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hopefulvittori · 5 months

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Kindled emotions

Pinocchio (Lies of P) x OC/Reader

Angst/Fluff

So this is my very first fanfiction... To be honest, I was kinda afraid to post it at first, but every starts are always the hardest. Sorry about my english in advance, I'm not a native speaker. I only created this blog as a placeholder because AO3 has a pretty long inv queue nowadays. As soon as I have an account, I'll post my upcoming fics here and there. :)

As his journey goes on, the puppet of Geppetto starts to experience fear and doubts about his circumstances. Luckily, a certain helpful falcon helps to take that despair away.

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Pain wasn't foreign for the puppet of Geppetto. At least not anymore. He noticed a few changes ever since he started his journey. It hurt him when the frenzied puppets hit him with a candle holder or a shovel. Or when the monster-turned infectees latched themselves onto him.

Yet, this kind of pain was different. It came from his chest area. It was suffocating.

Ever since he dealt with the Black Rabbit Brotherhood and saw that painting, he's been thinking a lot. Every time he was close to shutting down, the woman in blue always stayed time's hand from claiming him. And despite his struggles, he always saw his father - his creator - watching that portrait with melancholic fondness. Oh, how he wished that his only family would've looked at him with similar tenderness...

He started to feel fear. Fear from the uncertainties of his time-manipulating circumstances. What if the next of his perilous endeavours will be the last? What would his father think of him then? Will he be sad? Disappointed, maybe both? Questions, yet no answers.

"Are you okay, pal? You've been spacing out a lot lately." Gemini asked him with a worried tone. His green light flickered in the dark streets of Rose Isabelle.

It was all true. He has been extra cautious when it comes to his stalking. Krat was certainly a dangerous place to live by, especially with these frenzying puppets and monsters around. Despite that, although slightly, his non-legion hand was shaking. He couldn't feel the sword in his hand the way he held it before. His cerulean gaze was glued to the ground.

He felt cold...

"H-hey! Watch where you're going or else we'll be--!" Even though the puppet guide in the lamp tried to warn him, the encounter was inevitable. A large number of frenzied puppets fell from a storeyed house. Screaming like wild animals, they were lunging themselves towards the puppet of Geppetto. He reacted as quickly as he could and turned his back on his desired destination. Although he avoided getting clobbered by the puppets, he couldn't stop one of them latching itself onto his leg. Trashing against his captor, the boy managed to get himself free and cut it down with a single powerful strike. Then he ran away with the feeling of hopelessness and confusion.

He didn't even notice that lack of the lantern's green glimmer. The hostile puppet managed to grab Gemini and drop it to the ground. It couldn't see where the puppet boy ran off to nor warn its partner in crime as the impact managed to turn it off.

───── ⋆ ─────

The Falcon felt quite tired after spending the night on the streets of Krat, getting rid of the maddened puppets. With each strike, her indigo dress was painted with oil. She felt the taste of iron in her mouth. It sickened her.

Separating her lance into two blades, she finished her work on the last two or three automatons. Electric sparks lightened the darkness as her enemies lifelessly fell into the cold stones. She sighed in relief while sheathed her swords. She saw no other puppets on the streets. None, except one. The Falcon noticed a familiar lanter lying on the ground. Its side was kinda battered.

"Cricky? What happened?" She asked as she picked up the lantern. No response. The lack of his peculiar green light worried her. Then she suddenly remembered how its owner turned it on and off. She looked for a button on its side. With a "click" and its signature green spark, the lantern turned on.

"T-t-tori?" Though her distorted voice surprised the stalker, she was more annoyed about calling her that silly nickname.

"What happened to you?" She asked.

"I-i don't know. There were... so many puppets and... and..." He said with fearful hesitation.

The Falcon looked around, searching for the signs of Gemini's owner. Did the puppets get him? He was pretty much inseparable from his lantern. Something bad must've happened.

"Where is Speckles?" She asked slowly.

"I'm... n-not sure. One of the puppets grabbed me a-and... and..." Even though it felt kinda impossible, Gemini sounded like it was in despair. Its entire purpose was to guide its owner. Without him, no wonder it sounded so lost.

The Falcon grabbed the lantern and strapped it on her belt. Her hand rested on its form as some comfort of sorts. She didn't say anything but started her search for the puppet of Geppetto. She knew his nature. He was pretty much an Ergo-harvesting automaton. She always felt the sweet scent of life on him. It was both of her blessing and curse to being attuned to those souls, feeling their desires as her own. She followed that odor of the puppet's Ergo. She always found his scent quite nostalgic. Like settling around a fireplace after getting away from the cold rain or snow. It was warm.

She stalked around Rose Isabelle streets for almost an hour. Luckily, she felt it. The scent of Ergo got a lot stronger inside of an abandoned storeyed house. She was careful though. Her steps were light as a feather when she started searching through the home. There she heard it: a quiet but hasty heaving. It came from a bedroom. The Falcon doubled her steps, carefully opening the door. Then she slightly gasped at the sight that awaited her.

The puppet of Geppetto sat before a bed. His frozen expression was lightened in the fireplace's gentle gleam. It was subtle, but his eyes were staring forward in shock. Lips parted and gasped for air.

It seemed that he was searching for some sort of solace. To remind himself of the comfort of his home. Yet despite his endeavors, he clearly failed to calm his nerves.

"Speckles? What are you doing here?" The Falcon asked gently. She hoped for a response, yet the boy couldn't even look at her. The woman got closer and crouched before him. Even like that, the puppet failed to notice her presence.

Judging by his body language, he had a panic attack. The stalker didn't know that this was even possible. He was a puppet after all. Yet even though she had questions, she needed to wait for answers.

"P?" The woman tried to call out for the boy once again. Only this time, her hand found its way to the puppet's human one. To the Falcon's surprise, it felt wet. His hand was drenched in sweat. She placed her other hand on his freckled cheek, forcing him to look at her. Despite tilting his head towards the woman, his eyes were unfocusing.

"It's alright, P. It will pass." She said gently, stroking his cheek. "I'll stay with you until this is over."

Then she felt it. His human hand gently squeezed hers. He showed her appreciation in a way he could in this situation. She warmly smiled and sat beside him. She petted his fluffy chestnut brown hair while holding his hand.

"Try to control your breathing. It will help you calm down." She continued on as she showed it to him. "Take a big breath... keep it in for a bit... then breathe out."

She kept doing it until the puppet of Geppetto tried to do something similar. Even though he couldn't look at her, he tried to do his best to calm his breathing. His shoulders rose and fell in a more rhythmic manner.

"That's it, P. You're getting better at this. You're going to be alright." The Falcon said in an encouraging way.

His chest heaved less and his eyes became more focused. He needed a few minutes before he could finally look at her. He tilted his head a bit slightly to the right, eyebrows raised in a questioning manner.

The Falcon smiled at him, unstrapping Gemini from her belt in the meanwhile. The boy was surprised to see his puppet guide in the hands of the stalker woman.

"Some puppet must've snatched it. I found it after you hid here." She explained quietly, handing over the small puppet to its owner. The boy gave her a small smile as his appreciation.

"What happened?" As she asked, his simper disappeared. He tried to avoid her stare, but the Falcon searched his gaze curiously.

"I..." His lips were parting slowly, but no more words came out. She knew now: these feelings were beyond his comprehension. He wasn't ready yet.

The Falcon shifted and sat before the puppet boy. She grabbed his automaton arm and gently squeezed both of his hands.

"I see now. You can't tell me, can you?" She asked quietly.

The boy nodded curtly.

"...Because it's something you can't exactly explain." She continued.

He blinked a bit before nodding again. The woman averted her gaze and looked at the fireplace.

"The flames partake in such warmth. To wash away the pain."

The puppet raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Oh, just a phrase someone I knew used a lot..." She said with a tint of melancholy. The Falcon shook her head. "Anyway... if you have any doubts, you don't need to be afraid. I know how these new feelings and doubts can burden one's heart. But..." She gave him an encouraging look. "When you're ready to tell me about them... you know where you can find me. You can always partake in this warmth."

This woman - this girl - intrigued him to no end. Sometimes she was witty, yet showed kindness to others. Even strangers. She was willing to sit with him, helping to understand these new emotions without asking anything in return. His doubts were washed away in those sea of flames she spoke of. As he held onto her hands, clutching them like small, fragile things, he felt... safe. Like a warm blanket, this new feeling covered his entire being.

He felt warmth...

Without hesitation, he leant towards the Falcon and gently pressed his forehead to hers. Her breath hitched as her entire body froze. His human hand shifted to stroke her long ashen brown hair. His eyes were closed as he tried to express the gratitude he had felt. Then a small smile appeared on his lips as he felt her being relaxed in his grasp. Her hand found its way to his arm as a way of support. This situation was also new to the stalker. Her kindness was appreciated. Her words didn't fall on deaf ears.

It wasn't in vain.

Realizing this, she gave out a sigh of bliss. The Falcon felt a bit light-headed from the content she had felt... or maybe from the tiredness. Her head slowly slipped from the boy's forehead onto his left shoulder. He gave her a mild puzzled look as his arms encircled around her form. Each time she sighed, her shoulders were rising. The puppet of Geppetto could've sworn he heard her snoring. He felt his gears moving a bit faster as he looked at her peaceful form. The Falcon completely tired herself out, yet she found the strength to help him. He carefully scooped her up and laid her down onto the bed. He watched her serene face as a content smile appeared on her lips.

"Geez, she is completely tired herself out. Just to look out for you." It was a genuine surprise how long Gemini has been quiet. Its voice was kinda raspy from the damage it sustained, but it survived worse situations than this. The boy was fully convinced that it was fine when the puppet guide suggested to draw a mustache and a monocle on her face. With a deadpan face, he reached for his lantern.

"Imagine her reaction, that would be price... Wait wait! I was kidd--" With a loud "click", Gemini was turned off. The puppet of Geppetto quietly sighed as he sat down next to Falcon's resting form.

