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d1xonss · 5 months

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Desert Rose

Chapter 22 ~ Scars

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 2

✧ Word Count : 5.4k

⚠️ TW : Mentions of attempted suicide & SH scars

In this chapter ~ When Rick and Shane decide to take Randall away from their people to drop him and fend for himself, things seem to go wrong on the other end. Beth becomes suicidal after witnessing the death of her mother just days prior, leading Rose to comfort her in a time of need. However, the heaviness that followed was a lot more than she anticipated, though luckily for her, Daryl helps her pick up the pieces.

It had been about two days since they brought Randall back, and he eventually woke from his unconscious state. Since then the place had been chaotic.

The group was constantly going around and around in circles about what to do with this guy, so much so it gave me a pounding headache. Because most of the time the arguments wouldn't go anywhere. People would just repeat the same things that had already been said, causing us to feel stuck in the same place as no one really had a solution.

Until Rick just made the final decision to do what he wanted to since the beginning, take the man far away from the farm and drop him off on his own.

So now that the man was finally able to walk and balance decently on his own, Rick and Shane took a car to drive him out in the middle of nowhere, leaving the rest of us nervously waiting for their return. Everyone eventually seemed to agree with the plan despite the possibilities of him coming back, but it's not like we had much of a choice.

I for one was trying to keep myself busy all day, helping Lori with some laundry, staying to keep watch on top of the RV, I even made a run into town earlier that morning with Glenn. We had found a few different stores in a small part of town that had some useful things in them. But there was a little something else I found that I was extra excited about besides the food and supplies.

When we walked into the last store, I saw it. The perfect thing to give to Daryl. I had never gotten him something in return when he gave me my sketchbook and watercolors, but now I had something that I thought would suit him quite nicely. It was a black leather vest with stitched angel wings on the back.

In my mind, I hoped he would really like it and I had planned to give it to him later that night. Once we all knew Randall was taken care of.

Currently I was washing dishes with Maggie, occasionally talking about random things, trying to get our minds off of what was happening today. I could easily tell she hadn't stopped thinking about it since it happened either, the anxious feeling of the man somehow making his way back to her own home couldn't have been easy to deal with. But I had hope that everything would work out just fine and things would begin to move smoothly again.

She wordlessly handed me the last plate that was in the sink, water dripping off of the edges as I took the towel in my hands to dry it. She leaned her back up against the counter as she stared down at her shoes, the sound of me stacking the final plate in the cabinet brining her out of her thoughts as she glanced back up to me nervously.

"Can I talk to you about something... more serious?" she asked.

I only nodded my head as I listened, throwing the towel back down on the counter to give her my full attention as I copied her stance.

"Well, Glenn's been avoiding me lately, and he told me that when he was out there trying to fight those guys, he froze at one point. He was saying that since I told him I loved him... that's the reason he froze, and my dad had to save his life. He said he was afraid to die... thinking about how it would affect me." she finished almost a little shamefully.

My eyes widened a bit as I was a little thrown off and not expecting that, but I was still quick to respond and reassure her. "Listen, I know that it might not feel too great that he's avoiding you, but the truth is he loves you too. I don't think he should be avoiding you, I think he should be cherishing these moments he has with you, but y'know he's a guy." I pointed out, giving her a look she would be able to read.

She laughed quietly to herself as she nodded her head in silent understanding, "But he'll come around, I promise. You just gotta give him a little time." I finished.

She pressed her lips together and nodded gratefully, "Thank you." she said, "I feel like I can really talk to you ya know? I'm glad you're here."

I smiled, "Yeah, me too." I spoke, opening my mouth again before closing it back up quickly. My dumbass almost slipped up and said something about how I was glad that I stayed, but I bit my tongue before it could come out.

My eyes then absentmindedly panned over towards the tray of food that Maggie had set off to the side a few minutes ago, "Is this for Beth?" I asked, quickly changing the subject.

She followed my gaze and nodded, "Oh yeah, I was about to bring that up to her when we were done."

"Oh I got it, I was going to check on her soon anyways." I said, moving towards the counter.

She smiled gratefully, "Thank you. You know Beth really likes you. Ever since you taught her how to play those few songs on the guitar it's really all she can really talk about. I think seeing you would cheer her up."

"Yeah, I had fun teaching her, I'm sure she'll be ready to learn some more in no time." I reassured her.

Maggie nodded her head and I fully picked up the tray in my hands, walking out of the kitchen to head upstairs and into Beth's room. It seemed quieter than usual as I made my way up the familiar stairs, something seeming a little off. But I mostly blamed it on Rick and Shane's absence, still not here even after leaving early this morning.

For some reason the whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth, sensing something might go wrong out there, not necessarily with Randall. But with each other.

After what happened with the barn and the whole fight that came after that, the two had been at each other's throats ever since. It was way far off from how they used to act around each other, seeming more like brothers than friends. But something just clicked and now they almost acted like strangers. Though it was none of my business, I still noticed.

Pushing my thoughts aside, I made it up the long staircase and lingered by the closed door, knocking softly a few times before I entered. To my surprise, I heard her soft voice from the other side invite me in, causing me to open the door as best as I could with the tray still balanced in my hands.

"Hey hon, it's just me." I announced as I walked in, "I brought you something to eat, and to see how you were doing."

Her gaze panned over towards me, and my breath hitched slightly in the back of my throat. I knew that familiar look all too well. I tried to not let it affect me too much in case I was wrong, but I had a feeling I wasn't. She looked utterly broken and depressed, much more pale with bags under her eyes from the lack of sleep. She had just lost her mom, I came to find out that she was the walker Beth ran to after everything happened. I'm pretty sure I couldn't have felt worse for her after finding that out, now more than ever seeing her like this.

"You can just set it down here." she said, pointing over towards the side table next to her bed.

I did what she asked and stood there for a moment as she stared at the sandwich on the plate, "Do you want me to stay, or do you want some space."

"Some space. If that's okay?" she asked.

"Yeah of course," I said immediately, "Just...call if you need anything." I finished with a smile.

She barely gave me a noticeable nod before I turned on my heel to give her some time alone, but I couldn't just brush off the vibe I picked up. It again could be nothing, just being paranoid over something I was reading too much into. But in case I was right, I didn't just want to keep it to myself.

I ventured back down the stairs, peeking in the kitchen again to see if Maggie was around, but the room was empty by the time I got back. A sigh left my lips as I turned back around to try and find her, but I managed to spot Lori entering the house right as I was about to come down the hall.

"Oh hey, Lori?" I called out as I approached her.

She turned towards me with a small smile, hanging up her jacket, "Hey, what's up?" she asked.

My eyes glanced back up the stairs momentarily before turning back to her, slightly lowering my voice, "I just...I'm worried about Beth. She just seems a little off and I was going to find Maggie to let her know but-"

"I can tell her." she offered with a nod, "I'll keep an eye on her until she comes back."

"Yeah that would be great." I spoke gratefully, "She's just up in her room and wanted to be left alone... but I don't know I think Maggie should know."

"Absolutely." she agreed instantly, "I'll tell her the next time I see her, okay?"

I nodded, "Thanks." I said with a small smile, passing her as I moved to exit the house.

I felt a little bad not telling Maggie about it myself, but knowing someone else would keep an eye out for Beth gave me a little piece of mind. I didn't want to hover over her or pick up any overprotective instincts even though in the back of my mind I knew it was inevitable. I just wanted her to be okay.

The rest of the day passed by slowly, leaving nothing much to do around camp and everyone simply doing their own thing for the day. After not being able to find Maggie, looping around the farm a couple of times, I assumed she was back in the house at this point. So I took the much needed time to myself.

A few hours passed by with me just laying down in the yellow tent trying to relax as best as I could. Spending most of the time reading the book Daryl had stolen from me when he got hurt and it actually turned out to be pretty good, only drawing me more in with each chapter. The details were amazing and I loved the plot. I didn't plan on giving this back to him anytime soon.

I hadn't seen him for most of the day because he decided to go out hunting fairly early in the morning, leaving camp before the sun even rose. He offered for me to come with him, but I declined as I needed to go out on that run with Glenn to get some things for myself, and he understood. I just hoped he would be back soon along with Rick and Shane who continued to be gone for far too long.

Damn it was like everyone was missing today.

After closing in on the last chapter, I finally shut the book after what felt like forever, blinking my eyes a few times to adjust them. For hours I had been reading tiny words on these pages and I felt that it was time for a break. So, I placed the book back in my bag, standing to leave the tent and walked outside a little to stretch my legs, leaning from side to side as I was hunched over for many hours.

I glanced around the small camp to see who was around, before my eyes suddenly stopped on Carl sitting by the RV. He seemed distant as he glanced at the comic book sitting in his lap, barely reading over the pages as he sloppily flipped through them. A pain in my chest suddenly dispersed upon seeing him like this, knowing that he hadn't been the same since he witnessed Sophia coming out of that barn. But who could blame him?

He was grieving in his own way, separating himself from the others as much as he could for just some time alone to think. I hadn't had a proper conversation with him since that day everything went wrong, keeping my distance as that's what he seemed to wish for. But I shook my head as I began to walk over towards him, wanting to talk to him for the first time in what felt like too long.

"Hey kid." I greeted him.

He glanced up and gave me a slight smile, "Hey." he spoke as he closed the book to give me his attention.

I moved to take a seat next to him on the ground, "So, what're you reading? Tell me about it." I said.

His eyes lit up "Really?"

I chuckled a little, "Yeah, why not. Who's this?" I asked, pointing to some sort of superhero.

His excited demeanor never faltered as he went on to tell me everything that was happening in this comic book. Who all of the characters were, what their powers were, and what their mission was. This was one of the first times I had seen him get excited about something in what felt like forever, and it warmed my heart at just the sight. He began to slowly open up a little bit more the longer we talked, changing the subject a few times to talk about his favorite cartoons he used to watch before the outbreak.

I enjoyed watching him smile, it felt like it had been some time since it last happened, and I was just glad to distract him even if it was only for a few minutes. A kid his age should never have to go through half the shit that's he's been through, though he was tougher than I ever could've imagined.

After we finished talking for a while, I left him to read it in peace after that. I wanted him to have his space too, and I never wanted to overstep any boundaries, especially when it came time to grieve someone.

I found myself heading back into the house to grab something to eat afterwards, but as soon as I walked in, I jumped a little as I suddenly heard screaming from just up the stairs. I didn't hesitate for a second before I was rushing up the steps two at a time, jogging into Beth's room to see Maggie and Lori were yelling and banging on the bathroom door.

"Woah, woah, what's happening?" I asked.

Maggie's head whipped around to face me, "Beth...Beth tried to kill herself and now locked herself in the bathroom, I heard glass." she spoke quickly, continuing to pound on the door, pleading with Beth to listen.

Panic flooded through me. She tried to kill herself? And was now attempting again? I stood in the doorway frozen in shock as I felt as though I couldn't move a thing. But then my eyes quickly darted around the room, looking for something to get the door open. Lori had moved to search the room for the key, frantically looking through her drawers as fast as she could, but I spotted a metal rod sitting in the corner of the room. I didn't think twice about it as I stepped forward, picking it up in my hands before telling Maggie to move out of the way quickly and she jumped back.

Sticking the thing in between the lock and the wood, I pushed on it as hard as I could in an attempt to pry it open. There was a sudden crack after a few seconds before the wooden door suddenly flew open, revealing Beth standing there with her hand over her wrist, blood pouring out of it. Her head whipped over to us frantically as soon as she heard the door breaking, tears streaming down her face and her heart no doubt racing out of her chest.

"I'm sorry." she sobbed, and Maggie didn't waste anymore time as she went in to pull her close.

I ditched the metal rod in my hands, stepping inside the bathroom only to realize how severe the cut actually was. Blood was now running down her arm and onto the tile floor, the amount of pressure she was putting on it clearly wasn't enough. I quickly placed my hand on Maggie's shoulder to get her attention, gently pulling Beth out of her hold.

"Go get your dad, he's going to need to stitch this up." I said, trying to hide the panic in my tone.

But she caught it even though it was disguised, quickly nodding her head as she left right along with Lori to try and find Hershel as fast as possible. Beth looked up at me and opened her mouth to speak, but only a sob came out as she ducked her head, causing me to immediately shush her and bring her into a hug.

We all had different experiences with mental health, everything was dealt with differently, but I somewhat knew how she was feeling. I had been in her position not that long ago and seeing her standing there when I first opened the door, brought all the memories back, so fast it was like a tidal wave. The whole situation nearly knocked me off my goddamn feet.

After standing in place for a while as she sobbed into my arms, I slowly started to bring her back into her attached bedroom, sitting her down on the bed so she could try to relax and focus on her breathing as she put more pressure on the wound.

Hershel frantically came in soon after that with a needle and thread and started to stitch his daughter up as she cried. I stayed by her side the whole time, holding her hand to offer her some type of comfort I was able to give. Though it was heartbreaking hearing her cry, and even more heartbreaking seeing Hershel try to pull himself together as he worked. I tried to think over the right things to say to her when the time came, but I felt that there was no right thing to say. What could you say after something like this?

After Hershel was done he said he would talk to her later and soon left the room in a hurry to no doubt let a few tears fall, leaving Beth and I alone again. She slowly laid down on the mattress after he left, her cheeks still stained with tears as she tried to calm herself down, with me rubbing her back towards the end of the bed. The silence slowly becoming deafening.

"Are you mad at me too?" she suddenly asked. I could feel the pain in her voice.

I whipped my head to look at her, "Oh my God honey no, I'm not mad at all. And neither is Maggie or your dad, they just love you so much. Seeing you like this... it hurts them, you know?"

She sighed as she shook her head, "I just feel so alone in this, like they don't even understand. Nobody does." she muttered.

"You're not alone." I said with a shake of my head, "I can promise you that."

"How do you know?" she was quick to ask.

My breath caught in my throat as I thought back to my own experiences, so different, yet so similar to hers. I debated in my head for a long time in the dead silence, letting the seconds turn into minutes if I really wanted to do this. I had never dared to show anyone the things I kept only to myself, ashamed of what others might think if they caught a glimpse of them. It made me feel vulnerable, weak, and that was something that I hated, but I needed to show her that someone here understood what she was going through.

So with a heavy breath, I hesitantly lifted my shirt sleeves to reveal my deeper scars on my wrists, trying to ignore the twist in my stomach as the cold air hit my arms. Her eyes followed my movements, immediately seeing them and I watched her eyes get wider with each passing second.

"I know." I assured after the agonizing silence.

She shook her head in disbelief, "You-"

"Yeah." I interrupted her, almost like I didn't want to hear her say it.

"It was uh... at a really hard time in my life. I won't bore you with the details but someone in my life was making me feel worthless. He told me that so much I started to believe it myself, and I got really depressed. Eventually I thought that... doing this was my only option so I... tried. But I regretted it as soon as I saw the blood, kind of like you did. So I called for help and I... saved my own life that night."

She stared at me so intently, listening carefully to every word that came out of my mouth. I knew I could trust her to not say anything to anyone, just as she knew I wouldn't judge her for trying to do what she did. It was like a silent agreement that we had at that moment.

"Look, my point is I don't know exactly how you feel and I never will. But we were in the same boat you and me, we're fighters and I know you'll make it through this. You just proved that today when you stopped yourself." I said.

