orange against tasteful brown and scarlet three piece suits flowing to the music. Your own floor length gown is a muted burnt orange that complimented your figure enough not to be considered provocative. The dress is undeniably beautiful but you would have liked it more had you been allowed to choose it for yourself, it was only upon arriving that you realized the color was meant to match your fiancé's. Orange and burgundy, symbolizing the fire in your hearts, burning for each other. Such a shame you didn't choose him either.
Lively music and laughter can be heard all around the extravagantly decorated ballroom. A proper celebration fit for… you can't even remember what the purpose of this ceremony was. Just another in a long list of mindless parties you aren't allowed to fully indulge in, celebrating people you don't like or traditions you'd rather never participate in.
In any other situation you might have loved to take in the beautiful decorations around the room and lose yourself in the music, dancing and laughing to your heart's desire. But, as you stare at the same intricately decorated chandelier, with magical flames swaying to the beat, you can't take your mind off the people around you.
Your engagement ring clinks against your wine glass slightly, both useless props. You were only allowed a couple modest sips of the wine before putting it aside, as no female should indulge in such a thing, let alone an unmarried one. And the ring seemed more like a mockery than anything else. It symbolized your purpose in this life, to be someone's trophy wife just as your parents had raised you. You think a noose around your neck would feel less haunting.
Thankfully, your parents had left you alone shortly after arriving, letting you sit by one of the tables while you watched the celebration from afar. They must have been content with your demure act, the promised beauty standing off by the side while the married and unclaimed fae reveled in the center of the room. You wonder if you approached the table filled with deliciously smelling goods your mother would winnow to you, lest you look fat in your already too tight corset. It's not even worth the effort for a simple bite of food, you'd rather starve until you're alone.
With a soft sigh you let your eyes wander away from the chandeliers, if you stare at them any longer you might blind yourself with the flames. Pretending no one else was here was an impossible feat anyway. As much as your room feels like a prison sometimes, you'd give anything to go back home right now.
Your eyes meet your future husband's and a chill immediately runs through your body. Eris looks as impeccable as ever in his intricately decorated suit, not a line or hair out of place just as it was expected of the Autumn Court Heir. There is no doubt that he is an exceptionally handsome male, you don't even want to imagine how many fae would kill to be in your place. It's just a shame that his personality is less than desirable, and so is his attitude towards you, and his manners when no one is looking, and that he was the final nail on the coffin that is your stupid fate.
You knew an arranged marriage would eventually become your reality ever since you were a child and your father had told you not to bother with romance, he'd pick someone suitable to marry you and all you had to do was be good to him. In his eyes love is not worth it. You wonder if he even believes it exists, he's certainly never felt it, not even for you, his own child. It makes you feel more at ease knowing no one has ever loved him either, as cruel as that might make you.
For a while you didn't pay your future too much mind, you'd have secret crushes, read romance books behind everyone's backs and even had fleeting affairs when you were a teenager, but it came to a point where you couldn't ignore your fate anymore. When you were freshly seventeen, your mother started intensifying her lessons on how to be a good wife and a good mother - this was the biggest irony since she had never been anything but cruel to you - and your time was consumed with preparations for a future you'd rather run from.
Shortly after, your father put you officially on the market for a husband that would compliment the family's powers, and the High Lord himself came forth, interested in having you marry his eldest son. You knew your family's power was coveted in the Autumn court, your fire was only second to the Vanserra line and the current Lady of Autumn, but this still came as a surprise for you and your family as the High Lord never appeared interested in you. There was no point deluding yourself anymore, your fate as a glorified brooding mare was staring you right in the face.
You had briefly thought of escaping, but the chances of succeeding were slim and you had nowhere to go. You knew the other courts didn't operate on such archaic rules, for the most part at least, but you were also aware that none would accept an autumn court noble female. Your High Lord had burned every bridge with the other courts a thousand times over. You didn't blame any of them for being wary of anything that crawled out of this sickening court.
Words cannot describe how much you hate Beron and everything he stands for which is a good thing because you'd be burned alive in public for speaking those words out loud. Still, you know your feelings of hatred could never hold a candle to Eris' distaste for his own father, and this is how your bargain came to be.
Upon hearing that your future husband would be the heir to the Autumn Court, you had only felt fear like never before. Eris had a reputation of cruelty that preceded him, he was a favorite for the throne among the despicable nobles of this court for a reason after all, but following your first meeting, you had seen a side of him that you'd bet not even a handful of people had glimpsed before and had ultimately came to an agreement that benefitted both of you: you'd push back the date for as long possible while playing the role your fathers expected of the both of you and, if you were lucky, you'd be able to avoid the marriage altogether when Beron wasn't High Lord anymore.
Eris wanted to dispose or Beron, burn down the ruins of this old-fashioned, cruel court and have Autumn be reborn from the ashes. You never intend to call him your husband, but you would gladly help him so you could, one day, come to call him your High Lord.
He observes you for a few heartbeats before downing the content of his glass and setting it aside. In the next moment he's walking straight to you, not ever letting his eyes stray or giving you a moment to breathe.
You can't help but think he looks every bit the High Lord in this moment, with his suffocating power untamed and wicked gaze trained on you. Eris walks to you in slow, intentional steps, like a predator would walk to his prey. His three piece suit was clinging to his frame perfectly, showing off his physique with every step. The pushed back hair only made the intensity in his eyes more noticeable and the strands he left out were framing his face perfectly. Eris looked extremely handsome from afar but he's suffocatingly entrancing when he stands in front of you.
You barely exchange pleasantries before he holds a hand out to you. You can feel everyone's eyes on the two of you, observing every interaction in hopes of finding any detail to gossip about. They all know your marriage is arranged but they're under the impression that, as a female, landing the most sought-after bachelor in the court was your endgame. And there are plenty of people who would go to extreme measures to ensure that they or their family member would be the one becoming the next Lady of Autumn. You're not sure if they'd spare you even if you told them you didn't want anything to do with the title.
“Time to put on a show, doll.” Trying not to let your face show the distaste of the petname he chose for you all those years ago, you take his hand and let him lead you to the middle of the dance floor.
The music changes right before you start, the band knows this is one of the highlights of the evening - the heir and his fiancé. People will be talking about this moment for the next weeks, it's not often you and Eris interact in public after all, just enough for him to show his claim on you as your father so eloquently put it.
Eris leads you through the dance effortlessly, your body following instinctively in turn. You've yet to see him be less than amazing at something. You wonder what kind of picture the two of you paint, moving together so gracefully to the music, orange against burgundy, fire on fire.
“How are you enjoying the evening?” You'd rather he was quiet and ignored you in these moments you have to show up together in public like so many husbands and fiancés do. Eris loves to fan the flames and it's just your luck that they're usually yours. He might not have as much as to lose if you snap and let your fire show, but Beron wouldn't let him go unpunished if his fiancé caused a scene.
“Lovely,” you make sure your gaze is both timid and kind, avoiding his gaze as if you were inferior to him. As he spins you around and brings you in closer, you add in a hushed tone, “Haven't been allowed to eat since this morning and my hair is pulled up so tightly I can barely think.”
“You females sure have it rough.” He means it as a sarcastic comment but you've known him long enough to identify the distaste behind his words. Eris doesn't have the liberty to speak his mind so he's learned to do it behind mockery and sarcasm over the centuries. He knows how rough you have it, unfortunately he's seen it first hand.
“Oh I'm sure you have it so much worse,” you say in a tone you hope matches his, “It's not like you don't spend your mornings walking your hounds around the forest and nights only the Mother knows where.”
You see something spark in his eyes, something akin to satisfaction, before he's tightening his grip on your waist and bringing you in closer. He looks around the room first, as if daring anyone to keep staring while he talks to his soon-to-be wife. Of course, no one does.
“Spying on me, little doll?” Your breath hitches and you know he hears it because you can feel his smirk grow. You'll blame the blush spreading through your flesh and chills moving through your body on your performance later, but in this moment you know they're very much real.
Eris has an effect on you. The male is undeniably attractive, you doubt you'd find any fae or human who wouldn't think so, and that wicked tongue of his only makes him more enticing. You like to blame your body's response to him on your lack of experience, but you're not sure it would be possible to not feel at least tempted to indulge in Eris even if you'd already made your way through the entire court.
“I wasn't trying to,” you swallow, fighting to keep your tone steady and not show any more reaction to his proximity. This much was true, you could barely sneak around to find time for yourself, let alone spend it looking for your fiancé. “Maybe you're just easy to find,” you tilt your head slightly, “This doesn't bode well with all your plans.” You swear you can feel a small chuckle coming from him but he's hiding it before you can be sure.
The song rises in tempo and Eris takes this opportunity to spin you around again, effectively putting some space between you. It's hard to keep a pleasant smile on your face while spewing venom filled words at your husband to be, but letting anyone overhear you or find any little crack in your performance would only bring trouble, and this is routine for you after all. You'd never admit it but with his hand in yours the stares are easier to digest, even if your arrangement was involuntary, at least you weren't alone for once in your life.
The song finally comes to an end. You rush to bow to him slightly so you can go back to an emptier corner of the ballroom and escape everyone's prying eyes, but Eris takes your hand before you can. He takes it up to his mouth, kissing it softly before whispering in your ear.
“Meet me at the cabin later.” It must be an important subject for Eris to even bring this up at a place like this. Though you're sure it had simply looked like he left you with some teasing parting words.
The rest of the ceremony is uneventful. You go back to the same place you had spent most of the night in and ignored the whispers around you. Aside from your mother coming by to ask you what Eris told you - to which you promptly lied and feigned bashfulness - you sat in the corner quietly wondering what your fiancé wants to talk to you about.
As soon as you walk into your room you let out a loud sigh. You wish you could just fall into your bed and not emerge until the sun is high in the sky tomorrow. Unfortunately, you still need to let the maids bathe you and get you ready for bed. Your mother insists on having them help you, especially on days like these, as if you could drown in the bath.
It takes what feels like hours to go through the whole routine, getting you out of the too small corseted dress was a feat in itself. If you had been alone you probably would have already burned it off your body in frustration, it's not like you'll be allowed to wear it again either way.
You lie down in bed as soon as the maids leave, keeping an ear out for everyone else in the house. Trying to leave before everyone was asleep was too risky. They had no reason to think you would leave in the middle of the night like this, but you couldn't help being a little paranoid. There's too much to lose.
When you think it's safe, you climb out of bed quietly. You look down at your nightgown and contemplate changing into something warmer. It barely reaches your knees so you'll definitely be cold, but you were already late and it would be easier to just get back into bed like this. You decide to put on some boots and throw a green hood over it.
Taking one more look around, you winnow to your meeting point. No one knows you have this ability, which is how you can sneak out as often as you do. You've kept this secret from everyone but Eris, though you didn't intentionally reveal it to him either.
He'd shown you this place when you first made your bargain years ago. You're not entirely sure what the cabin was used for before but it was probably only meant for storage. Eris must have found it deep into the forest and decided it was a good place to hide, you can only imagine the things he's gotten up to inside these walls.
As soon as you materialize into the cabin you see Eris standing by the fire. He's changed out of his suit but it doesn't look like he was getting ready for bed with the black ensemble he has on. Yours is probably not the only secret meeting he's having tonight.
“You're late.” Incredible how Eris always strives to be the nicest person in the room.
“I had to wait for everyone to think I was asleep so they didn't see me,” you start as you push the hood off your head, “Excuse me if I took a bit longer making sure no one followed me.”
“You're perfectly excused, doll.” The flames in the hearth climb higher, fueled by your anger that only escalates when you see the familiar smirk on his irritatingly beautiful face. “Oh my. How have you managed to hide your powers with such a fiery disposition?”
You ask yourself that same question often. Fortunately, he might be the only person who can make your temper boil so easily. You don't even want to think what would happen if your father found out how powerful you could be.
Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your composure, you take a deep breath and walk closer to the fire. The cloak is doing little to ward off the cold of the autumn forest, you hope he at least ends this conversation quickly.
“I was hoping you'd keep the dress on,” he takes on a seductive tone and looks down at your bare legs before locking eyes with you once more, “but this might be even better.” You will never understand why he insists on playing this game with you, you're more than aware that he has no such feelings for you. You also know you probably look ridiculous.
“Well I was hoping you'd get eaten by a wolf on the way here,” you give him a sweet smile, “but we don't always get what we want.”
The disinterested hum he sends your way in lieu of a response is somehow more infuriating than anything he might have come up with. The fact that Eris managed to live over 500 years with this personality might as well be one of the biggest mysteries in Prythian.
“What did you want to tell me anyway?” You just wanted to get this over with and go back to your warm bed so you can finally sleep the day off.
“Our marriage will take place within the year.” The world fell silent at his words. You always knew this day could come, that Eris could only delay it for so long, but hearing the words makes your heart sink.
“What?”
“Beron hasn't talked to me about it yet but he told my mother to start preparations for my wedding.” He runs a hand through his hair, you hadn't noticed how messy it already was. He's as worried about this as you are. “She warned me he'll probably announce it soon. I thought it would be tonight.”
You don't know how to process this. It may have been foolish but you had hoped this would never actually happen since Eris was on your side. You sit on the bench and Eris follows suit. Your masks drop in the small comfort of the secluded cabin, there's no use pretending now.
“What about your other plan?” This was your last chance: if Eris was High Lord he could simply call the engagement off and your father wouldn't be able to argue against it.
“I will need more time.” You close your eyes tightly, wishing you could just disappear. “I'm trying to move things along as fast as I can but I won't be able to finish all the preparations before the end of the year. There's too much at risk.”
“We will be married by then.” It's over.
“It can't be helped.” You'd give anything to see Autumn rid of Beron, if the price has to be your freedom so be it. Still, you can't help feeling defeated, it feels like you're mourning a life you never even had the chance of living.
You don't know if Eris had any hope of finding love like you did but, even if he didn't, you know he didn't want to be chained to someone he didn't choose either. He had witnessed how awful his parent's marriage had been just like you did yours so he must have at least hoped for a companion of his choice or to stay alone.
“I've thought of sending you away,” you look up at him, surprised at his words, “but my father would order me to find you, and I'd have to obey him. Failing Beron's orders brings too big of a punishment for me and my family.” His gaze moves from the fire in front of you to meet yours, “I would hate to ever hurt you, doll, so I need to keep you here.”
If there was one thing you could respect about Eris was his commitment to keeping his family safe. You're not actually sure if any of them are aware of the sacrifices he makes for them - from what you've heard the family dynamic is interesting at best - but it tugs at your heart strings. You used to pray for someone to care for you that much, to protect you like this.
You wonder how things ended up like this. Maybe thinking you could have avoided this future when it was written for you when you were born had been simply a foolish delusion. At least Eris was one of the best options, as much as you hate to admit it. You'd at least not have to worry about him being violent with you or treating you like you were less than an animal.
“Well,” you sit up straighter and stare right into the fire, feigning nonchalance even through your shaky voice and teary eyes, “I guess we'll have to get used to each other.” No use crying over spilt milk. It was better to accept this reality sooner than later. “Being Lady of Autumn might still bring me some perks in the end.”
You might have to give up on your chance at love and to build a life for yourself, but you can at least help Eris change this court for the better. When you turn your head and meet his amber eyes you find an intensity you weren't expecting, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was proud of you.
“Already thinking of ways to rule my court?” The smirk on his face wasn't quite as cutting as usual. “How ambitious of you, doll.”
“Our court,” you clarify, “What's yours is mine, husband.”
He studies your face for a few moments with a glint in his eyes, noticeable even through the reflection of the fire. You're not sure what he's searching for. Any signs you'd back down or try to run away despite his warnings? Whatever it was, it seems he reached a conclusion.
“We'll rid this court of Beron,” he extends his hand towards you, holding his palm up, “and give it a new worthy ruler.” Another bargain. He wants to add to your former agreement, that one would disappear the moment you got married anyway.
“We'll make this a better place to live, a court we can be proud of.” You have nothing else to lose. You take his hand and feel the magic instantly. You're now bound to Eris in an oath you intend to fulfill at the cost of your life. You'd make him High Lord or you'd die trying.