Morning wasn't coming any time soon. He could wait until down to make sure she gets some rest. As he watched her defenseless form, his hand reached for hers. He gave her a last squeeze before standing up and reaching for the door.

"Sweet dreams."

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In the original storybook, the Falcon was a minor character. It was the Blue Fairy's helper who rescued Pinocchio from hanging. I thought it would be a neat idea to put P in a similar but symbolic situation. He was literally suffocating from his fears and doubts until the Falcon tried to make those feelings go away. :) Btw my OC just loves giving nicknames yet she hates being called Tori (her real name is Vittori, her nickname means "bird" in japanese).

Once again, sorry for any grammatical errors. I hope you enjoyed this story filled with angst and fluff!

#lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p fanfic #lies of p x oc #p x reader #pinocchio x reader #pinocchio x oc

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livelydiver · 1 year

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batch of fic recs

Hi all! Have been away from this blog for a minute (auto-posting fanart from the enormous queue) - still catching up on all the incredible fic from the past few months, but wanted to throw out some recommendations for a few that have lately knocked my socks off (Ed/Stede unless otherwise specified). So, if you're in the mood for...

... A tender, heartwarming one-shot: "Fluff" by offsammich (8K, T) -- Ed is a (successful but depressed) pet portrait photographer, and Stede is a goofy dog-owner and surprise Instagram celebrity. One of the sweetest, most feel-good stories I've read in ages.

... Genre-bending, love-in-every-universe vibes: "Telescope" by Jimsnose (20K, E) -- A hurt Ed and repentant Stede look at their love stories in other timelines with the help of a magic telescope. Achingly gorgeous and unpredictable.

... Clever, charming modern AU Steddyhands: "it's nothing written in the sky" by @thesoulundone (22K, E), sequel to the exquisite "no more empty self-possession" (76K, E) -- love some Stizzy-heavy Steddyhands, and nobody does it better (for my money one of the best writers in the fandom, which is seriously saying something). This time Ed and Izzy join the Bonnet-Allamby gang for the winter holidays, and it's funny and sexy and sweet in turn.

... Soulmates on a high-stakes, edge-of-your-seat adventure: "the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce" by veeagainst (25K, E) -- Ed is a time traveler and Stede runs an underground nightclub in 1930s Berlin. Heart-melting romance meets fast-paced drama, a serious pleasure to read.

... Actor RPF: "always 11pm somewhere" by afterism -- A warm and funny series of increasingly flirtatious phone calls between the leads. Hot and playful and hits all the right notes in stride.

... Something light and funny to brighten your day: "Trade Descriptions Act" by ElapsedSpiral (5K, T) -- OK, not exactly a new fic, but new to me and I can't get enough of it. Ed steals Stede's identity, proceeds to fall for a cute blonde stranger without realizing who he is - "idiots in love" in the most charming way.

Enjoy!!! 🌈🏴‍☠️

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tropigar · 6 months

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Hey millie! Do you have any advice or tips on someone who has no idea where to even begin getting commissions? I love seeing all your stream art on my dash n thought you might have some ideas

Hi! I have a few pointers. And thank you, that is very kind :)

You'll need a payment processor. Paypal is pretty defacto in the art community. I always send invoices and it helps the transaction go smoother and gives you some control over the details and is better for recordkeeping purposes. You'll also need a platform to advertise your commissions on. Ideally this is just the same place you post your art and you have established yourself with a decent amount of art and some time on the platform to build an audience. There are artist-for-hire forums and the like where commissioners can seek out artists but I find the ratio of artists to commissioners tends to be astronomical so getting commissions on there can be difficult (I've never used them for that reason, if anyone has and wants to chime in it'd be appreciated!)

You'll need some way to advertise your commissions and organize the information. I use trello, I love that I can have my prices, TOS, examples, queue and finished pieces all in one spot. When you advertise your commissions an image that leads potential customers to your information helps. Some people make an image sheet with their examples and prices and TOS all included but honestly I've found that's more work than it's worth. The less digging customers have to do to find your commissions, the better.

You'll need to know what sort of commissions you want to offer. I see a lot of artists newer to offering commissions offer options for sketched, lined, colored, and shaded pieces that are also split by headshot, half-body, and full-body, so that's already 12 potential commission options, and then throw on options for backgrounds and props and such... less is more. Excessive options can be overwhelming and generally people will gravitate to one end (sketches if they're low on funds) or the other (fully rendered if they really like your work and have the cash). I try to keep it simple, I had my sketch headshots at $10 and lined fullbodies at $50-$70. Finding a "niche" is great! I did psychedelic portrait commissions and that was my best selling commission option for awhile.

As far as pricing goes that is a personal decision with a lot of variables. With digital art material costs are hardly a consideration but time spent making the piece, your skill level, and demand all are. I always start with an estimation of how long it takes me to complete a piece and go from there, I start at $20 an hour because that's how much I need at a full-time job to get by. If I think something will take me about 3 hours that's a $60 commission. Sometimes that does bite me in the butt and I end up spending something like... 16 hours on what I estimated would take me 8. Personally I always just eat the difference because I care more about providing a good experience for my commissioners than getting every penny :P I also charge up-front so it would feel unprofessional to go back and ask for more. Your commission prices should really be more of a rough estimate than a guaranteed quote, subjects can vary greatly in complexity, you don't want to charge the same $50 for a fullbody if some characters can be drawn in 2 hours and others take 6. Personal advice... if you are struggling to sell your art for say at minimum $10 an hour, it is either your skill level or your marketing / visibility. If it's the former, I really recommend stepping away from taking commissions for the time and spending a couple months or so working on developing your art skills. You will thank yourself later!

It's also important to know where your strengths and weaknesses lie. If you struggle with drawing backgrounds it's better to find that out in practice rather than on a commission while you're suffering through trying to figure out how to make rocks look like rocks or incorporate lighting and that sort of thing not that I would know what that's like, haha no wayyy.

You'll need a terms of service and there's a lot of considerations that go into that:

will draw / won't draw (can you draw xyz species? backgrounds? technology? etc)

turnaround time, queues (how long will it take to finish, a week or two months at most? do you finish commissions in a certain order?)

slot limits (how many outstanding commissions will you take at a time? it's important not to bite off more than you can chew)

payment options (how will they send you the money? also, when? up front, 50 now, 50 later?)

refunds (how will you refund if you can't complete a commission? do you offer refunds if requested by the buyer and at what time? if so, are they partial refunds determined by progress completion?)

work in progress images and revisions (do you offer WIPs? at what stages? how many revisions will you make? do you charge for additional revisions?)

usage rights (what will you do with completed commissions? just use as portfolio pieces? what can the buyer do with commissions? can they draw over them, crop and color filter, use as icons, print off, use commercially? if commercial applications is a considerations you need additional terms on that)

contact methods (email, discord, the same platform as posted, etc. how often will you reach out to them?)

anything else you can think of that would be relevant.

Having a public queue is good so people can see how much work you've done on their commission and/or where in line they are.

When working with commissioners it's important to be clear on what they're looking for. Have a character reference if applicable, know a bit about their personality and maybe how they want them depicted. Also things like time frames and resolution might be important.

And social skills is an obvious one. Be corteous and all that. Not much advice I can offer in that area. Be transparent, don't be rude, and you'll probably be fine lol. Overtime, you get practice with some less obvious things like commissioner personality types and vision and are better able to tailor your approach to what works best for the client. Some people just want to see their character in your style, others have a specific vision in mind, that sort of thing.

There are a few other things I can think of like, I really recommend you give yourself a month minimum turnaround time as breathing room for commissions (and if you finish it faster, hooray!), also I generally recommend charging 100% upfront (or something like 50/50 on larger commissions), I could go off on a few different things but that's more personal advice and opinions and this is getting to be a long post already :)

Also, take a look at a few different artists that offer commissions and what their process looks like and go from there!

If you have any more questions don't hesitate to ask and I'd be happy to help ^^

#art advice #asks #other

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grumpygreenwitch · 1 month

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The Witches and Wizards Job 23-24-25

Advance warning, the wizard cuts a little bit loose here. Tagged for some fantasy violence.

I'm aware the links to the back chapters are borked up, but it's nearly midnight right now and I just finished uploading everything to the queue. I'll try to fix them between Thursday and Friday.

AO3 Link

Buy me a Ko-fi?

Remember: Tumblr has no algorithm. Reblogs give me life.

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TWENTY THREE

I think no one expected to get together that night and count nothing but wins. But no one was hurt and our knowledge of the situation had grown by leaps and bounds - at least, that was what Ford claimed.

"I'm not happy that you all have Dresden working on the side," he told the room, throwing me a quick look.

I put a hand up; I really didn't mind. I was still trying to digest the truth both Eliot and Hardison had offered me. I'd done my job, and I'd done it well, and with their help I'd done it so quick I was still trying to get used to the fact that both cases were done, had been done nearly as soon as they'd been picked up. But the technology Hardison had used just wasn't something I could ever, would ever, have permanent access to. On the other hand, my expertise, my knowledge, everything I knew about magic and the creatures of that world, was information to be found in no database, no internet search. It was maddening.

"But it's done, so we move on to the auction. Odds are both our targets, as well as the mark, are going to be there: the lady, the portrait and the man in black."

The last bit seemed to startle the night's guest, who'd been lounging sedately on a brand-new couch near mine while nursing a vodka neat. Ford had introduced him as the client. He'd introduced himself as Vanya Fedorov. His accent had introduced him as part of the Russian mafia. Mouse had lifted his head from the moment the man had walked into the loft, and he'd never once looked away. Between him and my dog, I was getting more than a little nervous.

"Nate, there's a problem with the auction," Hardison pointed out as he rejoined us around the coffee table with its sharpie'd circle and anti-tracking ward, as well as a few other newly added protections. He'd left his phone behind by the row of desks after sorting out the delivery of the selkie skins, and he gestured at me.