Her eyes refilled with tears as she looked at me with utter sadness, "I didn't realize...I'm so sorry Rose."

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, not wanting her to see me cry as I smiled sadly, "I'm sorry too." I whispered before bringing her into a hug.

She clung onto me tightly as the new fresh tears fell down her face, sobs erupting from her lungs. All the emotions mixed with the exhaustion was truly taking a toll on her body, but I was prepared to hold her for as long as she needed. Just like I wished someone had held me.

Once her cries quieted down after a few minutes, I spoke quietly to her, "I am always going to be here for you, okay? You're never alone in this. Never." I assured as I held her tighter.

"Okay." she whispered, hiccups building in the back of her throat.

Although I couldn't see her face as she spoke, I knew now that she believed me, and knew that I wasn't going anywhere. Hell, I would be at her beck and call always if that meant saving her life. I somehow knew then that everything would be okay, maybe not at first but it would be. Beth was strong and I could see that so clearly, even if she couldn't see it yet herself, she was going to be okay.

After I knew for sure she was okay for the night, her assuring me multiple times, I said my goodbyes and walked out to send Hershel back in the room to talk to her. Nothing could've probably prepared him for the things that man had to do today, but I just couldn't get over the look on his face. It was like he had seen a ghost when he first burst into the room, and it was devastating.

After I walked out of her bedroom, I found him just sitting a few feet away outside, telling him he was good to head in, but before I could walk away he caught my arm to stop me.

"Thank you for...comforting her at a time like this. I just... I don't know what to say to her once I go in there. But just know I appreciate you Rose, thank you so much." he said with visible tears in his eyes.

I took his hand off my arm, squeezing it tightly, "Just be there for her, okay? Let her do the talking first. And it's no problem, I care about all of you so much."

He nodded and then suddenly did something I didn't expect, he hugged me. I sighed to myself before I was soon hugging him back for a few moments before letting him go after a few short seconds so he could talk to Beth. After watching him go, shutting the door behind him to leave only a crack, I made a beeline down the stairs and out of the house. I practically jogged all the way back to the tent, tears threatening to fall from my eyes as I desperately tried to keep myself together. But the moment I zipped up the entrance, finding myself completely alone, I let it all out.

Seeing Beth like that was too much for me, but I wouldn't dare let her know that. She needed me and I was going to be there for her, however it just brought back painful memories from my past that I so desperately tried to avoid. I just sat there and cried quietly as I hugged my arms around my middle from the slight chill in the night. Rethinking everything that had happened today, I couldn't help but wonder how it could've been different if I had just stayed inside that damn house. How I could've prevented something from happening if I had tracked down Maggie myself. Maybe things could've been different.

But suddenly the zipper of the tent was being opened quickly, and Daryl was making his way inside as he finally returned from his hunt. I quickly looked away from him while frantically wiping my eyes, knowing he hadn't heard me crying, not even noticing I was in here at all at first from how silent I had been.

"Oh, hey." he greeted once his eyes raised from his boots, "I was bout to look for-" he then stopped himself noticing immediately the state that I was in, "Rose? Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, coming to kneel in front of me.

I tried to pull myself together, "Nothing, I'm okay." I said as I looked to the side, basically anywhere but his face.

I couldn't look at him, I just knew I would break down if I did. I could already feel the new tears building up in my eyes as I felt him gently take my hand in his and rub the back of it lightly with his thumb.

"Talk to me." he said in a soft voice.

I didn't say anything. I didn't even know where to start, today had just been painfully long and all I wanted was to go to sleep so it would be finally over. It seemed like we couldn't catch a break. And as if it couldn't get any worse, I saw out of the corner of my eye Daryl's eyes were staring down at my wrist as he still held my hand in his. I froze with widened eyes and suddenly didn't know what to do, I couldn't move.

"Rose." he said softly while looking at the scar, moving to take my opposite hand to see the other. But I quickly pulled both hands away from his grasp so he couldn't get a better look.

"Damn it." I cursed silently as I pulled my sleeves back down harshly, wiping my eyes with them as I tried desperately not to look him in the eye. I didn't know what I wanted, for him to leave or stay, when all I could feel now was just utter embarrassment.

He made no sudden movements for what felt like years, until I felt his finger and thumb gripping my chin gently to lift my head to look at him. His thumb rubbed softly on my chin as I finally brought myself to look into his blue eyes.

"Talk to me." he repeated.

That's when the sudden floodgate broke loose, my tears only falling more freely than they did before. I couldn't stop them, there was just so many emotions I was feeling about everything, and I couldn't get all of it out before he came back, so now he was witnessing it firsthand. I felt mortified about crying so much lately, it seemed like all I was able to do, like it was all I was good for these days.

His hands then moved to my cheeks when it began to be too much, his thumbs gently wiping my fresh tears away. He leaned in close to place a soft kiss on my forehead, waiting patiently for me to start talking whenever I was ready. And I did.

I told him what happened with Beth and how she tried to end her life. I ranted about how I should've been there sooner and not just sitting in the tent all damn day, but I didn't know. I should've known, the feeling I had alone was a good enough reason to stay close, but I truly didn't know. Regrettably I also when on to explain my situation as well, seeing as I couldn't really avoid it because of what he barely saw through the darkness.

I told him almost every bit of the conversation I had with her, though it made me the most uncomfortable, I didn't want her to believe she was alone in this. Informing him also that seeing her like that brought back too many memories for me and that's why I had been crying in the first place...and then we sat there. There was just silence. He didn't try to talk one time. He just listened.

After seeing that I was done, not having anything else to say, he finally broke the silence, "Yer one of the greatest people to walk on this earth, ya know that?" he asked.

I was slightly taken aback at what he said, a scoff leaving my lips as I shook my head, "Believe me I'm far from that." I responded, no longer looking at him.

"Look at me." he said softly.

I slowly tore my eyes away from my hands and met his again, almost burning under his gaze. I almost couldn't believe how much I was cowering away from someone I truly trusted, but then again this conversation was one that I didn't want to be having with anyone.

"What ya did for Beth, bein there for her, that's the best thing you can do for her. And showin her she isn't alone through all this, it's amazin what ya did for her today...now about you..." he trailed off, looking back down at my hands sitting in my lap.

He then gently grabbed both of them and slowly rolled both of my sleeves all the way up to the middle of my arm. I tensed when he did this and he noticed, but yet he didn't stop. He raised my left wrist up to his lips, and began to leave soft kisses over every inch of the scar. Then moved to my right wrist and did the same exact thing, leaving goosebumps on my skin, but a warmth in my heart.

He held both of my hands tightly once he was done, looking back up at me as he spoke again, "Yer so strong, and ya never have to be ashamed of these. They're just marks on yer body to show that ya made it, even when things were really hard. I get yer ashamed of showin em, but you don't have to be. Not with me." he finished.

I stared at the man in front of me in awe. Nobody had ever spoken so beautifully about me like this before. Nobody had ever complimented the thing that I was the most insecure about. No one had ever kissed the places I had once hurt so badly. Nobody except him.

Tears built up back in my eyes, but this time for a completely different reason. I was quick to take my hands out of his, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to bring him into a hug as I felt I could finally breathe.

I heard what sounded like a sigh of relief come from him as he quickly wrapped his arms around me as well. Maybe he was worried about what he had said upset me, but it did quite the opposite. It made me relieved. Relieved that someone cared enough for me to not only see the good side of me but also the bad.

But with the way he spoke, and the way he was hugging me back so tightly, it almost made me question if he knew the feeling as well. The feeling of being ashamed or insecure because of something marking you from your past. And maybe he did. But I wasn't going to ask. I would wait until he felt comfortable enough to tell me, like he did for me just moments ago.

~ Thanks for reading!

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tea-with-eleni · 4 months

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Ludmilla Vilisevic

Pastel pencils on black paper with metallic gold watercolor, white acrylic for the brightest highlights.

My take on Ludmilla under the cut, from Ireena's point of view (aka "the least sympathetic point of view in Barovia, probably")

Ludmilla still doesn’t look directly at you, but she touches your knee. She probably understands why you fear Strahd as well as anyone. Hells, she…

“Why did you marry him?” You ask, before you can think better of it. Ludmilla slumps slightly.

“You won’t believe me, but he isn’t the same without you. It’s difficult to describe. It helps, I think, that I was alone when I came here. I wanted to learn, and he is the most brilliant man I’ve ever met. He was also lonely.” She isn’t telling the whole story. You try to drag your mind out of your past lives enough to figure out what you might be missing. The fact that you’re trying to figure something out about Strahd makes it difficult after centuries of lies and flattery and, if you believe Ludmilla, only seeing him a certain way. Ludmila seems to notice the shift in your demeanor and forces a smile. You can see her fangs. You try not to shudder. You hate Strahd, and you intellectually know that she’s a monster, but it’s easy to forget that right now.

You look back out the window. “Were you only ever alive or a true vampire?” You ask. Ludmila doesn’t answer for a long time.

“No,” she says with a sigh. “I was spawn for decades. He didn’t know how to even create true vampires; how would he? He was the first.”

Your stomach twists. “That must have been horrible,” you say. You shouldn’t. You don’t want to sympathize with her. She’s a monster. She made and sacrificed plenty of her own spawn in Vallaki. She made Doru. You should not sympathize with her.

“It could have been worse,” she says. She’s gone still. You’re suddenly conscious of how much living things move. She no longer resembles a living thing. She resembles a statue. “I did love him, after all. In his own way, he loved me. He didn’t know to what extent I had to obey him.” Her voice is flat. You watch her with growing concern until she shakes herself a little and forces another smile. She doesn’t try to meet your gaze but looks back towards you. “He learned with us. He would never make you spawn. When you were Marina, you would have been a true vampire if your horrible burgomaster hadn’t staked you. You wouldn’t have ever been spawn, not for a moment.”

It isn’t comforting, not if you think about what that means you must have done. She can tell, because she apologizes. Then, abruptly, she’s gone.

The mist is rising again outside. You shudder and retreat to the fireplace. You are grateful that there are some things you cannot remember.

#curse of strahd #dungeons and dragons #ludmilla vilisevic #brides of strahd #my art

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terresdebrume · 4 months

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More fic covers | More fic recs

I mentioned I made fic cover in a recent post and it reminded me that I'd meant to make one for SJTrinity's Band of Brothers fic: Under Thunder and Rain which is THE Webgott fic, as far as I'm concerned. I've reread it something like five time in the past three months, it's ridiculous. You should read it to.

More about my thought process under the cut, with some spoilers.

So, the entire fic is amazing, of course, but the scene that keeps standing up in my mind is the one in chapter 4, where David is about to sail away on the Tusitala and Joe tries to convince him not to. I love this scene, the vulnerability in both of them, the fact that they find each other, the fact that Joe doesn't realize that it's him David was looking for in the sea. (I know David compares himself to the Shark from the Frisco chapter, but to me his fight to catch said shark is also an excellent parallel of the way he constantly has to reel Joe in and then give him some slack before he breaks the line in his struggle.)

All this to say: I had to have the Tusitala on the cover, if only because if this boat could talk it would be able to tell the tale of how Joe and David finally stop struggling and come together for good. The rain, of course, is a reference to the title and the poem David writes Joe in chapter 5, but I still wanted a bright blue sky as the background because I feel like the vivid and peaceful color are a good contrast to the way they struggle to find their way to one another (and also it reminds me of Episode 10 of BOB, where the color is back in the world and it feels like everything should be alright, but Easy is still losing men and none of them is free of the weight of the war.

The title and author name being on pieces of paper is, of course, a nod to Joe's box full of David's letters and notes, which is also featured against the title card. I wanted watercolor of a bag of groceries for the upper left corner, to further reference that first note and the fact that we don't know how significant it is until the end of the story, because Joe keeps all his cards fucking close to the chest, even if he also betrays himself in his struggle.

(Full disclosure, on my latest rereads the bits that caught my brain were

the time David asks Joe if his future wife does have a smile to die for and Joe says "yeah, it's a great smile. Drives me nuts." While running a finger over David's lips

"He wouldn't add or take away a single thing, and the people who read that book would know how fucking lucky he had been, how he had fought against it and gotten it anyways, this symphony of a life.")

Unfortunately, I couldn't find any graphic on Canva that fit the style of the rest of the cover, so I got a pastry instead. I picked the croissant because, while not extremely sweet for a delicatessen, it's very buttery, and, well: "Copious amounts of sugar and butter clearly loosened him in a way even sex couldn't achieve, because when David came and stood beside him by the stove, Joe threw an arm around his shoulder and bumped their heads together, then playfully tried to wrestle him off his feet." which I feel is also a delightfully deep insight into Joe in general.

And last but not least: the transparent text is the last note David writes Joe in the fic, standing in as the last page of Joe's unwritten book of them.

#Band of Brothers #Band of Brothers fic #Webgott #Joe Liebgott #David Webster #HBO War fic #HBO War #Matt makes stuff #Fic cover #Fic rec #15n #20n

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aralezinspace · 1 year

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Masquerade II

~Part 1~

A/N: requested by several folks, behold the result of teasing Dream at a masquerade ball- 5K of banter and filth! 🤩Hope y'all enjoy, comments feed my soul <3 tagging @fangirlmary

Warnings: smut (they get kinda rough wink)

~~Masterlist~~ ~~Current WIPs~~~

Morpheus carried us back to the Dreaming in a whirlwind of sand. The minute our feet hit the floor of the throne room, I was the one pressed against a cool pillar of stone, with Dream so close he filled nearly my entire field of vision. One of his hands remained latched onto my waist while the other scrabbled at my wrists, holding them in an iron grip and pinning them to the pillar above my head. My breath caught in my throat and a rush of heat swept through me to settle in my throbbing core. I could see every sparkle in the corners of his eyes.

Morpheus slid his nose behind my ear, inhaling deeply while his teeth scraped at my jawbone. I shivered at his closeness; there was no way he didn’t feel the goosebumps pebble my flesh beneath his fingers. He was one or two teasing moments away from completely losing control, and then there would be no stopping him from having me however he wanted- which just so happened to be what I wanted. Once that steel grip on his composure shattered, there was no going back until he was sated. One had to either buckle down and weather the storm, or hang on and go for the ride.

His mouth attacked my neck with abandon, kissing and sucking and biting around the silver chain of my necklace. His tongue laved over the indents left by his teeth; I knew my neck would be a watercolor painting of reds and purples by the time he was done. I gasped and tilted my head back, felt Dream’s smug chuckle against my skin. I cried out and my knees buckled at a particularly hard bite, his hand around my wrists holding up most of my weight.

“Exhausted already darling?” he taunted with more than a hint of arrogance. His grip around my wrists became even tighter- I knew there’d be a bruise. “Well we can’t have that. Perhaps you should take a seat.”

Another stream of sand swirled around us, and we were up on the dais of his throne. Dream lowered me into the seat with an easy, graceful strength that was beyond arousing, my wrists still firmly held in his hand and pressed almost uncomfortably into my abdomen. His cloak trailed down the stairs behind him. The soft glow from the flames at the edge made him look like the first sliver of night creeping out of the sunset. Once I was fully seated, my skirts fanning out to the floor in a waterfall of shimmering blue and silver, his hand slid up from my waist to the curve of my breast. His touch left fire in its wake as he traced where it swelled over the neckline of my gown. My chest heaved with every breath, pressing my breast even more firmly into his hand.