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fluffydavey · 10 months
Note
Roommate prompt: “so, uh… how’d your date go?”
roommates to lovers || prompt
Jack's laying down on the sofa, one arm hanging low whilst the other holds a book he's trying to read. He's itching to paint, an idea that won't leave him that he knows he definitely can't start with a paper due.
He's not able to concentrate on a single thing that he's reading, his mind wandering every second word to where his roommate is. Or better yet, who he's with.
Davey had hurried out of his room dressed in his figure-hugging jeans that sends Jack wild every time Davey wears them, and a pink shirt. Jack almost missed it, too focused on how fucking good Davey looked, when Davey slipped out that he was going on a date, with some guy in his journalism class called Darcy.
Jack admittedly doesn't know much about the other guy, but he knows that he hates him. He's just finished FaceTiming with Race, who's been helping him find any trace of Darcy in Davey's social media, feeling like he was going mad in their apartment alone.
It's nearing midnight when Davey returns. Jack looks up surprised, expecting to hear Davey coming home much later. He drops his book, already giving up on the prospect of being productive, and trying his absolute hardest to pretend he hasn't spent the better half of an hour of his life tonight scouring through Darcy's Instagram and Twitter with Race. "So, uh...how'd your date go?"
Davey shrugs his jacket off, taking his time hanging it up. "It didn't."
Jack knew Darcy didn't look like someone who could be Davey's type. He tries to hide his relief, as he sits up to take a proper look at Davey. He's putting on a stoic face, but Jack knows Davey too well to know it's a front. "Sorry, what did you say?
Davey makes his way towards Jack, pointing at Jack's shoes which are now on the sofa. "Feet," he chastises, and Jack sheepishly takes his shoes off. Still, he takes the seat beside Jack, facing the wall. "He never showed up, so there was no date. Go on, make fun of my tragic love life."
"Hey, I wouldn't do that," he says, kicking Davey gently to get his attention. Davey finally looks at his with an exasperated look in his eyes, but Jack sees the smile that's threatening to show. "Look at it this way, you're better off without that asshole. He's an idiot."
"Oh shut up, you just have to say that," Davey says with a roll of his eyes, and he throws his own legs up on the sofa, finally facing Jack now.
"I don't," he begins, watching Davey intently. He knows his friend too well to know that Davey's probably been beating himself up on his way home. "He wasn't right for you, he was an idiot."
"You don't even know the guy, what makes you think that?" Davey asks.
"Because he wouldn't have bailed on a date with you if he had any working brains," he answers, moving closer to Davey. He watches as the other boy swallows thickly, not breaking eye contact. "Anyone would be lucky to be going out with you Davey, you're a real catch."
He knows he's stepping over the careful line they've established, one they've nearly stepped over far too many times, into new territories. Only this time, he's entirely sober and he'll be damned if he has to wait any longer. He's tired of denying himself what he wants the most.
"I didn't want you to go on that date. I don't want you to go on any more dates, not unless they're with me," Jack tells him, watching as Davey's cheeks turn a delightful shade darker. Davey leans forward above Jack, and Jack doesn’t think he’s able to breathe. Davey kisses him, and it’s like the whole world stops.
He wraps his arms around Davey to pull him closer, and Davey's hands are everywhere, poised on his waist, tangled fiercely in his hair and tugging and pulling and Jack is gasping for air, fuck, pressing his mouth as hard as he possibly can to Davey's without losing the ability to breathe entirely, until they finally separate their mouths to let out a choked breath.
"I was wondering how long it would take you to confess," Davey grins, flushed and glorious and breathtakingly happy, as he cups Jack's face.
And this, this is where their friendship has been leading the whole time, Jack thinks. He kisses him again, and again, taking all the time in the world to explore Davey, the way Jack's dreamed of for so long.
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dukeoftheblackstar · 10 months
Note
vamp boba thots? :D
Vampires are the ultimate Sugar Daddy and I'm beyond willing to fight anybody who disagrees.
You no longer want to be a basic bitch who works a bajillion hours a day, buy shit you don't need (yes bestie, close that tab right now it's for your own good), whine about being broke, and cry while you contemplate on either living off coffee or wine. You want that good shit.
And by good shit, you want old money. Because bestie, old money is eternal. It doesn't just get you in clubs and VIP passes, it gets you in that exclusive room full of old men whose pockets run deeper than the bags on your eyes (: Some probable illuminati bullshit because these men don't die, they just stay old and rich.
If it pleases the court, Count Blah Blah, Boba VampBoba!
NSFW under cut. Lazy writing.
blood mention and vampire stuff idk
death mention and more vampire stuff idk
MAKE THE RIGHT CHOICES.
You're old enough to fuck and yet here you are, making horrible choices for yourself because you saw something shiny on the internet and decided to buy it. Thus, leaving your broke ass self daydreaming that a Sugar Daddy would just take you away.
But you know, you don't actually want the DADDY, you just want the SUGAR.
And by SUGAR I mean that sexy, black, business card DADDY lets you play with while he sits on his chair talking about stocks and other shit that that just screams money. You think they're all the same so you just swipe, dress pretty, act dumb and make excuses to not touch old dick because only money matters.
You obviously made the wrong choice because bestie, dick matters too D:
QUID PRO QUO.
We'll just get right into it because Count Boba Fett does not have time for your foolishness.
He doesn't appreciate the filth you bring to his good name. You get what you give and clearly, you're not giving much.
You can't expect to blow his money without blowing dick hun, that's just the law. It don't matter if he has concubines left and right, if he calls for you, you answer.
HEAD.
So head, right? He wants you on your knees slobbing on his knob like it's the 24th century BC where blow jobs were discovered. He wants you to explore and revel on that dick like it's your only saving grace because bestie, he's no merciful god. He can destroy you as much as he can destroy that punani.
He likes your mouth wide open. Goes absolutely berserk when you run your tongue along the fangs you now have while he sits on his throne rubbing one out.
If he's feeling generous, he'd not only wipe his pre-cum on your lips, but trace those dangerously sharp fangs with the tip of his cock. If he's in a good mood, he'd wipe it on your tongue.
But no make mistake, the count is not a very nice man. He old, he cranky.
You're not allowed to close your mouth unless he says so. He wants your tongue drip with saliva and his cum while you wait for his command. And if he's feeling extra frisky, he'd have you do a pre-meal on an unsuspecting victim so it's a hot pool of blood, saliva, and cum.
If you so ever move your mouth to close, the Count won't hesitate to give you a proper slap. Along the lines of:
"Now what did I say about keeping that mouth open, hmm?" He'd hmm the shit out of it while he whacks your chin and cheek with a slickened, hard, cock. He won't be soft on it either, you're gonna feel it rattle your jaw and hear him hiss because he might have whacked you with his raging erection a little too hard.
DO NOT BE FRIGHTENED, PRECIOUS BABY GIRL BECAUSE HE CAN BE GENTLE TOO.
And by gentle, I mean he'd massage your cheeks with your mouth open so when you're ready to be blessed by this fanged lord of darkness and bats (maybe he likes bats idk), you won't pop drop and lock it on his god-tier dick.
Hand on top of your heard with fingers under stray locks of hair. A tender graze before pulling your hair back so you'd look at him and wince because miss'ma'am, nothing on your face will ever look good than a rundown mascara with tears on your cheek after he dick fucks your mouth so deep you felt death for 0.03 seconds.
He also values the glow of your skin and what's better than nature's natural moisturizing properties? Cum of course. Best you remember bestie, we want that glow up ;) not throw up ♥
He likes to cum on your face, all over. Having you desperately lick where your tongue can reach because he's not about to down you in cum after prodding your throat like that because you're a princess and you deserve to call his name when he's ready for that cute lil P ♥.
SHOULDERS.
The Count is a bit of a clean freak sometimes and doesn't want making a mess of himself. Here's where you come in, huntie ♥ You make the mess for the count because he is not about hat life of buying you a Rolls Royce without something in return.
So there you are, sitting on the balcony fences with your knees spread and your ass barely supporting your weight. One wrong move and you fall to your death. But not to worry fam, I gotchu ♥
Boba's right behind you in full support as he just stands there with his chin on your shoulder and his breath hot against your ear.
He tells you to spread your knees wider and if you ever buckle and close them, he'll throw you off to your death.
Dangerous man, our count is. YUM. Like sir? Pls dick me down before you throw me to my death, am I right, bestie? Yes. Deffo. Now stfu and let the man work.
Mindful of the sharpened nails, he has his fingers over your panties in an excruciatingly slow motion. Tracing every curve of your now soaked lips, pressing, tapping, and flicking that precious bean through the cloth.
He'll probably do some stupid shit like lick the the side of your neck and nibble on your tongue, prodding you through the cloth.
He has a shoulder kink. He'd bite your shoulder. That's it. Idk what you're expecting but he will bite your shoulder. Maybe kiss it, lick it, leave a hickey, idk what to tell you babe.
NECKS. Total Vampire Kink, I tell you.
He'd grab you on the back of your neck and pull you to him, turning you to face him for the lulz. He doesn't need a reason, bestie. He'd do that shit while you're reading a book just so you could suck him off while he reads the morning paper, he don't care.
He'd run his fingers through the back of your neck slow and barely touching the skin. It's the only thing saving you from -- Oh shit, well no. He'd do that and THEN grab a handful of your hair and force you into a very steamy, tongue-tied, fang licking kiss until you beg him to to stop by pushing him off because he about to suck the life out of you.
As a very concerned citizen, please take swimming lessons and extended breath concentration lessons.
On lazy days, he wants to just rub his face all over the back of your neck, the sides, all over you neck. Like bitch, he didn't buy you 1283891273812937 perfume to let it go to waste.
He'd bite you. Sometimes love bites, sometimes hate bites because you should not be that cute of a baby girl when he's in meeting with other dignified vampires.
Sometimes he'd just bite you to taste your blood again. Then let it rain blood and you two can just roll into the blood bath and make out that scene in Heart Shaped Glasses by Marilyn Manson (shits hot for me)
I would say knees and toes here, but I got nothing. Sorry fam, dumb brain. I also need to know more about Vampires (:
For you @kimiheartblade
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p-artsypants · 4 months
Note
I really love your Teen Titans stuff, especially your one shot Wasteland. I don't have any ideas to offer for your blurbs but I'll straight up absorb any form of robstar you create.
Awww! Thank you so much!! You know, Wasteland is pretty old at this point, but I still think it holds up well! Who doesn't love a 'sharing body heat to keep warm' fic???
For you, Bestie, I offer a taste of the fic that will be #70!
Blurb #21
“Well Mike,” said Robin, “looks like I’m up next. Why don’t you relax for a moment while I get a proper suit on.” 
“Do you have anything that’ll fit?” Cyborg asked. 
Robin’s face darkened. “I have something for just this reason. I’ll have to take measurements to get larger suits made. Star, you should hydrate after your battle.” 
“Alright, I shall go with you.” She nodded. 
While Mike talked with the other Titans, Starfire waited patiently for what Robin had to say to her, since he wouldn’t recommend her to come inside unless he wanted to speak with her in private. 
Once they were inside, he asked, “why didn’t either you or Mike use your starbolts? If it’s a fairness thing, that’s fine. I’m just curious.” 
Starfire stopped walking, and Robin fumbled when he noticed. “Star?” 
She swallowed thickly. “I am sorry.” 
“Sorry? For what? You didn’t do anything wrong! I’m just wondering.” 
Starfire held her fists to her sides and said, very low, “Tamaraneans do not usually possess the ability to shoot bolts as I do. My sister and I are the only ones.” 
Robin stood up straighter at that revelation. “Really?” 
“Yes. I…I do not know if Mike is aware of this ability. I am…apprehensive to share.” 
“I can understand that. How did you and Blackfire get to be the only ones that can do this?” 
That’s when Starfire broke down. She started crying, and after Robin recovered from his initial panic, he quickly pulled her into a hug for comfort. 
“You don’t have to tell me,” he protested. “It's obviously a sore spot. Don’t worry about it.” 
“No,” she sniffed and pulled away from him. “I apologized because I have wanted to tell you, but…it is hard.” 
He took her hand. “Then, why don’t you tell me while I get the suit on. We can talk more about it later too. But if we’re gone for too long, Beast Boy and Cyborg will pester us about it.” 
She nodded in understanding. Maybe she’d tell them one day as well, but right now, it was hard enough to share with Robin, who she trusted implicitly. 
He led her up to his room, where he pulled a changing screen out from his closet and began to dress. 
She sat on the bed, cross-legged. 
“Whenever you’re ready,” he assured, the sound of fabric rustling behind the screen. 
“My cousin mentioned that I went to train with the Warlords of Okaara. Blackfire and I did this together, as we are…of noble blood on Tamaran. Leading an army is our duty.” 
Robin peaked around the screen. “How noble we talkin’?” 
She shyly twisted a piece of her hair. “My father…is the Grand Ruler? And I am second in line to the throne after my brother?” 
He gaped at her. 
“I am sorry I did not mention it.” 
“Uh…it’s okay. I guess. So you went to train…” 
Her shyness was replaced with sadness. “Yes. As you have experienced now, first hand, we Tamaraneans absorb energy from UV rays from the sun. While away, another race of aliens were on Okaara and took interest in my sister and I. These were the Psions.” She bowed her head. “They…experimented on us. They pumped us full of UV rays for weeks, trying to see how much it would take before we—“ she swallowed harshly, not finishing the sentence. “In the end, I was able to expel that energy through my hands and escaped, and then rescued my sister.” 
Robin peeked out again, staring wide eyed at her. 
“It was only a few weeks after we returned home that I was taken captive by the Gordianians. I was with them for many years. That is why I know so little about Transformation.” 
“…when did you say you started training?” 
“I was eight. The experiments began when I was but 10.” 
Robin finished dressing, and then walked around the screen. 
“You look very handsome,” Starfire offered a smile. 
Robin didn’t react to the compliment, only sat beside her, and touched her hair gently. It was like seeing her in an all new light. 
That was why she was so naive. That was why she acted so childish. She had no childhood. She had been a prisoner. She had to relearn everything. 
“Robin?” 
“Sorry, I got caught up in my thoughts. Thank you for telling me. It means a lot. I certainly feel like I understand you better.” 
“Yes?” 
“Yeah. You…you’ve been through a lot, but you’re so positive all the time.” 
“It is…I have spent many hours being sad and angry. I did not like it. In comparison, most things are not so bad. So I remain happy.” 
She was right. What was an escaped criminal in comparison to being tortured? What was it like to wake up in a home, safe, and know that whatever the day brought you was better than where you started? 
“No one is allowed to get mad at you for being cheerful when they’re in a bad mood anymore. I won’t allow it.” 
“That is not necessary, Robin.” 
“No, it is. You are allowed to enjoy your freedom.” 
“When you or our friends get upset with me, it is paltry compared to the anger of the Gordianians. Truly, it does not bother me.” 
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You are far stronger than most humans, you know that?” 
“Yes? Most humans can not lift a car.” 
He shook his head slightly. “Emotionally strong, Star. Most people in a similar situation would come out bitter and hateful.” 
“Like Blackfire,” Starfire supposed, “though, she was rather bitter before the Psions, so I don’t think that is an apt comparison.” 
“At any rate, I like you the way you are. If you ever need to talk about this stuff, just let me know. I’m always here to listen.” 
A pretty blush covered her cheeks. “Thank you, my dear friend. And now, I shall show an Earthen sign of gratitude.” She kissed his cheek. “Is that correct?” 
His face also colored. “Yes, in this case, it’s correct. I wouldn’t go around kissing people for minor things.” 
“Because it is too affectionate?” 
“Right. In our country, it’s more romantic.” 
“Oh, I see. Thank you for explaining that to me.” She smiled, and then kissed his cheek again. 
He blushed harder. 
“Are you prepared? Shall we go meet our friends?” 
He stood, adjusting his cape. It was longer than he was used to. That might be a problem. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
I'm going to try to share 70 blurbs from my WIPs and unfinished fics to celebrate reaching 70 posted fics! To help with this endeavor, please feel free to send me a word or a fandom you know I write for, and I'll share the blurb. IDK if I'll get 70 prompts, but let's try it! Send as many as you want!