"Most of the people attending aren't human," I informed the room.

Fedorov's drink paused on the way to his mouth. "My uncle is a hard man," he said levelly. "But his first loyalty is to our business. He knows I am good for it. He would not betray me."

"I don't think he has," Sophie replied. "The bird-woman, the -"

"Alkonost," he supplied.

"She wasn't there to harm you. She was there to protect you."

I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this gorgeous woman had decided, on the fly, to bluff one of the most powerful creatures of Russian lore, and she'd stuck the landing. God but I could only hope Ford knew how lucky he was.

"We were immune thanks to Harry," Sophie pointed out, "but you weren't affected at all. She did come looking for you, but to keep you safe."

"Safe from what?" he demanded restlessly.

"The man in black?" Eliot suggested.

"He doesn't want Fedorov hurt." Ford said mildly. I was beginning to recognize that tone as a warning signal. "He very nearly derailed one plan already for you," he told the Russian.

"For me?"

"The museum!" Parker exclaimed in sudden realization.

Nate nodded, then looked at Fedorov. "You made plans to go visit the Sokolov collection. Made them in advance. I had a look at your electronic ledger. You did have plans - for the day after, the last day of the exhibition."

"I did," the Russian admitted readily.

"You changed those plans when someone told you we were there."

Fedorov grinned ruefully. "I thought to press my case and enjoy Sokolov's work. Two birds with one stone. It seemed efficient at the time."

Nate nodded thoughtfully. "See, I was wondering about that. Because our presence there wasn't really important enough to merit derailing anyone's plans. It was you. When he came up to the room, it was to make sure you were there and he had to cancel the plan. You weren't supposed to be there that day."

"But then he did come up, and saw Grandmother," Sophie pointed out. "And getting her was worth more than protecting you."

"Mm," Nate nodded. "It was a rush job; the sort of rush job that happens when someone first says 'go', then 'stop', then 'go' again, and tempers are getting frayed, the timeline is off, everything just this much out of whack…" He waved a hand at us all. "You know the sort."

I did know the sort; I couldn't help but be amused that, from the look on their faces, so did the rest of the Leverage team.

"Explains why the guy was still there fiddling with the system when I got there," Eliot muttered. "He was waiting to put the Witchwell back in place. That's why the nitrogen tank was attached, but still closed."

"How do you know all this?" Fedorov demanded.

"The cameras," Ford replied. "Our… consultant pointed out that it's only the presence of beings like the man in black that blows up technology, and Hardison has created a number of failsafes so we can tell when a screen is about to fail. Turns out you can track someone by their absence nearly as much as by their presence."

The Russian took all of this in slowly, carefully, and finally frowned minutely. "I don't think I care for the Blackbird's interest in me. Or my family. Or my business."

Ford said nothing, but I could see in his face that he was holding back. I risked a glance at the other deadly intelligence in the room. Sophie was looking at the mastermind very closely. She caught my eyes and shook her head tinily.

I said nothing. I had just noticed that, behind Sophie, Parker was frowning, staring at nothing. Apparently Ford was contagious.

"I think your uncle's loyalties are a matter between you and him. For what it's worth, I believe he honestly thinks meeting with these people will help you take over from your father."

"By binding the family to these creatures." Fedorov scoffed. "What do they know of the family business?"

I didn't need to see the look Ford shot me to recognize a cue when I heard one. I picked up the printed photographs next to me on the couch and started handing them out one by one. "The lovely lady in white? Fey. Specializes in erasing evidence. The man next to her in red? Also fey. Specializes in erasing memories." Another picture. "Fat toad-looking man? He's actually a toad. His people love toxic waste. If someone gets a contract with them, they'll never see another fine for dumping again. The gorgeous thing next to him might be the deadliest we've identified so far. She's from Bangkok. Jade Court. Vampire. Human trafficking. This one? I'm not sure, but gosh, things sure do seem to catch on fire whenever he's around, mostly out at sea. Mostly when they're well-insured."

Between Hardison and me, while the 3D printer churned away and I stuck mirror-masks to everything it was spitting out, we'd sifted through enough information to identify thirteen of the twenty four people who we knew were going to the auction. It had been risky, using Koschei's invite to create a resonance spell that would let me find where the other invites were, but God it had paid off so well. We'd done weeks, maybe months of footwork in one long afternoon and half an evening.

It was enough to impress Fedorov - and to worry him. "No. I will not deal with these creatures. They are no better than the Blackbird, and if he's involved then each of them is a trap."

"I'm not telling you this to impress you," I corrected him. "I'm telling you to warn you. They might wanna make it look like you have no choice but to agree with whatever they say. You need to be prepared."

Fedorov took the stack of printouts and stared sightlessly at them. He looked oddly familiar at that moment, as if a touch of deja vu had come at me out of nowhere; he looked like something out of antiquity, like one of the paintings I'd seen in Hardison's screens while he studied Sokolov's work. "Can they die?" he asked.

Ooops, nope, we were back in mafia mentality. "Depends what you shoot them with. And in some cases, where."

"Then I believe you and I should speak, wizard." He shook his head and gestured impatiently. "He just stole the damn portrait. Why is he turning around and selling it already?"

"Because after the auction he won't need it anymore. Or at least that's what he thought, until he met Parker and she stole his key, and all of those." He waved a hand idly at the table's worth of knick-knacks. "So between now and the end of the auction he has to get that key back. You," Nate told Fedorov, "are going to trade it for the portrait. Make sure to tell them that when you RSVP."

"You are sending me into a den of monsters alone, Ford," Fedorov gritted out. "If you want me dead have the decency of doing it yourself."

"Not alone, no. You're bringing Sophie with you. If Dresden can get the tracker off of the other invitation we have, we'll even send Eliot in with you. And we will all be nearby to provide support. We don't want another 'situation', Fedorov, no one wants that."

Fedorov eyed Eliot, who shrugged calmly. He eyed Sophie, who smiled at him. "No offense," he told Eliot, "but I will feel safer with her."

Eliot beamed at the man. "None taken."

I had to agree with both of them, honestly.

"What about Grandmother?"

"She'll be there," Ford assured him. It was the only part of the plan I didn't like, because Ford had no explanation, no reason as to why he believed Baba Yaga would show up at the auction when Koschei was sure to be there. Last I'd checked, and from all Bob had taught me, those two were not on speaking terms, and got along about as well as fire and gasoline.

Fedorov looked thoughtful. "Wizard."

Oh, I did not like where this was going. "Uh."

"Since you are taking jobs on the side, will you take one more?"

"Uh." I looked at Ford, but he said nothing. He was giving me a keen, level look. I liked that even less. "That depends on the job."

Fedorov grinned at me. "He has tried too many times to harm Grandmother. Perhaps to kill her outright. I don't know if this is possible, if he can do this thing. I know he's trying, and I do not like it. I will pay whatever you ask, wizard. If you're there and do your best to protect her."

I felt as if the silence in the room were crushing me. "You want me to protect Baba Yaga."

"You are what I have."

"This is Baba Yaga. Grandmother Winter. Close to a living god as it gets. Not to mention I've already met the Blackbird. He won both times, in case you weren't listening."

"Did he? You walked away and he did not follow. Twice. The way I see it, you won the only victory that matters."

I wanted to scream. To walk away. I would have laughed in Fedorov's face but the truth was, I was scared. He was asking me to stand between what I saw as an unstoppable force and an immovable object. However, and I hated that he was right, but he uh. He was right. I'd stood up to Koschei twice, and I'd walked away both times. Either the man sucked at killing people, and I knew that wasn't true, or I was doing something right. I just didn't know what.

I felt as trapped as Fedorov did, but I could also see his reasoning. Koschei was an asshole. An unparalleled one. No one disagreed on that. But Baba Yaga, even if she was mercurial, alien, inhuman, still cared about the land and the people in a way her pupil didn't. If there was a line on the sand, I knew which side I was on. "I'll do what I can," I couldn't make the words come out civil, but at least I could make them come out.

Fedorov nodded at me. "In that case," he grinned minutely, leaned forward and picked up one of the chicken bones and the little carved wooden cup from among the many knick-knacks on the table and dropped the one inside the other. The bone let out a little rattle. "Let me tell you a fairy tale about Koschei and Grandmother."

TWENTY FOUR

The leshy came back that night, and they brought friends once again.

I was dead asleep in spite of every thought and worry wrecking chaos in my mind. I was worried, and I was pretty sure I had a right to be. We were about to throw a bluff in the face of some of the deadliest, smartest monsters ever to come out of the Nevernever, Leverage also wanted to steal from them at the same time. There was just so much going on that I'd given up trying to keep track of it all, and resigned myself to doing my part of it and never figuring out what, other that stealing, these people did.

Mouse's low growl woke me up as if someone had punched me. He'd been asleep at the foot of the bed, which was big enough for five of me or two of him, and when he stood up I could see his ruff standing up on end, outlined against the faint light coming in through the window. I sat up just in time to hear a muffled yowl of pain, and the creak of the door swinging open.

They'd found me. Of everything we'd picked up, all the trinkets, all the traps, I was still the easiest source of magic to find. I just hadn't known if they'd be willing to gamble that Koschei's stuff would be with me and not in a vault somewhere, or with the Leverage people.

The house had no lintel to speak of, no doorway. It was a safehouse, a fancy storage unit where I'd spent two nights. I'm sure the leshy had expected some trouble getting through the door, but I already knew they had humans in the roster, and humans could pick a lock or break a window, slip inside and invite the leshy in. There wasn't enough of a presence in the house, mine or otherwise, to kick up a passive defense out of habitation alone.

Which was why Eliot had lined every doorway and windowsill with iron nails.

Another muffled yowl and I was quietly on my feet, reaching for my shirt and my duster. There were a few traps between the leshy and what they sought, but once again I was counting mainly on them not being able to use magic to find the stuff. I drew a deep breath, stepped back from the bed, called Mouse to me, and flicked a throw blanket on the bed.