“Such exquisite beauty,” he murmured, his voice scratchy with lust. I swallowed hard and leaned forward, pushing back against his hold so that my fingers could brush over the bulge in the void of his trousers and give the tiniest squeeze. Pinpricks of silver burned in the center of his eyes and a soft snarl of warning ripped out of his throat. He may have been closer to the point of no return than I thought. The corner of my lips lifted up in a tiny smirk.

I decided to press my luck. I flowed to my feet and used his hold on me against him- I turned the two of us and used my momentum and body weight to push him down onto his throne. He huffed on impact, a sound that I eagerly swallowed in a demanding kiss. He freed my wrists and his hands sank into my hips like claws. He yanked, and I stumbled closer to the throne, my hands bracing on the back of it, caging his head between my arms. At the same time, Dream had slid himself forward to the edge of the seat, slotting one of my legs perfectly between his.

With an almost feral groan, he jerked his hips towards me, trying to get whatever friction he could against my leg. His eyes fluttered shut, and his pink lips gaped just slightly as he ground into my thigh. The layers of mist-like skirt bunched up more and more with each thrust. His breath came in harsh gasps, catching in his throat when he felt my hands in his hair, alternating between smoothing strokes and insistent tugs. Dream nipped at my chin in retaliation, so I just tugged a little harder. Two could play at that game.

I splayed my hands across his chest, the material of his shirt smooth and warm beneath my palms. He leaned back at my gentle insistence, letting his head tilt back to reveal his neck. I licked my lips without really thinking about it- I wanted to bite and mark that flawless marble skin, tease him with lips and tongue and teeth until the proud king begged for mercy… but there would be time for that later. I nudged his legs apart with mine and stepped closer.

“You seem terribly tense, my lord,” I cooed with a teasing smile, my hands braced on his thighs as I slowly sank down to my knees before him. My dress flowed behind me like a snowdrift flecked with silver and gold, shimmering in the moonlight of the throne room. My knees complained at the contact with the stone floor, even through layers of my skirt. I saw Dream’s eyes go even wider, grow even darker, saw his long fingers tense and clench around the armrests. The red and silver pigments in the corners of his eyes shimmered and added even more depth to the black hole of his gaze. Oh yes, he was definitely into this.

“Please,” I dangled the word temptingly in front of him. It was an insistent plea, almost an order thinly veiled with politeness, as my hands slid up his legs to the waistband of his trousers. “Allow me.” I held his gaze as my fingers slipped under the waistband and unfastened it. The slide of the void silk against the stone sent a shiver down my spine, and Dream’s ferally wrecked expression made my cunt positively ache.

Still holding his gaze with mine, I reached into his pants and gently took his cock in my hand, not moving, just letting it rest in my grasp and soak in the warmth of my skin. The tiniest choked moan slipped out of his mouth; I could tell he was trying to hold back, trying to appear aloof, trying to convince the both of us that he was unaffected by my teasing. “No need to be quiet,” I purred, “Let me hear how good it feels.”

I let go and slowly brought my fingers up to my mouth. I gave him a smoldering look through my eyelashes as I made a show of putting each one in my mouth and wrapping my tongue around them to spread the wetness. He barely breathed the whole time, but a strained groan slipped past his control. I raised an eyebrow and continued to suck on my fingers. He frowned and groaned again, louder and more gravelly. I smiled at him in praise and released my fingers.

I gave his cock a few slow, even strokes. I can only imagine how the contrast of my warm and wet fingers, and the cold metal of my rings felt on his skin. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, the muscles and tendons in his neck standing out above the high collar of his shirt.

His ragged breathing and clenched hands moved me to take some pity on my poor husband. I quirked a brow at him with a teasing smile and lowered my head, taking just the tip of him into my mouth.

Morpheus growled out a single word in a language I couldn’t understand, but the vehemence behind it told me it was probably something profane. It echoed and rumbled through the whole room like thunder. I chuckled low in my throat- I had earned my moment of pride, and I was just getting started. I wanted him to lose every last shred of control he had, to see the high and mighty façade he had to maintain in the presence of other rulers come crashing down.

I took a bit more of him into my mouth and picked up a gentle, sensual pace, alternating between sucking and swirling my tongue around flesh that felt like steel covered in the finest silk. My teeth lightly scraped over the shaft and I felt a hand snake into my hair and grip tightly, completely ruining the intricate style it had been pinned into. Between his ragged gasps I heard the small, staccato clatter of bobby pins falling to the floor.

His grip in my hair was punishing, and my scalp burned with a sharp pain that had me breathing as deep as I could around his cock in my mouth. When I couldn’t stand the burn in my lungs, I pulled off to nuzzle and kiss the patch of exposed inner thigh. I breathed deeply through my nose, inhaling his scent of musk and stardust, leaving traces of my shimmering makeup on his skin.

I gave the base of his cock little kitten licks while I recovered my breath. A small, impatient noise came from above me, and the grip on my hair once again turned insistent and demanding. I giggled at how needy he was. I’d never hear the Dream Lord beg with words, but he always made his wishes known in other ways, and made it clear he would not be denied.

He gave my hair another tug, harsher this time, a snarl working its way out of him. I looked up and laughed again, an indulgent, purring sound. His eyes were positively blazing, caught between arousal, adoration, and anger at being denied. So, besotted and frustrated. Perfect.

I took him in my mouth again, and there was no teasing this time. I knew exactly what he liked, how to bring him to the peak and make him fall over- or pull him away from the ledge. I took as much of him as I could, gagging slightly as I swallowed around the thick shaft. His wanton groan barely registered; I was too busy concentrating on his other tells- the tiniest hints his body gave that he was close. The slight twitches of his thighs, the erratic pulsing of his cock, the words that forced themselves out from behind his teeth, the clenching of his hand in my hair.

“That’s it darling,” he rasped imperiously, a king finally getting what he wanted after indulging his subject’s impishness. Just a little bit more…

I slowed my pace, letting him slide slow and slick out of my mouth. Morpheus almost choked on his groan of arousal and aggravation. I swirled my tongue around the head once more and left a feather light kiss on the slit for good measure before letting his cock slip completely from my mouth, red and dripping. He shivered at the sudden cold air on his heated flesh, and his cock twitched, as if begging me to come back. I gave him a smug, daring smile.

Morpheus surged to his feet, faster than a striking viper. In the same moment, he practically hauled me to my feet by my hair, the even sharper pain wrenching a cry from my lips. His other hand immediately had my neck in its grasp, squeezing threateningly. I choked on my next breath, a startled gasp slipping past my lips. Hiss-like breaths came in and out of his nose at a frighteningly even pace. Thunder rumbled ominously, somehow confined to the throne room. The shadows crept in, surrounded him, the flames at the base of his cloak glowing even brighter. He was the burning center of a black hole.

Oh fuck he was angry. Oh fuck I was in trouble. Oh fuck it was HOT.

His eyes bored into mine as he drew close enough for me to feel his cock pressing into my abdomen, impossibly hot and hard. “Is teasing what you wish for, my star?” I didn’t hear his strained and rumbling growl so much as felt it land on my lips, felt it resonate inside me. Ancient and eldritch with all the gravity of a collapsing star.

I squeaked in surprise as he shoved me almost contemptuously onto the throne. My head was spinning from the mix of fear and arousal- I knew Morpheus wouldn’t hurt me, I knew I was safe with him, but every time we played rough, I was reminded of just who he was, what he was, the power he had at his command.

And every time I had that realization, it shook me to the core. Now I knew how early humans felt in the presence of forces they couldn’t control, or even begin to understand. Incredibly small, vulnerable, adrift.

With a wave of his hand, my wrists were bound to the armrests with lengths of black silk, the ends fused with the stone rather than tied off. I struggled and strained against them, tiny whimpers bubbling out of my lips. There was no way I was getting out of them, and there would definitely be a mark.

Morpheus stalked toward me, his form barely distinguishable from the shadows that darkened the room. Wind gusted around us, the light from the flames of his cloak casting the angles of his face into flickering darkness. This was the Nightmare King, the most inhumanly terrifying and awe-inspiring creature any mind could comprehend.

And I held his full attention, I was the focal point of all his rage.

I barely breathed as he towered over me. With an imperious flick of his hand, the skirts of my gown vanished into mist and stardust and flecks of ice along with my cape, leaving me with just the bodice and my jewelry. A tiny noise slipped out as my burning and aching core made contact with the cold stone beneath me. He braced his hands on my thighs, nails too sharp to be human leaving indents. Shit he wasn’t playing.

“Then… you shall have it, in abundance.”

In one fluid motion, a tidal wave of darkness, my hips were yanked up and forward, straining my bound arms, and Morpheus dropped to his knees to bury his mouth between my legs.

I shrieked from the ferocity with which he attacked my core. His tongue moved sinuously inside me, his teeth scraped at my clit, I could feel his deep, heavy grunts against my flesh. It felt so good it hurt. It hurt so much it felt delicious.

I caught the smug glow of his silver and black eyes as my head fell back, thumping against the back of the throne. My desperate moans and cries bounced and echoed around the room, the vaulted ceiling above me somewhat hazy like a mirage. Lightning was coursing through my entire body. My fingers gripped the armrests tight enough to crack my nails against the stone even as my arms strained against the silk that held them captive. At the rate he was going, I was going to come almost embarrassingly fast.

Just when that bliss was two or three quick flicks of his tongue away, Morpheus stopped, just breathing against my core for a few painful seconds that seemed to last forever. His breaths bathed my clit in ghostly heat, and a shiver wracked my body from my head to my toes. I panted for breath and swallowed hard around a frustrated groan. “Fuck-” I choked.

Morpheus chuckled- deep in his chest, just a little sadistic. “Something wrong?” he taunted in a low purr. His eyes left my face in favor of staring at my core, watching another pearl of wetness slip out and stain the seat of his throne. The man knew just what his voice did to me, and I could practically see the gears turning in his mind.

“Dream-” Whatever words I was planning on attempting to get out morphed into another groan of rapturous agony. His mouth was back on me, licking and sucking and nibbling and mumbling words into my core in a language I couldn’t understand. His words vibrated with power, his voice rippled through me and my legs started to tremble. My cries became watery and almost desperate, I was so close-

When he pulled away again I screamed, an almost primal sound of frustration. “Fuck!” My arms were shaking, my lips dry and chapped from trying to suck as much air into my lungs as I could. He had promised me teasing in abundance, but this was starting to edge towards cruelty.

Dream’s eyes flitted back to my face. He gave me a positively shit-eating grin while biting into my thigh, worrying the flesh between his teeth. It was feral, almost monstrous, the red and silver around his eyes were blood and moonlight. I wanted to bite and kiss that stupid grin off his stupid face. I wanted to prostrate myself at his feet.

“Yes, my love?” He released the bit of my thigh he had been sucking on to watch the skin turn red, a low rumble of desire shivering through the base of the throne. I panted to catch my breath and swallowed hard, using those few seconds to try coming up with something witty to say, but my mind was in a haze of darkness and lust and silver mist. I could only glare half-heartedly at him.

Dream laughed again, full throated and somewhat mocking, which only made me glare harder and struggle more against the restraints. I felt the burn of tears behind my eyes, felt my glare lose its strength as my lips wobbled. Slowly, carefully, he stood and gently caressed my cheek, a sharp contrast to only moments ago. I let out a shaky sigh and leaned into his touch. “Shall I take pity on my dear wife?”

I willed myself to meet his gaze- his eyes were still bottomless pits, but there was a warmth and a softness to them that hadn’t been there a moment ago. He was checking in, making sure I was okay. I chuckled, the sound carrying just a hint of contempt. I had almost reached my limit, but was in no way ready to concede.

I swallowed hard and gave him a playful grin, baring my teeth with a little nod. “I thought you were just getting started.” Dream’s eyes lost all their warmth and once again hardened into unfeeling obsidian at my answer. The hand at my cheek wound into my hair and became demanding as he bent over to kiss me. I sat up as far as I could, as far as the restraints would allow without me hurting my arms or shoulders. He devoured my mouth with his, I could taste myself on his tongue as it claimed every crevice.

His other hand slipped between my legs, and I whimpered when two fingers lightly brushed over my entrance. “You’re positively dripping, my dear,” he crooned into my mouth. I moaned again, breathy and pleading. One of those fingers drifted upward to tap on my clit, the touch soft as a falling feather. I squeaked and jerked into his hand, drawing another self-satisfied chuckle out of him.

“Now now, my love,” he chided darkly, letting his fingers slip back to my entrance. His voice lowered even more as he murmured in my ear, “It is time for you to reap what you have sown.”

His fingers slammed deep inside me without any warning. I writhed and jerked away with a sharp cry. I sucked a breath in through my teeth only for it to come right back out as another shout when those glorious fingers stroked that one spot deep inside me that set my entire body alight.

His strokes were fast and hard, quickly fanning the flames of my lust back to a raging inferno. The underside of my skin positively burned; I was surprised there wasn’t smoke leaking out of my pores. My hips jerked and twitched to meet his movements, I could feel his bottomless eyes piercing all the way to the center of my being.

He quickly worked me back to that peak. My breaths were shallow and fast, most punctuated with a pathetic cry. I felt a tear leak out of my eye. Dream’s hand was still tangled in my hair, and his thumb immediately wiped away the little drop. “That’s it,” he rasped, “Just take it. You are so beautiful like this…”

I screamed as his fingers once again found the spot that had me seeing stars. “Dear Go- fuck!”

“Try again.” It was a command, a warning. Dream’s fingers immediately stopped, plunging into me one last time and spreading my walls. He held completely still, waiting for me to comply. I could feel my inner walls fluttering, trying to clamp together, but Dream’s incredibly strong fingers firmly held back the tide.

I breathed as deeply as I could, swallowing a few times as I prayed for my voice not to crack pathetically. I willed my tears back, tried to still my limbs that shook with pleasure and frustration. Did I concede, or test the waters one more time…

I moved my hips in a single, tentative thrust against his fingers. With a scoff, Dream yanked his hand away from my core. I wailed in despair.

Morpheus quirked a brow at me as he licked my essence from his fingers, still waiting for me to comply with his order. I moaned, my pelvis jerking towards him as if he were the pied piper and I was under his spell. “Do not keep your king waiting.” His words were taunting, but I could feel the edge of anger and threat under them against my skin.

A tiny noise of surrender slipped out before I could stop it. “Morpheus,” I whimpered, “Please…”

“Please what?” he goaded knowingly. His eyes lost some of their coldness; he apparently had had enough of the teasing and tormenting as well.

I gulped. My voice was trembling and watery. “Please let me come…”

A satisfied smile spread across his face, except this one was devoid of his previous arrogance and coldness. He pressed his lips to mine in a languid, sensual kiss. “Of course, my dear,” he purred slowly.

Another whirlwind of sand, gentler this time, and we were in our bedroom. Our clothes had vanished in transit; all that remained was the color around Dream’s eyes, and my opal and moonstone necklace. The night sky of our room made the jewels gleam, the stars reflected in Morpheus’ eyes.

I was surprised to find Dream laid out beneath me, his hands gently massaging the swells of flesh at my hips. A hint of that kingly arrogance was dancing around his face again, at the corner of his lips that were twitched up in a devious smirk. “I said you could come,” he goaded, “I never said I would be the one to make it so.”