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thatonewatching · 10 months
Text
My Hoodie/Brian Thomas ABC's
A: Affection (Are they affectionate? How do they show affection?)
Apathetic. He can show proper emotions, he just doesn't really like to. Living as a Proxy, you get used to changing yourself. However, if he decides to be affectionate, it'll be simple. He might just hold you and tell you he loves you while you watch a movie or enjoy each other's company.
B: Beauty (What does he find most beautiful about you? What about himself? What about in general?)
On you, his personal favorite is your smile. He enjoys seeing you smile, knowing that you're happy makes him happy. On himself, it's his eyes. They're deep and can be used to intimidate and get his way. In general, it's nature. He enjoys seeing leaves fall and raindrops roll down windows.
C: Courtesy (How kind is he? Is he kinder or the same around others? How does he show it?)
He is a very polite and respectful man. Often, he shows this, not caring where or why. He acts the same around others. If anything, he's more polite around your friends and family, but he's a much more apathetic person toward his coworkers.
D: Dreams (What does he wish to accomplish? What is his dream life? What does he want for his future?)
He wishes to escape the life of a proxy, despite knowing he's unable to do so. His dream life is just to be free and with you. He wants to have kids, but likely won't act on it, mainly because he doesn't want them targeted and born into the life he'll give them with his line of work. 
E: Equal (Are you equal, or is one more dominant in the decision-making rather than the other?)
Brian makes a lot of decisions but makes sure you're up for it. He often takes the initiative to do things but won't put them into action without your comfort. Despite being a manic murderer, he does care about what you want and your comfort. You are equal. He won't do something without your permission.
F: Fights (Do you argue often? What triggers fights? How easily does he forgive you?)
He doesn't like to argue, and you don't argue often; mainly because he's always right. He won't open his mouth if he knows he's wrong, already having devised his answers and predicted yours. The only thing that triggers fights is if you falsely accuse him, poke him too much after a bad day, or push him too far after warnings. And even then, he still finds a way to make it a joke. He forgives relatively easily, knowing it was an accident, and finds himself being unreasonable with his anger. 
G: Gratitude (How grateful are they for you? What else are they grateful for? Do they show their appreciation?)
He appreciates you very much, often showing his appreciation by s̶t̶e̶a̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ buying you something nice. You saw a ring you liked once? Yours. Nice dress? Yours. Cool phone case? Yours. He's very grateful for his stealth; getting you things and sneaking around is much easier. They show their appreciation but will deny it if you say anything.
H: Honesty (How honest are they? How much do they keep hidden from you? Do they have a good reason?)
He is a very honest person, despite being a serial killer. Often, he won't hide things from you unless it's for your safety. Brian likes to tell you things, but when he comes home and you ask where he was, he'll say "Work" and you understand. They don't keep things hidden. They have a good reason if they do and won't go out of their way to tell you about their past. 
I: Inspiration (Did you change them? For the better or worse? Or not at all?)
You did! For the better, too! He was a recluse, only ever leaving his home for groceries or missions, but you got the better of him. He now enjoys taking long walks, visiting parks and will go out of his way to see things about nature. 
J: Jealousy (How easily do they get jealous? Are they aware they're jealous?)
He doesn't get jealous often. And if he does, then he calms himself down, reminding himself of his ridiculous thinking. He is very self-aware of his irrational thinking, knowing damn well you're his. 
K: Kissing (Is he a good kisser?)
Yes. I will not elaborate.
L: Love confession (How did he confess?)
Putting a blindfold on you, driving you to a special spot, giving you flowers, and telling you how he feels. He's a simple man. Kidnapping and takes you to a second location bc he's such a gentleman.
M: Marriage (Does he want to get married? How would they propose? What would the marriage be like?) 
He does want marriage but is scared you'll be targeted if you have too much contact with him. Would propose by taking you out somewhere nice, then a walk in the woods, leading you to a certain clearing or beautiful spot, getting on one knee, telling you how much he loves you and why you're the light in his life, his rock, if you will, (lmao, marble hornets ref), and will ask you to marry him. 
The marriage would consist of you understanding his work, being loved unconditionally, and being happy as you can, considering the fact that you're married to a serial killer who works for some otherworldly dark entity. <3
N: Nicknames (What do they call you? Why? Do they like nicknames?)
They would call you sweet things: honey, sweetheart, darling, dear, etc. He personally doesn't like nicknames, because it reminds him of the fact he gets called a nickname by his coworkers. But they do like calling you nicknames.
O: On cloud nine (How do they act when they're in love? What gets them to cloud nine?)
He's very caring; he likes to do things for you and appreciates you much more obviously. He likes to show his love. Getting them to cloud nine consists of just being obedient; treating him like he's royalty; and showing him he's loved and appreciated.
P: PDA (How comfortable are they with PDA? Do they like it? How do they show it?)
He enjoys PDA around real friends, not coworkers. Like E.J or Tim/Masky. It might be as simple as a hand snaked around your waist or interlocked fingers, but that's enough. Potentially even a hand in your back pocket, or a finger through your belt loop. He is only okay around friends and your family. 
Q: Quirk (What are some fun things that come with dating him? What's a random, helpful ability in the relationship?)
Something fun is knowing that his boss or coworkers might murder you! Very aesthetic, I know. He is very skilled at being mysterious, making all his gifts surprising. 
R: Romance (How romantic are they? Cliche or creative?)
He isn't very romantic but will do simple dates and gifts. He's pretty generic unless it's a very special occasion. 
S: Support (How supportive are they? Do they need a lot of support? Are they good at showing it? How do they show it?)
He is supportive of most things but will leave you to figure out some things by yourself if he thinks you need to really understand. (He is the definition of the 'give a man a place and you feed him for a day' quote. I swear he is) He'll be as supportive as he senses he needs to be. He's very awkward when it comes to support, but he tries. He'll help you through it and stay with you as long as necessary. 
T: Thrill (Is he a thrill seeker? Does he like to try things out?) 
He isn't too much of a thrill seeker, because he's often tired or craving to relax due to his job. He won't go out of his way to do new things but isn't against it if it's something you bring up. 
U: Understanding (Are they understanding? How well do they know you?)
Has a scary knack for remembering miscellaneous things about you. He often understands what you need and why, seeing as he was trained, whether aware or not, how to read people. He makes sure not to invalidate your feelings.
V: Value (How valuable is this relationship to him? How important are you to him?)
Your relationship is the most important thing in his life. He would kill whoever hurt you or die trying. You are like a God to him. He loves you with every part of him and would die if he needed to for you. 
W: Wildcard (A random headcanon)
I think he would cry into your chest or stomach when he's had a stressful day. Or he would come and lie on your ass like a pillow if you're on your stomach. Would most definitely bend every which way to see what's on your phone/laptop/tablet.
X: Xoxo (What's their favorite type of affection to give? What about receiving?)
His favorite type to give is kisses; his favorite type to receive is hugs around his neck. 
Y: Yearning (Does he miss you a lot when you're gone? How does he cope?)
He misses you greatly but understands that you are your person with your own life. He'll think about you, lie on your bed, look at photos, or just lie with your clothes. 
Z: Zeal (Will he go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, how?)
He will kill or die for you. His life has no meaning without you, and it's better off not living if you aren't there to enjoy life with him. Anything you ask is done. 
(THAT'S ALL; NOT PROOFREAD; I'M SORRY IT'S BAD)
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sthenolagniais · 1 year
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What are your thoughts on the sky pirates, Ashe?
"Are you sure you want me to match the local styles, Ashe? I think I would rather stand out in a Dalmascan crowd."
Ashe is glowering at the Phoenix, or rather, the direction her voice is coming from, as she is four racks deep in an impossibly large dressing room. (When you have to have clothes for any society you might come across, anything smaller is not enough.)
"I'd rather that than have you disappear on me again when I need your help the most."
The Phoenix pushes her way through the clothes. "I think this is the best I can offer." She emerges in her best attempt at baggy pants with light material that won't overheat in the desert. They aren't as baggy as she'd like, but they at least visibly aren't hugging her thighs. The eyes will mainly catch on abs that are exposed by a top that is generously described as a short tube top under a midriff-baring sheer tanktop or vest. Like her other outfit, everything is in red, but they are much less saturated shades, drifting more toward warm sandy tones that would blend in with a desert town.
"It's fine, I travel with sky pirates now, so unless you ran around naked, I don't think there will be a problem."
The Phoenix tilts her head a bit at the tone Ashe used for "sky pirates." It's not as scornful as it could be, but there's a little dismay, like she's fixated on how she's a princess, but she's consorting with pirates, which would harm her social standing somehow. "Given what happened on the Leviathan, I think that's a step up from the company you kept the last couple years."
"They're fine, for sky pirates." Ashe continues glaring at the Phoenix even as they return to the control room. "I would have traveled with you instead, if you had stayed."
The Phoenix sighs. "I told you. If I meddle too much, things change in unpredictable ways. Particularly when what you want is revenge for Rasler and Raminas. Your feels are understandable, but if I go kill the people responsible for that, it doesn't make you feel better AND could change history for the worse."
Ashe's whole body vibrates visibly as she tries to restrain her frustration. "So you choose to let murderers go free, and injustice stand?"
Phoenix shakes her head. "I have to let the people on planet get strong enough to handle the problem themselves, or new problems will constantly emerge, until one emerges I'm not prepared for. Then we lose everything AND there's a potential new threat on a galactic scale."
Ashe glares at The Phoenix until she turns around, at which point the time traveler's expression of mournful sorrow is so potent that her shoulders sag, all tension in her muscles gone.
"I understand your frustration. I've been there. But we have to do things right, or things will start to get out of hand. Then the universe will correct itself. When that happens....well, there's a reason most people can't look into the Untempered Schism."
The Phoenix shudders, but Ashe shakes her head. "If you cannot simply stop Vayne from destroying Dalmasca, and likely much of the world in his quest for power, then help me." Phoenix slowly looks up from the console she's been trying to interact with, expression still mournful, but with a dash of surprise. "I lost my most trusted confidant today, but if you had stayed that night, it would have been you who protected me for those two years, and you have the wisdom to know that selling Dalmasca to the Empire for peace will not stop Vayne's thirst for war. If you cannot help, then guide us in our journey. If you know how it must end, help us arrive at the proper conclusion."
The Phoenix stares at Ashe for a full minute, then chuckles. "I'm not used to experiencing time in a straight line, but I can travel with you for a bit." She turns to face Ashe fully, shoulders squared to her, eyes full of intent. "But know that I will hold you to that title. I will guide you away from battles you cannot win, but I will not fight your battles for you. You seek the power to counter, then stop Vayne. You have to find it, and you have to stop him."
Ashe is undeterred, staring right back at The Phoenix, maintaining eye contact. "How long is 'a bit'?"
The Phoenix laughs. "The same agreement as before. If the need is dire, I can help. But you said you wanted to become strong enough to reclaim Dalmasca on your own, and I will let you."
"I just want to know you're close, so I'm not pinning my hopes on a dream I had two years ago."
The Phoenix smiles. "I'll grab a couple things."
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todayisafridaynight · 11 months
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SO! I've wanted to talk about The Clip all day but felt like I should wait until the tumblr "premiere" (even though I think you were literally one of the first people to see it on Twitter lol). Thank you for defending my honor btw even if I am just Someone <3
But. Yes. Yeah. Yokoyama's absolute certainty in saying that??? Without anything to even buffer it? No maybe. No "don't expect too much." Just point-blank in front of a huge fan (whom I believe he's now going to be working with), a staff member, and a massive audience. As if that part isn't the matter of contention. I WILL be injecting those words directly into my veins for some time.
I was on the verge of choking and/or spewing blood and/or crying before posting it though lol, so I really appreciate the vote of confidence regarding the translation and I love your redraw! The reception as a whole has been really nice, although I wish people would keep it to themselves if they'd rather have Nishiki or Ryuji back or whatever. Not like it's a race, but even if it was, Mine's been in last place for ages lol.
And while I enjoy Y3's writing more than most, Mine's death wasn't some Grand Meaningful Statement, it was the decision of a fledgling studio that never knew if it would be able to keep making these games trying to tell a self-contained story. It did have far-reaching consequences for the series, but those consequences are also... not really relevant anymore?
Like, I can and have argued that Mine's death caused the fall of the Tojo Clan, but the clan has already fallen. So I don't see why some people are acting like revisiting his character would be A Spit In The Face to the saga somehow, but I guess I've never really been against characters being brought back...? A quote from the staff that's always stuck with me from the staff is that RGG is always going for RGG-ism, not realism.
Ranting aside... I honestly don't know if I should be saying this, but there's this new guy working the counter at Survive in some LaD8 behind the scenes footage. Now, upfront, I'm 99.8% sure it's not Mine (I happen to have a 100% accuracy rate so far identifying major RGG characters from extremely blurry images and silhouettes lmao), and I have no idea who it is, whether it's a new character or an old one heavily redesigned or Just Some Guy.
But he's not Kashiwagi. And he happens to have slicked-back dark brown hair with what appears to be an ahoge in some angles. And, unless the materials are temporary, he also dresses A Lot Like the celebrity Mine's design was based on. And his features... line up closely enough to piss me off, even though they don't fully match in the end, which is why I don't think it's him.
I'm in argumentative essay mode 100% of the time which is why I'm saying this in a "convincing" tone despite literally not believing it myself, but like... wouldn't that be something? To just have Mine part-timing at Survive or whatever and no one makes a big deal of it because they don't know any better? If nothing else, I really do think he should get The Bartender Treatment.
I dunno, I might post about it with a comparison tomorrow because it's been on my mind lately, especially with The News, but I really don't want people to get the wrong idea either. Or embarrass myself if it was too tenuous of a link to look that deeply into from the start lol
I remember seeing it two minutes after you posted it, so I can imagine I was one of the first to the scene of the crime (so my friends put it LMAO). AND OF COURSE I- and a lot of us- can't be any more grateful for all the work you do than we already are. I'd go insane trying to document and manage everything you do! especially when you have insane people like me ready to pounce on the smallest thing like I know I'd cry FJLKAJ The least I can do is give a proper title/credit to you when I can o7
If Yokoyama had any remaining hesitance about Mine being alive, then he REALLY would have fumbled by sounding so certain. Like in his old tweet, he certainly sounded more ambiguous, but this time he really had no extra notes and sounded more sure of himself. I won't expect RGG to do anything with Mine, but the concept is still very much exciting and the idea that Yokoyama almost seems earnest about the idea of bringing Mine back for whatever reason is very nice to know :] And thank you about enjoying the art I did! I can't lie in the slightest, since the last ask where you alluded to posting the clip, I had that drawing saved in the back of my head ready to make once you had that posted LMAO
But oohh not to touch drama since I generally try to Not touch it, but yeah I can't act like I haven't seen some people be. ""Interesting"" about the idea of Mine being alive. I won't dive too deep into it, but I think my major issue with the few grievances I've seen is that RGG hasn't done anything with Mine's alive status. As of right now, it's just a thing Yokoyama said, so I don't understand the need to be so angry about it (it's especially weird to say Ryuji hasn't been back when he not only got to be a playable protagonist in Dead Souls, but he was also the protagonist of RGGO- though I suppose I can understand wanting him in the mainline series again. Still, it's weird to act as though Mine's back any more than he is and being upset about it just because Yokoyama said he was alive)...