I'm not good at Veils. I know people who can hide entire stadiums worth of people, sight, sound, scent, every sense. Me, I was counting on it being dark so that when the leshy came up, as they must, it would look like I was still asleep on the bed. It didn't make sense for them to risk waking me up while they tore the place apart, which they'd likely do. Not to mention they could always ask me where everything was, and provide all sorts of incentives for me to tell them.

I managed to get my sneakers on before I heard the stairwell creak minutely. I fell back into the shadows of the closet, Mouse by my side, staff on one hand and wand on the other, and waited.

The door to my bedroom opened very slowly. The same dim, reflected streetlight glow that had shone on Mouse showed me the paw-like hand of a leshy as it stepped forward, sniffing the still air in the room. Its eyes locked onto the bed and it moved forward with a little more confidence. It cleared the door and another one came in behind it. They moved to flank the bed. A third one came in.

The moment it was clear of the door I surged forward, slammed the door shut, and pointed my staff at it. "Forzare."

It might have come out a little angry. I was getting real tired of leshy, to be fair. The blast of force threw the leshy through the window in a shower of glass and wood; it screamed as it went, the iron nails on the windowsill scraping it raw.

Mouse flew at another leshy with a snarl. Its nature betrayed it; not only was my dog very big and fairly terrifying despite his youth, leshy were creatures of the field, their nature very close to rabbits, to hares, to moles. It shrieked in immediate terror and went down, scrabbling and writhing, all the fight gone from it, wanting only to get away from its natural predator.

The last one didn't stop to think. It leapt up and kicked me in the chest. I went through the bedroom door like the old oak wasn't even there. The pain was immediate, immense, blinding. Next thing I knew I was on my knees out on the hallway, and I couldn't breathe. I'd be lucky if nothing was broken. Leshy kick like the hares they look like, and the fairy-thug's reaction had been so quick I'd had no time to summon my shield.

Mouse was barking furiously in the bedroom; I couldn't get wits or breath enough to get back on my feet, but I had just enough of them to see motion coming up the stairs. I swung my wand around and let a stream of fire blaze out. The figure in front shrilled inhumanly; behind it, someone cursed entirely too humanly.

I had to get up. I had to move. I was easy prey if I didn't. I got one leg under me just in time for one panicked leshy to come sprinting out of my bedroom, and we both went down in a tangle. It tried to bite my face, and I just barely put an arm up. Its teeth caught it, but couldn't quite punch through the duster's defenses. It didn't feel like roses, though, and someone let out a very undignified howl of pain. Couldn't have been me.

I'd lost my wand when we'd gone down, and I didn't have enough room to bring my staff to bear, so I let go of it, put my free hand on the leshy's face, and let go with all the electricity I'd collected the past day. I didn't have the breath to call it - the words aren't part of the magic as much as an exercise in focus, a visualization aid. I could throw everything around without them, but I'd been using the word to try not to get zapped myself. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

Electric fire lit up the leshy's skull from within, made its ears stand up on end; it rolled down my hand and up my arm, but I was far more interested in the fairy-thug not getting another bite in. Fortunately, it crashed down limp on top of me, smoking faintly.

I shoved it aside and groped around for my staff. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I threw my shield up instinctively.

A net crashed over it and came to rest on the gleaming half-bubble, and I was in trouble. The net had magic, unknown magic, probably meant to counter mine. I couldn't let go of the shield without getting caught in the net. I couldn't do magic without dropping the shield. The hallway was narrow, and they couldn't get to me any more than I could get to them, but that left them free to tear my house apart.

Which was apparently the going plan. The leshy I'd singed on the stairwell called out something to the human behind it, who shouted in Russian down the stairs. I heard the door to one of the rooms slam open, and a crowbar start work on the crates.

I forced myself to draw a deep breath. Mouse was still engaged with the last fairy-thug in the bedroom. My ribs were still screaming. My lungs had mostly forgotten how to work. But I needed that breath, I needed the focus of it.

At the peak of it, I dropped to a crouch, dropped the shield and called out, "Ventus!" more or less at the same time.

Have I mentioned I'm a hammer when it comes to magic?

Wind roared out, coming out of me in every direction. It threw the net for parts unknown, it sent the people on the stairwell flying back, stumbling down the steps with startled squawks and something that sounded very much like cursing. I wouldn't know, I don't speak Russian. I found my wand under my foot, lifted my staff and for good measure threw a second gout of wind down the stairwell. "Mouse!"

He came charging out of the room. I peeked in. The leshy was crawling away for the gaping hole in the wall that had been a window, both legs a ruin of greenish blood. I closed what was left of the door between it and us and began to inch my way down the stairs.

There was a hissed, angry argument going on at the bottom of the stairs, probably wondering if I was worth the trouble. Oh, I was not. So many people could've told the thugs, I'm very much not worth the trouble. I'm a burr, and at that point I was an angry burr, and to compound their misery I was an angry burr that could do magic.

Someone shouted a warning in the dark of the first floor. I threw my shield up.

Three bullets bounced off it, along with a shower of sparks. Oh, ok. Uh. I hadn't expected them to decide I was that kind of trouble. Hell's Bells. Boston had powered up my shield, but I'd apparently finally hit on the limit of what the damaged bracelet could do. If it hadn't been made to hold back more mundane threats as well as magic, I would have been very much in trouble.

I could see, vaguely, four of them gathered in what was supposed to be the living room. I was pretty sure there was at least one more crashing and wrecking one of the rooms. I saw one of them grab and yank at another, and some tiny part of me was glad to know the leshy themselves didn't want me shot, but that didn't mean one of their number, likely one of their human buddies, didn't have a gun he was entirely too willing to use. I had to finish this quick, before someone else got trigger-happy.

I dropped the shield. Mouse leapt the moment it was gone, with a snarl like a roar. I love my dog. I know my dog. At that moment I was absolutely terrified of my dog.

So were the thugs. I slammed the butt of my staff on the ground before any of them could get any ideas. "Forzare!" The shockwave sent two of them tumbling - the humans. The leshy tottered, but managed to stay upright. One of them immediately went down with a panicked screech when Mouse slammed into it.

The other twisted one hand sharply and threw something at me that glittered in the dark. I threw my shield up automatically.

The night's breath powder settled on it and began to burn.

I heard a howl, realized belatedly that it was mine; my shield-bracelet had gone instantly white-hot while it tried to defend against the very thing that was attacking it. I dropped the shield, felt the poison sink into my magic. The leshy charged me, as aware as I was that I couldn't throw magic around wildly anymore; I could very well run out of energy mid-fight.

So I swung the staff at it as hard as I could.

The impact drove it into the wall and it staggered back, dazed. I stepped into its space and punched it. Hey, it worked for Eliot. It went down on its knees with a cry.

But the two human thugs were getting up, and one was lifting his arm in a familiar fashion. I couldn't gamble, I called up my shield, gritting my teeth against the pain. The goon slammed the taser into it, electricity arcing from it over the roiling surface of the half-bubble.

I put my hand out, the one with the wire bracelet, dropped the shield and called the electricity to me. It burned down my already singed fingers, and into the bracelet, and I threw it at the other man before he could get it into his head to start shooting again. He made a sound like a broken police siren and crashed down, twitching.

I'd been keeping my eye on the group in front of me and that open bedroom door, but in the middle of the chaos I forgot that leshy are like roaches: there's always more than the ones you see. Something came at me from the kitchen and hit the back of my head. It wasn't even painful; it was just instantaneous darkness; everything shut down. My cheek hit the floor, but I didn't feel it so much as vaguely registered that my perspective on things had changed radically. I heard Mouse snarl, and someone screamed - the natural order of things.

Things went blurry and uncertain for a while. I heard the group talking, and Mouse barking furiously, but I was only aware of it because it was Mouse, and I was worried that they'd hurt him. The night's breath had settled on me like the weight of the world, burning, hissing in a way only I could hear. I felt crushed. I couldn't breathe. My magic felt sluggish and foul, like blood poisoning.

"It's not just the circle, he's got a ward of some sort around them," a man's voice said in English. Someone else spoke in Russian. I was beginning to understand Hardison's comment about learning a language by infection.

"Koldun", a hoarse, gravelly voice said. Something grabbed my face and picked me partially up, talons prickling my cheeks. "Wizard," the leshy said in terrible English. "You hear me?"

"I thought leshy didn't speak." I was trying to get myself in the game, but the night's breath was burning into my bones, my ribs hurt like someone had kicked them out of my chest, and my head was pounding.

The leshy growled - its way of laughing, I realized. It said something to one of the people around. We were in my basement. There were glow-sticks all over, illuminating my work: the brass circle on the concrete floor, closed and holding strong around a small shoebox full of Koschei's knick-knacks. Inside the circle were two more wards: the tracking foil I'd copied from the key, and a little bubble of force, very much like my shield, meant to keep things and people from this side of the Nevernever from getting through.

See, I could learn. I'd remembered that the leshy had been working with humans back at the museum, and I'd been ready.

"He says, 'the world changed, we changed with it'." It was the man who'd shouted a warning earlier, likely the one who'd shot at me. He was wearing all black, the better to be impossible to distinguish from the rest of the group. The leshy growled something at him. "You will dismiss the circle and remove the rest of your protections."

I gritted my teeth. Those talons were like shoe cleats, sharp and solid, and the fairy's grip was incredibly strong. They'd stripped me down to my pants and tee, and I was pretty sure they'd taken off anything that wasn't nailed down. I couldn't even feel the familiar weight of my pendant around my neck. My arms were bound behind me and my shoulder was really unhappy about that. They'd even taken my shoes off. "Bite me."

The leshy growled again and it occurred to me that it probably wasn't a good idea to invite him to do that. It said something a little longer this time. I was trying to figure out if I could use their ignorance to my advantage: the outermost circle was just that, a circle. Any of their human buddies could have made it past it. But because the leshy knew magical circles to be impregnable, they apparently hadn't thought to have the humans try.