Strong hands guided me up onto my knees then lowered me onto his cock. My face scrunched up as a cry wrenched itself out of me and mingled with Dream’s raspy groan. “Now then…” he bucked his hips into me and commanded in a low breath, “Make yourself come on my cock.”

“Fuck-” the one word was a breathy gasp as I started to move. My cunt was almost numb from the pleasure, but still ached for release. Dream still had a death grip on my hips; I could already see bruises forming from earlier. My fingers clenched in the sheets, drawing my eye to the red and purple marks on my wrists from his hands and the silk restraints. I shuddered, Dream moaned loudly as I clenched around him. My necklace moved and writhed with me, the opal catching the light and reflecting it back in small, pale rainbows.

I moved my hips faster, ground down harder. I could feel sweat beading on my forehead and pooling in my cleavage. I panted out one breathy gasp after another, my eyes began to flutter shut. Dream reached one hand up to drag his nails down my back while the other tightly held my chin between thumb and forefinger. He growled, “Look at me my love.”

My eyes shot open, and I almost came then and there.

Dream was staring at me as if he had never seen something so wondrous in all his eons of existence. He looked absolutely wrecked, eyes blown wide, hair even more mussed than usual, the shimmer around his eyes just starting to smudge. His kiss-reddened lips were parted just slightly in awe. The tendons in his neck stood out sharp and tense, while the muscles of his abdomen rippled as he continued to lightly thrust into me.

And holy hell, his eyes. Deeper than the furthest reaches of the universe, black not as in void of all color, but rather containing every color of the world mixed together. I couldn’t look away, even when he started to take some control back and urge me to move faster.

I choked, “God- Dream!” and bit my lip to keep back the sounds I didn’t have breath for. Even still, a few squeaks slipped out as I got closer and closer to the bliss that I had been so cruelly denied for most of the evening.

When that nova of ecstasy finally exploded and shattered, I screamed so loudly I was sure I wouldn’t have a voice the next day. Dream kept thrusting up into me throughout the most intense orgasm I can recall having, so strong that my limbs shook uncontrollably and I let out garbled wails as the pleasure began to ebb, leaving caramel-like warmth in its place.

I collapsed on top of him, my arms and legs too numb to hold me up. Dream pressed kisses to every inch of my face he could reach, whispering praises in my ear. His knowing hands gently kneaded into my ass for a moment before tensing into claws, holding me in an unshakeable grip. I felt him throb deep inside me, he groaned as my walls fluttered weakly around him.

Using that inhuman strength and grace of his, along with some of the residual roughness from before, he flipped us and hovered over me. My boneless body sank into the mattress, and my eyes started to flutter shut again. My mind was fuzzy, floating far above the Dreaming on the softest of clouds. “Just a little more, my love,” he murmured in my ear as he wrapped my arms around his neck.

He started to move again. I screamed, high and watery, a few tears squeezing themselves out of my tightly shut eyes. Dream pressed himself impossibly close; I couldn’t tell where he began and I ended. He grunted in my ear, the sound slightly muffled by the sheets. I wanted to thrash and writhe into and away from the sensations that were well past the line of too much, but my still-fuzzy mind rendered my body capable of only small jerks and twitches.

I whimpered pathetically, his every thrust burning and tingling and numbing. He pounded into me with bruising force- I was in the heart of the storm, only capable of holding on for the ride. My arms trembled and shook as I dug my nails into his back, holding on for dear life. Dream let out a ragged gasp as my nails began to slide down his sweat-slicked skin, biting and sucking yet another mark into my already mottled neck.

Morpheus screamed as he came, and the entire palace shuddered from the strength of his release. I weakly writhed and thrashed when I felt the flood of heat inside me. Dream sank down atop me for a moment before he slipped out and rolled over to his side. I turned my head to stare at him, and even that small motion took most of the strength I had left. As I stared at him, a giggle bubbled past my lips: he looked thoroughly satiated, almost glowing, and would have been staring at me with complete adoration and wonder were it not for the tiny, arrogant smirk pulling at the corner of his swollen lips. The red pigment on the outer corners of his eyes had smudged, leaving faint streaks across his temples.

I quickly licked my thumb and wiped the streaks away, and somehow there was still some color trapped in the creases near his eyes. He let out a soft hum at my touch and let his eyes flutter shut for just a moment. Before I could let my hand flop back onto the mattress, Dream took its weight in his fingers and brushed his lips over my knuckles. I shivered as a thrill of heat flashed through me; those courtly romantic gestures always got me.

We laid there for a long while, just breathing in time with each other and ghosting our fingers across each other’s skin. Dream briefly touched the opal and moonstone necklace I still wore and murmured, “This suits you, my love.”

I replied with a chuckle, “I should hope so, you’re the one who made it.” As my mind drifted off, I giggled again and murmured, “Cluracan should host masquerade balls more often.” I bit my bottom lip, trying to stem the exhausted, somewhat delirious laughter bubbling inside me, but it was no use.

Dream thought for a moment about my words before sighing in exasperation, but not without a smile. He gave me a look, which only made me giggle harder. Rolling his eyes, he gathered me into his arms and let me adjust our limbs until I was comfortable. I felt the gentle caress of fine sand grains on my temple, and as my heavy eyes closed, I heard Dream murmur, “Sleep well, my star. You win this time.”

#The Sandman #The Sandman fanfic #Morpheus x reader #Dream of the endless x reader #Morpheus fanfic

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fuckyeaharthuriana · 2 years

Text

Create/Bind your own book

I decided to post this on my arthurian blog as I want to bind an actual book of arthurian texts (from Mary Jones´ translations), but this can be done with anything! My first attempt was actually AO3 fanfics, and my second one was an empty drawing notebook with watercolor pages.

This is the 101 How to bind your own book, extra easy version.

What you will need:

Glue for paper (like vynil glue) + a brush to spread the glue

Paper / printer book in booklet form

cardboard (I use amazon boxes I cut down)

a ruler

pencil

a printer

paper creaser / bone folder (not necessary, you can use a ruler too)

thread (waxed thread is probably the best one, but any thread that is hard to break would work)

scissors

awl (or anything that can make holes in paper)

needles (with a big hole, curved needle would be the best one)

a material to use as a cover. I use cotton fabric so I can add some embroidery to it

gauze if you have it, but not necessary

some weights and plastic sheets (I use other books as weight, and plastic wrap = this is just to not end up with glue everywhere)

What is the process (quick overlook of what you should do and in what order):

1) Print your book in booklet format, or prepare your pages (if you are making an empty notebook) (needed for this: printer, microsoft word or a pdf program, paper creaser)

2) Add holes to all your pages (needed for this: ruler, pencil, awl)

3) Sew the pages together and glue the book together (needed for this: needle, thread, scissors, brush, glue, plastic and the weights, gauze if you want)

4) Prepar the cover (needed for this: ruler, scissors, glue, fabric, pencil, weights, plastic)

5) add the book of the cover (needed for this: glue, plastic, scissors, plastic, weights)

the end!

Now let´s start:

1) PRINT THE BOOK + FOLD

If you are making an empty notebook, simply find a paper you like (ex. for watercolor I bought A4 300gr paper) and then bend each single page in half. To bend in half you can use a ruler to check where the half is, or simply fold the paper in half by aligning the borders. You can use the creaser to make a nice fold, here is how to use it (video).

If you want to print a book, you will have to print in booklet format. The easiest way to do that is using word and organizing your document before printing. This is the easiest way to do it (how to link). Remember to add page numbers to your document, it makes it so much easier to check that everything is being printed correctly.

Ideally, you want to organize your book in booklets of 8 pages, but it will also depend on how big your paper is. If you are printing pictures you might use very thick paper (so that the color cannot be seen on the other side). For a fanfic/text, I use 160 gsm paper.

What is a booklet? (link)

Once you have printed each booklet you will have to fold it. Pages in your booklet will go inside one another, so you will fold the first page, which will have page 1 and the last page of your booklet, and so on.

You can use the creaser to make a nice fold, here is how to use it (video).

The booklet will be sewed later in the middle.

Your book will be made of small booklets, all put together.

2) ADD HOLES

The location of the holes depend on the type of binding you want to do, so you might want to check point 3 before adding the holes! Still, the best way to add holes is a pointy metal rode/a hole puncher. The holes need to be small (big enough for a needle), and the best way is to put some foam under the opened booklets so that you don't scratch the table.

You will add holes to all booklets! Like this video shows.

3) SEWING

To sew the book together there are different type of sewing tecniques, I will bring examples of the one I use, as I found it to be the easiest. Also, you can use any needle and any resistant thread, but I prefer to use waxed thread (for bookbinding) and a curved needle. You can find the waxed thread and big curved needle in any bookbinding kit!

this shows the passages till this point plus sewing, it has no words, while this video instead describes and show the type of sewing that I also do.

4) GLUE

Press your book! Leave something heavy on it before the glue!

Any paper glue works great! You can use glue on the spine of the now sewed book (all your booklets put together) to reinforce it. You can also use some gauze (like medical gauze) to reinforce the spine, like this:

5) COVER

Now you will need to create a cover (if you want)! The easiest way is carboard and book cloth (here some examples on how to create book cloth, one here and one here).

Making the cover has always been the tricky part for me, so the best thing I can do is recommending this great video!

#book binding #how to book bind #arthurian feelings #books #tutorial #sort of

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anysin · 3 months

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Fic: Mirage In The Night

For anon requester who wanted a surprise encounter with Jonah/dark!Jon, here you go! I took "Jonah" literally so this has time-traveling Jon. SFW but dark, with a compulsion scene.

Mirage In The Night

Jonah Magnus's house is a modest one, housing one servant in addition to Jonah himself. It's pitifully easy to break in without attracting any attention, and Jon has no problem following the pull of the Eye all the way to Jonah's bed chamber.

He is surprised that Jonah isn't waiting for him already; instead, Jonah is asleep, lying on his side in his small bed. Jonah should already be in his thirties by this time, but he looks much younger, his features soft and delicate, his presence almost harmless. But only almost; the Eye is already present in this man, its influence still not all the way spread into Jonah's mind, but present nonetheless.

Jon walks over to the bed, letting his feet make sound with every step, just to see if he can raise Jonah out of his slumber. But Jonah remains still, and Jon sits on the edge of his bed.

The Eye is passive, not alerting Jonah to Jon's presence. Jon sits there for a minute, two, longer, until Jonah finally starts to stir in his sleep, brows furrowing, mouth twisting into a grimace. His eyes open up, and flow wide at the sight of Jon.

Jon has to be fast. He lunges towards Jonah, who is starting to turn on his back on the bed, and grabs him by the throat, pinning him to the bed. Jonah's hands snap up, clutching Jon's wrist with tight, panicking fingers, but Jon leans over him, staring him right into those grey eyes, watching as they fill with fear.

"Tell me about your first meeting with a supernatural creature," Jon demands.

At first, Jonah's pulse is fast like a rabbit, pounding against Jon's fingers. But it noticeably, clearly calms down as Jonah's body relaxes against the bed, his fingers going loose around Jon's wrist. His eyes are still full of fear when he starts to talk:

"I was a child, and I had gone to the lake with my family." Jonah blinks fast, as if to fend off the spell that has been cast over him. But he continues to talk, his voice quiet and breathy: "There was another family there too, unknown to us, parents and their two little daughters. Our family chose to stay out of the water, enjoying the scenery of the lake. I was painting my watercolors, as I liked to do in that time. The other family was on the boat, all four of them."

Jonah's other hand drops off, but the other traces its way down along the length of Jon's arm. Jon is not sure what the touch is meant to be, but it doesn't matter; what matters is hearing what he has to say.

"Watching them from the shore, I saw that the little girls were scuffling on their little boat, and the smaller one fell into the water. The father stopped rowing, and all three on the boat tried to reach for the girl in the water. Their boat was swaying from side to side quite a bit." Jonah's hand keeps moving on Jon's arm, and this time the touch is clearly a stroke. "They were trying to pull the girl in the water back into the boat, but something was holding onto her. Something that had turned the water around the boat entirely black."

Fingers latch onto Jon's elbow, holding him tight. There is still fear in Jonah's eyes, but also that cursed curiosity, fascination.

"The boat was swaying harder and harder, and even though I should have been calling for help, my family was surely all nearby, all I could do was watch." Jonah inhales sharply, his grip on Jon tightening. "I watched as the boat swayed towards the black substance in the water, and this time it didn't return to the other side. The boat turned over, and everyone inside, the whole family went into the water."

Jonah shudders, his breath hitching just slightly. But he doesn't let go of Jon.

"Once they were in," Jonah says, "I lost my sight of them. There only seemed to be a big, black spot right there in the middle of the lake, and the boat sank into it too, and they were all gone. Soon, the water turned back into normal, too, and it was as if there was never another family there at all."

There is a harsh yank, and Jon finds himself falling on top of Jonah, still staring into his eyes.

"And according to my family, there wasn't. It was as if only I had witnessed what had happened, seen what was in the lake. I never went there again after that day."

Jonah's grip loosens, and he falls slack against the mattress again. He is a little sweaty, a little out of breath, and he doesn't try to pull away when Jon strokes his hair out of his face, as he enjoys the ripple of the story as it runs through his body.

"That was really disappointing," he says to Jonah. "What an unremarkable story. That was enough to kick off your obsession with hunting down other people's fears?"

"No, that alone wasn't. But it was the first time." Jonah's hand falls away, and while his chest rises and falls in a quick rhythm, as if after a long escape, the look in his eyes is almost- captivated. "Who are you?"

Jon told himself before that he came here to kill Jonah, get his one final answer and kill him.

"Someone you owe," Jon replies. "You'll see all the ways how."

He should have known that wouldn't be enough to sate him.

#my fic #jon x elias

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unagidevi · 2 months

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RORY CASKEY (IBVS OC SHITTY INTRODUCTION)

(i apologize for any misspellings in advance, its almost 1am)

Rory was always a flashy kid, with an interesting sense of fashion and an odd interest in circus folk. Rory adored Clowns, Jesters, and else what. It was a guilty interest, and he even did some outfit-making just to make his clown outfit. It was an easy getaway – with the facepaint – to hide the scar on his nose. He had broken his nose when he was younger, and it had been a little messed up since– the reason for breaking it was his mom, but that was another story.. The small, slender, five foot and five inches teenager with thick skin had recently moved from Florence, Italy- where he once lived in a small apartment - two bedroom, one bath - a comfy area with his father. Rory’s parents had split when he was little, as a child of divorce; he always thought that the problem was him when it came to that stuff. According to his mother, she was fine and all right without an obnoxious child in her life. When his two parents split, he first lived with his mom who was kind of a smoker, and an alcoholic. He always smelt of smoke every time he went to those schools in Italy, always accused of smoking on the grounds or burning stuff during recess. Once his father got custody and him out of that horrible place, he finally felt free. His father let him express himself as much as possible– that was until his stepmother stepped into the sudden picture. She was freaky and a bit suspicious; pretty sure she had a job as an accountant.

Father always bought her little gifts – despite getting nothing in return – back when they were close and still together. Rory was pretty sure he remembered that lady's name as Lesley- or just Les to his dad. Les was a snappy, know-it-all, Pinterest woman; his father seemed to have a type. Rory's father's name wasn’t very brought up – he only worked small jobs to keep their living up in Italy – was Kieran Caskey, a not-very-wealthy, friendly goofball who always knew everyone in their neighborhood. A job offered seemed to pop up somewhere in California, so a flight there would be a hassle, but it was decently paying for somewhere in the United States. Rory always wondered how long they would last in such a shitty place, but he concurred along with his father anyways.