Moving on though, I'm really curious as to this 'mystery figure' you mean. I've been missing out on LaD8 production material, so I haven't seen this bit myself but I'd love to take a stab at it and analyze myself too. I agree though: if Mine does come back- whether he's working at Survive or anywhere else- I would greatly prefer if he had The Bartender status and was just never really called attention to and only existed in the background
#long post#snap chats#it'd be hilarious if mine came back and he was just there... just slap glasses o him and call it a day#like pleeaaasssee that'll be so funnyy if he does come back in LaD8 i dont want a dramatic reveal or whatever#i want the exact same shit like with kashiwagi just have the gang like. visit daigo and co at the security company#and the bitch at the front desk You Wouldnt Fucking Believe It Oh My God#i'd laugh so loud oh my god pleaaase yokoyama do it. you should also make ryuji just a random takoyaki salemen in 8#just so we're covering our bases here because im a ryuji-just-sells-octopus-balls truther#oh but on Mine's Death Fucked With The Tojo i definitely support the notion that he was a huge. Forgive The Pun asset to it#like i guess there's a lot of speculation and suggestions- at least on my end- when it coems to mine's importance#i mean we KNOW he was incredibly impotrant financially if katsuragi was anything to go off of#and listen ik i make the Widow Daigo joke a lot but geniunely i can imagine if daigo lost someone close to him he wouldnt be 100%#liiiiikkee i'll reserve the rant/ramble for my Daigo Essay but im just saying it cant be easy running a ship on your own with no real peers#yk cause pretty much everyone was older than him or only there for an ulterior motive and Blah Blah ill save the rest for another day#im rambling as is LMAO and i dont wanna say anythin FOOLISH#but yeah on mine coming back tho i dont think itd really tarnish any kind of thing his death could have done#like he died. or 'died'. 15 years ago (at the time of 2024)#the tojo's long gone by then it's been gone for five years at that point so it's not like mine would just Resume As Usual#he'd be starting over just as much as the other tojo clan members are yk what i mean#like i really cant think of. what else mine's death has done for the franchise that wolud be 'undone' if he was back#so yk. Why Not. it'd be funny and i think that's the only thing that matters ☠️ my dedication to the bit lets me forgive Insane Shit LMAO#but thats enough blabbering from meeeee thank you for writing in !
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atelierpapirouge · 1 year
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Hey papirouge how are you? I was wondering if youd like ideas for a potential next line?? I think once you made a poll or questionaire about it, but lately ive been trying to find clothes and struggle to find what i want (unless is in shein; they have so much clothes and so much variety but i dont want to support slave labor).
hiiii
I'm doing great!! My new job has been very demanding (I'm learning so many new things!!) so I already miss how easily I could keep up with my business schedule when I was unemployed and didn't have much else to do xD I've been slacking biiiig time lately (I have yet to download the shooting pictures the cameraman sent me 🥴)
I don't already have another line planned. papi rouge is a slow fashion brand and I'm not going to release new collections that often. The collection that's going to be released is very spring/summer oriented and I'll pull out new items only for winter season (for warmer outfits).
Yeah I did a questionnaire a few months ago as a market study about what people thought of modest clothing and "Christian fashion". In one of the questions, I asked people why they were struggling to find clothes they were comfortable with, and the replies were very insightful.
SHEIN is often pointed for having "slave labor" but this criticism is extremely hypocrite because guess what? ALL fast fashion brand use slave labor. The single fact you can have tees for 20$ instead of 100$ (which would be their price in a Western country with fair wage and proper worker protection).
Also what people don't seem to understand is that factories work for different clients. That's why factories with slave labor might make clothes for SHEIN....but also Zara, Gap, Hollister, etc. That's why it's ridiculous to call out 1 brand, when many other ones work with the same factory and workers...🥴 Sometimes even high-end/luxury brands use shady Asian factories. I remember a documentary featuring an ox fur factory that was using the same fur for both fast fashion AND a luxury brand (I think it was Max Mara?) - the only difference is that they used the "best parts" of the fur for the high-end brand, and the less good for fast fashion. So this whole "more expensive item" = "better manufacturing condition" narrative is a myth.
But I have some recommendations for fashion brands that I really like :
& Other Stories (my favorite fashion brand🧡 )
COS
Uniqlo (not very fashionable but they have great staple item/basics, knitwear, and the quality-price ratio is great)
EATME (Japanese brand that you can wear only by proxy shop so if you're interested tell me and I'll show you marketplace to buy from them. I LOVE how this brand can pull out LONG DRESSES/WINTER DRESS so well. Truly one of my biggest inspiration)
Tara Jarmon
Sezane
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danpuff-ao3 · 1 year
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Draco/Sirius 1, 13
Hi there Anon! This is fun! I do love me some Drarius!
1. Who makes the first move and how?
Hmm. It depends on what we classify as a "move." Does Draco making eyes at Sirius count as making a move? Putting his rear end right in Sirius' line of vision? All but begging for attention without actually begging for it? (But he thinks he's super suave, okay? He's just...not.)
Sirius pants after him (of course he does), but he doesn't take it too seriously, not at first. It's cute Draco has a crush on him. It's cute the way he flaunts himself. And sure, he's attractive, but he's too young. It's silly. It doesn't mean anything. Etc. Then he flirts a bit. For fun, you know. It does the boy some good to have his ego stroked. And Sirius actually is suave, so it works quite well.
And Sirius likes his ego stroked, doesn't he? So maybe he encourages the crush a bit. No harm done. But eventually it goes on long enough. Sirius confronts him. Taunts him a bit. "Do you even know what it is you want, love?"
Turns out: Draco does, in fact, know what he wants. And he's quite accustomed to getting what he wants, thank you very much. Draco's embarrassed and irritated. Sirius is horrified to realize "oh hell, he messed up, because he doesn't want to say no."
Sooooo. They go to bed together. It's all in good fun, right?
....right?
13. When do they realise they should get together?
I'm pretty sure someone is going to have to knock sense into both of them. It's just sex. Just a good time. Draco is prim and bratty and dramatic; Sirius is entertained (and a bit enchanted, sure.) Sirius is wild and crude and reckless; Draco is horrified and thrilled in equal measure (and a bit head over heels, maybe.) They tease. They bicker. Sirius takes Draco on motorcycle rides, and they go flying together. Sirius dresses up for nice events just to please Draco. It's actually kind of fun, on occasion. (Especially if he can cause a quiet scandal among the guests.) They drink wine and gossip.
It's all totally casual.
Unless you ask their friends. Harry doesn't necessarily approve, but he's dating Snape so who is he to judge? He'd like his godfather to be happy, anyway, even if it is with that poncy git.
Pansy and Blaise try to drop hints over brunch that go right over Draco's head until enough is enough, they stage an intervention. "Draco, darling. You do realize you're in love with him, don't you?"
They both have a mild crisis when they figure it out. Are awkward as hell when they see each other again. More or less dance around the subject. And settle into a proper relationship without ever actually discussing it.
So...they realize they should get together after they've already been together for a while and only after everyone is fed up with their obliviousness and they step in to help.
ship headcanon meme
answered: snarry 1, 12, 28
drarius: 1, 13
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I remembered suddenly I might have a fabric for a cape except I was kind of thinking ths fabric should be a sort of regency coat, and now i feel like maybe it might be neither and i’m just walking around my flat sadly with the whole fabric over my shoulders like an idiot.......
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bukojuiice · 3 years
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the wedding booth  — eren jaeger
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ೃ pairing: (eren jaeger x  fem! reader)
ೃ after being unwillingly dragged to plan and create a wedding booth for your first university festival, eren accompanies you to a bridal boutique. there, he contemplates about the future and all of the cheesy romantic stuff he wants to do with you.
ೃ genre and warnings: college au, lots and lots of fluff!
ೃ  my nav  →  my aot masterlist
ೃ 1k words
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My Big Fat Greek Wedding, My Best Friend's Wedding, The Wedding Planner, Wedding Crashers... hell, even Mamma Mia.
If having to be forced to watch these romantic comedies about weddings doesn't give you the sudden urge to get hitched and run away to some tropical island, then you don't know what will.
For your very first uni fair at Shigashina University, your friends had proposed a Marriage booth. To be more specific, three of your friends did. Jean, Sasha, and Connie are the masterminds behind this stupid idea and it's all because of three things:
1. Jean is pining over Mikasa so so bad. So many years have passed and yet he still hasn't found a way to confess. And so, due to his pompous ass binge-watching stupid rom-coms recently, he thinks that if "fake dating" can bring two people together, then having a fake wedding with his unrequited crush of 12 years could finally make her fall for him too. He wants the booth to be as iconic as a wedding straight out of Las Vegas. Problem is, he's never been to Las Vegas, and his terribly unrealistic basis for wanting it to be as iconic as a "Las Vegas Wedding" is that one scene from The Hangover and that episode from Friends.
He was delusional and yet, he wanted to push through with this proposal no matter what. Nothing was going to stop him... not unless it was one of the three seniors whom you would be proposing this project to in the first place.
2. Sasha's goals are much normal. A bit odd, but still normal and not as desperate as Jean's. All she wants is to get Ymir, the captain of the school's soccer team to confess to Historia, the freshman Bio-Chemistry student who works part-time as a library assistant (and whom everyone secretly fawns over for. she's just that damn cute.) However, the real reason as to why she helped [rp[pse this stupid marriage booth to get them to finally confess to each other is anyone's guess.
3. Connie thinks he's gonna get clout from this. Rise up the university hierarchy perhaps? He's treating the entire festival like it's high school all over again. He prays that the marriage booth will become the hottest thing in the festival, then he'll instantly become that cool and bad-ass freshie whom everyone wants to be friends with. Either way, if the booth is going to be a success or not, you know for a fact he's never going to be a part of the "cool kids" (good lord, can you believe people still use that term in college?) and he's gonna be stuck with you and your other friends for the rest of the years to come.
It didn't take long before they finally finished their elaborate PowerPoint Presentation (despite Connie insisting that Powerpoint is boring) that they were going to pitch to three of the principal members of the student council. Namely, Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, and Hange Zoe.
It was gonna be an automatic no for Levi, obviously. Nothing could ever get past that man. But if they can somehow convince Erwin and most especially Hange to get on board with their stupid scheme, then the booth was good to go.
Now, here you are, in a bridal boutique. Purchasing some simple wedding dresses that will serve as your rent-a-dress service for the Marriage booth.
It wasn't originally a part of the plan. Not at all.
However, Hange would only approve of the project IF the wedding booth was going to be made into something more elaborate and memorable. They didn't want something as simple as printing out fake marriage contracts, cheap tulle fabric wedding veils, fake plastic bouquets, and wedding pictures that came out of a polaroid camera.
Oh no no no. They wanted it to be extravagant. The cream of the crop. The absolute bomb. The best booth at the festival.
Hange saw potential in the idea and with an approved budget by the student council, you could make anyone's wedding dreams come true.
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 Fast forward to a week before the event, you are currently on a shopping spree with Armin, Mikasa, and your boyfriend, Eren (because Sasha insisted he had the right proportions for the rental groom outfits. She totally did not ask him to come along so that he can see you try on wedding gowns.) to buy supplies, props, decorations, and everything else needed.
"(Y/N), we'll meet you and Eren at the bridal boutique, okay?" Armin proclaims, looking at the time on his wristwatch and struggling to balance the shopping bags on his other hand.  Mikasa notices how much he's been struggling and offers to hold the bags for him.
"Sure! Don't forget about the list that Jean sent!" You shout back, turning to Eren as his fingers interlace with yours, making your merry way to the boutique whilst Armin and Mikasa go off the other direction.
"Don't get too excited." You joke, nudging Eren on the arm. "I'll just be trying on these dresses for the booth."
There's a particular glimmer in Eren's emerald eyes, chuckling at your quip. "Sheesh. Did you really have to remind me? Of course I know that. Besides, we're too young to even think about marriage right now. What's important is that I'm spending the best years of my life with you."
"Eren Grisha Jaeger, it is too damn early for you to make me a blushing pile of mess with your flirty comebacks." You deadpan, the heat rising up your cheeks as you try to hide your embarrassment from him.
The both of you laugh it off, shuffling into the store. The chiming bells of the shop door echo around the area as you look in awe at the luxurious dresses occupying every available space. The wafting smell of a vanilla pinecone scent and the soft sound of a sewing machine doing its work. There was a homey and rustic feel to this boutique that made you feel like you were sent back in time.
From great flouncy pieces adorned in layers of lace that rolled like ocean waves to more humble designs, albeit of the finest cloth.
This plethora of finery- reminds you strongly of the many genteel ladies depicted in those books and historic romances you used to read and watch. Like that of Pride and Prejudice or Sense and Sensibility.
Having the opportunity to enter a boutique such as this was a dream.
"Welcome! May I help you find anything?" A seamstress appears from the register. She looks at you from head to toe, as if trying to guess your measurements.
"W-we're looking for wedding dresses. Anything within the 200 to 300 dollar range? We don't need anything extra fancy, though! We'll just be needing them-"
Her eyes shift from you to Eren like she's suddenly a love coach, sizing the two of you up. "Yes, yes, young love! How sweet!" She chirps, breathing out a dreamy sigh. "Of course! For couples on a tight budget, we have-"
"We're looking for wedding dresses that can be used as costumes! Not too short and not too long either. W-we're not getting married or anything." You dismiss the seamstress with a wave of your hand. "I'm sorry if you thought of it that way..."
Although her shoulders visibly drop, the saleswoman still manages to smile. "Oh! I would like to apologize for assuming anything too!"
"Actually, mam, we do have plans sometime in the future." Eren grins cheekily, pulling you close to him. "Not today, of course, but we'll make sure to drop by in a few years!"
The saleslady's eyes lit up at Eren's vow. "Over here are some of our best-selling pieces! Ones that will certainly attract the eye of any groom!" She beckons you over to some mannequins lined up in the middle of the store, your gaze is drawn to the myriad of dresses on display as you walk throughout the space.
You turn back to Eren, studying him closely as he walks a few paces behind you, you thoughtfully wonder if the dresses you would pick out would match his taste.
She leads you to the back of the store to show the other garments and dresses embroidered with simplicity and yet elegance. You then pick two gowns up from their respective racks, satisfied with your purchase and making a beeline to the register to pay. However, the seamstress stops you from your tracks.
"How about this one, dear?"
You turn your attention to her, doe-eyed and curious as to what she was going to show you next.
"It is indeed a wedding dress, although not what you had asked for, the handsome young man did say something about your marriage plans. Perhaps this might help you visualize it? Give you an idea for the future, hm?" She hums wistfully, drawing your attention to the mannequin she placed in front of you. "It would be a shame if you left the boutique without trying anything on."
"(Y/N)?" You hear Eren's husky voice call out for you from the front of the store, "Armin just texted me. They can't find a specific prop in the crafts store so we might have to wait a bit longer for them."
"Okay! We can spare more time in the boutique, anyways." You answer back,  before turning your attention to the seamstress once more.
"Alright. I think I'll try it on then."
"Trying it on" turned out to be more than you had imagined. You thought you could just slip inside the dress and show it off. But nope. You needed a few adjustments to dress, adornments in your hair, and had to wear a wedding veil.
It was almost as if you were actually preparing to be wed.
"Good sir, your lovely missus is ready!" Yup, even the words of the seamstress made you feel like you were living in the 17th century right now. Did she really have to use such fancy words?
"Please, watch your step." The seamstress takes your hand and leads you out of the dressing room and right towards—
Eren who had been waiting in the shop proper.
"Doesn't she look beautiful?" She giggles, glancing at Eren for a response. "Well, I'll leave the two of you here first and bring the dresses you've chosen to the cash register first." In a wink, she's gone and had disappeared into the back almost before the words left her mouth.
The unfamiliar yet elegant garb makes you feel shy and the fact that Eren was gaping at you did not help at all. He was absolutely entranced by your beauty.
You unconsciously lower your head, tucking a strand of hair beneath your ear, unable to bear the thought.
"God, you're not just beautiful. Y-you look breathtaking."
He says in a barely audible whisper, pulling you to him once more.
Placing his hands on your waist, Eren plants a soft, tender kiss on your chest, the low-cut dress affording it easily. In a heartbeat, you feel your cheeks grow hot.
"Heh. Guess I got you again." He grins wolfishly, still admiring your beauty and tracing circles on the back of your hand. "I-I don't deserve you... I really don't."
"If you didn't deserve me, would you be here right now?" You say jokingly, raising your eyebrow.
"I mean it." He buries his face on the hem of your dress, his voice is muffled and soothing. "I can't believe you chose to love me." He looks up at you, eyes practically welling up with tears. "God, I honestly can't believe I'm crying right now, but, yeah... I am. That's how much I love you and how much I want to marry you right now."