"You will dismiss the circle," the translator said. "Or we will shoot your dog."

My lunge was instinctive. And pointless. The leshy stopped me before I could get an inch closer and slammed me back against a wall. It was just hard enough to be painful, but not enough to knock me out again. He even gave me a few minutes to find the wits he'd just send scattering all over with that casual bit of controlled violence.

"I drop the circle, you shoot us both."

The translator spoke. The leshy examined me, head cocked, golden eyes throwing an occasional red gleam when the light hit them just right. He said something long-ish.

"He considered it," the man translated. "But is not worth a death-curse, and you obviously love dog. What assurance can he provide?"

"Lock my dog up in the bathroom. Everyone else waits outside. I'll break the circle for him, and him alone."

"Nyet." The leshy wasn't stupid, though I'd hoped. He spoke at length, the translator asking a couple of questions.

"The dog stays in the net, goes in the bathroom. Three of us stay here. You drop the circle, remove the wards. We take you to the bathroom with your dog. You do not follow."

"I get your gun, you keep the bullets," I added.

That created a brief argument between the man and the leshy, but the translator caved eventually. Not that I didn't think they had a dozen other ways to kill me and Mouse, but the gun was the quickest one.

"And I'll need my hands free."

The leshy didn't wait for the translator. "Use feet."

"Fine."

He dragged me to my feet. Off to one side I could see Mouse, all but wrapped into a net, bound up inside a blanket that had been secured with duct tape. Ah, the net hadn't been for me, it'd been meant for him all along. He snarled, but didn't bark, probably out of pity for my throbbing skull. In the basement the sound would have echoed like thunder. Two humans picked him up warily, and while he tried to snap at them, he couldn't do more than twitch and drool. All but two leshy and the translator followed them out of the basement.

The translator pulled out the gun, removed the clip and the loaded bullet, and I twisted so he could give it to me. He didn't look happy. I made a show of muttering under my breath and calling up some magic. The effort bent me over double and I nearly felt my legs go to jelly. Bile rose up in my throat, and the lead leshy had to hold me up. I had to make it look like I was doing something, though, otherwise the leshy would catch onto my bluff about the circle.

But Boston, ah, Boston. The night's breath couldn't corrode what the city was giving me fast enough. If I could just get away, purge all of the corroded magic, I'd be fine. As it was, I had the power to throw a punch, I just had no way of knowing if it was going to blow up in my face or theirs.

I took a couple of deep breaths, tried again, and scuffed my foot over the circle and the two wards beyond it. And very calmly said, "Ignitum".

The circle broke. The lead leshy gestured the other two forward. The shoebox was plain, empty of anything but the rough dozen or so things Parker and I had got from Koschei. Everything was there, even the feathers and the invitation.

Except for two things.

The leshy grabbed me by the throat. "Key, koldun." He snapped at the translator.

"You are missing things. Where are they?"

"I only agreed to break the circle. It's not my fault if you didn't check your shopping before you paid the bill."

The leshy didn't like that. It slammed me against a wall and snarled. The translator opened its mouth -

The other leshy, who'd managed to grab the box, squealed in pain when something hot dripped down on it, then shrieked, clawing at its shoulder as a sizzling sound and the smell of burning fields began to fill the room. One of the ceiling tiles crashed down.

Everyone looked up. I just grinned at them.

Eliot had set up the trap for me, and he'd honestly had a blast doing so. The basement was bare concrete in every direction; to hide the fact that he was putting iron everywhere he could reach, he'd put up styrofoam ceiling tiles. He'd glued them to the concrete.

He'd laced the glue with iron filings.

Throwing a magical punch? Fifty-fifty. Melting fresh silicone that wasn't even hard yet? Child's play.

The lead leshy barked an order. The translator started for me. While they were both distracted I balanced myself on one foot, lifted the other, and kicked the leshy as hard as I could in the gut. He went sprawling back and crashed down on the floor. I snapped out the word of command. The circle snapped into life and cut him in half.

I dropped to my knees, most of my focus on not throwing up. The rest I channeled into forcing all the corroded magic the night's breath had poisoned out of me. I didn't even bother giving it shape, I just threw it out. It flattened the last two thugs and sent me crashing down on my face, even as I tried to force myself to get up, get to the box, I couldn't let them have the box -

More melted silicone dripped down. The last leshy squalled something that didn't sound nice, and the one human cursed. He came at me, trying to take his gun back. I drew in a deep breath and threw what little clean power Boston had given me in his face as a flash of light. He staggered back, blinded, swearing.

His buddy caught him and they both ran out of the basement, and I was left there, breathing hard, wondering if I should pass out. Or throw up. Or both, maybe. Somewhere above me Mouse was barking fit to bring the house down.

Passing out it was.

TWENTY FIVE

The gunshots woke up the neighbors. The neighbors woke up the cops, who expected to be summoned to such an address to bar brawls or petty theft, not to shots fired in a staid, elderly Boston neighborhood.

The gunshots also roused Nate. He came sprinting down the block to find half a dozen people peering out nervously, each one demonstrating vividly what they considered a safe distance, and none of them agreeing. The mastermind, who knew exactly how far a bullet could travel on kinetic energy alone, never mind inertia, didn't want to think of what would happen if there were more shots. He began taking stock of the problem by waving his phone at three of the people on the street. "Did someone, uh, did someone call the cops?" When the neighbors confirmed, he let out a long breath. "Good, good. Hey, those weren't gunshots, were they?" he asked as he dialed. "Hardison."

The Leverage team roused like a nest of wasps. A Crime Scene van and a two-man team nearly beat the cops to the site; the truck from Animal Control rolled in with them, and the one man joined the two masked people at the door, the cops making a path for them. All three of them winced as they walked in, pausing to yank their earbuds off.

"He's here," Eliot confirmed to the other two as they lit their flashlights, everyone taking a moment to hold their breath and see if they held - which they miraculously did. "You go ahead with the distraction, I'll find him." They had to find Dresden, get him out of the line of fire, and set up something appropriately gunshot-like but wholly accidental before the cops started looking in earnest. At the moment they weren't setting foot in the house, but Leverage could only guess as to why, rather than confirm.

"I need three minutes in the kitchen," Hardison said from behind Parker.

"I need two in his bedroom."

"I think we can buy you that," Eliot assured them.

"We?"

Despite the worry gnawing at him that the wizard had gone and gotten hurt (again), Eliot could only smile faintly. He whet his lips and whistled lightly.

From somewhere in the dark Mouse started barking immediately in response, a sound like thunder. Nate and Sophie, part of the crowd outside, saw every cop wince and twitch away. None of them went for their guns; none of them looked willing to go into the house. The crowd shifted restlessly, and stepped back without being urged to it. They crossed a look, but said nothing.

Parker threw a clean suit and a mask at Eliot and they split up. Alone in the dark, Eliot launched himself to the guest bathroom, just to one side of the stairs. "Harry!" When he got no answer he tried again, just a little louder. "Dresden!" No answer. He sniffed; there was a faint, familiar scent in the air that he couldn't readily place, but which left his gut tightening in anticipation of a punch he couldn't see coming. That, however was immediately set aside when he opened the bathroom door and found Mouse trussed up like a Bolivian hostage. "There you are."

Tied up or not, the Temple dog wagged his tail at him. Eliot started sawing on the duct tape, then paused; there was something sticky on either the ropes of the net or the blanket. Or the dog. Eliot considered shining the light on it, then decided he was better off not knowing. "We need to be quiet," he told Mouse, who whuffed nearly soundlessly at him. "And we need to find Harry, fast."

The moment he was loose, the mastiff sprang up on his feet and charged out of the bathroom. Eliot followed him down the stairs to, where else, the basement. The air was hot and full of the scent of burning plastic. Styrofoam tiles had fallen and shattered, leaving the tidy space a wreck. Eliot smelled rotten candy and recoiled. "Mouse, don't!"

The dog froze, and stepped back, whining.

Eliot knew that smell. He'd only smelled it once before, but sometimes that was all it took. He'd smelled it again, faintly, by the stairs. Rotten candy. Burning licorice. The basement cloyed his senses with it. Someone had come in prepared to take down both wizard and dog, and the hitter gritted his teeth. "Night's breath," he murmured, looked down at the dog. Moused looked up at him, ears perked. "You gonna be alright in there?"

Mouse eased himself gingerly into the basement. Paused. Whuffled.

Eliot followed. "Harry?"

A groan answered him, and he charged in. His boots squished on something very much not blood, but he didn't stop to check what it was. "Harry!"

"I'm gonna be sick," the wizard moaned. Eliot found him slumped in a heap against one side of the basement, tied up very efficiently, looking ashen under the light of the flashlight, Mouse licking his face enthusiastically.

"Place reeks of night's breath, man."

"That was me," Dresden admitted as Eliot worked to free him. "Someone dosed me upstairs. Burned it off here." He let out a vague sound of pain when his hands came loose and he started working feeling into them immediately. "They took the box."

"Who's surprised," Eliot grimaced when he nearly lost his grip on his knife sawing at the ropes around Harry's feet. "What… Why is everything slimy down here?"

"That was me, too," the wizard admitted. "I killed one of the leshy. Things from the Nevernever kinda melt when they die."

"They m- You mean- " Eliot found himself suddenly realizing he was, apparently, wading knee-deep through someone's equivalent of bodily fluids. "You mean we're covered in fairy blood?"

"Blood, guts…" Harry waved a hand to encompass a nebulous whole.

Full of violence as his life was, Eliot definitely had feelings about the situation, and none of them were good. "Damn it, Dresden!" he snapped as he helped the wizard to his feet and dragged him up the stairs.

"It'll evaporate to nothing soon!"

"And what part of 'don't get hurt' didn't you get?"