The ride to the US took ages, Rory couldn’t tell if it took 16 hours or days to just arrive there. His father already seemed to manage to find a house for sale along a block, and a nice school that should fit for Rory. Rory packed as much as he could in the bags he took with him, which were his special paints his dad always stored him with, a canvas, a sketchbook with watercolors- and of course clothes and two pairs of shoes. Rory always wore these clothes with these bright colors– especially with his shirts. His favorite was by far his yellow, blue, and red button-up shirt that had colors whirling around. Rory loved toying around the mediums, mostly paint - by favorite was watercolor. Watercolor was so appealing to him in ways he couldn’t figure it, kind of as if it drew to him.

He’d been in the US for about a couple weeks now, and the school was kind of crappy. The name was Foxfield High School, which is amusing because who names a school after an animal and a field? That makes no sense to Rory, in no way possible. The bathrooms were always a mess – what do you expect in boys bathrooms? They are usually the most disgusting shit ever. He’d been called a few names, and wasn’t very social; but he had gone unnoticed by almost everyone around since he came. Just being called ‘Newbie’ or something along the lines of ‘Leprechaun’ a few times from his ginger hair and his origins. It wasn’t very amusing to Rory that he’d been called these names- besides there was a bundle of jocks that would push past him every now and again and call him ‘ginger’, or ‘laddie’, or something of that nature. They were accordingly lead by their one dumb leader who was always picking fights with the other jocks – and had very terrible ideas that USUALLY failed – called Felix Wolfe. His groupees were called The Packe, which was weird because this school had Fox in the name. The school king, which – what the fuck is a school king in the first place – was Edward Quinton. Edward shot Rory a few glares sometimes, nothing really personal, only because Rory was nosy and had to stick his nose into everything.

Today was different, it was slightly raining during the school morning, the sky was clouded and sad with grays and saturated blue tones. Rory walked the halls of Foxfield, doing his best to avoid the groups of people stacking in the halls heading towards their homerooms. The school king kind of guy approached Rory, which was unassuming and awkward for Rory due to his awkward conversations– he didn’t know whether to be scared that he was being nosy again and he needed to be told something or what, but it was strange.

“You.” Eddie spoke with an annoyed tone, Cody and Justin looking at each other with a great big smile on their faces, pretty innocent so far. “You need to come with me.” He spoke a little harshly, but nothing of hate in his eyes.

Rory just blinked a couple of times before opening his mouth to speak. “What do you mean ‘I need to come with you’?” Rory hesitated to speak, his accent still very clear in his voice.

“If you don’t come with us there will be consequences,” Edward threatened, but Rory could tell there was nothing behind that thinly veiled threat.

“...Uh-huh.” Rory responded, kind of looking to the side with his light green eyes, he decided to wear his favorite and lucky shirt today, and it was already like his luck was running out.

Edward started to walk ahead, and until Rory began walking the other guys followed close behind Rory as for no get-away. This was a very strange interaction. Justin picked inside a bag of chips, a quick snack– Rory already picked up this guy would stress eat or something, it wasn’t weird.

Cody laughed, “Oh, we are so going to do this, bro!” Cody looked at Justin who just looked back at him as he stuffed his face with the fries.

Edward shooed the jocks off after they arrived at a place with conveniently not many people around, and gave Cody and Justin a look which sent both Jocks heading for the door, guarding it as if they were some sort of knight.

“Do you know of the supernatural? The strange?” He picked at Rory, furrowing an eyebrow as his brown eyes directed at the green-eyed, ginger boy.

“Not really.” Rory shrugged, “I think you’re reading too many fantasy books.” Rory accused.

“Are you sure? Because I am pretty sure I saw you at a specific park, a specific time, walking through some graffiti on the wall.” Edward retorted quickly, his eyes a little more with annoyance as the flashy boy just stared.

“What ‘specific’ park, and time – and what are you on about?” Rory hated to admit that he did something in the open he shouldn't have, and being accused of it so quickly was weird. He really just needed to get on the other side of town for an ice cream.

“Oh my god.” Edward brought a hand up to pinch two fingers on his nose. “It’s like dealing with Ink all over again.” He muttered coldly.

Rory almost forgot everyone had a nickname from the school king- everyone but Rory.

“What’s your name?” Edward asked, pulling the hand away from his face, putting his hands on his hips.

“...Uh, Rory Caskey.” He responded with a hint of worry as he winced at the sound of his name in his own voice.

“Oh, Amusing,” A voice said, hanging around the bleachers – coming out of the back of them with a decorated bag and a put-up hairstyle. He had beautiful yellow eyes, and a freckled face.

“Really, Ink? Do you always have to show up?” Eddie grumbled, looking towards the casually-styled teenager

Conveniently, Isaac just smiled with a tilt of his head. “I was bored.” He stated simply. “Was this kid part of your intuition?” He asked so calmly, as if it was normal.

“Kind of,” Ed responded simply, “and I caught him using his powers.”

“Oh, fun,” Isaacs yellow gaze turned towards Rory. Rory couldn’t help but give a sour expression, “He’s not scary, more of a loser.” Isaac stated, “You’ll be fine.”

“...Uh huh.” Rory gave an awkward smile, his shoulders tense as he was being accused.

“As I was saying,” Edward started again, “You are the, or well - a supernatural, you’re one of us.” Eddie opened his arm to hold it towards Isaac who gave a grimace and lightly swatted his hand away, then at himself. “I’m Edward Quinton Or Error. This is Ink–”

“Yeah, thanks Error, I can introduce myself.” Isaac scoffed.

What was this? Some Disney movie? This was stupid, this conversation and all. Rory's ears felt hot with embarrassment as these guys apparently called themselves ‘just like him’. Who did they think they were?

“You said you were Rory Caskey?” Eddie tried to crack a smile. “How does Casket sound?”

“Woah, isn’t that not a friendly name.” Ink rolled his eyes, “What name is Casket? You put dead guys in a ginger boy?”

“Ink, shut… the fuck up.” Eddies hands balled up as he shot a glare towards Beamer.

“I kind of like it?” Rory spoke, it was somewhat better than something like ‘leprechaun’.

“To show you we are nothing like the FBI–” Edward started

“Or men in black,” Ink added, “I’ll show you my power, you can explain yours. Hmm?” Eddies' cracked smile only got more jagged as it felt awkward, but least to say he was excited to hear about it all.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to–”

“Shut the fuck up, Ink.” Edward glared.

Rory looked between the two, they felt as if they were an old couple fighting– not even a couple, or friends for that matter so it seemed. It kind of made Rory shutter with them bickering at each other little bits at a time. Edward took a deep breath as strings shot from the tips of his hands, and dragged a board in front of the door of said room. Rory almost jumped and froze as he watched it whizz past him and drag things so easily as if they had no weight to them.

“Now do you believe us?” Isaac accused, lifting a brow. Obviously he picked up on Rory hesitancy, but it was fast.

“Uh, sure, I guess…?” Rory responded with still tensed shoulders, even more tense with the new information. Lord, Rory didn’t like change- but he could deal.

“Now explain yours?” Edward asked as politely as possible, even if it didn’t come off as so.

Rory hesitated before looking down, “Uh.”

“He doesn’t know you,” Isaac rolled his eyes, “He won’t tell you.”

Rory opened his mouth to speak, but a small whimper came out, then he began talking– “I can walk through anything painted like. Spray Paint on a wall, a large or small canvas, anything with a wink of paint on it I can walk through.” Rory started, that had only been a very first.

Edwards eyes lit with excitement, “what an interesting power.” He whispered to himself, taking a careful mental note.

“There’s another too.” Rory started again, “I can take your memories, and place it into a hologram– but not really a hologram?” He stuttered, tripping over his words already. “They are like a screen of watercolor paint, kind of printing your memory onto real life ground.”

“Convenient, he responded.” Isaac said with a monotone voice. “And he’s already got both powers.” Isaac looked towards Edward who was taking a mental note of everything just said to him. “Do not ask this guy–”

“I’m starting a supernatural club,” Edward started briskly, “Do you want to join?” He offered. “It’s labeled IBVS–”

“A very lame name,” Isaac added. “But a needed abbreviation.”

The ginger boy shrugged his shoulders, “I-I guess?” He stumbled over his words a bit, but he agreed anyway.

“Are you dudes done there?!” Cody called, “Teachers are getting sus-pic-ious!” He said suspicious very slowly, but it was obvious what he was trying to do.

#ibvs #isaac beamer versus the supernatural #rory caskey #devs ocs #dev rambles like a lunatic #cory #edward quinton #isaac beamer

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kalechipslives · 8 months

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sorekara setting design

Here are some notes on the development of SOREKARA's style and presentation. If you couldn't already tell, SK takes a lot of inspiration from 70's/80's anime, Nobody's Boy Remi being the reference point for much of it. I've always respected Dezaki for his monumental work so I've always wanted to pay tribute to it (especially the early stuff). I don't think I was as successful as I'd like to have been, but alas! There is still more to come! So without further ado!

I was just talking about Dezaki , but now I shall talk about something completely different. To set the tone, I created the cat and the trolley setting first. The Girl's design should be plenty obvious (lol). But the background here I paid special attention to... I find the paints of Night on the Galactic Railroad to be very unique. They have a line less, airbrushed quality to them that blends in surprisingly well with the characters. I did some research and studied 児玉喬夫 Takao Kodama's work, as they were credited with setting design for this film as well as Genji Monogatari. Actually, if you look at Genji Monogatari's backgrounds, they have the exact same airbrushed quality! I had never done a background like this before (I am certainly not an environmental artist) but I think I did a fairly good job of it.

...I immediately switched gears and without thinking, went back to Dezaki works. I can't say I was very faithful at all. The night sky is easy to paint, with it's notable color spray and paint blots, but I diverged quite a bit with the watercolor textures. Shichiro Kobayashi is the artist I looked to the most, and this project made me appreciate him more than ever before. Just looking at his paints gets me emotional... The vibrant colors, the dramatic angles, you can just feel his reverence for life overflowing from the work. There really isn't anyone better. I need to study more if I'm to capture even a fraction of his skill. That being said, I did make sure to animate the backgrounds slightly with the sparkles on the water-- The reflection of light on water is my favorite to draw! Also, flowers are a very important motif (for various reasons, ohohoho). Kobayashi seemed to love drawing flowers, the paint around the edges give is a delicate look. Actually, if you look at the textbox...

Instead of full-color CGs, I opted to use "postcard memories". This was a technique Dezaki used where he would show a detailed, scratchy-lined illustration to highlight important moments instead of fully animating them. It creates a really memorable image that draws out all of your emotions! I tried to emulate them (the more single-toned ones, that is) for the game. It was 1/3 Dezaki worship, 1/3 time-saving technique, and 1/3 excuse to draw lots of scratchy lines. I love scratchy lines. This way, I could make a lot of memorable shots that were visually interesting without overworking myself.

As another note, I looked to Akio Sugino's character art when drawing. The characters don't really look like Sugino characters, but I was emulating his shading technique with (once-again) the scratchy lines. Ah, I was in heaven. Looking at his older work, the linework is hardly ever clean-- but the rough, hand-drawn edge gives everything a tactile quality and the strong anatomy makes everyone so gorgeous. It's like an engraving come to life.

Finally, the anime effects! On the left you can see soothat before his values are adjusted (very dark, isn't he?) and on the right you can see he is in-game, values adjusted with a more appropriate "anime" look. This is because anime cells are put onto a CRT screen, so they end up looking very different. I created an auto action in CSP to adjust the color grating and line quality of every asset before popping them into the game for the chromatic aberration to take effect. The lines are slightly crunched a blurrier compared to the original. It gives it a more "physical" look. The colors are fixed up-- you'll see there is no pure black. If you look at a physical anime cell, you'll see they more often than not do not include pure black. There is usually a tint of green or red in there.

The chromatic aberration filter... I don't know how noticeable it is to the average player, but the game actually has a built-in filter that creates a slight "chroma" effect to emulate the look of frames through a crt/light. This means the red + blue + green values of the entire screen are split up and adjusted to layer slightly off from each other, giving it a little visual interest. It was AN EXTREME doozy to put in, with my poor programmer coding it and re-coding it until the end. It seemed simple at first, but there are parts where the game zooms in which totally broke the filter! It made out eyes bleed! But it was repaired in the end, so blessing upon you, Sandy. You saved my life.

The reason why I looked to Ie Naki Ko/Nobody's Boy Remi specifically is because that's where I feel the most "pure" energy from. It is a show that leans incredibly hard on it's techniques to get by but because of that it really embodies what I love about old anime-- It has a selfless reverence for its subject that drives you to watch and surrender your heart. Dezaki's powerful directing, Sugino's gorgeous drawings and Kobayashi's majestic paintings come together to make a work that shines. The setting is truly at the forefront with the characters getting lost in the grandeur. That's the attitude I had with SOREKARA: "There are things much greater than us, so isn't it wonderful that we are able to see them side-by-side?" There are many animation techniques that are cost-effective while still being utterly beautiful, I would love to copy them someday but I wasn't able to go that far yet. At least not in the demo. There's still time, I suppose... Studying limited animation from old anime is actually extremely useful when creating visual novels. Understanding the placement of cells and their layering/movement has given me even more ideas for stories!

I ended up going on a rant about anime again ^^" But it's so beautiful, you must now understand my heart going into the work. I always think of my characters and their journey, of course, but before that I think of the setting. I want the player to experience beautiful and mysterious things alongside their traveling companions. There is still so much more to make. I hope to incorporate more Dezaki-style techniques in this and future works. Please remember the true message of my works.... Not that love finds a way, or that your connections can transform your world...it's that....anime is very, very cool.

Thank you for reading 🙇🏽‍♂️

#game dev #sorekara end of a journey #visual novel #vn dev #indie dev #dev diary #osamu dezaki

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blueskittlesart · 1 year

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do you have any painting tips for a mediocre painter

depends on what kind of paint you're working with lol! i tend to work with either acrylic or traditional gouache (last painting i posted was gouache!) but i'm a known hater of oils and watercolor lol. gouache is probably my favorite paint medium because it's pretty versatile and easy to use imo! but acrylics are significantly cheaper. there's not a lot of difference in my technique when painting w acryls vs gouache actually so i can just give you some general tips ig?

have a decently large jar of water on hand, even if you're working with acrylics. clean your brush CONSTANTLY, even when you feel like you don't need to. if you're working with high-quality heavy body acrylics (which i recommend, they're more expensive than the cheap craft store brands but they're WAY better quality. i use liquitex heavy body acrylics) the pigment is a lot more saturated within the paint, but that also means that the paint is a lot thicker and won't lay smooth unless you have some water on your brush. (note: your brush shouldn't be SATURATED with water because that will effect the opacity of your paint, but it should never be bone-dry either!) wetting your brush also helps your bristles stick together and keeps your lines looking smooth!

for something like gouache, i usually start with a watered-down underpainting. this isn't as necessary with acrylics, but can still be helpful. Gouache isn't perfectly opaque, and if you're using traditional gouache it's water-based and will merge slightly with the colors below it when wet. a single-color underpainting can help unify your colors this way, and it's really easy to do! just pick a color (i usually go for a dark blue or pink, but it depends on the colors of your piece) and water it down until it's about watercolor consistency, and then just brush it over the entire piece!

as for brushes, i have 3-4 brushes that i normally use: a hard chisel tip brush, a large soft round brush, a smaller soft round brush, and a script liner brush. the chisel tip is good for blocking in big details early on because it allows you to cover big areas but still has the potential for detail. the large soft round brush is mostly for underpaintings but i will occasionally use it for larger areas on bigger pieces. the smaller round brush is what i use to get most of the details in. it's got about a 4mm diameter and still comes to a nice point at the end so it's useful for a lot of different things! for really tiny details, that's where the script liner comes in. this brush has about a 2mm diameter with 1cm long bristles, so when used properly it gives you a very thin line with a lot of control. this brush was probably the hardest to learn how to use but it's really the mvp whenever i work with gouache lol!

other than that all i can say is practice! learn the properties of your chosen medium--how it blends, how it dries, whether it can be reactivated, how it mixes, etc, and use what you learn to your advantage! i spent a large portion of my high school years taking traditional art classes where we painted a TON and my skillset definitely improved because of that practice alone!