You giggle at the expression your boyfriend has shown before you, stroking his hair and burying your fingers into his long brunette locks. "I love you too. But... why so sudden? You already told the saleswoman that we'll be back in a few years. She'd be surprised to hear you change your mind so easily."
"Well, if that's the case, then I better tell Jean to have us first on the list of the wedding booth then. We worked our asses off for this, might as well be the first to be blessed with the luck of that stupid booth."
You giggle once more as he continues to hold you so close. You feel his breath and his heartbeat. Each exhale and pulse brings you to the realization that Eren is the one. The man you want to be with for the rest of your life. The man who will help you through all your faults and mistakes, your burdens and troubles, through all the ups and downs... he will be there.
Just as you will be for him.
Guess those stupid movies centered around weddings weren’t so bad after all
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.taglist: @crapimahuman​
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under-sedationnn · 3 years
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the arcana: main 3 reacting to mc bringing them breakfast in bed
anonymous: Could you do main three (arcana) reacting to reader surprising them with breakfast? Feel free to ignore this!
thanks for the request!! i generally don't ignore requests unless i, for some reason, feel uncomfortable fulfilling them :) so i definitely wouldn't pass up something this cute!! i'm assuming you wanted a headcannon simply because you didn't specify otherwise, but if you would like for this to be converted into imagines for each of the characters, just let me know!!
requests for the kissing prompts and physical affection prompts are STILL OPEN. please send them in with the character of your choice (which could be any character from any series i write for) and i will create an imagine!! thanks and happy reading!!
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- i feel like this would be a little new to him
- because he's usually the one who brings you breakfast in bed
- to the point where it's not really a surprise anymore, like it's low-key expected
- you look forward to it
- however
- he had a really long night last night
- new inventory for the shop had gotten a little out of hand and he spent quite a few hours stocking shelves, sweeping the floor, cleaning glass, etc.
- you helped as much as you could, but he sent you to bed after it got dark
- so waking up with him still in bed was a nice surprise, and allowed you to return the favor
- he stirred a little in his sleep at your movement, but dozed back off immediately
- you decided on a lighter breakfast, something that would be refreshing
- the oven salamander toasted some bread from the market
- and you laid out slices of fresh fruit on a cutting board, placing the bread along with it
- you decided on a bright, citrusy tea
- he was still asleep when you brought it into your shared bedroom
- "asra? hey, wake up"
- shaking his shoulder kinda did nothing, i feel like he's a heavy sleeper
- a small kiss on his forehead
- that's what woke him up, love that
- when he saw the breakfast waiting at the end of the bed, two cups of tea steaming, he smiled sleepily and kissed the inside of your wrist
- "are we feeling generous this morning?" he mumbled against your skin
- "why wouldn't i? i thought i should repay the favor at some point"
- "it's not a favor when i bring you breakfast, i enjoy doing it"
- "well so do i, we can start taking turns from now on"
- he laughed lightly at that, and shared his breakfast with you
- most certainly fed you, and you did the same for him
- he really appreciates it, and thinks it's sweet that you would want to take care of him
- the morning is filled with quiet conversation, soft touch, and the rustle of bed sheets against bare feet
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- so one
- this man can't cook
- soooooo this is not like asra
- he's used to you making breakfast for the two of you because the other option isn't really worth it
- you don't usually bring him breakfast in bed though
- and he honestly usually barely touches the breakfasts you do make because he's always in a rush to get out the door
- he gets up hella early to get to the clinic
- but you had planned this
- once the sun began to creep through the windows, you were up and out of bed
- did he protest? 100%
- "trying to escape me so early in the day? really, y/n, that's just cruel"
- "i have a surprise for you, so you're gonna have to deal without me for just a little bit"
- a sleep smirk ensued
- "a surprise?"
- "oh really, julian, nothing like that"
- a peck on his chest
- "that's for later"
- with a groan, he rolled over the other way and was back to sleep by the time you slipped out of your bedroom
- when he does make time to eat, julian really enjoys hardy breakfasts
- eggs, black coffee, some sort of breakfast meat, and lots of toasted bread from the market
- fruit platters really have no place in this meal for him, much to your protest
- you got to work, the steam from the poultry causing a greasy film to line the air
- it smelled delicious
- when you brought it in to him on a small tray, he was getting dressed
- dropping a boot to the floor, he smiled and asked, "is this my surprise?"
- "yes, and you had better eat every bite, i worked hard on it"
- "oh, so demanding," he teased, "if my appetite is just as taxing, i'll try and eat you up, as well"
- "only after you've had your breakfast"
- agreeing to your terms, you sat down on the bed and ate the filling plate of food with him
- the morning was filled with the pungent scent of black coffee, the crack of market bread, and the sound of julian's soft laughter
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- i don't really think nadia is used to breakfast in bed
- she is used to being served her food
- but more so in a formal dining room, with guests, and in proper clothing
- so when you executed your plan of bringing her such a meal in bed, her servants were as shocked as you knew she would be
- the chef literally didn't even know what to tell you
- "you want to what?"
- "i want to make her breakfast, and then bring it up to our bedroom"
- "oh okay, uh, do you want me to help?"
- "no, you can start preparing lunch if you'd like"
- while raiding the pantries, you realized just how much food you kept in the palace kitchens
- spices, herbs, oils, grains, poultry, fine cheese
- it was all a little much
- so you decided on something simple
- an omelet was easy enough to make, and adding leafy greens and strong cheeses to the center of it was enough to make it look fancier than it was
- plating it alongside a bowl of fruit, diced and fried potatoes, and a glass of fresh squeezed lemonade, you made way for her sleeping chambers
- "milady, your breakfast is served"
- you tried your best to sound like portia, though it came out a bit silly
- lifting the sleeping mask from her eyes, she took in the sight of you standing beside the bed with a large, silver tray
- "y/n, darling, what in the heavens are you doing?"
- "i made you breakfast!"
- bending down slightly, you showed her the platter full of food
- her cheeks blushed slightly, and her eyes gazed at you lovingly
- "i think this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me"
- although you knew that your cooking skills didn't even come close to that of her professional chefs in the kitchen below, she ate everything with a smile and thanked you many times over
- the morning was filled with your voices echoing off the marble of the sleeping chamber, the clink of glasses, and the scent of nadia's sleep ridden body wafting throughout the air
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cs-hellzone · 3 years
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So you wanna practice/draw side portraits?
(Obligatory don't take my words or tutorial as a fact, how i do things kinda sucks. Also, while pictures are on this, I'll be explaining what I've done in each part in writing to the best I can.)
Also before we begin, here are a few useful tutorials I have saved that I use quite a bit:
Hands.
Arms/legs.
Furry spines. You'll see what I mean when you read the post.
Ass.
Proportions.
Chub tums.
Expressions.
I actually use(d) these posts quite a lot and you'll see that in my sketches a lot lmao. Now, tutorial time!
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^^ bastard bitch man shows his face again (oc: Dexter). Title card, nothin' special here lmao. You will see this image again if u end up watching my pv video tho NBdjdhdjhdeh
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Grab yourself a reference photo
(I,,,,, couldn't find a source for who this picture belonged to nor who they are so,, that information would be amazing lmao). Now, I do want to make it clear, this tutorial is more about grasping side portraits in order to start stylizing and grasping it in your own style. For the first few times, I suggest tracing the references until you feel comfortable with the proportions and common shapes (note: it is okay to trace things in a learning setting as long as you don't try to pass said thing off as your own, yadda yadda, copyright stuff.)
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Sketch out your basic shapes.
Think of how skulls are shaped. In the top majority of a skull, there is obviously the cranium, nose bone, eye holes, cheekbones and top jaw. In the bottom majority, there is your lower jaw ofc. Whenever I make my basic shape sketches, I try to picture how a skull would be positioned and roughly copy how I picture it to be. On the sketch, that's the starting oval, nose bridge, ear location (where your jaw bones connect to one another), and general jaw shape.
With your basic head drawn, you can move on to the neck bones, which will then connect to the shoulders and etc.
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Details #1
This step is pronouncing where exactly everything is, based on the general skull shape you have sketched above. Very important things to note:
Eyes are typically right where the nose bridge ends and connects to the forehead. Ears are right under where the lower jawbone connects to the top and also right under where your temples would be. Eyebrows will typically be right on the edge of the side profile, though you can get creative with it tbh. Adds more expression, when you're not practicing.
Lips suck, sometimes i just don't draw them lmao. However, it should be noted that most of the time, the length from the nostrils to the upper lip is typically equal in distance of the bottom lip to the chin. It's just smack in the middle.
Notice the lines for the chin are not completely straight to the jawline and instead curve to connect to the neck.
Also note: anatomically and within tropes, most female throats have very little to no Adam's Apple being physically shown on the throat, where the male throats have theirs much more visible. That is not to say afab cannot have a prominent Adam's Apple, or amab's Adam's Apple is present at all-- an Adam's Apple is, in fact, a funny little lump of cartilage that grows during puberty. It helps to protect your larynx [voice box]. Another fun little function of it is the assistance of deepening one's voice. It's not useless after all, huzzah!!
You can actually get it surgically reduced, fun factoid of the day. Idk about making it bigger tho. I don't see why not but i dunno.
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Hair and extra little details
[[ if using an oc ref sheet that is facing at the "camera", imagine the hair as if it were turned 90 degrees ]].
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Clean up your practice doodle/your sketch
Mmmmmmm eraser tool go o -> O
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Rinse and repeat
Repeat the practice tracing until you feel okay enough with your basic shapes. Practice makes perfect and I cannot stress that enough. References are amazing; do not be my 6th grade art teacher who said to never use references. He should have lost his art teaching privilege for it.
**note: I tried to find sources for all the reference photos used. While I'm quite certain I got the lady on the left and the man on the right to their proper sources, the middle man was ,,,,, very difficult to pinpoint. When I reverse image searched for the reference photo sources, absolutely nothing came up but a name and MANY Pinterest shit. I looked up the single name (Arsenii Savitckii; model), and he looked the same. So I'm very much hoping that's who the photo belongs to/who's in the photo. If it's not, well shit, I can fix it then once I know who it is.
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Process sketch ft Lanque
Sketch: made to get a feel of the body proportions and action flow. Idk what he's doin but he is very happy about it.
Sketch 2: basic body shapes. The neck connects to the shoulder blades and collarbone; it is useful for me to find and reference a skeleton chart and imagine it in the same pose. Some things i found through trial and error:
Where the armpits end, the boobs starts.
If you want to move the shoulder, the entire section of the back kind of moves, due to the muscles associated to that area. By moving your arm, your breast muscles, side shoulders, shoulder muscles, lower shoulder muscles, and even parts your ab moves (slightly) along with it. This is simply due to the breast muscles intent in the first place: to support the weight of your arm. That is why some people making winged characters give the character an extra set of boobs and entire muscle sections: to support the wing weight.
The spine will always have a little FroMp curve to it. Again, to reference a skeleton chart.
Neck -> collarbone/shoulder blades/spine -> pelvis -> ass -> legs.
Sketch 3: Electric Boogaloo/Clothes: clothes follow the same action the body is doing. Lanque's doing some sort of little spin,,, dance,,,,,, thing? So, his overcoat and tie is flowing with that action. In the same vein, here are places of clothing articles that will commonly have folds in it:
Elbows, knees, and ankles will have lots of folds since there is typically lots of motion there. Exeptions to this would be the cut of shirt, cut of pants (bell bottoms, tux dress pants, tuxedos in general bc they're typically pretty straight and tidy, dress shirts)
If the character has any sort of boob or ass, the shirt will fall over the boobs and ass and ,,,not really make an imprint? Unless your shirt is tight, the shirt won't hug the shape of your boobs or ass and will instead try to remain relatively straight. This will cause stretch lines.
Baggy clothes have lots of folds. They tend to be very loose fitting (ofc) and flow a touch different than a normal fitting shirt. Quite comfy, kinda feels like a loose hug. Fun fact again: the whole "appear less chubby" ordeal with clothes is basically to just wear stuff that appears to "hide" the chub. Baggy clothes are much better at "hiding chub" than tighter clothes, specifically bc they don't hug the body the same as tighter clothes.
Hoodies or jackets tend to have lots of folds. See baggy clothes, since they kinda sort of follow the same rules. They tend to fold up around any sort of tiny action being done. Stretching to the left, your hoodie will stretch with you. Stretching to the right, your hoodie will stretch with you. Numerous things going on with your arms cause the folds to appear to pull in opposite directions, though this also just depends on what you're doing.
Boots, if they go above your ankles and up your shin, will often have creases at the ankles. This is not an issue in your shoes, they have simply broken in and have loosened. (I think this is actually an issue in factory workplace settings, since you don't really want loose steel-toes if you're messing with machinery?? You could injure yourself or others, basically).
Clothes that don't rly fold a lot without lots of action flow is:
most tight fitting clothes (skinny jeans, tight fitting shirts, spandex, etc)
most suits/tuxedos are very straight and don't have lots of folds due to being neat and tidy. they're meant to be prim and proper, and clothing folds = wear and tear, which in turn means the tux/suit hasn't been taken care of??? Uhh idk man, fashion rules are weird.
Actually, lots of fancier clothes and dress shirts don't have lots of wrinkles or folds. Same prim and proper stuff. However, they probs do have some folds at the elbows bc yknow,,,, ya gotta move your arms.
The tdlr here is to keep an eye out for the action flow. If the wind is blowing a certain direction, the clothes will follow (depending on how strong the wind is) and most certainly will one's hair. Clothing folds can also be illusioned with shading!
Lineart and etc: just as it seems; lineart, coloring, shading, etc. Sometimes you make some goofs. This is the perfect time to fix those goofs, if you want. Ig. I dunno, do what u wanna.
---
Nsndnfndsndnsidn it's almost 5 am, I've been writing for the past two hours??? Doesn't feel like it. Im sleeby. going to bed.
XXX
What the fuck this is so good
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rikumorimachisgirl · 3 years
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Title: Eyes on you
Pairing: Shaw x You
Genre: Fluff
Word count: 2,901
A/N: You (Y/N) are not the MC in MLQC. This is a plunny that's been bugging me for quite a while, I had to write it. I hope you like it.
Disclaimer: I do not own MLQC or its characters, but I do own the concept of this fic.
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There were a few mysteries in this world that the esteemed Archeology Graduate Professors at Loveland University can't explain - for instance, the formation of the Stonehenge, the exact location of the lost city of Atlantis, the origin of the Nazca lines… and your presence at the Metro Art Gala dressed to the nines, positively gleaming as you strode arm in arm with your classmate and Thesis partner Shaw, who seemed like the perfect gentleman that evening. Thanks to your work at the Loveland Museum, you scored two invites to the gala featuring the recently discovered works of a well-known artist - an event any Archeology fanatic wouldn't let pass. The two of you walked along with LFG's Exhibition Hall, pausing occasionally to admire one of the recently discovered sculptures by the Renaissance artist D'Romani. As you both looked at the intricacies of the artwork in front of you, your charming companion would lean in slightly and whisper something in your ear, causing you to roll your eyes or stifle a giggle. 
To the guests in the prestigious gala, the two of you looked like two young people at the cusp of falling in love, but the members of the Faculty of the Graduate School of Archeology saw it differently - this was a real-life mystery if they'd seen one. 
As your eyes swiftly swept through the entire room, you could see that your professors only had one question in mind - how'd this happen? How did two people as different as day and night, who argued with each other throughout Graduate studies, end up amiably enjoying each other's company tonight? 
You drew a sharp breath and sighed. The answer was simple: Your Thesis defense was right around the corner. You needed him to cooperate, you were willing to go to great lengths to make it happen. And your Thesis partner (unfortunately) was ready to take full advantage of the situation. 
***
"Tell me why we're doing this again, " you said through the door that separated you and your date, as you were putting on the dress you bought (or invested on, as he casually stated) for tonight's gala, which he insisted on attending with you. It was six in the evening on a Friday, and you had just arrived home after cramming your workload at the Loveland Museum and foregoing your meal breaks just so you could leave work at exactly five-thirty. 