"You also said 'make it believable'," Harry protested wearily. "And they had humans with them. Again. And the humans had guns so. You know. The night's just been full of surprises."

Eliot hissed a breath out. Of course they would. "Alright. Get dressed." He thrust the clean suit and the mask at Harry. "We're going out the front door."

"Out the - They're gonna notice there's more people going out than came in."

Parker choose that moment to pop up next to them, making them both jump. "I'm not going out the front door." She had Harry's duster on, which made her look even more elfin than she already was, and looked terribly pleased with herself. "I found everything. They had it all stashed together. Amateurs."

Eliot merely imagined strangling the thief. Only a little. Just to soothe his rising temper. "They weren't thieves, Parker." When she gave him a pointed look the hitter realized what he'd said. "Ok, yes, they were thieves, but they weren't here to rob Harry!" Her brows went up. "You know what I mean! Is Hardison done?"

"I'll go check." She turned to look at Harry, and frowned minutely. "Are you hurt?"

"If I answer that, Eliot will get mad at me," he told her as he zipped up the clean suit.

To the hitter's chagrin, she took in that answer solemnly, nodded, and raced off for the kitchen.

"You are hurt," Eliot accused mildly.

"Leshy like to kick."

"Is anything broken?"

"No." Dresden breathed in, deep and very slow. "I don't think so. I'll get back to you on the concussion, though."

"You have a helluva sense of humor for someone I just found hogtied in his own basement."

Eliot saw the wizard grin, hard and bitter. "Eliot, I'm used to going down. I'm also used to waking up in a cell of one kind or another after." He popped the medical mask in place and put up the hood. "This is a distinct improvement."

The hitter had to pause at that. "Harry, don't you have anyone? Anyone that has your back?"

The wizard paused, went very still. "People… don't do so good when they get involved in a wizard's affairs," he admitted slowly, and the burden of pain and guilt and regret in his voice brought Eliot up very short. It had been years since he'd heard such a refined, complex mix of exactly those emotions from someone, but he remembered the day well enough.

He'd been staring in a mirror at the time, and he'd been horribly young.

"And not a lot of people accept that 'men in gray and big swords' trump a lot of the answers they sometimes want out of me."

The hitter caught the wizard's good shoulder. "Harry, for what it's worth," he said evenly. "I know it's hard. I know how it is when you've drawn a line on the sand and no one sees you holding it. Me, I'm here to keep my team safe. Twice, so far, I wasn't there - but you were. And that's enough for me. Thank you."

Dresden blew out a long breath. "Don't suppose you guys want to move to Chicago?"

"No more than you wanna move to Boston." Eliot looked up to see Hardison coming out of the kitchen, passing his backpack to Parker and taking hers in exchange. "Come on. The timing Hardison cooked up is tricky."

They marched out, the Animal Control guy first, leading the friendliest, most gigantic and slobberiest ball of fur out, leaving all the cops vaguely embarrassed that they'd been afraid to step into the house. Mouse hammed it up, tongue lolling to one side and tail wagging cheerfully. The crime scene people cleared out, the cops poured in, and everyone jumped into their respective vehicles.

It took a while to put both the Animal Control pick-up and the Crime Scene van back in place, none the worse for their small adventure, and everyone reconvened back at the loft. Sophie reported that there had been plenty of cops in the kitchen when the same security system that had destroyed the bedroom window interacted badly with an ancient electric board, entombed in the walls. The system had blown the garden door out onto the overgrown grass, and the antique board had gone off like a gun once again. A report had been written; fines would have to be paid. The owner had been summoned, and she'd been most grateful for everyone's prompt response, gracious and elegant even in her concern. Everyone had gone home somewhat disappointed and secretly reassured that life could go back to what it should be: quiet.

While Sophie soothed the mood at the safehouse, Nate came to see Dresden as Eliot, once again, patched up the wizard in the small spare bedroom behind the kitchen. Harry's entire chest was a rising, ugly bruise. When Eliot moved away to wash his hands, he spoke very quietly to the mastermind. "You know, when I said I'd like a job where I wasn't a punching bag, this wasn't what I meant."

"I know." Nate's mouth was pressed to a thin line. It wasn't just the injuries, or the attack. Violence threatened them all, that was just part of the job. But the violence that kept coming at Dresden was unpredictable and far too big for any countermeasures to readily work. "He's getting more hurt than you have in our worst jobs," he murmured quietly at the hitter.

"He's a civilian, Nate."

"So are you," the mastermind pointed out. "But I know what you mean."

"He doesn't have the training, he doesn't have the mental firewalls."

"Can you teach him?"

"In what, two days?!"

Nate gave the hitter a very keen, very level look. "I think he'd be grateful, and better off, with whatever you do give him." He pitched his voice to carry. "Dresden, what did they get?"

"Everything," Harry replied, testing his arm until Eliot flung a sling at him. "Everything but the key and the Witchwell."

"Mm. But he doesn't need those two back nearly as urgently as everything else. Not once Fedorov's offer gets to him. And he already has the portrait, he doesn't need help stealing it."

"He does if the Witchwell's not his and he needs to return it to the proper owner," the wizard pointed out, frowning thoughtfully.

"Does he?"

"He might. I'm guessing," Harry admitted, "but I don't think it's his. It's too modern, it doesn't fit what we know of the guy."

"I agree with Harry," Eliot added.

"So do I," Nate replied. "His reaction at the bagel shop was very telling. But the man in black has to know we can't destroy it, and he has to know it'd be much easier for him to recover it after the auction." He seemed momentarily lost in thought. He was wondering if Koschei would think of the many ways in which the Witchwell could be turned against him; if that potential danger would force him to divert attention and effort to its recovery.

And in three days' time, I will grant you and your people your heart's desire.

"He'll wait. He'll wait until he can simply take it back."

"He could take it back right now," Harry muttered.

"Could he? That's twice you've faced his hired thugs, and twice you've survived, Dresden. Twice you've almost won, until an external factor stepped in. Have a little faith in yourself. From his side, his odds don't look good."

Eliot understood. "He doesn't gamble. When he wins, he likes it to be by overwhelming force."

The mastermind nodded. "And every time Dresden steps in, it doesn't matter what the man in black throws on the field, it never ends up with a clean victory for him. He'll wait. We go on with the con. Get some rest, Dresden. You're no use as a monkeywrench if you're in pieces."

"I live to please, boss," the wizard declared wearily.

#the dresden files #leverage #my writing #fanfiction #crossover #harry dresden #alec hardison #nathan ford #parker #sophie deveraux #eliot spencer #urban fantasy #fantasy violence

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enchi-elm · 8 months

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Shaving in the U.S. Military

This was an amazing rabbit-hole to fall into.

Having no visible facial hair of my own and not serving in the military (not being American, besides) means I have no context for the scene I am getting ready to write and so I did what any seasoned fic writer would do, which is procrastinate with 45 minutes of research.

Starting with a Youtube search "shaving in the continental army", because you can always find the best tangents pinging away from your actual question when you search on Youtube. And man! There's so many opinions and experiences with shaving!

I started with this:

Haha, I thought. And then, what's a shaving profile?

A shaving profile, I learned, is a shaving waiver, a paper that permits you to grow a "therapeutic beard" to treat, among other things, a skin condition called pseudofolliculitis barbae (PFB), or razor bumps, which can present as anything from uncomfortable to painful and bleeding. A shaving profile can also be issued for religious reasons. When this was first instituted, the hair length of the shaving profile beard could not exceed one quarter of an inch.

Oh, so men have also realized that frequent shaving is hell on your skin, I thought, with some snark. Sucks when your social capital depends on it, doesn't it?

Or your career. Because, in fact, for people in the military, it does.

From a study reported on in 2012, 21% of air force respondents reported that their career had been negatively impacted by having a shaving profile, read, wearing a beard. And of these respondents who reported a perceived shaving profile bias, 63% identified as Black, 14% as Hispanic and 5% as Latino. PFB is most commonly found in Black men.

How strong is this stigma? Oooh, strong.

It's often couched in "concerns" surrounding looking uniform to the group, being able to follow orders, and -- failing all that -- having a tight gas mask seal. But as you can see in this funny video, the tone behind those "concerns" is anything but friendly, and it's costing these soldiers leadership opportunities and awards.

youtube

Man, these comments are fascinating.

Alright, noted, I thought. So what does that mean for the 18th Century?

Well, as it turns out, the style has changed a lot in the course of military history. All soldiers were expected to look sharp, but more important in the 18th Century was being clean. Shaving or hair cuts isn't mentioned at all in Baron von Steuben's famous Blue Book but washing frequently is. It's only through the article below that I learned that soldiers in the Continental Army had to shave three times a week, though their facial hair seems to have caused less issue than their head hair.

Shaving yourself is one thing, but there were few options for competently managing your hair, so most men wore their hair long. Those who plaited into a queue did so with flour and animal fat, while cavalrymen put their hair in a club at the base of their neck (which was just a more horse-riding resistant hairstyle).

(Thinking back now, of course, I don't think I've ever seen an 18th C portrait of a man wearing a queue and sporting facial hair (...anyone?). And certainly in TURN the tv show no one has a beard, but that's a modern show catering to modern audiences. I can just imagine the uproar there'd be if anyone other than Caleb Brewster sported prominent facial hair. And certainly we all know how Brewster's beard informs his characterization.)

In 1801, the beloved queue was officially abolished in the U.S. military and it caused an uproar among the enlisted that nearly reached mutiny. From that to the famously bushy moustaches and mutton chops in the Civil War to the long hair, trimmed moustaches, and long side burns of the 1960s and 1970s that the Navy and Coast Guard to my complete shock permitted among their ranks, hair has been a contentious issue, waxing and waning in style ever since the military's inception in the States.

So there you go!

As a final thought, because I am a fic writer with a preference for the Tallster pairing, I shall leave you with one of my favourite Tallster fics, written by the wonderful @lucyemers.

It is, of course, about shaving.