#also. painting is unfortunately one of those things where the materials you use really do matter #invest in good acrylics. invest in good brushes. you will be thankful you did #i would say invest in good gouache but im still using the cheapest gouache i could find at the school store so. lol #asks

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eternalshadeart · 4 months

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I've been doing digital art for almost 2 years now, with little to no practice on actual paper for these 2 years, and that got me thinking did I Lose my touch with traditional art, Haven't picked up an actual paint brush in so long. Its easy to get lost in the vast possibilities that digital painting softwares offer, ranging from hundreds of brush textures, to tools to make your shaky lines smooth, making the perfect circles, filing a solid colour in an instant.

Where you absolutely dont have to wait for your oils or watercolor to dry up before going for the next layer, and most importantly no need to spend dollars on art supplies and if you make any mistake the undo option is always there for you.

It did make painting easier in a way, but it also comes with its own cons, when I started digital painting I felt like I had to learn from scratch how to use the particular software, and had to learn to paint all over again. Tho it catches up quick but still figuering out how to use each tool, how all the functions, brushes, layers, blend modes work. It does take some time.

Nevertheless I ventured from my point, so since I've been painting dgitally for 2 years I figured its time to indulge in some traditional work, touch base and see If im still worthy.

I tried painting a couple of small canvas and got stuck figuring out what to draw, to have the exact outcome planned out because if I decide halfway through coloring my background that I dont like how it looks, I dont have a ctrl Z to help me this time, I'll have to paint over the whole thing and start from scratch. Painting on the canvas directly is a commitment and theres a looming pressure that the outcome should look beautiful and completed, and I already have enough anxiety, not really excited about been anxious about the thing i love.

One warm afternoon I picked up a tiny notebook I had, bought it on a whim last year and it has been sitting on my shelf since then, its a 4"x4" pocket notebook with decent paper quality, perfect to try out the random black gel pen I found lying around. And I got to it, found a cozy warm place and made a small pen sketch of a tree. The texture looked nice, i did mess up a couple timeson the leaves but since its just a disposable paper I didnt worry much on it, just covered it up with more scriblings. It felt pretty good, ad I realised with digital art the one thing I'm missing is customisign how I organise and decorate my work collection.

With digital software all your art is stored as mere .png or .jpg or whichever format you prefer, but thats it, its just a photo album, unlike a sketchbook where you can decorate the cover, add a couple of sticker or notes to it, stick a dried flower you found, or just about anything creative.

The overall feel of a sketchbook is entirely different and I dont have to worry about each page looking like a finished work.

I love painting digitally but painting on a sketchbook is almost nostalgic, so I finally started one.

Got myself a small A6 sketcbook with a pretty floral cover,cut out the pen sketch i did and glued it on the first page, and thus started to fill each page with totally random unrelated paintings.

So anyway this was a lengthy way to tell you how painting on a sketchbook somehow made me improve my art, and felt incredibly amazing, tho I've completed just couple pages, each page looks beatifull in its own way, and i got to try out a couple of pens, and paints that I havnt used in so long.

got to try doing simple portraits, tried to double tap multiple times on the page (stupid muscle memory).

so anyway here are a few pages that I have completed, and if you did read till the end, thanks for bearing with the (rant)?

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senp1i · 1 year

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free-form

I had always been fascinated by Chaeyoung's artistic talent. So when she suggested that we have a painting date, I jumped at the chance. I loved the idea of spending a lazy afternoon with her, surrounded by paints and canvases, lost in the creative process.

We decided to set up our workspace in my backyard, where we could enjoy the sunshine and fresh air. Chaeyoung arrived with her sketchbook and watercolors, while I set up a canvas and oil paints. As we began to paint, I couldn't help but feel a little intimidated - I was nowhere near as talented as Chaeyoung.

"Wow, Chaeyoung, your painting is looking amazing already," I said, admiring the intricate details of the flowers she was painting.

"Thanks, Y/N," Chaeyoung said, smiling at me. "But don't worry about trying to make it look perfect. Just have fun with it."

I nodded, trying to relax and let my creativity flow. Chaeyoung was so easy to talk to, and we chatted about everything from music to movies as we painted.

"Y/N, your painting is coming along great!" Chaeyoung exclaimed, looking over at my canvas. "I love the colors you're using."

"Thanks," I said, feeling a little more confident. "I'm still not sure what it's going to be, though."

"That's okay," Chaeyoung said. "Sometimes it's better to just let the painting guide you."

We painted for a few more hours, lost in the creative process. When we finished, we stepped back to admire our work. Chaeyoung's painting was stunning, as always, while mine was...well, it was definitely not as good.

"I think I need a little more practice," I said, looking at my painting with a critical eye.

"Nonsense," Chaeyoung said, smiling at me. "I love it. It's so colorful and vibrant."

I couldn't help but feel a warm glow of pride at her words. We packed up our supplies and headed inside for some well-deserved refreshments.

As we sat on the couch, sipping our drinks and chatting, I couldn't help but feel grateful for this special day with Chaeyoung. We had bonded over our shared love of art, and I knew that this was a memory I would cherish for a long time.

"Y/N, I had so much fun painting with you today," Chaeyoung said, grinning at me.

"Me too," I said, feeling a little sad that the day was coming to an end. "We should do this again sometime."

"Definitely," Chaeyoung said, reaching over to give me a high-five. "Maybe next time we can try a different medium, like charcoal or pastels."

I smiled, feeling excited at the thought of exploring even more artistic possibilities with Chaeyoung. "I can't wait."

-honestly the whole crap she had to deal with this week was bogus. People online have such few braincells its pathetic.

#kpop x reader #kpop imagines #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice chaeyoung x reader #twice chaeyoung imagines #son chaeyoung x reader #son chaeyoung imagines #chaeyoung x reader #chaeyoung imagines

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ipsen · 9 months

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Blank Canvas 12

Read on AO3. IT'S OUT also bumped up the rating to explicit just to not have to deal with the hassle. cw: sexual content, implied sexual assault Summary: Fireworks. Word Count: 8097 Chapter 11 Chapter 13 Master Post

Kaneki stood in front of the door to his and Takatsuki’s room, trying to psych himself up. If it didn’t work out, he could always sleep in Ayato’s room. So he should just go in there and say it.

Sen Takatsuki, you are the most amazing person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.

Not bad, but not clear.

Sen Takatsuki, you are the reason I started posting my art in the first place; I wouldn’t be here without you.

Scrap that one. Also still vague.

Sen Takatsuki, I love you.

Explicit. Straight to the point. Wholly unambiguous. Easy. Right?

His hand stopped short of turning the doorknob.

He couldn’t do this. No, he shouldn’t do this. Yes, ‘get it over with so you can move on’, but wasn’t the mystery part of the appeal? It wasn’t like things were going to change drastically if he said it. Shiono didn’t know what he was talking about; Sen Takatsuki was not head over heels for Ken Kaneki, because Ken Kaneki was a— was a burden.

There, he said it. He was a burden, and he had no value and all the people around him were just a bunch of idiots pretending like he wasn’t. What did he have to offer? Nothing, that’s what. He had nothing. He was nothing. He hadn’t grown a bit from that skinny, scrawny boy who no longer begged for seconds.

And yet.

He stared at his hands, at all the years of washed out graphite and spray paint and watercolors and so, so, so many ideas. This pose, that pose, the lighting of that place, the atmosphere of this sector, idea after idea after idea— all channeled through his fingertips as Haise Sasaki.

Haise was the one who would be on the cover. Haise was the one Takatsuki chose. And Haise was…

Kaneki took a deep breath. He could do this.

He twisted the doorknob and entered.

Takatsuki was leaning against a pillow on the headboard and reading using the lamplight on the dresser. She’d changed out of her day clothes and wore a fluffy white bathrobe in its place. Her lion’s mane of hair was wrapped up in a towel. A quick shower? It was plausible, given the day’s activities. He imagined her, completely stripped down, the water pouring out and streaking down her face and body and how envious he was and he was going to stop imagining it now.

She was mid-page turn when he came in, and when she looked up, she smiled widely. Dangerously. “Not a fan of fireworks either?”

He returned the gesture sheepishly. “Not really, no,” he admitted. “I feel bad for the pets. Growing up, Hide had a dog that always barked and whined whenever they went off in the neighborhood.”

Maru was a scared shiba dog that always hated fireworks festivals. An absolute sweetheart at every other part of the year, but the moment there was a loud explosion, he was set off into a flurry of high pitched cries that tore Kaneki’s heart into pieces. His aunt had always hated him for that.

“Poor thing,” Takatsuki said in contrast. “Their hearing’s a lot better than ours, so I bet their ear drums are shot by then.”

“Mhm…” Kaneki leaned on the doorway, arms folded to try and look… aloof? Cool? But then he stopped, feeling stupid, and closed the door behind him. “Uh, how— how about you? Why don’t you like fireworks?”

“A long time ago, after a night of fireworks nearby, I had the privilege of witnessing a pile of bloody feathers scattered on the sidewalk.” She shrugged. “Didn’t find the body, but it was still pretty nasty.”

His expression softened. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t do anything.”

“N-No, but… It’s sad hearing about that.” He played with the sleeve of his shirt. “You shouldn’t have had to see that.”

“Then I suppose a thank you is in order.” Takatsuki studied him briefly, then patted the space next to her. “Stay a bit?”

Gladly, he didn’t say out loud. He crossed the room and sat on his side of the bed. He didn’t want to make any assumptions. Wait, actually— “I-I should shower!” he said, shooting back up. “I don’t— Um, I sweated a lot today!”

There was a pause. She wet her lips. “Yeah, that’s true.” Her voice was smaller than usual.

He tried to ignore that as he got some fresh clothes. Okay, once he was done, he’d confess. Just blurt it out.

Kaneki shut the bathroom door and twisted the shower handle.

Or maybe he should lead up into it? ‘I have something to tell you’ was a good way of starting. She’d listen to that. Oh, but then she’d be looking at him! That would mess him up. Okay, what else, what else…

He scrubbed his hair with shampoo.

Pass her a note? It wasn’t very confrontational, and he could maybe… No, that was ridiculous!

Conditioner and water swirled around the drain.

Think, think! What would Hide or Touka do? Well, Hide might just grab Takatsuki’s hands and confess— far bolder than anything Kaneki was willing to try. So no.

The shower turned off, and he spotted a second fluffy white robe.

As for Touka, she might have a gift ready or a hug, as well as a hard statement that made her feelings obvious. Kaneki had nothing of value to give. Also no.

He felt the fluffy material between his fingers, and set his clothes aside in favor of the robe. He did put on his underwear, at least; an accident was always possible.

Okay, how about this: he would open the door, like so, and then—

He saw Takatsuki undo the towel restricting her hair. The locks spilled down her back and over her shoulders, still wild, but a bit more weighted. Like how leaves bent when dew slid down their midrib. She took off her glasses and rubbed them with her sleeve; some water had apparently got on them. After she put them back on, she fluffed out her hair again and went back to reading.

Kaneki’s jaw hung open, all half-baked plans evacuating the premises. “Wow…”

She glanced at him. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” he replied a little too quickly. “Nothing…”

He made his way around the bed and sat on the edge, same as before.

She raised a brow. “I don’t bite, Haise.”

“I know, but—“ Kaneki’s gaze flicked around the room. “I just, well—”

“At least get under the covers.” She smirked. “Or is a futon just that much better?”

“A-Ah… I just didn’t want to, um…” He rubbed his chin lightly. “I wanted to give you your space…”

“In a king size bed?” She looked at him. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

“N-No, not at all! I think you’re very smart—” way smarter than me— “I just… I, uh—”

Takatsuki laughed, cutting him off. “I was joking. If you don’t want to explain yourself, I can’t force you. But still, the invitation stands.”

He hesitated, but climbed under the covers from the opposite half, still trying to stay as close to the edge as possible.

Don’t push her away, okay?

… With some effort, Kaneki scooted a bit closer to the middle. She seemed to derive some amusement from his little struggle, chuckling as she turned a page. He rubbed his neck, embarrassed, then saw what she was reading: her copy of The Metamorphosis. Wait—

“It was near your beloved futon for some reason.” She smirked. “I wonder why.”

He tittered. “S-Sorry…”

She swatted away his concerns. “What did I say about unnecessary apologies?”

“Don’t do them…”

“Exactly. Besides, I’m curious to hear your thoughts now; you’ve read this before, haven’t you?”

He nodded slowly. “You know me so well.”

“I would hope I do.” She closed the book and set it aside. “So? Anything new?”

Kaneki, grateful for the familiar territory of literary analysis, thought for a moment. “Well… It was a little strange.”

“How so?”

“I didn’t feel the same way I did when I first read it.” He scratched his head. “I guess… Growing up, I used to feel a sort of kinship with Gregor. The way he wants to continue to please his family, even when his new form prevents him from doing so, how his good intentions make everything worse…” He stopped, realizing what he was implying. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping this on—”

“It’s okay; keep going.” Takatsuki leaned forward on her knees, her eyes glinting with some of the lamplight.

“But it’s not exactly—”

“Haise.” She stopped him. “I don’t mind.”

“Well, I—” He laughed. “I-It’s a little embarrassing to say now…”

She cracked a smile. “We could make a guessing game out of it. I guess, and you tell me yes or no.”

“Haha! N-No, no, I… I can do it.” He wanted her to know too. He wanted her to see. He cleared his throat, and continued. “I… think I’ve mentioned how I was raised by my mother, then some relatives after she died?”

A nod.

“I was… never really treated well. By either of them.” He rubbed his arms subconsciously, nursing bruises that had long since healed. “Whether it was being left alone for hours, or being berated for trying my best at anything— I was shunned for no reason except the fact that I was me. I… I was an inconvenience.”

Her expression was soft, like velvet, watching him tremble under the weight of admission.

“That was why I gravitated toward Gregor’s actions; I saw hope for myself in his vermin form, because at least one of his actions was beneficial to his family. Because then… maybe I could be useful too.”

“Haise…” Takatsuki whispered, reaching out for him.

He held up his hand to stop her. “I, um, don’t think that anymore, by the way.”

“Still.” She moved past the gesture and touched his shoulder. “May I?”