"I already told you a couple of times - you want me to cooperate with you so you can pass our Thesis, and I need a reason to be around her," the purple-haired man waiting at the other side of your bedroom door called out nonchalantly. "You can drop your fantasy about me asking you out because I'm attracted to you."
You hissed silently at his snarky remark and counted to ten. You haven't even left your apartment yet you already wanted this night to be over. "How do you even know she's gonna be there?"
She - the Miracle Finder Producer, the object of your Thesis Partner's fantasies, and as fate would have it, his brother's girlfriend. 
"They're doing a show featuring our Thesis adviser. Didn't he tell us about it during our last consultation?" He asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"I wasn't listening," you shot back, as you took off your ponytail and started styling your hair with your curling iron. You chose a one-shoulder fitted black dress that stops right above your knees, so you thought of wearing your hair down for a change. 
"Ah, yes. You were too busy looking at your notes, trying to prove me wrong as always."
You closed your eyes, as you continued to make big beach waves and prayed to the gods you wouldn't commit murder tonight. 
"How much longer are you gonna take?"
"Excited much?" You asked, smirking while you now removed your glasses and put on your contacts. "You sound like a teenager excited to see his crush in a school fair!"
"Don't compare me to you!" 
"I don't have designs on anyone in the party," you called back. "Unless your brother's attending the event, that is. From what you've been telling me, he seems like a great guy."
Silence. You arched an eyebrow as you strained your ear to listen for any sign of life outside your bedroom door. What must your grunge-rock skater boy-turned-date-for-the-evening be thinking? 
"Do you want to pass our Thesis or not?"
You struck a victory pose at his remark. Finally, one point - you, Shaw - about twenty. 
"Are you done yet? This suit is really uncomfortable. Damn, why do people even wear these?"
"Because they're decent?" You shot back. "You know, you can always go home if you're not comfortable in your attire because when we get there, you need to act decent, too. Can't have your usual swagger in a formal affair."
"Just hurry it up already!"
You rolled your eyes as you applied your nude-colored lipstick to finish off your look before putting on your black stilettos, and stuffing your phone, wallet, and your makeup in your purse. 
"All done," you replied, as you finally emerged from your room. 
***
A part of you wished that the dynamics between you and Shaw were different. While he was a pain in the neck, and too carefree for his own good, you also thought he made for a good intellectual sparring partner, quite attractive, and it was hard to deny that he's got your heart beating double-time whenever he got too close for comfort like he was at that very moment. 
"My, you two kids seem to be having fun tonight."
You gasped, at the sound of the voice behind you, and you felt your date nudge you ever-so-subtly while straightening.
"Hey, Professor Adler," he said in his usual unruffled tone, his lips stretched into a smirk as he held his hand out to your Anthropology professor and Thesis adviser, who watched you both amusedly. His gesture made your eyes shot wide open, you thought they'd fall right off. Shaw shaking someone's hand? That's one for the books. 
"Shaw. Fancy seeing you here," the stout middle-aged man greeted while shaking your date's hand. "This isn't your usual scene though."
"Yeah, I know, but I can't exactly turn a pretty lady down, can I?" 
"I can see that," your professor said as he looked at you appraisingly. "Well, well, you clean up well, Miss (y/n)."
You fought the urge to squirm at the older man's words when you heard your date cluck his cheeks with his tongue and suddenly felt his arm around your shoulders, pressing you protectively close to his side. 
***
"All done!" You happily announced as you stepped into the living room of your small apartment where your date was impatiently waiting for you. 
You could've sworn he was stunned for a second or two before he shook his head and tried to regain his usual impassive expression. Finally, he stood and walked closer to assess you better. 
"You're not wearing your glasses. I thought you said you're practically blind without them?" 
You cocked your head to one side. Out of all the things he could've complimented or called out, that's the first thing he noticed? 
"Wouldn't it look awkward if I wore glasses to a formal event?"
"Your hair is all curly," he continued as if you didn't say anything. "And your shoes are so tall, won't you trip? Also, surely you have a jacket to go with that dress, right?" 
You stared at him in disbelief. Why did this carefree, bass-playing skater boy turn into your dad all of a sudden? 
"Uh…"
"Well, at least you're not wearing red lipstick. You don't have to try too hard to look sexy. Geez! I've got plans of my own this evening, so don't expect me to be your bodyguard," he continued to mumble as he circled around you. Before long, you felt something warm and heavy on your shoulder. His coat?
"It's just until we get to the venue," he shrugged as he led you to the car he borrowed for tonight. "I don't want people seeing you freeze to death."
You sighed, your shoulders slumped as you followed your date to the car. You already expected he wouldn't throw you a compliment for looking like a proper human tonight, and you cursed yourself for feeling gutted over it anyway. 
 ***
"So, which one of these sculptures did you like best, Professor?" You sighed in relief as Shaw changed the subject, his arm still wrapped around you, making you blush furiously. 
"Oh, I have to say I liked Eros and Psyche best. In case you haven't seen it yet, it's located a little further down the hall near the bar area," the older man was starting to explain when someone tapped his shoulder from behind. 
"Excuse me, Professor Adler," a gentle voice called out, making both the professor and Shaw jump. From behind the old man, a pretty petite with brown hair and big brown eyes, and the biggest smile on her face stepped up. "My name is MC from Miracle Finder."
Almost immediately, Shaw withdrew his arm around you, almost causing you to stagger backward. He straightened up and feigned disinterest. 
"Hey. It's a little rude how you stepped in while I was talking to the Professor," he said, his tone teasing. 
"Oh, I didn't notice you here. Do you mind if I talk to your Professor? We've invited him for an interview about the exhibit," the girl said sweetly. 
Based on how unconsciously coy she acted around Shaw, and the way he kept egging her, there was no doubt that this was the girl he was crushing on. You felt like the odd person out all of a sudden and needed to step away. 
You backed away slowly, careful not to rouse their attention because it would probably suck if you knew how Shaw would introduce you to his little crush. As soon as you were in a safe distance, you turned and walked aimlessly down the hall, pausing briefly at paintings or sculptures that caught your fancy, looking at its intricacies as you did so earlier. But somehow, it wasn't as fun as it was before, so you moved on quickly, to give way to the other guests who also wanted to view the artwork.
Finally, you came upon the bar and decided to rest your tired feet at the far corner, hidden from the rest of the world. Sighing, you slipped your feet off your stilettos and quietly watched as the guests around you - mostly couples - happily chatting away as they enjoyed the beauty of the art around them and the wonderful music that filled the air. You knew somewhere in the crowd, your date was fawning over his lady love, probably getting in the way of her filming your professor. 
Tch. 
You knew he liked her - he always told you he did. And why wouldn't he? MC was pretty, seemingly sweet, and dainty - the kind of girl any guy would like to protect. And you. You were the opposite. You lived for your work, were 'one of the boys', and didn't need anyone to protect you - that's just how you were - and now you started to realize that maybe guys don't exactly like that. At least not Shaw. 
Wait, what were you thinking? You scolded yourself as you shook your head. Why were you even thinking of what he liked when you don't even like him to start with. Or did you? 
"Ugh. What the hell is wrong with me?" You groaned when a cold bottle of beer and a frozen glass was placed in front of you. 
"I was gonna ask you that myself." 
You straightened up in your seat and shot a look at the guy seated beside you. Dressed in a nice grey suit, he smiled as he raised his beer bottle in front of you. 
"You look like you needed a drink. I hope the beer is okay. They don't have fruit beer or soda," he said calmly, his amber-colored eyes never leaving yours. 
"Y-yeah. Beer is perfect," you replied while pouring the amber liquid into the glass. "Thanks," you muttered before raising the glass to your lips to gulp down some liquid courage. 
"I saw you with Shaw earlier -"
The name on his lips drove you to a coughing fit, as you choked on your drink. "Sorry, " you mumbled in between coughs. 
"No, I'm sorry," the brown-haired guy said, as he cautiously and politely patted your back. "I didn't mean to bring that up. I was just curious."
"It's fine," you replied when you finally regained your composure. "Yes, we're just classmates in Grad school who decided to check this exhibit out for the heck of it."
"Classmates, huh?"
"Yeah, that's what we are," you said, taking a sip off your glass. "Grad school classmates."
"Are you telling me or telling yourself?"
You looked up and saw him smiling. There was something about Dreamy McHandsome who was seated beside you that felt so familiar yet different at the same time, but you couldn't point a finger at what it was exactly. 
"We're classmates, and we're working on our thesis together. But we're not friends - far from it even. We hate each other's guts."
"Can't blame you for doing so," he shrugged as he drank his beer. 
"Yeah. He dragged me here so he can get with someone he's been crushing on for so long," you rambled on, frowning. 
"Oh? And who might that be?"
"The Miracle Finder Producer. You know, the pretty girl in a blue top and white skirt. He's been going on and on about her for weeks…"
"You mean my girlfriend?" 
His girlfriend. You choked on your drink once again. "Y-y-your girlfriend? You mean to say…" You gasped. Has the beer made you stupid? You've barely drunk half of it, you thought as you fought to regain your dignity. This was Shaw's brother you were talking to - and boy, we're they blessed with good genes…
… And the same social awkwardness, you noticed, judging by how he kept his hand at your back, but not exactly touching it, as if trying to assess if he had to pat you or not. 
When you finally calmed down, he cleared his throat and gave you a small smile. "Don't worry. She talks to me about their conversations. I know what that guy is playing at, and I most definitely know he's not after my girl," he said, his voice broke no room for doubt. "My name is Gavin..."
"Yeah, I know…"
"You - what?"
"Oh," you said, tapping on your glass nervously. "Shaw kinda mentioned it in passing before."
"I see."
"So, what were you saying earlier about Shaw?"
"Oh. From what my girlfriend tells me, he's got his sights set on…"
"Ahem," you heard someone say loud enough for you and Gavin to turn your heads around. And there, standing behind you, was an angry-looking Shaw. You sat up, your gaze shifting between the two brothers as the air started to thicken with tension. "I talk to someone for a minute and the next thing I knew, my date walks out on me and right into the one person I'd hate for her to meet."
"Well, if you were just honest with her as with a lot of other things in your life, maybe she wouldn't have left your side earlier," Gavin retorted flippantly. "Is she finally done with filming?"
Shaw simply grunted in reply as he watched his older brother finish his bottle of beer and stand. "Well, Miss, there's a lot I've heard about you. Seems somebody couldn't stop talking about you, but I'll leave it at that." 
With a wink and a mischievous smile upon his face, the brown-haired guy sauntered off to look for his better half, as you and Shaw watched in awkward silence. 
He cleared his throat and glanced at you. "Hey."
"Hey," you replied, shakily. 
"So, about what that jerk said -"
"Yes?" You asked, feeling your heart hammer against your chest by the second.
"Whatever he said is not true," he said dismissively, as he took his coat off and draped it over your shoulders. "I told you before, I don't find you the least bit attractive."
You felt tears starting to sting your eyes, as he continued with his harsh commentary. "You're tough, highly opinionated, and you always want to come out on top. I don't find those attractive at all," he said. "I prefer a damsel in distress. I want someone clingy… someone, needy."
"I know that -"
"Oh do you?" He teased, his amber eyes twinkling. "You seem to know a lot about me."
"We've been working together for months now," you said. "Of course, I'd know more about you."
"I see," he said, as he took a step closer to you and touched your cheek, rubbing the stray tear that had managed to slip down the side of your face. "So, you must know I'm also a good liar. After all, I've kept all these feelings to myself for quite some time."
He snickered when he saw your frown deepen and he bent down just as he had done so earlier, to whisper. "I made you think I liked someone else when in fact," his low voice made you shiver. "I've always eyes for you."
The End.
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alj4890 · 3 years
Text
Angst Prompt
Dawn’s Early Light
(Part Three to One Fateful Night)
As requested by many of you.
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(Liam x OC) in a one shot continuation of the angsty One Fateful Night.
A/N Here's some happiness to the angst so many sent messages about. I know it is still bittersweet in a way, with Riley being dead and all, but I think it gives our favorite prince a chance to find true love after all. On another note, I had at one time considered Liam meeting someone in Washington D.C. in another story where Riley died the night of the Homecoming Ball in Book 2. I guess this makes up for deleting it and never posting, LOL.
Part 2 The Dark Before the Dawn
 @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09   @gkittylove99 @krsnlove   @mom2000aggie @twinkleallnight @lodberg @sweatyrysconnoisseur ​ @motorcitymademadame ​
Masterlist
Dawn’s Early Light
Somewhere in Maryland...
"Sir?"
Liam grimaced at the voice coming through loud and clear from his cell phone. The one time he convinced Bastien that he could travel on his own and the man still made certain to call every hour.
"Yes?" He huffed.
"Your current location?"
"That at the moment is a little difficult to pinpoint." Liam squinted through the pouring rain. "One of the roads was flooded and the numerous detours have sent me further east of D.C."
He could hear frantic mutterings in the background, papers shifting and clicks from computers.
"Pull over and we will try to locate you." Bastien ordered.
Liam looked about at the flour lane highway, barely able to see five feet ahead of him. "There isn't a spot to do so. I'll call once I find a safe place."
"Your majesty," he could hear the frustration in his Head of the King's Guards' voice, "this is why I insisted we fly down together."
"And I knew this was my last chance to take a road trip of sorts." Liam countered. "You worry too much, Bastien."
"And you don't worry enough." Bastien muttered. "If you haven't found a place within the next hour, I am coming to find you."
"Make sure to bring a rowboat." Liam teased. "That's probably the best way to travel here."
His jest was met with silence.
"Bastien?" Liam glanced down at his phone and saw the call had dropped. Tossing it back in the passenger seat, he continued on down the road.
*****************
Outside of Annapolis...
"No!" Autumn pleaded when her tire burst. "You've got to be kidding me!"
Pulling over onto the shoulder of the highway, she tried to call her parents.
"Gee, thanks for no bars." She grumbled, chucking her phone back into her purse.
Reaching for her coat she prepared herself mentally to change her own tire.
Why did Dad have to make it so boring? He knew I wouldn't pay attention!
It had been ten years since she had sat through that lesson, day dreaming of the cute guy who sat next to her in chemistry class.
And just like her lack of luck with Mr. Chemistry, she was about to fail miserably with her tire.
She pulled the flashlight and tools out her father insisted she keep in her vehicle at all times and stepped out into the rainstorm.
"Any creepy serial killers out there," she yelled towards the darkened woods that lined the highway, "now is NOT the time to mess with me!"
She paused in removing the jack from her trunk. "That goes for any wild animals unless you're the helpful kind from fairy tales."
She snorted at her own joke as she set reflectors along the road. "And if you know of any princes, do send them my way."
"Alright car, you and I have been through it." She patted it's side. "All the snow storms in Pennsylvania. New jobs. New apartments. Ex boyfriends." She knelt by the flat tire. "Let's get through this and I'll treat you to a tank of premium gas."
She removed the hubcap and blinked when a pair of bright headlights pulled up behind her.
"Didn't I specifically demand no serial killers?" She muttered to herself as she saw the silhouette of a man start walking her way.
"Pardon me?" A cultured voice called out. "Are you in need of any assistance?"
She lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the light. "I wouldn't say no to some help."
Her mystery person stopped a couple of feet away from her and studied her tire.
"Where's the jack?"
She handed it to him and watched as he expertly began to raise the back end up.
"Here's the tool kit." She handed it over, discreetly keeping a screwdriver in her hand in case he was a psycho.
"I hate to keep you out in the rain, but could you shine your flashlight here so I can remove the lug nuts?"
"Right. Of course." She dutifully lifted it where he directed.
"Perfect." He turned to smile at her. "Thank you."
She blinked at how handsome he was. "I, no problem. I should be thanking you."
"My pleasure." He looked around. "I don't suppose you know where we are, do you?"
Oh no. A hot psycho. Just my luck.
"Um, don't you know?" She took a cautious step back.
"I've never been in this part of America before." He explained, unaware of her trepidation. "I lost GPS about two hours ago."
"Oh." She relaxed and stepped closer. "We're about forty-five minutes from Annapolis.
"How far is that from D.C.?" He asked.