Guess I should go write that scene, now.

#history things #18th Century #20th Century #19th Century #21st Century #American Revolution #shaving #tallster #fic recs #caleb brewster #Youtube

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squadrah · 1 year

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Any way we could get a comprehensive list of all the conditions, allergies etc. that you HC Melone with? Your characterization of Mel is my absolute favorite!!

First, thank you for the kind words, I'm very happy you like my characterization so much! <3

Your ask made me realize that I actually had something from my CuriousCat, so I will put that whole thing here! I also found some other drafts of mine that hinted at Melone stuff, so I will look those over and add anything that isn't here (and after that I will hopefully also finish up and queue those drafts just to stay on topic!)

From My CuriousCat

"What are all your medical HCs for Melone?"

The first time I discussed Melone's potential health issues was when I listed some conditions for him in my La Squadra headcanon/drawing meme, the full version of which is here. For this post I'll include my original portrait of Melone separately since it demonstrates some of what I'll be talking about:

(For the meme, I listed the following conditions: comorbidities, amblyopia, allergies.)

Originally I didn't think a lot about medical conditions, but after listening to some friends talk about potential clues to Melone having poor health (his mask hinting at eye problems, the fact that his Stand works remotely so he doesn't have to engage his targets directly, and even things like his stiff gait in the now-defunct JoJo's Pitter Patter Pop mobile game), I decided that this reading of Melone made sense, and started thinking more about it. That said, since I'm not chronically ill and have little experience with chronic illness in my everyday life, I can only talk in vague terms.

As mentioned above, I had amblyopia listed in the drawing meme, meaning one "lazy" eye that Melone might also be mostly blind in. I've seen others say that his covered eye could be an implant, which is also interesting! In the end I went with amblyopia for the aesthetic.

By comorbidities, I was thinking an autoimmune disorder and some comorbid conditions exacerbating it and causing symptoms like joint pain, chronic pain, or insomnia. My portrait shows Melone with vitiligo both as an aesthetic choice (adding even more visual interest, which makes his portrait one of my all-time favorites I've done) and as a way of reflecting this condition, and an added motive was that I just feel like these little things make a difference and might make people with vitiligo feel more seen. Basically Melone is usually in mild to moderate pain, and on his bad days, it gets progressively worse, so he takes a lot of medication and indulges in hot baths. I would also add in retrospect that I could see him having occasional seizures, which tend to land him in the ER from time to time - along with stuff like minor accidents, having alcohol too soon after taking medication, or allergy flare-ups.

Speaking of allergies, my headcanon came from talking to a friend and joking about Melone figuring out through trial and error what he can and cannot have. Lactose intolerance is definitely among those in my land, so Melone has to take his lactaid if he wants a milkshake. Other allergies that I can remember later thinking about were to gluten, possibly sea food, and maybe even stuff like latex.

I didn't go into more detail in the original draft because it sometimes makes me feel sad to think about these things (and as I am editing this, the sentiment holds true), but because of Melone's general design and Stand design, these do make sense to me and honestly, it also helps to flesh out other aspects of his character. Thinking about potential medical conditions for him led to my absolute favorite headcanon for Melone, which is him taking ER selfies of himself and with friends, so for every trip to the emergency room, he has a few photos of himself flashing a victory sign while hooked on an IV, etc. It's funny and eccentric but also heartwarming and heartbreaking in a way: he is just making the most out of his condition and he has friends to help him and make the journey feel less harrowing.

I hope this answers your question, and thank you again for your kind words! It always makes me so happy when people enjoy my version of the characters! <3

#jjba #melone #squadrah headcanons #squadrah original

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risunsky · 11 months

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I was wondering how long it takes you to complete a drawing? Especially for some of the more complex/ detailed ones, how do you deal with not getting burnt out? Do you work on one piece until it’s complete or do you bounce around and work on multiple projects at once? Also I love your work. I think it’s so gorgeous and really powerfully conveys emotion 🖤

(sorry, it's a long answer again :x) My most complex drawings, such as the remake of the siege of La Rochelle or the one with winged Papa IV, took between 60 and 80 hours to complete. The Spillways one is probably a record-breaker because I had to start from the beginning several times.

It's also the time I need for a traditional A2 painting (like the one I'm planning to do this summer (wink wink) if the heat doesn't knock me out too much).

For simpler things like a portrait alone without background I try not to exceed 10 hours. Like Copia with his face hidden by his hat, or the one where he's holding a Grucifix. The one on the beach looks just as simple on paper and yet I think I spent more time on it, because I did some lineart to lay down certain details and I spent a lot of time refining the textures.

In any case, even for something very simple I rarely go under 6 hours, I consider myself a slow artist which isn't necessarily a problem, unless you want to make a living out of it.

- Avoiding burn-out is a difficult challenge. In 2020 I think I experienced it, it was my first A2 painting, there was a deadline, I was late and it was very important to me. I worked intensely on this big piece, I didn't do anything other than that, stopping only to eat and sleep. At the time I was having a great time, I was really enjoying myself, thinking I was experiencing the 'true passion of art' and I still have really good memories of that period of a few weeks. But once I'd finished I kinda fell apart, I was always tired, did an artblock for several months, it was difficult to get back to normal and it caused me problems for my job. It's thanks to doing ghost fanarts that I've managed to recover. I really don't recommend pushing yourself like that it's not healthy at all.

To avoid this happening again, I impose a schedule on myself. A break every 2 hours where I get up from my chair and walk around a bit. I don't work more than a certain number of hours a day (8~10) and I don't work at weekends. Well, that's the ideal, obviously it's hard to keep. When I get caught up in the enthusiasm of a project I have a bit of trouble controlling myself, it's like an obsession and nothing else matters.

There's also the fact that my interest in a project fades easily. I need to do as much as possible in one go so I don't risk giving up before it's finished. For commission I can work on several projects at once, jumping from one to another alternately, but I really prefer to be able to concentrate on one thing at a time. The more projects I have in the queue, the more scattered my mind becomes and I don't work well in that state.

Thank you so much for your interest! 🖤🖤

#ask #text post

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thewickwheat · 2 years

Photo

Original link didn't work for mobile so I’m making an actual post to link to which will hopefully work better! Sorry about the issues!

Illustration commissions are open indefinitely for the time being. Illustration commissions can be anything from a detailed scene to something more graphic like a portrait with several decorative elements. I have included a showcase of some of my illustrative work, so please give it a look over to get an idea of my strengths. I do want emphasize that my focus tends to be on period, fantasy and/or decorative. Modern day, futuristic and sci-fi are not my strong suits, so if you are interested in a commission with that sort of theme I will still give your details a look over to see if they are something I’m confident in taking on, but please understand if I refuse due to those details.

Information Below the cut

Price:

Illustration prices are determined on a case to case basis. Expect to being paying, at the very least, around 400USD. Depending on the amount of characters, background complexity, interactions etc. it could easily end up $1000+

Commissions Rules PLEASE READ

1)Email me at [email protected] (my official commission/contact email) and give a full description of what you want to commission. Please be ready with lots of reference; i.e. in-game screenshots, your own artwork, actors that you use as a faceclaim, environment inspiration, clothing and prop inspiration or reference or types of animals that will be helpful for properly portraying the elements of the illustration. NOTE: If you have something very specific in mind (especially with a scene style illustration, i.e. your D&D party camping for the night) a small doodle is very helpful. Seriously, it could be an incredibly crude sketch but as long as it communicates what’s in your head, even on a simple level, it can be INCREDIBLY helpful!

2) Payment is upfront. Once we have determined the price of your commission please send the money to the paypal address I give you as soon as you are able (if you need extra time for payment, let me know). I will not start on your commission until I have received payment. You can request for half upfront and half once I’ve finished the rough sketch if you like. If I am unable to complete your commission for whatever reason, I will refund you in full.

3) Your commission has been accepted and paid for! The turn around time extreme estimate is 6 months. Its very likely it will not take that long but given current circumstances my work schedules have been shaken up more than a few times and I want to give a honest, reasonable estimate that considers possible pandemic problems. If you need your commission before a specific date, let me know and we can discuss if its something I can get to you on time.

4) Substantial revisions (not quick/simple edits) will cost extra, depending on complexity.

Other Important Info

-I will not draw explicit sexual or violent content, casual nudity is fine. If you’re not sure if your idea is considered explicit or not, please message me and we can discuss.

-I also will decline any commissions I personally feel uncomfortable with.

-I will not reserve spots. If the queue is full you have to wait until a slot opens, I will not reserve one for you.

Character Commissions are only available in small batches at a time, I will make an indivudual post when they are open for submissions

#commissions #my art

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alma-amentet · 11 months

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I’ve been tagged by @katastronoot and @sheirukitriesfandom

Feel free to take if you haven’t been tagged already.

1) Describe one creative WIP project you’re planning to work on over the summer.

Just a few days ago I decided to pull myself together and finish my drafts, debts and references queue. There’s a number of tabs with refs hanging in my browser... Need to get rid of them! Then I’ll also finish some tutorials from my previous lessons as well as rewatch the ones I already did, just to get back in shape. And will probably dive into some other courses - I have some good videos.

Was thinking about making some doll, clothes after a long break. My drunk shepherdess needs this, as I changed my mind to sell her away! (she’s another story). And a bag for my favorite tarot deck, now I use the the bag I made for another one, while that another one rests in a bag that once was part of friend’s Christmas present.

The rest is optional for now, but I hope to start drawing more portraits again. Maybe, by the end of the year I’ll be taking requests and trades for your OCs and favorite characters... That would be super cool.

I wanted to start attending my IRL art class again, but looks like I won’t be able to afford it 😢 Sadly I’m not making much money these days, and there are some unexpected expences.

2) Rec a book!

Tanith Lee, The Night’s Master. I think Elden Ring fans will appreciate 😉 Made a post about it a while ago.