Kaneki looked at her hand, then nodded.

She came closer, and he met her halfway. Her hand glided across his back, and he reciprocated. He quietly rested his head on hers, arms across backs and hands on shoulders, as they stared out at nothing together.

“When I read the story again last night, I didn’t feel the same way,” he continued. “I wasn’t as comforted by Gregor’s family smiling and laughing after he died. I couldn’t— I couldn’t believe how they just left him like that, instead of actually helping him.

Takatsuki’s eyes shone as they focused sideways on him.

“The real tragedy of Gregor is that he never realizes he’s actually been alone the whole time, even when he dies. And I guess…” his gaze flicked over and met hers, “I’ve recently realized I’m not alone.”

She didn’t hold the connection. “I-Is that so…?”

“Y-Yeah…” He faced forward too, clearing his throat again. “Yeah— Oh! How about you? Anything… Anything new?”

A chuckle. “Fair is fair, I suppose.” She traced a path on the book cover with her free hand, watching her invisible handiwork. “To me, The Metamorphosis is a warning.”

Kaneki hummed. The cautionary tale approach— one of many fascinating ways to interpret tragedy.

“Like you said, Gregor’s function in the family is his job. Without it, he and his family would have no income, and they could no longer live in their house. He continues to slave away at said job because he doesn’t want to let down his family.

“However, as it becomes more and more apparent that he won’t be transforming back, his family begins to resent him, and in the end, when he dies, they are apparently much happier for it. The whole ordeal doesn’t even seem to affect them once it’s over. Like a bad dream: wake up, sigh in relief, and it’s over.

“So the question becomes: did they love him at all? Or did they love him because it was convenient?”

Kaneki looked up toward the ceiling. The Asaoka family hadn’t loved him— he’d made peace with that for a while now. But those first few months with them had been a sense of desperately needed normalcy, where he was treated like a person and he could take his mind off his mother for a bit.

However, once his test scores began rolling in, and his aunt saw they were twice as high as Yuichi’s, that normalcy fell apart. He was no longer a part of her family; he was his mother’s shadow, come to haunt her from the grave.

“Gregor and his family make the same mistake of equating ‘love’ with ‘contribution’. Love can certainly cause contribution, but contribution doesn’t connotate love. Like squares and rectangles.” Takatsuki sighed. “Love is a choice. We choose who we love based on who they are, not because of what they can do. And it’s our choices that define us in turn.”

“Our choices define us…” Kaneki repeated softly, then realized something. “Is that why you call me Haise?”

She smiled slightly. “Mhm.” She shifted away from him, and he felt a little cold. “Ken Kaneki is a fun name, I suppose; the character for ‘cut’ or ‘study’, and the same characters as Kanagi, Dazai’s hometown. But it isn’t something you chose; it was chosen for you. Birthdays, birth names, biology— none of it is actually ours. It’s someone else’s will forced upon us.”

He blinked. He’d never thought of it that way. Then again, he had never thought about it at all. His name had always been his name, albeit one given to him by someone that spent more time at her office than with him.

“‘Blood is thicker than water.’ I hate that phrase, and everything it stands for,” Takatsuki continued, scowling. “Why should I care for the circumstances of my creation? Why are those more important than the choices I make because of them? In spite of them? It’s ridiculous, and it bogs down anyone who subscribes to it.

“We never asked to be born. Never asked to live. So why should we respect the people who make us?” She scoffed. “It’s fucking psychotic to think I should favor someone who didn’t actually do anything for me.”

Kaneki looked at her, somewhere in between stunned and fascinated. “So, then, when you wrote The Black Goat’s Egg, the ending was a warning. The double suicide between the mother and son wasn’t supposed to be some tragically beautiful declaration of how one was the only person to love the other, but a cautionary tale on choosing blood on the basis of blood and not deeds.”

“Exactly.” She smiled. “Exactly, Haise. Societal expectations are just so… constricting.”

Expectations… What a heavy word. It was what people wanted from you, what you wanted from yourself. It was the impossibly high image strangers had of you, the bitterness of anonymity… It was made to seem like everything.

Kaneki had always played to others’ expectations, had always danced to someone else’s tune. Even the positive things were born of wanting to please others. From escaping the Asaokas with Hide’s help, to Touka dragging him to learn judo and work at Anteiku, to Rize’s alluring gaze and fateful approach— all reactive circumstances, none of them really of his own making.

Except one.

He hadn’t met Takatsuki yet, so she could not request him to start expressing himself through art, through stories— like how she expressed herself through words. It was one of the few decisions he could truly call his own. In drawing, he could truly feel… free. Free to be himself. Free to express himself.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, they are.”

He always felt like he was pretending, even around Hide or Touka, and he felt horrible for it. For once, he’d just like to be himself, and only his art could truly express that.

Yet, when he put it out there, people still misinterpreted him. Still defined him as something he wasn’t. Though he was glad they had their own interpretations, some beyond his wildest dreams, he still didn’t feel seen. Though maybe that was too presumptuous; the world was so large, and he was just one person living in it.

But Takatsuki had found his art. Called him skilled. Thought him good enough to handle her words properly. Saw him. Him, who saw her in return.

“Um, Takatsuki…” he said.

“Yes, Haise?” Her tone was as tender as a wound.

Kaneki dropped his arm back to his side, feeling colder for it. “I’ve… been keeping something from you.”

Her brow furrowed. “Okay…”

He took a deep breath, then fetched the folder with Noroi’s files in it. He pursed his lips, his grip on the folder just as tight. “I… In Cochlea, when I was alone with Donato, he told me something about you, and I…” He passed the folder over, ashamed. “I haven’t opened this one, but— but I know about the 8th ward. About… About Noroi Takatsuki. And Kasuka Mado.”

She took it, her expression suddenly blank as she looked inside. Noroi’s profile was on top. “So you knew,” she said, all warmth gone. “All this time, you knew?”

“I-I did. And I’m sorry.” He moved so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed and, more importantly, had his back to her. “I shouldn’t have gone behind your back like that; I shouldn’t have let Donato sway me like that, especially after you warned me. I just…”

He trailed off. Just what? What came out of him finding out about this? What purpose had he served by breaking state law to obtain these files? He just…

“I just…” Kaneki’s hand curled into a fist over where his heart was. “I wanted to know more about you.”

He didn’t need to turn around to know Takatsuki’s eyes were watching him. The silence was as heavy as concrete, so thick he might break under the weight. Did she hate him now? Was he going to get fired? Would she report him? It would be so easy for her to; it wasn’t like he could fight back. Her word against his was not a contest, but an everyday slaughter. He had been doomed the moment he opened his mouth.

But no such thing happened. “How’d you do it?” came her first question.

“I got a copy of Donato’s file myself before we examined it together,” he confessed. She deserved to know. “Hide and I went through it and found out about the 8th ward.”

“Hide?” Her brow furrowed. “Your manager?”

Why did he say that? “W-Well, he’s actually just my best friend, not really my manager, but he’s the one who got the file for me. A-And I… He’s always been the investigative type. I wouldn’t have known where to start…”

A hum. Good or bad, Kaneki didn’t know.

“H-He can keep a secret!” he added hastily. “He’ll take it to the grave, I promise! Please don’t hurt him!”

“I won’t.” He heard her close the folder and slide it back over.

Kaneki heard her fling the blanket off and walk until she was standing in front of him. He elected to continue staring at the floor instead of up at her face.

“Why did you stay?”

An easy question to answer— in his head. He reached for his chin. “I-I was—”

Takatsuki grabbed his wrist and threw it away. “Don’t fucking lie. Why did you stay? You could have reported me easily; lots of people in the business would jump at the opportunity to see me fall. The execs might have even been on your side if you played your cards right. If you succeeded, you could’ve even piggybacked off my failure and replaced me, working independently like you want. So why not?”

Now he was confused. “Why would I do any of that?”

That sounded more like cheating than anything. Using public perception of someone else’s failure to bolster his own image? That was just building on a brittle foundation. He would walk on eggshells for the rest of his life. Plus, it didn’t feel right taking advantage of Takatsuki like that.

“Why would—?!” It was apparently the last thing she expected. “Why wouldn’t you?!” She stepped back and gestured to herself. “I’m a murderer, don’t you see?! I killed my Papa because I couldn’t run away like a good girl! I killed Kasuka Mado because I couldn’t dream of a world where I just walked away from the body!! What do you mean you would do nothing?! Why would you waste your time on— on me?!”

It was then that Kaneki realized it, like the final piece of a puzzle falling into place:

They were the same.

People who thought they were burdens, no matter how much they achieved. No matter how much support they were given, no matter how many perfect test scores they got, it was never enough. There were always more expectations, and the highest ones were from themselves. Because they were burdens, alone in their suffering.

So this was how it felt being on the other side. How wretched.

Takatsuki’s hands hung at her side, balled up into fists. She looked like she wanted to say something, but didn’t. Her mouth twisted shut and betrayed her, keeping it back.

Kaneki swallowed, then reached out for one of her hands with both of his. Before he touched it, he looked up at her. “May I?”

Her expression loosened ever so slightly, and she nodded.

He took it gently, guiding her closer. “The Takatsuki I know wouldn’t kill someone without a good reason,” he said, cupping her fist. “Her anger is like a welding torch. It burns hot, but thin— focused— so as to not burn things that it shouldn’t.”

He undid her thumb, then her index finger.

“She’s smart beyond my wildest dreams, and she has a huge appetite. Some days, I wonder what it’d be like to cook for such a gluttonous customer.”

Her middle and ring fingers.

“I wanted to work alone because I wanted to be someone she can see as an equal. Someone who knew as much as she did, and could help her like she deserved. I wanted to be a shoulder she could lean on, so that when she stumbled, she wouldn’t fall.”

Her pinky. Kaneki slid his hand into her exposed palm, feeling its warm and calloused texture.

“I wanted to be enough. More than enough, so that she would need me, so that she could be the best that she can be. So that I—”

He was suddenly pushed on his back, and he gasped. Before he could sit up, Takatsuki was on top of him, straddling him. Her hair slipped over her shoulder in mounds and strands, framing the edges of his vision so that he only saw her. Freckles like the stars, eyes like the moon. He felt the tingle of tears slipping down his cheeks, but they weren’t his.

“Stop it,” she whispered. “Just… stop. You’ve… You’ve been enough. You’re incredible. Wonderful. You don’t need to work alone to be my equal. You don’t— I don’t need more. I just…”

She gripped either side of his bathrobe collar, trembling slightly, and he was helpless to do anything. Or maybe, just maybe, she was trembling for him, sharing his burden— their burden.

“I just… I just want you by my side.” It seemed to take all of her strength to admit it. “Okay?”

“Takatsuki…” he breathed, unable to see or think of anyone else.

“Call me Sen.”

He shuddered. “S… Sen.”

Her smile was watery, and it was real. “Haise.”

It was enough.

Some stories liked to talk about how sweet or delicious lips could taste. Perhaps it was something in lip balm or lipstick, something from the latest meal, or maybe it was just a delirious product of the mind that the tongue concocted against its buds. Sen— Sen— had none of those things, but the pressure, the excitement, that Kaneki— Haise— felt when she pushed back was more than enough.

He wasn’t sure if he had leaned up or she had bent down, or if they had met somewhere in the middle, but all that mattered was that it happened. He had wanted this for so long, and now that it was finally happening, he couldn’t get enough.

It was clear neither of them were very experienced; their heads were tilted at awkward angles and their teeth clacked together enough times to make them laugh between breaths. Haise had forgotten this sensation, this special type of closeness. One of her hands cupped his cheek, stroking it with her thumb, while the other pressed on the bedside and supported her weight.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, encouraging her to push harder against him, feel closer. She happily obliged, leaning on his chest until he was lying down and she was on top, navigating his lips and sighs with her own.

She sunk down until her chest was pressed flush against his, albeit through the fluff of their robes. It crossed his mind to tug on her belt, implicitly ask if she wanted to go further, but his hands went higher and embraced her instead.

Sen had other plans. She pulled back slightly to put one hand on his stomach, gently running it up and down the shape of his chest. He shivered at the pressure, hungrily kissing her all the while. Did it feel good? It should. He should. He knew he should, but something was wrong.

Sen’s tongue pried open his mouth and slid in, and it was like shattering a dam. Kaneki gasped.

(The slimy tentacle probed his mouth, and it slapped away any attempt to reciprocate. It filled him when he yielded, blocked his airways without a care, and he tried to suppress the urge to gag while she took her pleasure.)

The memory of someone heavier on top of him flashed through his mind like the sun across his vision. The softness of the bed was suddenly sucking him in, threatening to swallow him whole, and he panicked. Tight chest, shriveled lungs, and horror. He ripped away in an instant, pushed Sen away, and suddenly found himself on his feet.

(He couldn’t say anything. He shouldn’t say anything. With the way she bit him, punished him, for pushing back, he knew that much. She took and took and took until he was empty, because that was how it should be.)

Kaneki clutched his chest, focusing on a spot in the corner as he heaved for breaths he didn’t need. He… He’d forgotten about that. About those.

(She would tell him she could just eat him up. And she had. Multiple times. Over and over and over, like microwaved leftovers pretending to be fresh, until he was charred from the constant reheating. And he let her. He let her because that was what a lover was supposed to do.)

He felt sick. So, so sick. It must’ve been something he ate, he tried to tell himself, even as his head swam in violet streams polluted with his own blood.

(A beautiful red smile, corners curled upward with venom, said his name. His birth name. And like a harpy’s voice to a sailor’s ear, he succumbed, a fly to a carnivorous plant.)

He stumbled to the sink and held onto the edge for life. He brought one hand to his face and shivered. Why now? After all this time, he thought he was done. He had overcome that, with everyone’s help, hadn’t he? Touka, Hide, Enji, Kaya, and— and—

Sen. He’d pushed Sen off. Was she okay? He let go of his lifeline and looked back. She had landed safely on the bed, fortunately, a little shocked, but otherwise unharmed.

“I-I’m— I’m sorry,” he sputtered. “Are you okay?”

She took her time sitting up on the bedside, and then faced him with a small smirk. “I’m that bad at it, huh?”

He blinked, not expecting the joke. “N-No, actually, I, uh—”

“There are worse ways to be told.” She shrugged nonchalantly, then stood up to stretch.

Kaneki chuckled nervously, his hands on either side of the sink as he breathed. He stared a hole into the porcelain to gain some sense of normalcy. It wasn’t violet, it was steel. Steel was gray, colorless, a monochromatic metal. It couldn’t move except by external influence. It was not a person who pulled on your shirt like puppet strings, luring you into its trap before leaving you and making you question if it was your fault.

He suddenly felt Sen behind him, and her arms hovered around his waist. “May I?”

He took a deep breath, and raised his arms to give her more space. She embraced him and pressed herself against his back: another, warmer thing to ground him. He had always known her to be smaller than him, but when he felt the crown of her head nestle between his shoulder blades, he realized it all over again.

A beat. She snuggled into the fur of his robe with a sigh. “Do you know Kishou Arima, Haise?”

It rang a bell. An accomplished, maybe even famous, officer in the Washuu Task Force. Known for the swift apprehension of high-profile criminals such as the Skull Masks, an old gang in the 13th ward, as well as the Lantern, a high school serial killer, all while still in his youth.