"About forty minutes or so depending on traffic." She tilted her head. "Let me guess. You're a politician or aide of some sort."
He chuckled. "Not really."
"You certainly don't sound like the men in Washington."
"Oh? And how do they sound?"
"Arrogant jerks. Every last one of them. Even the mailroom guys act like they rule the world." Her nose wrinkled.
"Ah." Her handsome stranger removed her flat tire and placed the spare on. "Not fond of men in power, I take it."
"Not really." She squatted next to him, hoping she would remember his actions in case she had another flat tire some time in the future. "I guess there's bound to be one man out there who actually wants to serve the people instead of having them serve him."
"I see." He glanced over at her. "I like to think there are honest rulers out there."
Her brow furrowed. "Rulers?" She studied his profile. "You're not American, are you?"
He shook his head. "No."
"Where are you from?" Her eyes narrowed in thought. "Your accent is hard to place."
"Cordonia" he grunted as he tightened the lug nuts. "Have you heard of it?"
"It sounds familiar." She muttered.
"It is a tiny but beautiful country in Europe." He explained.
"Isn’t every European nation?” She teased. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of of one that I would turn down a vacation to.”
He began to lower her car back down with the jack. "All done."
"I don't know how to thank you." She pushed her wet hair back, wondering how horrible she must look as she picked up the safety reflectors
"No need." He smiled warmly. "Have a good evening, my lady." With an instinctive bow, he turned and walked back to his own car.
"My lady?" Her lips quirked with humor. Perhaps the fairy tale animals had sent her a prince. "Hey! Wait!"
He paused with his car door open. "Yes?"
"There's an all night diner a few miles ahead." She took a deep breath. "Would you like to follow me there? We could dry off and I could buy you a piece of pie as a thank you."
Her hero's smile grew brighter. "I'd like that. Lead the way."
********************
"I'm Autumn." She held her hand out as they waited to be seated.
"A pleasure to meet you. My name is Liam." He took her hand and bowed over it.
"Is that how people greet one another in Cordonia?" She asked.
"It is the norm from where I grew up." He responded with a sheepish grin.
He shook her hand. "Is that better?"
"Your way was fine." She glanced down at their clasped hands. "I just feel a little under dressed for such a proper greeting."
"Nonsense." Liam continued to hold her hand. "A little water logged perhaps, but lovely nonetheless."
Her lips parted in surprise.
"Just the two of you?"
The pair turned toward a waitress.
"Yes." Autumn replied. "Just us."
"Follow me." She sat them at a table and handed over some menus. "What can I get you to drink?"
"Coffee, please." Autumn replied.
"I'll have the same." Liam added.
"Coming right up."
*********************
"Autumn?" Liam tested her name. "Were you given that name due to being born in the fall?"
She shook her head. "My parents have a warped sense of humor. I was born in April."
He laughed causing her to smile once more.
She thought his laughter had such a warm encompassing sound that made her want to hear it often as she could.
"They also wanted to have their kids' initials for Pennsylvania." She rolled her eyes. "My older brother, Patrick, took care of the P while I completed it with an A." Her own laughter bubbled out. "Then my unplanned younger brother was born and threw those initials out the door."
"What did they name him?" Liam asked.
"August, since he was born in January. Being that he was a surprise, they went with another A name to have an, aaahhh, moment at the end of P.A.."
Liam shook with his laughter over her parents. "They sound delightful."
"They sound that way," she teased, "but when you live with them..." Her smile softened. "They really are great parents and my brothers aren't too bad either."
"I have an older brother." He told her. "Leo and I were never as close as I wished we could have been. He spends so much time traveling and exploring the world that I don't have the heart to pressure him into coming home more often." A sadness came over him. "I've never seen him so happy as when he sends me pictures from his latest adventure."
"He's a wandering soul." She added.
"Precisely." Liam refocused on her. "And a wanderer withers and dies if tied down."
"What about your parents?" She asked.
"My mother died when I was very young and my father passed away about five years ago." He explained. "I'm close to my stepmother, Regina. She and Leo are all I have left for family."
"I'm sorry." Autumn mumbled. "I didn't mean to dredge up painful--"
Her breath caught when he laid his hand over hers. She thought she could actually feel herself getting lost in his blue eyes...which was something she teased her friends over every time they mentioned something like that. Yet here she was, finding herself falling for a man who changed her tire in the rain.
He gently squeezed her fingers. "Nothing to apologize for. I miss them but I am done grieving."
As their waitress brought them a fresh pot of coffee, Liam realized how true that statement was. He was done grieving for all of his lost loved ones.
******************
"Now then." Liam looked up from his menu. "Do you work in Washington?"
"I do." She replied. "Not in a political aspect though."
"What do you do?" He asked.
"I'm an archivist at the National Air and Space Museum."
His expression brightened with interest. "I've always wanted to visit the Smithsonian. To work and preserve the very fabric of your nation's history must be fascinating."
"It is!" She leaned forward as she became more animated about her work.
Deciding to prolong this conversation, the two ordered a meal before indulging in pie.
Liam listened, asking questions that only made her more excited in sharing this piece of her life.
It was rare for Autumn to find anyone interested in what she did.
"Right now, my team is working on digitizing everything we have on rocket tests during the 1950's." She explained. "Reading through the vast paperwork, various film and photographs, all audio recordings; I get to sift through every bit of it for our records."
"I once assisted an archivist at the palace library." Liam told her. "I discovered long ago manuscripts and journals in a hidden nook." His smile softened at the memory. "It was all by accident. My best friend and I were playing in one of the ballrooms when the soccer ball we were kicking around struck a piece of the baseboards, causing a hidden door to open."
Autumn's eyes widened. "It's a wonder you didn't get in trouble with the palace curators. They do not appreciate anyone playing around the exhibits."
Liam chuckled. "I was lucky the curators were fond of me."
"You knew them?" She asked. "Were they family members?"
"They aren't family, but I did know them." He replied, being deliberately mysterious about who he was.
He hadn't had a normal conversation in years. When she didn't recognize him, he felt a lightness he had felt on that long ago night in New York. He had forgotten how it was, how it made him feel. So often, people said the things they thought he wanted to hear. He missed the back and forth of sharing personal tidbits.
Autumn grimaced when she realized she had basically dominated the conversation for nearly an hour.
"Enough about my work," she smiled at him, "what do you do? Did you come here for business or to finally see the Smithsonian?"
He chuckled before taking a sip of his coffee. "As much as I would prefer spending my days wandering through museums, I am here to meet with government officials."
Her nose wrinkled. "I’m sorry. I do not envy you for that." Her eyebrow lifted. "What's the government like in Cordonia? Do you have a prime minister or something similar to our president?"
"We are a constitutional monarchy with the king as the Head of State." He explained.
"I see. Then you work in some capacity for him?" She continued. "You must to be here for meetings."
Liam lowered his eyes. "I suppose you could say that."
"So what's your job title?" She persisted. "Are you a member of the house of lords or whatever you have? Aide to the king?"
"I have a higher position than anything like that." He hedged. "Which is why I'm the only one to attend these meeting the next couple of weeks."
Her brow furrowed. "The king doesn't handle stuff like that?"
"He does which is why I'm here." He focused on her eyes. "The king is the only one to handle the approval for trade agreements and maintaining friendly relations with other countries."
"Then why isn’t he..." She burst into laughter. "You really had me going there for a moment." She shook her head at him. "Nice try, but no king travels alone on highways in a Nissan Altima."
"I do when I want to appear a regular man." He explained.
"Because isn't that royalty is all about?" She giggled some more. "Living life as a middle class man."
"I'm sincere." He argued. "I really am the King of Cordonia."
Her laughter died. "And just when I thought you weren't mentally unhinged." She sighed while picking at her piece of blueberry pie. "I knew you were too good to be true. No man can be both selfless and handsome without a few screws loose."
Liam's elation she found him attractive caught him by surprise. It wasn't that other women had not said similar to him at various functions. It was that he actually felt attracted to her too.
"I can prove I'm the king."
"How long have you believed you were king?" She asked. "Any chance you've thought you were someone else at one time? Napoleon Bonaparte? King Tut?"
He snorted on his laughter. "I've been king for over six years now. The rest of my life was spent as a prince."
"Uh huh." She poured them each another cup of coffee. "Guess that explains why you weren't banned from the palace for playing soccer."
"It is my home." He pointed out.
"Sure it is." She patted his hand. "And I'm sure you're the best king out there who knows how to change a tire."
"I only know because my best friend taught me." Liam explained. "He was one of the few people in my life who did not allow me to become a spoiled prince."
"Right." She smiled at him. "It's been great and all." She reached into her purse for her wallet. "And I do thank you so much for your help with the flat tire, but I should go."
"You don't believe me?" He asked.
"I believe you believe it." She said cautiously.
Liam quickly pulled his phone out and handed it to her. "Look up Cordonia."
"Just because you think you're a king doesn't mean you can order me around." Her eyes narrowed in warning. "Besides, I wouldn't use your phone. You'd probably have me looking at some doctored photos of yourself."
"Forgive me I didn’t mean to make it sound like a command." Liam ran a hand through his hair. "I've never met anyone who didn't believe I am who I say."
"First time for e everything, huh?" She hesitated when she saw his disappointment. "Fine." She searched for her phone. "I'll play along if you find our waitress. I'm going to need more pie as I research you."
He grinned while doing as she asked.
Autumn wandered of it was because it was the middle of the night that made her sit here with some guy claiming to be--
"No!" Her eyes darted from the images of King Liam of Cordonia to the Liam sitting at her table. "You're really a king?!"
"Would you care for another slice of blueberry or a different type of pie?" He asked with a bright smile.
"Blueberry." Her jaw was still dropped.
"Another slice of blueberry please for the lady and I'll have a slice of apple."
"Why on earth are you traveling lone highways in Maryland?" She asked when their waitress left.
"I flew in to New York for a few meetings with U.N. representatives. Our representative is new to her job and I wanted to encourage her." He explained. "Then I suppose I caught a bit of wanderlust from my brother and wanted to drive down to D.C." He took a bite of his new slice of pie. "It's rare I am able to convince my security team to let me out of their sight, but there are times when I like to be alone with my thoughts."
"I guess you have a lot of people demanding your time." She conceded.
"I do, which is why I make time for the people and activities that are important to me." He looked up at her. "Experience has taught me how fleeting time can be and we should make the most of every moment we are given."
"I like that." She cut into her slice with her fork while scrolling through images of Cordonia. "A lot of people get so easily wrapped up in their work and don't realize that they are missing out on so much more."
"Are you one of those people?"
Autumn paused chewing to consider his question. "Sometimes. I can get so wrapped up in a project and shut out the world going on around me." She shrugged. "Then something happens to shake me back to reality."
Liam grinned when it hit him that his being confirmed king had not changed the way she spoke to him.
As if reading his thoughts, her fork clattered on her plate. "I can't believe you really are a king." Her head tilted as she studied him. "You really don't act like how I imagine one would."
Liam folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. His bright blue eyes held her gray ones. "How should I act?"
She snorted. "For one thing you wouldn't have stood out in the pouring rain to change a tire."
"Aren't fairy tales filled with princes rescuing damsel in distress?" He countered.
She rolled her eyes playfully. "It isn't like you slayed a dragon."
"According to your imagination, what should I have done in that situation?" He countered, delighted with her not putting him on a pedestal.
"First off, if you were on a," she made quotation marks with her fingers, "road trip, you'd probably be in a limo since your private jet is tucked away in a hangar somewhere."
"But then I would have a driver and thus not able to be alone." He reminded her.
"True." She propped her chin on her hand and smiled. "We'll forget the car then since you are chivalrous and in need of a break." She gestured with her free hand around the diner. "A king wouldn't come her, happily order food, nor be willing to sit here for hours listening to some girl talk about museums."
"Why not?" Liam asked. "He could have been hungry since he had been lost for a while."
"I guess that's a reasonable possibility." Autumn muttered.
"And if he wanted to know more about the damsel he rescued, then shouldn't he be at least willing to remain here with her?"
"Maybe." She forced herself to look away from him. "Then again, maybe this is a night for things out to the ordinary to happen." She asked their waitress for their check.
Autumn shushed his arguments, insisting on paying for his meal.
At that moment, Bastien and some guards walked in.
Liam's eyes widened. "Bastien? How did you find me?"
"We have a tracker on your phone, your majesty." He explained. "We really need to get you to Washington. You have an early morning of..."
Liam tuned him out and focused once more on the lady he had met tonight.
"It's my fault." Autumn spoke up. "I wanted to thank Liam with some pie for his help earlier."
She stood up and held her hand out. “Thank you again for helping me.”
Liam pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Autumn."
"I..." She could feel her entire body blush with that simple touch. "I'm happy to have met you too, Liam." She grimaced. "I mean, your majesty. Should I curtsy?"
He chuckled. "Just Liam with no curtsey is fine."
"Liam no curtsey." She winked at him. "Nice name for a king." Nodding farewell toward his guards, she slipped out of the restaurant.
Liam watched her drive off from one of the windows.
He wondered if he had just met the one.
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joezworld · 3 years
Text
Fools in Love (3/10)
Worst Thieves Ever
The next week passed in a blur of emotions and happiness for both engines.
Henry was astonished that he'd managed to miss all of the now-obvious signs that he was romantically attracted to Bear, and was now fully in the throes of "happy sickness", and genuinely felt better when Bear was nearby.
Bear, meanwhile, was on top of the world. Acknowledging that he was now actually in love meant that all of the pent-up emotions from the past decade were coming out all at once. He was downright chipper when he was alone, and when Henry was nearby, he was so absurdly upbeat that the other engines were wondering if The Fat Controller had bought another Hymek and swapped the numbers again!
“So,” Bear asked Henry as they sat in the yard between trains. “What do we do, now that we’re together?”
“I don’t know,” Henry said thoughtfully. “I know that humans go on things called ‘dates’, where they go to dinner and then the cinema, but I don’t think we can do that...”
“We certainly wouldn’t fit into the building.”
“And I don’t think we could eat dinner without bothering our crews.”
“Unless you want to pull a Thomas and crash through the restaurant wall.”
“Hah! We could always save that for the holidays.”
-
“Henry’s getting awful chummy with the Hymek, isn’t he?” James muttered suspiciously from the coaling stage.  
“Goodness gracious me,” Duck said. “It’s almost like he’s known Bear for an extended period of time. What is it that happens when you spend a long time near somebody? I think you become friends with them.”
“You know what I mean. It’s like they’re different locomotives.”
“Perhaps their personalities contain more than one side. I hear that some engines can achieve that.”
“And what are you implying by that??”
“Your paint is dirty.”
“AAACK! Someone get a rag and some polish!”
-
46 040 smiled to herself as she watched the steam engines bicker. This was a funny little island, with so much more character than the Midlands.
Engines were nicer here, and they welcomed her as a friend on the first day she arrived - even if it had taken some time for their in-joke to be explained to her - she couldn’t believe that she’d rescued Spamcan’s rescuers. There was no in-fighting, no yard politics, just close-knit friends, even across class lines.
They also didn’t seem to give any mind to ‘how the railway should work’, as some of her classmates might say. As she backed down onto her train, she was acutely aware that the only engine newer than her was the laughing diesel-hydraulic in the yard. Everywhere else she looked, there was nothing but steam, steam, and more well-kept steam.
Modernization seems to have missed this island altogether. She thought as passengers bustled into the coaches. Even the rolling stock was antique - a bunch of ‘Big 4′ era corridor coaches, all nicely painted into a unified livery. On the mainland, the Mark 1s had displaced these old carriages from even maintenance trains, but Sodor was using them on top link services.
“Eurgh. Can you believe this, 40?” Oiled an unpleasant voice from alongside her.
She glared at the Class 56, annoyed by both his existence and his sudden appearance. From what she understood, the North Western Region often borrowed engines from other regions temporarily, which explained why she was still on the island and why the destable 56 was sullying this otherwise pleasant station. “What can I believe, 031?”