I also liked The Winter Players - finally, a good and strong female protagonist! Not evil, unlike Zorayas - the one from the Night’s Master 😉

3) Rec a fic!

False Azure in the Windowpane by Tulak_Hord

If you don’t mind het Malenia ship. I don’t because it has a lot of fluff and an interesting Tarnished. I loved the first 55k words, excluding the chapter where they sparred (for me, that felt too long and boring). But I keep reading it.

Also Flamed Aeonia by BadMonsterFr

This one has fem shipping, also a lot of hurt/comfort and fluff - just the way I like it!

I love Malenia fluff. So more Malenia fluff pls! If you can rec me anything else like this, you're welcome! (yes I know and love Unalloyed, esp. the epilogue. It’s somewhat different, more on Millicent and Miquella, but just my vibes as well).

(also I’m really sorry for not reading some of fandom’s buddies works, I do - I’d like to support you more ... started some of them, but couldn’t keep up. I’m a bad and slow reader, and prefer smaller sizes to long ongoings. There are just two long ongoings I'm reading, False Azure and Rebecca's, because they are updated not really often).

4) Rec Music!

I’m on my Breton and Francophone folk kick again, so I recommend

- La Boutine Souriante, folk-rock from Quebec (so far I’m listyening to their earliest albums, but they’ve been around since 70s and have many albums)

- Tri Yann. Modern Breton classics, I’d say! Love those old men who are still fit and well.

5)Share one piece of advice!

I agree with @vidvana Take care of yourself! Also don’t skip meals, get enough sleep. And if you feel you’d use some support, seek it any ways. If you can’t afford therapy or anything, there’s plenty of books and resources. Sometimes it’s even easier to help yourself than to find help. I’m quite experienced in self-help, I know what I’m talking about.

For me, Julia Cameron’s “The Artists’s Way” has become that single straw I grasped in my darkest times, and it actually helped greatly! I also used her list of further reading and quotes, thus finding Shakti Gauvain, whose books are inspiring and supportive as well. Later I was a moderator for several groups for the Asrtists’Way. Not an easy experience, but it taught me something as well.

But if there’s a chance of any therapy, groups, any other support, don’t give it up as well.

#ask game #tag game #alma.txt

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teegeeteegee · 5 months

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WIP Wednesday #2

Here's another one in my queue. It centers around Mario and Luigi being invited for cake and tea with Peach not too long after rescuing her from Bowser for the first time. I'm not sure if I'll continue or post this one, however. I'm even open to having it beta read if anyone is interested. OK, enough rambling; on with the WIP.

“Come on, Luigi! We don’t want to be late!” Mario yelled upward while waiting at the foot of the stairs.

“Hold your horses, Mario! I’m coming!” Luigi shouted back with hints of exasperation in his voice. A few seconds later, he came into view and walked down the stairs.

“Took you long enough!” Mario teased with a grin on his face.

“Sorry about that, Mario,” Luigi nervously rubbed the back of his head. “I’m just so nervous about everything.”

Mario placed a hand on Luigi’s shoulder while giving him a sympathetic smile. “Can’t say I blame you. It isn’t everyday two common plumbers have cake and tea with a princess.”

Mario took a moment to reminisce about everything that had happened between him and Luigi. In a week’s time, they went from plumbers who were investigating pipes in the Brooklyn sewers to becoming heroes in a completely different world. Upon arriving in the Mushroom Kingdom, they learned that an evil large turtle dragon king named Bowser kidnapped Princess Peach Toadstool, the leader of the Mushroom Kingdom, in an attempt to take over the kingdom. Not one to stand idly when someone was in danger, Mario volunteered to confront Bowser and rescue the princess much to Luigi’s consternation. Despite his protests, Luigi accompanied him on their rescue mission to in his own words, ‘make sure Mario doesn’t get into too much trouble’. After venturing through grueling worlds and an arduous battle with Bowser, Mario and Luigi emerged victorious and successfully rescued the princess. A celebration was then held in their honor after returning her to the Mushroom Kingdom, and the princess herself rewarded them with medals for their bravery.

Two days ago, Princess Peach invited the Mario brothers for cake and tea at her castle via a letter in the mail. Regarding the castle, after the ceremony, she offered them to stay there until they found a way home. However, both Mario and Luigi declined the offer because they wanted a place of their own. Peach nodded her head and remembered that there was an abandoned college just outside of Toad Town that the brothers could live in. They agreed to it and thanks to help of some industrious Toads, the Mario brothers had a place of their own in the Mushroom Kingdom.

Mario checked the time and saw it was thirty minutes before the time of the meeting. “Mama mia, we really have to go now! It would be rude of us to be tardy for a meeting with royalty.”

Luigi chuckled in amusement, which caused Mario to furrow his brow in confusion. “What’s so funny, Luigi?”

“You worried about being on time?” Luigi asked with a wry grin. “Usually, I’m the worrywart when it comes to punctuality!”

“Maybe we switched bodies or something,” Mario joked. “Now, let’s get going.” He grabbed his red cap off the hook near the door – with Luigi doing the same, except his was green – and both brothers exited their house.

~~~

“Well, here we are, Luigi,” Mario said as the brothers approached the main door of Princess Peach’s castle.

Mario couldn’t help but stare in awe at the castle. With its red, maybe dark pink roofs and white and gray bricks, the place was a splendid marvel. The main feature that stood out to him, however, was the stained-glass window portrait of the princess herself above the front door. While it may seem egotistical to other people to have a likeness of oneself in such a place, Mario knew the princess was anything but egotistical based on the short interactions he had with her.

“OK, this is it. Ready, Luigi?” Mario turned his head to check on his brother, only to see him trembling mightily with an apprehensive look on his face. He had a hunch why Luigi was this way, but he wanted to be sure before they entered the castle.

“Luigi is everything OK?” he asked with concern.

“I wish I could say it was but now that the moment is here, I’m not feeling too confident about this whole thing,” Luigi answered truthfully.

“I understand, Luigi. However, we’re here now, and it would be rather rude to turn back and stand the princess up after we accepted her attention.”

“I know Mario. You know I’m terrible around women, especially beautiful ones. Not only is the princess very beautiful, but she’s also that: a princess. She runs an entire kingdom. I’m a nervous wreck around normal women; it’ll be even worse around her. I know I’ll make a fool of myself in her presence. However, I’m more afraid that I’ll embarrass you, Mario. I wouldn’t be able to live it down if I made you look bad.”

Mario sighed and placed a gentle yet firm hand on Luigi’s shoulder with a smile to both calm his nerves and show him some understanding. “I completely understand where you’re coming from. To tell you the truth, I’m kinda nervous as well.”

Luigi stared at Mario with eyes widened in surprise. “But you’re always so brave and confident! I never thought you’d be nervous about anything.”

Mario nodded his head as he chuckled to himself. “Though it is true I appear to be brave on the outside, I feel tense on the inside; I just do a good job of hiding it. I was nervous when I rescued Pauline from that huge gorilla back in Brooklyn. I was nervous when we first arrived here in the Mushroom Kingdom. Finally, I was nervous the whole time we were on that adventure to rescue the princess. But you know what kept me going?”

“What would that be?”

“The situations themselves. Although I felt like gelato in an ice cream maker internally, my nerves were second fiddle to the people in danger. Admittedly, there were times when I thought I was in way over my head. However, you know I’m not one to stand by when someone needs help. If there was anything I could to help out, I’d do it without regret.”

Luigi could only look at Mario in adulation, which made the latter chuckle. He rubbed his younger twin’s shoulders and gave him another warm smile. “You know Luigi, you’re brave as well. You have your fears; however, you push them aside when needed and do the right thing. When I decided that I was going to rescue the princess, you were by my side the whole time despite how afraid you were. You even stood up to Bowser with me and had my back in case things went wrong. Truth is, I wouldn’t have defeated Bowser without you. You’re as much of a hero as I am; I hope you know that.”

Luigi smiled as a few tears formed in his eyes. “Thanks, Mario. I really needed that.”

“No problem, Luigi,” Mario smiled as he gave Luigi a hug, which the latter returned. “Now, are we ready to overcome this latest challenge and have cake and tea with the princess?”

“I’m still not so sure,” Luigi answered. A sardonic smile then appeared on his face. “Women can be much scarier than fire-breathing turtle dragons.”

“I can’t blame you for thinking that way,” Mario laughed. “I was nervous as h-e-double hockey sticks when Pauline and I started dating.”

“Really?” Luigi asked surprised.

Mario nodded his head affirmatively. “I only asked her out was because the guys at the Wrecking Crew dared me, so I did it to shut them up. I didn’t think she would say yes in a million years and went in expecting to be rejected. However, she absolutely floored me when she did say yes. I was even more surprised we lasted together as long as we did. I never thought someone like her would ever end up with a guy like me.”

“At least you can say you dated someone,” Luigi lamented. “I, on the other hand, haven’t been so lucky.”

Mario placed his hand on Luigi’s back and rubbed it gently. “Don’t beat yourself up over it too much, Luigi. I’m sure you’ll be able to get lucky someday. Who knows, the princess may take a liking to you.”

“The day that happens is the day Spike offers his services for free,” Luigi chuckled.

“You never know, Luigi,” Mario chuckled in return. “The one advantage we have here is that the princess reached out and invited us to the castle. That’s a good start. You never know what could happen.”

“If you say so,” Luigi playfully rolled his eyes.

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Mario grinned. “We’ve wasted enough time out here. The princess is probably already expecting us. So, are you ready to do this?”

“I don’t know, but I’m gonna do my best!” Luigi answered with a renewed enthusiasm and a minor fist pump.

“That’s what I want to hear!” Mario laughed as he patted Luigi on the back. “Let’s not keep her Highness waiting!”

Calming his nerves, Mario walked towards the door with Luigi by his side. He looked forward to what kind of cake and tea Princess Peach had in store for them.

#wip wednesday #mario #luigi #potential fanfic #another tee fanfic idea

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