Kaneki’s silence must have answered for him, because Sen continued. “I met him shortly after Dear Kafka was published. It was at my first book signing, and he made an impression.”

He felt her grip on him tighten as dusty memories reared their heads, like a knife’s edge just before it broke skin.

“Back then, I trusted Shiono about as far as I could throw him, so despite his warnings, I gave Arima my card and we met for lunch. I thought he was intelligent and interested in the same things as me. We even had similar familial situations— at least, I thought we did. We started meeting up more and more, and I thought I’d finally met someone who understood me. Someone surrounded by people, and yet all alone in the world.”

Kaneki remembered feeling the same about Rize. She had apparently (and proudly) fled her family situation, and was staying with someone while she figured out the next step. Despite that, her favorite of Takatsuki’s works, before The Black Goat’s Egg released, was The Dropped Box, which lamented the loss of parents and family. She, like him, wore a mask, and he wanted to share his true face with her, who should have understood.

“Despite both being victims of similar systems, Arima refused to compromise his duty within it to try and change it. He refused to sacrifice his precious nepo-baby privilege for what I wanted most from him. He liked the taste of leather that much. Coward.”

Kaneki… remembered feeling the same about Rize. With each thing he learned more about her, she became more impossibly distant, like a bird leaving its nest and migrating for the season. Her responses became curt, her actions biting, and a tired tension filled every conversation. Yet when they were alone, in her bedroom, she’d—

“And then one day, he just… left. Vanished completely from my life. I had to find out for myself that he transferred to a different branch without telling me. No text. No call. Nothing. I was his toy, and he, like a spoiled child, had gotten bored of me.”

Kaneki remembered sitting on the couch, static blocking all thoughts except for the fact that Rize had disappeared on him. Had she skipped town and not told him? Was she dead? Did she just hate him that much? All questions he would never get the answer to, because of a blocked number. And so, all the pain of being thrown away again turned inward.

“Do you know how old he was?”

Kaneki feared the answer.

“Twenty-two. I was dating a pedophile in the Washuu Task Force.” Sen’s smirk sounded as bitter as gall and vinegar. “For a company that likes to ‘uphold the law’ or whatever, their members sure like to break it.”

It seemed the more he learned about the Washuu, the worse they became. Could anyone in that company be trusted with the power they had if they allowed rapists and pedophiles into their ranks? Obviously not, but if not them, then who? Or would there have to be a complete overhaul of the rules?

Too many questions with far too many conflicting answers, so for tonight, in this place away from all expectation and society, he put them aside and focused on what was right in front of him.

Ka— Haise turned away from the sink and faced Sen. “Why are you telling me this?”

She tilted her head with a smile. “Because you’re the same. I won’t pretend to know exactly how, but you’re afraid of being vulnerable again— it’s in your eyes. And when you’re vulnerable, you get hurt, but it’s only by being vulnerable that you can be loved.” She hesitated, but reached up and brushed both of his cheeks with her fingertips.

They came back wet. Seeing this, he wiped his own eyes, sniffling. “Sor—” he began, but stopped himself. “Th-Thank you…”

“Get some rest, okay?” She patted his arm. “You must be tired.”

“I-I…”

She drifted back to the bed, placing her glasses on the drawer and tucking herself in. When she switched the lamp off, the lights outside in the resort bled slightly through the curtains. In the hint of light, Haise saw that she wasn’t really sleeping; she was staring at him with half-lidded eyes. Now that he knew the nature behind all her gazes, he felt a little embarrassed, though ultimately flattered.

His ego crept out of its hiding spot, a little hesitant after being beaten back so frequently. But after Haise climbed under the covers and saw Sen’s winning smile across from him, directed at him, the hero of humility was put on vacation. The beast was allowed to feed, if only for a night.

“G-Good night, Sen,” he said with a small smile.

“Good night, Haise,” she said. “See you in the morning.”

He closed his eyes, trying to get comfortable, but something struck him before he could fall into slumber. A thought so foul and embarrassing, he wouldn’t dare utter it— under most circumstances. But perhaps his ego had gorged itself on too much and was now filling his head with terrible ideas. Or perhaps he had the feeling that, if he didn’t ask now, he’d lose his nerve and things would go back to the way they were: just coworkers.

Coworkers that knew the taste of each other’s lips, but still.

Either way, he turned over, and fortunately, there Sen was, grinning at the sight of him. “Hey,” she said.

“H-Hey…” He glanced sideways into the mattress.

“Can’t sleep?”

“N-Not exactly, but…” He hesitated. “If, um… If it weren’t— I mean, that is to say— If I hadn’t— How far would you have wanted to go?”

There was a long pause as she took a deep breath. “Promise not to laugh?”

“I-I can’t promise something I know nothing about.”

She rolled her eyes, but wordlessly turned over to the dresser and opened the drawer. She fished about inside, then picked something out and slid it between them. Haise felt it for a bit. It was a small thing wrapped in square… plastic? Rubbing it between his finger and thumb, there was a thin circular object within—

Oh.

It was a condom.

He was thankful for the cover of darkness. “Ah.” He coughed. “I, uh—”

“It’s Miza’s,” Sen hastily explained. “She, and I quote, ‘didn’t need them anymore.’”

Right. Of course. That made sense.

“Did you know she wants more kids after the twins? Psychotic behavior, if you ask me, but that’s why I—” She stopped herself, grabbed the condom, and put it back. “Never mind.”

What? Never mind what? The question tugged on his uvula, whining and complaining to be pushed past his tongue. But he held it back— for both their sakes.

“O-Okay,” he said instead, very dumbly too. “So you— with me?”

She covered her face with her hands and groaned. “Yes. With you.” Her voice was adoringly strained, even if she sounded a little irritated.

He rolled onto his back, facing the ceiling. Huh. Sen Takatsuki wanted him. She had a condom and everything. Okay, great. Now the question was: did he do something about it? Should he say something? Probably not, right? Especially after what just happened. Yet, the idea of sleeping with her was… enticing the more he thought about it. And the more he thought about it, the less he could think about anything else.

“So…” he spoke slowly, controlling himself (he was an adult, not a dog), “would you like to? Er, I mean…”

She shifted slightly. “You mean tonight?”

Was that… eagerness he detected? “I-If you want to. I just—”

“Yes,” she interrupted, flinging the drawer back open, then stopped. “If— If that’s what you want, though. I don’t want to make you just because of—”

“I-I want to!” he blurted out. “I-I-I really do, really! I just don’t— I don’t want to hurt you again.”

She giggled. “I’m made of meat, not glass, Haise.” She sat up. “But if that’s what you’re afraid of, then why don’t you be on top?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“If you’re the one on top, you won’t be as afraid, right?” she said, grinning. “You had a claustrophobic response when I climbed onto you, so if we give you space to move around, it should be more okay.”

“B-But what if—”

Sen put a finger to his lips, shushing him. When she was sure he’d stopped talking, she lowered it. “You worry too much,” she said.

Haise wet his lips, relishing the ghost of her touch against his tongue. Just then, an important thought occurred. “W-Wait… Are you, you know… clean?”

She looked sideways, face flushing. “Actually, I’ve— never done this before. I’ve fooled around a bit, but that was a long time ago, and sex was never…”

He blinked. “O-Oh. Then, um…”

“How about you? Have you ever—”

He bit his lip. “T-Technically, I have, but I— It wasn’t so much I did it as much as I was…” He trailed off, pushing away those memories.

“Oh…” She frowned, hearing the implication.

He waved his hand. “I-I’m clean, though. I’m clean.”

She bit her lip, then held out her arms. “Come here.”

He obliged, and they wrapped their arms around each other in a full embrace. “Thank you,” he said.

She pulled back slightly, and pressed her lips against his.

This time was better. They knew more, and with knowledge came greed. He wanted this, he knew now, and as Sen’s hands felt his body through his robe, he knew it felt good.

She flicked her tongue across his teeth, asking for permission, and he gave it freely this time. They tasted each other, begging for more as she dragged him on top of her.

He tugged on her bottom lip slightly, silently asking for her to do the same. When he let go, she tugged back three times as hard, wrestling a groan out of his throat. She understood. She always did.

She let go with a pop sound. “Touch me,” she whispered.

“Wh-Where—” he stammered, but she shut him up with a quick kiss.

“Anywhere.”

Okay. Okay, okay… He softly rested a palm on her breast and pushed tentatively upward.

“Harder.”

He obliged, but only by a bit, still unsure of what she meant.

“Harder.” She was annoyed now. She grabbed his wrist and demonstrated, shocking him. “I’m not fragile.”

Alright. He repeated the forceful motion, and she gasped slightly. One of her legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer. He did it again, this time with the other breast. She hummed into his lips. Music.

Her hands tugged on his belt, asking the implicit question. He made an approving noise and she got to work. He broke their kiss and lunged at the crook of her neck, and she let out a pleased hum. He liked the sound, and wanted more. Oh, but he shouldn’t—

“Go on,” she gasped. “It’s okay.”

“But the others—”

“I don’t give a shit about the others.” She pressed him against her thorax. “Don’t think about anything else.”

Haise would have protested further, but Sen and the haze of lust overpowered it. He sucked on her skin and rolled the flesh between his teeth. He marked a trail from her thorax to her jawline, and she undid his belt to expose his chest.

His muscles tensed at her touch as she explored them, and he arched his back to give easier access. She pulled his robe off his shoulders, helping him out of it and throwing it away, leaving him only in his boxers. She licked her lips.

“Wow…” she uttered. “From a distance, I thought you looked good, but this is— Wow.”

So she was ogling him at the beach. His ego got another sorely needed meal. “Thank you…”

His gaze darted down to her belt, and he stopped short of grabbing it. “Your turn?”

She hesitated. “Well, I…”

“Okay.” He moved in to kiss her again, but she placed her fingers on his chin, stopping him short.

Her breath teased him as she spoke. “No, it’s okay, I’m just— nervous.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Sen’s palm curled into a fist against his chin. “I’m… just nervous.”

“… We’ll go slow.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

Haise sat up to undress her, and she watched him work with bated breath. He slowly pushed the robe apart, exposing her bare chest and panties. She sat up as well so he could slip it off her shoulders, and there was a splash of freckles on either one.

Then, she lifted her arms out, and he saw them.

Scars.

Faded ones, yes, but scars.

Ugly, straight lines upon her wrists and forearms that discolored the skin, interrupted its smoothness with gentle humps like mountains and valleys. The areas were both too dark and too light for the rest of her, giving them an almost artificial aspect. Judging by how clean they were, how even they were, they were intentional.

He discarded her robe, still staring. So that was why she covered up all the time. All the long sleeves in the summer heat, the wetsuit— she was hiding these.

A different person would have asked about them. Maybe even tried to touch them. They would ignore the events around the marred skin, the anguish that broke it in the first place, and the berating from the self that accompanied the aftermath. They would try to disarm a bomb with a needle, hold a conversation that had happened a thousand times before with a thousand different people, and it would explode in their face. All to ask: ‘What happened?’

Haise did no such thing. He reached for her face, brushing aside stinging cheeks, choking tongues, and rusty knives, and said the one thing on his mind: “You’re beautiful.”

Sen frowned. “Haise—”

“You are.” He held her firm. “You are beautiful, Sen.”

She hesitated, but smiled slightly, rubbing her arm. “Thank you.”

He leaned forward, and her eyes fluttered shut as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. With an arm around her small waist, he let her down gently onto the bed.

He kissed her again, harder this time. Then again. And again. With each one, he felt her smile widen.

She eagerly reciprocated, taking from him just as he took from her. Such was life. Such was living, and they would live until they couldn’t live anymore. Though… maybe that wasn’t quite correct; something couldn’t be taken if it was given freely.

One of Sen’s forearms ran up his back, and the light texture of her scars sent a shudder down his spine. She liked it, and repeated the motion, drinking his moans and then streaking red lines down his back.

He pinched her nipples and rolled them between his fingers. He continually applied more force until she arched her back, and took one of them into his mouth. When he tried a similar technique with his teeth, she threw her head back into the pillow.

It was a little intoxicating watching Sen turn to putty in his hands. Oftentimes, he was at her mercy, like when she took him to yet another restaurant he’d never heard of. Having the roles reversed, where Haise was the one in control and she was the one squirming, well— he didn’t hate it.

But then her hand dragged itself up the tent in his boxers, and he nearly crumbled on the spot. She smirked, caressing him from beneath him before wrapping her hand around his length and giving a few experimental tugs.

“Good?” she asked.

He nodded feverishly, not trusting his own voice. The hand massaging her breast trailed down her taut stomach, and he looked up at her before going further. “May I?”

She kissed him in approval. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her panties, massaging her entrance. Before she could even utter the word, his finger entered her. When they curled, she moaned.

They sought out their pleasure as they felt each other, foreheads pressed together and breath clouding their vision. He added another finger, rubbing circles around her and pumping in and out at a steady pace. Her hands dove into his underwear, feeling the real thing, and the raw contact filled him up until all he could think about was Sen, Sen, Sen.

Her hands eventually found the waistband of his boxers and tugged on them. “Ready?” she whispered.

Haise removed his soaked fingers slowly, and she suppressed a moan as they left her. “Ready.”

He sat on the bedside as he slid his boxers off. Sen looked away at first, but changed her mind. Once the condom was on and he turned back to her, he saw her ogling the area between his legs and blushed.

“I-I, um…” He chuckled, climbing over her again.

“Mhm.” She understood as always.

“If it’s too much, let me know and I’ll stop.”

She nodded, spreading her legs. “Ready.”

He took a breath, lined himself up and, slowly, pressed himself against her entrance, stretching her out.

She gasped and clenched her teeth. “Fuck…!”

He stopped immediately. “Are you—?”

She glared at him. “Keep going.”

He did so, retracting and pushing in tandem with her breathing. It wasn’t exactly comfortable for him, either; the wall he was effectively breaking pushed against him instead of squeezing around him. But once he was fully inside, the discomfort passed and gave way to a wonderful heat.

There was a pause. Both of them took a shaky breath, staring at each other. Sen leaned up and kissed him, and he bent down to meet her. They pressed their chests flush together, breathing each other’s breath and savoring the feeling. Everything earlier was just sitting next to a fire compared to this. This was the fire itself, a roaring furnace, burning hot and cauterizing any wounds.

“Are… Are you okay?” Haise panted between kisses. He peppered a few across her jaw and left some new marks on her neck.

Sen sighed. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m okay…” She brought him up from her neck and kissed him fiercely. “Just—” she swirled her tongue around his— “new feeling… Pressure… But good.”

“I’ll… I’ll go slow…” Even as he said it, the tightness was enough to make him consider otherwise.

“N-No… No…” She wrapped her legs around his waist, guiding him deeper.

He nodded. “Okay.”

He still started slow, acclimating to her walls clenching around him, then picked up his pace before she could protest. The pressure now surrounded him, and he was free to really move.

Each slap of his hips against her came with an overwhelming jolt of pleasure. It was different from before. Sen was different, so wonderfully different. She wanted him. He wanted her. They were wanted. They were not toys, but people, fleshy and emotional and real.

She hung onto him for dear life, one arm around his neck while the other clutched his back. Whenever her mouth wasn’t kissing or sucking his neck or swearing, it was praising him and saying his name. His chosen name.

“Haise—”

His thrusts became more erratic.

“Haise…!”

His mind went blank.

“Haise…”

#blank canvas #writing

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