“This!” The diesel sniffed dismissively as 040 rolled her eyes. He had evidently decided that anything new to him was bad - a problem considering that he was barely two months old. “All of this outdated junk!  I feel like I’ve been driven into a black-and-white film! Steam engines here, teak coaches there! I don’t think these vans are even fitted with brakes!” He looked back at his train - a line of surly looking vans glared back, clearly insulted. The brakevan on the rear seemed to be resigned to a difficult run before the train left the station. “I am immeasurably pleased that this is my last train on this island.”
“I think it’s charming.” 040 said quietly.
“You would.” 031′s tone was cold.
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’d fit in here - you’re non-standard, just like they are.”
040 wanted to say something that would turn the air as blue as her paintwork, but before she could do so, a whistle blew, and 031′s driver began to drive the rude engine out of the station. “I don’t believe we shall meet again - your class’ time is coming sooner than you think.” 031 said with startling levels of nonchalance as he rumbled out of the station, his vans angrily trailing behind him.
“And good riddance to you too, you slag sucking shitstain.” 040 muttered to herself as the train rattled out of sight.
Shortly, her own guard blew his whistle, and she set off with the midday express.
-
Crovan's Gate Works - That night
"I didn’t think we'd be back here so soon." Henry whispered to Bear as they rolled into the Works yard.
"I didn’t either." Bear said, trying to disturb the rest of their train.
It was well past midnight, and both breakdown cranes, the support coach, and the battered Class 46 had nodded off on the slow ride from the accident site.
"Is she all right?" Henry asked quietly. He was leading the train, and couldn’t see.
"As well as she can be." Considering that the lightweight parcel vans had been reduced to so much kindling by the accident, it was amazing that the 46 was as uninjured as she was - just a few torn and warped panels, some gravel abrasions, and a broken nose.
If Bear was being honest, he thought that she'd gotten off better than the 56, who was physically intact, but had been subjected to one of the longest and angriest dressing-downs that The Fat Controller had ever given.
The poor engine had looked utterly shell-shocked as he took what remained of his train on to Barrow.
The two were silent as they pushed the sleeping 46 into the works proper, and then backed the breakdown train into its siding. Their crews were dead on their feet after eight hours plus overtime, and shuffled off to the works' bunkhouse for some well needed rest.
Henry and Bear watched them leave, not even remotely tired. Since their mutual revelation last week, neither engine had been able to sleep for very long, their minds spinning with thoughts of each other.
Even after a week, they had run out of all possible conversation, but could still spend hours without a word between them.
"D'ya think that this counts as a date?" Bear said after many minutes of comfortable silence.
"I think an argument could be made." Henry said thoughtfully. "We did something together, but from what I understand, usually there's supposed to be 'romance', and 'courting', not smashed vans and breakdown cranes. Also, I assume that, on a date, we should be enjoying ourselves and not wondering if someone is hurt."
Bear considered that for a long moment. It had been a pretty terrible date, considering they were clearing up a train crash. "Do you want me to court you?"
"I think that's supposed to happen before you fall in love, and I already have."
"Oh. Then what do we do if we're already..."
"Madly in love with each other?"
"Yes."
"I don't know."
"Well," Bear said finally. "Then we'll have to figure that out together."
------
Three Days Later
Henry didn’t see the 46 after he and Bear left in the morning - the massive service disruption caused by the accident meant that he spent most of the weekend shuttling ballast wagons back and forth between Cronk and Arlesburgh, as well as soothing Gordon’s temper over having to ‘dilly-dally in work zones all day’.
Fortunately, there wasn’t a great deal of damage on the main line, and after three days of frantic work, the maintenance of way crews had put everything back to normal. Henry was the first train through the rebuilt section with a massively-delayed Flying Kipper, and was surprised at how much damage the men had managed to reverse - the only remaining signs of the accident was the torn up lineside vegetation.
 Arriving at Barrow, he found the yard in disarray - three days worth of goods trains were clogging the small yard, and the diesel shunter was so overworked that he forgot to be rude to Henry as he took away the fish vans.   
The yard was so crowded that Henry couldn’t even get into the sheds to rest before his next train, and was forced to sit in the middle of the yard while his crew went for their tea break. 
He wanted to get some rest as well, but the shunter was moving around the yard at such a rate that it was impossible to get more than a few minutes of rest before the Class 03 scuttled by with more vans.  
After one large rake of hoppers were shoved out of the way, another engine became visible a few roads over - it was the 46. 
Henry was surprised to see her - there hadn’t been enough time to fix any of her panels in the last three days, and indeed, she was just as battered and bruised as she was when he and Bear left her in the works. The only indication that anyone had done anything at all to her was the existence of a splint that had been taped over her broken nose to re-set it. 
More worryingly, she looked almost haunted. Her eyes were wide, with a thousand yard stare, and she was mumbling something to herself over and over again. 
“they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me”
Henry wanted to ask her what was wrong, but before he could, a shout arose from deeper into the yard. The shunter had split a switch with some wagons and was now trapped in a dead-end siding. Men began rushing out with tools to re-rail the cars, but it was obvious that it would take some time. The yard master, seeing this incident, didn’t go over to the shunter, but instead made a beeline for Henry, his crew trailing behind. 
“If he’s done for, then we need someone to organize this mess!” The man called, clearly not giving Henry a choice in the matter. “And you’re it!”
---
After 35 minutes of careful shunting, Henry was on his final shunting move before he could enter the sheds and rest, while the men seemed to be turning the corner on freeing the 03.
“Right, then there’s this Peak!” Called the yardmaster, who was riding on Henry’s footplate with a sheet of train orders in his hand. “It’s the 0Z59 for tonight, just put it somewhere out of the way.”
He scanned the yard. “Track 33 looks clear. let’s leave it there and be done.”
“Zero-Zed?” Henry asked. “You’re not going to move her, are you?” A zero headcode was intended for light engine moves, while a Z prefix meant that the train was to be handled specially by the dispatcher. The 46 was battered enough to require special treatment, but her unrepaired condition meant that she should not be moving under her own power. 
“Nah, they’re gonna send an engine for ‘er later,” The yardmaster replied. “She’s going right to Derby.”
Henry sighed as he buffered up to the still-catatonic diesel. Sometimes life was easier if you didn’t ask questions. 
“they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me”  The diesel said, her voice thick with horror. Her eyes looked at Henry’s face but saw nothing. It was obvious that she was off in her own little nightmarish world.
Then again, Henry had never had an “easy” life.
“What are they going to do to her at Derby?” He asked slowly, afraid of the answer he’d be given. 
After flipping through his papers, the yard master gave a one word answer: “Scrap”
Henry stared morosely at the 46. She didn’t deserve this at all. 
It took only a few minutes to move the 46 to an isolated siding near the sheds. As his driver uncoupled her from him, the 46 abruptly jerked out of her trance. She looked at Henry and his driver, her eyes suddenly clear and full of understanding.
“Save me. Please.” She said quietly. “They’re going to kill me.”
Henry was struck dumb by her request. The 46 had put more emotion in one sentence than some locomotives did in their entire lives. He wasn’t the quickest of thinkers to begin with, and now he had no idea of what to even say, let alone how he could help. 
Fortunately, Sean - his driver - was much faster on the uptake. “Do you still work?” He asked her conspiratorially. 
Both engines looked down at him. “Yes.” The 46 said after a moment. “They tested my motor and it works fine but they still said I wasn’t good enough to fix and oh god I’m going to die...” She trailed off in horror. 
Sean turned an interesting shade of pale as he set the diesel’s handbrake. “We’ll do something. Just you wait.” 
With that, he clambered back into Henry’s cab and set off for the sheds. 
“We have to do something and I have no idea how we’re going to do it.” He said as soon as they were out of earshot of the diesel. 
So concerned was Henry that he barely noticed Bear sitting in the shed as he pulled in. 
“Is everything all right?” Bear asked as he saw the look on Henry’s face.
“They’re going to kill that 46.” Henry said without prompting. “She’s barely damaged and they’re going to take her to Derby and cut her up.”
“Right.” said Bear, looking like he just took a sack of bricks to the face. “Let’s figure out how we’re going to fix that.”
-------------
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The harried yardmaster burst into the sheds. “Alright, up you get! The Hymek’s failed and we need you to drag his sorry carcass to the works!” 
Henry, who had been pretending to be sleeping, set off at once.
Entering the yard proper, he found Bear at the head end of a train of cement tankers.
"Ah! Henry!" Bear called out in the least convincing voice anyone had ever heard. "As you can see, my complicated and unreliable gearbox has failed, rendering me immobile. Can you please pull me to the works?"
"Of course Bear!" Henry said in the same way that one would discuss the weather. "I will tow you to the works so they can fix your complicated and unreliable gearbox!"
The yardmaster watched in confusion as Henry backed down onto Bear's train. It was obvious that they were planning something, but what? This was about on par for a steam engine's level of deception, but diesels were usually craftier than this.
After a few minutes, Henry set off - or rather, he didn’t.
As he set off, his wheels slipped suddenly, his driver immediately closed the regulator, and both engines disappeared into a cloud of steam as Henry wheeshed in faux pain.
"Oh dear! He called from within the cloud. "I seem to have suffered a mechanical malfunction of some kind! Whatever will I do?"
"Who gives a toss about you!" Wailed the Class 03. "What about my work? You just blocked off half the yard!"
It was true - Bear had failed just before the switch to the main line, and when Henry had backed down onto him, he had completely covered the points. Now that he had failed as well, a large portion of the yard was inaccessible.
"I am terribly sorry." Henry didn't sound like he meant it. "Another engine will have to move us, as we cannot possibly move ourselves."
To his credit, the Class 03 tried, but with Henry and Bear's combined weight (and Henry holding the brakes on when nobody was looking), his little wheels just slipped on the tracks. "Super Rescue my buffers!" He scowled as the yard master started pulling his hair out. The yard was in a worse state than before, and there were no other engines that could reach the failed train.
Unless...
"Does that 46 work? The man yelled at his underlings, in the process missing the elated looks that flashed across Henry and Bear's faces.
"I think so!" Said one of the men. "They drove it here last night."
"Right!" He said with no small amount of relief. "Get that thing going - it'll be Crovan's problem and they can deal with it."
It took a few minutes for a crew to be found and for the 46 to be started, but soon enough she was being backed down onto the increasingly long train.
Henry and his crew watched with anticipation. Instead of damping his fire, Tim the fireman had been shoveling more and more coal into Henry’s firebox, while Sean had been nonchalantly walking around both engines and putting large amounts of sand under each driving wheel. As 46 040 was backed down onto the train, he gave a signal to Bear and his crew before climbing back into Henry’s cab.
The yard crew quickly coupled 040 to Henry, and waved to the signalman, who lined the points and dropped the signal arm.
The arm dropped. Henry and Bear's eyes followed it as it fell into the 'clear' position.
"Now!" Henry bellowed, and Bedlam ensued.
Sean hauled back on Henry’s whistle cord while shoving the throttle into the wide open position, sending sparks into the air as Henry’s wheels spun on the rails for a moment.
At Henry’s whistle, Bear's driver shoved the diesel's throttle to its furthest stop.
Black smoke belched out of both engines as they surged ahead. Henry slammed into the back of 040, shoving her along as his wheels found purchase on the sand covered rails.
Bear, his engine roaring, lurched ahead as he followed Henry, taking the tankers with him. The cement wagons yelled as the slack in their couplings was let out all at once, banging against each other as they were yanked into motion. A ripple of shock whipped all the way down the train, and the coupling in the last tanker was almost ripped out of its buffer beam from the violent departure.
040's crew were shoved forward in their seats by the sudden impact. Her driver had the throttle lever in his hand, and as he flew forward against the control column, he inadvertently shoved her throttle ahead to its furthest stop. The diesel shrieked in surprise as her motor revved to full power and she surged ahead with the rest of the train. 040 was a powerful express diesel, and she quickly began to pull the rest of the train along behind her as her engine reached its highest power setting.
"Go go go!" Henry yelled as the train accelerated away.
The yardmaster and the Class 03 watched in shock as the train thundered out of the yard. In just moments, it had cleared the yard boundary, and in just a few moments more, the last cement tanker was rattling over the lift bridge and onto Sudrian metals.
"What was that?!" The man said as Henry's triumphant whistle faded into the distance.
"More Sodor shite, I'd imagine." Said the little diesel as he rolled back into the yard - as much as he wanted to, he didn’t have time to speculate on what went on in the smokeboxes of those nutcases. "They're always up to some bollocks or another."
-----------
Henry and Bear yelled in triumph as they raced though Vicarstown and into Sodor proper.
"We did it!" Bear shouted.
"We did!" Henry chimed in. "You see that, 46?" He called up to 040. "That’s Sodor! You're safe!"
040 was astonished to the point of tears. "Thank you!" She said, her voice choked with emotion.
--------
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Crovan’s Gate
Charles Hatt stared at the trio of unapologetic engines in front of him, unsure of whether he should be proud or upset. 
“If I told you three that you damaged several of those cement tankers, the yard switches in Barrow, and exceeded the legal speed limit for a train of that configuration, would you be sorry in the slightest?” 
“No sir / I’d do it again / Not at all” came the responses from Henry, Bear, and 040.
The Fat Controller hung his head in his hands. They didn’t even have the good graces to look sorry. The Peak was beaming from buffer to buffer, Bear looked sheepish but unconcerned, and Henry looked positively defiant. 
“And you did this...?” He trailed off.
“Because otherwise they were going to kill her.” Henry said with a surprising undercurrent of steel to his voice. 
“Yes. That...” Charles said again. “They truly told you that you were to be cut up?” He asked 040, slowly. 
“Yes sir.”
“They did sir. There were train orders for it.” Bear said quickly. “She was supposed to be the 0Z59.”
“I see...” He turned to the 46 directly. “Who told you this?”
“Mister Stevens. He came down from the Midlands region to inspect me.”
“I see...” Charles mulled this over. He was vaguely aware of the nasty rumours surrounding the supposed railwaymen that the Midland Region was now employing, and this 'Mister Stevens' seemed like he fit the bill perfectly. “And you two did this... to help out your fellow engine?”
“Yes sir” Henry and Bear said in unison. 
One hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 
On one hand, these two had just damaged a significant amount of railway property and stolen an engine from a different region.
On the other... he did have a motive power shortage, and 46 040 was a class 4 - exactly what he needed. 
And she clearly wasn’t needed by her region any more. 
And stealing engines from the scrap heap was practically a Sodor tradition by now. 
And he had acquired Bear in an almost equally brazen manner. 
Sir Charles Topham Hatt II was many things, but a hypocrite was not one of them. “I must make a phone call. Talk amongst yourselves.”
The engines watched as he retreated to the foreman’s office. The phone was mounted on the outer wall, and his end of the conversation was very audible. 
“This is Hatt, get me the London Midland Region please.”
“Yes, can you please inform Director Macready that Charles Hatt needs to speak with him regar- oh hello Lachlan.”
“Why yes, this is about 46 040.”
“I will have you know that we did not ‘brazenly make off with your property.’”
“To begin with, she was needed because the engines pulling the train ha- yes I understand that they didn’t actually fail, but-”
“Now there’s no need for that tone of voice-”
“Lachlan - Lachlan - Damnit Lachlan! That engine has only minor damage to it! You -”
“You clearly do not  need it if - Spares? Lachlan, you just said that they were ‘going to the chop soon enough’, what could you possibly need spares for?”
“Now that’s just inappropriate.”
Whatever was said next was obviously deeply impolite, as the Fat Controller lost all patience with the Director of the Midland Region. “Now you listen here you limp-wristed disgrace of a Scotsman. That locomotive is mine now and will be forever more,  you understand? If you ever try to come down from the ivory tower that has lodged itself in your rear end and do something about it, I will personally beat you to death with an Adze! Am I understood!”
After a brief silence, he spoke again. “I expect the transfer to be sent over at once. If they aren’t, I will forge your signature myself and I won’t stop with just those papers. Goodbye Lachlan.”
With that he hung up the phone and turned around to face the trio, who could barely contain themselves, and most of the works’ staff, who were surprised to see their controller use such harsh language. 
“Don’t just stand there!” He said after a long moment. “Get to work! We have a new engine to repair!” 
The noise from the locomotives was deafening. 
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